#or one MASSIVE attack before taking her last breath

[longing-for-the-past-times]

The four times you fell asleep on Ghost and the one time Ghost fell asleep on you - one.

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

word count: 2,542

synopsis: Throughout your time as a Task Force 141 operator, you fell asleep on your Lieutenant in random circumstances. What happens when he is the one to fall asleep on you?

notes: hope you enjoy this, it was initially meant to be max 500 words but I got carried away reader's callsign is Bambi (she/her)

find it on ao3 part one part two part three part four part five

masterlist

one.

In hindsight, the day shouldn't have been so draining; it had been an average day spent on base, involving physical training, shooting, and paperwork. You had endured much worse during missions where you could barely get some shut-eye between watches, but that was not the case.

The problem, the literal root of your heartaches was a cat, your sister's cat. You had been more than happy to take care of it when she so kindly asked under the pretence of having to spend a few nights out of town. You had been even happier when you went shopping for cat supplies with her - perhaps excited at the thought of having a furry cuddling partner. And you intentionally kept it a secret from your teammates, scared that they would drop by uninvited to help you take care of it when all you wanted was the creature's undivided attention.

The previous day, the first day she'd spent under your care was perfect: she, for the cat was a female, spent hours cuddled up on the couch, sleeping like there was no tomorrow. But when the night came, the little beast came to life. Scratch that, beast was an understatement - it was the spawn of Satan that had been racing through your bedroom, jumping on the windows, and left hanging on the curtains. The demon that kept butting his head against your door, and that launched violent attacks against your blanket until your alarm rang.

So that was why the plain day at the base was more draining than it should have been. You went on with training, the shooting session was average, and the paperwork had you dozing on your desk. Letting out a small sigh, you forced your eyes to stay open as you scanned the last mission’s report for any grammatical mistakes- which proved to be a tedious task, especially because you’d eaten not too long ago and your eyes became heavier each breath.

At the sound of another yawn, Ghost lifted his head from his own paperwork, glancing in your direction. He noticed with a frown your exhausted face and the way you blearily rubbed your eyes in an attempt to make the sleep go away. What was that kept you up last night? Or should he ask- who? He quickly shook his head at the thought, discarding it like a crumpled piece of paper thrown in the bin. He’d known you long enough to notice your mood shifts and he would know, he had to know, if you started seeing someone. Not that he had something against it - he wouldn’t be the one to pry into your personal life like that. After all, it was Johnny’s job who, in turn, would share the information with him.

But that did not mean he could not try to ensure you felt good enough in his presence - the team’s presence - to not feel the need of finding another someone. After all, it would only get you distracted and unprepared for the missions to come.

His reasoning was sound in his head, and when he saw you had given up, propping your head against a stack of papers while mindlessly glaring at your extended hand, he got up from his desk. He made sure the screeching of the chair was loud enough to alert you something was going on, and he suppressed a grimace under his mask when he saw you slowly turn to face him, eyes glossy with sleep. At that moment, glancing at you, he thought you were the perfect embodiment of the expression: no thoughts, head empty, and, as much as it amused him, he knew he had at least to get you out of the office.

"Come on, let's go."

Scrunching your eyes before blinking, you looked up at his massive figure that was currently towering above your desk. If you'd been more alert, you would have noticed a small sparkle in his eyes, but your efforts were put into battling off the waves of sleep that just kept coming. Your mind could not form a coherent thought: what was the time, did the lieutenant finish his paperwork already, where did he want to go-

The internal questions continued and you ended up yawning loudly again, closing your eyes for a couple of minutes. You just needed to rest them for a while and then you'd be fresh, prime, and proper to finish your day on base. Yet your brief rest was interrupted when you heard, or rather, felt, a hot breath across your face. As you opened your eyes, you realized Ghost had crouched down in front of your desk, his masked face being centimetres apart from yours. His eyes still had that tiny sparkle you noticed this time, and involuntarily you began staring at his amber orbs and blonde eyelashes. Countless times you studied his eyes fervently, trying to get a glimpse of the man behind the mask - so much that you began to be aware of every crease and crinkle that would form around them, depending on his mood. At the time being, there seemed to be no such lines, or perhaps you were too tired to actually notice them-

"You can finish this report tomorrow, Sergeant. Let's go!"

He gently nudged you with his arm, waiting for any reaction. When he didn't receive one, he rolled his eyes and groaned, he actually groaned, which made you perk your ears in disbelief:

"I'm up, I'm up!", you shot up and out of the chair, too surprised by his loud reaction. But you couldn't see his face anymore as he was already heading towards the door, back turned to you, left hand silently gesturing you to follow.

The walk to the lounging area was silent, with Simon walking in front and you trailing dutifully behind him. The silence was not uncomfortable though, which was not unusual: he was one of the very few people with whom you could sit in a room for hours and don't feel the need to fill the space with words. There was no explanation for it; it all came naturally and you were smart enough not to question it, knowing that the lieutenant could be difficult with people when he wanted to.

"Look who decided to show up! Ghost, Bambi - how kind of you to join us!"

You shook your head at Soap’s loud greeting, trying your best to hide your smile as you plopped down on the sofa, next to Ghost. Captain Price was already seated in his designated armchair, leafing through what seemed to be a handbook, while Gaz was lounging on the other sofa, next to Soap. As usual, other members of the task force would come and go, bidding silent greetings, and at that moment, the comfort and familiarity of the atmosphere made you sigh softly as you propped your head on your hand while leaning against the armrest.

"Sleepless night, Y/N?"

Price did not look up from his book as he asked the question, but you knew he must have been watching you throughout the day, taking note of the sleepy state you'd often found yourself in. You also knew that he would have stepped in the moment he considered you pushed yourself too far, but for the time being, you were just satisfied that you managed to get through the day.

"Who's keeping you up at night, Bambi?", Soap quickly chimed in, a signature smirk plastered on his face. A smirk that widened even more when he noticed Ghost rolling his eyes, next to you. "Is there someone we should know about?"

"You're shameless, Johnny", you spat back at him, straightening yourself in an attempt to seem more collected. "...and even if there was someone, you think I'd throw them to the wolves?"

Gaz chuckled loudly at the remark, while Price was trying to hide his grin behind the pages. At that moment, Simon was glad the balaclava was hiding his features - the smirk he was sporting could rival Soap's.

"My sister left town for a couple of days", you eventually resumed, running a hand through your hair, "and asked me to take care of her cat-"

As expected, protests and offended remarks could be heard from both Soap and Gaz, the men demanding why they were not told of this earlier. They could have helped-

"The only help I'd get from you would consist of you two laying to sleep with her on the couch. But here's the catch, the beast only sleeps in the daytime - but when the night comes, she transforms into this dark demon which runs around the house and attacks my feet when I try to sleep!"

"Never had a cat before, Y/N? When you were a kid?"

You shook your head at Price's question, frowning when you notice his sympathetic expression:

"You need to keep them busy throughout the day, and then leave enough food for them at night. As a last resort, locking them in the bathroom is a good solution, but you need to first remove everything from the shelves."

"Or we could come in and babysit the baby!", Gaz kept pushing, an innocent smile gracing his features. "Sure, you had a rough night, but how hard can it possibly be, to take care of a creature whose routine mainly consists of eating and sleeping?"

"Well, it's only three more days. I'll manage somehow..."

As the conversation shifted to another topic you were too tired to understand fully, you laid your head against the wall, letting your body sink into the couch. There it was again, that soft hum that lulled you to sleep- not that you would actually fall asleep in the lounging area. No, you would just rest your eyes for a couple of minutes, before heading towards your car and riding back home to the little creature that must have been expecting you.

***

At first, Ghost did not seem to notice the shift of weight on his right arm. He was too busy scrolling on his phone, searching for articles about cats and their nocturnal habits. It wasn't until the room was too quiet for his liking that he looked up from his phone, his eyes meeting Soap's as his teammate was silently pointing to his right - in your direction.

He slowly turned his head towards you, his eyes widening almost comically behind his mask. You were the dead weight on his shoulder, soundly asleep, your left cheek squished against his arm. Of all the days, it was that specific day that he opted for a plain black t-shirt after training, and he was definitely overthinking his choice. Your skin felt soft and warm against his, enough to short-wire all the working circuits in his brain, prompting him to freeze and stare at you. The complete implications of this gesture would hit him later, when he would be lying in bed, unable to sleep, but for the time being, he could solely focus on the facts at hand: you were there, next to him, leaning against him, sleeping peacefully.

And he only wanted to keep an eye on you and kill anyone who had the slightest intention of waking you up.

"Where's that camera when you need it!", Soap quietly grumbled as he got up and started fumbling on one of the shelves, ignoring the daggers Ghost was shooting at him through his eyes.

"Top shelf, Soap - you put it there the last time you used it!", Price whispered with a sigh of mild frustration.

"Guys, be quiet, let the girl get some rest!", Gaz hissed as well before Soap joined him back on the couch, a dusty Polaroid camera in his hands:

"Alright, this one's for the books! Come on, give us a big smile, L.T.!"

He might have been unable to move, but his gaze spoke volumes- a true death glare though and through, quickly captured by Soap through the lenses and printed on the small Polaroid photo sheet. Gaz leaned over Soap's shoulder to see the result and even Price scooted his armchair a bit closer, a small grin dancing his lips. The picture was proudly placed on the wooden panel, next to one depicting the Captain sleeping just as soundly in the very same armchair he was currently sitting in. And in the meantime, Ghost could only feign indifference, letting his signature eye roll showcase his opinion about the situation.

He could not explain, could not even place a finger on or identify the warm and comforting sensation he was feeling in his chest. He was so used to the cold and dull feeling that had taken residence in there- yet there it was, a glimmer of hope, a ray of sun on a cold autumn day.

You felt safe in his presence, safe enough to put yourself in a vulnerable position in his proximity.

And he would do anything to keep things that way.

***

Bonus scene:

Letting out a small whimper, you stretched your limbs while keeping your eyes closed. You could not figure out how you got home or why your pillow was sporting a distinct smell of cigarette smoke, sweat and cologne, but your semi-conscious mind was too busy keeping you asleep that you did not seem to care.

Wait...

That scent was familiar. You were in its presence on an almost daily basis that you could tell it in your sleep. Well, not literally, considering that your mind was still trying to piece it out- why was your pillow smelling like Ghost?

You jerked yourself awake with a start, your groggy mind taking a couple of moments to process the fact that you were actually not in your bed, but in the lounging room at the base. And your pillow was not really your pillow, but actually, Ghost's shoulder and your cheek was fully squished against it.

"Look who's up, Sleeping Beauty herself..."

From your current position, his voice felt like a deep rumble, vibrating through your body and resonating in your bones in an unsettling manner. With a herculean effort, you managed to prop yourself against the other side of the couch, blearily blinking the sleep from your eyes. A faint blush spread across your cheeks, warmth radiating through your face as embarrassment tinged your features. It took all you had not to cover your face in your hands.

"I’m so sorry, L.T. - I really didn’t mean to-" "It’s alright, Bambi. No harm done."

The lack of your weight against him made him feel empty in a way he struggled to define. He tried to brush it away by rising from the couch and making a show of rolling his shoulder in front of you, calmly watching your embarrassed figure through his thick eyelashes. Your cheeks were already sporting an uncharacteristic rosy hue and your renowned doe eyes were widened, a glimmer of sheepishness and self-consciousness reflecting in them. He would never admit it to anyone, but he secretly adored the fact that he was one of the few people who could coax such a reaction from you.

"Although next time you might want to do it in a room without Soap. It’s likely that the entire base will learn of it by tomorrow."

A/N: wrote this on a whim, not proofread so it may contain grammatical errors (and more) updates won't be regular as I'm a college student with a full-time job

Hope you enjoyed it :)

[nemo-writes]

⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞 ; 𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

↣ pack!tf141 x witch!reader

↣ chapter summary; the fight pushes strength and resolve to their breaking point. in the aftermath, a steady embrace provides comfort, offering a moment of stability to your worn and exhausted spirit.

⚠️ warnings; graphic depictions of violence and blood, character death

★ previous ; next

☆ story masterlist

König knelt in the shadows of the opposite building, his towering frame concealed behind a crumbling wall. Beside him, Sybil sat silently, her eyes scanning the darkness with an eerie calm.

The plan was simple: wait for your signal. But König’s nerves simmered beneath the surface. His fingers drummed against the serrated dagger at his side, his rifle slung securely across his back. He hated waiting—he always had. It left too much room for doubt, too much time for the unknown to creep in.

Sybil let out a soft, low whine, breaking the silence. König reached out, his massive hand brushing over her sleek fur. “Geduld, Mädchen,” he murmured, his voice a rumble in the stillness. Patience, girl.

But the stillness didn’t last.  

From the shadows, they came. 

The vampires moved with deadly grace, their forms nearly blending into the darkness as they closed in on their position. König’s rifle came up instantly, the sharp crack of his shots echoing in the alley. He managed to take down one, the creature crumpling with a snarl, but the others were too fast, too many.  

Sybil launched herself into the fray, her powerful jaws snapping down on one of the attackers that came from behind them. The vampire screeched, twisting in her grip, but she held firm, her lithe body moving like a ghost through the chaos.  

König cursed under his breath, drawing his serrated dagger as another vampire lunged at him. The blade caught its mark, sinking into pale flesh, but it wasn’t enough. The vampire barely flinched, its snarling face inches from his as it shoved him back.  

“Verdammte Blutsauger,” König growled, the frustration boiling over. Damn bloodsuckers.

Another attacker came at him from the side, and he felt the sharp sting of claws raking across his arm. It was too much. Too many.  

With a deep, guttural snarl, König let the humanity slip away. His form twisted, his already-massive frame growing even larger, more monstrous. Horns curled upward from his head, his hands morphing into deadly claws. His eyes burned with a hellish glow as he roared, the sound shaking the very air around them.  

The vampires hesitated for a fraction of a second—a fatal mistake. König lunged, his claws tearing through them like paper. Sybil moved in tandem with him, their coordination seamless, but even with his unleashed power, the onslaught was unrelenting.  

Then, a sudden crack shattered the night—a sniper’s bullet bursting through the window of the building across the way. The vampire lunging toward Sybil collapsed mid-leap, its head snapping back as blood sprayed into the air.  

König turned sharply, his glowing eyes scanning for the source. From a rooftop nearby, the faint glint of a scope caught his attention. Another shot rang out, and another vampire fell.  

Before König could process further, Gaz appeared from the darkness, his presence a sharp contrast to the chaos. His hands moved fluidly, and with a murmured incantation, a ripple of energy erupted from him, ensnaring one of the vampires in glowing chains. The creature screeched as the magic bound it, leaving it vulnerable for König to finish off with a swipe of his claws.  

Gaz approached calmly, though his eyes flicked over the battlefield with sharp precision. “You’re welcome,” he said with a faint smirk, crouching beside Sybil.  

Sybil whined softly, her massive frame leaning into Gaz’s touch as he smoothed down her fur and snout. “Miss me, girl?” he murmured, his voice softer now. Sybil nuzzled into him, her eyes half-closing as though savoring the familiarity.  

König, still in his monstrous form, huffed and straightened, his claws curling into fists. His horns gleamed faintly in the dim light as he regarded Gaz. “Who was that?” he rumbled, his voice deeper and more guttural in this form.  

Gaz shook his head, still focused on Sybil. “That was Price. He’s on a nearby rooftop, covering us.” He straightened, his gaze meeting König’s. “The other two—Ghost and Soap—are already inside the club. They’re helping her.”  

At that, König’s chest rumbled with a low growl, his glowing eyes narrowing toward the club.  

“Relax,” Gaz said, his tone even. “She’s got backup. And now, so do you.”  

Sybil let out a quiet huff, her nose nudging at Gaz’s hand again. He chuckled softly, his fingers continuing to smooth her fur as König finally began to shift back, his form shrinking and human features returning.  

König’s claws flexed as he shifted back to his human form, his towering frame still radiating tension. His breaths came in deep, controlled bursts, though his eyes, dark and sharp now, bore into Gaz with restrained frustration.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” König said, his voice low and cutting. “She was clear. We were clear.”

Gaz straightened, meeting König’s gaze without flinching. His hands paused briefly in smoothing down Sybil’s fur, but his expression remained calm. “I know,” he said simply, his tone steady but unapologetic.

König let out a growl, his shoulders stiffening as his frustration spilled over. “Then why?” he demanded, his voice rising slightly. “This was not your fight. You had no reason to—”

Gaz cut him off, his voice firm but still measured. “We had every reason.”

Sybil shifted, her dark eyes flicking between the two men, her large frame still pressed against Gaz’s side as if sensing the rising tension.

Gaz stood fully now, his tone softening but his resolve unshaken. “I know she didn’t want us involved. I know what she said. But this isn’t just about her.” He glanced briefly at Sybil, his fingers brushing her fur before continuing. “We’ve got a bone to pick with Makarov, too. What he’s done—to her, to Leah, to all of us—it’s personal.”

König’s jaw clenched, his fists curling tightly at his sides. “This was not the plan,” he said through gritted teeth, his accent thickening with his frustration.

“No, it wasn’t,” Gaz admitted, his gaze steady. “But plans change. You’re not the only ones who have something to settle with him.”

König’s glare didn’t waver, but Sybil let out a low whine, her nose nudging his hand. He glanced down at her, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

“We’re not here to step on toes,” he said, his voice quieter now. “But we’re not sitting this one out, either. Price and I are here to make sure this ends—tonight.”

König’s silence stretched for a moment, his dark eyes flicking back toward the club across the street Finally, he exhaled heavily, his hands falling to his sides. “Fine,” he muttered, though the edge in his tone remained. “But if this goes wrong…”

“It won’t,” Gaz interrupted, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “She’s got Ghost and Soap inside, doesn’t she? Between them and us, we’ve got this covered.”

König didn’t respond immediately, his gaze still locked on the glowing red lights of the club. Finally, he gave a short, reluctant nod, his focus returning to the task at hand.

“Good,” Gaz said, rising to his feet and giving Sybil one last affectionate stroke. “Because Makarov has no idea what’s coming for him.”

. . .

You dry-heaved over Makarov's body, your breath ragged as you clutched your knees for support. He was dead—just like that. The so-called great mastermind, the architect of so much pain and suffering, reduced to a lifeless heap on the bloodstained floor. It felt surreal.

And yet, as you stared at him, another thought surfaced, unbidden but undeniable. For someone like him—someone grandiose, who believed himself untouchable, a perfect being, a mastermind—this was the perfect death. No spectacle, no grand finale. Just cold, unceremonious, and messy.

It was almost poetic, in a way. The man who thrived on control, who reveled in the suffering of others, left sprawled and broken in his own chaos.

The thought steadied you for a moment, but the adrenaline still coursing through your veins didn’t let you linger. You had to move.

Coming to your senses, your eyes darted around the room, finally landing on your bag slumped against the sofa. You staggered toward it, every step a painful effort, and knelt beside it, hands fumbling through its contents.

The first thing you grabbed was a small glass tube—a bottle of perfume, deceptively elegant. Your fingers scrambled to uncork it, nearly dropping it in your haste. As soon as the stopper was free, you tilted the potion back, swallowing the contents in one swift gulp.

It burned going down, but you forced it back, grimacing against the taste. The potion, made from the herbs your mother had collected for you, was designed to neutralize whatever cursed concoction the succubus had fed you earlier.

The second item you grabbed was your lipstick. Clutching it tightly, you pushed yourself to your feet and stumbled toward the door, your pulse pounding in your ears.

As you moved, the realization of the eerie silence hit you. The room was void of sound, as though the air itself had been sucked away. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end as the oppressive scent of death slammed into you, sharp and cloying. Gagging, you raised a trembling hand to cover your nose and mouth.

The darkness beyond the door was different—inky and impenetrable, an abyss that even the pulsing red strobe lights from the party downstairs couldn’t pierce. The untouched revelry below felt almost mocking, its carefree energy a world away from the oppressive stillness enveloping you.

A deep, guttural sound echoed down the hall—a savage, wet tearing that sent a chill racing down your spine. It wasn’t human. You turned instinctively toward the noise, your pulse spiking as you strained to make sense of the chaos unfolding just beyond the room.

You slammed the door shut on instinct, twisting the lock with trembling hands, but when you turned back, you froze.

Simon was standing there. But no, this was Ghost.

He loomed over Makarov’s lifeless body, his broad frame somehow absorbing all the dim light in the room. Shadows clung to him like a second skin, his presence dominating the space with an almost supernatural weight. One boot tilted Makarov’s head to the side, as if inspecting the corpse.

Your breath hitched as his dark gaze turned to you, cutting through the distance like a blade. You couldn’t move.

Slowly, methodically, he began walking toward you. Each step deliberate, heavy, and unrelenting. Your instincts screamed at you to run, but your body betrayed you, backing you into the locked door instead. The cold press of the door against your back did little to steady your trembling frame.

When he finally reached you, he loomed over you, his shadow swallowing you whole. You flinched, your mind flashing back to the last time you’d seen him like this—feral, unrelenting, dangerous.

Ghost’s hand rose slowly, his gloved fingers brushing against your cheek. The unexpected gentleness of the touch made your breath hitch, but the sting of the deep gash there brought you back to the present. His thumb lingered, tracing the edges of the wound as his brow furrowed beneath his mask.

“Bastard,” he muttered, his voice low and rasping with venom. His eyes flicked briefly to Makarov’s body, his contempt cutting through the stillness. “Would’ve made ‘im suffer more. Deserved worse, the prick.”

But then his gaze shifted back to you, softening through his mask as it returned to you. He reached for your hands, gently wrapping his fingers around yours. You tried to pull away instinctively, but his grip held firm, steadying your trembling fingers.

Your nails, cracked and caked with blood, made him stop for a moment, his gloved thumb brushing carefully over your stained fingertips.

“Look at this,” he muttered, tugging at the hem of his shirt with one hand. “Bloody hell, love. Shouldn’t’ve come to this. Shouldn’t’ve been you.”

His accent thickened with every word, the edges of his voice rough with anger—not at you, but at everything that had brought you here. He wiped at your hands with his shirt, his movements careful despite the frustration that seeped into his voice.

“You deserve better than this,” he said, his tone growing heavier, harsher. “Should’ve been me doin’ the dirty work, not you. You ain’t built for this—no one should be.”

The blood smeared onto his shirt as he kept at it, his brows furrowed, his breath heavy. “I should’ve been here,” he snapped, the frustration pouring out now. “Should’ve stopped this whole bloody mess ‘fore it got this far. That’s on me. All of it’s on me.”

His gaze darted back to your face, his thumb pausing against your palm as his chest rose and fell with barely restrained emotion. “I let you down,” he said, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper, his accent thick enough to blur the words together. “I let all of us down. Won’t bloody happen again, swear it.”

His words cracked something in you, the weight of everything—Makarov, the blood, the pain—finally catching up. Your walls crumbled, and before you could stop yourself, a sob broke free. You slumped forward, clutching onto Ghost as your body trembled with the force of your emotions.

“Simon…!” you choked out, his name a whisper torn from your lips as you buried your face into his chest.

Ghost froze for half a heartbeat before his arms wrapped around you, strong and sure. He pulled you against him, his warmth engulfing you like it had in the past. His broad frame felt unyielding, a solid barrier against the chaos of the world.

“It’s alright,” he murmured, his voice softer now, though his accent still roughened his words. His gloved hand slid to the back of your head, cradling you gently as his other arm held you firmly around your waist. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

You clung to him, your fists gripping the fabric of his shirt as if letting go would shatter you completely. The tears came harder, each one pulling at the tension you’d carried for so long.

Ghost didn’t rush you. He stayed there, immovable, as your sobs wracked your body. His hand moved in slow, comforting strokes down your back, his fingers brushing through your hair with a tenderness that made you cry harder.

“It’s alright, love,” he murmured again, his words vibrating through his chest. “Get it all out. You ain’t gotta carry it alone anymore.”

Eventually, your sobs began to quiet, your breathing evening out as the overwhelming wave of emotion receded. Your grip on him loosened slightly, though his arms didn’t falter, still holding you close.

When you finally pulled back, your make-up was ruined and cacked on Ghost's shoulder, but there was a lightness in your chest you hadn’t felt in ages. He cupped your face briefly, his thumb brushing a stray tear from your cheek before letting his hand fall.

He stayed there for a moment, his head dipping slightly as if gathering himself. When he finally looked back up, his hand still holding yours gently, the intensity in his eyes was almost unbearable.

“You close your pretty eyes now,” he murmured, his tone softening despite the weight of his words. “Let me finish this. I owe you that much.”

. . .

The room was quiet save for the low hum of tension that hung in the air. König stood by the window, his imposing frame silhouetted against the faint glow of the city lights outside. Sybil lay at his feet, her ears twitching occasionally as she listened intently to every sound. Nearby, Gaz paced restlessly, his hand running through his hair as he cast glances toward the sealed door at the far end of the room.

Then it happened.

The door began to glow faintly, the intricate lines of an array appearing as if etched by an invisible hand. The glow pulsed softly, growing brighter with each passing second.

Gaz stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing at the sight. “That’s my cue,” he said, his voice quiet but steady. He turned to Sybil, crouching down to give her one last affectionate scratch behind the ears.

“Be good, girl,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her large snout. Sybil leaned into his touch, her eyes half-closing, as though savoring the familiarity.

Straightening, Gaz gave König a nod. “She’ll need you,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

König inclined his head, his sharp gaze fixed on the glowing door. “Go,” he rumbled.

By the time the array was complete, Gaz was gone back into the shadows.

You stepped through the threshold, the glow of the array fading behind you as you crossed into the room. The lipstick you had used to draw the array was clutched tightly in one hand, its cap missing, the vibrant pink smeared across your trembling fingers. In your other hand, you held a bag—a heavy, bloodied bag. Crimson dripped steadily from its base, leaving dark splatters on the floor as you moved.

Your face was streaked with tears, your eyes red and swollen, and your entire body trembled with exhaustion and pain. You were hurt, bone tired, and completely spent, but you said nothing.

Ghost was nowhere to be seen.

Before you could take another step, König was there. His massive arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest with a gentleness that belied his size. You sagged against him, the weight of everything crashing down as his solid presence engulfed you.

“It’s over,” König murmured, his voice low and steady. His hand rested protectively on the back of your head, holding you close.

Sybil moved to your side, her nose nudging at your hip in silent comfort. Her warmth and König’s embrace were grounding, a fragile lifeline in the chaos that unravelled.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to let go, closing your eyes as König held you firmly in place.

Behind you, the glowing door disappeared, sealing shut as though it had never been.

banner credit

[sguidwards-bestfriend]

So apparently pitchpearl is a thing, I've been on tumblr for a while and if you know any history then you understand why selfcest doesn't surprise me in the slightest

Anyway...

dpxdc Misunderstanding that becomes reality fic: 1.5k

part 1

Warning: I plan on a very melancholic ending, its a good ending but also kinda sad

...

When Danny moved to Gotham, he really had thought he wouldn't continue his hero work in this dimension.

But there was a little girl in the street that almost got hurt during a rogue attack.

But some kind of gas went off at the cafe he worked at and it's not like he really needs to breath and there were so many people.

But his University, Gotham U, was in a lock down from a random winter storm that definitely wasn't natural.

So he did what he could when he saw it and kept off of the news when he was doing class work, letting the other "vigilantes" pick up where he couldn't.

However, after a few more months of class, work, and being a vigilante (the news station that first showed him used the correct name!!), he was right back where he had been in Amity before he'd managed to close the portal.

Exhausted and failing at everything other than hero work.

The year after he had graduated high school he stayed in Amity and was able to make amends with the ghosts, being the crown prince definitely helped. He thought the ghost attacks stopping would have lessened his pa- Jack and Maddie trying to catch one. In reality they only became more and more frantic to catch the last ghost, "Mini Phantom".

Revealing he had a daughter, that that daughter was half ghost, hadn't gone well in the slightest.

The one shot Maddie managed to hit had almost destabilized her. He had grabbed her and ran into the portal. He wasn't sure how he'd done it, but in a fit of blinding rage he had destroyed both sides of the doorway to the Ghost Zone.

Frost bite had managed to get her to retract into her core. She'd need some time before she'd have a physical form again, and she'd need Danny to keep her stable for some time, but she would make it. She'd be fine in the end.

It felt weird to have two cores in his chest, but other than needing to take ecto shots it wasn't a huge change.

The last time he'd been to frostbite Ellie's core had some sort of shake to it. It could have been nothing, but a halfa was rare enough. A halfa making a never-born hadn't even been thought of. Add on, that that never-born could possibly be born a halfa was... concerning.

So here he was, in an entirely new dimension, nervously chewing on the end of his stylus, waiting to hear back from Frostbite. His study sessions lately kept being interrupted by thoughts of her. If she really was okay.

Then there was an earth shattering BOOM, that shook his entire building.

As he floated upwards and through the wall he caught a glimpse of something he had never seen before in his afterlife.

A daemon. An actual daemon with red skin and horns and a flaming tail crawling out of the ruble that used to be his front door.

Danny could sense immediately that the being wasn't from the ghost zone, but it held just as much power as one of the stronger ghost.

He transformed and landed in front of the being, "Hey! That was my front door! What gives, Rudolf?"

The daemon shook the dust off his head and looked at Phantom, then at his chest, and back at him. "I do not fight those that carry child."

"Oh... uh." He was not expecting that. "Are you okay?"

It was the daemons turn to look perplexed. "I am fighting a hellblazer, he owes me something. Refuses to pay."

"That's annoying." He looked around to see some guy in a trench coat at the end of the street. The yet to settle dust cloud making it hard to figure out any other features. "I can help if you-"

At that a massive blast of magic hit him and the daemon, sending them careening farther down the street.

Danny's vision went double and he thought he was going to throw up. All he could focus on at first was the pain as he tried to stand on wobbly legs, then it was the emptiness in his chest.

Ellie.

He closed his eyes and dropped back to the floor. He focused on her core. He found it quickly, checking it over, turning it every which way incessantly until he heard someone groan in front of him.

When he opened his eyes he was looking at two much smaller daemons, one a bright red, the other a darker wine red, sitting in a massive indent in the road. One he very luckily was on the very outskirts of.

The two immediately started to bicker, swatting at each other, but not actually fighting.

He heard footsteps on the wreckage behind him, some magic words were said and the daemons' were hand cuffed and poofed out of sight.

"Hey kid, you okay?" Trench coat asked him, not bothering to give him his hand.

"No thanks to you, you ass."

"I just saved your life." He said with a blank expression.

"The daemon wouldn't have done anything to me. Unlike you, they have a moral code."

Trench coat huffed, that seemed to ruffle his feathers. "And what would those morals be exactly?"

"They pay their debts, for one. And two, they don't magically attack people carrying children." Danny stood up and wavered. Trench coat grabbed his arm to steady him.

He stared at Danny for a few more seconds, "You're not human." It wasn't a question. He sucked in a breath, "You're not fully human."

"Ding, ding, ding." Danny tried to shake of the hellblazer's grip. "Let go of me."

"I know where to get medical attention for non humans. You need to be looked over." He said, starting the motion to make a portal.

"Nuh, uh. No. I'm fine." Danny said, patting the hand still wrapped around his arm. Trenchcoat let go and shoved him lightly, Danny felt the world twist around him as the pavement came up to meet his face.

Before he hit the ground he stopped in mid air, not by his own volition, and was gently propped back up.

"That blast spell is designed to not affect humans. You shouldn't have felt more than a breeze." Trenchcoat went back to opening up a portal, it glowed an eerie red. "Come on, well check the little one too."

Danny let himself get pulled through the red portal, it quickly closed behind them.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

His head was pounding.

"wha/t- morals- exactly?"

Talking.

"debts- two- atta/ckp/eo-ple- children."

Two voices. Two people.

"not human."

He feels empty.

"Letg/oof me."

He's hurt. His other half is hurt.

"You need to be looked over."

He opened his eyes, a man was holding his other half. His other half and his daughter.

"Nuh, uh. No. I'm fine." His other half swatted at the man.

The man pushed his other half to the ground.

He tried to reach out but his hand was barely a shimmering outline.

His other half didn't hit the ground.

There was ringing in his ears. The man would pay.

"Come on,- the little one too."

The man pulled his other half through a portal.

A sickly looking portal. A bloody color.

He floated up. Sped to the closing portal.

It closed too fast.

He wasn't fast enough.

...

It took Phantom 20 minutes to get his thoughts in order and another 10 before the ringing in his ears stopped.

He had been split in two before, but the ghost "dream catcher" the ecto-scientists made years ago had split his ghost half and his human half entirely. This was different.

He still felt a bit of his humanness. Transforming would suck though, he felt too low on ecto to do that.

His other half was in his human form when he looked. He still had Ellie nestled up against his core. But his core looked off. Although the silhouette was of a full sphere, he couldn't help shaking the thought that he saw some parts missing.

When Danny had been split before only his ghost had kept the core, it was what nearly killed them both. What made them promise to never split again.

Maybe if they both had bits of a core they'd be fine until they could reunite.

He tried to focus on his core but it made his head pound.

He'd have to hope his other half could manage as he tried to organize a rescue mission.

Although he'd managed to get a message from the Ghost Zone to Sam and Tucker, he wouldn't be able to get one dirrectly to their dimension.

He knew even trying to make a portal with his ecto as low as it was wasn't a good idea. And would be a waste of the ecto shots he had just chugged.

There was really only one hope of help he had left, one he really didn't want to ask.

A new friend he had made at the cafe.

Tim Drake-Wayne, son of Brucie Wayne. The very same Brucie Wayne that was definitely funding Batman's weird night life.

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

Wow this got away from me, honestly was planning on like 500 words. I want to continue this, but if anyone wants to pick it up and play around please feel free to add stuff in the reblogs! I adore reading peoples additions to posts

(As always please please please help me writing tags i never knwo what to do with them, the lack of structure here compared to ao3 confuses me)

[atlabeth]

greener grass | luke castellan

i recommend reading bleedin me dry before this as this is the au to that!

summary: what if you left with luke that day in the woods?

a/n: would just like to give a HUGE thank you for the massive amount of support on my luke fic!! and another huge thank you to all you angst demons because why do you want more of it. i mean i get it but why. anyways here’s a different path of actually accepting luke’s offer like so many of you said you would instantly fold lmao i hope you enjoy

wc: 3.2k

warning(s): fem!daughter of demeter reader. luke is his own warning. kind of unhealthy relationship, weird vibes all around

The stars were brighter than ever tonight. 

It was one of the first things that stuck out to you when you got to camp, and it was one of the first things that you noticed when you first got on the road with Luke. 

You’d always loved the stars. They were a rare sight coming from the city, such a sign of nature and purity that it honestly shouldn’t have been a surprise when you were claimed. You still remembered the shock that went through you when you first saw what a night sky free of pollution could be, and you still remembered the first time you risked your life with the harpies just to spend the night star-gazing. 

And you could never forget the first time you dragged Luke along with you, his wry protests falling on deaf ears though he grinned the entire way down to the beach, his hand laced in yours.  

Gods. 

Luke. 

Even the thought of him these days was enough to make your heart clench, a slight shiver run down your spine, and you weren’t fully sure as to why. 

You loved him. You ran away with him. Every path that led you here, you willingly chose to walk down. 

But you still questioned every second of every godsdamned day if they were the right decisions. Especially now, as you sat alone in front of the fire, carefully stoking it with one of the few dry sticks you’d been able to find after taking shelter—in your own haphazard tent made of vines and tree trunks and any other bits of nature you’d managed to sprout from the ground with your powers—to wait out a rainstorm. 

You decided to spend the night, deciding that traveling through the darkness was too risky after the last monster attack, but the minutes couldn’t have been creeping by slower. If being in nature didn’t quite literally fuel you, you knew you would be far more miserable than you already were.

You loved Luke with all your heart, and if he was willing to potentially throw off his entire plan just so he could bring you with him, then he had to love you the same. You owed him this, at least, to not abandon him. 

You— you didn’t want to serve Kronos, but you didn’t want to serve the gods, either. Your mother abandoned you before you were old enough to know what the word meant, leaving you on your father’s doorstep swaddled in blankets and with a note that he still had to this day. 

Demeter left your father to raise you on his own, left you to live the half-life of a half-blood, and hardly paid attention to you since. She didn’t help you when you were on the road to camp with your satyr, wondering if every bump in the night would be your end, and she let you feel worthless for an entire year before she finally decided you were deserving of her claim.

Or maybe she just finally remembered you existed. 

You understood Luke’s anger—you felt it yourself more than you liked to admit—but the path he was on was a dangerous one. You doubted you could take him off of it, but you could keep him safe, and you could prevent more damage. That was all you cared about at this point. 

How long you could walk this line was an entirely different question. 

You sensed him before you heard him even lost in your thoughts, but the snapping of twigs still made your breath catch for a moment. You kept your gaze on the fire as you spoke. 

“Anything?” 

“These woods are surprisingly bare for the time of year,” Luke said as he set his backpack on the ground, kneeling down to rifle through it. “I feel like Artemis is punishing me.” 

“Well, she doesn’t exactly have a reason to help you,” you said wryly. You gestured with your head towards the miniature orchard you’d been making at each one of your camps—one pro of your parentage was that you—hopefully—wouldn’t ever starve on the road. You’d been growing plants since you realized you could, so it was practically second nature at this point. “Fruit’s on the menu, if you’re interested.” 

Luke chuckled as he walked over, and as he plucked a perfectly ripe strawberry, he glanced at you. “Feeling nostalgic?” 

You shrugged. You wondered which of your siblings would be in charge of the strawberries with you gone. You hoped Mr. D wouldn’t give it to one of his kids. “Do you blame me?” 

“Not at all.” He popped it into his mouth then took an apple from the smallest tree you’d been able to grow. “It was home for us both, for a while.” 

You bit your lip. It still was your home—it had been for the past four years. You wanted to go back eventually, but you felt like you had sealed your coffin by going with Luke. Would they ever welcome you back, knowing you willingly followed him into the darkness?

“How long do you think we’ll be on the road?” you asked, finally looking over at him as he sat down across from you. “Not that I don’t enjoy being with you, but… it’s not exactly the safest.”

“At least another week or two,” Luke said. You tried your hardest to keep your expression even as he settled the full force of his gaze on you—you couldn’t deal with the scrutiny. “I need to make sure they’ve lost our trail. The last thing we need is a questing group on our asses.”

You huffed a laugh. “You think they’ll actually send anyone after us?”

Luke shrugged. “If all went well, camp is in total disarray. If it didn’t, they still know I’m with Kronos. I can’t imagine Chiron would take that lightly. And,” he inclined his head, “I did kidnap you.”

You scoffed. “You didn’t kidnap me.”

“They’ll probably think so,” he said, and there was something strange in his eyes. “Doesn’t make sense for you to come with me willingly.”

This again. “Luke—”

“I know,” he said, a slight smile on his lips. There wasn’t much heart in it. “You don’t have to explain yourself again.”

“I just don’t want you to think I’m not with you,” you said. “I— I am. I’m only here for you, Luke.”

His eyes softened. “You mean it?”

“I do,” you nodded. “I couldn’t just leave you.”

“I don’t take any of this lightly, you know.” His eyes never wavered from yours, the orange light flickering across his face and casting a devilish shadow. “You being here means the world. Nothing’s gonna happen to you—I’ll make sure of it.”

“I’m not just gonna lay you out to dry, either,” you said wryly. “We’ll protect each other. Like we always have.”

“Exactly,” Luke affirmed. He bit into the apple he’d seemingly forgot about, and you looked up at the sky in the resulting silence.

It felt like your mind always drifted back to camp, back to your siblings and friends and the victims of Luke’s crusade.

Your summer siblings who would come back next year and wonder where you went, your year-rounders waking up the next morning and all the mornings after with a discontented glance at your bed. 

How long would it take for them to forget you? For you to just be another lost demigod in the camp files?

And poor Annabeth Chase. Luke practically raised her, and he walked out on her without a word—you considered yourself lucky he didn’t do the same to you, and you had no idea what awaited you on your path together. 

The gods had never been one for listening, and certainly not to you, but you hoped at least one of them would look down on you. Maybe your mother could provide some of that wizened second child advice, shine her favor on you for the first time in your life.

Well. You doubted Demeter would very much appreciate your quasi-support of the titan that ate her. The thing you should have considered yourself lucky for was that your powers still worked. 

Luke brought you back to Earth by saying your name, and your gaze snapped back down to meet his. His scar seemed especially grisly in the firelight, at odds with the softness of his expression—something that felt all too rare these days. 

“What’s on your mind?” he asked. 

“What else could possibly be on it?” you asked wryly, tossing the stick you’d been fiddling with into the fire. It crackled as the flames devoured it, something so out of its realm thrust into it anyways. 

“Stupid question,” he admitted. 

“We’re practically fugitives, Luke,” you said. “We have monsters after us, and possibly people from camp. We left everyone behind. I’m with you, trust me, but— but I can’t just get over it all as easily as you.”

“And I get that,” he said. “This—” he sighed and shook his head— “you really don’t know how much you being here means to me. I thought I was going to be out on my own on all this.”

Your throat bobbed. You’d never tell him, but you didn’t even know what your answer was going to be until the words left your mouth.

“And you’re telling me that you’d still choose them over me?”

“No,” you said. “I wouldn’t.”

Luke’s eyes softened and your throat felt like it was closing up.

“Then come with me,” he whispered. “We will change the world together.”

“I can’t,” you asserted. “I can’t just leave everyone behind— I’d be leaving my entire life behind, Luke!”

“You’ll help them more this way,” Luke insisted. “The gods aren’t on our side—we’re here so they don’t have to pay attention to us. If we want anything to change for the better, we’re gonna have to do it ourselves.” 

You bit your lip, and he brushed a strand of hair out of your face. 

“I wouldn’t ask you this if I didn’t think you were right for it,” he murmured, tilting his head as he gazed into your eyes. “Your mother’s never bothered to see you before. I’m gonna make her see you.” 

“How?” you asked, hating the hints of desperation coloring your voice. 

“You’ll see,” he said. “But we’re gonna do something so big that no one’s going to be able to ignore us.” 

Memories of the past four years flashed through your mind, but the two at the forefront were ones with Luke and ones without your mother. 

He’d always been there for you, even when Demeter—especially when she wasn’t.

You couldn’t just leave him on his own. Not when he was baring his soul to you—not when his quest for greatness included it for you too. 

Not when he was the first boy you ever loved, the one who brought you back from the god-induced edge. 

“…Okay,” you said, the word feeling like an ultimatum the moment it left your lips. “Okay. I’ll go with you.” 

He stared at you for a second like he didn’t hear you, or rather like he didn’t actually believe it. And then he broke out into a grin. 

“Really?” 

“Yes, really,” you said. “Have I ever lied to you?” 

“Go to your cabin and pack your bags,” Luke said, still unable to control his exuberant expression. We’ll meet each other at the top of the hill.” 

“Right now?” 

Luke nodded. “Only a couple hours until we’re harpy feed. Everyone’ll think we’re just leaving for the school year.” 

“You’ve always been a year-rounder,” you said. “Won’t people—” 

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “No one’ll think anything of it. We just have to get out before anyone asks any questions.” 

“Luke,” you murmured, “are you—” 

Luke cut you off with a blazing kiss, the same kind of fire in his eyes when he pulled away, a slight smile on his lips at leaving you breathless. 

“I’m sure,” he whispered. “You’re not going to regret this. I promise.” 

It was all you could do to stare up at him, his grip on your arms the only thing keeping you upright for a solid moment. 

“Go,” he said. “Take your time—don’t draw any suspicion. I’ll meet you there.”

“You’re really sure?” you asked, finally able to form words. “Really really sure? About this, a— and me?” 

He cupped your cheek, tracing his thumb along your jaw. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life than I am about you.” 

Leaving camp was insane—when Luke told you of Kronos’s plans, it was even more insane—but it had always been you and Luke. He’d been such a huge part of your life, ever since you first came to camp, that you couldn’t imagine yourself without him. 

And when you looked back at him, illuminated by the fire, you were sure of at least one thing. 

You weren’t leaving any time soon. Not when you could still fix all of this. 

A yawn got the better of you, and you felt Luke’s eyes on you as you covered your mouth with a fist. 

“You should get to sleep,” he said. “It’s been a long day.” 

“It’s been a long day for both of us,” you said. “We both had to get here—and you were the one who wandered around in the woods for two hours trying to hunt.” 

“How do you know I wandered?” Luke asked, setting the apple core down on the ground next to him. “You weren’t there. Maybe I had a very respectable saunter and just came up with nothing.” 

You chuckled. “The trees speak to me.” 

“Really?” he asked, clearly amused. “And what did they say?” 

“That you’re an awful hunter,” you mused, “and you should be very thankful that your girlfriend is good at everything.” 

Luke smirked and got up to start walking towards you. “Your ever-knowledgeable trees should know that I already know.” He kneeled down in front of you, a slight smile curling on your lips. “And that I am very thankful.” 

He pressed a heated kiss to your lips, and you reciprocated, looping an arm around him to keep him close before you pulled away. 

“It’s always good to hear it,” you murmured. 

“I’ll say it as many times as you need,” he assured. Luke stole another kiss then gestured towards your makeshift tent. “But you do need to get some sleep. We’re picking up at first light.” 

Your smile wavered. “We’ve been moving break-neck for a week already. Are you sure we can’t ease up?” 

“Soon,” Luke promised. “I told you, I just want to make sure we’ve lost any tails. We can’t afford that right now.” 

He must have seen the change in your expression, because his eyes softened and he took your hand. “It won’t be like this forever, babe. You can handle it.” 

“It doesn’t mean I want to,” you said dryly, but you sighed as you squeezed his hand. “I’ll turn in if you do too.” 

“Anything for you,” Luke said with a smile. You chuckled and shook your head as you stood up, and Luke grabbed his backpack before he went over to the tent with you. 

Your meager belongings weren’t much. You’d stuffed all the demigod essentials, some outfits, and a sleeping bag in your pack before hightailing it to Thalia’s tree, and Luke hadn’t packed much more—but at least it was light traveling. 

Every night had been spent in the same way, sharing your sleeping bag as you got what precious sleep Luke allocated before you were back on the road again. You were sure the only thing that got you through each early rising was his soft touches and easy murmured words. 

You laid down, staring up at the roof of brambles and bark, and you twisted your hand just so to make them twist away from each other for a small opening. 

Luke raised an eyebrow at you as he zipped his bag up, still crouched on the ground. “What’s that for?” 

You shrugged. “I’ve always liked sleeping under the stars.” 

Again, that small smile. It could still make you melt, even now. “I remember. I just hope it doesn’t start raining again.” 

“Like rain’ll be the worst thing we’ve dealt with,” you said wryly. “Besides, I can feel it in the air. We’re gonna be fine.”

“Yeah,” he said. “We are.” 

You glanced over and he was looking at you. You patted the spot next to you. 

“C’mon,” you said. “I’m cold.” 

“Oh, we can’t have that,” he said, amused, and he huddled in next to you. You let out a contented sigh as his body heat sunk into you, and he draped an arm across you to pull you closer. 

“That better?” he asked. 

You hummed in response. “Thank you.” 

“Always.” 

You closed your eyes as you exhaled deeply, trying your best to unwind the tension in every part of your body. You weren’t used to trekking miles every day, eating rations you’d packed from camp or gas station food from whenever you ended up close to town, only having the woods and the sky and Luke for company. It was starting to wear on you, but you weren’t going to let Luke know. 

“I love you,” Luke said suddenly, breaking the silence, his breath tickling your neck. Your eyes snapped open. “You know that, right?” 

A moment passed before you murmured, “I know.” 

You could feel some of the tension leave his body, and he adjusted his position to be closer to you. 

“Good.” 

His curls brushed against your skin as he rested his head in the crook of your neck. Luke was a comforting presence behind you, like an anchor in the choppy waters you’d thrown yourself into, but it… it just felt different than the countless other times. 

But that was only natural. You were back on the road, living the way you did when you first made the trip to Camp Half-blood with your satyr. Of course it felt different than the crowded chaos of the Hermes cabin, or the beach underneath a tapestry of stars, or your own bed at the behest of your siblings. The only thing that stayed the same was the scent of nature, and the scent of Luke. 

Things were different, yes, but you knew that would happen. Luke was different, but you knew that would happen—half the reason you came along with him was because you wanted to make sure he had a lifeline, a way to come back to shore when he decided his crusade was over. 

Because it had to be over eventually. He would decide that there was no way you could beat the gods, that it wasn’t worth killing himself over some meaningless mission. The gods had never cared about you before—you didn’t know why they would care about some half-baked rebellion by two of their least favorite kids. 

You loved Luke. He loved you. You told yourself that was all that mattered, because you were in this together now. 

For better or for worse. 

[impala-dreamer]

In The Arms of Sleep

A Supernatural Story

~ Death has been hunting him, turning every moment into a painful dream of blood and pain. His only hope for a moment's rest lies in her arms...~

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

2,985 Words

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of death and show level blood, Allusions to sex. Set right before the series finale. | Originally Published to Patreon 9/11/2023

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

He probably should have called first.

Probably should have at least texted.

It was too late now though.

She’d just have to deal with it.

The highway stretched out before him, undulating and twisting like so many tentacles of some viscous midnight monster. Black and unforgiving; poised to devour him should he jerk the wheel in the wrong way at the wrong moment.

Suddenly, the thought of a crash crossed his mind and he couldn’t break away from it. How many miles had he driven in his life? How many times had he transverse the country, weaving back and forth across the yellow lines; crossing state borders without a second thought. Impossible to count. And yet- he’d been in so few accidents that it was almost comical. It was statistically impossible that he hadn’t careened off a cliff in New England and plummeted into the icy waters of the Atlantic, or been mesmerized by a heat mirage outside of Phoenix and missed a turn, crashing into the rocks, his last moments spent hearing the sickening crunch of metal and bone.

For a moment, he saw himself, half alive and wheezing, chest punctured by the wreck of the steering wheel; both legs broken, face shredded and bleeding as he crawled from a mess of black steel. The Impala crumpled, smoke billowing from beneath the hood while fluids mixed on the blacktop below. He clawed at the dirt, nails breaking painfully as he struggled to pull himself from the rubble. Each movement sent white-hot pain through his body, but he kept going, desperate to save himself as flames licked at the upholstery, turning the slick, shining chrome to blazing orange.

Shaking himself, Dean cleared the vision from his mind and shifted in his seat. The soft leather cradled him perfectly and he sank into it a bit, letting himself relax even as he tightened his grip on the wheel.

Things like that had been happening more and more. Nightmares were common in his life, but bloody daydreams were a new phenomenon. They often came out of nowhere too, making it almost impossible to stay calm and on task. One moment, he was playing on his phone or fixing dinner, and the next, he was watching as bullets tore through his chest, blood erupting from the punctures in slow motion cascades of crimson. More often, it was some monster attack, something easy that he could handle on his own that caught him. He’d turn a corner in a farmhouse and be ripped apart by massive talons, feasted upon by wolves, drained by an earth-covered vampire.

Every moment now, he saw his death. Every breath he took sent images of the end into his mind. He was plagued by the sights, haunted by the feeling, exhausted and helpless. Despite his best efforts at drinking the scenes away, the whiskey only made things worse. He’d tried talking about it, but it sounded insane. Tried writing them down, but he wasn’t good with words, couldn’t get the emotions right, couldn’t describe the anxiety. Hell, he’d even tried meditating, but that only proved to make the thoughts more vivid and devastating.

He needed something that he couldn’t find back at home.

Needed something he knew would soothe him, even if only for one night.

He needed Y/N.

So, he drove. Miles and miles, wheels spinning so fast that human eyes couldn’t see the treds turning, gripping, biting at the roads. So fast that it felt as if the car would leave the blacktop and float on the wind, fly him right to her front door.

He wasn’t so lucky.

He drove through the day and deep into the night, stopping only for gas in Oklahoma and then to take a piss a few hours later. Landscapes changed outside the windows, trees growing tall and full; the earth deepening from deep yellow to rich green. The world outside passed by, but he couldn’t see it. All he could see was blood.

A little after two in the morning, he reached her street. The little blue house was set back a bit from the road, tall bushes fencing in a modest lawn. She’d inherited the property when her parents were killed; the same time she’d met Dean.

He’d saved her life that night, and many more times, she’d done the same for him. Whether she knew it or not, she was always on his mind.

Dean slowly slid into the empty space in front of her house and cut the engine. He switched off the headlights and peered up at the front left window. Her light was off; the house dark and quiet.

He should have called first.

Exhausted, he closed his eyes for a moment and considered leaving. He could drive back straight away and be home before Sam got to worrying or Miracle missed him too much and chewed up his slippers. He fingered the ignition key, running his thumb across the dull ridges, ready to jam it back into its place.

He took a breath and a muzzle flare ignited in his head; the silenced gun taking him down with a shot perfectly executed right between his eyes. He jumped and willed the vision to dissipate, but it refused, growing brighter as his soul darkened.

A light flipped on in the window above and Dean’s heart jolted out of rhythm.

He made it to the front door just as she pulled it open and green eyes flooded with tears.

“Dean?”

Her voice was like a balm to his aching soul and he slumped forward into her outstretched arms.

“I heard the car,” she whispered, chin digging into the crook of his neck. “I thought I was dreaming.”

Dean clasped his arms around her back and held on, refusing despite the cold night air that swirled around them, to let her go and follow her inside. He needed a moment. Needed to lay his troubles down before crossing the threshold.

“Not dreaming,” he answered in a sigh. “But I may be.”

She smiled and placed a hand on the back of his neck, holding him to her. “You OK?”

He laughed bitterly, body shaking against her. “Not even a little.”

Y/N pulled away just enough to look into his eyes. The green was darker than she remembered, his soul burdened with so much pain that the color was fading, growing deeper than the evergreens that lined the back of her property. She lay her hand softly against his cheek and his eyes fluttered shut. He leaned into the touch, desperate for any human connection, desperate for her. He took a choppy breath and set his jaw tight. She felt the muscles flex beneath her palm, and she pressed her fingertips into the side of his face, giving him something real to feel.

“Hey…”

Her voice was calm and sweet, hiding the worry in her heart. Dean’s lashes lifted and he looked down into her eyes. She smiled.

“You’re gonna be OK.”

He wanted to believe it, needed to put his faith in her words, but blood was dripping from the deep, imagined gashes in his mind, puddling at his feet, flooding the concrete steps.

Subtly, he shook his head. “I dunno about that.” He tried to smile, to sprinkle in a bit of Winchester charm, but he had none left. He closed his eyes again and once more, the sight of his flayed body floated by, and he shivered.

Y/N’s fingers tensed, her middle finger pushing lightly against his temple. “Dean…”

He opened his heart, but not his eyes. “Y/N, please-”  His voice cracked around her name; pathetic and spent.

Y/N’s hand slid from his cheek to his hand, closing around it and pulling him along as she turned.

They didn’t speak. The only sound in the darkness was the door closing behind them and his boots hitting the old hardwood floor. The white pine planks were thin and long, stretching out down a hallway that barely seemed familiar to him. She had painted since last he’d been there, but it was too dark to see the shade of green she’d chosen.

Y/N held his hand and walked straight down the hallway and to the left. If memory served him, it was her bedroom- a small rectangular room with a big antique brass bed pushed into the corner and hand painted art on the walls. She flipped the light switch and a dim lamp by the bed turned on. It did little to illuminate the room, but it was enough to guide them across the thick carpet.

She stopped by the side of the bed and turned to him.

“Boots off,” she said firmly.

Dean’s forehead creased in question. “Huh?”

She sighed and nodded to his feet. “You’re not getting into my bed with those filthy boots on.”

He drew his bottom lip between his teeth and bit down hard. He wanted nothing more than to slide into her arms, but something was blocking his movements. A strange tightness grew in his chest, spreading outward like clinging ivy. His throat closed, his breathing quickened. Tears welled, but he refused to let them fall.

Slowly, Y/N lifted her hands to slide the canvas jacket from his shoulders. “Relax,” she whispered, tugging the fabric off his thick arms. Carefully, she folded it in half and laid it on the corner of her bed. The army green popped against the pale rose comforter and Dean set his gaze upon the contrast, desperate to hold onto it and push the phantom blood aside.

He let her pull off his flannel; open his belt. When she reached for the hem of his gray tee, his hands shot around her wrists.

He shook his head. “Y/N…”

She smiled softly. “Let me.”

His grip released and she lifted the cotton up over his head. He sighed deeply as the sweaty shirt caressed his cheeks and he emerged with half a smile.

The room was cool. A vent in the floor to his right pushed a light breeze into the air and it chilled his exposed skin. It felt good.

Y/N tried not to linger too long over his naked chest, tried to ignore his soft belly, the dip that lay across his broad shoulders. Unconsciously, she lifted her hand to cover the ink on his chest, the same design he’d insisted she get tattooed on her hip. They were connected in that strange way, and sometimes she wondered if he could feel her tracing the arms of the pentagram on her own skin late at night.

Dean stared down at her, awed by her gentleness, her shadowy beauty. The lamplight danced on her cheeks, cut out the lines of her lips; highlighted the fringe of lashes over her eyes.

She could feel his eyes on her and looked up, meeting his gaze. He shivered as her fingers slipped down his chest, sucked in a breath as her nails bit lightly into the tender flesh of his hips, exhaled slowly when she tugged his zipper down.

As his jeans sank to his ankles, Y/N turned away and lifted the thin nightshirt from her body, leaving her naked but for a pair of lilac panties. She didn’t look back as she slid into bed and tucked herself in the corner by the wall. When she was in place, she rolled over and lifted her arms, calling Dean to her side.

He kicked his boots off, let the denim rest beside them. He kept his boxers on and gracefully climbed in beside her.

His head sank into the pillow and her scent flooded his senses. The cushion was cool and comforting, the blanket heavy in a delicious way that made his body finally relax. Y/N tucked him in and then cuddled closer, pressing her flesh against his.

Dean could feel her firm breasts against his side, the soft curve of her waist, the heft of her hips. He bathed in her heat and rolled towards her, ready to unburden his soul. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He cleared his throat but no words would form.

He struggled.

She smiled.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she assured him, scooting up a bit on the bed. “I’ve got you.” She shifted quickly and Dean fell against her chest, cradled in her arms.

He pressed his ear to her heart and closed his eyes. Every beat pulsed through him and he breathed slowly with her, letting the tears finally come.

The harder he cried, the tighter she held him. She ran her hands through his hair, rubbed at his shoulders, kissed the top of his head, again and again reassuring him that he was safe with her, cared for, and loved.

Dean slid his arm around her waist and held on, feeling more like a whimpering child than a man. Forty years hung on him like lead, threatening to twist his bones and break his spirit.

He cried it all out as Y/N held him. Every hunt gone wrong, every death and resurrection. He cried for his parents, he cried for Sam. He cried for every soul he’d tortured in Hell, every life on Earth he’d failed to save. He cried for Charlie and for Eileen; for Kevin and Crowley. He cried for Lisa, cried for Ben. He cried for his youth, his wins and losses. He cried for Cas.

Y/N absorbed every tear, soothed every sob. She rocked him gently as his body shook, traced circles in his back to give him something else to focus on. She never let her grip waiver, never let a second go by without touching him in some way.

Night lifted slowly and the sun poked at the curtains. The windows glowed with pink and golden light and Dean stirred.

He lifted his head from Y/N’s arm and blinked into the growing light. She was fast asleep, chest rising and falling gently with each breath. Half circles darkened the flesh beneath her eyes and her hair was a mess, but she was nothing short of beautiful in his eyes.

Dean breathed easy for the first time in a long while. He felt lighter. When he closed his eyes, he saw the empty darkness of his eyelids and nothing more. No death, no blood, no hiding dangers. He smiled.

Daring to wake her, he slid his fingers lightly across her forehead and tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear.

Y/N pulled in a heavy breath and her eyes fluttered open. She saw his face and smiled.

His eyes were brighter, his cheeks pink and warm.

“Mornin’,” he whispered, leaning closer to her lips.

“Good morning.” She licked her lips and looked down at his. Plump and wet, they pushed out a bit, reaching for hers. “You seem better…”

He smiled. “Thanks to you.”

She bit her lip, tugging the corner of her mouth between her teeth. Shyly, she looked up into his eyes and knew that, if only for a little while, he would be alright.

His kiss was heavy and needy, tongue pressing between her lips before she was prepared. She gasped into him, slid beneath him when he tugged her closer.

His weight was crushing and devastatingly arousing and Y/N spread her legs, wrapping herself around his waist. She could feel that he was as ready as she was, and reached down between them to pull her panties aside.

Dean propped up on his aching arms and gazed down at her. She was everything in that moment- lover, friend, nurse, savior. He licked at her lips again and closed his eyes, breathing every drop of her in. He held his breath, memorizing her taste, her scent, her warmth, and tucking it away for later.

He’d always need her.

Always love her.

They showered together; unwilling to part.

They held hands over slightly burned pancakes and chewy bacon.

They lingered in the doorway, clutched in each other’s arms.

“You sure you can’t stay?” she asked, refusing to let go.

Dean kissed the top of her head and gave her arms a squeeze. “I have to get back.”

“Places to go, people to save, right?” She laughed sadly and pulled back, giving him a faint smile. “I missed you, you know.”

He sighed and looked down for a moment, feeling the weight of everything pushing down on him again. Guilt rattled in his brain and he chewed his lip, rubbed her hand between both of his.

“I’m sorry-” His voice was deep and heavy.

She shook her head. “Don’t be. I’m just… I always miss you, Dean.”

He smiled. “I miss you too,” he confessed. “A lot.”

Y/N grabbed his hands and swung them playfully at their sides. “So… maybe don’t stay away too long next time, huh?”

“I won’t.” Dean dragged her hands to his lips and kissed the knuckles on each hand. “I promise.”

One last kiss goodbye, one last press of her body against his.

The road home was just as long but a little bit easier. He carried the feel of her home with him, kept her face in the back of his mind. She was like a soldier in his head, forever poised and ready to defend him, to cast away the visions that plagued his daydreams, to set his heart right when his faith began to dissipate. An angel there to keep him safe and guard his nights, a gentle love to make everything alright.

Death would come for him soon enough, but for now, he drove the highways and unpaved backroads home with a new sense of hope. He could watch the trees fly by, enjoy the changing horizon and let the light seep into his soul.

He felt better.

He felt strangely OK.

He was glad he hadn’t called.

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[littlest-w01f]

Heartburn

Sylus x MC

SYLUS MASTERLIST

FULL FANFICTION SUBMISSION FOR where drakeshadows fall contest

WORDCOUNT: 5K+

Summary: Finding an injured dragon out in the dead caves of Tarus City, doesn't end in the way MC quite imagined

Cw: Elements of fluff and angst, annoyed strangers to lovers? Not really *enemies* enemies

Heartburn

-A burning sensation in the central chest or upper central abdomen.

Rumours had long circulated about the fabled dragon beast who once called the crumbling spires of Tarus City their home, but most believed them to be more than a myth. Until now.

The ancient stone walls seemed to whisper as MC cautiously ventured deeper into the forgotten keep. Dust motes danced in the slanted beams of sunlight filtering through narrow windows high above. She ran a hand along the weathered battlements, imagining the grandeur this place must have held centuries ago, when it was more than just ruins.

With the heart of an explorer and hunter, MC had found herself miles away from her home village to the remote fields of the city. Suddenly, a faint rustling echoed from a cave ahead, sounding like wings, and a man's grunting, causing MC to freeze. Her pulse quickened as she drew her dagger, its worn leather handle fitting comfortably in her grip.

As the eerie sounds grew louder, MC crept closer to the cave entrance, her senses heightened. The air inside carried a pungent scent of sulfur and the metallic tang of blood. With each cautious step, the ground beneath her boots crunched under layers of dust and debris.

Suddenly, a massive shadow loomed before her, blocking out the dim light filtering in from behind. MC's breath caught in her throat as she beheld the fearsome creature emerging from the darkness - a dragon like those she had seen and heard told of only in tales. Its scales glistened like polished obsidian, beside the humanoid face and body, horns growing from his silver hair, reflecting the faint illumination in an otherworldly sheen.

He growled when his crimson eyes met hers, pushing himself on his forearms, the muscles in his arms tensing, that's when MC noticed that he was injured. The smell of blood was coming from him, and his tail, scaled, held a deep gash in it.

Sylus' gaze locked onto MC, piercing and intense. A low rumble emanated from his chest, almost a warning, yet there was something else in those fiery eyes, a flicker of pain, perhaps even desperation. His movements were laboured, each push of his forearms against the earth leaving trails of sweat and dirt marring his otherwise pristine form. "Did you do this?" He demanded, eyes on the dagger MC was holding, "You humans and your weapons. You could never keep up with us..." He seemed too angry to continue what he wished to say and let out a rough growl that nearly shook the cave.

MC stood frozen, her mind racing to comprehend the situation unfolding before her. This magnificent being, clearly a dragon from her books, spoke with a velvety tongue, albeit one laced with venomous disdain. The anger radiating from Sylus was palpable, his words cutting through the thick air like a blade.

She slowly lowered her dagger, keeping it at the ready should hostilities escalate further. "No, I didn't attack you," MC replied calmly, trying to soothe the volatile situation. "I'm not here to hunt." She was a hunter, but she doubted the dragon would like to hear that.

Sylus looked up at her, and with a single blink, his crimson eyes softened, "Will you help me then?"

A glimmer of surprise crossed MC's face at the sudden shift in Sylus' demeanour. She hesitated for a moment, weighing her options carefully. The last thing she expected was to encounter a wounded dragon seeking aid.

"I... Suppose so," MC said finally, taking a tentative step closer. "But first, tell me why you're here, and how did you get hurt?" She kept her voice gentle, sensing the fragility of the sudden truce between them. As she neared, the extent of Sylus's injuries became clearer, the gash on his tail, it didn't appear too big or deep, but he was losing blood, the pallor of his skin, and the laboured rise and fall of his chest. It was clear this mighty creature needed assistance, and fast.

In front of her eyes, the dragon's tail healed, and MC found herself losing her balance, she felt claws at her head, banging her against the cave rocks. "I can stink a liar from a mile away!" He hissed, his tail curling around him, pointing at her temple, going down her cheeks, to her throat.

Panic set in as Sylus' talons dug into MC's skin. His hot breath washed over her, reeking of smoke and making her dizzy. She tried to struggle, but the dragon's hold was unyielding, his grip tightening around her slender neck.

"You tried to deceive me," Sylus growled, his voice a menacing hiss close to her ear. "Humans are all the same – sneaky, manipulative. I knew better than to trust one."

Realization dawned on MC as the pieces fell into place, that she in fact had been the one to hurt him. The flamed arrowhead she'd tested earlier, the one that had flown wildly off target, that is why she probably smelled like it to the beast. It must have struck Sylus, wounding him gravely on his tail. The memory of her carelessness hit her like a punch to the gut.

"No, wait! Please listen," MC pleaded, her voice strained as Sylus' claws constricted around her throat. "It wasn't intentional! I was testing a new weapon and lost control. I never meant to harm you."

Sylus' grip loosened slightly at MC's desperate plea, his burning gaze searching her face for any hint of deception. After a tense moment, he released her completely, allowing her to slump back against the rocky wall, gasping for air as he roared. "SO IT WAS YOU!"

"Why would I believe you now after your deceit? You are a liar-" Sylus growled, his tone still heavy with suspicion. MC, out of fright, shut her eyes, keeping them closed but the dragon's claw never came to cut her into pieces, only a frustrated growl came as she felt her own hand lifted.

An enchanted golden hue hummed softly against their skin, pulsing with an otherworldly energy, joining their wrists together. MC opened her eyes wide, staring at the cuff in shock and dismay.

Bound together. Chained to a dragon. MC couldn't believe herself, through the screaming she had done with Sylus, he had taken off, carrying her with him, through the skies. Fear surged through her as Sylus flew like MC was an annoying bug he was trying to get off him.

The wind whipped past MC's face, stinging her eyes and tugging at her hair as they soared through the clouds. She clung desperately to Sylus' scaly side, her knuckles white where they gripped him frantically. The world below dwindled to a patchwork of greens and browns, growing smaller with each passing second.

"What are you doing? Where are we going?" She shouted over the roar of the wind, her voice barely audible. But her words fell on deaf ears as Sylus continued his relentless flight, the enchanted cuff binding them tighter with every passing second.

Sylus said nothing, he just began to dip, as if he were testing the grip of what bound them together, while MC couldn't help but pray that the link between them didn't disappear as fast as it had appeared

Sylus' descent was steep and swift, sending MC's stomach plummeting into her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for impact, but it never came. Instead, the dragon levelled out, hovering mere feet above the dense canopy of a lush forest. Towering trees stretched towards the sky, their leaves rustling gently in the breeze created by their passage.

With a powerful beat of his wings, Sylus landed gracefully among the branches, the impact jolting MC hard against his side. For a moment, they hung suspended, swaying slightly in the treetop embrace before the dragon shifted, settling them both onto a sturdy branch.

MC opened her eyes, blinking away the lingering spots of light, and took in their surroundings. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth. "You!" She rasped out, even though the word held no bite, "How could-" She spoke through heavy breaths, "How-" Sylus watched in amusement, crossing his arms over his chest, forcing her closer through their link, as MC simply reached for her dagger, her legs quivering from the flight. "YOU!"

Sylus chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through the magical bond connecting them. He leaned in closer, his face inches from hers, his warm breath washing over her skin. "You think a little thing like a dagger will protect you from me now?" He taunted, his crimson eyes gleaming with mischief.

MC's heart raced, her fingers trembling as she fumbled with the hilt of her weapon. But before she could draw it, Sylus' hand shot out, wrapping around her wrist in a vice-like grip. With a deft twist, he pried the dagger free and tossed it aside, the blade clattering uselessly to the forest floor far below.

MC's eyes widened in horror as she watched her dagger fall, the weight of its loss sinking in. She struggled against Sylus' iron grasp, but it was futile. His strength was immense, and the magical cuff ensured she couldn't break free.

"Let me go!" She demanded, her voice rising in desperation. "This isn't over!"

Sylus merely smirked, his expression unrepentant. "Oh, but it is," he said, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction. "You're mine now, human. All tied to me." He pulled at their bond to punctuate his words, "What's going to happen now? Perhaps I'll keep you like my treasure." He taunted.

With those ominous words, he pulled MC flush against his chest, the heat of his scales seeping through the thin fabric of her clothing. She could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat, a reminder of the power that now controlled her fate.

"Is this what keeps you alive?" MC pulled another dagger from her bodice, pressing it against the red gem that made the center of his chest.

MC's eyes locked onto the crimson gem, her finger poised to plunge the dagger home. But Sylus' counter move caught her off guard, his claw finding her heart over her chest with uncanny precision. The hot scales of his claw met the warmth of her skin, a feeling that sent shivers down her spine.

Sylus almost seemed impressed with her. "Is this what keeps you alive?" He asked in return. His claw then rested over her chest, right over where her heart was. their bound wrists meeting in the middle.

The implication hung heavy in the air, leaving MC feeling vulnerable and exposed. She could hardly breathe, her lungs constricting under the pressure of his gaze and the physical restraint, yet she refused to back her dagger down. The dragon's presence seemed to fill the entire clearing, dwarfing everything else until it was just the two of them, bound by magic and circumstance.

Slowly, deliberately, Sylus tilted his head, bringing his face closer to hers, horns brushing her head. "I could devour you and there will be nothing left of you. But if you kill me, you'll have to carry the deadweight along. And who knows how long it takes for a human to starve to death, dangling from a tree?"

MC felt a shiver run down her spine. She knew he was toying with her, enjoying the power dynamic that favoured him. Sylus' words dripped with cruel amusement, his fiery gaze boring into MC's very soul. He could see the fear and uncertainty swirling in her eyes, the way her body trembled beneath his touch. It was intoxicating, knowing he held such control over her.

"You're playing a dangerous game, treasure," He warned, his claw applying gentle pressure to her chest, a silent threat, the nickname a taunt. "But I suppose I can appreciate the spirit."

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he whispered, "Tell you what, treasure. I'll make you a deal. Keep that dagger sheathed, and I might just let you live... For a while longer, anyway." As they stood close, something like heartburn spread through his chest.

MC's heart pounded in her chest, a frantic rhythm that echoed the turmoil within her. She swallowed hard, her mind racing to process the gravity of the situation. She was at the mercy of this dragon, forced to be with him till she could be free. The best she could do was find a way to stay alive.

"I understand" She managed to choke out, her voice barely above a whisper.

A flicker of surprise crossed Sylus' face at MC's acquiescence, but it was quickly replaced by a smug grin. "Good girl." He purred, his claw slowly retracting from her chest.

It had been days, nearly a week that MC was bound with the dragon, Sylus, in that time, they had learned each other's names, and that was enough for the two despite being linked to each other.

These days had passed since that fateful day when Sylus and MC had been chained to each other's sides. In that time, they had grown accustomed to each other's presence, learning to navigate the complexities of their unlikely bond.

At first, the silence between them had been oppressive, the only sound was the rush of wind and the occasional snort from the dragon, the random mentioning of his treasury, how he had collected the best things from the entire continent. Growls and groans from them when they had tried to share a bed for the first time, But gradually, they had begun to speak, exchanging small talk about their lives before the cuff had brought them together.

They had decided to stay at his cave, since MC couldn't possibly return home with a dragon as her hip, and had convinced Sylus to take her out into the fields once a day so she wouldn't feel cooped up. Sylus had stopped hissing at MC for ruining his first few hunts while they were trying to work around being bound, they had gone hungry those nights, and MC still was yet to hear the end of it.

MC found herself growing more comfortable in Sylus' presence. Gone were the initial jitters and fearful thoughts. Now, she could sit beside him in silence without feeling an overwhelming sense of dread.

Their conversations, though infrequent, had become more natural. They would discuss the weather, the taste of the food they hunted, or the peculiarities of the landscapes they traversed. Occasionally, MC would regale Sylus with tales from her homeland, and he would listen intently, his crimson eyes glinting with curiosity.

Despite their growing rapport, sleep remained a challenge for both MC and Sylus, all because of their different sleep schedules, while MC slept at night, Sylus chose to rest in the morning. The physical proximity required by the enchanted cuff meant they often found themselves tangled together during their sleep, their bodies reacting instinctively to each other's warmth and scent.

MC would wake up to find herself shoved down the bed, Sylus' grumbling sound telling her that she had been draped across his chest, but whenever her face nestled in the crook of his neck, his scales provided a soothing counterpoint to her soft skin. The dragon, too, would occasionally stir in his sleep, his claws gently kneading her stomach as he settled into a deeper slumber, horns digging into her cheek, but MC wasn't quite able to shove the giant dragon off her, so she would retalisate with a stab at his back, and watch fascinated and annoyed as he healed, not carrying enough to wake up.

These entanglements often led to brief, restless skirmishes as they adjusted to each other's presence. Grunts and muffled curses would punctuate the caves those times, followed by periods of tense quiet as they regained their composure.

MC discovered that beneath Sylus' gruff exterior lay a dry sense of humour and keen intelligence. He regaled her with tales of his kind, of ancient battles fought and won, of hidden treasures and forgotten lore. In turn, she shared stories of her own world, of the village she hailed from and the adventures she had wanted to embark upon.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow across the landscape, Sylus settled down on a rocky outcropping. MC sat beside him, her legs tucked under her as she gazed out at the vast expanse of wilderness stretching before them.

"So, tell me more about these ancient battles you have fought," MC prompted, her curiosity piqued by the tales Sylus had shared earlier. "What drove you to clash with the others?"

Sylus chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through his chest and into MC's arm, which rested against him. "Ah, the eternal conflicts of our kind. Mostly, it was a struggle for dominance, for the right to rule over the skies and land alike, command the respect of all lesser creatures."

Sylus' eyes gleamed with a mix of nostalgia and pride as he spoke of his people's history. "We dragons were fiercely independent, but we also crave recognition and admiration. In the old days, a dragon's strength and cunning were the ultimate measures of worth."

He paused, lost in thought for a moment before continuing. "Of course, there were also disputes over territory, resources, and the... Romantic... Affections of certain folk." A scowl played on his lips at the mention of the latter. "Not that I am ever driven by such... Human... Emotions of love, or fear, or any really."

MC couldn't help but chuckle at Sylus' haughty declaration. "Oh really? Then why did you seem so bothered when I accidentally ruined your hunt a few weeks ago?" She cocked her head, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I mean, I've seen you sulk like a child denied a treat ever since. It was just a rabbit. That's an emotion, sulking, being angry and all. Disappointed."

"That was merely a minor setback," He growled, his voice taking on a defensive tone. "It is not my fault that your clumsy interference disrupted my well-planned strategy."

Despite his protests, a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, betraying his true feelings. "Besides, I suppose even a mighty dragon such as myself can appreciate a bit of... Company... On occasion." His gaze drifted to MC, and for a fleeting instant, something almost akin to affection flickered in his eyes before he looked away, clearing his throat. "However annoying as it may be."

Intrigued by the intricate markings on Sylus' palm, MC reached out tentatively, her fingers hovering just above his scaled skin. The dragon's crimson eyes narrowed slightly, but he made no move to stop her exploration. "May I?"

Sylus raised his brow, "What are you going to do? Read my hand like I'm some human?"

MC nodded, "Yes. I used to read my friends'. I could do it for you too."

With a slight smirk, Sylus extended his hand further, allowing MC to examine the intricate patterns etched into his palm. "Very well, little human. Go ahead and try to decipher the secrets of a dragon's destiny if you wish."

As MC's fingers brushed against his scales, Sylus felt a strange tingling sensation, as if the simple contact had awakened dormant nerve endings, giving him heartburn again, making him clear his throat hoping that would soothe the ache. He watched her closely, intrigued by her curiosity and the delicate way she explored his hand.

"What do you see?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. "Do the lines foretell great triumphs for me?"

"Well, this one," She traced a line on the inside of his claw, "Represents how old you will grow. This one, when you will find love." Sylus snorted at that but didn't interrupt much, then MC traced a different line, "And this shows your wealth and fortune." She looked up at him, "You already have that stolen, right?" She hummed, Sylus had wanted to throw her in his treasury, on the piles of gold, diamonds and rare gems, but that made it quite impossible without him staying there too, given their linkage.

When MC stroked a scar, Sylus spoke up, "Those are not lines, treasure." His tone teased, "That's a scar from a battle won."

"Oh," MC then hummed, "Well, then this one means you are powerful."

Sylus shook his head, "Now you are just making things up."

"So, this one doesn't mean you're beautiful?" She traced another scale, the bold statement out before she could stop herself.

Sylus let out a deep, rumbling laugh, clearly amused by MC's playful attempts to interpret his palm markings. "No, little human, that particular scale simply indicates the location of a particularly stubborn patch of scale on my claw."

His teasing words were laced with warmth, and MC could sense a genuine fondness beneath his gruff exterior. She smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "Well, I think you're beautiful regardless," She said softly, her fingers lingering on his scales.

Sylus' laughter subsided, replaced by a contemplative silence. His chest was targeted with pains again. He looked away from MC, hating the twist in his chest.

Flying with Sylus was different now. He carried MC in his arms, soaring through the skies. For the first time, MC let herself see down the fields and not be scared of the height. She knew Sylus wouldn't drop her, not that he could with their link still intact.

As they flew, Sylus marvelled at the change in MC. Her initial terror had given way to wonder and exhilaration, her face alight with joy as she took in the breathtaking views unfolding below them. The trust she placed in him, despite everything, stirred something deep within the dragon's ancient heart. She trusted him, the thought left his chest tightened.

He tightened his grip slightly, pulling her closer against his chest as a particularly strong gust buffeted them. "Hold tight, treasure," he rumbled, his breath ruffling her hair. "The winds can be unpredictable at this altitude."

MC nodded, pressing herself more firmly into Sylus' embrace. She could feel the powerful play of muscles beneath his scales as he navigated the currents, each beat of his massive wings carrying them higher, faster. The sensation was exhilarating, almost addictive.

The wind made her ears close up, the feeling instead of scaring her made her laugh. Sylus heard the delightful sound of MC's laughter carried on the wind, mingling with the rush of air past their faces. It warmed his heart like no battle glory or hoarded treasure ever could. He felt a strange urge to protect this fragile, beautiful creature at all costs, to ensure her happiness above all else.

All of a sudden, their moment was broken by MC slipping out of Sylus' grasp, their link broken as MC began to freefall from the sky, her laughter cut off abruptly by a startled scream. Time seemed to slow as Sylus watched, horror-stricken, his precious cargo plummeting towards the unforgiving earth below. The broken link left him confused, too taken aback to intervene, chest burning as he felt his massive wings would be unable to reach her in time.

With a roar of anguish, Sylus dove after MC, his claws extended in a desperate bid to catch her. But the gap between them only widened, the wind tearing at his scales as he hurtled downwards. The landscape rushed up to meet them, a blur of green and brown.

Just as all hope seemed lost, Sylus managed to snag MC's arm with his talons, barely slowing her fall. He pulled up back into the sky, holding MC close to him as he regained his equilibrium. Once airborne again, Sylus gazed down at MC with a mixture of relief and concern etched across his features. She clung to him tightly, eyes wide with shock.

"Are you alright, treasure?" He asked, his voice low and soothing, tail coiled around her waist to hold her close to him. "Did you suffer any injuries during the fall?" Cupping her cheeks, he looked for any injuries.

MC breathed heavily, gripping his biceps hard, she was shaking slightly. She looked up at him, and a smile formed on her lips, "You like me-" She chuckled, her voice almost singing the words, laughter bubbling in her throat.

"I..." Sylus scoffed, his eyes locked onto hers, a tumult of emotions swirling within the depths of his irises. There was fear, worry, relief, but also something deeper, something he hadn't expected to feel for a human. A certain warmth spread through his chest, radiating outward, making his scales tingle. "I do... Not."

"Yes. I do not. I could drop you now on purpose and will not care." His tail softened around her waist, as if he would drop her, but at the same time, his arms tightened around her.

"I think you're lying," MC teased, poking Sylus' chest lightly. "Besides, if you really wanted to drop me, you would have done so already. If you wanted me gone you wouldn't have tried to hard to catch me."

She leaned back, looking up at him. Her eyes were bright, sparkling with mischief. "But don't worry, I won't tell anyone about your secret affection for me, Sylus." Her tone was playful, yet there was an undertone of genuine concern.

Sylus' eyes narrowed, a low growl rumbling in his throat at MC's teasing words, at his name on her lips. "You presume much, little human," He rumbled, his voice a mix of warning and reluctant amusement. "My actions are my own, not some declaration of affection." With that, he set MC down in the fields.

Sylus and MC exchanged a glance, both reaching out to touch the empty space where their link once resided, wrists free. The realization hit them simultaneously. Their unique connection had vanished without a trace.

After a few moments of silence, MC spoke up, "Are... Are we free now?" The words weren't as certain as she wanted them to be. A few days ago, she would've been thankful that the golden link between them was broken, but now, she wasn't so sure anymore

She glanced up at Sylus, her expression uncertain, searching for reassurance. "What happens now? Will we part ways and never see each other again?"

Sylus' gaze lingered on her, a complex mix of emotions playing across his features. Regret, perhaps, but also a hint of relief. He had grown accustomed to having her by his side, even if their circumstances were full of distant before.

"We will find our paths," He said finally, his voice measured. "You will return to your people, and I will resume my duties here." The words sounded final, but the way he avoided meeting her eyes betrayed a flicker of uncertainty.

"I have to go back." MC nodded slowly, accepting his statement even as doubts niggled at the edges of her mind. "But, I don't have to leave today itself..." She shrugged, a gentle smile forming on her lips.

Sylus' eyes widened slightly at her words, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he schooled his expression into a neutral mask. "Is that so?" He rumbled, his tone cautious. "And what, pray tell, is keeping you here?"

MC's smile grew wider, a mischievous glint entering her eye. "Oh, just the prospect of spending more time with a certain dragon who claims not to care for me," She replied, her voice light and teasing. She reached out to brush a scale of Sylus' cheek, her fingers lingering on his warm skin. Sylus' nostrils flared, his breath catching in his throat at the intimate touch.

MC curiously moved where she sat all of a sudden, "Are… Are those dandelions?" She spoke, eyes trailing on a few little flowers.

Sylus' gaze followed MC's pointing finger, and indeed, amidst the rugged terrain, a few lone dandelions stood tall, their delicate small petals swaying gently in the breeze. "How... Unusual," He murmured, tilting his head in contemplation. "Flora is scarce here, especially something as benign as a weed."

Intrigued, Sylus shifted his body, and reached out a clawed hand towards the dandelions. With surprising gentleness, he plucked one of the flowers, bringing it closer to examine. The fine golden hairs on its stem caught the fading sunlight, casting a warm glow.

Now that he held the flower, he was unsure of what to do with it, "Would you like to hold it, human?" He said before he could stop himself.

MC was surprised by Sylus' offer, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. For a moment, she simply stared at the dragon, her mind racing to process this gesture. Slowly, hesitantly, she extended her hand, allowing Sylus to place the delicate dandelion in her palm. "Thank you, Sylus."

As soon as her fingers closed around the stem, a gentle puff of wind carried a few loose seeds drifting lazily through the air. MC watched, transfixed, as they danced and twirled, eventually settling on her shoulder and hair. A soft, wistful sigh escaped her lips.

"You know, back home, dandelions symbolize wishes and hope," She murmured, her gaze lingering on the tiny white tufts clinging to her dark locks. "People make a wish when they blow on the seeds, believing they'll carry their dreams far away."

Sylus found himself smiling, "Well, do you want to make a wish?" He rested against a nearby boulder, paying her his full attention.

A tender, nostalgic look crossed MC's face as she recalled the carefree childhood of her village. "I used to love doing that," She reminisced, her voice tinged with a bittersweet fondness. "Making wishes on dandelions, chasing fireflies at dusk, playing hide-and-behind among the wildflowers and bushes..."

Her thoughts drifted further, to the simple joys she'd left behind in pursuit of adventure and freedom. A faint melancholy coloured her expression, but it was quickly replaced by a determined spark in her eyes. She closed her eyes, making her wish she blew on the flower.

"That sounds lovely, treasure." He murmured, taking a seat right beside her, making her smile. The term wasn't fully mocking anymore, like he owned her, but it almost sounded like... Endearment

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm orange glow over the rolling hills, Sylus and MC sat together in comfortable silence. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming wildflowers, a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere that had surrounded them mere moments before.

MC closed her eyes, savouring the peaceful moment. The weight of her responsibilities, the constant need to prove herself, seemed to melt away in the presence of nature's serenity. When she opened her eyes again, she found Sylus watching her intently, his expression unreadable in the fading light. "Youuu like me-" She rested her head against his shoulder.

"Whatever makes you believe that, treasure." He shook his head, his long tail swishing the air and thumping gently against MC's back like a pendulum. Despite his nonchalant tone, Sylus couldn't help but relax further into the grassy terrain, his body language betraying a sense of contentment. He wrapped his tail more snugly around MC, providing a comforting warmth that seemed to seep into her very bones.

The steady beat of his tail against her set MC to sleep, with a sigh, she curled around her lap. Sylus tensed at the way she rested on his lap, the sight of her like that made his heart too heavy, feel too much. His chest started burning again. Heartburn. He felt it again.

Something like fear chilled through Sylus' bones at the thought of never feeling this full again, at his heart, never feeling like his heart was about to stop like this. MC would leave, probably never return, how would he be man enough to deserve her? Could he ever be more than a monster feared, hated and hunted by the rest of the villages? He wasn't really sure. But she had called him beautiful. And that was good enough for him.

Wetness brimmed his eyes, he gasped, trying to stay quiet so he wouldn't disturb her, the heartburn was making him feel, fear, it was fear, so much fear.

Tears pricked at the corners of Sylus' eyes, threatening to spill over. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the moisture, but it only seemed to intensify the sensation. The lump in his throat grew, making it difficult to draw breath.

MC stirred slightly in her sleep, nuzzling closer to Sylus' lap. Even in her sleep, she sought comfort in his presence, unaware of the turmoil brewing within him. Her trust in him, her acceptance despite everything, it was a weight he didn't know how to bear.

With a shuddering exhale, Sylus surrendered to the overwhelming emotions, letting the tears flow freely down his scaled cheeks, the liquid evaporating with how his cheeks were burning. He held MC tighter with his tail, wrapping a wing around her, as if afraid she might disappear if he let go, even for a moment.

Overwhelmed with emotion, he felt his chest impossibly tightened. Heartburn, he would call it. Until he wasn't so scared to call it love.

Love. The word echoed in Sylus' mind, resonating deeply within his chest. It was foreign, yet familiar, terrifying, yet exhilarating. He had never allowed himself to consider such feelings, not after what he had become. But here, at this moment, with MC safe in his embrace, he couldn't deny it any longer.

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the storm of emotions to subside, but they only intensified, swirling within him like a maelstrom. Fear, longing, hope - all tangled together in a mess of uncertainty.

Sylus' sobs were silent, save for the occasional hitch in his breathing. He buried his face in the crook of MC's neck, his hot tears soaking into her hair as he struggled to contain the depth of his emotions.

His tail, usually so strong and confident, now trembled with vulnerability. It wrapped protectively around MC, as if to shield her from the intensity of his feelings. Each ragged breath he took seemed to shake his entire being, his body quivering with the force of his pent-up longing.

For a long while, he simply held her, allowing himself to be overwhelmed by the tidal wave of sentimentality. It was a release he had denied himself for far too long, a catharsis born from the profound connection he shared with the girl in his arms.

Heartburn. Yes, he would call it heartburn for now.

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[multi-fandoms-posts]

Secrets in the Storm

X Men Masterlist

The sky outside is heavy and dark as the jet flies through the storm. Inside, Y/N, Charles, and Erik sit tense and silent. Their mission: to infiltrate a dangerous facility where mutants are being held—a task that requires the utmost concentration. Yet something is distracting Charles. His gaze is restless, and he rubs his forehead.

“Charles, what’s wrong?” Y/N asks, noticing his unease.

“It’s hard to explain,” he murmurs, closing his eyes. “There’s… a presence. I feel something, but I can’t quite grasp it.”

Erik, who is monitoring the instruments, turns to him. “Now is not the time for riddles, Charles. Focus on the mission.”

Charles nods, but the feeling doesn’t leave him. This presence is powerful, but different from anything he has ever felt before. He tries to ignore it, but it lingers. Something important that he doesn’t yet understand.

As the jet lands, they must move quickly. The facility is hidden behind dense trees, the rain making the ground muddy and slippery. They run through the forest, each step cautious, ready for the upcoming fight. But Charles keeps stopping, his thoughts drifting back to the strange presence. He knows he can’t ignore it any longer, but now is not the time to question it.

When they reach the facility, the battle erupts. Erik raises his arms, metal beams tear from the walls, hurling enemies to the ground. Y/N fights with swift, precise movements, while Charles uses his telepathic abilities to confuse their foes. Then, the presence in Charles’ mind becomes suddenly overwhelming. It hits him like a revelation he hadn’t anticipated.

“Erik!” he calls telepathically. “It’s Y/N…”

“What about her?” Erik dodges an attack and sends several metal pieces crashing into his enemies. “I’m busy, Charles!”

“She’s pregnant.”

Erik stops abruptly, and before he can react, he is struck hard from the side. He is slammed against the wall, the metal structure behind him bending under the impact. Erik collapses to the ground, dazed. Charles immediately feels a surge of anger rising within him.

“Erik!” Y/N calls, but before she can move, Charles raises his hands. The telepathic barrier he creates is stronger than ever, forcing the enemies back, driving them to their knees. His eyes sparkle with determination.

But Erik is already up again, blood running down his forehead, yet he ignores it. With a deep, angry breath, he extends his hands, and the metal structures of the facility twist and shatter under his command. “No one,” he growls, “touches her.” His rage unleashes a massive shockwave, throwing enemies against the walls and shaking the facility to its core.

“What’s wrong with you two?” Y/N shouts as she continues to fight, confused by the sudden shift in their fighting styles. “Why are you so aggressive?”

Charles doesn’t respond; his mind is solely focused on protecting Y/N and the child. “We need to protect her, Erik,” he sends telepathically.

Erik simply nods and unleashes another wave of metal and fury. Metal plates slice through the air, crushing enemies in a destructive whirlwind. Every move Erik makes is wild and deadly, his powers unleashed with an intensity Y/N has never seen before.

Charles is equally relentless. He delves deeper into the enemies’ minds, forcing them to turn their weapons on each other. Every attack is more precise, every blow harder, as he knows Y/N and the life she carries must be protected.

Finally, after a long, brutal fight, the last enemies lie on the ground. The facility is secured, but the air is heavy with tension and unspoken truths. Erik breathes heavily, his eyes fixed on Y/N, while Charles remains vigilant.

Back in the jet, as the world outside is engulfed in the storm, the three sit exhausted together. Y/N keeps throwing questioning glances at Erik and Charles, both of whom are visibly tense. Finally, she breaks the silence.

“What was that? Why did you suddenly fight like that?”

Charles takes a deep breath and sits next to Y/N. “There’s something you need to know,” he begins cautiously. “During the mission, I felt something I couldn’t initially place. But then I realized what it was.”

Y/N looks at him, her confusion growing. “What do you mean, Charles?”

Charles looks to Erik, who nods briefly before speaking to Y/N. “You… you’re pregnant, Y/N,” Charles says quietly.

For a moment, Y/N just stares at him, as if she hasn’t understood. “What?”

Y/N is speechless, her hand moving incredulously to her stomach. “I… how? How could I not know?”

Erik moves closer and takes her hand. “We didn’t know either,” he says softly, “but when Charles felt it, we knew one thing: We have to protect you and the baby. That’s why we fought the way we did.”

Y/N looks at the two of them, her eyes wide with shock and surprise. But deep in her heart, she feels that she is no longer alone. She has a family ready to do anything to protect her and the unborn child.

“We will do everything to protect you,” Charles says gently, his eyes full of resolve.

“No matter the cost,” Erik adds, his voice firm and clear.

And Y/N knows she is not alone—she has two of the most powerful mutants in the world by her side, who will not hesitate to sacrifice everything for her and the life she carries.

[rebeliz7]

The Transporter

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Count: 2262

… 

You were screwed. 

You had two rules, two unbreakable rules. Two rules that have allowed you to survive for as long as you have in your line of work. 

The first one was to never ask any unnecessary questions. Your job was simple. You transported packages, no matter what it was, no matter how far you had to go or how long it’d take you to get it to its destination. 

You’ve gained quite a reputation because of that first rule, and you were never short on job offers because of it. People valued your work policy, because they valued their privacy.  

You were, what the kids would call these days, a delivery person and that was the essence of what you did, only you mobilized very expensive and more often than not dangerous packages.

Your clients--were not good people, but that was not your problem. Of course you suspected it but to be quite honest, you never expected to be caught by the Avengers on your way back home after a well done job. 

Long story short, they did catch you and they dropped you in a dark cell for months, and that was alright, you weren’t afraid because you didn’t know anything besides the addresses where you dropped off your packages. 

You knew nothing about the packages you delivered, you never peaked and the only question that always interested you when a new job came along was, where do I take it?

“You ready to talk?” The Captain asks from across the table, and you grin at her. They’ve been doing this everyday for the last couple of months. 

Each morning you’re taken to an interrogation room, where a new avenger is always waiting for you.

“What do you want to talk about today, love?” You ask her, and she pins you down with a hard stare. 

This one lacks patience, but after months of answering the same questions with the truth and nothing but the truth, you do try to spice things up a bit every once and awhile. If only to keep yourself sharp. 

“You do realize that you’re never getting out of here if you don’t give us something, right?” She asks, and you lean back to rest against the back of the chair. 

“What do you want to know?” You ask her, if only to keep the conversation flowing. Every answer that you could have provided, you already have and they must know it too. 

“Who hired you to pick up the suitcase from the airport?”

Oh, the infamous suitcase! 

You knew that job was way too easy to be a good thing. It took you an hour to get it done. Easiest and fastest two million you’ve ever made. 

“I got a text. I told them my fee. I got a deposit and I asked where I needed to take the suitcase. I dropped the suitcase, and that was it.” You recite the same thing that you always recite, and she glares harder.

“You didn’t ask who was hiring you? Or why did they need the suitcase at that building?”

“Rule number one: Don’t ask questions that don’t concern me.” You tell her and her glare intensifies, if that’s even possible. 

“You know that doesn’t erase the fact that you’re an accomplice in a terrorist attack, right?”

That damned suitcase.

“I offer a service. I deliver packages. That’s all I do. Would you call the pizza guy that delivered in the same building before me an accomplice too?”

Her fists glow with dangerous intensity then, and in the blink of an eye you find yourself being pushed against the wall after she hits you with a blast. 

…

You wake up in your cell hours later with a massive headache and every inch of your body hurting, so you quickly close your eyes again. 

You refuse to fully wake up when you’re in this much pain.

…

The next morning you’re awoken by the sound of your door being opened, and you sit up slowly. Your hand flies to your side as a stabbing pain makes you wince when you move, and you curse under your breath. 

They’ve never laid a finger on you before, and you wonder if they’re finally about to try to beat the answers out of you, not that you have any.  

“You pissed off the Captain.” A guard shakes his head, a mocking grin on his face as he looks at you. “Aren’t you tired? Just give them what they want.”

“Are you supposed to be talking to me?” You ask him, and he shrugs his shoulders before handing you a fresh towel and a change of clothes. 

“Shower. You’re in for a new session in twenty.”

He leaves and with a lot of trouble, you do as he says.

…

The moment you enter the interrogation room you feel like you might pass out again, which reminds you of your second rule. 

Rule number two: Never fall for someone involved in the deliveries. This rule applies, of course, to the Avengers who apprehended you too. 

“You okay?” Wanda Maximoff asks, as an involuntary groan leaves your lips when you sit down. 

You kind of like it when she’s the one in charge of your interrogation for the day, but today you feel like dying and not fully up to appreciate her company.  

“Of course.” You smile, as you press your hand against your bruised ribs and you struggle to find a comfortable position to sit in. God, you feel like you’re not getting enough air into your lungs. 

“What did Carol do?” She asks you with a frown on her forehead, and you try to smile again. 

She’s attractive even when she’s frowning, which is totally unfair and completely distracting. 

“Broke a few laws, I’m sure.” You can’t breathe properly and you swallow, if only to try to mask the pain you’re currently in. 

“Does anything feel broken? Were you taken to medical?” She asks, as she stands up and you close your eyes. 

“I don’t know.” You answer and when you try to move, the pain that envelops you is so massive that you become dizzy where you sit. 

“Not even a painkiller.” You hear her murmur, before you stop fighting against so much pain and tiredness. 

You fall to the ground, the hit making the pain you were already feeling a hundred times worse. 

Wanda raises her voice and while she rushes to your side, you surrender to the darkness.   

… 

The next time you wake up, you do it in a slightier more comfortable bed than the one in your cell. 

“I didn’t even touch her!” You hear the unmistakable voice of Carol Danvers yell, and you’re tempted to huff, but you know that would only make you cry out in pain. No, she didn’t need to touch you to almost break you. 

“Her ribs are bruised. She passed out because of excruciating pain!” Wanda exclaims back, and you finally open your eyes. 

You’re in the medical-bay and your eyes immediately fall on Wanda’s furious little face. Still attractive, that one. 

“She’s a criminal,” Carol argues and you watch as Wanda’s fists begin to glow red with the midst of her powers. 

“She’s a human being and you crossed a line.” Wanda tells her, and you’re caught staring at her face again. 

She looks positively pissed, and you’re pretty sure that you’ve never seen a woman more beautiful than she is. 

“I agree,” Steve Rogers says as he walks inside the room as well. “Did you notice she’s awake?” He asks, his eyes trained on you. 

“Hey, hi.” You smile and Wanda rushes to your side, or you think that she does. 

God! You feel so woozy and nothing really hurts, and you think that maybe you’re a little bit high on painkillers. Just maybe. 

“How you feeling?” Wanda asks you and you look at her, and you can’t help but---but feel. 

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur and her eyes widen. “Really, you are.”

She blushes and her eyes show nothing but panic as she looks at Steve, who is smiling goofily before letting out a breath. 

“Painkillers?” He asks, and Wanda nods. 

“Maybe something to help her sleep?” Wanda asks the doctor in the room, and when a small smile pulls at the corners of her lips, you smile back. 

So beautiful. 

…

You wake up with a start and a sharpening pain on your side. You’re in a much different room than the last one. You’re not in your cell, and you’re not in the medical bay either. 

No, this is a much nicer room with a big fluffy bed and a huge flat screen hanging on the wall. 

You’re about to stand up when someone knocks on the door. 

“Come in,” you confusedly call out and the door opens slowly to reveal Wanda on the other side. “Hey.”

“Can I come in?” She asks and you nod, still confused. “You should be laying down. Minimal physical effort. Doctor’s orders.”

You nod, now feeling a little suspicious but you take her advice and lay down again. At least you can breathe a bit better now, and the pain isn’t as blinding as it was the last time you woke up. 

“Care to explain?” You ask, as you struggle to grab the blanket. 

“Here, let me.” She takes the blanket, and pulls it over your body before sitting down on the edge of the mattress, close to your legs. 

She’s wearing an oversized light blue sweater that makes her look all kinds of comfy and you’re caught staring at her. 

God! She really is the most adorable superhero ever. The most attractive one too. 

“What Carol did was wrong,” she says and you roll your eyes playfully. 

“I was being an ass. I shouldn’t have provoked her like that. ”

“She crossed a line. We don’t hit people in our interrogation rooms. We don’t torture prisoners. That’s not what we stand for.”

“I’ve been telling you guys the truth from the beginning. I know nothing about the packages I delivered. My lack of interest in the content of those packages is what kept me in business for so long in the first place.”

“I know,” she says it so casually that you instantly become suspicious. “We don’t make it a habit of reading people’s minds either. That being said, I did read yours yesterday when you were unconscious.”

You chuckle nervously, and immediately wince at the slight pain that it shoots through you with the action. If she was in your head---then she knows you’ve been crushing on her for a while now. 

“I only did it because an idea occurred to us and we needed to be sure that you were telling the truth, before we did anything.”

“They call you the Scarlet Witch, y’know?” You tell her, and she grins at you. 

You’re distracted, your mind is still trying to process the fact that she read your mind and she probably knows every single thing about you, and your attraction towards her.

“I know,” she softly says and your eyes stray towards her lips. God! It’s so unfair how attractive she is and how easily she can distract you with just  her face.   

“Natasha has been studying your profile,” she continues. “You do more than just deliver.”

“Natasha Romanoff?” You ask with a start, and she nods. “She’s been studying my profile?” 

Natasha Romanoff is a legend, to put it simply, but she never interrogated you. Not once.  

You’ve admired her since forever, and every single fighting stance that you’ve mastered, you’ve done it because you spent the majority of your free time studying footage of her fights caught on camera. 

“She’s impressed,” Wanda tells you. “She believes that you have potential, and so do I.”

Sometimes trouble follows you and the packages, that’s why you’re always prepared, that’s why you know how to stand you own in a fight. 

“Are you offering me a job?” You ask her jokingly but she doesn’t laugh, instead she gives you a look that leaves you breathless. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“I was a prisoner yesterday.” You remind her and she nods, an open and stupidly alluring grin tugging at her lips. 

“You don’t have to pretend with me. I’ve been in your head, remember?” She tells you, and you feel your cheeks heating up with a blush. 

“That’s a total violation, y’know?”

“It is and I’m sorry for doing it.” She apologizes, and you frown. 

She’s good. Too good. 

“So you know about my deep desire to quit the delivering world, and join the side of good?”

“I do.” She nods, perhaps amused. 

“And you also know that I’ve been crushing on you since the day we met?”

“About that,” she apologetically starts and you panic. 

“What?”

“You were really high on painkillers, and you might have exposed yourself about that in front of the Captains.”

“What?” You panic and when you rush to move, the pain shooting through you forces you to lay down again. 

“Easy,” she tells you kindly. “For now you just have to focus on getting better. Carol will drop by to apologize. For the record, she was not having a good day that day.”

“Neither were my ribs,” you tell her and she laughs. 

“There will be a meeting when you can leave this bed. A new life awaits you.”

“About the crushing thing?” You ask when she stands up to leave, and the smile she sends your way makes you smile in a daze, because she’s just so beautiful. 

“We can talk about that too when you’re feeling better.”

You’re still smiling after she’s gone. You only had two rules to do your job, and the first one might have ended up saving you from a lifetime in prison, but the second one? You never stood a chance against the second one. 

… 

Feedback is much appreciated. 

[lordkuntfuck]

Au where a drunk newly 19 year old Eddie shacks up with a girl, not long before he gets together with Shannon. 9 months later a baby shows up on his doorstep.

(I'm sorry in advance)

Not knowing what to do but not wanting to just abandon a baby, Eddie and Shannon take him in. Everything continues as is in canon (to an extent) but now with the extra layer of chris not actually being biologically Shannon's (so her story is even more heartbreaking (I love her, this is not Shannon bashing at all))

Eddie joins the 118 and meets the firefam, all is well. He can't help but think that Buck guy looks vaguely familiar but then again blond white jocks are pretty indistinguishable.

One day, a few years later, their all talking about their childhoods while on a q-word shift. Buck says something along the lines of "when I was little girl" without thinking about it.

Everyone's a little surprised but very accepting obviously.

Later after the shift, when they're alone, Buck needs to find out more on how Eddie feels about him being trans so tells him he can ask him anything. Eddie asks about like when and how he knew and stuff like that. It starts getting a bit emotional cuz of the Buckley parents and whatnot.

So to lighten the mood Buck makes a joke about being a really hot woman and he knew the world couldn't handle it so he had to transition for the sake of humanity. Eddie makes a snarky comment about how that's impossible (and quietly thinks that no way Buck could be hotter as a woman than he is as a man).

Buck takes offense (jokingly) and decides he needs to prove himself. He shows a photo to Eddie when he was 18, not long before he was able to start socially and medically transitioning (he couldn't before because of his parents). He's also not usually this nonchalant about himself pre-transition but it's Eddie and he trusts him.

Eddie's about to make another joke but as he takes a closer look at the photo, he almost drops Buck's phone. Because no fucking way.

Buck thinks Eddie's reaction is to how hot he was and makes a comment about how he knew Eddie would be drooling over him (he tries not to hurt himself too much with that thought, it was just meant to be a joke after all)

But then he realises that Eddie isn't laughing anymore and he's like having a full blown panic attack and shit what just happened.

Meanwhile Eddie's mind is slowly imploding because what the hell is he meant to do with the knowledge that not only has he already slept with Buck, did so when Buck was in a body he was massively uncomfortable with (which makes Eddie feel extremely guilty), but that there's an extremely high likelihood that he's the father of Buck's son.

Not that he isn't completely shocked by this cuz like come on despite all the years of trying and failing to not wonder who Chris's bio mom was, this scenerio certainly never crossed his mind. And yet somehow he can't say he's that surprised, the amount of time people have thought Buck was Chris's dad instead of Eddie becuase of how similar they look. It actually makes perfect sense.

And maybe he'd be more freaked out if Buck wasn't as close to Christopher as he is because seriously he's thought of that man as a second father to his son for the last however many years already, it's actually kind of a comfort to found out he literally is.

It's that though that finally calms Eddie down enough to allow him to breathe normally again.

Buck is looking at him with that look (you know the one) and Eddie kinda melts on the spot.

Now he just needs to figure out how to break the news to Buck without freaking him out so much that he'll leave again.

Cuz that's another thing, Buck didn't want that kid, except Eddie knows Buck and he knows how much he craves a family so why the fuck did he abandon Chris on his doorstep all those years ago (seriosuly is there any adult in his son's life that hasnt left him at least once, god that poor kid). Also how does Buck not know, if he knew enough to know which house to drop the kid off at, how doesn't he recognise him, he hasn't changed that much. Or maybe he does know but hasn't said anything because he doesnt want that. There are so many questions and Eddie doenst know what to do, he kinda wants to break down again but he feels too drained to even do that.

They don't end up talking about it that night, they just sit with each other until it gets late enough that Buck realises he should get going so he's not a zombie at work tomorrow. Eddie let's him leave.

Buck doesn't really get what happened that night, everything was going fine until he showed Eddie that old photo of him. He couldnt help but think that sure maybe Eddie was fine with him being trans as like a passive thing that happened to him, but when Buck forced him to see the changes he'd gone through it got too much? Eddie's pretty repressed and grew up catholic of course this was gonna be difficult for him to accept when he was probably told people like Buck where freaks of nature or somehting (obviously not all Catholics believed that but he's spiraling here)

After many many hours of self-hatred, a long long talk with Maddie (which included a lot of cuddling with his favourite niece), and a metophorical slap round the head from Chim, Hen and Bobby. Buck confronts Eddie about it.

Eddie feels like a peice of shit for making Buck think his reaction was due to transphobia, and he felt even worse when Buck tried making excuses for him.

Eddie realises he has to come clean.

Buck freaks out as expected. However it's not for any of the reasons that Eddie thought it would be.

Turns out when Buck realised he was pregnant he returned home. He hadn't been gone for long and he really didn't want to have to go back already but he couldn't do this by himself and he wasn't about to ask the random dude he'd hooked up with at a party to raise a child with him. His parents were shocked and reprimanded his behaviour but helped him through his pregnancy nevertheless. Buck suspects it was because they that this meant he would finally change his mind about being trans, but if course it didn't, leading to so many fights and leaving a very hormonal Buck in tears everytime.

Buck doesn't remeber giving birth, he doesn't even remember the drive to the hospital. All he remembers is waking up, his parents sitting by his side, Maddie nowhere to be seen (she was never told, iconic that they both ended up keeping pretty big secrets from each other involving a child). His dad looked stoic but somber, and his mom had two perfect tear tracks running down her face, her makeup left unaffected.

Immediately Buck knew something was wrong, it didn't take a genius to figure out what that something was. His parents told him the baby hadn't even taken a first breath.

Buck looked up at Eddie after finishing the tale of the worst day of his life. Eddie was red faced and crying, Buck had never told anyone else that story before, not even his therapist, he knew he looked much worse.

Eddie takes Buck's hands in his own, forcing Buck to meet his gaze, and says with as much love as humanely possible "he's alive". Buck let's out another sob, and God he sounds so wrecked. Eddie repeats himself, "he is alive, Chris is alive, our son is alive"

Before Buck can respond the phone rings, it's the hospital, Chris was in some kind of accident and he's being taken into surgery, they don't know if he's gonna make it yet.

Buck is delirious, he almost wants to laugh because he's just found out that his child that's he's thought was dead for the past 13 years is actually not only alive but the son of the literal love of his life (whos very much straight and does not reciprocate by the way), now might actually be dead. The whiplash is enough to kill a man.

Eddie has gone pale, he looks like he's about to throw up, Buck cant help but think ditto (okay he's still a bit delirious)

They race to the hospital, neither of them should be driving but they're not about to waste time waiting for an uber.

When they got to the hospital, one of the parents of another kid in Chris's class is there. She tells them she was driving them back to hers for the kids' sleepover when a drunk driver smashed into the side of the car, the side Chris happened to be on.

Hospitals are shit. Waiting rooms in hospitals are even more shit. Waiting in a waiting room in a hospital while your son is having potentially life saving surgery and no reassurance that he's going to make it is soul destroyingly shit.

Buck's mind is stuck in a loop of "his first breath was stolen from you, now his last breath mightve been too"

After what felt like a lifetime of misery, a doctor finally approaches them.

Eddie is grasping Buck's hand so tightly he thinks he might break it (hey at least he's already in a hospital his brain provides)

The harmonious sighs of relief that punch out of the two men when the doctor tells them the good news could surely be heard the next state away.

For the second time that day Eddie turns to Buck, with tears staining his face and a wobbly smile and says "he's alive"

[animationnut]

Why You Shouldn't Engage Your Sentient Pet Platypus in a Snowball Fight

For @perry-the-platypus-plumber

I am so sorry this is so late and your original Secret Santa didn't work out. I am now your Secret Santa and this is your gift fic! I hope you like it.

...

Though it was fourteen degrees Fahrenheit, and the wind was frigid and a sheet of ice blanketed every non-salted surface, sweat still dripped down Candace’s neck and back. She had done about five laps of the driveway, her shovel scraping against the frozen cement and gathering heaps of snow. Her muscles ached as she lifted the wooden handle slightly, dumping yet another pile of snow to the accumulating hill bordering the driveway.

“I hate Friday night snow storms,” she panted, leaning against the shovel. “A Saturday snow day is so useless.”

She also hated shovelling, but somehow the chore was a bit sweeter with the knowledge that the alternative was six hours of school.

As she caught her breath, she twisted her neck slightly to see how her brothers were doing. Ferb had already shovelled and swept the front and bath pathways of their property. He was on his last task, sprinkling salt over stubborn patches of ice.

Phineas was almost done with the sidewalk, clouds of white powder hanging over his head with each load of snow he slung into the front yard. With one more strip of the driveway to go, Candace rolled her throbbing shoulders back and pushed. She carefully manoeuvred around the car, the shovel rattling against the cement, the sound growing duller as more snow gathered in the blade. With a loud grunt, she tipped the snow into the waist-high pile.

“Finally!” she exclaimed.

“With this much snow, we could make a giant snow fort,” said Phineas, looking at the mounds of white crystals with gleaming eyes.

“Don’t even think about it,” growled Candace, aiming a finger at him. “By the time Mom and Dad get home, your ridiculously massive snow fort is going to magically vanish, and with my luck the snow is gonna avalanche all over this driveway. I am not shovelling again. The snow stays put.”

“Good idea. A snow fort is pretty similar to an ice chalet, anyway, and we already did that.” Phineas shook clumps of snow from his gloves. “Hmm. Maybe we could make snow mobiles made out of actual snow.”

Ferb joined his siblings, flashing a thumbs-up to indicate his chore was finished. Candace stretched, wincing at the tight knots straining in her shoulders. “Can we warm up first before you get into any shenanigans? I can’t bust you if I’m frozen solid.”

Phineas smiled. “Ooh, can we make homemade hot chocolate?”

“Only if you do the stirring.”

“Deal!”

Ferb held his index finger and thumb an inch apart, and Candace smirked. “Yeah, we’ve got tiny marshmallows.”

“Krkrkrk.”

The Flynn-Fletcher kids turned in the direction of the very familiar sound. Perry stood on the roof, leaning casually against the chimney, his fedora tilted slightly over his eyes to block the winter wind.

Phineas grinned brightly. “Hey, Perry!”

Ferb waved. Candace glared up at him. “Oh, look who shows up just as we finished shovelling. What a coincidence.”

Perry raised his right brow. He lifted his shoulders in a ‘not my fault’ motion and Candace scoffed. She crossed her arms over her chest. “You left just as Mom and Dad told us to clear off the driveway and sidewalks. You totally took your sweet time during your mission. In fact, you’re late! Did Dr. D invite you for a hot apple cider or something?”

Shaking his head, Perry knelt against the snow-covered roof and started gathering piles into his paws. With quick motions, he made crude sculptures of snowmen, Doofenshmirtz, and himself. Studying the scene, Phineas deciphered, “Dr. D made a Snowman Alive-inator and attacked you with an army of living snowman?” At Perry’s nod, Phineas said excitedly, “That’s so cool! Not using the snowmen to take over the Tri-State Area, obviously. I mean making the snowmen come to life. Ferb, I know—”

Perry chattered sharply, setting his paws on his hips as he looked sternly at Phineas. His boy rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Right. No copying Dr. D’s ideas. We’ll think of something else. Right Ferb?”

Ferb patted his brother’s back in agreement. Candace rolled her eyes. “So you had to battle an army of snowmen. You can literally punch right through them. It shouldn’t have taken you that long.”

Perry gave her a pointed look. He gestured to her, tapped his beak, and then punched one of the miniature snowmen. “It is not easier said than done,” insisted Candace. “They melt! All those gadgets O.W.C.A. gives you, and you don’t have a single flamethrower? Nope. Not buying it. I want to see your mission minutes.

“I don’t think O.W.C.A. has enough organization to draft mission minutes,” remarked Ferb, his voice muffled through his purple scarf.

Perry’s chortle was drowned out by the blast of a horn. They turned to see a snowplough barrelling down their road, pushing a massive pile of snow as it went. Candace’s jaw dropped as a wave of dirty snow cascaded over the curb, spilling onto the once-clean sidewalk, and forming a wall at the end of their driveway.

“Hey!” Candace shrieked.

Phineas patted her arm. “It’s okay, Candace. It’s just a little more work.”

“No way, we did our part. It’s Perry’s turn.” She whirled around, seizing her shovel and brandishing it the platypus. “Mom and Dad will be home soon, so you better hurry up!”

Perry reached up, his fingers flicking the dial of his translation collar. With a smirk, he said, “I’ve already done my job for the day, kiddo. Besides, that’s not exactly a platypus-sized shovel. I’ll submit a request to Monogram for one, along with a flamethrower. I’m sure he’ll love that.”

Candace was tired and cold, and beyond irritated to see Perry standing there, nearly waist-deep in snow, and not giving the slightest shiver. With narrowed eyes, she marched up to the front stoop and, with such force it made her brothers jump, she banged the blade against the bottom of the roof.

A startled chatter escaped Perry’s throat as he was suddenly carried from the rooftop by several feet of snow. He landed with a soft ploft, only to be buried a millisecond later. He hastily dug his way out, gasping and spitting out ice and snow.

“Candace, that wasn’t nice,” said Phineas with a frown, hurrying to Perry’s side and helping him from the snowdrift. “You could’ve hurt him.”

“It’s gonna take a lot more than a mini snowslide to hurt me,” Perry growled, shivering slightly as he brushed snowflakes from his fedora. “But your sister has made a very big mistake.”

Candace backed up slightly, her nerves jumping at the dangerous glint in Perry’s eyes. “What does that—”

Her vision was suddenly obstructed by a wall of white. She yelped at the ice-cold sensation seeping into her exposed cheeks and swiped at her face, her red mittens coming back covered in snow. She glowered at Perry, who shook the lingering ice crystals from his fingers, his gaze holding a silent challenge.

“Oh, it’s on!” declared Candace.

She dashed over to the haphazardly-stacked driveway snow, seizing a fistful and forming a quick snowball. When she whipped around, Perry was nowhere in sight. She scanned the frozen, white landscape, her heart pumping in her chest.

Thwack!

A snowball hit her thigh, startling her into tumbling back into the snowbank. Perry flipped seamlessly onto the top of the family minivan, a smug grin on his bill. Candace struggled to sit up, lobbing her snowball at the platypus. Perry twisted his body, the snowball sailing past his torso, not one snowflake touching his skin.

And that’s when Candace realized that Perry was indeed correct—she had made a horrible mistake in engaging her secret agent platypus pet in a snow fight.

But her pride refused to allow her to admit defeat. She would not surrender, especially not so soon into the battle. She stood up, grabbed a fistful of snow, and chucked it at Perry. He dodged it, leaping off the car and landing on the driveway. He sprinted over to the snowbank, grabbing a clump of snow and twisting on his heel. He whipped it at Candace, who lunged to the ground, grunting when her body hit the hard cement.

The snowball sailed overhead and she scrambled back to her feet. Her attention focussed on Perry just as a snowball struck him dead in the back.

Giving a startled chatter, Perry turned to see Phineas behind him, tossing a snowball up and down. “Traitor!” Perry exclaimed dramatically.

“Sorry, Perry, but we gotta even the odds,” said Phineas.

He lobbed his snowball at Perry, who flipped to avoid it, but wasn’t able to see Candace’s snowball careening straight for him. It smacked into the back of his head, causing the platypus to grunt. He slid slightly along the stray patches of snow stuck to the driveway and he set down a hand to balance himself.

“Ha! Phineas likes me more!” crowed Candace, reinvigorated now she wasn’t fighting against Perry by herself.

Perry rolled his shoulders, grinning as he flicked his gaze between his kids. “Okay. I see how it is. Give it all you got. Otherwise, you don’t stand a chance.”

Phineas and Candace circled Perry, making sure to stay on opposite ends of the platypus so his attention was diverted. For the first minute, they were able to land some solid hits, but their triumph didn’t last long. Perry quickly got a feel for their rhythm, watching Phineas intently, pinpointing by his motions where Candace was planning to throw her own snowball.

He ducked and weaved with grace and agility, using his tail to send the snowballs flying back towards Phineas and Candace. Phineas spluttered as a snowball struck his nose, and Candace hissed as a snowball smacked her in the forehead. As they continued to get battered by their own snowballs, they quickly ceased firing.

Perry crossed his arms, an amused smile on his beak at his snow-dusted kids. “Well? What now?”

Candace eased her way towards Phineas, keeping wary eyes on the observing platypus. “He’s taunting us,” she muttered. “He could totally annihilate us right now.”

“At least he’s giving us a chance,” replied Phineas lowly, lifting the collar of his coat to wipe snow from his chin. “Okay, we need to overwhelm him. Fire a bunch of snowballs at once.”

“How are we going to do that?” asked Candace in frustration. “Ask him for a five-minute break so we can make a stock of snowballs? He’s just gonna do the same thing and then we’re so toast.”

“Tick-tock,” said Perry in a sing-song tone.

There was the sudden whirring of gears, and the three turned towards the sound. They watched as the garage door slowly rolled up, rattling in its tracks, gradually revealing Ferb, who held a leaf blower in his gloved hands.

Perry blinked in bemusement. “I was wondering where you went. What are you doing with the leaf blower? And what the heck is on it?”

Ferb reached for the switch, flipped it, and Perry found himself barraged by snowballs rapid-firing from the nozzle.

Candace whooped. “Oh yeah! That’s my little brother!”

“Genius, dude!” cheered Phineas.

Ferb sidled up to his siblings. “Good distraction,” he spoke.

“Right. That’s totally what we were doing,” said Candace with a snort.

There was a power tool battery attached to the back of the leaf blower, and Ferb had rigged a funnel for loading snowballs into the machine. Candace and Phineas quickly took up the positions of stocking ammo, with Phineas forming the snowballs and Candace placing them into the funnel.

Perry scrambled across the driveway, but found that the snowballs were coming too fast for him to dodge. He was pelted left and right, knocking him every which way. He tucked and rolled beneath the car, panting for breath, a hoarse laugh rumbling from his throat.

“Well-played.”

Knowing there was no other choice but to try and rush Ferb, Perry shifted his weight from foot to foot, prepping himself for a short sprint. Mentally counting down from five, he dashed out from under the car, streaking to where the siblings were clustered at the edge of the driveway.

He was moving too quickly for Ferb to change the angle of the leaf blower. He would have been met with a full-body platypus tackle, if his sister was not equipped with superior sisterly instincts.

Seeing the teal blur hurtling straight for Ferb, Candace’s mind blared Danger! Though she knew Perry would never in his life hurt any of them, her protective instincts still activated and she seized Ferb by the waist, swinging him out of the way.

The sudden, unexpected motion caused Ferb to let go of the leaf blower in surprise. It smacked into the cement, the base of the leaf blower cracking and causing the machine to stutter to a halt. Instead of tackling Ferb, Perry charged head-first into the snowbank.

“Retreat!” Candace shouted, using her boot to push Perry’s behind, forcing the platypus further into the snowbank.

She ran down the path leading into the backyard, charging through the snow and taking cover behind the big tree. Phineas was quick to settle beside her, and Ferb joined them soon after, using a broom he had retrieved from the garage sweep snow over their footprints.

“You’re really the star of this team, bro,” said Phineas breathlessly.

“How fast can you make another snowball Nerf gun thing?” demanded Candace.

Ferb shrugged and removed his glove so his siblings could see him holding up one finger. Phineas nodded. “Yeah, Dad only has one leaf blower.”

“Come on, you guys are all about your big ideas!” said Candace frantically. “You totally can come up with something to kick Perry’s butt!”

There was the creak of the back gate opening and the three went still.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Perry’s croon made a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold run down Candace’s spine. She exchanged a panicked glance with her brothers, who were wide-eyed. They huddled against the trunk and Candace prayed Perry would see the lack of tracks and decide to look for them elsewhere.

There was silence. The wind whistled and the snow shifted. Candace’s heart pounded in her chest. No one dared to peek around the wide tree trunk.

Thwack!

The wood behind their backs vibrated and Candace didn’t even get a chance to look over her shoulder before she was doused with ice-cold snow. She was blinded by white and she thrashed her limbs in pure panic. In the next second she was plucked from the snow by the top of her hood.

She spat out snow and blinked rapidly. When her vision was clear, she was greeted with Perry gazing at her with a soft smile, his paw falling to rest on her shoulder. “You good?”

“I’m freezing,” Candace complained, her teeth starting to chatter.

“Not so easy to punch your way through snow, is it?”

He gazed at her knowingly and the pout that formed across her lips made him chuckle.

Phineas and Ferb were plopped in the snow beside Candace, having been yanked out of the snowdrift first. They were shivering and trying to shake the snow from their clothes. “That was a good one,” Phineas said.

Ferb nodded. Perry jerked his head in the direction of the house. “Go inside and get warmed up. I’ll take care of the leaf blower and finish shovelling the driveway.”

“I thought you couldn’t because we lacked a platypus-sized shovel?” countered Candace.

“The leaf blower is pretty platypus-sized, and once it’s fixed it’ll take care of the snow,” returned Perry. “Go before you catch a cold.”

The three kids wasted no time in shuffling inside the warm, cozy home. They stripped out of their wet jackets, scarves and mittens. Too exhausted to make homemade hot chocolate, Candace grabbed a box of hot chocolate powder from the cupboard and made four piping hot servings. She added generous heaps of whipped cream and marshmallows to each mug and carried them into the living room on a wooden tray.

Phineas and Ferb were already snuggled on the couch, covered in three layers of blankets. Candace set the tray of drinks on the coffee table and flopped in between her brothers. “Sorry, guys, this is all I have the energy for.”

“This is perfect,” said Phineas honestly, and Ferb rested his head against Candace’s shoulder.

Perry shuffled into the living room just as Candace put the television on a random movie channel. The light on his translator collar was off, and he gave a thumbs-up to indicate everything outside was taken care of.

“Thanks,” mumbled Candace, giving him a tiny smile.

Perry made a no-worries motion with his paw. He took a seat beside Ferb, tucking himself beneath the blankets and sighing with contentment. He grabbed one of the hot chocolates and took a long sip.

“That was really fun,” said Phineas happily.

“Yeah, but we never stood a chance,” said Candace with a sigh. Perry grinned at her, reaching over to playfully tweak her nose, and she batted away his paw. “We got in a couple good hits, though.”

Perry gestured at Ferb and Phineas nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yeah, Ferb was definitely the MVP.”

Ferb smiled proudly and Candace lightly bumped her shoulder against his. “Don’t let it blow up your ego,” she teased.

They settled against one another, Phineas and Ferb lounging against their sister, and Perry sprawling out over Ferb’s lap. They basked in the warmth and each other’s company, their toes and fingers and noses and bill thawing.

“Note to self,” spoke Candace. “Don’t ever engage your sentient secret agent pet in a snowball fight.”

[wnbawag]

Don't Let Your Intrusive Thoughts Win Part 11

Pairing: Breanna Stewart x OC!Griffin

Summary: Griffin, the 9th 2024 WNBA draft pick, was an unusual case, coming out of the University of Kentucky. You see, Griffin was short. Not just WNBA short, like short short. Like Griffin was barely 5’2. The Liberty, the team she was drafted to, loved to call her the shortest player of all time, but Griffin loved to 1. Remind them that Shannon Bobbitt was also 5’2 and 2. That she was definitely taller than Shannon. So she was the second shortest WNBA player of all time. The Liberty would roll their eyes at her, basically as one. 

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 1.7k

Note: I'm realizing now I never gave this poor child a last name. If you read these notes, send me a suggestion.

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Griffin felt herself basically trembling in anticipation the entire way back to Breanna’s apartment.

She knew she had been playing a big game with Bre, intentionally riling her up then sending a sexy picture on top of all of it, but she was suddenly hit with the reality of what she had been doing.

She had intentionally been turning Breanna on, the older woman was probably under the understandable impression they were about to go at it like rabbits.

It wasn’t that Griffin wasn’t also so horny she wanted to jump Breanna’s bones, it was that she hadn’t even kissed a girl before.

‘Fuck,’

Griffin was screwed.

Breanna hadn’t let go of her shoulder the entire ride, turning her using it all the way home.

When she finally unlocked the door and pushed Griffin in, she locked it and spun Griffin so that she was against the foyer wall with her chest pressed against Stewie’s.

That was when Breanna saw the pure panic on Griffin’s face.

“Woah okay, I don’t think we’re on the same page. Are you okay, rookie?”

Breanna seemed to be picking her words carefully, removing her hand from Griffin’s shoulder and taking a step back to give the younger girl some breathing room.

Griffin was taking deep breaths to try and squash the impending panic attack, trying to get her thoughts into words for the vet.

“I want you so bad, Stewie,” Griffin breathed out, forcing herself to meet Breanna’s confused blue eyes.

“I just, I don’t- I’m sorry, I just,” Stewie pulled the younger girl into a tight hug, reminding her of how they were in this same position not too long ago.

“Take your time, I’m not mad at you, I just want to know what’s up-”

“I can’t have sex with you tonight!”

‘That was aggressive’

Stewie froze.

Griffin kept holding her breath as Breanna slowly undid her arms from around her and took a step back, looking at Griffin through furrowed eyebrows.

“Okay? That’s fine rookie,” Breanna said slowly, seemingly confused by Griffin’s outburst.

“But I literally spent all practice messing with you and I thought it was funny but now I’m realizing that wasn’t cool and I probably just got you turned on for nothing and I’m so sorry Bre that wasn’t cool of me and-,” Griffin’s rambling was cut off by Breanna covering her mouth with her big ass hand, eyebrow cocked and smirk on full display.

“Rook, if I’m hot and bothered I am fully, fully capable of dealing with that by myself, I have two hands for a reason. You don’t need to feel bad,” Griffin found herself sporting a massive blush, both because of Stewie’s comment and the fact that she had never realized just how big Breanna’s hand was, until it was covering basically her entire face just by covering her mouth.

Breanna clocked this, still smirking, but took her hand off of her mouth, instead cupping Griffin’s jaw.

Her long fingers wrapped around to rest at the nape of Griffin’s neck.

“Nothing happens until you’re ready, I promise.” Griffin took a deep breath and smiled up at Bre, still blushing from the contact and that damn smirk.

She felt her breath hitch in her chest as Breanna leaned down until she was eye level with Griffin.

“But don’t think you’re getting away with earlier, two can play that game,”

Griffin was cooked.

—

Playing in the Mercury’s arena was way more intimidating than Griffin had expected. This was her first game back since the incident with the Aces and she was hyped to be back on the court. 

Coach subbed her in early in the first quarter, giving Fiebich and Sloot an early break while it was Griffin, Sabrina, Stewie, JJ, and Nyara on the court. 

Playing against DT was exactly what Griffin expected, she was called about every cuss word imaginable in the first 30 seconds she was on the court, and DT wasn’t even defending her.

Griffin loved it. 

After one fast break steal and an easy layup, Griffin shot right back at DT-

“I’ve already got one grandma, I don’t need to be playing against another!” Causing both the older woman and Breanna to giggle the entire way back to the Mercury’s basket.

Griffin had a great first half, as Coach had planned for her to play as much as possible so Fiebich and Sloot could finish out the second half.

At the end of the second quarter, Breanna sent her a dime, the velocity of the pass almost knocking Griffin to her back.

But she drove, not seeing any defenders, until she got rammed by the bull that was DT.

The foul was called and Griffin laid flat on her back, catching her breath that was knocked out of her before making her free throw.

“Welcome to the W, kid,” DT barked as she jogged by her.

Griffin grinned from the ground.

Yeah, this was awesome.

___

Stewie was pissed.

It was one thing that they lost, it was a whole other thing that they lost to fucking Diana. 

After a stellar first half, it was like everything fell apart. Not one of Sabrina’s threes fell, Stewie and JJ were missing layups, their whole team was out of whack and Stewie couldn’t stand it.

The worst part? She had to watch Griffin basically bounce up to DT after the game, the casual arm DT had slung around her shoulders while she nodded along to Griffin yapping about likely how excited she was to play against her. The whole time, DT was making eye contact with Breanna, arm around her girl, with an eyebrow cocked in a what are you gonna do about it look.

Stewie could kill her.

She didn’t intentionally walk ahead of Griffin back to the locker room, but it definitely happened. The entire team barely made it through the doors before Stewie was yelling because lord she was mad.

Coach Sandy just stood back and let her.

Breanna went down the list, pointing out everyone’s mistakes, including her own, and passionately telling the team ‘we are BETTER than that!’

—

Griffin had never had this intense of a feeling before.

Watching Stewie yell at the team, point out everyone’s mistakes, Griffin’s heart was beating out of her chest.

Stewie was hot when she was mad.

It went unnoticed by the team that Stewie didn’t point out Griffin’s mistakes, but Griffin noticed.

Was it intentional? She wasn’t sure.

After Breanna finished her rant, Coach Sandy took over and Breanna flopped down in a spot across the room from Griffin.

And Griffin didn’t hear a word Coach said.

Stewie was there, all spread and mad, sweat still shiny on her face and hair messy. 

All Griffin could think about was getting in between her thighs.

She had to have Stewie like, right now.

She was basically vibrating in her seat, clenching her thighs and trying to keep from staring at the taller woman.

—

The team was filtering out of the locker room, about to head back to their hotel on their bus. Griffin was being slow on purpose, seeing as Breanna was still having a quiet conversation with Coach.

Finally Coach patted Breana on the shoulder and left the locker room, telling the two women to hurry so they could leave.

Breanna was huffing still and throwing her things into her bag, face still thunderous and movements stiff.

But she noticed Griffin shuffling over to her.

Breanna spun and focused a glare at Griffin.

“Done sucking Diana’s dick?” She spat out.

While Breanna regretted saying that the moment it left her mouth, she was a little … shocked to look Griffin in the face and seeing just how dilated the rookie’s eyes were, how focused she was on her lips, the way her chest was heaving.

“Griff?-”

“Kiss me, please,”

“Griff what?!” And Griffin flung herself into Stewie’s arms, pressing flat against Breanna’s front, looking up at the vet with hooded eyes.

“Breanna I am going to combust if you don’t fucking kiss me or fuck me, it’s your choice,” 

Breanna’s eyebrows shot to her hairline and her mouth fell open at the rookie’s forwardness and general, well horniness.

“Rook, where is this coming from?” Stewie was practically holding Griffin back as she kept trying to snake her hands under Stewie’s jersey.

“You’re so mad, it’s so hot, yelling at your team like that? Manhandling me on the court? Lord Stew I will give you head right here, I don’t care I don’t know what I’m doing I swear you better like it,” Breanna caught both of Griffin’s wrists, moving them so she could hold them both in one of her big hands, causing Griffin to glare up at her.

“I’m in the middle of something here, Stewart,” 

Stewie threw her head back and barked out a laugh, the fiery rookie now looking like she was going to kill Breanna.

“I’m obsessed with you, rookie,” Breanna said, voice much softer now, her hand reaching up to cup Griffin’s jaw.

She let her thumb rub the rookie’s cheek, feeling her legs shake since Griffin was still pressed against her.

“You sure you want this, Griffin?” Breanna said in a low voice that sent shivers straight to the heat building between Griffin’s legs.

“Bre if you don’t kiss me right now, I’m getting on my knees and you can’t do anything about it,” Griffin responded in the same low voice.

Breanna chuckled, a low warm sound that filled Griffin’s chest with butterflies.

The taller woman leaned down, using that hand on Griffin’s jaw to tilt her head up.

She paused right before their lips connected, breath falling onto Griffin’s lips.

Griffin couldn’t help herself.

She went on her tiptoes and connected their lips, taking Stewie by surprise.

Breanna smiled into the kiss, released Griffin’s wrists and rested her hand on the rookie’s hips, pulling her somehow closer.

Griffin’s hands started splayed on Stewie’s abs over her shirt - she couldn’t help herself - but moved to behind Stewie’s neck, holding the taller woman to where she could reach her.

Like Stewie was going to move anytime soon.

Griffin briefly parted their lips, sucking in a sharp intake of breath when she felt her lungs scream for air. She couldn’t resist looking up and meeting Stewie’s eyes, faces still close.

“Wow,”

Breanna chuckled, rubbing her hip with her thumb, and smiling down at the rookie.

“Yeah rook, wow,”

[ladylooch]

Bones - Part 10 [Mack x David]

A/N: This wedding is so perfectly Mack and David. The location, the people, THE VOWS, the party, the softness. But mostly in the way they turn into each other during the quiet or big moments. UGH! I always love an AU wedding chapter. & this one has found it's way to the top!

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: There is a brief moment of mature content in here. Because it isn't super flushed out, I'm not putting the sticker on. But if ANY mentions of sex make you uncomfy, don't continue below.

In the center of the room, a big ceiling fan swirls lazily overhead trying to move the thick, Caribbean air in the bridal room. Beneath the fan sits Mack’s bridesmaids- Lucie, Sophie, and Livy- along with her auntie Emma, her mom, Lexi, and Savannah, her cousin’s fiancé. The group of girls gabs excitedly as the finishing touches of powder are dotted on Mack’s forehead and under eyes.

“Okay, just sit there. Let’s see how that holds up.” The make up artist murmurs.

Mack is the last one to be ready because her hair took so long to curl. Plus her make up has tried to melt off her face with each layer. Things she forgot to consider when choosing their wedding venue. Overall, nothing about getting ready is going well, including the underwhelmed feeling she had when her dress came out of the garment bag. It’s fine. Just fine. Not anything like what the perfect man down the hall deserves.

Mack looks down at her folded hands and the diamonds of her engagement ring. Soon a simple platinum band will rest next to it with her and David’s initials. Is that enough too? Overwhelmed tears begin to blur her fingers together. Ugh, great. If she cries it’s going to be another set back. She swallows hard, willing the tears to cease. A glance over her shoulder reveals the group of girls sipping mimosas and laughing. Her eyes connect with her older sister. Lucie’s smile slowly fades and she cocks her head to the side as if to ask “are you good?”

Mack slaps a smile on her face, nodding. 

“Am I done?” The bride asks the make up artist. After a through examination of her face, she nods.

“Do you want me to touch anything up?” She holds a mirror up. Despite the struggles, Mack’s make up is flawless. Natural with mauve pinks and a burgundy eye crease.

“No. I love it. Thank you.”

Mack stands, then goes to her mom to ask for help with her dress. The room quiets down and everyone watches as Mack gets into her gown. The photographer clicks as Lexi zips her daughter’s dress to the top. Lexi adjusts the straps to lay flat on Mack’s shoulders then looks at her in the massive, full length mirror in front of them.

“You are so beautiful.”

“Davey is so lucky!” Lucie murmurs, getting up and squeezing her little sister. Sophie bounces up too and soon everyone is hugging Mack, making the room feel smaller than it did before. 

“Okay.” Mack mutters uncomfortably. 

“We love you, Mackie!” Liv squeals. “Do you want some champagne?”

“Sure.” Mack agrees. Maybe some alcohol will make her feel better, or take the edge off. 

Instead, the second the alcohol hits her stomach, Mack feels like she is going to barf. Suddenly, the room is too loud- ears feeling like they’re being pierced internally at the laughter and joy. Her body starts to feel incredibly heavy, throat tightening until she can barely swallow.

“Um, can everyone just get out?” Mack blurts over the noise. Once the words are out, she realizes she yelled. All the women in the room stare at her. “Sorry… I need a minute.” She whispers, turning her back on the group.

“Yep.” Lucie immediately answers. “Everyone scoot.” 

All the girls in the room follow the Hischier girls’ commands. Lucie is the last one out. Mack looks over her shoulder at her.

“Can you get him?” Mack asks her older sister pleadingly.

“Yes.” Lucie agrees. 

When the door shuts, Mack tries to breathe but it’s like she can only pull in a third of the oxygen she needs to get through this panic attack. Her nerves have nothing to do with David. She wishes they had eloped to some mountain top or were here by themselves. She feels on display for everyone else's enjoyment and she is not having fun. This is supposed to be fun!? Instead her skin prickles from anxiety, sweat is building already in her hairline and it’s so damn humid her thighs are slick where they rub together. What was she thinking with this silk dress choice?

Mack wants to sit down, but if she does, her dress will be wrinkled the rest of the day. She wants elegant pictures of her and her dad walking down the aisle. A big crease under her hips on either side is not the aesthetic. Instead, she walks over to the various drink choices, carefully pouring herself a glass of ice water. She swallows down a few sips, then blots her lips to preserve her lip stain. 

“Mack?” She hears David call from the door. 

“Come in!”

“Am I looking or no?”

“I don’t care.” She blurts. 

The door cracks open and her big, gorgeous man steps through. The door clicks shut behind him and he stares at her from across the room without a word. His green eyes roam over her. Mack can feel them everywhere, but he doesn't say anything. She looks down at herself then back at him.

“Are you disappointed?”

“Am I… What??” He asks incredulously. His mouth drops slightly open and his eyes rapidly search hers. “Oof, you’re nervous, honey, huh?”

“Yeah. I kinda wanna throw up all over this dress because I hate it now and I loved it before but it’s so hot. I’m so hot, David. I can’t think straight. I’m so out of my element with everyone waiting hand and foot on me. You’re not here with me and I don’t like it.” David chuckles as he walks over to her. HIs hands collect her hips, rubbing circles into the soft fabric.

“First of all, the dress is a ten and you’re a fucking 20. Holy shit. You look… stunning. Like what the hell are you doing marrying me?” A relieved exhale rushes from her lips.

“Stop.” Mack’s shoulders drop about three inches, back to their normal resting position. He instantly knows how to put her at ease. She laughs, holding his chest as he steps forward to nuzzle her face with his. 

“I’m serious. Holy smokes. We better get the officiant in here right now before you change your mind.”

“I’m not changing my mind. I just really need a hug from you.”

“Then come here.” He opens his arms for her. Mack drops into his body, soaking up his sweet, happy energy that she has come to crave. Where she is a thunderstorm, he’s the sunshine after the rain. She puts her hand on his chest over his heart, then rests her cheek there to be careful of his white shirt. “Don’t worry about it.” He tells her, peeling her hand away so she can lean fully against him. “I’ve got another one if we need it. My wife is always prepared.”

“I was worried they were going to lose our luggage.” She insists.

“Honey, you have been too worried. I think that’s the problem here. All that’s happening is we are saying some words to each other, putting rings on and smooching.”

“With an audience.”

“With thirty people who love us. And are so thrilled to be here to celebrate.”

“Yeah.” She sighs. “You’re right.” She takes in a big inhale, but she is still rigid in his arms. David holds her, gently trailing his fingers over her back. He presses sweet smooches into her curled, brown hair.

“I wanna show you something.” David murmurs, rubbing her back once more before dropping his hands from her. Mack steps back, watching as his fingers go to the buttons on his dress shirt.

“A pre-vow strip tease?” She quirks, wanting to make him laugh too.

“You wish, eh?” He winks, working his way down to the last few buttons. He undoes the buttons on his cuff too. His shirt slips away and Mack sees what he has been hiding for the last week.

“Wha… wow.” She quietly exclaims. Her fingers come up and she runs them around the district, black skeletal hands. Their two hands linked together, thumbs closing together in a heart, with the words “In this life and the next” woven around a banner combining their wrists. Underneath the words is their wedding date in roman numerals. A dark wedding ring sit slumped on the bones at an angle, meant to be hers. “Good thing I didn’t run, huh?” She jokes, then drops her face as she starts to cry. Her head hits his bare chest and he wraps his arms around her again. Mack glides her hand around his bicep, covering the raised ink of his fresh tattoo.

“Been saving that spot for the love of my life.” Mack kisses his chest, following a trail up to the hallow of his throat. “I love you, Mackenzie Hischier. And today is the best day of my life.” 

“Mine too.” She grins then kisses him like he deserves after all the ways he made her feel loved since walking through that door.

Her butterflies are gone. The uneasiness has disappeared from her stomach. Mack is once again grounded in importance and her safe space. Gone is all the worries about little things they won’t remember in 50 years when they’re still married.

All that is left is him. 

“I’m feeling better.” She says. “Thank you.” Mack reaches around to grab the sleeve of his dress shirt. She helps him slide back into it then re-buttons him up except for the top two buttons. “I wanna see some of you when I walk down the aisle.” 

“You’ll be seeing a lot of me right after I get to kiss ya.” He chuckles. “Be ready to go.”

“I’m ready.” She murmurs, grabbing his hand and putting it under her dress. She’s bare. His nostrils flare. 

“Baby… I wish you wouldn’t have…” He sighs. “Actually I don’t. That’s so fucking hot knowing I’m gonna marry you this way. Don’t change a damn thing, okay?”

“Promise.” She murmurs. “Kiss me again. Then go back to whatever boys do before they get married.”

“Lio wants to do shots.”

“I will kill him.” Mack rears back. “Tell him I said that.”

“I’m kidding.” David laughs, then kisses her like she requested. “Mmm, I love you.”

“I love you.” She repeats. After another grab of her bare ass, he leaves the room, confident and secure with each heavy step he takes. Before he shuts the door, he winks at her.

Mack breathes out the breath she feels like she has been holding all day. She smoothes her skirt down. Her eyes go to the stunning turquoise water for a moment, then she goes to invite everyone back into the room. 

It isn’t long before the ceremony music floats down to the bridal suite. All the girls leave again and Nico Hischier is invited in to see his beautiful daughter.

“Sweets, you are exquisite.” He murmurs, reaching a hand out for her. He squeezes her fingers together, then pulls her in for a hug. 

“Probably never saw this day coming, huh?” Mack laughs as they step out of the suite together. Her arm threads easily through his right one. Her other arm carries her bouquet of light pink roses.

“Before David, yeah I thought that.” Nico admits.

“I think you knew he was the one before me.” Mack murmurs, adjusting the collar of his shirt as they pause before the walkway leading to the overlook where her and David will exchange their vows. 

“No. You knew before me, You were just pretending you didn’t. But he was it.” Mack bites her bottom lip, then looks up at him with identical, teary brown eyes. It’s hard to imagine them standing here for this moment without Nico’s advice in Switzerland when Mack ran home.

“He’s the best, isn’t he?” They both laugh as Nico simply nods in agreement.

Yeah, David Carlson is better than anything Nico could have dreamed for his daughter.

Soft cords of Can’t Help Falling In Love begin to play. Nico looks over at Mack who nods that she is ready. So, so ready. Mack and Nico step through the door. Everyone turns to them, but Mack doesn’t even notice. She can’t take her eyes off the man who waits at the end of the aisle. He grins at her- a mega watt smile that could power the island for the night. Tears instantly sting Mack’s eyes. She laughs incredulously, like how is this perfect moment hers? What did she do to deserve this? And can she go back and do it again?

Then, she steps forward with her dad for their most important walk. Two strides in, Mack makes the mistake of looking at her dad who has tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Wow, dad, you could have tried a little harder to keep it together.”

“I should be better at this.” He acknowledges which makes Mack laugh. The motion blinks her tears down her cheeks and she sniffs.

The walk is fast. Guests will joke for years to come that Mack pulled Nico the whole way down. But who could blame her when David looks like that waiting for her. In front of her, Mack swoons at the misty glow of David’s green eyes. He isn’t crying, but his emotional smile has her heart glowing in her chest. He reaches his hand out for Nico to shake. They do so then hug tightly. Nico looks back over at his daughter. She tilts her head and tries to keep it together as she hugs him. Then he puts her hand into David’s.

“I’m not giving her away. She’s doing that herself.” Nico states to both of them. “Exactly like I would expect Mackie to.” David and Mack laugh. Yeah, that absolutely tracks for the independent, free woman she is.

“Her choice.” David nods. Nico steps away after stating he loves them both. 

As he leads her up to the flowered arch, David checks in. 

“You okay, honey?” Mack nods as she turns to face him.

He collects both of her hands in his own, holding them securely in place even though they shake a bit in his grasp. Behind David, Connor, Cody and Trevor stand tall, hands clasped together in front of them. Connor winks at her; Mack scrunches her nose at him then looks away before he makes her laugh. In the front row, her parents sit next to Felix and his wife, Lorena. Felix hasn’t left the U.S. in all the years David has known him. It’s huge that they are here. Today, they sit in a row with two empty seats, honoring the two people David would do anything to have here with them. 

The ceremony begins with an acknowledgement to that. A brief moment of pause for reflection and recognition of the great losses of David’s life. He remains stoic and reserved during the moment. When it’s over, he squeezes her hands and smiles. He wanted to do that, but he was unsure about it too. He didn’t want to start their marriage feeling sad at what he lost when he is gaining an entire family.

Mack and David didn’t want much fan fair in their ceremony, but they knew for sure they wanted to write vows for each other. Mack goes first. She takes in a deep breath, then looks up at him with a smirk.

“For the record, you should know I still hate you.” Everyone laughs. David nods his head, grin stretching his cheeks so wide it looks like it hurts.

“Fair.”

Mack chuckles, then continues.

“I hate how easy you make it to love you. I hate how perfect you are. I hate how much my family is obsessed with you. I hate how you brought me to Iowa and somehow made me love living on a farm? I hate how you know exactly what I am feeling when I wanna hide it all from you. But if you didn’t know, we probably wouldn’t be here.” Mack pauses there. She swallows then takes in another breath.

”You are everything I’ve ever needed. Everything I never wanted to have. But mostly because I never thought I would find something like this. I’ve been called complicated or difficult or aloof my entire life, but you’ve never made me feel that way. You've taken me exactly as I am, flaws and all, and have loved me hard, especially on the days when I didn’t want you to, then extra hard on the days I didn’t deserve it.”

David frowns at that, not liking the putdown on herself, exactly like she thought.

“Because in your eyes, I’m perfect. Nothing to fix, nothing to change. Only different parts that make me more loveable. I see myself that way now. Your love has healed parts of me I thought would never be whole.”

Now he smiles again. 

“I’ve been all over the world to tell stories. I’ve seen love in just about any place on this planet that it can exist. Sometimes it’s self-less, sometimes its hard decisions, sometimes it’s too painful to put into words, but it is always present. It used to make me ache to write these love stories out. But now I see us in every one of them. In the way love sacrifices. In the way it never fully goes away, no matter the distance. And especially in the way it forgives, vowing to be better every day.”

“So that’s my vow to you. To be self-less. To sacrifice for us. To love you in the moments you really need it, but also on the mundane Tuesday mornings. And to never stop leaning into us. So we grow and get better every day.”

“I can’t wait to ride this life out to the finish line with you. I’m so excited for this next chapter for us. I love you. Now and in the next lifetime.” She grabs his bicep where she now knows their tattoo sits, then lets her hand fall back to lace with his fingers. 

David stares at her in awe for several seconds. Then he sighs happily as the officiant hands him is vows. 

“I love you, baby.” He murmurs only to her. “Thank you for that.” 

Mack squeezes his hand then does her best to prepare for what he wants to say to her. 

“I have to say writing vows for a writer is really hard and I almost paid Livy to do it for me.” Again, everyone laughs. “Um, but the reality is that I love you so much, it’s difficult to put words together to describe it, honey. I kept telling myself when I was struggling with this that one day, 10, 20, 30 years from now, I’ll have found the words for you, but I don’t know. Because I find something new to love about you every day. If I’ve got 30 years of that, it’ll take another 30 just for me to get it all out to ya.”

"But that’s my favorite part of all this, how much time we have together. How many more memories we get to make, me and you, that will fill a lifetime of love and joy for each other.” He starts shaking his head. “And I know, that still won’t be enough for me. Instead, I’ll have to find you in the next life, honey. And I’ll love you all over again for the rest of that one too.” Mack whimpers as he folds the paper up. Short, but extraordinary as is David's way.

“I hate how good you are at writing vows even when you think you suck.” She slaps his jacket with her vows. She gestures to him at their wedding guests who clap and laugh loudly. “What the hell…” She mutters just to him. 

“You make me better.” He says simply.

That one sentence could have been both of their vows.

During the rest of the ceremony, David is holding her hand, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. He squeezes her fingers every so often, then kisses her rings as he slips her band on her finger. They may be getting married in front of other people, but truly Mack feels like they are the only ones here. 

When the rings are secured, David pulls Mack close.

“We’re done, yeah?” David asks the officiant, not looking away from his new wife.

“Sure.” The officiant nods. “Go ahead.”

Mack goes up on her tip toes, cupping David’s cheeks as their tongues meet first. It’s a hot, deep, knee weakening kiss that has Mack softening into his chest. David lifts her up. Mack’s knees curl as she laughs into their kiss. 

“My wife.” David murmurs.

“Yours. Mine. Forever.” She agrees, kissing him with each word. David sets her back on her heels. They turn to their guests and smile. Everyone claps and cheers, but Mack and David have their eyes set on the doors leading back into the venue. Mack discards her bouquet on an outside table. When they get inside then their focus is on the hallway, then the bridal suite.

Five minutes into their marriage, David buries himself deep into Mack’s core. He works her up into a feverish rush of desire then shoves her off the cliff into a white hot orgasm that feels different than any one she’s had before. Because this time it’s her husband who fills her up right after. Mack kisses all over his face- lips, jaw, mustache- as he puts her legs back down on the ground.

“So much better as my wife.” He wiggles his black eyebrows at her. Mack can’t stop grinning. Her cheeks already hurt from all the love and smiles she’s had today. But then David leans down and kisses her dimples, clearing all the discomfort away. “I love you.”

“I love you.” She agrees.

Then they walk hand in hand back to where everyone waits for them.

The second Mack and David are visible in the reception doorway, Connor starts yelling.

“My brother!!!!!!!” 

“Oh my god.” Mack laughs as Connor comes sliding over in his dress shoes. David releases her hand and runs towards his D partner.

“Brother!!!” David yells, picking Connor up. They both shake each other around, two big bodies moving awkwardly through the air as they try to express their excitement. 

“You two are such idiots.” Lucie teases. “Congrats, Mackie. I’m so happy for you.” Lucie rubs Mack’s shoulder as she pulls her in for a hug. 

“Thanks, Luc.” 

Her parents are next, followed by her little sister. Then she accepts hugs from the Meiers and of course, Felix and Lorena.

“Mrs. Mackenize.” Felix greets. Mack giggles at the name change. “Good choice keeping your last name. His sucks.” He jerks his hand at David.

“Bet it looks pretty good on your checks, old man.” David grins at Felix, all love for the older man.

“Yes! It goes!” Lorena slaps Felix’s chest. “Thank you both so much for having us here. This is a dream vacation, but we are honored to be here to celebrate your love.”

David and Mack paid their entire way as a thank you for everything the two of them do on the farm, especially while they are in New York for the season. This is the least they could do. Lorena had been telling Mack she couldn’t remember the last vacation they went on. Mack knew what they were going to do instantly. They’re all set up to continue their relaxation for another week, even after the NHL families head back home.

Next are Nico and Lexi who both hold their daughter together.

“We love you. And David is right, you are perfect.” Lexi assures her. “Nothing to change.” Mack blinks two tears down her cheeks. Her parents have never made her feel this way. It’s all been internal turmoil, but just like David, they’ve found ways to soothe and heal her over the years too.

“Thank you.” She whispers then lets them move on to her husband. 

Sophie rushes over, collapsing into Mack’s arms and sighing happily.

“I love you, Mackie! I’m so happy for you.” Sophie looks at her with stunning green eyes, framed by long lashes that make her look innocent and younger than her age. To Mack, she’ll always be five years old, needing help into her Kindergarten classroom. “Let’s drink! Luc!” Sophie calls their other sister over. “Livy! Sav! All the guuuuurls!”

The group of women wanders up to the bar together. They all get glasses of champagne. Then the DJ puts on an absolute banger and they all run away to the dance floor without Mack, who backs out of Sophie’s grip.

“Give me a minute.” She chuckles. 

“ONE!” Sophie yells back then bops her way to the dance floor and immediately starts to drop it low. 

Mack takes a sip of her champagne, then a hand grabs her elbow. She grins, hugging her uncle Timo. 

“My little bully is all grown up. Congratulations, Mack. I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you.” Mack hugs him harder. 

“Save me a dance?”

“Always.” She nods, then watches him walk off, handing a glass of champagne to his wife. Mack smiles to herself as they kiss. She’s lucky to have had incredible examples of marriages that last with hard work and two people who try. She hopes her and David can continue to replicate this in their own way.

Mack drifts her gaze across the event, trying to stay present in this moment. This day has been the best one of her life; she meant it when she told David that earlier. It’s the people who are here and the man that she just married and the ocean breeze that blows her curls around her face. She didn’t know it could be this good. 

All she wants for the rest of her life is to keep this. 

All of it.

David’s hand slides around her waist. She does the same to him, resting her head against his chest. They don’t share any words as they watch the part around them.

There are none left to say.

All they can do is soak it all in.

Read more Mack and David here.

[s-awturn]

Moon Spell || CS55

summary: They were fated to love someone they hated. There was no spell, no grudge, no curse that could break the bond that united them, doomed to die in the feelings they fiercely nurtured. The Moon had determined it and there was nothing they could do to stop it.

“These violent pleasures have violent ends, and die in their triumph, like fire and gunpowder, which, when they kiss, consume each other. The sweetest honey is disgusting in its own sweetness, and its taste confuses the palate.”

cw: Violence, conflict, soulmates, blood, magic, alternate universe, obscenity, pure filth, chaos, fighting, swearing, intense hatred, love, mention of death, blood.

a/n: I'm excited about this story because I love werewolves and witches so I can't stop reading it. This will be the last one posted until I update Underworld Sun, because I've been owing this update for a few days.

starring: werewolf!Carlos x witch!Fem reader

1. we were born to die;

Part Two: Monsters

One misstep, you're mine And you better stay clever if you wanna survive

Her breath caught in her chest as she saw the massive beast emerging from the bushes, its fangs as big as the blade of her dagger, its eyes gleaming like molten gold and stared at him with nothing but murderous fury. Being the first night of the full moon, Y/N could feel the deep magic of lycanthropy within him, vibrating the beast's solid muscles and teasing his senses, making it tastier prey than any animal in the forest.

It was a bad day to be with your magic so weak.

The werewolf began to surround her and Y/N did the same, she couldn't give him a chance to attack from behind, dying wasn't in her plans. Whether from angry villagers or from that hungry werewolf. Her eyes remained glued to the massive creature in front of her, she couldn't take her eyes off the wolf's dangerous fangs; her fingers pressed the dagger and she took a deep breath, asking for wisdom and strength to get out of that situation.

“I’m not going to die tonight, beast, so I hope you don’t mind when I use your fur as a blanket,” she said. Y/N knew how to poke a mindless beast with twice her strength and huge teeth were dangerous, but she had never been a sensible witch, and now was not the time to start being one.

The moon shone even brighter in the sky and an ancient shiver ran down her spine. At that moment, the wind carried whispers in an ancient voice to her. Whispers that she didn't like to hear and Before she could think, her magic core was gone and her body lost its strength. She fainted, dropping her dagger, dropping her bag; the black kitten purred, ignoring the werewolf standing there, much more concerned about his owner. Spix pressed his feline snout to the witch's face, waiting for her to wake up.

Trapped in her subconscious, Y/N looked around, recognizing the tiny kitchen of the cottage she shared with her parents, the smell of her mother's familiar herbal tea made the girl whimper. She missed her mother so much, her advice and love, and that smell made things less unbearable to deal with.

She heard light, rhythmic footsteps and saw her mother enter the room, wearing the raw cotton dress and white stone necklace, so characteristic that they made her eyes burn.

“Would you like some tea, dear? You look hungry,” she heard her mother say. “The rye bread is fresh, have a piece, will you?”

"Mommy?” She spoke softly, approaching fearfully and touching the woman's face, and when she felt the soft texture of the older woman's cheek, Y/N finally gave in to tears. “I missed you, mommy!”

The older one hugged her before Y/N fell to her knees on the floor, the younger witch felt herself being dragged to a chair.

“I missed you too my little sunshine, don't cry anymore, your dad and I are fine, glad you're safe”

“This is so unfair, you didn't deserve to die like this, I w-wanted to help...” she sobbed, her face hidden in her mother's shoulder.

“Shhhh it's okay, there's nothing you could do dear, and I honestly don't regret saving your life, I didn't give birth to you to watch you die, dear, stop crying over things that are beyond your reach,” she said, making the girl look at her and wiped her tears. “Let's not waste this precious time we have with complaints and tears, I need to tell you something... Something important that will change your future”

The young witch's still tearful face contorted in confusion and she saw her mother smile, stroking her damp cheeks.

“W-what do you mean?”

Y/N saw her mother sigh loudly “After tonight, nothing will be the same, my love, it's time to stop the killing between our people and the lycanthropes”

“M-Me?” she laughed in disbelief “I can barely keep my magic core stable, how can I stop something that has been going on for centuries?!”

“You young people are so impatient, let me explain, we don’t have much time, so be quiet,” her mother scolded. “There are few things in the world that are truly unbreakable, the bond of partnership between a werewolf and his destined one is one of those things and you are on the other end of the cord, my dear.”

S/N stood up, her mother couldn't be serious, it could only be a joke in bad taste.

“I can’t mate with a werewolf! I’m a witch.”

“But you are, and that will change the history of our people, S/N,” the older witch said seriously. “We are being persecuted and killed by madmen who use the name of God to justify their sins” She paused for a few seconds, reinforcing her speech “We cannot protect ourselves on both fronts, my little sun, we need to choose our battles and it is time to stop fighting with the wolves”

“But why me?! I’m not the best option to negotiate peace in a thousand-year-old war!”

“But you will, I can't give you any more details, I know you will do the right thing, just follow your heart, it always knows the right direction” the woman said, getting up to get some tea.

“Then I will have to kill him, because that is where my heart is going.”

Y/N grumbled in disbelief. As if her life wasn't already busy enough.

“Don’t be petulant, girl, and accept the goddess’s designs, she knows what she’s doing and I know you’ll be happy.”

Y/N sighed, feeling like she was waking up, so her time with her mother was close to ending.

“I don’t want to say goodbye, take me with you”

“I would never do that to you, my love... You have a beautiful life ahead of you and I know you will be happy, trust me, okay?”

The little witch sniffed and nodded.

“You are never alone, and live your life the best way you can, your father and I love you, dear.” Y/N felt a kiss on her forehead and saw everything fade before her eyes.

— ☽ —

The werewolf watched the witch fall to the ground unconscious. It was a strange thing, because he hadn't even intended to attack her—yet. In other times he would have taken advantage and satisfied his hunger, but his instincts told him otherwise. The werewolf approached slowly, but stopped when he saw the cat bristle and growl in his direction. That cat was a totem linked to the unconscious witch, and if he tried to attack her, he would probably have to deal with that stupid cat.

The wolf licked his teeth, he couldn't kill the witch, but he couldn't retreat either, his paws kept moving forward even though the cat was ready to scratch his snout. The moon grew brighter and a bit of rationality came to the werewolf's mind, the creature poked the witch's cheek, receiving no response.

As delicately as he could, he gathered the belongings that had fallen out of the bag with his nose and teeth and thought of a way to put it on his back. The cat watched the whole process and He gave a meow that, to the werewolf's ears, sounded like mockery, and before he could grab the kitten, the werewolf saw the cat digging in the ground near the witch and understood what the little animal wanted. Within minutes a large hole next to the witch's unconscious body was opened, the werewolf entered the hole and pulled the witch by the cape with his teeth, making her fall onto her back. With the girl unconscious, the wolf jumped until he was out of the hole, being careful not to knock her over and shouted carefully, being closely followed by the black cat, the moonlight flickered slightly before hiding behind a cloud.

The werewolf kept his pace short until he reached his small village, only children, some pregnant women and elderly people were present, all the rest spread out into the forest to hunt and give in to instincts. He entered the furthest cabin from the village, and laid the witch on the bed, she remained unconscious and he left, leaving the cat at the door. He wasn't happy about having a witch so close to his people, but his instincts screamed to catch her and keep her close.

He left the unconscious witch there and ran back into the woods, he needed to eat and he needed to stay away from her, or he would end up killing the girl and something in his bones told him to keep her alive.

— ☽ —

The sun was rising when she finally woke up. She knew that experiences like this were possible, but she never expected to experience one in person. Y/N she felt the fluffy weight on her abdomen and ran her fingers through Spix's silky fur, the kitten purred, rubbing his little face against her hand, clearly relieved that she had woken up; Y/N blinked slowly, catching glimpses of a wooden and straw roof above her, only to snap up, she was no longer in the forest, she was in an unfamiliar cabin. Alone with her cat.

She looked around, finding her things thrown in a corner, stained with diluted blood.

“By the grace of the Goddess, what happened last night?” she muttered to herself, looking at her things, the candles were broken, but the rest seemed intact thankfully. None of her grimoires had been lost. Little by little, memories of last night came back to her mind, the escape from her home, the search for shelter in the woods, the werewolf in her path and the strange conversation with her mother... Y/N rubbed the back of her neck, feeling strangely tired, even though she slept through the night. She looked around, trying to figure out where she was, but nothing gave away who the cabin belonged to or who had brought her there. but if Spix was cool with it, it must be a good sign.

She avoided thinking as much as she could about the conversation with her mother as she rummaged through her belongings in the cabin, she could never be a werewolf's mate. They had been enemy races for so many years that she didn't even know the reason for the enmity, and she didn't even mention that her insides were turning over at the idea, no, her mother was delirious. She was sure of it.

She found some still-good bread and a canteen of beer, it wasn't the best breakfast, but she was starving and couldn't afford to refuse food; S/N devoured the bread in three bites and She downed her beer in one gulp. Maybe now she could leave, pretending her mother hadn't said anything as absurd as that. It would never work, she was a witch, that bond was unnatural, it couldn't happen.

Quickly, she gathered her things and picked up Spix, but the cat jumped off her lap and remained on the bed.

“Let’s go, Spix, we don’t know whose house this is, we’re not going to stay to find out” she said as she reached out her hands to grab the feline, but Spix jumped away, making Y/N frown in confusion. “Now, don’t be like that, Spix! I know this bed is comfortable, but we’re not staying here! It’s dangerous!”

The kitten meowed in protest and Y/N asked the heavens for patience, or she would take the cat by the tail. “Come on Spix, I'm in charge!”

She couldn't be ignored any more than that, the black cat raised his own magic and became invisible, making Y/N curse. Y/N felt around on the bed, finding the cat among the woolen blankets and before it could get loose, she put it in the leather bag and ran out of the cabin, she couldn't stay there, he didn't know who might arrive and he wouldn't risk himself like that and it wouldn't be a cat that would dictate her actions.

As morning arrived, Carlos breathed a sigh of relief when the beast allowed him to control his body again, he had few memories of last night, but he knew there was a girl lying in his bed, a girl who was probably his companion.

A witch.

He could feel her scent impregnated on his body, it was a cruel joke of fate, the Moon could not unite him with a witch. It was absurd that he wanted to laugh, as if his life wasn't troubled enough, he still had to deal with a damn witch in his house, a witch who was his predestined. He was on his way home when the scent of lavender and lemon reached his nose and it wasn't long before he heard quick footsteps breaking branches on the ground. Before he could understand, Carlos ran in the direction of the scent, his body transforming mid-run, he could see the witch's thick cloak fluttering in the air as she walked away; It wasn't as if the little witch could run faster than him and in a short time, Carlos was just a few meters away from her. His muscles tensed and he leapt at her, knocking her to the muddy ground until they ended up rolling down a local ravine. She screamed in fright, trying to pull away from him, but she was trapped between him and the ground.

Carlos growled, holding the witch under his body, was she leaving? How dare she?!

She began to punch and kick the wolf above her, but he growled, leaving his teeth exposed, making the smaller girl retreat as far as she could on the ground.

“Get off me, help! Help, someone help me!” she screamed, but all she heard was the birds squawking and the trees crashing against each other. The werewolf got off her and grabbed the witch's ankle, dragging her back to the cabin. "Let go of me!" she tried to kick the creature, but it sank its teeth into her skin, making her scream.

Behind them, Spix trotted along leisurely, dragging his leather bag carefully as he followed.

Carlos wondered if it was really the right thing to drag that witch back to his house, she was a witch, she could kill his entire family, he gave up.He didn't understand why the Moon had chosen a witch to be her companion, this couldn't be serious, it had to be a joke.

She kept struggling and kicking, trying to get free, which made Carlos grunt with laughter, her efforts were laughable and it was clear she didn't have enough magic to break free, otherwise he would have already been thrown against a tree.

It wasn't enough to be a witch, she was also useless.

As soon as they arrived at the cabin, Carlos let go of her ankle and walked around the house, the girl didn't need to see him naked, he transformed and picked up a pair of pants hanging on the clothesline next door, listening to her whine about the bruises on her ankle. When he came back inside, the witch was rubbing her ankle, muttering a strange chant that he didn't understand.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you had stayed here until I got back,” he said, surprising the girl, the witch screamed in fright, throwing a broken candle at him, which he dodged without any further problems.

“I have no reason to stay here!” she scolded, trying to stand, ignoring her sore ankle.

“You have nowhere to go, girl, or you wouldn’t be running through the woods in the middle of the night.” He landed a wound on the witch, who took a deep breath, trying not to think about what she had lost in such a short time.

“That’s none of your business, mutt,” she retorted rudely and Carlos clenched his jaw, irritated by the insult.

“That became my business from the moment you became my companion!”

“I AM NOT YOUR MATE!” she screamed and the rafters of the hut shook, her magic gradually returning.

Carlos looked at her even more stressed, this really shouldn't be happening, he should be connected to a wolf from his pack, following the natural course of things. But no, he was there, destined for a witch.

"You can scream all you want, little witch, you are my companion, whether you like it or not, and you will stay here.”

“Never! I’d rather die!” She marched towards him so determinedly that she didn't even groan in pain and stared at him without fear. “You'll have to tie me up!”

He tilted his head back, laughing deeply at the girl in front of him. “That’s not a problem, little witch, I’m very good with ropes.”

She screamed in anger and backed away from him, feeling her body tremble, abruptly her magical core had completely restored itself and she refused to believe that this was due to the bond with the werewolf.

“Even though I haven’t marked you yet, we’re united, little witch,” he said mockingly, “there’s no way you can leave here, because listen carefully...” he approached her, feeling the angry vibration that the witch emanated so strongly. “I don't care if our races have hated each other for centuries, I don't care if you want to disembowel me now, the Moon has decided that you would be mine, and that's what you are from now on, so don't even think about running away from me, witch, because I'll hunt you down to the end of the world”

Neither of them even realized that they were inches away from each other, Carlos only noticed when the scent of lavender and lemon disoriented his senses.

“There’s no point in running away, you’re mine now and you’re going to stay here”

“I don’t belong to anyone! Much less to a mutt like you!”

In one quick movement, Carlos wrapped his arms around the witch's throat and they both fell onto the bed.

“Don’t call me a mutt, you filthy little witch.”

He felt her swallow hard and take a deep breath, struggling to get away from him, but Carlos pressed harder on the girl's throat, seeing her choke a little, but that didn't last long, because he was thrown against the wall, knocking over some shelves.

“I’ll kill you!” they shouted together.

#taglist: @barcelonaloverf1life

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO S-AWTURN™ 🪐. I do not allow copying or republication. Any unauthorized publication will be reported.

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[its-luna-noel]

pirouettes & the ghost of harman street | gojo x reader

04. falling in love is like pirouettes

"Baby, I'm hurt so bad by you I also think about how nice it'd be, to fall in love again I won't expect the same" ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ Satoru Gojo lost his best friend, his partner, his other half. He's terrified when another friend falls for him. He can’t let this time be like the last.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, f!reader, eventual smut, friends to lovers, past satosugu, drinking, partying, brief non-con & past non-con trauma, depression, past suic!de, grief/loss, panic attacks, some dark themes but i promise this is a comfort fic

word count: 3.0k

chapter: 4/10 prev. chapter | next chapter

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: hi, content warnings for the following chapter: brief implied past non-con, take care & hope you enjoy xx

The orchestra is already starting to tune as Satoru and Shoko hurry into the theater.

“There you guys are,” Utahime scolded in a whisper from her seat. “What the hell?”

“Sorry,” Shoko whispered back, shoving her coat off her shoulders before sitting down beside Nanami, “we got stuck in traffic.”

Satoru pulls off his scarf and jacket, draping them over the back of his seat. Then he sits beside Shoko, grimacing as the tight theater rows cramp his long legs. He doesn’t have long to lament the situation before the lights start to dim, and everyone’s attention is brought to the stage as the music begins, the iconic melody of The Nutcracker overture floating sonorously over the crowd.

Then the curtains open, and the show begins.

Satoru settles into his seat. He’s not necessarily a massive fan of ballets, but he and the others would do anything to support you, the only one of them who would rather dance than punch things. You came to every match you could, so it was only fair to return the favor.

Your young students, tiny children who are experiencing their first major performance, are part of the first few scenes on the sidelines. The group catches glimpses of you in the background of scenes, but it isn’t until the second act, in the Land of Sweets, that you make your own appearance on the main stage.

Satoru’s breath catches in his throat; you look beautiful.

Dressed as one of the Spanish dancers, you’re a vision moving gracefully across the stage to meet your partner at the center. Every movement of your body, even that of your hands, is lithe and light, like you’re floating on air. You and your partner mirror each other beautifully, perfectly, and he’s just as graceful as you are, and Satoru can’t help but watch, enraptured, as you move together. The others are just as captivated; he can feel them hold their breaths, watching your every leap and spin with the attention of four people who’d only ever known the strength in fighting, in taking out aggression. But this strength, the strength it takes to make this dance look so effortless, is another feat entirely.

Then your partner’s hand comes to your waist as you spin around each other once, and Satoru can’t fight the flash of irrational protectiveness he feels at the sight.

Hey, he pouts to himself, fighting the urge to sulk in his seat, that’s my princess.

But he can’t linger on this foolish jealousy for long, as you and your partner both hold your final poses, backs delicately and passionately arched. He can see your chest heaving as you breathe, the only sign that any of what you just did took any effort at all.

He and the others cheer loudly as you bow; he can see your smile brighten just a little as their voices ring out over the crowd, calling your name. Then you float your way off stage, and Satoru waits with bated breath until your next appearance.

Every glimpse he gets of you, he drinks in like he’s parched.

Then, at the end of the performance when you come out to bow, Satoru nudges Shoko. The four of you stand, giving you your own personal standing ovation as they cheer, whistle, and cry your name.

You smile out at the crowd; you can’t see past the blinding stage lights, but you can hear their shouts, and it makes your heart feel full.

You follow your fellow dancers backstage, chatting and laughing as you change out of your costume and into a pair of sweatpants and the jacket with your dance studio’s name printed on the back. Then you make your way through the milling crowds, looking around for your friends.

It’s easy to spot Satoru’s white hair above the crowd.

A grin splits across your face, and you wave as you part the seas of people and push your way through.

Utahime cries your name and wraps you in a tight hug when she sees you. “You were so good!” she praises in your ear.

You laugh and hug her back, smiling at the others. “Thank you for coming,” you say as she pulls away.

Nanami hands you a bouquet, and even though you giggle and tell them that they didn’t need to do that, Satoru can tell you’re pleased.

You’re practically beaming, and it’s infectious, rubbing off on the rest of the group until they’re all smiling and laughing, too. They follow you around as you mill through the crowd, congratulating your fellow dancers and meeting other members of the audience.

Some of your students bound happily over to you, dragging their parents to come say hello. And you just laugh, giving hugs to the small children and shaking hands with parents, your smile equally professional and warm.

But the sound of your laughter never changes – bright, joyful, genuine.

“They did great,” you say over and over again, patting heads as the children giggle and swarm around you.

Then a familiar young man came over, all smiles, and Satoru recognized him as your dance partner from the Spanish dance. He’s a handsome guy, muscular with a good smile, and Satoru can’t help but narrow his eyes a little when he comes over to introduce himself.

He holds out a hand to Shoko first, flashing a charming smile. Satoru doesn’t bother to listen for his name when he turns to shake his hand in turn.

“You’ve got a special girl here,” he says, nudging you playfully with his elbow.

You meet Shoko’s eyes, beaming. Satoru just grumbles silently to himself.

When the dancer finally excuses himself and walks away, Satoru puts an arm around your shoulders, grinning down at you. “Come on, princess. We’re taking you to dinner. Then we’re going out.”

You look down at your outfit, then look back up with an inquisitive look. It definitely is not a clubbing outfit, and at your look, Satoru just laughs.

Utahime smiles and brandishes her large tote bag. “We brought you clothes,” she says. “Now, let’s go!”

You can’t help but laugh. “Alright, fine. Who am I riding with?”

Shoko grabs your hand. “Satoru and me!” Then the two of you start walking without another word, giggling amongst yourself as Satoru waves at Utahime and Nanami and starts to follow you. He rolls his eyes, assuming you’re talking about your dance partner. He tries to push away the incessant jealousy in his chest.

You climb into the backseat of Shoko’s car, rifling through the bag Utahime packed you. “Satoru, don’t look,” you warn as the car pulls out of the parking lot, and then you pull your shirt over your head.

Satoru playfully rolls his eyes again, but he has to look out the window to hide the soft flush on his cheeks as he hears your clothes rustling as you take them off and put on the clothes the girls packed for you. “You’re pretty bossy tonight,” he chides, proud that his voice is still even, despite his imagination starting to drift towards what you look like in the backseat right now.

You bundle up your sweatpants and throw them at him, laughing.

Shoko tosses a glare over her shoulder. “Don’t throw things towards the driver!” she says.

“Sorry, mom,” you tease, leaning between the front seats to insert yourself between them. “What are we having for dinner?”

“Ramen.”

You hum in appreciation, sinking back into your seat. “Thanks for doing this, guys. You know you didn’t have to.”

Shoko tuts and rolls her eyes, her hair fluttering around her shoulders as she shakes her head. “As if we’d let you just go home after a performance like that! You deserve to be celebrated.”

Satoru glances back and grins in agreement.

You just smile and look out the window, overcome with affection.

Shoko parks at your favorite ramen place, and Nanami pulls into the spot right next to her.

Satoru playfully flips him and Utahime off through his window, snickering.

You shake your head, smirking as you step out of the car.

Satoru’s eyes catch on you as you shut the door behind you, roving over the outfit the girls brought for you. It’s perfect, they know exactly what works for you, and he can’t help but watch you as you all file inside the restaurant.

He tries to keep it respectful.

The five of you are led to a table, and you take a seat beside Utahime, handing her back the tote bag she’d packed for you. She takes it and hooks it on the back of her chair.

After you all order, Shoko puts her chin in her hand and looks around. “What are your plans for Christmas?” she asks.

All four of you shrug noncommittally at the same time; none of you had specific plans, because none of you still talk to your families. It’s one of the reasons all of you got so close, because you all could bond over the shitty circumstances that were handed to you by life.

Having expected this answer, Shoko says, “We should do something.”

You bat Satoru’s hand when he tries to steal a bite of your kani salad. “Like what?” you ask.

“I dunno. Something fun.”

“We could build a gingerbread house,” supplies Utahime.

“BO-Ring!” Satoru responds with a grin, and you have to smack his hand away from your plate again.

Utahime rises to the bait and elbows him violently in the ribs.

“We could bake cookies,” Nanami says.

“And watch Christmas movies!” you add.

The rest of dinner is spent planning your Christmas celebration, laughs and eye rolls shared across the table. Then, when you’re all finished with your meal, you finish off your sake and walk down the street to the bars.

Music is already starting to play.

You’re early enough that there’s no cover charge, so all of you walk right in and head straight to the bar, ordering your drinks and a round of shots for each of you. Satoru gathers you round, grinning, and holds up his shot glass.

“To the princess,” he says, winking at you, “for a wonderful performance tonight.”

The five of you clink your glasses on the countertop, then shoot your drinks back.

You and Shoko bring your drinks to the nearly empty dance floor, starting to move to the music while Satoru, Nanami, and Utahime order another round of shots for themselves. She grins at you.

“Are you gonna meet somebody tonight,” she begins to ask, her voice teasing, “or is there only one person you’re dancing with today?”

You roll your eyes, smiling at her playful question. “You know he and I are coworkers, right? That sort of thing is kind of messy.”

She shakes her head at you, exasperated. “You’re impossible,” she tells you, not for the first time.

The others eventually join you on the dance floor, and the five of you have fun with each other until you start branching off, one by one, seeking to meet people, mingle, find someone to spend the night with. You watch Satoru move from one group of girls to another, whispering in ears and flashing smiles at them, and you don’t understand the sudden tightness in your gut as you watch him.

You, almost stubbornly, stay put, the homing beacon for the others when they want a break from their conquests.

Satoru notices that you’re still nursing the same drink from the beginning of the night, your eyes sharp and clear from across the room. And just like that first night when you met – and like many nights since then – he has the urge to loosen you up, to make sure you’re having fun, to pour drink into you until you lose your inhibitions.

So he walks over to you and wraps an arm around your shoulders, leaning close to be heard over the loud music. “Need another drink, princess?”

You shake your head with a smile, brandishing the glass you’re holding. The ice has melted, and he’s sure it tastes like watered-down garbage. “I’m alright.”

“C’mon,” he encourages, tugging lightly on your shoulders to bring you towards the bar. “I’ll buy you whatever fruity bullshit you like. My treat.”

“Satoru,” you sigh, falling in step as he walks you forward, “I’m really fine.”

“You always do this,” he says, and he means it as an observation, not as an accusation. “You need me to get you a little drunk, huh? Need to get past this hurdle?”

You scowl up at him and abruptly push his arm off your shoulders. “Don’t say it like that.”

He just laughs. “What, it’s true! You just need your best friend Gojo to help you along.” He grins at you, that charming smile, all teeth.

You’re still grimacing, not finding him funny at all. Satoru tilts his head, expression falling a little, because you’re never like this – you always think he’s funny. It’s what he loves about you, that silly, beautiful laugh, and now you’re keeping it from him.

“My best friend, huh?” you ask, voice low and a little sour.

“Well, yeah,” he says, raising a brow and smirking. “Isn’t that what I am? Best friend Gojo, at your service.”

And suddenly you can’t hold it in, you’re snapping at him, lashing out and showing a different side of you for the very first time, a side that’s been hurt, a side that still aches.

A side that mirrors the vulnerability he showed you; a side that’s just a different side of the same coin.

“Well, best friends and I don’t have the best track record,” you snap, and you tug away from him, turning your face to hide from his piercing gaze.

His expression falls, confusion and concern suddenly taking over. “Hey,” he says, placing a hand on your arm, and it’s meant to be a comforting gesture, “what do you mean? I’m sorry; I was just kidding around–”

But you yank away from his touch again. “Don’t touch me! Does something about me just scream that anyone can touch me without asking?” Your voice starts to rise with frustration, incredulity.

Satoru’s heart sinks; he thinks he’s beginning to understand what happened with your last best friend. “Princess, I…”

You turn away again, hugging your arms around yourself. You sound mournful when you speak again. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get like that.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s okay, princess.” His voice is soft, like he’s speaking to a startled animal. You wonder if that’s how he sees you right now.

You don’t want him to see you like that. You want to be the funny, light-hearted best friend. You don’t want to have all this baggage.

His voice is still gentle when he speaks again. “You want me to walk you home?”

“No, I… I’m sorry,” you say again, shaking your head. “You stay and have fun. I don’t… I don’t want to ruin your night.”

He shakes his head again, more firmly this time. “You’re not ruining my night. Let me take care of you.” Like you took care of me. The unspoken words are heavy between the two of you.

You look up at him for a long moment, the bass of the music thudding in the background. “Are you sure?” You finally ask, voice almost too soft to be heard over the music.

He nods, smiling gently. He reaches forward to wrap his arm around your shoulders again, raising his brows in question before he touches you. You nod, sheepish, and he puts his arm around you, hugging you to his side.

From across the club, he signals to the others that you’re leaving. Nanami and Utahime give questioning looks, but Shoko just nods back, looking between the two of you.

Satoru walks you home, keeping you safely tucked under his arm to beat back the cold air. You’re mostly quiet, and it’s not until you’re unlocking your front door and kicking off his shoes that you look up and speak.

“I…” you begin, voice timid, quiet. “I’m…not sure if I can let you stay tonight.”

He nods immediately, agreeing without question. “That’s fine, princess. Let me get you in bed, and I’ll leave, okay? I promise.”

You look up at him, eyes so incredibly vulnerable, and Satoru’s heart nearly breaks at the look in them, like you’re not even sure if you can trust him. It’s me, he wants to say, it’s your Satoru.

But he’s sure you’ve heard something just like that before, and that it wouldn’t help the situation. So he walks with you to your bedroom, and when he helps tuck you into bed, making sure you have water on your nightstand, he keeps a safe distance from you.

Then, once you’ve plugged your phone in for the night and buried yourself under the covers, he sits gingerly at the foot of the bed, looking at you. He’s quiet for a long moment before he asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You almost smile; it’s exactly what you asked him, not that long ago, when he was the vulnerable one instead of you. You think for a long moment, wondering if you’re ready to talk about it.

Slowly, you shake your head.

He just nods, patting your feet through the blankets. “Alright,” he says, voice hushed. “Need anything before I go.”

“No. Just… thanks, Satoru.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” He gives your leg one last squeeze before standing and making his way towards the door. Before he shuts it behind him, he turns to speak over his shoulder. “Oh, and princess?”

“Yeah?”

His voice is low, firm, determined. “When you’re ready, give me that guy’s name. And whoever it is, he’ll regret ever having hurt you.”

And so when he’s gone, you can’t help but smile, just a little, knowing you have someone who cares that deeply about you.

thanks for reading! -luna xx prev. chapter | next chapter

[literaryslapshot]

22- So High School with Princess and Nolan pleeeeeeeaase 🫶🏻

"you knew what you wanted, and boy you got her" | poetic prompts | warnings: anxiety, panic attacks, chaos, weddings

it was everything they could imagine, even though it was the most stressful day of their life.

the wedding day had finally approached. after almost five years of dating, a year of being engaged, the day arrived. typical wedding day jitters fell upon both parties, the usual last minute thoughts and touch ups, nothing prepared either of them for the massive chaotic crowd that was waiting outside the venue.

even though the bridal party did their best to keep it away from y/n, she knew that the flowers hadn't been delivered, the photographer was an hour late, and the shuttle was also late. as a group they decided to push the wedding back at least an hour to make room for adjustments. but nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to stop her from getting married today.

not even a nervous groom.

"y/n, i need to talk with you for a second." her maid of honor whispered in her ear. she was about to get in her dress, hair and makeup done and set, ready for pictures when the photographer would arrive. stepping to the side in her silk robe and slippers, she felt her stomach drop. god, what now?

"no bullshit. i know we're all done with that today, but you need to talk to nolan. travis texted me saying he is having a panic attack and won't come out of the bathroom. all of this massive chaos is probably freaking him out too," y/n was handed a tissue when she felt tears well up in her eyes, "no no, no crying, it'll all be okay. i'll go with you?"

"no, i can do it. when the photographer gets here y'all go ahead and take pictures and just wait for me."

walking across the venue and where the guys were getting ready, she knocked on the door and was greeted by travis. she made sure all the guys left before talking to nolan. it was like his soul knew she was there before she spoke. a few seconds before she knocked on the door he felt his breathing steady out.

"nolie it's me, please open the door. nobody else is here, just you and me." she softly spoke. he got up, leaning his forehead against the wooden door with a soft thud.

"it's bad luck to see each other before the wedding," his thick accent present in how he spoke, sniffling after he finished. he heard her giggle and slide her slippers across the wooden floor.

"we've had enough bad luck today, so i think we're gonna be okay." he unlocked the door then leaned against the wall, waiting for her to open it. her heart softened when she opened the door, noticed that he'd been crying a lot with tear tracks down his cheeks. his shirt was unbuttoned and his hair was messy. "oh baby," she placed her hand on his cheek, wiping another tear away.

"'m sorry, princess." he took in a sharp breath before letting out another cry. "i just got really nervous, y'know? i mean what if i'm not a good husband? i don't want you to get sick of me and...and leave."

she tucks a lock of loose hair behind his ear, grabbing a tissue from the counter and wiping his cheeks and nose for him. "if i was gonna get sick of you, i would have left by now." she kisses his forehead softly, "remember when we went on our first date? you were so confident, and it was really hot." nolan chuckled, "and when you came to the shop like ten times that next week? you knew what you wanted, and you got her. you got me, and i'm not going anywhere. i'm gonna be your wife, you're gonna be my husband, and we're gonna have a happily ever after together."

nolan places a hand on her cheek as she spoke, a smile on his lips and this time, happy tears filling his eyes. they share a sweet and emotional kiss, one she hopes to recreate in an hour at the altar. they pull apart and she helps nolan fix his tie and to get rid of some of the tear tracks on his cheeks.

"alright, nothing is stopping me from getting married to you today." nolan laughs with his head thrown back, "i'll see you in an hour," she walks to the door of the groomsmen suite, "i'll be the one in a pretty white dress." nolan kissed her on the cheek.

"i'll be the one waiting for you at the altar, princess."

[aylish91]

Its a late night and i had a scenario for the Leviathan Au…

Reader was born a mer, and actually the last of their species due to the unfortunate involvement of humans, and nightmare decides to take in reader because of this.

Maybe a comfort scene where reader is grieving over the loss of the members from her pod and the loss of her species in general and nightmare finds them alone? I would love to see what your take on this would be..

A morsel for your soul dear Anon. I may have misread it the first time, but we got there! hahaha! Have some first meetings and hurt/comfort.

Thank you for reading and requesting!

Why do you Weep?

The deep was… different. The pressure made your fins heavy and breath hard. You knew in time your body would become more accustomed to it and work out its difficulties, but for now, it was one more reminder of how much things had changed.

You missed the shallows and the reef. You missed your reef. You missed the laughter and anticipation of waiting for hunting parties returning with jellies and siphonophores.

You missed everything.

Sometimes you wonder if it would have been better if you had stayed behind. At least then you could have been lost with all the others. As it was, your mother’s panicked pleas were the only thing keeping you going. She and your father had given up so much that you might survive…

It hurt.

Flaring the soft ridges of your spine and fins, you forced yourself to dive deeper. You weren’t sure how far you had swum to reach the trench, but your mother was adamant that your safety hinged on descending “past the edge of day”.

Humans couldn’t follow unaided.

You knew you had reached it when a thin barrier of dark magic barred your path.

Though you were still cautious, crossing the border had been an immense relief. The waters had turned far too dark from the addition of nightfall and you were on the verge of collapse. Finally being able to search for a place to rest gave you hope.

The ledge you eventually found was large enough to lay but not inlaid enough for any sort of proper protection, but you made it work. Your pitiful nest may have lacked material, but it was enough to sleep on for a night. Besides, in the end, it didn’t really matter.

Your fins bristled.

If it had been any darker, you would never have noticed the massive tentacles creeping around the ledge ready to encase you. Quickly dodging, a growled reverberating voice sent true fear gripping your soul.

 “Why do you weep, little fish? What causes you such trepidation?” Though the words were that of concerned question, their tone and the intent boiling the water proved otherwise. Any genuine concern was replaced with that of mistrust and hunger.

You were nothing more than a trespasser. Prey to be chased and hunted.

Instincts had you darting up and away, but what you thought was an exit quickly turned into a trap. The tentacles were merely a distraction for the dark leviathan before you, his large skeletal hands loosely surrounding your escape. All you could do was flair your fins in hopes the flash of blue and white would warn against attack or consumption.

The titan only gave a pleased hum, a single slit of an orb casting eerie shadows. It made you distinctly aware of other flashes just out of sight of its light.

“Oh my~ A Sea Swallow? It has been quite the amount of time since I’ve had the pleasure of seeing one of your kind. What brings one this far into my territory? And in such a state? Pushing boundaries again, or simply a mistake? Please, do tell.”

A spot of jittering red passed overhead.

You couldn’t speak, terror allowing your poison to coat your body. At your silence, the titan leaned closer with a growl.

“What’s the matter? Has my appearance truly been this much of a surprise as to capture your tongue?”

The silhouette of a very large shark passed on the right. You flinched at the movement, the giant’s eyelight dilating to flick over you. Your soul was pounded in your chest as you shook but your words remained locked away.

Slowly, he leaned back.

“Pity. These circumstances have been less than appealing. Perhaps… a gentler touch is needed…” His fingers closed around you. “Come. I wish to know what has driven a Blue Angel this deep.”

You didn’t fight. You couldn’t. You were helpless as he dragged you further into the dark unknown.

***

You found yourself wandering back to the rim. Time had played a big part in your return, but it didn’t make the journey any easier. However, once there, you couldn’t bring yourself to cross the precipice of the deep. You stayed at its mouth, gazing back toward the reefs and shallows up ahead.

The silence was deafening.

Despite everything you had gone through, the growth and strides you had made, the water felt heavier now than in the depths. The colors were too bright, sunshine overwhelming instead of warm. Everything felt like it was too much.

There was no one to greet you home.

…

You couldn’t do it.

As tears burned the corner of your eyes, you found yourself wishing you had never taken the trip. Flashes of your past had you breaking. Sobs wracked with heavy tears filled the silence. In your grief, your fins paled in their droop as you floated freely in the open water. They pulled you slowly down to drift past the cliffs and crags as you sank.

You were numb, watching the light above dim the further you fell. One moment became two, two became four until time drifted with you into nothingness. It took a sudden uplift in the water for you to regain any sense of reality. A familiar glow cutting through your metaphorical darkness.

Nightmare’s face hovered above you, his tentacles flaring below. The subtle brush against your fins had you registering his hands carefully cupping your form. In a way, it reminded you of the very first time you passed into the realm of the deep, the soft rumble of his voice pulling you further from the oblivion.

“Where are you, little fish? Your mind has taken you beyond my reach.”

His words were oddly quiet, eyelight dim as it searched. It stirred something within you, helping you feel for the first time just how cold you had become. Slowly, you moved enough to grip one of his clawed fingers. His thumb, though hesitant, came to stroke your soft underbelly.

You felt muted and far away.

“Everyone is gone... It’s too quiet.”

“Something tells me it's not the boys to which you refer.”

Tears once again threatened to spill. “My family. My pod... They—”

“Are down in the deep.” You felt the water shift from his shuddered intake of breath. “Those that came before might not be with you Angel, but that does not mean there can’t be others. Has our time meant so little that you cannot see them for what they truly are? What we, are?” You had never heard him take such a gentle but firm tone. So quiet. Reserved for only the two of you. You could feel the overwhelming intent in each word. It spread comfort with promises of so much more.

“We may not be able to bring back your past, but do not forget your future in your grief. The present is still here, waiting. The shiver would be very disappointed if you forgot that.”

“All this time I was just— How? How do I keep going? It hurts! Nothing’s the same anymore!”

His giant skull came to bonk and nuzzle into yours. “With time, nothing ever is. There is always change, no matter how subtle. We grow, we love, we lose. Currents move and sands pass. It is unfortunate you should have to face such things so soon, but we are here, and we can help carry the burden.” A claw caressed your tear-stained cheek. “Share your sorrows, that I might ease your pain. You are not alone.”

For the first time since the incident, you felt a deep sense of release. The ache in your soul softened. Gripping tighter, you pressed back with a desperation you didn’t know you had.

“I wish you could roam in the shallows. If you were… Should I ever get the courage to go back, I would have liked you to be there.”

“Perhaps…” He hesitated, eyelight darting away as a hint of color bloomed on his skull. “Perhaps when you are ready, I will be.”

You met his gaze in confusion. “But, how—”

A gentle claw pressed against your lips with a mischievous chuckle, water rushing from Nightmare’s sudden descent. “Now now, my Angel. All in due time. For now, let us return. The others await your return home.”

…

Home.

… You smiled, leaning more into the giant. It looked like there would be someone to greet you after all.