#she got caught and attacked and barely escaped

[ineed-to-sleep]

decided to play the whole game again w nawen bc now I got her a fleshed out backstory + character development + most importantly. mods for pretty clothes

[wyvernest]

cregan stark x f!targaryen!reader

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>>Queen Rhaenyra has sent you away from the brewing war to safety since your brother, Jacaerys, has secured the Pact of Ice and Fire. You have to honor it by marrying Lord Cregan Stark, Warden of the North.

chapter cw: sex in the hot springs, so smut, fluff, piv, two positions?, a bit of chasing as primal play, breeding kink

His thick arms hold you with undeniable ardour. The steam fuming from the waters in misty ribbons do little to clear your head, as your lord husband peppers the sensitive skin below your ear with kisses full of want.

One of your legs curls up around his own, as if on instinct; a seemingly romantic yet primal instinct of silently allowing him to have you. Your breathing only deepens when you feel the coarse hair on his leg, as if the embrace did not already bring your bare breasts against him, and every patch of your shivery skin under his touch.

Even with the clear ripples of the water, you sense something against your hip, and the breath leaving your lungs gets caught on a moan on its way out.

“My dear wife.” He mumbles with sincere infatuation, as your hands escape his hold and run down his massive shoulders.

“Wasn’t I to be less easy, Lord Stark?” You tease, with barely half a breathy voice, and he visibly tenses in pride at the name.

He stops, and when he moves his head away from your neck to look at you, you nearly regret even speaking as the reminiscence of his heated touch burns needily above your clavicle.

“You are anything but.” His tone is low and intimate, and it has your insides twisting and turning in anticipation. You wanted to have him fight for it, as late as it was. Though you are now unsure of how much longer you could bear it yourself. “Did you have a change of heart?”

“No.” Your answer shoots out fast, contrary to your desire to play a different game. “I only wish to relish this for longer.”

The slight twitch of his features when you clarify your intentions strikes a lighting into your already boiling blood; the twitch of a wolf whose prey evaded his swiftest attack. He knows she can’t run forever, but the hunt weaves frustration and eagerness on his face nonetheless. He accepts and loosens his possessive hold, though his eyes betray his thoughts.

A hunger so profound and restless darkens his gaze, and you almost want him to have refused your little diversion. To have taken you however he pleased, tell you that you’ll be the most perfect mother for his pups and show you what it truly meant to belong to a northerner.

But alas, you drift away into the crystalline pond, and even the smouldering waters feel colder without his skin on yours.

Your giggle bounces off the cave walls with an echo so sweet to his ears that you thought for a moment he may pounce on you and end the wait. But he remained restrained, slowly following you further behind stalagmites.

Luring him further deep into the springs, you twist and turn in the rippling waters from moment to moment just to gaze at him, just to see more and more of him; the way he carefully got up to freeze the image of you swimming naked in his mind. You watch the droplets run down his stomach, the shine of the dimly lit cave mirrored in his irises.

“You have such beautiful eyes, lover.”

“Lover.” He retorts, his tone almost a threat. “Nigh yours they’re naught but stones beneath frostfires.”

You blush at the deftness of his compliment.

“Though winter blooms only ever endure if they grow in the shadow of stout stones. There is more beauty in living to defend than in living to survive.” You declare, still backing away, intimidated but enticed by his stalking pace approaching you.

He smiles, distracted by your cleverness.

“We must be perfect for eachother then.”

He leaps with no warning, wanting to entrap you back in his arms. You avoid his swift hands only with the merit of water slowing him down. As he catches his balance, you push yourself onto your elbows on the edge of the pond, coming to raise to your feet in front of him.

It is the first time he truly sees you, no turned back, no waves or foam to veil you. His eyes rake across your body shamelessly, a reminder of how you’re his. The air, however steamy, hits you with the slightest cold gust, and your skin prickles with goosebumps, nipples hardening as your skin weeps with a sheer shroud of damp varnish; a statue of beauty and desire.

You ought to feel at the very least timid under his hungry gaze, but you don’t. You feel wanted, adored by his expression alone, and near want and adoration there is no place for coyness. You feel precious and pure, so that you offer yourself to him, allow him to touch you for he has earned it.

The sense of great importance yet dissolves quickly as he, too, rises from the waters, seemingly reaching for his prize. You don’t wait to see him entirely because if you did, you would have seen him at the cost of your freedom.

With a leap and a giddy scream, you sprint through the cave to evade him. Your heart thumps too fast for you to even have the courage to look behind, though you hear the water splashing violently in your wake. You decide to dive back into the pond and hide into a crevice.

You can only hear your rash breathing as you search around the rocky shores for him.

Suvion’s back horns twitch in his sleep, slightly disturbed by your raucous play, but nonetheless calm.

Strong arms curl around your middle, not tight enough to hurt and not loose enough for you to fight back. With a yelp, you give in and settle back against his chest, turning your head just enough to see his face. His erection brushes up your thigh, and you lose all willingness to delay.

“A man can only be so strong.” He adjusts his hold, keeping one arm around you, moving your hair from your neck with his other hand, baring the skin above your shoulder. “- when his pretty lady wife gets all naked and wet and dances around him so happily just to drive him mad.”

You feel his hot breath over your pulse.

“Do you enjoy seeing my need get so dire, flower?”

“I do.”

“Then it seems I have awfully neglected my duties as husband. I might just have to remind you that you haven’t wed some craven southern lord who doesn’t have the guts to take what is his when he wants it.”

You arch back slowly, feeling him up. He places a firm hand on your shoulder and pushes you into a more manageable position, taking you by surprise. You try to brace yourself with your palms on any stone you could find, while his own hands ride down your back, stopping at your hips to grip the supple flesh of your arse.

A pleasured gasp fills your lungs as Cregan brings his hard cock to rub on your tender flower. He groans at the feeling, teasing you so close yet so far from pleasure.

As your own hips begin to move in sync with his, chasing the promised intrusion, one of his hands roams your belly, your waist, his warm, calloused palm setting your skin aflame in its wake. His fingers reach the underside of your right breast, and your breathing stops; as if you’re afraid any more movement might dismiss his touch.

“Cregan.”

His palm remains on your ribs, and your whole being silently begs for him to continue.

“Don’t fret, I’m not leaving your side, wife. This is for your own good.”

“I don’t --” Your protest is cut short as both his hands reach your breasts, fondling firmly.

Your body feels inexplicably light and soft in his arms as he lifts your torso back against his chest, his large, rough hands not once breaking away from your tits. You’re cornered, at his will.

His mouth finds your neck, licking and biting away as you resume his motions where he stopped, pushing your ass into his groin and asking him in the most primal ways to take you at once.

“I cannot wait to see you heavy with child.” He caresses your lower belly, and you feel his cock twitch between your thighs in excitement at the thought. “Do you want that, my love?”

“Of course I do - ” You confess with a trembling, quiet moan.

“Say it, then, wife.” He interrupts, clearly overrun with heat and desire.

“I want – ah” He kisses down your neck, one of his hands leaving your breasts to slide his fingers over the petals of your cunt. He hums approvingly, bringing the head of his cock to your core. You’re soaked in more ways than one. “ - I want your babes, please, Cregan, you- ”

You mewl as he pushes in, the water splashing right above your knees. Pleasure shifts into pain and pain into pleasure as he takes your maidenhood, mounting you with a bruising hold on your waist. He groans with you, his breathing laboured. At a particularly sharp sting, you whimper, making him stop to plant a kiss on your shoulder blade. You can’t move, you can’t think of anything but him, the scent of him, the sounds that escape straight from his throat, his warm hands on you.

An echo of his guttural groans makes you clench around him, making him halt right before he could bottom out. You feel him up in your guts, though his girth stings worst.

He pushes you forward again, a hand on your neck and another providing leverage on your hip. Giving a few well measured thrusts, he starts to properly move. Your back arched for him, thighs parting, your essence coating his cock like you were made to take his seed.

Your own moans spur him on as he quickly finds his pace, relentless and steady. His heavy balls slam against your sensitive bundle of nerves, drawing your breaths out with every lunge of his hips into your behind.

“Fuck, I want to see you. Ugh, I want to-” He grunts, drawing his still hard cock out of your cunt with a pained curse, your own insides squeezing him on his way out.

You yelp as he picks you up the way he picked you up on the way back from the Weirwood tree on your wedding night, taking you out of the warm waters and walking over to his discarded furs on the cave floor.

The air is suddenly brisk on your damp skin, but your husband is quick to climb on top of you and shield you from the cold with his own body heat.

He gazes at you with such wonder and adoration in his eyes you, for a mere moment, swear you could faint from it all. When lust seeps back into his pupils you don’t fail to notice, his lips finding yours in a messy, wet kiss. You sigh into it to catch the breath you still haven’t found since he left you, he breaks it to groan as he grabs himself in his hand to re-enter you.

You both gasp, forehead to forehead as you meet again, his cock twitching as he once again pushes through your vestal resistance. When he begins to pound, you curl your legs around his hips and tangle your hands in his dark hair.

A sweet cacophony of conjoined sighs and groans reverberates into the cave walls, ever so slightly eclipsed by the waterfalls. With every thrust you start to climb towards your peak, and with every one of your “Cregan!”, “Yes, yes, yes, don’t stop!” he grows closer to his own.

Your own little death finds you as he presses his lips to the sensitive trails he’d found on your neck before biting down to muffle his own pleasure. He pushes in with a few final lunges, and you feel his cock pulsate and release his seed.

You suddenly grow insanely hot as you come down, though you don’t hesitate to snuggle at his side on the soft furs as he drops beside you panting and dragging your smaller frame with him.

“It took, lover.” You break the silence, speaking into his neck.

He turns to you, pleased and interested.

“I know it did.” You explain, smiling up at him. “I know it.”

“Even if it didn’t, we have plenty of time to try, flower.”

a/n if i missed tags sorry guys also will soon show u suvion<3

tags:

@ohsnapitzmarvelficrec @crypticlxrsh @louiselouve @karmaswitch @just-pure-trash @yujyujj @cost234 @dracaryxzs @cherrymallowtm @lady-targaryens-world @lightdragonrayne @krokietino @sukunassfinger @ithilwen-blackwood @rey26 @beebeechaos @melsunshine @aemondwhoresworld @romeavecryst @raynetargaryan2 @fireandblood-mharmie @mitski9328373 @drwho-ess @dorkysupernova @nitimurinvetitumsposts @ghitakhnifissa @darylspersonalwhore @helo1281917 @delaynew @poochies04 @accidentpronedork @fiction-fanfic-reader @rha3nyra @wallacewillow0773638 @star-serpent @potionsclub @moadvx @jellybeanstacey0519 @italianchameleon @ephemeralninon @sithapprentice @cloveradora @hawkins-2000 @thatspiderwebinthecorner @wolvestitches @idohknow @nyxbranwenn @asteria33 @nina6708 @r-3dlips

[inkspiredwriting]

Flirt and Fight at the Sparrow Academy

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Five Hargreeves stood in front of the imposing Sparrow Academy mansion, his eyes scanning the unfamiliar facade. This was supposed to be their home, the Umbrella Academy, but instead, they had landed in the wrong timeline—one where the Sparrow Academy existed instead of their own.

"Ready?" Luther asked, his voice tense.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Five replied, leading the way into the house.

They barely made it through the door when they were met by the Sparrow Academy members, each one poised for a fight. The leader, Marcus, stepped forward, his eyes narrowing.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

"We're the Umbrella Academy," Luther said, standing his ground.

Before they could explain further, the Sparrows attacked. Five found himself facing off against a woman with sharp eyes and a confident smirk. Y/n, he heard someone call her. She moved with precision, her strikes quick and calculated.

Five blocked her attacks, but couldn't help but notice the way her eyes sparkled with challenge. "Nice moves," he said, dodging a particularly fast punch.

"Thanks," she replied, a grin tugging at her lips. "You're not too bad yourself."

Their fight was intense, but there was an undeniable chemistry between them. Every punch and kick was matched with a flirtatious comment, a sly smile.

"You always this charming in a fight?" Y/n asked, blocking one of his kicks.

"Only when I'm trying to impress someone," Five shot back, grinning.

Y/n's laugh was short but genuine. "Well, consider me impressed."

The battle raged on around them, but Five found himself almost enjoying the sparring with y/n. She was skilled, confident, and there was something about her that drew him in.

Eventually, the Hargreeves managed to escape the Sparrow Academy, regrouping outside. As they caught their breath, Diego noticed the distracted look on Five's face.

"What's up with you?" Diego asked, wiping sweat from his brow.

Five shook his head, trying to focus. "Nothing. Just... thinking."

"About that Sparrow chick?" Klaus chimed in, a teasing grin on his face. "I saw the way you two were flirting."

Five rolled his eyes. "We were fighting, Klaus. It's not the same thing."

"Sure didn't look that way to me," Allison added, a knowing smile on her lips.

"Can we focus, please?" Luther said, trying to bring the conversation back to their current predicament. "We need to figure out how to get back to our timeline."

But Five's thoughts kept drifting back to y/n. There was something about her that he couldn't shake, and it annoyed him how easily she had gotten under his skin.

"Come on, Five," Viktor said, nudging him. "We've got work to do."

"Right," Five muttered, trying to push thoughts of y/n out of his mind. But even as they walked away from the Sparrow Academy, he couldn't help but glance back, wondering when—or if—he'd see her again.

As they continued down the street, Klaus threw an arm around Five's shoulders, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You know, if this whole saving the world thing doesn't work out, at least you've got a new crush to think about."

Five shoved Klaus off, but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. "Shut up, Klaus."

The journey back to their timeline would be fraught with challenges, but somewhere in the back of his mind, Five knew that y/n, the intriguing fighter from the wrong 2019, would be a thought he couldn't quite let go of.

[pbnbucks]

word count : 807

warnings : smut, reasonably emotional

summary : paige’s graduation party leaves you emotional and horny for your childhood best friend who commonly teases you

request : “Can you please do a Paige x y/n one shot for prompt number 8/9 in the smut prompts? llysm your work is so good!!!”

your hands clapped together along with others when paige walked out into the back yard coming back from her graduation seeing the large tables filled in her yard along with the grills that are steaming with burgers and hotdogs as she hugs each one of her family members saving you for last pulling you in for a hug as she pulls away you place a lingering kiss on her cheek

“looking this good just for me mama?” your best friend teases you as her jokes never fail to put a smile on your lips

“well i had to since you want to leave me in minnesota so you can go to Connecticut to be with all your fangirls” you laugh messing with her as she fakes a pout “you know your the only one i got eyes for” she takes her graduation cap off as it leaves her hair all frizzy as you run your fingers through her hair fixing her hair,

once your finished you take a step back eyeing her frame and her curves making her blush at your focus on her “We're in public, you know?” she retorts trying to seem flattering “oh shut up playboy”

your helping her mom when the blonde comes back behind you asking you to help pick out a outfit as she wanted to take you for a walk downtown tonight.

you follow behind her up the long slim stairs walking into her room carefully shutting the door behind you.

her familiar room that was once cleaned was now filled with card board boxes that was packed with clothes and gear for her college years as your eyes lingered on the frames filled with pictures of memories over the years that where now stuffed into the boxes as well.

your facial expressions didn’t slip past paige with her giving you a worried look “what did i do mama? how can i fix it?” she sits on the edge of her bed as she pulls you in to sit on her lap as your head lays on her shoulder as you sulk in your feelings

“your leaving me p” you coo as the blonde was now going to be hours away since you decided to go to the university of minnesota and she decided to take her dreams to the university of Connecticut.

her thumb come down to your chin moving it for you to look up at her “im always going to be there for you, i promise” she whispers as her words send the shivers down your spine “i love you paige”

your softened tone must of flipped a switch in her because now her face inched closer to yours leaving barely an inch before you moved into her embrace as your lips fought for dominance as your body inches closer to her.

you bit her lip softly making a moan escape from her lips as she flips your back on to the bed hovering over you as the necklace you gifted her now dangled over your face as the heart shaped diamond shined over the dark room.

“you should know im not going to let you be in charge mama” she tries to convince you but you know one day she will let you top as her kisses linger from your neck to your lower stomach as she looks up for consent as you give her a quick nod for her to hurry up.

her tongue licks a long stripe between your dripping folds as your legs slightly squirm from the pleasure feeling making her smirk in pride while she continues to lap at your cunt while her tongue teasingly slips in your hole often not failing her teasingly playful manner.

her finger slips into your core slowly adding another one as moans begin to slip out from the feeling “Quiet. We don't wanna get caught now, do we?” she reminds you as some of her family are sitting inside away from the heat.

her attack on your clit never faulted as your lower stomach began to burn making you wince at the close feeling of pleasure as your hand is placed on her head.

“your worth the long wait princess” she coos as her moans send a vibration through your core as you feel the knot begin to collapse

“paige, need to cum” you force out as you can already feeling it break as she speeds up her movements as your liquids come crashing on your tongue as your head pushes in to the pillow you once rested innocently on muffling your moans. she licks up every last bit of cum she can as she pulls herself up over you

“so you wanna tell me how good i am or just keep staring at me?” her playfulness returns as she gives you a quick peck “paige” you whine as her spark comes back.

[novaursa]

Bonsoir

my English is not very good sorry 🥹

I’m obsessed with Sir Gwayne Hightower..

Can we imagine something like reader is the younger sister of Rheanyra and she fell in love with him during the tournament.

The king Viserys love his daughter so much that he accept her demand. They lived in Oldtown where they raised Daeron, and they also have children maybe 5/6?

Later they came back to King’s Landing and it’s their child’s who got attack the night (idk if one died like you want) and both of them goes furious agains Rheanyra and Alicent.

A House Divided

- Summary: During a tourney your father organized for the birth of his heir, your heart found a flame in Ser Gwayne Hightower.

- Paring: targ!reader/Gwayne Hightower

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. The requests are now closed!

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 5 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @holdingforgeneralhugs

The grand tourney was in full swing, the air mingling with the scent of churned earth and sweat, and the clamor of metal clashing against metal reverberated through the stands. You sat in the royal box, perched between your elder sister, Rhaenyra, and her closest companion, Alicent Hightower. The three of you made a striking tableau, clad in the rich velvets and silks befitting your station, your hair arranged in intricate braids that sparkled with delicate gems. The sun beat down mercilessly on the field below, casting a golden hue over the proceedings as knights in gleaming armor paraded before you.

Rhaenyra leaned forward, her attention rapt, as one of the knights she had favored rode out onto the field. "Ser Harwin Strong," she whispered, more to herself than to you. "They say he could fell a dozen men in single combat."

You barely heard her, your gaze fixed on the next rider in line. He wore the silver and green of House Hightower, his helm adorned with the familiar sigil of the fiery beacon. Ser Gwayne Hightower, Alicent’s brother, guided his horse with practiced ease, his posture straight and noble, as befitting the son of the Hand of the King. But it wasn’t just his prowess on the field that caught your attention. No, it was the way his eyes, even from beneath the shadow of his helm, seemed to seek yours.

You felt a flutter in your chest, a warmth that had nothing to do with the summer sun. Your heart skipped a beat when his gaze locked with yours, lingering for a moment too long to be mere coincidence. His expression, though partially obscured by the helm, betrayed something—an unspoken acknowledgment, a silent exchange that sent a shiver down your spine. You offered him a small, shy smile, one that you hoped would convey the burgeoning emotions that you could barely understand yourself.

Beside you, Alicent noticed the exchange. She turned her head slightly, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "He is quite skilled, isn’t he?" she remarked casually, though the hint of amusement in her tone did not escape your notice.

"Yes," you replied softly, trying to keep your voice even. "He is."

Alicent’s lips curled into a knowing smile, but she said nothing more, her attention shifting back to the tournament as the next knight prepared to ride. But your thoughts remained on Gwayne, your mind replaying the moment over and over again.

The peace of the moment was shattered when a thunderous cheer erupted from the crowd. A new rider had entered the lists, one who commanded immediate attention. The black stallion he rode was as imposing as the man himself, its powerful muscles rippling beneath the dark coat as it trotted confidently onto the field. The helm he wore was unmistakable, the dragon sigil of House Targaryen gleaming in the sunlight. Your uncle, Daemon, the Rogue Prince.

A tension gripped the air, as palpable as the steel of the swords being brandished on the field. Daemon was not merely a competitor; he was a force unto himself, and his mere presence sent ripples of unease through the crowd. You knew well enough of the strained relationship between him and the Hand, and you could feel a foreboding sense of what was to come.

Your heart lurched as Daemon’s gaze swept the field, his eyes narrowing with calculated malice. He was looking for an opponent, someone whose defeat would send a clear message to the court. And then, with a wicked smile, he made his choice.

"Ser Gwayne Hightower!" the herald announced, his voice carrying over the din of the crowd. 

The smile you had shared with Gwayne moments ago felt like a distant memory, replaced now with an overwhelming sense of dread. You watched in horror as Daemon spurred his horse forward, his eyes gleaming with cruel intent. Gwayne had no choice but to accept the challenge; to refuse would be to invite dishonor upon his house.

Alicent gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "He’s doing this to spite my father," she whispered, her voice trembling. "He means to humiliate us."

Rhaenyra’s expression darkened as she glanced between you and the field. "Daemon is always looking for ways to make his mark," she said, her voice edged with frustration. "But this…"

Your hands tightened around the arms of your seat, knuckles turning white as you watched the two knights prepare to charge. The tension was almost unbearable, your fear for Gwayne warring with the knowledge that there was nothing you could do. He was skilled, yes, but Daemon was ruthless, and the outcome of this bout felt all too predictable.

The sound of hooves pounding against the earth filled your ears as the two men charged at each other, lances poised to strike. The crowd held its breath, the world seeming to slow as the distance between the riders closed in an instant.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away. You didn’t want to look, but you couldn’t bear to look away either. The moment of impact was sudden, brutal. Daemon’s lance struck true, sending Gwayne crashing to the ground in a blur of motion. The crowd erupted into a cacophony of cheers and gasps, but all you could hear was the rush of blood in your ears.

Alicent’s hand found yours, squeezing it tightly, and you realized she was trembling just as much as you were. Rhaenyra leaned closer, her voice a whisper meant to comfort. "He’ll be all right," she said, though even she didn’t sound entirely convinced. "Ser Gwayne is strong. He’ll rise again."

But as you looked down at the field, where Gwayne lay motionless in the dirt, your heart was filled with fear and uncertainty. The triumph on Daemon’s face as he rode past only deepened your dread. You knew that this was just the beginning of a dangerous game, one in which the stakes were far too high.

And though you wanted nothing more than to rush to Gwayne’s side, to ensure that he was truly all right, you could only sit there, helpless, as the tourney continued around you, your thoughts consumed by the image of his fall and the lingering touch of his gaze upon yours.

The corridors of the Red Keep were quiet, the bustle of the day having given way to the stillness of the evening. You walked with purposeful steps, though each one felt heavier than the last, weighed down by the thoughts swirling in your mind. The events of the tourney still haunted you, particularly the moment when Ser Gwayne Hightower had been unseated by your uncle Daemon in such a brutal manner. The memory of Gwayne lying motionless on the ground was seared into your memory, and you had spent every waking moment since then worrying about his well-being.

You had learned earlier that day from Alicent that Gwayne was recovering in a guest chamber within the Keep, his wounds being tended to by the maesters. The relief that had washed over you upon hearing he was alive had been swiftly replaced by an overwhelming need to see him, to ensure with your own eyes that he was truly all right.

But more than that, you felt a deep sense of guilt. Gwayne had suffered because of your uncle’s vendetta, and though you knew Daemon was not your responsibility, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you needed to apologize on his behalf. It was as if your worry for Gwayne had ignited a flame of something more within you, something you hadn’t fully understood until now.

You approached the door to Gwayne’s chamber, hesitating only briefly before knocking lightly. The sound echoed softly in the empty hall, and you held your breath as you waited for a response. A few moments passed, and then you heard the shuffling of feet from within. The door creaked open, revealing Gwayne’s face—pale but still handsome, his hair slightly disheveled, and his usually bright eyes dulled with pain. When he saw you standing there, surprise flickered across his features, quickly replaced by something warmer.

“Princess Y/N,” he greeted, his voice soft but filled with a warmth that made your heart flutter. “I did not expect a visit from you.”

“I… I wanted to see how you were faring,” you replied, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” he said, stepping back to allow you entrance. “Forgive the state of the room. I’ve not been the best company, I’m afraid.”

The chamber was modest, yet comfortable. The bed in which Gwayne had been resting was neatly made, though the pillows were slightly askew, evidence of his struggle to find a comfortable position. A small table beside the bed held a pitcher of water, a few books, and some bandages that had been used by the maesters. The room smelled faintly of herbs, likely to aid in the healing process.

You walked slowly into the room, your eyes briefly scanning the surroundings before settling on Gwayne again. He closed the door behind you and made his way back to the bed, moving with a slight limp. You felt a pang of guilt seeing him in such a state, knowing that it was your uncle’s doing.

“Please, sit,” he offered, gesturing to a chair near the bed. You took a seat, clasping your hands in your lap, unsure of where to begin. Gwayne settled back onto the bed, wincing slightly as he did so.

“I’m sorry, Ser Gwayne,” you blurted out, unable to contain the words any longer. “I’m so sorry for what my uncle did. It was cruel and unnecessary, and… and I’m sorry you had to endure it.”

Gwayne looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he smiled—a gentle, almost affectionate smile that made your heart ache in a way that was both unfamiliar and comforting.

“There’s no need for you to apologize,” he said softly. “Your uncle is his own man, and his actions are not your burden to bear.”

“But I feel responsible,” you insisted, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “He is family, and yet he… he targeted you because of your own.”

Gwayne reached out, his hand brushing lightly against yours where they rested in your lap. The touch was soft, hesitant, as though he wasn’t sure if it was welcome, but the warmth of his skin against yours sent a shiver through you. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and in that moment, you felt the full force of the connection that had been growing between you.

“I am a knight, Princess,” he said, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. “I knew the risks when I entered the lists. Your concern honors me, but please do not blame yourself for what happened.”

You nodded, though the guilt still lingered at the edges of your mind. “I’ve been so worried about you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “When I saw you fall… I’ve never felt such fear before.”

His thumb gently stroked the back of your hand, the small gesture sending a thrill through you. “And I have never been so honored to be the cause of someone’s worry,” he replied, his tone laced with warmth. “But I’m all right. The maesters say I will heal fully, given time.”

The weight on your chest lifted slightly at his reassurance, and you allowed yourself to truly take in his appearance. Despite his injuries, there was a strength in him that shone through, a resilience that you admired. And more than that, there was a kindness in his eyes, a softness that made you feel seen, truly seen, in a way you hadn’t before.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice filled with sincerity. “For being so understanding… and for not holding my family’s actions against me.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” he said, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I care for you, more than you might realize. Seeing you here, knowing that you came for me… it means more than words can express.”

The room seemed to shrink around you, the air thick with the unspoken feelings that hung between you. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you were acutely aware of how close he was, how the slightest movement would close the distance between you.

“I care for you too, Gwayne,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of the admission. It was the first time you had spoken those words, the first time you had allowed yourself to truly acknowledge what had been blossoming between you.

His eyes softened, and for a moment, you thought he might lean in, that he might bridge the gap and close the distance between you in a way that would change everything. But instead, he merely tightened his grip on your hand, his thumb brushing against your skin in a way that felt almost reverent.

“I will heal, Princess,” he said, his voice low and filled with a promise that made your heart swell. “And when I do, I will strive to be worthy of your care.”

“You already are,” you replied, your voice firm despite the emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. “You have always been.”

The two of you sat there in silence for a long moment, your hand still held in his, the world outside the chamber forgotten. There was no need for further words; everything you needed to say was conveyed in the gentle touch, in the shared glances, in the understanding that passed between you.

Finally, you knew it was time to go, though leaving him was the last thing you wanted. You reluctantly pulled your hand from his, rising from your seat with a heart that felt both heavy and light all at once.

“Rest well, Ser Gwayne,” you said softly, your voice filled with warmth.

“And you, Princess,” he replied, his eyes lingering on yours as you turned to leave.

As you walked back through the quiet corridors of the Red Keep, your heart was filled with a new kind of certainty. The connection you felt with Gwayne was undeniable, you knew that you had found something precious in the midst of all the turmoil—something worth holding onto, no matter what the future might bring.

The years that followed the tourney saw your life change in ways you could have never anticipated. The bond between you and Gwayne Hightower deepened with each passing day, blossoming into a love that defied the expectations of courtly life. What began as shy smiles and stolen glances grew into something much more profound—conversations that lasted long into the night, tender moments shared in hidden alcoves of the Red Keep, and a connection that seemed to transcend all the chaos and political maneuvering that surrounded you both.

Gwayne became your constant companion, his presence a source of comfort and strength. He was a man of few words, but his actions spoke volumes. He was always there when you needed him, his steady gaze grounding you when the pressures of your station became too much to bear. And in return, you gave him your heart, knowing that he would cherish it as he had cherished you from the very beginning.

It was in the quiet moments, away from the prying eyes of the court, that you truly fell in love with him. You would sit together in the godswood, the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves as you shared stories of your childhoods, your dreams, your fears. He would listen intently, his gaze never wavering, and you would feel a warmth in your chest that you had never known before.

But as the years passed, you both knew that your love could not remain a secret forever. The time would come when you would have to seek the blessing of your father, King Viserys, if you were to be together openly. And so, one evening, after much deliberation, you found yourself standing before him in his chambers, your heart pounding with a mixture of hope and fear.

Viserys had aged in the years since your mother’s passing, the weight of the crown bearing heavily on his shoulders. His marriage to Alicent had brought stability to the realm, but there was a sadness in his eyes that had never truly left. Yet, when he looked at you, there was still warmth, a father’s love that had not dimmed with time.

“Father,” you began, your voice steady despite the anxiety gnawing at you, “there is something I must ask of you.”

He set aside the parchment he had been reading, giving you his full attention. “What is it, daughter?” he asked, his tone gentle.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. “I wish to marry Ser Gwayne Hightower.”

Viserys blinked, clearly taken aback by your request. “Gwayne?” he repeated, as if testing the name on his tongue. “You… you wish to marry him?”

“Yes, Father,” you said, meeting his gaze with unwavering determination. “I love him. He has been a constant presence in my life, and I cannot imagine my future without him.”

There was a long silence as Viserys studied you, his expression contemplative. You could see the thoughts racing behind his eyes, the calculations, the concerns. Marriages were rarely matters of the heart in the Targaryen dynasty; they were tools of politics, alliances forged to strengthen the realm. But you had always been different from your sister, Rhaenyra. You had always followed your heart, and now you were asking your father to allow you to do so in this most important of matters.

“Does he love you?” Viserys asked finally, his voice quiet.

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation. “I believe he does.”

Viserys sighed, his hand coming up to rub his temple. “You know what this would mean, don’t you? You are a princess of the realm, a daughter of the dragon. To marry a Hightower… it would tie you to their house in a way that cannot be undone, like it did me.”

“I know, Father,” you said. “But this is what I want. I’ve thought long and hard about it. I’ve considered the implications, the responsibilities. And still, my heart tells me this is the right path.”

At that moment, the door to the chamber opened, and Otto Hightower stepped in, his expression as calculating as ever. He must have overheard your conversation, or perhaps he had been summoned, for it was not uncommon for him to linger near the king’s chambers.

“If I may, Your Grace,” Otto interjected, his voice smooth, “a marriage between the Princess and my son would fully solidify the bond between House Targaryen and House Hightower. It would further strengthen the realm, ensuring the continued loyalty of Oldtown.”

Viserys glanced between you and Otto, his frown deepening. But when his gaze returned to you, it softened. “You truly love him?” he asked again, as if needing to hear it one more time.

“I do,” you whispered, your voice filled with a sincerity that could not be denied.

Viserys nodded slowly, a small, sad smile tugging at his lips. “Then I will grant your request,” he said, his voice heavy with the weight of the decision. “You may marry Gwayne Hightower.”

Relief washed over you, and you rushed forward to embrace your father, the smile on your face brighter than it had been in years. “Thank you, Father,” you murmured, your voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.”

Otto’s expression was one of quiet satisfaction, and you knew that he was already calculating the benefits this union would bring to his house. But at that moment, you didn’t care. All that mattered was that you were free to be with the man you loved.

The wedding took place in the Starry Sept in Oldtown, a grand affair that was attended by the most powerful lords and ladies of the realm. You wore a gown of deep crimson, the color of your house, with delicate silver thread woven into the fabric. Gwayne stood at the altar, resplendent in his armor, his eyes filled with nothing but love and adoration as he watched you approach. The ceremony was solemn and beautiful, the vows you exchanged echoing in the vastness of the Sept as you pledged your lives to one another.

After the wedding, you moved to Oldtown, where Gwayne took up his duties as a lord and you settled into your new role as his wife. It was in Oldtown that your family grew, and soon your household was filled with the laughter of children. You and Gwayne were blessed with six—three sons and three daughters, each one as beloved as the last. The boys, with their father’s hair and your violet eyes, grew strong and healthy, while the girls, with their mother’s grace and their father’s determination, were the joy of your heart.

But it wasn’t just your children who filled your home with love. Prince Daeron, your young Targaryen half-brother, had been sent to Oldtown to foster with you, and he quickly became as much a part of your family as your own children. You and Gwayne raised him as your own, and the bond between Daeron and your children was as strong as any sibling tie.

One afternoon, you found yourself standing on the balcony of your chambers, watching your children play in the garden below. The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over the scene. Your sons were chasing each other with wooden swords, their laughter ringing out as they pretended to be knights defending the realm. Your daughters were sitting in a circle, weaving flower crowns and giggling at some shared joke. And in the midst of them all was Daeron, his silver hair shining in the sunlight as he played with your youngest daughter, lifting her up onto his shoulders with a grin.

A sense of peace settled over you as you watched them, a deep contentment that came from knowing that they were happy, that they were safe. This was the life you had always dreamed of, the life you had fought for, and it was more perfect than you could have ever imagined.

A pair of arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against a familiar chest. Gwayne rested his chin on your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin as he looked out at the scene before you.

“They’ve grown so much,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet wonder.

“Yes,” you agreed, leaning back into his embrace. “It feels like just yesterday they were all babes in our arms.”

Gwayne chuckled softly. “And now they’re growing into little warriors and ladies, ready to take on the world.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for the man who had given you so much. “I could not have asked for a better life,” you said softly, turning your head to press a kiss to his cheek. “Or a better husband.”

He tightened his hold on you, his lips brushing against your temple. “Nor could I have asked for a better wife,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “You have made me the happiest of men, my love.”

You stayed like that for a long while, watching your children play, the warmth of Gwayne’s arms around you grounding you in the moment. This was your life now—a life filled with love, laughter, and the joy of raising a family together. And though the future was uncertain, as it always was in the world of thrones and dragons, you knew that as long as you had each other, you could face whatever came your way.

The laughter of your children and the gentle breeze of Oldtown were the sounds of your happiness, a happiness that you had fought for, and that you cherished with all your heart. And as the sun began to set on another perfect day, you knew that this was just the beginning of the life you had always dreamed of—one filled with love, family, and the promise of a future built on the strength of your bond with the man you loved.

The Red Keep had always been a place of grandeur and tradition, but in recent times, it had become a breeding ground for fear and treachery. You had come to King’s Landing with your family for what was meant to be a brief visit, a time to reunite with your kin and remind your children of the world beyond Oldtown. But that night, your worst fears were realized in a way that would haunt you for the rest of your days.

It was late when the nightmare began. The corridors of the Keep were quiet, the usual bustle of court life having settled into the stillness of the night. Your children had been put to bed hours ago, and you had just finished reading to your youngest son, his tiny form nestled under the blankets, his eyes fluttering closed as sleep claimed him. You kissed his forehead, smoothing his hair as you whispered goodnight, believing, as any mother would, that your children were safe within these walls.

But safety was an illusion.

The first sign that something was wrong came with the faint sound of footsteps—too heavy, too deliberate. You had barely turned toward the door when it burst open, and two men, shadows in the flickering candlelight, stepped into the room. 

Their presence was overwhelming, the stench of blood and malice clinging to them like a shroud. The taller of the two, Blood, held a cruel smile on his lips, while Cheese’s eyes were as cold and dead as the steel they carried. They moved with purpose, their gaze settling on the crib where your youngest son slept, blissfully unaware of the danger looming over him.

“No!” The word tore from your throat as you surged forward, your only thought to protect your child. But Blood was faster, his hand lashing out to seize your arm and wrench you back. You struggled, tears of desperation burning your eyes as you fought against his iron grip, but it was futile. They were too strong, too determined.

“Shhh,” Cheese hissed, his voice a mockery of gentleness as he approached the crib. “No need to cry, Princess. We’re here on a simple task.”

“You can’t—please, don’t do this,” you begged, your voice breaking. “He’s just a child…”

Blood’s grip tightened on your arm, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “It’s a son for a son, Princess. A fair trade.”

His words sent a jolt of terror through you. You knew the price they had come to exact. Rhaenyra, your own blood, had ordered this—vengeance for the loss of her son, Lucerys, at the hands of Aemond. The knowledge twisted your insides with a sickening realization. This wasn’t just a random act of violence; it was retribution, and your innocent child was to be the offering.

“No! Please, take me instead! Take me!” you cried, desperation lending strength to your struggles. But Blood merely laughed, a low, chilling sound that sent ice through your veins.

“Sorry, Princess, but we’re here for the boy.”

Before you could react, Cheese reached into the crib, his movements swift and practiced. Your son awoke with a start, his sleepy eyes widening in confusion as rough hands lifted him from the bed. His small, frightened cries pierced the air, tearing at your heart as you screamed for mercy.

“Please!” you wailed, struggling even harder, your voice breaking under the weight of your terror. “Don’t hurt him! Please!”

Cheese’s expression remained cold as he cradled your son in one arm, his other hand drawing a knife, its blade glinting in the dim light. The sight of it sent a fresh wave of panic through you, your body trembling as you watched, powerless, knowing what was about to happen.

But instead of the killing blow you feared, Cheese moved the knife down, slicing through the delicate skin of your son’s leg. The scream that followed was inhuman, a sound of pure agony that would forever haunt your nightmares. Your son’s body jerked in his captor’s arms, blood pouring from the wound, staining his clothes and the floor beneath him.

You collapsed to your knees, your strength drained, your screams turning to choked sobs as you reached out for your child. “Please, please, stop…” you begged, your voice hoarse and raw.

Blood released you then, his mission complete, his cruel smile lingering as he watched you crawl toward your son, your hands shaking as you tried to stem the flow of blood with the hem of your gown.

“Consider this a warning,” Blood sneered, his voice low and menacing. “A message to all who would betray their kin. The price of treachery is paid in blood.”

With that, they turned and left, vanishing into the shadows as quickly as they had come, leaving you alone in the darkness with your wounded child.

You gathered your son into your arms, rocking him gently as his cries weakened, his tiny body shaking with shock and pain. Blood stained your hands, your gown, the floor beneath you, and the horror of it all threatened to overwhelm you. But you couldn’t fall apart—not now. You had to save him. You had to hold on.

“Maester!” you screamed, your voice echoing through the empty corridors. “Maester, please!”

Moments later, Gwayne burst into the room, his face a mask of horror as he took in the scene before him. “No…” he breathed, his voice trembling with the same disbelief that had gripped you. He dropped to his knees beside you, his hands hovering over your son, as if afraid to touch him, afraid that the sight of his broken body might shatter what remained of his composure.

“They… they came for him,” you whispered, your voice thick with tears. “They came for him, and I couldn’t stop them…”

Gwayne’s eyes blazed with fury as he looked at the door, as if willing the men who had done this to reappear so he could tear them apart with his bare hands. “Where are the guards? Where were they?” he demanded, his voice rising with each word. “How could they let this happen?”

But no one could answer him. The guards who finally arrived were too late, their faces pale with the realization of their failure. And then came Alicent, her nightgown hastily thrown over her frame, her face as white as a ghost as she took in the horror that had unfolded in her own keep.

“Gwayne… my God, what’s happened?” Alicent gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she saw the blood, the broken child in your arms.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Gwayne spat, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. “They came for us. They came for my son. Your nephew!” His voice broke, and he shook his head, the anger in his eyes giving way to grief. “They maimed him, Alicent. They maimed my boy…”

Alicent’s face crumpled, tears spilling down her cheeks as she moved to kneel beside you. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “I’m so sorry…”

But her words did nothing to ease the pain that tore through your heart. You held your son closer, rocking him as his cries grew weaker, his little hands clutching at your gown as if trying to hold on to you, to life.

“Why was my family not protected by the guards?” Gwayne demanded, his voice shaking with fury. “Rhaenyra... this is her doing! She ordered this! She wanted a son for a son, and now my son lies here, bleeding, because of her!”

Alicent flinched at his words, shaking her head. “Gwayne, please… Rhaenyra… she… she wouldn’t…”

“Wouldn’t she?” Gwayne cut her off, his eyes blazing. “This is her vengeance, Alicent! She ordered this! And for what? For Lucerys? And now my boy suffers because of it!”

You could see the pain in Alicent’s eyes, the realization of the rift that had been torn between her family and yours. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. There was nothing she could say that would bring back the sense of safety you had lost, nothing that could erase the horror of what had been done to your child.

The Maester arrived, his face ashen as he quickly set to work, trying to stop the bleeding, trying to save what remained of your son’s life. Gwayne held you close as the Maester worked, his hands trembling as they gripped your shoulders, his breath ragged in your ear.

“We’ll leave this place,” Gwayne whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “We’ll take our children and leave this cursed place. We’ll go back to Oldtown, where they’ll be safe. I swear it.”

You nodded, unable to speak, your tears falling silently as you clutched your son to your chest, willing him to live, willing the nightmare to end.

But deep down, you knew that nothing would ever be the same. The bond between your families had been shattered, the trust you once held in Rhaenyra, in the Targaryen blood, irreparably broken. You had lost more than just a sense of security that night; you had lost the belief that family could protect you from the darkness of the world.

[fallatyourfeet]

Unbroken (Jon Snow x Reader -One shot)

Summary: Shortly after the Battle of the Bastards, Sansa discovers some unexpected news regarding YN. Jon is thrilled to hear you're alive, but unfortunately, the news is bitter sweet.

Word count: 3234 Sorry (This is a super long one shot for me, I usually try to keep them under 2000 words. But I guess this one got away form me)

Warnings: It's pretty dramatic and angsty. YN has been mistreated by Ramsay. I'm sure you know what that means!

Please feel free to send me a message/comment/ask, I would love to know what you think.

A/N: This fic was a request from @automaticpandadreamer Hope you like it. God knows you've waited long enough

Hello I love your book Northern Light so musch I'm still reading it three years after discovering it. I was was wondering if you could do like a Jon Snow x reader who is from a warrior house that the Starks have known for a long time. Her house get attacked by the Boltons and Ramsy does....Vile things to her as his plaything and she helps Sansa and Theon escape but not before Ramsay lays a huge whipp across her back giving her a scar but after that she meets Jon and she is happy to see jon .

Jon assumed you were dead. It hurt to even think it, but surely Ramsay would never have allowed you to breathe another day, once you helped Sansa and Theon escape. Never for one moment, did he believe he would return to his childhood home, after all these years and hear Sansa speak the words. “She’s alive, Jon… YN’s alive.” Standing in the middle of the courtyard, his knuckles still covered in Ramsay’s blood, Jon found himself overwhelmed by the unexpected and welcomed news, his mind racing with cherished memories.

During his childhood, you were a regular visitor to Winterfell, accompanying your parents for feasts and celebrations and usually staying long after they returned to Bear Island. And they were some of his happiest memories. Wherever you were, Jon was never far behind. The two of you were all but inseparable.  

You were not like other girls. Strong, fierce and surprisingly unpretentious for a highborn. Memories flooded back. Watching you shoot bow after bow perfectly into its target, while his fell uselessly to the ground. Could still remember how quickly you could saddle a horse then tease him playfully for being so slow. How many days had he spent sparring with you in that very courtyard? Snapping and splintering countless wooden swords trying to get the better of you, but you were far too quick for him. And how vividly he could recall Catelyn’s disapproving stares. Never knowing if it was the fact that, you, a trueborn lady of House Mormont was allowed to train as a warrior. Or the fact that you were allowed to train with him, a bastard. Maybe it was both. Or maybe it bothered her to know that you enjoyed his friendship, maybe even valued it above her own children. Whatever the issue, Jon refused to acknowledge it, even as a little child. He would not allow her disapproval to spoil his time with you.

And when you returned to Bear Island the letters began. Parchments covered from back to front in your handwritten script. Sharing your stories, hopes and dreams, filling the void between your infrequent visits. Miles and miles may have separated you, but those letters brought you closer than ever. You were his best friend. No. You weren’t. You were more than that. Much, much more. And up until now he thought he had lost you.

“Where is she?” Jon barely breathed the words, his voice caught with fragile hope… hope that he was not dreaming.

Sansa answered with hesitation, “The Maesters’ Turret.” And when Jon made a move to leave, she grabbed him by the arm, her eyes filled with concern for both YN and her brother. “She’s not in a good way, Jon.”

Jon was silent a moment, unsettled by his sister’s expression, “What do you mean… is she going to be okay?” He was eager to pull away, to see your face, but Sansa didn’t loosen her grip.

Looking across the courtyard Sansa took a breath, her eyes settling on the spot where less than an hour ago Ramsay laid in an unconscious mess beneath Jon’s fists. Turning back to her brother she replied, “Yes. She is going to be okay… but Ramsay he…” Sansa struggled to find the right words, “He has left his mark on her…”

Jon didn’t quite know what she meant, but he knew it wasn’t good. Pulling away from his sister, he wasted no further time, heading straight towards the maester’s turret. He needed to see YN with his own two eyes… needed to see her alive and breathing. Moving through the courtyard his eyes caught sight of Ramsay’s blood, his lips tightening into a hard line as his feet kicked through the crimson dirt. Part of him wishing his fists had drawn Ramsay’s final breath. That man… no… monster, did not deserve to live another day. And if both Sansa and YN didn’t want to take it away themselves, he was more than willing to do it for them

Reaching the turret Maester Wolkan greeted him, but Jon had no time for pleasantries, coming across rather abruptly to the new master of Winterfell, though Jon paid it no thought at all. “Lady YN, how is she… where is she?” Jon’s eyes searched behind him, seeing nothing but a dimly lit room and a shelving unit crowded with apothecary bottles.

Stepping outside the turret doorway Maester Wolkan closed the door behind him, speaking in hushed tones, confirmation that YN was inside.  “Lord Snow, Lady Mormont is currently resting. I have given her milk of the poppy. Lord Ramsay he… he left her in a bad way… this time.”

Jon’s face contorted at the maester’s words, as if the sound of them physically hurt his ears. “What do you mean, this time… what did he do to her?” Jon asked with hesitation, not sure if he was equipped to hear the answer.

Maester Wolkan was a little surprised. Sansa had not long left to find Jon and inform him. Not realising he had given her little chance to explain before leaving her standing in the middle of the courtyard. The maester shifted apprehensively on his feet, not feeling threatened by the former Lord Commander, but rather ill at ease by the intensity of his concern. “Ah… Unfortunately, Lady YN has been here far too often these past months.” Taking a deep breath he continued, “Lord Bolton did not take kindly to her aiding Lady Sansa’s escape.”

Clearing his throat, he grew even more uncomfortable… how was he going to explain the extent of the torture inflicted upon this poor woman, when it was clear the man before him cared deeply for her. “It began with a single lashing the night Sansa escaped,” (leaving out the detail of how brutal that single lashing was; it tore her back wide open), “Ramsay would send her here every day so I could treat her wound, only for him to whip her again the very day it healed.”

Jon’s stomach churned, but he could tell the maester still had more to say. Trying to prepare himself for the next onslaught he took a deep breath, before Wolkan continued, “Every time I would heal her, he would whip her again… but last night, he… he could have killed her… I’ve never seen injuries like it.”

Burning rage twisted at Jon from deep within his core. This animal of a man had repeatedly defiled his sister, murdered Rickon before his very eyes and had been torturing the woman he loved, for months. Not even daring to imagine what other unspeakable things he probably inflicted upon her. Jon could barely think, he needed to see her. Stepping forward he reached for the cast iron latch, the urgency in his features alarming Wolkan, “I’m sorry Lord Snow, she needs to rest… please… come back tomorrow.”

Shaking his head, Jon replied, his hand already opening the door, “No Maester… I’m staying with her until she wakes… I’ll be quiet.”

Entering the turret, it was difficult to see, the room kept dark by heavy drapes drawn across the windows. And yet, immediately Jon felt some relief. He could hear you breathing. It was dry and raspy, but at least it was steady; it was strong. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim candlelight tucked away in the corner. But it was the glow of the hearth flickering around the stone walls that had the air twisting in his chest. It illuminated your form, the shadows rippling across blood-soaked bandages wrapped loosely around your torso. Resting on your stomach, you were so still, eyelids heavy with induced sleep, your hair pinned to the top of your head to keep from interfering with your injuries. The table beside you was a mess of strong-smelling ointments and bandages, while the discarded ones sat overflowing in a bucket underneath, soaked red with your blood.

A wooden chair sat in the corner, but it was not close enough, he needed to be beside you. Moving to grab it, he stopped short when he reached out and noticed his hands. They were covered in dried blood and mud, remnants of the battle that took place outside the castle walls just a few hours earlier. With a deep breath, he realised he needed to clean up just as Maester Wolkan walked in, clearly thinking the same thing.

With fresh towels under his arm and a jug of hot water in his hands, he looked to Jon, “If you’re going to stay, Lord Snow, you’ll need to clean up. Lady YN can’t afford to be exposed to any contaminants.” Putting them down on a table behind a screen, he added, “Your sister is bringing you up a fresh tunic.”

Nodding his head, Jon smiled softly, “Aye. I just realised that myself.” And no sooner had Jon disappeared behind the screen, came the quiet knock at the door announcing the delivery of his tunic.

Settled in the wooden chair beside you, Jon had time to think. The milk of the poppy had given you much needed hours of rest. He could tell you were heavily sedated because you barely murmured or moved when Maester Wolkan changed your dressings. And he thanked the gods. Never had he seen injuries like it. Any previous scarring left behind by Ramsay was indistinguishable, your poor back… it was… it, it didn’t look like a back at all. In the end he had to turn his head away, unable to imagine what anybody could have done to deserve such treatment, let alone you. Jon sighed heavily, if only he had arrived a few days earlier, then maybe he could have saved you the suffering.

Jon thought about everything that brought you to this very room, forever scarred. It was your loyalty to the Starks, his family. When Robb called his banners, you marched beside him into every battle, leaving him thinking you had died along with his brother at the ‘Red Wedding.’ But in the middle of his grief came some sunshine in the form of a letter. It was sealed in the familiar wax stamp of House Mormont and addressed to him in your beautiful script. Yet, clouds quickly swallowed up the sunshine when he took a moment to breathe, his heart sinking as quickly as it had soared. What if the letter had been sent before that fateful night at The Twins? Though his concern was short lived as his shaking hands unravelled the parchment. Your words making it clear that you were alive.

Dear Jon,

I’m sorry to be writing under such dark circumstances, wishing I could fill this page as I did when I was a carefree child, to fill it with stories born of joy and hope, and memories to make us smile, but life hasn’t followed our childhood dreams. Instead, we are faced with grim reality, leaving us feeling hollow and betrayed. Losing Robb at any time was going to be painful but losing him in the manner we did is incomprehensible. The betrayal and disloyalty that took place at The Twins that treasonous evening leaves me enraged.

Somehow, I was sparred. Sheer luck saved me, after leaving the hall just moments before they locked the door, managing to find my horse amongst the slaughter and escape. Our poor men stood no chance, murdered as they sat around fires drinking the very ale offered by their killers. It was an unforgivable and cowardly act that the North will never forget.

Now that I’m home, I pray for days that begin and end with no discernible events, but I fear harder times lie ahead, much harder than I can fathom. The number of Wildings reaching Bear Island increases every week. Not to raid, but to seek refuge, and the stories they bring keep me awake at night. As a brother of the Night’s Watch, I’m sure you’re no stranger to these stories and the fear I see in their eyes troubles me deeply.  

Please know that I think of you often. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been receiving the news of your father’s death and then Robb’s while sworn to the Night’s Watch. Every day, I pray for the safe return of Arya, Bran and Rickon and hope Sansa finds protection under her new Lannister name.

Take care Jon. I will write again soon, hopefully bringing more light in these uncertain times.

Yours 

YN

And your letters continued. Just as you promised. Words reliving cherished memories, furnishing his thoughts with new stories, providing much needed smiles for trying times. Until your final letter arrived. It’s content still as fresh as the day he read it, ‘At first light I will be leaving Bear Island. The Baratheon Army is marching on Winterfell, and I intend to help them take it back from the Boltons.’ And that was the last he heard of you. Leaving him with no other conclusion, than believing you died alongside Stannis’ army when Ramsay defeated them in the Wolfswood. All until Sansa showed up at Castle Black and told him all you had done for her.

Jon had held no hope for your survival, sure that Ramsay would make you pay with your life. And yet, Jon had underestimated the cruelty of the beast, could not comprehend the lengths Ramsay would reach to punish your unyielding loyalty. Realising as he stared at the blood-soaked bandages which held your back together, that the sick monster had taken pleasure in the process. He enjoyed both the physical and mental damage he wreaked.

But here you were, still alive and fighting, defying Ramsay in the most determined and tenacious way. It was almost worth letting Ramsay survive if only to see you grow healthy and strong. To see you unbroken. To see the strength in your eyes as the life disappeared from his.

Pulling Jon from his darkening thoughts, came the soft whisper of his name, “Jon?”

How long had he been sitting there? Jon had no idea. Somewhere amongst his thoughts he must have fallen asleep, noticing the first light of dawn creeping in around the edges of the drapes. Announcing the arrival of a brand-new day.

Fully alert now Jon slid to the edge of his chair, his heart pounding heavily in his chest, reaching out he gently took your hand, his thumb running back and forth across your knuckles. “Yes, YN. It’s me.”

You winced, as you made a move to sit up, though you tried to hide it.

Wincing in sympathy Jon carefully brushed the hair from your eyes, responding tenderly, “Please, don’t move. Stay there. Maester Wolkan has already tried sending me away. He’s worried I won’t let you rest. Don’t give him an excuse to try it again.” Giving your hand a comforting squeeze, he leaned over, his face just a few inches from yours, his voice barely a breath from cracking, “It’s good to see you YN… I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner, before…” Jon’s eyes betrayed him, involuntarily lingering on your back.

Cutting him short, your words were a little groggy, but clearly, your mind was not, “Hush Jon, it wouldn’t have mattered when you arrived. He was always going to react like this.”

Without thinking, Jon asked the question he never meant to ask, at least not for some time, “Why did he do it?” Upset with himself, he tried to take it back, “Sorry YN, I didn’t mean to ask, don’t answer, I don’t know why I- “.

Cutting him short again, you answered without hesitation or regret, “I provoked him when he said he was going to take pleasure watching the bastard of Winterfell die.” Anger flashed across your features as you recalled the moment, defiance rooted deeply in your voice, “I told him this battle would be his last… That you may be a bastard by name, but he is a true bastard in every other sense of the word.”

Jon thought he saw a smile touch your lips, not sure how you found amusement in your current condition, “He didn’t like it when I told him he was going to lose, that soon the flayed banners will be lying in the dirt where they belong.”  You cleared your throat, the action causing you to wince again, “I can still see his rage, him waiting for an apology, for me to beg for my life… But I couldn’t… I just stared back… said, kill me if it makes you feel better… But it will not save you.”

Jon’s heart broke, his guilt intensifying. His lips started forming an apology, but you refused to let him speak the words, knowing exactly what was running through his mind. Despite your discomfort, you took your hand from his, reached for his cheek and spoke, “Stop Jon, don’t you dare apologise. It’s not your fault… he’s a monster. I don’t regret it and if I had the chance I would do it again.” Jon shook his head in disbelief, no one would willingly endure your suffering if they had the choice, but here you were speaking the words. Never had he been more in awe of you.  “I would. I had control in that moment… I won the battle. He didn’t break me, Jon. He couldn’t. I wouldn’t let him. Not once… Not ever.”

Struggling to ignore the heavy lump forming in his throat, he swallowed thickly, forcing himself to remain strong, if only for you. “I don’t know how you did it, YN. You’re stronger than any woman I’ve ever known. Ramsay will pay… pay for everything he has done to you and Sansa. What you did for her, I can’t… I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

Moving your hand from his cheek, you rested your head against the bed, taking his hand your expression softened, your beautiful eyes trying to disguise their pain. Tears gathered behind his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. With a deep breath, you somehow found the strength to smile, “Remember the blue lake I used to talk about when I was little. The volcanic one my father would take me to?”

Jon nodded, a soft smile warming his features, “Of course, you used to talk about it all the time.” Pink touched his cheeks when he recalled, “I still have the picture you drew of it. And the letter you sent it with.”

“Yes, I remember asking if I could take you there one day.” Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, your eyes searched his, looking for something. Something to grab on to or hope for. Something to look forward too. And as you spoke again, he knew he would do everything in his power to give you what you needed. “I know defeating Ramsay Bolton is only the beginning. We have many battles left. But promise me, when we come through the other side of them, you will let me take you there.”

Moving closer, he knelt beside you. You looked so tired and drained and somehow even more beautiful than he remembered. With the greatest care he took your face between his palms, placing a feather light kiss to your forehead, his reply more sincere than any words he had ever spoken. “I promise. But for now, you must rest. Sleep… I’ll still be here when you wake.”

[gremlingottoosilly]

what if the resistance tried to, and somehow failed to kill monster!konigs mate? I know you said they usually do mercy kills but how would Konig react?

If you think you were a prisoner before, you need to rethink your whole freaking existence. You were allowed even too much before - eat outside of your room, follow your monster-husband-owner around, sometimes even explore the base while Konig was away for ten minutes or so, allowing you to stretch your legs just a little...well, it's all gone now. You don't even remember how you got caught by human resistance - you just remember standing there, in the middle of the battle, a bullet passing you only barely. It scrapped your side, dangerously close to the swell of your egg-filled tummy, and Konig thought he might just die on the spot. He can try to convince himself that you don't matter, that he can just ask for the cleaning squad to let his annoying little pet wife disappear after she is no longer useful...but he knows it's false, he is lying to himself, and failing at it. You're his everything - his mate, his pet, his precious incubator, and the most perfect being to ever lay in his nest. When he saw the humans getting their dirty hands on you...god, he wanted nothing more but to ignore the treaty with humans, all the laws about not eradicating humanity as a species, and wedge war against every single one of the fuckers trying to hurt his wife. When you cling to him, barely escaping certain death, he knows he will never let you outside your room again. If you lose the eggs from stress, he wouldn't even care about the clutch - he only cares about you, dumb and trembling in his hands, too freaking fragile to even think about resisting or escaping anymore. If eggs are safe inside, he almost wants to stop breeding you like this, putting you in such a dummied-out fragile state that you can't even resist attackers trying to kill you. This incident is forcing Konig to finally confront his feelings about you - and to hell with any of his subordinates who think that pamper and coddle your pet humans is too unmanly. He will bathe you with gifts and best nest materials, even allow you to wear clothes to hide the wounds while you're still sensitive...

[kodasmind]

Unexpected Allies pt 2

The Fight for Respect

**Rhea Ripley x Reader x Damian Priest**

The arena was electric with excitement as Damian Priest stepped into the ring for his match against Carlisto. The crowd roared as the bell rang, signaling the start of the bout. Damian and Carlisto exchanged powerful blows, their movements swift and precise. After a grueling back-and-forth, Damian managed to land his finishing move, securing the pinfall victory.

The crowd erupted into cheers as Damian stood tall, raising his arms in celebration. He soaked in the adulation, his focus momentarily on the audience and the adrenaline coursing through him. However, the mood in the arena quickly shifted as JD McDonagh, Finn Bálor, Liv Morgan, and Dominik Mysterio stormed down the ramp, their expressions filled with malice.

The crowd’s cheers turned into a chorus of boos as JD, Finn, Liv, and Dom surrounded the ring. Without hesitation, they attacked Damian, who was still celebrating his hard-fought win. Finn and JD pummeled Damian, while Liv and Dom joined in, their assault merciless and coordinated.

From the backstage area, you and Rhea Ripley watched the scene unfold on a monitor. Without a second thought, you both bolted towards the ring, determined to help Damian. As you reached the ring, the chaotic scene grew even more intense.

Liv had just delivered a brutal kick to Damian’s ribs when you and Rhea slid under the ropes. You immediately engaged Liv, tackling her and pulling her away from Damian. Rhea, eyes blazing with anger, made a beeline for Dom and JD.

Rhea’s fury was palpable as she charged at Dom. Dom barely had time to react as Rhea grabbed him, lifting him with ease. She was about to deliver a Riptide, her signature move, when Liv, having recovered from your earlier attack, rushed to Dom’s aid. Liv managed to intercept Rhea, shoving her aside and causing Rhea to lose her grip on Dom.

“Stay away from him!” Liv shouted as she squared off against Rhea, the two women glaring at each other.

You, meanwhile, were locked in a fierce struggle with Liv, keeping her occupied and preventing her from interfering further. The crowd's cheers were a mix of support for Damian and excitement over the unexpected melee.

Damian, using the chaos to his advantage, managed to push JD and Finn off him. He staggered to his feet, clearly exhausted but determined. With a furious look, he joined the fray, aiding you and Rhea against the combined forces of Dom, Liv, JD, and Finn.

Rhea and you worked together with a fierce intensity, each move calculated to take down the attacking group. Rhea delivered a series of powerful strikes, pushing Dom and Finn back. You used your agility to keep Liv and JD at bay, your focus sharp as you fought alongside Rhea.

Despite the odds, the combined effort of you, Rhea, and Damian began to turn the tide. JD and Finn, realizing they were outnumbered and overpowered, started to retreat. Dom and Liv, caught off guard by the unexpected alliance, followed suit, scrambling up the ramp to escape the chaos.

As the attackers fled, you and Rhea stood alongside Damian in the center of the ring. Damian, breathing heavily but clearly relieved, glanced at both of you with gratitude.

“Thanks for the help,” Damian said, his voice tinged with exhaustion. “I didn’t expect the cavalry to show up.”

Rhea, still catching her breath, gave a nod of acknowledgment. “Just doing what needed to be done. We’re not letting them get away with this.”

You met Damian’s gaze, your expression resolute. “Consider it a temporary truce. Next time, we might be on opposite sides again.”

Damian gave a small smile, clearly appreciative of the support. “Got it. Let’s take this victory for now.”

As the arena’s lights dimmed and the crowd's cheers began to settle, you, Rhea, and Damian stood together in the ring. The unexpected alliance, forged in the heat of battle, had made a powerful statement. Despite the tensions that still lingered, the night had proven that sometimes, even the most unlikely allies could come together in the face of adversity.

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Chapter 7

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

Trying to balance good writing with getting out chapters quickly so bare with me!

Content warnings - violence and death, cursing

“It’s a clock!” Katniss exclaims. “Wiress, you’re a genius!”

Katniss explains to the group how the arena works, making you realize that you running into the tribute during the lightning was just a coincidence, and the lightning didn’t always mean danger.

The group decides to go to the cornucopia to survey the arena and test their theory. You would like to grab a weapon but you don’t know if that’s allowed. Katniss already confiscated the arrow she shot you with so all you have is a weak arm and an injured arm.

Finnick walks between you and Peeta, with Katniss behind him. You really need to earn her trust back if you’re going to stay with the group, although, you don’t know how much she trusted you to begin with.

Katniss and Peeta warily eye you as you look through the weapons, trying to find a knife or two. Too many large weapons will just slow you down. You’d rather just have a few knives on you.

“She’s fine,” you hear Finnick tell the pair. “It’s safer for us that she is armed in case we get attacked. She’s already told me she doesn’t want to kill you so I doubt she’ll throw any knives your way. She knows the difference between doing damage in a fight and killing. Just give her space and don’t act so on edge around her. She’s doing her best.”

Katniss lowers her bow but doesn’t make any move to distance herself from you. It seems like the guarding followed you from the capital to the arena.

The group sits down as Peeta draws a map of the arena. Wiress goes down to the water to clean off some wire Beetee got that you assume is for his big smart plan.

“Did you see anything where you went?” Finnick asks you. You shake your head and just point at the lightning Peeta drew on the map.

“Just lightning?” he confirms and you nod your head. Looking at the map, you’re glad you only ended up with lightning. The rest of the jungle looks terrifying.

The group begins chatting about birds in mines when you hear a sudden gasp. You all turn to see Gloss slitting Wiress’ throat. If the capital wanted you to act feral, they were about to get a show.

It happened so fast. Katniss shot Gloss before Johanna threw an axe into Cashmere, killing her instantly. You noticed Brutus and Enobaria going for Finnick and Katniss but you were too far away to stop the knife Enobaria threw from sinking into Finnick thigh. She’s dead.

You charge at her, screaming like a wild animal. She seems ready for your attack, however, and positions herself for your oncoming blow. You collide with her, sending both of you to the ground.

There’s no time to reach for the blade tucked into your belt. You claw at her face, drawing blood, as she attempts to push you off her. She’s successful in rolling the two of you over, putting herself on top. You go to grab for a knife when her teeth sink into your wrist, shooting pain through your whole body. It’s a shock she didn’t bite your whole hand off.

That’s when the cornucopia starts spinning. Enobaria leaps off of you and tries her best to escape with Brutus while the rest of the group is caught off guard by the movement. You clutch onto the rocks with your good arm but you can feel yourself slipping.

Katniss falls off the same time you do, sending both of you into the water. Even with your bad arm, you’re still a better swimmer, so when the water calms you’re able to orient yourself.

You spot Katniss struggling to find the surface a few yards away from you, so you dive back under and swim to her. Bracing yourself for human contact, you grab her arm and start propelling her to the surface. It takes her a second to realize you’re helping, especially with the amount of blood you’re releasing into the water, but she swims with you till you reach air again.

Peeta helps her out of the water, checking to make sure she’s ok. You do your best to pull yourself up but you’re in too much pain. Finnick takes notice and grabs onto you, yanking you onto the rocks.

He doesn’t even have to say what you’re thinking. The bite looks bad. It’s hard to tell if Enobaria punctured the vein in your wrist but you think she did due to the amount it’s bleeding.

“Johanna,” Finnick calls. “Do we have any bandages left?”

“Nope,” she shouts. “The only ones we had went to Volts.”

“Shit,” he mutters, trying to figure out what to do. He uses your knife to cut the arm off your wetsuit, apologizing that he had to cut yours as his was destroyed by the fog. He wraps the fabric tightly around your wrist, trying to stop the bleeding.

“This should work until we can get some sponsors to send us something better,” he states. You shake your head at him. Sponsors wouldn’t send you anything. You were on your own.

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[nataliasquote]

I Know What You Are | n romanoff

Summary: The bane of Natasha’s existence had finally slipped up but when sent to eliminate her, feeling get in the way far too easily.

Warnings: blood, weapons, character death (oops), angst with no happy ending :)

wc: 5.9k (I got really carried away!)

note: this is part 2 of the ideas that were given to me by @katyaromanoffpetrova so thank you love ❤️ this was fun

-⧗-

“I’ve got your six,” a familiar voice crackled through the redhead’s earpiece. She rolled her shoulders back and adjusted her grip on her gun, eyes darting across the smoke covered landscape that loomed before her. They’d picked a good vantage point but it was far too exposed for the assassin’s liking.

Natasha turned away from the edge and nodded to Clint, who’s arrow was already strung in his bow, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. Her flash of red hair was the last thing he saw before she disappeared down the dark stairwell and back out onto the street.

“How long are we going to be circling like this, Nat?” Clint asked, a little out of breath as he finally caught up to his partner. Her eyes were distant, darting between the loosened bricks of the wall they were currently hiding behind. “Are you sure she’s here?”

“She is, I can feel it.” The echoes of gunfire and explosions rattled through their skulls, although the assassins were quite deaf to it now. Clint more than Nat. They clearly weren’t the only ones disturbed by the actions of one woman and her organisation.

A particularly loud bang went off nearby and Clint winced, his hand flying up to the hearing aid in his right ear. Natasha would have sent her best friend a sympathetic look if something hadn’t caught her eye across the desolate square.

A flash of silver, glinting in the orange sunlight as golden hour descended across the war zone.

“Got her.” Natasha scrambled up from her place and raced after the dark figure, her movements as silent and deadly as the night. Frustration spurred her onwards. This woman had been the source of Shield’s stress for months, but that was all about to end.

Her target’s preferred methods rather intrigued Natasha, who was all about efficiency when it came to killing. Guns were always in her arsenal, widow bites too. Her thighs often felt empty without a full holster. But the mystery woman never touched a gun. She was a master with a blade, stabbing and slashing her enemies with a brutal grace, silently dancing across the battlefield leaving disaster in her wake.

She was a free spirit, which drove Natasha mad. No one should be allowed this amount of freedom with her track history and there was no way Natasha was going to return to Shield empty handed. Not today.

The cacophony of noise ceased suddenly and Natasha felt Clint’s presence on the rooftop to her right. The hazy air was still so Natasha stuck to the shadows, the rough brick pressing through the fabric on her suit as she skulked around a corner.

But a sharp pain struck the back of her knee and she collapsed to the ground, a grunt of pain escaping her chapped lips.

A five inch blade thrown with horrifying accuracy had lodged itself in her upper calf ,only inches away from her knee. The pain was nauseating, but Natasha barely had a chance to properly process it before two dust covered boots stepped into her eyeline. With another grunt, she looked up at the figure before her, determined not to show pain on her face.

Her icy glare was met with a mask-covered face, one she knew well. The black mask was made of hard plastic and resembled two hands that covered the wearer’s mouth and nose - basically a muzzle. But playfully glinting eyes peaked over it and it was obvious they were paired with a smirk. Gloved hands twirled a knife, almost daring Natasha to step up and attack. But the redhead had been knocked off her game by those very eyes that taunted her.

She knew them…

Too well.

She used to love them. And as those gloved hands moved to slowly lift the mask from her face, Natasha felt her heart fall into the pit of her stomach.

“Y/n?” She dared to ask, voice barely above a whisper. She got no reply, but the subtle tensing of her opponent’s muscles told her all she needed to know. Fate was laughing at her. The woman she thought had been ripped away from her when they were teenagers was now towering above her, forcing suppressed memories of the Red Room to come crashing down onto both women, leaving them breathless.

This moment of hesitation was all Clint needed to fire, but Y/n was one step ahead. She’d seen him on the roof and knew what he was waiting for, so by the time his arrow had implanted itself into the wall, she had disappeared into the smoke, leaving Natasha alone. The knife in her leg and the rubble indenting her skin did nothing to shake her from her mind, still staring into the empty space where the woman had just been.

Clint came rushing over and dropped to his knee to inspect Natasha’s wounds. He didn’t dare address how much his best friend looked like she’d seen a ghost, pale face and wide eyes and not just from blood loss.

“Cmon, we have to get out here.” He hooked his arms under hers and tried to get her to stand, but Natasha was far too spaced out too even notice what he was trying to do. But Clint’s main concern was the knife. He couldn’t pull it out lest she bled out before they made the jet, but Natasha couldn’t exactly walk far either.

He propped her up against the wall and lightly tapped her face a few times, her green eyes shooting back to his.

“Where did she go?” She asked, suddenly breathless.

“I really don’t know. But you need to get to medical, Nat. We have to let her go.”

“I knew her. Oh my god, I knew her, Clint. Why is she here?” Clint didn’t know how to answer. Part of him thought she was just rambling nonsense from the bloodloss, but a small part of him knew she was making sense. And it didn’t take a genius to figure out where they knew each other from.

“We’ll figure it out when we’re back.” His eyes widened as Natasha’s hand gravitated to the knife lodged in her calf. He reached for her hands, holding them up and away from her injury.

“Clint,” she warned, trying to pull her hands away. “Let me pull it out and we can go after her.”

Clint had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Natasha’s stubbornness was infuriating sometimes. “That’s not gonna happen. She’s gone, Nat, and you need medical attention. Fury wouldn’t be impressed if you bled out from a knife wound.”

Natasha glared at him but stopped struggling and allowed him to help her limp back to the jet. They’d parked on the rooftop of an abandoned warehouse, so the stairs were a killer. Natasha’s lip bled from how hard she was biting it to muffle her cries of pain.

But the moment she sank down into her seat, memories flooded her mind, both positive and negative, but all involving Y/n. She wasn’t fifteen years old anymore with eyes full of hope, but the same spark was still there, one Natasha had fallen in love with.

What had happened to her?

~~~

The low clunk of a heavy metal door echoed through the chamber, three pairs of footsteps following suit. A female assassin, flanked by two guards, made her way to the centre of the room, her mask resting loosely between her fingers as her eyes remained fixed on the cracks in the concrete floor. The lighting was harsh, yellow bulbs buzzing, making her eye twitch.

Hushed voices became silent as she was presented before them and Y/n knew what was about to happen. She’d lived this day a thousand times.

“Agent,” one of the men called out, his voice gruff. “Mission report.”

“There was an ambush. I could not complete the mission, Sir.” Her eyes remained at her feet but she felt the air in the room shift and the guards beside her tense up. No one failed a mission in Hydra.

A pair of boots approached her and stopped only inches away. A calloused hand firmly gripped her chin and tilted her head up to the light, fingers bruising the skin on her jaw. “We taught you not to fail,” he spat, jerking his hand to emphasise his words. Y/n didn’t flinch. “All of your training, everything we’ve done for you and this is how you repay us?”

“There was a complication.”

He jerked her jaw again, forcing her to look him in the eye. “What complication?”

“The Avengers were there. I couldn’t-”

The sound of a fist slamming on a metal table made her jump and her mask clattered to the ground. The Avengers were a sore spot, and judging by the amount of Russian curse words intermingled with the Avengers’ name in only a few sentences, that hadn’t changed in the three days she’d been gone.

The agent in front of her returned to the group and Y/n finally took a breath, readjusting her jaw after its rough treatment. Although she worked willingly for Hydra, Y/n wasn’t that bothered with keeping track of exactly who they hated each week. She just did as she was told and breathed through the punishments that followed after. Work was work, unfortunately for her, and Hydra provided food and a roof over her head. Luxuries, as far as she was concerned.

A door opened to her right and she watched from the corner of her eye as a figure slipped through, sticking to the shadowed walls on instinct. The glint of a metal arm gave her a weird sense of peace and she turned to meet his eyes, his gaze softening as he looked at her.

“Soldat,” Pierce called, finally rising from his chair after staying silent for so long. He smiled slyly at Y/n who only ignored him. “Take our prized possession to the training room and make sure she never fails again. Use whatever measures you have to.” He directed his orders at Bucky who clenched his metal fist and grabbed Y/n/s forearm, dragging her out of the room.

Neither spoke a word until they reached the training room, just as dark and cold as the rest of the facility. You’d think an organisation like Hydra would have the funds to buy some decent light bulbs. All this yellow light was on Y/n’s last nerve.

Bucky threw her down onto the mats and stood with his arms behind his back as he watched the woman try to get her breath back. He didn’t intend to wind her, but the cameras in every corner were monitored so he couldn’t go easy on her.

“Sorry,” he muttered, his hair swinging beside his face and hiding his lips from view. Y/n waved him off and climbed to her feet, bringing her fists up to her face and setting her feet in a fighting stance. The cameras had no audio, so as long as they fought and he got a good few punches in, no one would suspect anything different.

“Don’t. Just hit me.” They circled each a few times, blocking a couple of punches but nothing major until Bucky grabbed Y/n’s arm and trapped her in a headlock, squeezing just tight enough that her airways were constricted. She tapped out and regained her position before they fought again, this time with her sending a few hits to his stomach.

“I need to ask you about something,” Y/n said through gritted teeth, deflecting a series of punches. Bucky grunted, which was his way of saying ‘go ahead’. “You know when you saw Steve for the first time since… you know, how did you handle it?”

Something shifted behind his eyes at the mention of his old best friend and he sent a strong left hook towards Y/n’s jaw, metal colliding with the bone with a crack. Her head whipped to the side and she let out a cry of pain, palm coming up to cradle her cheek. Bucky just watched for a moment before pulling her in front of him and forcing her to fight. They both hated this, but Y/n’s punishment would be ten times worse if he didn’t get enough good hits in. And Y/n preferred to be bruised by him than some old guard with unbridled rage and unchecked anger issues. Not a good mix.

“Was that not the right thing to ask?” How she could joke with a cracked cheekbone and bruised ribs was beyond Bucky, but humour seemed to be her preferred coping mechanism so he let her at it.

“It’s fine.” His words were more of a grumble than anything, but Y/n was used to that. He wanted to help, but you had to read deep between the lines. “I smashed several helicopters and almost killed him.” Wasn’t quite the response Y/n was expecting, or needed, really. “But they did brainwash me so I don’t suppose that helps.”

“Well, kind of?” Bucky narrowed his eyes and ducked, avoiding a punch before sending a kick to the back of Y/n’s knees. She wobbled but stayed upright, kicking him in the ribs to buy herself a couple of seconds of breathing time.

“Why do you ask? Did you see him?” It wasn’t hope that interjected his words, but Y/n noticed a flicker of something she couldn’t place a finger on.

“No, but I saw someone who reminded me of the same thing. Someone I thought I’d lost.” Natasha’s eyes, full of recognition and aspiration filled her mind and for a moment she faltered, lost in the dizzying memory, encapsulated by a flaming halo of hair. The scar in her eyebrow, her full lips, the ash that had settled on her black tactical suit; all flooding back and hitting Y/n like a truck.

She barely realised she was on the ground until she felt Bucky pin her arms above her head. She just stared into his eyes, a crease between her brows, unable to shake Natasha from her mind. Bucky watched her for a second before slapping her across the face.

“I’m sorry. Again.” He helped her to her feet. “But if they find out you know someone on the other side, they’ll do it to you too.” She’d watched many of his brainwashing sessions and even supervised when he’d come out of cryofreeze and none of it looked the slightest bit appealing. “I don’t want that for you.” She was the only good thing about this place and for his own sanity, he couldn’t lose her too.

“They couldn’t do that to me,” she said with a cocky smirk, her eyebrows quirking upwards. “I’m too valuable. Besides, Natalia won’t forget me again and would probably go on a killing spree if that happened.” Bucky shot her a look. “You’re right. That’s more my style.”

Bucky rolled his eyes slightly, unable to smile at her words. He was supposed to be an emotionless killer - they couldn’t know he had a soft spot for her.

“Luckily for you, you won’t see her again,” he said, swiping her legs from underneath her and sending her crashing to the floor. She scowled and scrambled up, jumping to wrap her thighs around his head in an attempt to bring him down. “It’s better that way.”

“Who says I won’t?” Y/n used her momentum to swing herself around, feeling his hands grip her thighs. “I want- I have to see her again. So I will.”

Successfully flooring him with an ‘a-ha’, Y/n straddled his waist and held her forearm to his throat. But she didn’t expect him to suddenly flip them both and mirror her actions, pushing her down into the thin mats and letting the cold seep through her suit as he held her there.

“So what, you’re going to kidnap her?”

Unbothered by her compromised position, Y/n just smirked, relaxing her body as she accepted defeat. “Who said anything about kidnapping?”

~~~

“Natasha, it’s a trap.” Clint was trying to talk some sense into his best friend, who was clearly having none of it.

“You think I don’t know that?” She gave him a look and returned to fixing her belt. “I’m prepared for this, so please stop stressing.”

“Oh, well forgive me for being sceptical seeing as the last time you encountered her she threw a knife into your knee,” Clint remarked with his arms folded over his chest. Natasha just rolled her eyes and stood up, adjusting her collar.

“I’m going to be ok,” she reassured, although her words fell on deaf ears. “I know who I’m dealing with.”

Clint looked into her eyes for a moment, trying to find a hint of doubt behind her bright green irises. But he found nothing but confidence, as usual. “But, do you?”

Whether it was part of her plan, no one knew, but Natasha walked straight into the trap with her head held high. It was easy, too easy. Natasha knew it, Y/n knew it. Yet that changed nothing. The blindfold was tugged from her eyes and she blinked, trying to adjust the dim light above her. The bulb only cast a small pool of light that spread not far from her chair, plunging the rest of the room into an eerie darkness. There was no sound, no gunfire or wind howling, and no windows as far as she could see. But her assessment of her surroundings was cut short when a figure stepped into view.

A small woman, slim, but muscular and toned enough to make it known that she could take down anyone of any size. Her posture was impeccable and she balanced a small blade between her fingers as if it were a feather and not a deadly weapon. Her lips curled into a smile, but it wasn’t all that inviting or warm. The yellowy light cast shadows across her face as she observed her hostage for a few seconds.

“I thought interrogations were supposed to be your thing, Natalia.” The way her old name dripped off her tongue was like sweet honey and Natasha clenched her jaw, eyes fixed on the woman prowling in front of her. Sure, she could get out of the ties around her wrists, but something kept her there. A desire to learn more about her. “You gave up pretty easily.”

“You know damn well I didn’t give up,” she spat, glaring up at the woman who was now standing so close their legs brushed. “I came willingly.”

“Oh I know,” the woman said with a smile, tracing the sharpness of the redhead’s jaw with her knife. “You can’t resist me.” Her Russian accent was thick and had Natasha completely transfixed. The tip of the knife trailed down to her collarbones so gently. “I didn’t think it would take years though.”

“I knew where you were.” Not exactly a lie - she’d been tracking Y/n’s work for years. She just didn’t know it was Y/n behind the killing sprees and assassinations.

“You break my heart.” There was a mischievous sparkle behind her eyes and it frustrated Natasha to no end. “Guess you thought you were too good for me now, huh? All caught up in your Avengers business and no time left for me.” She pouted like a child.

Natasha looked up at the dim light above her head before answering. It was cliche really, tied to a chair in the middle of a damp room with only a single string bulb as a light source. But the woman before her was far more calculated than she ever let on, so Natasha knew it was part of some much bigger plan.

“Well I can’t exactly have a coffee with the enemy,” she said sarcastically. “The Avengers would take you in if you stopped murdering people for no reason.”

“Ha!” She spat out, turning back around to face Natasha, her knife spinning casually between her fingers. “Avengers. What a pathetic excuse for an organisation. You think they mean well, and that’s just adorable really.”

“They’re not pathetic.” If there was one thing Natasha was protective about, it was her family. “Take a look at who you work for, you’ll find some pretty pathetic business going on there.”

Y/n’s eyes darkened. “Hydra is not stupid. At least our scientists actually do something useful instead of pottering about building metal suits.” A jab at Tony Stark. Classy.

“Yeah sure, if you call illegal human experimentation ‘useful’.”

Y/n let out a soft laugh. “Don’t get all big and bossy with me,” she replied, watching as Natasha’s stony expression cracked slightly. “The twins signed themselves up, I did nothing.”

“You lured them in.”

“What can I say, I’m irresistible.” She winked at Natasha and disappeared into the shadows, leaving a very disgruntled redhead alone.

To say she was the most annoying person Natasha had ever met was a severe understatement. That woman got under her skin and just festered there, and no amount of focus would ever make her go away.

Whether she was knocked out or drugged, Natasha didn’t know, but when she next woke the room was a lot brighter and her hands were no longer tied behind her back. Y/n sat opposite her, the same blade laying flat in her palm.

“Took you long enough.” This wasn’t the same place as before and Natasha reached for her belt, wanting to feel protected. “Don’t. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“That’s reassuring, considering you kidnapped me.”

Y/n finally looked up and scoffed, pushing her chair back so it scraped harshly across the wooden floorboards. “I did not kidnap you. We went over this Natalia. You came willingly.”

“And then you tied me up.” Natasha gestured to her wrists, now free of course.

“What can I say, I’m into that kind of thing.”

Natasha sighed. This was her chance. She wasn’t restrained, Y/n seemed relaxed and no one else was around. She could save a lot of lives, and her own ass by killing Y/n now. But somehow she couldn’t shake the memory of all the stolen kisses and touches they’d shared within the icy confines of the Red Room. How that young girl had been through so much and yet still felt so familiar sitting in the chair opposite.

“Y/n,” she started, switching her approach completely. “What happened to you?” The woman looked up, eyes dark, scanning across every inch of the redhead’s face.

“Why would you care anyway?” Her witty sarcasm was gone, replaced by a steel wall behind her eyes that fully blocked Natasha out. The redhead plagued her mind and tugged at the knot in her stomach, but she refused to let it win.

“You were there, and then you left. And I never knew why.”

“No. I didn’t leave. You did, Natalia.” Her tone was accusatory as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “You left me alone in that place and you let them take me.”

“I didn’t leave you. They told me you got out, escaped, so I asked to go on more missions. I couldn’t bear it there without you.” Natasha’s voice dropped on the last few words, almost scared to admit her feelings out loud. How could she? The woman she swore to love for the rest of her life had broken her heart to the point where she had never loved anyone since.

“And you believed what they told you?” Natasha said nothing. “Somehow you manage to escape and you don’t come looking for me. We had a promise, Natalia. No matter what, we’d find each other. What happened to that?” Y/n was no longer a deadly Hydra agent gripping the handle of her knife like she was ready to send it flying into a target. No. She was a little girl again, holding onto promises as the last sign of hope in her life. Holding onto Natasha’s pinky finger with her own like their lives depended on it.

Noticing that Natasha didn’t want to break the silence, she continued. “Do you know how hard it is to find work with our skill set? For the ‘good guys’, I mean. You got lucky.” There was a hint of resentment in her words and it hit Natasha in the stomach. “When you tell people you’re an assassin for hire, they usually want to throw you into a penitentiary or shoot you dead right there and then. I had no choice.”

“If you knew where I was, then why didn’t you come and find me?”

Y/n hesitated for a moment. “You didn’t need me ruining what you’ve already got here.” This amount of vulnerability made Y/n’s skin crawl, but all her usual standards seemed to fly out of the window when Natasha was around. It had done ever since they were barely teenagers, soft lips pressed against each other in the gentlest of kisses. The fear of getting caught was worthless when compared to the comfort they had found within each other. “Besides, if I went after an Avenger, we’d both be dead.”

“They gave me a second chance, they would give you one too. You just have to prove it.” Natasha rose from her seat and joined the other woman who had moved to look out of the water-damaged window. “I can see how much you hate it, Y/n.”

“Hate what?”

“Working for Hydra. I can see it.”

Her grip tightened around her knife and Natasha took a step back. “No, they gave me everything.” But her words weren’t as convincing as she intended them to be, her lack of will to live and keep fighting catching up with her. “I owe them everything.”

“But Shield can give you more. You deserve to have something good.” Natasha squared her shoulders and reached out to place a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “No more pain, no more manipulation. You get to call the shots, make your own decisions.” Y/n wasn’t convinced. “We’d get a second chance too.” Her nose scrunched slightly, unable to gauge how Y/n would respond to her last words.

Y/n looked down at her hands, avoiding Natasha’s gaze and trying not to focus on how comforting her touch felt. She stared at the blood that had dried under her fingernails. It never seemed to fade, no matter how hard she scrubbed. She wanted so desperately to run, leave her problems behind like she’d always done. But part of her clung onto the prospect of a second chance with Natalia - she’d craved her warmth for over a decade.

Natasha saw the conflict flicker behind the woman’s eyes, a stark contrast to the sarcastic and confident front she’d put on only hours before. She was exhausted, anyone could see that and Natasha knew all too well what it was like to want to stop running. To stop fighting for other people and start fighting for yourself.

“Why are you doing this? I thought you came here to kill me?” Y/n’s eyes turned icy and she pulled her body away from Natasha, distancing herself once again. But the emotion in her voice couldn’t be masked, and it made Natasha’s expression soften.

“I made a different call.”

Y/n bit her lip, the knife between her fingers spinning rapidly but controlled. “I don’t deserve this second chance, Natalia. Just do what you came to do, earn yourself some more brownie points for the boss.” Her jaw clenched and Natasha pulled her gun from the holster. But instead of firing it, she simply slid it along the dusty floorboards, along with her belt full of weapons. Y/n scoffed at her actions, holding her knife as firmly as she could, but the tremble in her fingers gave her away. She didn’t mean this. Any of it.

“Well that was stupid.”

But her movements were suddenly halted. The door to Natasha’s left crashed down and three figures burst in, firing shots at Y/n before Natasha had a chance to protest. They’d seen the knife and reacted, ignoring the way Natasha yelled at them. The women threw themselves down onto the ground, Natasha shielding Y/n’s body with her own.

“Stand down!” She yelled, holding Y/n against the floor whilst turning over her shoulder. Steve, Clint and Sam stood in the doorway, weapons aimed and pointing at the assassins on the floor. “I didn’t signal anything!”

“You’d been gone for hours Nat, we had no choice. Fury gave the order.” Natasha ignored Clint’s words as Y/n groaned beneath her. Their weapons were still aimed at the Hydra agent despite Natasha’s glare.

The redhead slowly removed her hands and went to help Y/n sit up, but then she noticed the blood. It was visible even through her dark suit and Y/n gingerly pressed her hand to her stomach before pulling it away with a frown.

“I don’t know if we’ll get that second chance, Natalia,” she whispered, looking up at terrified green eyes. “You’ll have to do it on your own.”

“No, don’t say that.” Natasha replaced Y/n’s hands and began to press down on the wound, muttering her apologies as Y/n whined in pain. “You’re going to be ok.”

‘I want to be good, Natalia. I really wanted to be good.” Her words were strained as blood continued to pour from her wounds, coating Natasha’s hands instantly.

“I know, Y/n, I know. You will be, just stay with me please.” She pressed down harder, tears blurring her vision as she felt blood pooling beneath her palms. No one was listening to her cries for help- why weren’t they listening?

Y/n weakly grabbed Natasha’s wrist and pulled her hands off her wound, shaking her head at Natasha’s protests. She could taste metal on her tongue and the redhead’s face faded in and out of focus as she tried to shakily cup her cheek.

“Natalia-”

“No!” Natasha’s lip trembled and she shook her head frantically, pulling her hand away from Y/n/s grip. “You’re not leaving me now, I swear to god. You can be good, I know you can.” Y/n smiled weakly, barely conscious now as blood trickled from her lips. “Please, I just got you back! I can’t lose you again.”

“You won’t lose me, I’ll always be here.” Her nose scrunched up at how cheesy it sounded as she reached her hand up to point to Natasha’s chest. “Right here.”

“No, no, no. Don’t talk like that! You’re not giving up on me, Y/n. Pain only makes you stronger, come on!” She was just spewing words now, her sentences all jumbled and barely making sense as she pressed down on the wound. Y/n smiled up at her and tried to squeeze her thigh where her hand rested. But the energy in her body was fading fast and she could do nothing but look Natasha in the eyes in her final moments, wanting to memorise that specific colour one last time.

When her hand slipped to the floor with a thud, Natasha’s heart stopped. An eerie silence fell across the room, the feeling of death weighted like a blanket. The redhead didn’t make a sound, her sobs silent despite the tears trickling down her flushed cheeks. A stark contrast to her pale skin.

“No,” she shakily whispered, pushing Y/n’s hair back out of her face with a bloodied hand. “I’m sorry.” She cupped her bruised cheek and brushed her thumb over it, finally feeling her skin under her hand for the first time in years. It wasn’t as soft as she remembered, years worth of scars destroying the surface, but it was still perfect to her all the same.

Tears mixed with the blood and created a watery mixture that dripped down off Y/n’s chin and into the collar of her suit. Natasha dropped her head to rest on the other woman’s chest, hands moving to grip her shoulders tightly as though she might disappear. The redhead kept muttering apologies, wanting to make up for all the time they’d lost, even if it was fruitless.

The three men in the doorway shifted uncomfortably, the scene before them an unexpected one. “Natasha-“ Clint began, taking a step towards the redhead.

“What did you do?” Her voice was dangerously low and she slowly turned around, Y/n’s hand now clasped in hers. “Look what you did!”

Sam and Steve hung their heads, not wanting to see anymore of the dead woman across the room. Clint was just focused on his distraught best friend, who’s hands now matched the colour of her hair.

“Nat, we need to go-“

“Then go,” she spat. “I’m not leaving her.”

Clint let out a sigh and slung his bow over his shoulder. He gestured to Steve to help, who looked rather uncomfortable but followed anyway. “Well bring her with us-“

“What, so you can parade her in front of Fury and show off? Yes, well done, target eliminated! You don’t touch her!” Natasha was clawing and kicking as Steve pulled her to her feet. She held onto Y/n’s hand for as long as possible before Clint gently tugged it free, triggering an outburst from Natasha.

She was a mess of limbs, uncharacteristically uncoordinated as she struggled against Steve’s body as he guided her out of the room, practically carrying her as she refused to walk. The whole time she screamed out for Y/n, her voice growing more hoarse by the second. She took no interest in her surroundings, the dimly lit stairwell not even registering in her mind. All her spy training had completely vanished.

She was placed onto one of the benches in the jet and she watched, a shaking mess, as Clint placed Y/n’s limp body on the floor opposite, blood no longer pouring from her stomach. Natasha stayed frozen in her seat, knees pulled up to her chest as a defence mechanism. She didn’t care that there was blood on her hands, nor that it transferred onto her cheek when she wiped her nose. No, she didn’t care about anything except the woman lying in front of her.

The lifeless woman.

She wanted to scream but it was as if all the emotions had drained out of her body like a flood. She was numb, just staring with empty eyes, the light behind them barely flickering now. Clint shot worried glances in her direction once the jet was in the sky, and Steve and Sam stayed well away, not wanting to fall under the wrath of an extremely angry and emotional Natasha.

Not that she cared what the others did. She just wanted the one thing she couldn’t have. Fate had shown her time and time again that it was not on her side, but this truly was her final straw. There was no fixing this.

They had found and lost each other within the space of a months. But this time there were no second chances. It was set in stone, just like Y/n’s name would be for the rest of time.

Maybe, in another lifetime, they would finally meet again.

Maybe, in another universe, Natasha Romanoff could truly be happy.

[redflagshipwriter]

Cupid is Wanted: Chapter five

Masterpost

Damian felt himself go still, a hunting dog reacting to something not yet seen. Brown noticed his tension and her eyes hardened.

Faintly, the car garage door began to hoist itself open.

Impossible. Who could have returned to the Manor? Who suspected them?

“Quickly!”

The two scrambled to erase the evidence of their time in the VHS room and to return to their sickened posting. Damian straightened the rug, turned off the light, and hastily snatched up a pillow that had been dragged over from their sickroom. “Come on, come on,” Brown muttered, hands out to receive the tape from the machine. She turned off the television as soon as it was in her hands.

The front door unlocked.

They flung themselves down the hallway in professional, panicked silence.

Down six doors, down one floor, and then into the first doorway. Damian tucked and rolled onto the sofa. Brown was in the air, a blonde rocket over the back of the sofa and onto his side. “Move your behind-“ he hissed, until she elbowed him in the gut and cut off his ability to speak with an oof.

“This was my sofa,” Brown argued back. “Before we left. You move!” She squirmed into a more tactical position.

“Unhand me!”

They were full-on wrestling by the time the hallway creaked with the weight of a step. Damian could not afford the leisure to look up. They were shamefully well matched in size and musculature, as Brown was a hulking beast of a gym rat girl at 5’6” and Damian was still waiting for his expected growth spurt.

“…Resting well?” Damian craned his gaze up from where he was scrunched halfway off the sofa to see the wretched amusement on Dick’s face.

“I will rest easier when this great lump has been thrown down the mountainside,” Damian snarled against Brown’s fingers. He made a valiant attempt to bite them that managed to scrape her flesh.

“Whoa, okay, no teeth between friends.” Dick pried them apart and left them panting resentfully, faces flushed red.

“He’s not my friend,” Brown huffed. Damian agreed silently. “He’s an adorable little baby-“ she cut herself off with a shriek as she barely escaped Damian’s teeth.

The surprise attack was no use. Dick, who was now demoted to Richard for dastardly acts, caught him around the waist and hoisted him up over his great big silly shoulders. Damian hung there resentfully and glowered. He would show them all one day. He would be larger than them all. It was his destiny, as the son of the Bat, who was quite tall even if not as tall as Damian might have hoped.

Surely it would be any day now that Damian would burst in a stream of glory past his current 5 feet and 4 inches. He was nearly 14 years of age. That was old enough for a growth spurt, one that would compel his wretched family to respect him.

“You seem more energetic than expected. I was worried.” Richard patted his back. “Senior year is important, Steph, I hope you don’t have too much homework.”

Brown let out a rather pathetic fake cough. “I’m fine,” she said bravely. “I don’t have too much, no. We just finished midterms.”

Richard made a cheerful sound that implied he was onto them. “Good thing you got sick now and not last week, then!”

“Fine,” Damian spat. He ignored the way that Brown’s eyes went wide. “What have you come for, Richard?”

He made a tch sound with his tongue upon hearing of his demotion from his preferred appellation, Dick. “I’m here to heal the sick with my tender ministry,” he lied.

Damian waited. He crossed his arms. The position was awkward, given that he was still hanging upside down over Richard’s back.

“You two are obviously in cahoots and I want to be in cahoots.” Richard flipped Damian over back onto his feet with a flourish but did not let go of his grip on Damian’s shoulders. He leaned in slightly with a grin to say, “Let me in, you shits.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. Outrageous. He would not bend to these demands.

“Compelling point,” Brown said. “Unfortunately, there’s nothing to cahoot about.” Damian turned his head back far enough to see her saunter towards Richard, holding the sofa cushion to her stomach with one hand. “Except, maybe.” She trailed off tentatively, hand over her mouth.

“Yes?” Richard asked.

Brown removed her hand and started coughing into Richard’s face, eyes and mouth contorted in a repulsive fashion. “Nasty!” Richard bellowed, taking evasive actions. Damian grabbed Richard’s hands to hold him in place so that he could aid Brown in her noble mission by coughing on Richard’s face. Their elder squirmed and weaved, but he saw spittle land on Richard’s eyebrow before his grip was wrenched away and Richard escaped range. “I’m going to rehome you to the bin!” Richard hollered. He executed an artful roll over a divan and came back up with the single heavy seat cushion. “Get back!” He brandished it at them.

Brown dove for his ankles while his vision was obstructed. Damian took advantage of the same instant to take the high ground, leaping to the back of the chair and then jumping onto Richard’s shoulders with a vicious war cry. The chair toppled to the ground after him. He noted it, but was occupied pulling handfuls of hair and deliberately spitting on Richard’s ear. The movement exposed the upper curve of their enemy's ear. “He is wearing jewelry!” Damian reported victoriously. How mortifying! Richard was attempting to have a personal life!

“You were ready for a date!” Brown accused, trying to cling to Richard’s ankle. He slammed the cushion down and leveraged it on top of her. She went under with a shriek, and Damian was nearly shaken from his perch when Richard lurched downwards to use his weight to trap Brown. She continued, muffled but undefeated. “You weren’t here for us! You don’t care, you had something else to bring you into town.”

“They canceled on you because you are elderly and infirm!” Damian traunted. Richard lost a few hairs when he wrenched Damian off and literally threw him across the room. He landed on his feet effortlessly and extended a hand to point in accusation. “You are taking out your unused energy on us! What will the authorities think of your abominable behavior?”

“Master Dick!”

Everyone stopped breathing. Brown quickly withdrew the hands that she had been weaseling out from underneath the cushion in an attempt to escape. If only he was also unseen. The authorities were already at hand, and he was exposed in the open. Damian felt a cold hand of fear around his heart. He guiltily lowered the hand rudely pointing at Richard.

Damian turned his wide eyed gaze on Alfred. The head of their household looked incensed. “You are not permitted to throw sick children, thank you. You will clean this immediately.” He swept a hand across the disheveled room.

…Yes, sick children. Indeed, he was quite ill. Damian ran through hasty mental calculations of how ill he ought to look. Should he slump? Would it be too much? He would never normally expose weakness, so perhaps it would only seem suspicious.

Richard looked incredibly trapped. “What if I told you that they aren’t really sick?” he tried.

Alfred barely spared Damian a glance, but he felt flayed through. “Then I would be disappointed in them for their deception, but it does not increase my tolerance for testing their aerodynamic qualities, nor their tolerance for being trapped in cushions.”

Richard meekly stepped off of the large cushion. It popped up and off of Brown, who rather looked as though she would prefer to remain out of sight. Her skin was flushed and her hair sweaty. She did still look terrible.

‘...We can still succeed.’

The household existed in a tense silence after Alfred left the room. Damian avoided eye contact with Richard. Despite orders, all three of them straightened the room. Damian tucked himself back onto the sofa and exchanged wary glances with Brown. Ought they apologize? Had they wronged Dick?

Their elder let out a sigh. He sprawled out on a chair and looked up at the ceiling. “Don’t do anything rash,” he said. His earlier lighthearted tone was replaced with a quiet command that made Damian’s back straighten. “You’re working a case. I’ll stay out of it, but I don’t like that you’ve lied to Alfred and Bruce.”

Shame burnt at Damian’s cheeks. He felt hot with it. He looked at his legs, unable to speak around the sharp rock in his throat. He nodded.

It was with a bitter taste in his mouth and a humbled neck that Damian contacted the electronic witch in her tower. “Good evening,” he said.

“Damian,” said Barbara, amused. “Good to hear from you. Stephanie said you might call.”

“…yes.” He swallowed down the bad taste in his mouth. “I hope to request a favor from you.”

The sound of knuckles cracking came across the headset. “I’m listening.”

Damian shuddered. Disgusting.

[onceupre]

Chapter 2: A Decisive Choice! The End of Cure Hoodie?!

(Author's note: Thanks so much for the recent support! I hope y'all enjoy chapter 2! ^^)

Hoodie stood resilient and on the ready against the dangerous looking serpent woman who stood before her. She felt Operetta’s scarlet eyes filling with hatred at the sight of her. The atmosphere was so silent you could hear the wind blowing gently as the two had a silent standoff, waiting for the other to move first.

The fairies floated on the side of the stand off, in awe of the newly born Precure. But there was also suspense in the air, of what would unfold between the two intense figures that were standing before them.

Operetta screeched, grabbed her scythe and charged at Hoodie, who ducked down backwards to narrowly dodge her advance. Operetta then clawed at the girl, who swiftly slapped her claws away with a quick motion, grabbing her wrist and tossing Operetta behind into a nearby tree with a snap sounding impact. Hoodie looked at her hand, impressed with this newfound strength.

The serpent woman grunted as she brushed off the debris of the tree she was thrown into. Some dead leaves and twigs were caught in her hair, infuriating Operetta even moreso. She suddenly froze, and frantically looked at her hands, inspecting each and every finger out of worry. She sighed and used the snath of her scythe to help her up

“You’ll pay for almost ruining my nails, pest.” Operetta hissed 

“You’re clearly nuts! Ya REALLY think I care about some dumb gussied up nails??” Hoodie scoffed in response, this monster clearly has odd priorities…

Operetta huffed, and charged again. Hoodie simply jumped up, but overestimated the new power she was bestowed, as she was high up in the air. The feeling was almost freeing, while nervous, she also felt light and serene being up so high. She could see so much scenery also. She spotted the woodlands below, beyond that was a nearby academy, Meruhen Village, and-

Her eyes locked with the familiar sight of her family’s bakery. She felt a pit slowly forming, remembering the events from this morning between her and her parents. And for a moment, she snapped out of her adrenaline high as she plummeted to the ground. She barely stuck a landing but before she could turn, Operetta jabbed the snath of her weapon into Hoodie’s stomach, launching her back into a tree.

“THAT is for earlier!” Operetta snickered “And THIS is to end things!”

Operetta slithered up to the currently down Precure and she raised her scythe. Hoodie looked up defenseless, realizing the danger she was truly in. Memories of this morning flashed before her eyes once again. The arguing, the discord at home, her wanting to escape. She was helpless in so many aspects, even with such an awesome power, she still felt hopeless….

“LUUULUUUUUUUUUU!” Lupo screeched as he attacked and grabbed onto Operetta’s face, throwing her off balance.

“Let’s get you UPPP ~LELE!” The swan said, flapping her wings as she used her clawed feet to help lift Hoodie up by her red hood.

“Don’t give up please, miss ~lili!” the cub pleaded while pushing Hoodie up from her upper back.

Hoodie got up, and realized she needed to think, and act fast. She thought about her next move, when once again she felt an uneasy feeling growing. Phrases said by her father and mother flooded her mind, she never really could feel a moment’s peace could she? And now she has to face this monstrous woman, and on top of that help these poor defenseless creatures!

Help…Under attack…Arguments .... Those three topics swirled around Hoodie’s head and she lightly tapped her cranium with the palm of her hand, trying to focus and decide on her next move. Among all the noise going on inside of her mind, the struggles of Operetta trying to rip Lupo off her face wasn’t helping much either. Quiet, she needed quiet desperately. 

So she made a decision.

She grabbed the two fairies that helped her up moments ago, and swiftly jumped at Operetta who was struggling to detach Lupo from her face. She ripped the wolf from her enemy’s head, and jumped onto Operetta’s shoulders. She swiftly used a powerful jump off of her enemy and far into the emptied sky above, causing Operetta to be pushed forcibly into the dirty woodland ground below.

A comical moment passed by as Operetta processed what had just happened.

“Wh-WHAT?!” Operetta exclaimed, her face still in the dirt, before snapping her head upwards “Precure….ran away?”

She had a look of disbelief until she realized the girl made off with the fairies. Her face morphed into a look of pure anger, her sharp teeth practically grinding against each other before letting out a gut-wrenching screech.

“Grrrr… PREEEECURREEEEEEEEE!”

-----

Farther away from the previous battleground, Hoodie let go of the fairies she held onto, allowing them to float freely themselves. The three were confused at Cure Hoodie’s choice to flee the fight. They all swarmed around the girl who was now panting, trying to catch her breath.

“What the heck~ lulu?! You just. RAN AWAY?!?” 

“She’s gonna trail our tail feathers ~lele!!”

“My stomach hurts ~lili”

“EVERYONE JUST. SHADDUP!!!!” Akane screamed desperately.

Some birds flew away as Hoodie’s voice echoed across the emptied woods around them. The three fairies were startled at the girl’s response.

“Get this froufrou mess offa me. NOW!” Akane exclaimed, practically grabbing her outfit and with a ripping motion, dispelled the magical attire off of her body spontaneously.

 She was shocked that it worked, and grabbed at her twin braids to assure her suspicions; she was back to her civilian self again!

“That’s more like it!” she stretched her arms out and moved onto her legs, squatting down from side to side, feeling freed a bit from the constricting clothes she had on just a moment earlier. She also took a moment to just breathe, she felt a bit more at ease as she rolled her shoulders back to crack them and relieve some stress she held there just moments prior.

Lupo looked stern, then closed his eyes with a frustrated huff.

“You…you’re nothing but a coward ~lulu...” he muttered, loud enough for Akane to just barely hear what he said.

“HUH?! What do you mean?? I SAVED you!!” Akane replied defensively.

“You only DELAYED that beastly woman from getting us ~lulu!”

“LISTEN! I DIDN'T HAFTA DO NOTHING FOR YOU, YOU FUZZBALLS!”

Akane grit her teeth together at the wolven fairy, as the other two floated on the sidelines. The swan put a wing to her chest and exaggeratedly gasped.

“Well I’d NEVER ~lele!” the swan turned her head at the girl with scorn, taking offense to the comment from the brunette girl.

“Please stop yelling ~lili!! Everyone please-” The cub was cut off with a loud grumbling sound from his stomach.

It grew quiet, comedically quiet. Akane then sighed with a hint of amusement, and zipped open her  wolf themed pouch from her crossbody bag. She took out a dessert she had been saving, a cookie, and handed it to the cub, who looked happy to finally have gotten some food in his paws.

“Thank you ~lili!” The cub cheerfully said while shoving the cookie into its maw.

“Whatever. Here” she said, holding out the Precure Storybook to Lupo, who returned her gesture with a look of shock and confusion.

“What are you-”

“I can’t be involved with this ‘Pretty Cute’ junk” she spat out hastily, her eyes slightly looking away from her recipient.

-----

Meanwhile an angered Operetta was wandering through the trees. She was angrily swiping her weapon at each tree she passed, knocking them over and clearing the view bit by bit. She was trying to find her lost prey, or rather, her prey that were taken from her.

“Damned girl, making things more complicated than they need to be… I’ll kill her if I find her-”

*snap*

Operetta hastily turned in the direction of the sudden noise, her scythe in hand and pointed in the same direction blade first. She turned to the view of a scared boy who wore a sleeveless red hoodie and blue shorts, who looked terrified at the sight of her.

“Oh eww, children, gross” she said in a disgusted tone, which made the boy cry for his mother. 

His tears angered her, but with such a strong emotion she felt from him…. A feeling of being lost? Utter abandonment, with a hint of saddened memories of a paternal figure now lost. Perfect for her to initiate her backup plan.

She chuckled as she slammed the snath of her scythe against the ground, causing the boy to freeze, a look of terror painted his face.

“Reveal yourself! Nostalight!” She said sensually.

 As if on instinct a glowing orb with wings flew out from the boy’s chest, radiating a faint yellow hue. The orb flapped its wings in an attempt to escape its newfound predator, but to no avail.

Operetta grinned as she drove her weapon into the soil below. The red crystal at the base of her weapon glowed, causing  black sludge like ooze to dispense onto the ground. From there the ooze rose upwards from the earth’s floor, trickling drops of sludge as it shot upwards at the Nostalight orb. It enveloped the orb with its paste-like embrace, tainting it, and trapping it within a red diamond shaped crystal. Two scythes crossed behind it, locking it in place as the ink-like substance overflowed, into the shape of a wolven-like monster.

“POISONINKKKKKK!!!” the Poisonink screeched with a blood curdling growl, echoing far across the forest, scaring away the animals that were residing nearby.

“Hmm~ Time to end this, Cure Hoodie~” Operetta purred, feeling more confident with her newfound pawn.

-----

“Firstly! It’s ‘Precure’! Secondly, WHAT ~LULU?!?!?!” Lupo responded to Akane, who still held her Precure Storybook toward the dumbfounded fairy.

“IM AKANE, NOT ‘LULU’!” she responded angrily.

Lupo sighed and closed his eyes.

“That’s just how us fairies speak ~lulu I know your name, Akane ~lulu!”

Akane huffed and crossed her arms, her arm felt sore from holding out the item the fairy still refused to take back.

“Listen. I can’t be gettin’ myself into all this mess. I already have a lot goin’ on at home as is! It’s just….better if ya found someone else…” she said, turning away in embarrassment. 

“Well you won’t have to worry about home once The Grimm Empire plunges this world into an eternal bad end ~lulu!” Lupo growled.

Akane turned around, confused at what the fairy said. Did he insinuate the world could potentially END?!

“Eternal ...bad end? What are ya yappin’ about now?” she cautiously asked.

Lupo closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and exhaled.

“We…I can’t tell you much Akane ~lulu” Lupo said as his ears fell downwards, clearly ashamed of his inability to speak further on the subject.

“Then I’m outta here” she said, walking off disappointed at the conversation’s outcome.

“HOW DARE YOU~ LELE!” the bird huffed and flapped her way to the front of Akane’s direction, halting her in her tracks.

“Lebed please be rational ~lili” the cub whispered, trying to calm the bird.

“NO LIONCEAU! This girl is being naive and petty~lele!”

“Lebed? Lionceau? What kinda names are those?” Akane muttered to herself.

Lupo flew up to Akane, determined to convince her with the best of his ability.

“Akane ~lulu,  I don’t know why you changed your mind suddenly but please reconsider-”

“WHY?! So I can be told ONCE AGAIN how to live my life?? I get that enough from my parents! And now suddenly by flying talking animals?? I’m losin’ it!!” Akane exclaimed with her hands on her head.

Lupo and the others exchanged a look of worry, then Lupo turned back and spoke.

“Akane ~lulu… I don’t know much about you, and I’m sorry for forcing this all on you suddenly….”

‘Sorry’ resonated in Akane’s mind. She wasn’t used to hearing that word, the only other person who ever apologized to her was her mother on rare occasions…

“...but I NEED you to understand the danger the world is in if you can’t help us ~lulu!” Lupo pleaded desperately.

Akane closed her eyes for a moment, letting those words resonate in her mind for a bit.

“...ya mentioned an eternal bad end?” she responded, turning towards the fairies.

“Yes ~lulu The Grimm Empire is planning on plunging this world into an eternal bad end! A world filled with despair and woes ~lulu!”

“One where everyone is sad, not able to feel any happy emotions ~lili...” Lionceau added.

“A world where you can’t decide your own happily ever after ~lele” Lebed admitted defeatedly 

“Happily ever after?” Akane made a confused expression at that phrasing.

“It’s what us fairies from Everafter Garden refer to what you humans may call ‘dreams’ ~lulu” Lupo explained, hoping he made a correct comparison for Akane to understand.

Akane paused. Her dream. What IS her dream? Once again she stood dumbfounded, she was surrounded by so much work and chaos of  family related fights, she still had no clue what her ‘dream’ could be…or even how to go about figuring something like that out.

“...Even still… what am I supposed to do??” she questioned.

“We…can’t disclose much about our mission, unless we have a team of at least THREE Precure ~lulu.... It’d be too risky to our mission,  But PLEASE trust we have you and your world’s best interest at heart ~lulu” 

Akane stood there, about to respond when suddenly the ground shook, and a huge beast made of black goopy ink stood before her. Its large elongated arms hung down and attached to two giant paws that had sharp claws out. The monster had its sharp teeth snarling, black ooze dripping down like saliva from its maw.

Operetta stood on it’s shoulders looking pleased at the sight of the once again terrified prey in front of her.

“Oh there you are! And already detransformed? My what a treat to me~” she playfully exclaimed putting her hands together.

Akane stood her ground as best she could,visibly trembling at the much more terrifying beast in front of her. It had to have been about 10 feet taller than her! The three fairies followed behind her, trembling at the foes in front of them.

“My Poisonink here will now be ending your lives for me. I cannot be bothered to put another hair out of place, beside…” she looked at Akane who was buckling at the knees, visibly horrified.

 “...Watching this beast kill you and those pesky fairies will be a sight I wanna see in full~” she giggled sadistically.

“Poisonink?” Akane turned her head to ask the small fairies behind her.

“A creature used by tainting a human’s Nostalight, inner memories of things they’re fond of. ~lulu” Lupo answered practically whispering out of fear of being heard.

“...Pasta WHAT?” Akane questioned, having a hard time hearing the small fairy’s hushed tone.

“Anyways, Poisonink, end them now.” Operetta exclaims, hopping off the beast and landing soundly on the ground off to the side of the newly found battle arena.

“POISONNNNINK!” the monster cried out, the sound reverberating through the woodland area, causing some birds to caw and fly away in fear.

The beast lunged its elongated paws at the four prey, but Akane whipped around and group hug-tackled the fairies and herself to safety. But only for a moment before the beast swung its elongated claws again, and again, each time getting dangerously closer to the quartet.

Akane noticed their disadvantage, and she knew she had to make a choice. She already had so much going on at home. She has no idea what her dream isor what will come in the future for her, but if she doesn't help now she won’t have much of a dream or future to look forward to. When she looked down to the fairies she held in her arms, Lupo caught her eye particularly.

Lupo stared at her, she took notice of this, and he gave her a look. A look of understanding. Something she’s alien to, almost as if he’s beckoning her to realize whatever she chooses this time around, it’s HER choice. Her choice… her decision…nobody else has a say…only her!

“Lupo!” she called out, making her choice as clear as day to the now smiling wolf fairy.

As Akane let the fairies float freely, the wolf nodded in understanding, and handed her the wolf-shaped charm he had stored in his brooch. She took it and made a sharp pose with the charm in one hand, and The Precure Storybook in her other, facing the opponent.

“It’s about time I make my own decisions! Startin’ with defeating you monsters!” she said proudly.

“Precure! Curetime Everafter!”

As quick as a flash, Akane transforms into Cure Hoodie!

“Hooded in red, journeying towards victory! Cure Hoodie!”

“KILL THEM ALL NOW!” Operetta screeched, disgusted at the sight of Cure Hoodie once again. She was set on crushing this vile worm while she had her chance.

Hoodie was ready this time, and stood her ground as the monster once again plunged its huge paws atop of her, seemingly crushing her. Operetta had a sickening grin until she realized the paw was… shaking? 

From beneath, Cure Hoodie slowly lifted the paw up with shaking knees. She found some footing, grasped the foe’s paw tightly, and swung the beast overhead, plunging it into the ground and into the nearby treeline.

“NO!” screamed Operetta in shock of Hoodie’s strength and anger of her pawn’s incompetence. 

Hoodie brushed her shoulders off, and stretched out her shoulders with a crackling noise. She then charged at the beast with a sprint, and ran along up its back and to its head. As she approached its muzzle she hopped up to its nose and then jumped far up into the sky. Cure Hoodie stopped herself mid-air and swiftly positioned her leg outward and flew back down, successfuly landing a sharp kick. Doing so, she jabbed her scarlet heels into the beast’s snout.

She took notice of the red diamond-shaped  jewel adorned on the Poisonink’s chest, and had a feeling that was its weak spot.

“Hoodie! ~lulu! Use the Precure Storybook and purify the Poisonink ~lulu! It’ll purify and return the Nostalight to the proper owner! Hurry, while it’s down ~lulu!” Lupo screamed from the sidelines, the other two fairies screaming their support as well.

Hoodie nodded in understanding, and opened up the storybook. The slot where the wolf charm was inserted was glowing, and she pressed it down lightly twice. This activates a symbol to trace on the left side’s mirror. She took the quill pen and followed the dotted line, which in turn simultaneously drew the emblem with raw energy in front of her.

Once finished, the wolf shaped emblem that stood in front of her glowed, and she touched it with the tip of her quill pen, absorbing the filling of raw energy of the emblem to the inside of her pen. This left the emblem’s outline visible still while her pen lit up with a sparkling red energy, ready to burst.

“Precure!” She made a swift motion, as if to charge up “Exciting Resolution!”

She pulled back, and pierced the glowing outline with a resounding ‘HA’, while simultaneously shoving her opposing leg forward for an added oomph factor. This action released the energy from within the pen at the Posionink in the form of a wild wolf. It charged valiantly towards its darker counterpart. Once it made contact with the monster, the beast was purified with a relaxing “Happily ever after~!” 

As Hoodie closed her Precure Storybook in triumph, the monster exploded, shattering the red diamond gem it one wore. With that, the Nostalight appeared to be purified with its normal yellow hue glowing softly like it once did before.

“Tch. I’ll remember this, Precure.” Operetta grumbled before vanishing into thin air, returning the surroundings back to normal as the fairies celebrated around a proud Cure Hoodie. 

She took notice of the floating ball of light, it intrigued her.

“So…that’s a Pasta-Light?” she questioned at the expense of the fairies looking embarrassed of her mispronunciation. 

“It’s NOSTALIGHT!~lulu That ball of light holds memories a person holds dear to something. It usually resides within a human’s heart.~lulu” retorted Lupo.

Cure Hoodie held her hand around the flapping ball of light, she took notice of a mother and her son joyfully playing. She smiled, both out of compassion, but a bit out of envy as well.

“We simply cannot let The Grimm Empire taint and harvest these lights!~ lele” Lebed squaked.

Hoodie looked inquisitively at the fairies, beckoning them to continue.

“I promise we’ll tell you Cure Hoodie, in due time.~lulu” Lupo reassured as Hoodie nodded in understanding.

With that, the Nostalight flew back to its normal vessel with small flaps of its wings.

Cure Hoodie smiled at its departure, as for once, she took control of things in her life. And it felt good!

-----

Within Akane’s room the four lay on her bed, seemingly exhausted from their journey. 

Akane sighed with relief, both from being victorious, but also for successfully lying to her parents that the fairies were actually a gift from the patron she delivered to earlier that day. Although it seemed easy once their scoldings of her arriving home so late were over, they seemed more attentive to that detail above all else.

“Very smart of you to pass us off as gifts from your delivery. ~lulu You’re more intelligent than I thought!~ lulu” Lupo jested at the girl who clearly was unimpressed with his remark.

“I’m just good at explaining my way outta trouble at this point hehe” she replied gleefully.

“Now ~lulu, tomorrow we search for any potential new Precure! ~lulu” the wolf said with resolve.

-----

 A docile figure approaches a black landline phone, dials some numbers, and makes a call.

“....Hello? Yes I’d like to place an order to the Izumi Ballet Hall please...Yes, a dozen blueberry muffins please…Yes, that’s correct...a name for the order? Hakuchou Junko…Thank you, have a lovely day!”

The girl smiled softly and hung up the phone.

-End Chapter 2-

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Outbreak

Joel Miller Pre/Post apocalypse x wife fem reader

Joel Miller woke up to the sound of chaos. His daughter, Sarah, was already on her feet, eyes wide with fear as the distant sound of explosions and sirens filled the air. His heart pounded in his chest, not just from the panic of the unknown, but because his wife, Y/N, was working the night shift at the hospital as an ER Nurse.

"Dad, what's happening?" Sarah's voice trembled as she clung to him.

"We need to get to your mom," Joel said, determination overriding his fear. He grabbed his phone, tried calling Y/N, but there was no answer. His anxiety grew.

As Joel and Sarah rushed out the door, his brother Tommy pulled up in his truck. "Get in!" Tommy shouted, but Joel had other plans.

"Move over," Joel commanded, pushing Tommy out of the driver’s seat. "We’re going to the hospital."

Tommy, sensing the urgency, didn't argue. Joel drove like a man possessed, weaving through traffic and past scenes of chaos and destruction. When they arrived at the hospital, he parked right at the emergency wing and turned to Tommy and Sarah.

"Stay here and lock the doors. Don't open them for anyone but me," Joel ordered, his voice stern but shaking slightly with worry.

Joel approached the hospital entrance, but security guards blocked his way. "No one is allowed inside," one of them said firmly.

"My wife is in there!" Joel shouted, desperation in his eyes. When they refused to budge, he attacked with a ferocity fueled by love and fear. Joel incapacitated the guards, knowing he had no other choice. His wife was in danger.

He sprinted through the chaotic hallways, calling out Y/N's name. Finally, he heard the sound of a door bursting open and saw her, running for her life. Their eyes met, and she ran straight into his arms. Joel held her tightly, a sigh of relief escaping his lips.

"We need to get out of here," Y/N said, her voice shaky but resolute.

They made it back to the car, but the situation outside had deteriorated. Forced to abandon the vehicle, they took off on foot. In the ensuing chaos, Sarah and Y/N got separated from Joel and Tommy. Joel's heart sank as he realized he couldn't see his daughter or wife anymore.

Years passed, filled with pain and survival. Joel's heart hardened with each passing day, but he never forgot his wife and daughter. Then came Ellie, a girl who slowly broke through his hardened exterior and gave him a new purpose.

When Joel and Ellie arrived at Jackson, hope and fear waged war within him. As he walked through the settlement, he heard a familiar voice call his name. He turned and saw her Y/N. Time seemed to stand still as she ran to him, faster than he had ever seen her move.

"Y/N!" Joel shouted, his voice breaking with emotion.

She threw herself into his arms, and for a moment, everything else disappeared. He pulled back, searching her face. "Where's Sarah?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Y/N's eyes filled with tears as she placed her hands on his cheeks. "Joel," she said, her voice trembling. "She…she died. She got turned into one of those things."

Joel fell to the ground, his world shattering. Y/N held him, tears streaming down her own cheeks. "I know, baby. I know," she whispered, trying to console him.

After what felt like an eternity, Joel managed to ask, “Have you been here all this time?”

Y/N shook her head. “No… I found Tommy along the way, and we were on the road for a while. Then we ended up here.”

Joel’s eyes scanned the area, searching for a familiar face. His gaze settled on a figure dismounting a horse near the entrance. The man turned, and Joel’s breath caught in his throat. It was Tommy.

“Tommy!” Joel’s voice rang out, filled with a mixture of joy and disbelief.

Tommy’s head snapped up, his eyes widening as he saw Joel. “Joel!” he shouted back, a grin spreading across his face.

Without hesitation, both brothers started running towards each other. Years of hardship and separation melted away in that moment. They collided in a powerful embrace, holding each other tightly, neither willing to let go.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Joel said, his voice thick with emotion.

Tommy pulled back slightly, looking at Joel with tears in his eyes. “I thought the same, brother. It’s been too long.”Joel felt a deep sense of relief wash over him.

Joel, still in shock, slowly nodded. He introduced Ellie to Y/N, his wife. She was thrilled, her maternal instincts immediately kicking in. They had always wanted more children, and now Ellie became the other daughter they longed for.

After the emotional reunion with his family, Y/N led Joel, and Ellie through the bustling streets of Jackson. The settlement was a thriving community, a beacon of hope amidst the chaos of the world outside. Y/N’s heart swelled with pride as she guided her family to her home.

“This place is amazing,” Ellie said, looking around with wide eyes. “I can’t believe it.”

Y/N smiled, glancing back at the group. “It is. It’s been a refuge for us, a place where we can try to build a normal life again.”

They arrived at a quaint, well kept house nestled on a quiet street. The front yard was adorned with a small garden, blooming with vibrant flowers that Y/N had carefully tended. She opened the door and ushered them inside.

“Welcome to our home,” Y/N said, her voice filled with warmth and a hint of pride.

Joel looked around, taking in the cozy living room with its comfortable furniture and personal touches.

“It’s beautiful,” Joel said, his voice choked with emotion.

Y/N led them through the house, showing them the kitchen, the dining area, and the bedrooms. “This room will be yours, Ellie,” she said, opening the door to a small but charming bedroom with a bed covered in a colorful quilt.

Ellie’s eyes lit up. “This is amazing! Thank you so much.”

Y/N smiled, reaching out to gently squeeze Ellie’s shoulder. “You’re welcome, sweetie. We’re family now, and this is your home too.”

She then led Joel to the master bedroom. “This is our bedroom” she looked up at Joel with tears in her eyes “I’m so happy, I finally found you” he smiled and placed a kiss on her lips.

As they settled in, Y/N prepared a simple but hearty meal. They gathered around the dining table, the first real family meal they had shared in years. Laughter and conversation flowed freely, the warmth of their reunion filling the room.

After dinner, they sat together in the living room, sharing stories of their journeys and the hardships they had faced. Ellie listened intently, feeling a sense of belonging she had longed for. Y/N and Joel held hands, finding comfort in each other’s presence.

As the evening drew to a close, Y/N looked around at her family, her heart full. Despite the pain and loss they had endured, they had found their way back to each other. In a world filled with uncertainty, they had created a sanctuary of love and hope.

i want to make this is a series? comment if i should and if you guys would like it to be a series :)

NEXT CHAPTER

[razorblade180]

9 days of Lancaster Day 1: Training

Ruby considered herself an honest girl. Maybe a light fib every once and awhile but she really tried speaking her mind often! She meant it when she said she wishes to be a normal girl with normal knees. However, as Jaune flipped her onto a sparring mat, the next words out of her mouth made her wish seem like a lie.

Ruby:I am better than this outcome! I’m a natural born fighter, so why is this so hard!

Jaune:You really weren’t kidding about your hand to hand skills. I’m not even good.

Ruby:Lies! We all can’t be roommates with a ninja and learn cool skills!

Jaune:Yeah but…YOU have a ninja roommate.

Ruby:….

Jaune:…And a martial arts sis-

Ruby:Shut up! *springs up* Again! I’m focused! I will get you.

Jaune:Ren said most things come down to balance and timing. Try not rush this.

Ruby:I’d like to point out my weapon gives me reach and an immaculate pace. Without it you’re like two of me.

Jaune:Yeah but you’re amazing. I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it soon enough.

Ruby:Your kindness has no effect on me.

Jaune:Pin me and I will buy lunch. If you lose then you do it.

Ruby:You’re on!

Without hesitation, a flying kick went past Jaune’s head. He barely had time to put his hands up to block a flurry of tiny but rapid fists.

The pressure was short lived when Jaune threw a punch that forced Ruby to weave. Darn his long arms! She put all her concentration into bobbing left and right, successfully avoiding slower but powerful blows as she worked the ring. Lunch was on the line and it wasn’t looking too good for her. She had to really think about her attacks. She was faster but Jaune was no slouch. It all comes down to timing.

Ruby noticed his right shoulder move back and began ducking as Jaune sent a right hook. As she ducked, Ruby made her move; a right uppercut was headed his way then immediately pulled back as he went to block. The faint worked! Ruby twisted her body into a left jab aimed right for his face! Unfortunately, the blow failed spectacularly. Jaune raised his right palm and caught it! No way he predicted that! Ruby immediately went for right but was once again caught and both arms were raised above her head. She refused to give up her free lunch!

Both of them made their move. Ruby went to knee him with her right but wasn’t expecting him to lean her body backwards. She quickly lost balance and her leg was caught with his left hand as her wrists became pinned by his right against a wall. She hadn’t even noticed how far back they moved during the fight. Did he purposely lead her over here!? The proud but surprised smile on his face told her yes. Ruby couldn’t help but pout as he chuckled.

Ruby:Ren has taught you too much.

Jaune:Lunch is on you today.

Ruby:This is clearly a draw.

Jaune:Rubes, you’re pinned.

Ruby:Last time i checked, your arms are full. Looks like we both can’t properly attack. I call that a draw~

She confidently huffed. That was until their little stare down slowly grew closer.

Jaune:You really think I’m out of moves?

Ruby:Pr-Prove me wrong.

Why was she stuttering? Now was not the time to show weakness to the enemy! Cobalt eyes grew ever larger as they got closer to pools of silver. The grip on her wrists became a bit more firm, as well as his fingers behind her knee. Escaping the pin suddenly felt more like a suggestion than a need, and Ruby was so thrown off right now all she could think to do was close her eyes and wait for his “attack”

After what felt like an eternity, a soft press against her forehead connected with his own before leaving. Suddenly her limbs were free and she felt his presence back off. Ruby opened her eyes to see her friend looking completely the other way with his ears as red as her cape l; and her face at this point.

Jaune:See? I could’ve headbutted you.

Ruby:Y-Yeah…right. I can’t argue with that. *rubs head* Lunch is on me.

Jaune:Let’s call it here. Also… I will but dessert.

He briskly runs off, leaving Ruby to stew in the moment. She didn’t know what was worse; that he might’ve been going for a headbutt from the start but she clearly puckered up, or the fact she could still feel his grip on her. Either way, she was dying inside.

Ruby:(Why does hand to hand have to be so close?!)

[autisticlenaluthor]

Midnight

“I’ve got you!” Kara says in the morning when Lena trips over trips over the blanket discarded on the floor. Before Lena can fall, she lunges forward and catches her in her arms— graceful as ever. For a second, they both laugh. 

“My hero,” Lena says through her giggles. She kisses her and boops her nose. “Thank you.” 

“I’ve got you,” Supergirl says when another L Corp press conference is attacked. As the crowd runs in every which direction— scattering across the park like flies, Lena makes a beeline for her. She ducks down and throws her hands over her head— Kara immediately crouching over her. Like the wind, her cape blows over Lena’s body and shields her. When shots fire, they bounce right off. They’re nothing but a startling bang and flattened bullet. 

“I’ve got you,” Kara says again, her hand holding firm on Lena’s arm. “I’ll get you out of here.” 

“I’ve got you,” Kara affirms at game night when it’s time to pick teams. “Right?” 

Lena grins and rolls her eyes. “Obviously.”

 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Kara says, pulling Lena aside to hand her a coffee.

Lena blushes bright red.

“Kara!” Her voice is an octave higher than normal but she can’t help it. Of course Kara would interpret her disgruntled texts about how she was running late and wouldn’t have time to stop at Noonans as an invitation to buy the drink for her. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“I know, I wanted to. And you really can’t function without caffeine.” 

Lena bows her head and smiles. They’ve got an 8am CatCo staff meeting in five minutes– she really did need the boost.

Running her index finger over the rim of the cup, Lena bites her bottom lip. “You really are my favorite- you know that?” 

“I know.” Kara grins. “But I love when you remind me.”

 

“I’ve got you,” Kara whispers, half asleep. Lena curls into her, shaking like a leaf as she reaches out to hug her around the neck. 

Through the darkness, Kara can just barely make out the spotty tears on Lena’s cheeks. She’s frowning, chin quivering, but still, fighting to keep the rest inside. Kara wraps her arms around her and gently pulls her close. 

She’s no stranger to nightmares either– to seeing the images of her worst days projected onto the backs of her eyelids like a looping movie she can’t escape. In moments like these, she’s almost grateful they’ve been through it so many times together. It means she knows exactly what Lena needs to feel better. 

“It’s okay,” Kara breathes, carefully rubbing Lena’s back. “You’re safe. It’s just a dream.” 

Wordlessly, Lena sniffs. She holds Kara a little tighter– her way of reminding herself that she’s real, she isn’t going anywhere. 

“You’re safe,” Kara says again. “He can’t get to you.”

“It’s okay– I’ve got you.”

Kara drapes Lena’s coat over her shoulders and puts her arm around her, effectively shielding her from the crowded clamor of the gala. At midnight, the party is still roaring. A scene with noise and flashing lights Lena hit her limit on half an hour ago. 

Lena nods to herself, pressing her body closer to Karas. For a second– she doesn’t have the discretion to think about being caught in her moment of weakness. She doesn’t care about being watched or gawked at. 

Because they planned for this weeks ago. Because Kara knows when Lena says they need to go, it means they need to go now. Because they never go to an event without knowing where the service exit is.

Before Lena knows it, they’re hidden away in a private hallway, on their way out of the building.

“You alright?” Kara checks. 

Lena nods and manages a small smile. 

“Yeah,” she whispers. “I know you’ve got me.”

[thinking1bee]

Get Back to Her

Requested by Anonymous

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Tags: Spidey!Reader, Angst, Fluff, Established Relationship, Graphic Depictions of Injuries, Blood, Violence, Explicit Language, Softness, Kisses, Near Death Experience

Everything Taglist: @sammy90682 @nobody13 @owloftheshadows @captain-josslett @camslightstories @worldovart @finleyfray @acertainredhead @sammm9068 @reginassecretlover

Labored breaths sawed through gritted teeth, and your jaw was clenched in pain. You were still confused as to how you got here, how a simple robbery devolved into you getting caught by Kraven. Peter warned you of him, and of his agenda to create the perfect hunt by hunting down heroes and villains alike. Since you shared the same powers as Peter, you would be a prime target. You were trying to be so careful and to check your surroundings, but you still got caught. You found yourself utterly surrounded by Kraven’s reinforcements, and you fought tooth and nail to get away. While you did escape, unfortunately, you weren’t able to leave unscathed.

Your body hurt. It hurt so much. It hurt just to be swinging, which you were doing wildly as Kraven’s hunters chased you through the streets of New York.

Bruises, welts, and gashes of every kind littered your body. Stab wounds and gunshots had you whimpering as blood soaked your spidey suit. You could barely breathe, your chest shaking as bone rattling coughs made you spit out some blood into your mask. From behind, you could hear your assailants gaining ground. You heard their yelling, and you felt your spider senses tingle aggressively. You webbed a line to a building, and using the momentum, shot yourself around the corner to make a hard left. You just heard the bullet bury itself into the passing concrete instead of your body. The next web you created was used to propel you forward, your body twisting on instinct, and while you were suspended in the air, you flipped yourself upside down to face the hunters that were pursuing you. You folded your two middle fingers against your palms and shot thick globs of web fluid. When it hit, the shot exploded on impact to web multiple enemies at once. They screamed before they fell from their airborne vehicles. Another hunter was preparing to shoot you, so you webbed the gun from his hand before you lassoed the weapon back at him. You could hear the crunch of metal against cartilage as your attack launched him backwards off his vehicle as well. That took care of the guys that were closest to you, but you could see more just several hundred feet behind gaining more ground.

You shot out another web to catch yourself, and after orienting back upright, made another hard turn to get out of their immediate line of sight. You could see the Avenger’s Tower ahead, and you felt some hope trickle into you. You had to make it home. You couldn’t die like this. Wanda was waiting for you. Just a few hours ago, she stopped you and told you to come back to her safely. Then, she rolled up your mask just enough to give you a tender kiss on the lips before she rolled it down and smoothed it back in place. It was the cutest thing that you’d ever witnessed, and you needed to go home to her. You promised. You couldn't break that promise.

The compound drew closer and closer, the wind whipping through you uncontrollably. The pain you felt increased in tangent with the amount of blood you were losing. Already, you could feel darkness prickling against the edges of your vision. As you got closer, you could actually see Wanda making herself a cup of tea as she wore one of your shirts and her sweatpants. She was right there. Right there. You were so focused on escaping and getting to your girlfriend, that you didn’t hear the cock of another rifle. You couldn’t focus on your spider senses, your panic driving you on, as you launched yourself forward. You heard the loud crack of a gunshot just milliseconds before blood exploded from your upper chest. A strangled scream tore from you, and you lost the grip on your web. You went limp, but that didn’t stop your body from flying ahead and crashing into one of the glass windows. Distantly, you heard and felt the glass shatter, a few shards cutting into you and imbedding themselves into your body like the bullets did. There was another explosion of agony in your body, one that made the world around you flicker, before you crashed into the floor. Wanda yelped, the tea in her hands slipping from her grip to shatter on the ground. Steaming, hot fluid spread on the wood floors, but it was abandoned as you skidded to a stop. Several streaks of blood followed your body. Red painted the floors from the moment you crashed through the window and until the moment you stopped. Now, it was pooling beneath you, ominously dark under your body. You were deathly still saved for the agonized breaths and wet coughs that left you. You heard footsteps sprinting towards you before someone dropped to their knees. As gently as ever, your mask was removed from you, and you were greeted with the blurry sight of your girlfriend. Her green eyes, eyes that you loved very much, were wide with panic. Russian curses fell from her lips in rapid succession as her hands flurried over you.

“Y/n? Y/n!” she called out to you, her hand cupping your cheek. You couldn’t feel it. You gave her a weak smile, your teeth shiny and tinted red with your own blood.

“Have I ever told you how much I love your accent?” you choked out deliriously. You coughed again, some droplets of blood staining your chapped lips before a dribble of it ran down your chin.

She was shaking her head, her eyes filling with tears. “What happened?”

You didn’t get the chance to answer. From behind, the hunters jumped onto the balcony, and sprinted towards the compound with their weapons drawn. The one that shot you was at the forefront of the group, and he had his rifle pointed at Wanda. You had just enough strength to save her, and you looked into your girlfriend’s shiny, green eyes.

“I love you, Wands. And I’m sorry.”

Her eyes were widening at your words, but you were already moving as you drew on the last of your strength. You grabbed her by her shoulders, flipped her around in one smooth movement, and pressed her against the floor right as the hunter fired. You felt another explosion of pain in your body, and everything suddenly went dark as you collapsed.

***

Indiscernible and fractured scenes came to you as you floated in and out of consciousness. You heard Wanda’s screams. You heard more voices, some of them familiar. There were more sounds of fighting and struggling. There was a flash of red light. You swore that you saw a body being flung around. Shivers of ice coldness ate at your body, every breath you breathed more labored and sluggish than the last. Then, you felt pressure on your body. There were more flashes of light, but this time, from the ceiling as you were rushed down a hallway. When you turned your head to the side, you saw Wanda. She was covered in a little blood, but more than that, she was crying. Her lips were moving, her hand wrapped around yours. You could only hear hellish echoes of her voice, but you swore that she was telling you to hold on. How could you tell her that you were trying when your lips wouldn’t move, wouldn’t cooperate? You tried to squeeze her hand to let her know that you were still here, that you wouldn’t go anywhere, but you couldn’t feel that either. All you could do was succumb to the darkness once more as an oxygen mask was placed over your mouth. When you woke up again, the sounds of conundrum incased you. You were surrounded by Dr. Cho, Bruce, and Stephen. Dr. Cho had her hands overlapping each other and pressing rhythmically against your chest.

“We’re losing them!” you barely managed to hear.

Bruce had pads in his hands. He rubbed them together and you heard something power on, the deep whine of energy gathering somewhere beside you. Dr. Cho pulled away from you right when he yelled clear. Something cold touched your bare chest right as you lost consciousness again. You awoke. It could have been seconds, minutes, or days later. Your eyes flew wide open, and a gasp of air filled your lungs as your back arched. Immediately, a scream of pain shredded your throat as awareness slammed into you with the force of a speeding train.

“Y/n! Y/n!”

This time you heard her. Your panicked gaze turned to Wanda, who was crying hard and cupping your cheek with one hand.

“You’re okay,” she soothed tenderly. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.”

More agonized breaths sawed in and out of you as your vision blurred. You squeezed your eyes shut when another wave of pain drowned you alive, and you felt your tears spill down your cheeks. People were moving behind Wanda frantically and they were all covered in your blood as they rushed to stabilize you.

“Wanda, I’m dying,” you whimpered as you tried to open your eyes and look at her. Your entire body burned sickeningly. Sharp bouts of stabbing and searing pain lit your nerves on fire, and you couldn’t keep still as you writhed. “It feels like I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying,” she reassured you. “Let me do it, Stephen.”

He turned to look at you, his gaze full of sympathy before he gave her a single nod. Immediately, red magic blossomed to life around her fingertips. Those fingers then reached to your other cheek to cup it in warmth.

“Go to sleep, детка,” she murmured, her accent weaving around the words that you were compelled to obey.

Wanda watched as her magic washed over you, the red seeping into your skin before it manifested in your eyes. Red met red, her eyes meeting yours as magic emanated in both, and your breathing slowed. The pain was easing away from you, whether done so by Wanda or the morphine that was being injected into your IV, but your body slumped back in the bed and went slack.

“Don’t let me die, Wands,” you whispered, your eyes fluttering as they began to shut. “Please.”

“I’ll be right here, baby.”

It was all you heard before everything faded into nothing.

***

A kiss on your cheek and the rhythmic beeps of a machine next to you was what coaxed you awake. You took a deep breath, your head throbbing as your eyes fluttered. Already, the lighting in the room was dimmed, so when you forced your eyes open, all you had to do was blink away the blurriness. Wanda came into focus slowly, and you saw the dried tear tracks on her cheeks. Her eyes were horribly red, but not from her magic. She sniffled before she slightly leaned over you.

“Y/n?”

You gave her a groggy smile. “Hey there, baby girl,” you croaked.

Wanda smiled at the pet name, and this time, when she gently kissed you, she did so on your lips. It was wet from her tears, but you savored it all the same.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered when she pulled away, but she shook her head.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I promised that I would be safe and come back to you. I fucked up.”

She was already shaking her head, her hand cupping your cheek again. “You came back, and then you took a bullet for me, babe. I almost lost you.”

The moment she said it, you had a broken flash of memory flit through you where you heard Dr. Cho yell that they were losing you.

“I died, didn’t I?” you whispered, and all Wanda could do was nod before she broke, more sobs spilling from her. She mumbled something in Russian to herself, but then spoke to you.

“I was so fucking scared, Y/n. So goddamn scared. I really thought that I was going to lose you.”

Despite the pain it caused you, you gently leaned up, careful of the wires and needles attached to your arms, and pulled Wanda in for a hug. You remembered begging her to not let you die, and you shook your head at yourself. The words had been out of your mouth before you could think of them, not that you could. Your biggest fear, in that moment, was leaving her behind when you wanted to build a future with her. Wanda was your forever and ever. You buried your nose into her hair and inhaled. It smelled like her shampoo, and you let the scent fill you before you pulled back and placed a kiss on her forehead.

“You’re not going to lose me, Wanda, not when there isn’t a force that can keep me from you. I am so in love with you.”

She pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw. “I love you too, малыш. In every life and the next.”

Wanda laced her fingers through yours and held you close. From down the hall, you heard voices approach, and you looked at her with bewildered eyes.

“You had to know that the team was going to want to see you,” she said with a smile.

You chuckled and kissed the back of her hand. “Of course, of course.”

You wanted nothing more than to be surrounded by your family.