#so i just stood ten feet away with the knife held up as they practiced their overhand pitches at my exposed limbs

[payasita]

discovered nothing endears you to children in the 10-12 range more than walking up to them and saying the words "do you guys wanna help me test a knife" and then letting them pelt you with wild citrus

[saltiestblkgirlofall]

Spark [Prologue]

Summary: She is a spymaster, not a warden. A hunter, not a caretaker. Yet here she is, trusted with the keys that hold the prison of one Erik "Killmonger" Stevens.

Notes: So I'm taking another crack at Flame not only because it seems like the BP fic corner of tumblr is coming alive but also because I sincerely miss writing about Fatuma and Erik. I'm busting it into three distinct stories--the first of which is Spark. Spark will probably only be about ten chapters, then I'll move onto Flame then I'll have the closer. Hopefully I can stick to a schedule of Friday updates. If you'd like to be tagged, let me know and I'll add you to the list!

Word Count: 1.25k

Warnings: Descriptions of death and violence in this chapter!

|| Next

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The head of the pack should always lead the hunt.

Her mother’s words echoed in her ears as she crossed the room. Beyond the rotted wooden walls, rain thundered upon the roof tiles, dripping from beneath piecemeal attempts at plugging holes, collecting in stagnant little pools around the large hall. Its windows were practically caked with dust, mud and smoke, so much so that a great flash of lightning barely lit the space. She struggled to not limp, ignoring the burn in her side, harshly breathing air through flared nostrils. Her teeth were savagely bared in a grimace, and her fingers tightened into a fist.

She stopped just short of a series of crates, upon which was sat Wakandan technology.

“She-Wolf.” The man below her whispered. There were bruises on his body, gashes and wounds. Already she could smell the death in the air. She stood over him, her feet on either side of his wounded belly, torn open in their vicious scrap. He defiantly glared up at her, one black eye nearly swollen shut. He still held a short vibranium blade in his hand, the point jutted out towards her, but he did not have the strength to wield it. Still, he persisted. His mettle was stupid.

(She was proud of his audacity. Firm and unrepentant to the bitter end. She would smile, in time, at this defiance—the burning Wakandan spirit present in all Dogs.)

“Since when do we accept orders from outsiders?” The She-Wolf pressed her heel against the man’s throat, watching as he gasped sharply and then struggled for air. His fingers finally slackened, and the knife fell against the floor with a dull ‘thud’. “A dog takes orders from its master.” Her rhetoric was demeaning, but necessary. War Dogs did not take their pledge—their oath—lightly. In a gesture unnervingly childish, she hissed, “Are you a stray now?”

His answer was gurgled, a thin hissing of breath and teeth from between bruised and bloodied lips. Fatuma, heel still firmly planted on his jugular, looked over. 

His three partners lay dead around the room, victims of their struggle and her hand. 

Babatunde. 

Oro. 

Alyaya. 

She turned her attention to the wheezing man under her heel. His breaths were coming slower, his eyes losing focus. The bullet he had fired into her side was finally pushed out of her body, the metal dropping onto the floor with a soft ‘plunk’. Removing her foot from his neck, she knelt down next to him, and he looked over at her. Carefully, she pulled his head onto her lap. 

She pushed one of his locs back from his face and stared into his good eye.“Kutheni unokwenza into enje? Umele ukuba uyazi ukuba oku kuya kuphela njani.” 

His defiance was fading as was his very life. He reached up and she grabbed his trembling, clammy hand. When he spoke again, it was with the fight drained away. 

“Bafuna uncedo lwethu, ingcuka.” Her heart softened. She reached out and stroked his forehead with her open palm. 

“I know.” She whispered back, “Umkhonze kakuhle ukumkani wakho.” 

He gave her a shaky grin, one which spoke to repentance and resignation and sadness. Then his dark eyes rolled towards the ceiling and went glassy. His heart stopped beating and his grip on her hand slackened. 

Now, it was only her.

The sound of her own labored breathing filled the air and she limped over to their make-shift console. Another bullet pushed its way from her thigh, sending a ripple of pain and agony through her form, doubling her over. They had set up in an abbey of all places, in a district of London which saw less foot traffic with each passing day. Her Talon Wing was concealed by reflective technology in the courtyard. 

As her burning pain receded to a dull throb, she forced herself to carry their bodies out to the ship, one by one.  Wrapped them carefully with the linen that was on ever Fighter, in case of…incidents. More care would be paid to their bodies, once they were returned to Wakanda.  When she wrapped the last body, her hand lingered on his face.  

Kwame. 

Staggering back out to the small room they had been set up in, she lightly rapped the floorboards. A dull, hollow echo was her refrain and she almost smiled. A basement. Good, that means it will collapse in on itself. There was no small amount of refuse, paper, twigs and leaves that could be used as kindling. Gasoline, also kept on the Talon, was copiously dumped upon the pile. 

A half-hour later, she had set up the perfect scene. 

Pulling a cigarette from her  pocket, she lit it and took a long drag. Her guilty pleasure. Stared silently at her arranged crime scene. Dragged once again, the smoke bellowing from both her lips and her nostrils. The nicotine tasted sour on her tongue. She could see her aunt’s frowning face all now. 

She flicked the lighter once, twice, three times. She’d gotten it from a bodega, fourteen years ago during a mission to America. Carried it around for ‘good luck’. 

Her beads vibrated. 

“Ingcuka?” 

“Nakia.” She rasped, and took another drag. “How did the retrieval of the Hong Kong dogs go?”

“Two dead, two recaptured.” The woman sounded relieved and the She-Wolf hummed. “How did it go on your end, Ingcuka?” 

She just took another drag and let out a non-commital, tired grunt. 

“And the NYC dogs?” 

“Halima is on her way back with two. The other three…” Nakia let the implications hang in the air.

“Ten neutralized, four successfully brought into custody.” The cigarette was burning low now, and Fatuma’s chest was tight. What an awful waste. Lives brought to such an end and for what? A usurper? A train screeched in the distance. Beneath the smell of old wood and trash was the stench only a thousand years of rot could produce. Was there anywhere in Wakanda which smelled so foul? Fatuma cleared her throat. “The Hatut Zeraze failed to properly identify and neutralize a threat to Wakanda at its source, I intend to take full responsibility for this incident.” 

“Ingcuka.” Nakia said.

Her beads vibrated. A direct summons from the King to return home.

A strange feeling curled in the She-Wolf’s gut. “Nakia, is there something the King hasn’t told me?” 

“Come home.” Nakia insisted again. “There are things we cannot say over the network.” 

“…” Fatuma pitched the cigarette into the pile of gas and scraps. It caught flame just as she stepped over the threshold. By the time anyone noticed the fire, any evidence of her existence would already be burned away. By the time that the firefighters arrived, the room—if not half of the abbey—would be a husk. 

Some faceless truant or ne’er do well would be blamed, but no one would be charged. It would be chalked up to senseless vandalism. The structure would eventually be forgotten, the remnants bulldozed, something else taking its place before the year was out. Or perhaps it might become an open, barren lot, where children played and got up to mischief. 

She boarded her ship, looked back at the wrapped set of bodies. She laced her fingers together, bowing her head in a bastardized form of prayer. The throbbing in her side was gone.

Babatunde. 

Oro. 

Alyaya. 

Kwame.

Fatuma sighed and lifted off. The dead would be mourned later. The losses would be counted later. It was time to go home.

Halfway over the space above Egypt, she received a dossier. 

Prince N’Jadaka Udaku

Alias: Erik ‘Killmonger’ Stevens

Status: Alive

It was to her great relief that no one was around to hear her scream. 

Translations:

Kutheni unokwenza into enje? Umele ukuba uyazi ukuba oku kuya kuphela njani. - Why would you do something like this? You must have known how this would end.

Bafuna uncedo lwethu, ingcuka. - They need our help, she-wolf.

Umkhonze kakuhle ukumkani wakho. - You served your king well. 

Ingcuka: She-Wolf.

Taglist: @chaneajoyyy @muse-of-mbaku

[luimagines]

He Accidentally Hurt You pt.2

Masterlist

Set platonically and within the group Part 1

Hyrule

Your blood was pounding as your feet carried you across the battle field.

Your hearing was rendered useless by the cause, you only thoughts were on Hyrule and getting to him before the hoard of monsters did. He had somehow gotten separated from the group in the struggle and was left to fend for himself.

You made contact.

The sword in your hand followed through your practiced movements, slicing all and any between you and your target.

You could hear him in the distance, you were close, you just had to get- just a little-

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up and the air changed. The split second static was your only warning before lightning struck.

Monsters fell all around you but you failed to pay attention to that. Your attention was instead on the blinding, scalding twist in your arm that held your trusted blade. You couldn’t even find it in you to let go of the weapon, your muscles incapable to receiving orders.

The pain traveled through your arm and across your chest until it encompassed your whole being.

Screams tore through your throat without your knowledge and when the attack subsided, your whole body went rag doll and your vision went black.

“Please. Please. Please.” A voice whispered through the darkness. It was soft. Pleading. A blessed chill seemed deep into your bones and you found it within yourself to open your eyes.

Hyrule was crouched above you, tears in his eyes with shallow cuts across his tunic and exposed skin. Not a lot of blood though, your brain supplies. You take a relieved breath.

“Hey.” You croaked out in greeting. “Glad to see you’re ok. I was worried.”

“I didn’t know you were there.” He blurts as if he didn’t hear you. Maybe he didn’t. “I thought it was only monsters nearby. I don’t think I have enough magic to heal you completely. This is all my fault.”

“Fault?” You attempted to sit up. You succeed. Mostly.

A grunt leaves your mouth at the stiffness in your joints and you force yourself to power though to reach into your inventory.

A sniffle leaves your Traveler when you push his hands away when you find your target. The red liquid glints in the dying sunlight and you hand it out to him. “Think you can open it?”

He nods and pry's it open before you can even think about getting into a better sitting position.

You don’t think twice about taking the potion when he hands it back.

“Save your magic.” You say. “I’ll be fine.”

And you know you’re right....It’ll take a little more than that to convince the rest of the group when you get back though. Hyrule plans to smother you until not a single blemish is left. The others? Well... They’ll keep an eye on you.

Twilight

“Ten rupees says you can’t make that throw.” You hear Warriors say.

“Double it and I’ll gladly prove you wrong.” Twilight responds.

The book in your lap calls for attention more than whatever those two are doing for the sake of friendly competition. You don’t look up, trying to keep your eyes on the page but you can’t help the growing curiosity in the back of your head.

“What are we using to aim with?”

“That?”

“Sure.”

You roll your eyes and keep your head down.

“I’ll be twenty rupees richer and it’ll shut your mouth. Just watch.” Twilight grumbles.

There’s a tap and a growl before something comes at your head full throttle. It’s dense but not enough to keep it from exploding all into your hair and it knocks you over slightly.

You closed your book to protect it from the falling matter and reach at the spot. By your feet laying the offending object.

An apple.

They threw an apple at your head. Correction. Twilight threw an apple at your head.

The thoughts in your head spin a bit. Your whole head is throbbing but you doubt there’s any blood. You look up just in time to see Warrior and Twilight running at you as fast as they can. Twilight reaches you first and kneels next to you. “By Ordana, are you ok?”

His hands hover over you, trying to take in the damage without actually touching you.

“Who are you?” You blurt out, very quickly realizing that it was the wrong thing to say.

His face drops and Warrior wears a similar expression.

“Kidding.” A pained grin covers your face. “Take me to Hyrule please.”

“I’m so sorry.” Twilight reaches for you and you comply. Once you’re on your feet he speaks again. “Warrior messed up my shot and it hit you by accident.”

“That’s a weird way to say you lost a bet.”

You kick Warrior as payback.

Sky

“So...” You sit next to Sky during the break. “What are you planning to make this time?”

The boy next to you already had his whittling knife out and a decent sized chunk of wood in his lap. He picked it up and spun it a few times, staring into it as if he could already see the form inside it. It was just his job to take it out.

“I don’t know yet.” He admits. “Maybe it’ll come to me.”

You nod and let him work in relative silence, the faint but consistent sounds of Sky working next to you create a blissful and serene atmosphere.

The others are off doing their own thing, each keeping to themselves for the most part.

It’s nice.

“Actually, can you help me with this real quick?”

Your attention is back on Sky. He’s trying to get his knife out of the wood block, the outline of the shape he’s making already starting to form.

You don’t recognize it.

Sky picks up the knife and the whole block follows. “It got stuck.”

“How?” You raise an eyebrow and try to keep the smile off of your face.

Your response is only a shrug and the wood being thrust in your direction.

You grab it and instinctively tighten your grip on it when you feel Sky pull.

You both use your strengths to your advantage and pull in different directions. You feel the knife begin to slip out and adjust your grip. Within seconds the blade is free and you feel it cross the tip of your finger.

Instantly, the wood is dropped and you cradle your hand close to you, putting pressure on the injured digit.

“Ok, got it, thank- What happened?” Sky scoots closer to you and pulls your hands out.

A thin red line follows the length of your finger and it only seems to grow as the moments pass. It doesn’t feel deep but it certainly won’t let you flex your finger for a while.

A quite hiss leaves Sky’s lips. “Well that could’ve gone better. Sorry about that.”

“It could’ve gone worse too.” You press a little on the injury, trying to will the pain away.

It doesn’t work, but hey, you try.

“Hold on. I think I have some bandages in my pack.” Sky gets up and jogs to where most of the others are sitting. He picks up his bag and looks inside for a minute or two before jogging back to you.

A small role of bandages sits in his hand and when he reach for your hand, you don’t hesitate to give it to him.

As he’s working on your finger, you feel mild irritation bubble up in your throat. “This better not scar.”

“Why’s that?” Sky replies.

“It’ll be the lamest story.”

He laughs and finishes his work.

Time

Sometimes it surprised you how short everyone in the group was. You weren’t sure if it was a Link thing or one of the biggest coincidences of the universe because it certainly wasn’t just because they were Hylian (but that probably didn’t help).

That being said, and what you could gather from The Captain, it boggled your mind further that Time was the biggest of everyone. Warrior made it seem like he’d stay small forever, implying that Time was smaller still when he first defeated Gannon.

That didn’t seem very fair.

For him and you....well everyone, only Twilight and Warrior were the ones exempt from having to look up at the old man. But you didn’t like the idea of someone so small fighting such a beast, so Time is included in your sympathy list.

Despite his size, he seemed to move as silent as a mouse. Only Wild would be quieter than him.

After some time of traveling with them all, you realized he was just as much as a gremlin as the rest.

He was not above pranking the living daylights out of poor unsuspecting teenagers.

And the thing is, no one could catch him. Somehow he managed to get them to in the blame on each other but you knew better. You swore it had to be him. There was no way. There was no way he could count as a Link and not get into this kind of stuff.

But no one believed you.

It definitely wasn’t fair.

With the stage set, it’s safe to say now that you were calmly, peacefully and quietly minding your own business. You weren’t bothering anyone.

You were writing in your journal under a tree with some low branches. Nothing too bad but in terms of shade and angle, you found it to be the perfect resting place.

You took a deep breath in and let it out.

Yes, it was nice.

“BOO!”

You jumped as high as your reflexes you take you and spun around, but you had forgotten where you were in the moment.

With a solid thunk, your head hit the branch above you and sat back down, with a curse.

While there was laughter in the your reaction, it was cut off abruptly at the first sign of pain. “Oh jeeze, I’m sorry. How bad does it hurt?”

A whimper escaped your mouth before you could stop it and you closed your journal, choosing to furiously rub your hands against the now tender spot on the top of your head. “Ow Time. Why did you do that?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d move like that.” He moved your hands away and inspected the area for himself. “No bleeding. Doesn’t look like it’ll need a potion...”

“I blame you.” You grumbled. “This is your fault.”

“I can accept that.” He nodded and stepped back. “There’s not much we can do about it in terms of healing, but perhaps Hyrule would be willing to lend a hand.”

“No way. He’d ask how it happened and I’m not going to lie to him.” You pouted. “No one will believe me if I told them the truth.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s you!” You glared at him.

A tiny giggle escaped from the so called Old Man of the group, Mr. Stick in the Mud. Senor Buzzkill. “And why would that make a difference?”

“I cannot believe you... Actually yes I can, you were doing this on purpose the whole time.”

He laughed more fully this time and didn’t seem to let up.

With a pout, you picked up your book and marched away.

One day you’ll get back at him. You just had to figure out how and when.

Four

“So, how do we play this game again?” You picked up the ball one of your companions took out. It was almost the size of your head and had crisscrossing lines. It was white and weighed less than you originally thought.

It was a relatively slow day and no one felt in the mood to dampen it by looking for trouble.

While Twilight and Warrior set up the net that was supposed to go with it, the rest were waiting and going over the rules.

“Just hit the ball over the net. You can’t the ball twice in a row, someone else has to hit it and if it touches the ground you lose the point.”

“Seems simple enough.” Wild takes the ball from you and tosses it a few times.

It takes a while for all the appropriate moves to be demonstrated but you all play the game with ease.

You were having a good time with your friends. Everyone was actually getting along for a change. With a smile on your face, you waited for the moment that would inevitably change.

You swore you could almost pin point when it happened.

With Four right across from you, his sudden change in stance gave away the glint in his eyes.

The ball came to him and he jumped up, higher than you thought he could and spiked.

Next thing you knew, you were on the ground, stunned and slightly disoriented and your face was hurting.

Four ran to your side as the game was halted. “That... was not what I was intending.”

“You don’t say... Can I step out for a minute?” You asked, trying to get your feet. Four helped you get away from the battle field- I mean, the game area and helped you sit back down against a nearby tree.

“Sorry about that.” He smiled apologetically. “Anything I can do to help?”

You looked up at him hopefully. “Lose the game?”

“Not a chance.”

[heytherejulietx]

hey! i don’t know if i sent this before but could you write a richie x reader where reader protects the losers from bowers? and she gets injured but doesn’t show it until she passes out?

bowers - richie tozier

↳ i hope this turned out alright for you nonnie! 🤍

↳ content warnings - violence, bullying, injury mention, blood, swearing, sex jokes, aged up losers.

↳ 3.5k word count

↳ masterlists

@bucky-j-barnes @mikewheelerc join my tag list

y/n decided that she absolutely detested her english teacher.

it was one of the last days of school before summer, and yet she’d been kept back for an extra hour to tutor some asshole in her class who hadn’t even been bothered to read their set text for that month (to be fair, richie also hadn’t read the text, but she supposed he wasn’t as much of an asshole because she loved him. boyfriend perks or some shit. and she also wasn’t staying back to tutor him, too). so whilst the rest of the losers had been let out of school she had to wait until she could catch up with them after. so she hated her english teacher and by extension the idiot that she had to tutor.

she’d had one good tutoring experience, and that was because richie genuinely needed help writing a history paper. it was only good because they got ten minutes in before they forgot the essay completely and ended up making out in his bedroom for the rest of the “tutor session”. richie had said they spent their time well and he didn’t regret it when his paper was graded poorly, and y/n smacked the back of his head. it was his fault they ended up making out in the first place. obviously.

so when four o’clock rolled around y/n left the practically empty school with a scowl on her face. her bike - usually surrounded by the bikes of the rest of the losers - stood alone as she walked towards it and unlocked the bike chain before she got on and rode off away from the school. richie had said to find them by the clubhouse, but as much as she loved him, she took stan’s word that they’d probably be by the local park instead. stan usually had the best idea of what was going on.

after a little while of peddling through derry y/n found herself approaching the park with a sigh of relief. she was tired and honestly wouldn’t mind listening to richie and eddie bickering like an old married couple for the next however long. she’d have preferred it to tutoring the asshole. though as she came to the edge of the street she screeched her bike to a stop, spotting the losers on the other side of the street with bowers in front of them.

from where she was stood she couldn’t quite hear what was being said, but she could see richie stood right in front of bowers yelling something about “shouldn’t you be off blowing your cousin” and beverly stood beside him, hands on her hips as she glared bowers down. bill was stood behind richie, trying (and failing) to get him to back down, with eddie on his other side with an inhaler in hand. stan stood shuffling on his feet nervously beside mike, whilst ben was keeping an eye on beverly.

y/n got off of her bike and stood it up against the wall of some building beside her as she frowned at the scene. she hurriedly searched henry’s hands for any sign of his knife and was thoroughly surprised when she didn’t see it. until she noticed it peeking out from his back pocket.

memories of seeing ben’s scar on his stomach for the first time made her glower at the back of henry’s head, angry at the thought of him hurting any of the other losers again.

she spotted an empty glass bottle on the floor and without thinking lifted it up and hurled it through the air towards bowers. it shattered against his upper back and the shouting went silent as they all turned to face her, bowers with a murderous glare on his face.

“hey bowers!” she shouted, hands on her hips, matching bev’s stance. “what’s it gonna take for you to chop that mullet off, dude? shit’s fuckin’ ugly man!”

although y/n wasn’t completely alike her boyfriend (mostly in the sense that she could calm down if she wanted to, and richie was constantly at a state of maximum energy at any given point) they were alike in their mannerisms if y/n really got going. she maybe even had bigger balls than he did, as stan once pointed out. she didn’t shy away from conflict - she probably ended up making it worse sometimes, to be honest.

she didn’t look away from bowers but she could feel eight pairs of eyes on her. though the death glare that she was defiantly staring back at was definitely the strongest. she’d maybe even be a little bit scared if she wasn’t too pissed off to care.

as bowers started crossing the street towards her, shouting nasty and horrible things her way, y/n sent a look towards stan and bill and nodded in the opposite direction. they needed to get the losers away before it kicked off with bowers, because she knew that richie and bev would be eager to get themselves involved too. the whole point of distracting bowers was so they wouldn’t be.

stan and bill had hands on the other losers arms, and from where she was stood she heard something close to “she’ll lose him then meet us around the corner“. once she was sure that the boys had it covered she faced henry again, stepping back a little as he got closer though she didn’t lose her glare.

“what the fuck are you playing at?” bowers spat, stopping directly in front of her. she could see small shards of glass sticking in his hair and inwardly smirked to herself.

“the bully act is a little old, isn’t it? you’re pathetic.” she stood her ground with as much ferocity he had, momentarily forgetting about the knife he had, though it was quickly brought to her attention when it was taken out of his back pocket and the tip was pointed at her.

y/n stumbled back a little on instinct, though tried to keep her stance the same. bowers was slowly closing in on her - she only had so much pavement left behind her before a wall. though just as he raised it to send a slash her way, she spotted blue lights in the distance and smirked.

“i’d watch it, bowers,” she nodded in the direction of the sheriff’s cruiser, knowing fully well that his father was in the car. “wouldn’t want daddy catching you with a big-boy blade.”

the cop car drove right down their street and past them, and y/n thought that it would be okay to turn and walk away with a final gesture of her middle finger his way.

big mistake.

she got a few steps away as the cruiser went down the street, though she didn’t take into account that bowers might come at her again. just as she glanced down the street, wondering what side street the losers could have taken to get away, she felt a hand grab the strap of her backpack and yanked her backwards onto the floor, winding her with a wheeze as she landed on the pavement. as she tried to forcefully drag in a breath of air she could see bowers towered over her, blade still in hand, and panicked. he had a fucking knife and she was laying on her back, defenceless.

her hand reached out beside her to grab the first thing she could on the floor and when her fingers circled around one of the larger shards of glass from the bottle she threw mere minutes before she swiped at him with it, taking his moment of leaning back away from it to scramble up to her feet.

“the fuck is your problem, man?” she wheezed, still somewhat winded, now sounding like eddie. she could feel her heart beating out of her chest, almost painfully thumping against her ribcage.

instead of an answer bowers pushed her back again and she landed on the floor once more, the shard of glass falling from her hand. breathing through her teeth, knowing she didn’t have enough time to stand up again since bowers was so close, she rolled onto her stomach to reach and grab the shard of glass, planning to turn back towards bowers to defend herself.

y/n misjudged how long that would take, because before she could turn back around she felt a sudden pain to the back of her leg, along with the sound of her jeans tearing. fuck, did he cut her? if he did he probably didn’t do it very deep because it didn’t hurt terribly bad. y/n still yelped in surprise, though, and kicked him away before she got to her feet again, glass in hand again.

the knife he was holding was coated in blood and it made her feel sick to stare at him, a sadistic fucking smile on his face. y/n would honestly rather have tea with michael meyers over that.

thinking on her feet she threw the glass at him and managed to hit him in the face. bowers groaned in pain and immediately covered the spot with his hand, and y/n wasted no time in turning to run away from him.

through being winded twice the drags of air she took in were audible and wheezy, hurting her throat and chest with every intake of breath. she debated on tackling eddie for his inhaler when she saw him. her shoes slapped against the pavement loudly as she ran down the street and down the first alleyway she saw, hoping the losers were somewhere close. she could already feel herself tiering, and she didn’t want bowers catching up to her again when she had less energy. she’d be much worse off.

thankfully the losers were quite literally right in front her, as when she had turned to run down another side street she collided with richie and almost sent them both tumbling down, if not for mike and ben who managed to hold the both of them up.

“fucking hell-“ she was still wheezing, gripping onto richie’s ugly shirt in tight fists once she was back on her feet. “are you guys okay?”

“we should be asking you that, holy fuck,” richie’s eyes were wide as he held onto her arms to keep her steady. “you sound like eddie.” he added, ignoring the complaint behind his back at the comment.

with richie keeping his hands on her arms bev rubbed her back from where she was stood on her left side, eyes kept on her face. y/n had momentarily forgotten about the cut on her leg because the rush of adrenaline she was feeling kept her from noticing it, and she was wearing black jeans so the blood wouldn’t really show on the material.

“i’m okay,” she nodded, breathing slowly but surely becoming an easier task as she continued to hang off of richie’s shirt, which he seemed like he didn’t mind. “i’m fine.”

“badass taking on bowers like that,” eddie commented, earning a chuckle from the rest of the losers. “i don’t think anybody else would have actually done it.”

“hey!” richie complained, turning to face eddie though he kept a hand on y/n’s arm. “i totally could have done that.”

“no offence rich, but i do have bigger balls than you.” y/n poked him in the chest and earned a playful glare in return.

as richie and eddie started arguing like usual y/n blinked a few times. the adrenaline was wearing off, and the supposed scratch on the back of her leg grew more and more painful the longer she stood there. she grimaced, eyebrows furrowing slightly as she inhaled deeply through her nose. the back of her thigh felt oddly warm, like warm water was running down her leg, though she immediately dismissed the idea that it was blood. no, she’d know if it was that serious. she couldn’t have run all that way with a deep cut in her leg, could she?

“y/n?” she blinked a few times and looked up, meeting stan’s concerned gaze in front of her, soon followed by the rest of the losers taking suit. “are you okay?”

“yeah,” she exhaled deeply, attempting to step forwards, though the movement was so wobbly that immediately richie grabbed one of her forearms to keep her steady. “just peachy, stan-the-man. i think i just need to sit down…” she attempted to step forwards again, though this time the wobbling was more prominent, and she fell right towards stanley as her eyes rolled back.

-

“fuck!” richie had immediately reached forwards in the attempt to catch her before she fell on stanley, and with the help of stan and mike he managed to lower her to the floor.

“oh my god!” eddie was shrill with panic, taking in worried breaths already. “bowers killed y/n!”

“she’s not dead you fucking idiot!” stan yelled back, though his face was pale with worry too.

richie tried to block the bickering out when bev and mike joined too as he crouched beside her, hands a little shaky as he tried to check her over for any injuries, ben doing the same from where he stood. he couldn’t see anything, though a puddle of blood forming underneath her left thigh spoke for itself, and immediately he was panicking too.

“fuck! eddie her leg!” richie was shouting too, hoping eddie knew something about what the fuck was going on due to his extensive medical knowledge.

eddie crouched on the floor beside her leg, gritting his teeth to hold back the willing heave from the sight of blood as he tried to see what had happened. with the help of bev who lifted her leg up, eddie gasped and almost made richie go into cardiac arrest.

“what?! what is it?! is her leg falling off or something?!” now he was sounding like eddie.

“bowers cut her-“ eddie almost heaved again though swallowed it down to speak again. “it’s bad. she needs to get to the hospital she’s losing a fuck ton of blood.”

“fuck-“ richie felt nauseous with worry, and his hands shook as one moved to her cheek, shaking her slightly as if she would wake up. when she continued just to lay there he pulled off his shirt with trembling fingers and leaned over her body towards her leg. “she needs something tied to stop the blood flow, right?” he spoke quickly as he looked up at eddie, who had his hands clamped over his mouth as he tried to keep from throwing up. “RIGHT?” he yelled, impatient.

eddie nodded frantically as his hand dug into his fanny pack for his inhaler and richie wasted no time in wrapping his shirt around her leg, and tied a knot tightly above the cut, not bothered by the blood staining it. once it was tied beverly lowered her leg back down to the floor.

all of the losers had the same sort of expression on their faces; shock. whether it was shown through wheezing like eddie or standing as still as a statue like stan, they all had the same almost ghostly look to their expression.

“there’s a phone booth down the street, i’ll go call an ambulance.” bev announced before she took off running in the direction of the phone.

richie sat back on his heels, pretending his hands weren’t stained with his girlfriends blood as he took her hand and sat it in her lap. he could feel his heart thumping against his ribs and just prayed that the ambulance would get there soon.

-

y/n blinked almost furiously under the sudden harsh light, it hurt her head to look at it. the bed she was laying in was uncomfortable and the room smelt like disinfectant. eddie better not have cleaned my room again, she thought. the last time he had done it was because she had a stomach bug and “the germs could spread and get everyone sick!“, so she didn’t see why he had reason to do it now.

once her eyes had adjusted to the brightness of the room she glanced around and was suddenly taken aback by where she was; the hospital.

y/n immediately sat up, suddenly wide awake, though she flinched when she felt something grab her hand and turned to see what it was, thoughts of bowers and his blood-coated knife flashing in her mind. though she relaxed slightly when she saw richie sat there instead, his hand over hers.

“it’s not even summer yet and you’re already having adventures. look at you go.” his teasing voice filled the room, though she could see in his eyes that he wasn’t completely carefree like usual.

y/n smiled a little as she leaned back against the pillows of her bed and shrugged. “what can i say? i’m just way cooler than you.” she teased as she moved her fingers gently against his to link them together.

richie scoffed in mock offence though a moment later he’d leaned forwards, his other hand over their linked ones. “you feel okay?” his voice was soft and genuine, a tone she only ever heard from richie when they were alone.

she blinked a few times at the question, and suddenly the pain in her leg had registered and she winced. “my leg hurts.”

“i’d expect so after bowers fucking sliced you open,” richie grumbled. he looked angry and concerned and different. y/n rarely saw him so serious. “when i see him next i’m going to kill him.”

“no, rich,” y/n shook her head, frowning a little as she squeezed his hand a little firmer. “i’m okay. just leave it. it’ll get worse.”

richie sighed though nodded, his gaze focused on their interlocked hands. y/n waited another moment before she shuffled over on the bed (and grit her teeth to suppress the grunt of pain from moving her leg, which richie picked up on anyways) before she pat the bed beside her and tugged on richie’s arm. “in.”

“not the first time you’ve said that.” richie snorted as he stood up, and let go of her hand so he could climb onto the bed beside her. once he had settled comfortably against the pillows y/n tucked herself into his side, and closed her eyes once her head had dropped against his shoulder.

after a moment she could feel the tips of richie’s fingers dragging up and down her arm, tracing invisible patterns along her skin. his lips pressed to the crown of her head and in return she gently left a kiss to his collarbone with a quiet hum, though kept her eyes closed.

“you didn’t have to put yourself in harms away for us today,” richie mumbled. “i totally could have handled it.” he added jokingly, not able to stay serious for long.

“oh i’m sure,” y/n smirked slightly before she shook her head and sighed. “i saw the knife in his back pocket and thought of ben and what he did to him. i couldn’t imagine him doing that again to any of you. i’d do anything for you guys,” her voice was so soft it was almost a whisper, and when she looked up richie was already looking at her. “especially you.” she added, almost silent.

richie brought his tree hand up and brushed some hair out of his face as he looked at her, surprisingly not cracking a joke or even a smirk that time. instead his expression was soft; a rarity for sure. his gaze softened and he had a half-smile that made y/n almost swoon, despite being in a hospital bed.

“that means a lot,” richie told her genuinely. “i just don’t like seeing you get hurt, doll.”

“i know, but i’m okay.” she insisted, sitting up a little against his side as she looked at him.

“you’re almost okay,” he corrected, as his fingers tapped against the thigh of the leg that was hurt. “just don’t throw yourself in front of bowers for us again, okay?”

“‘kay. promise.” she smiled, and her eyes closed shut again when richie pressed a soft, loving kiss to her lips.

“as much as i’d love to enjoy this moment,” richie pulled away, his usual smirk back on his face. “eddie is probably outside going through his third inhaler, and stan’s hair probably dropped out from stress.”

y/n laughed and shook her head, though she knew richie really wasn’t far off.

almost as if the losers had heard them, the door opened so quickly and with so much force that it slammed against the wall beside it, revealing (surely) eddie hugging his inhaler and stan looking sick with stress, followed by the other losers.

“yo stan, you look like you just saw under eddie’s mom’s skirt.” richie called over, and immediately eddie was cursing at him as he stepped forwards.

y/n giggled to herself as she tucked against richie’a side, watching the usual bickering start up again. back to normal, she thought to herself.

[cursestothemoon]

I Won’t Say I’m In Love

iii.

Fred Weasley x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Warnings: forced intimacy, suggestive themes, strong language, fighting (verbal and physical), Adrian being a sleazy jerk, Adrian speaking of nonconsensual acts (nothing graphic or intense)

Summary: Fred overhears Adrian and suddenly everything is different, now he needs to go talk to Y/n one last time.

Word Count: 4253

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

Patroclus fought with the form and art of Achilles. He wore his helmet and bore his shield, he took long strides to embody the aura of the hero.

But Patroclus was not Achilles.

It was his hubris, his poisonous pride that drove the knife of the enemy through his gut.

And as Patroclus lay dying, his pride trickling out of his fatal wound, he thought of Achilles and he thought of love and war and hubris, and how it was a sick twist bestowed upon the mortals from the gods that all three would be intertwined with an unbreakable bind.

It was in a similar fashion to Patroclus that Fred now lay in the midst of a battlefield deserted, his pride slowly seeping out of his fatal wounds. Only Fred hadn’t been struck down by an enemy. No, Fred had attained his wounds from himself, his pride playing the parts of enemy, sword, and blood in his battle.

The fight was explosive, and Fred was feeling the aftershocks of it all as he remained where he had been for the last ten minutes. Ten minutes since she walked away from him. Ten minutes since he bared his teeth and snarled, a rabid dog taking over his judgment.

Regret is not a big enough word, not strong enough nor capable of expressing the sharp, shredding feeling that Fred felt inside. And as he took a step, the fight played out before him as a scene in front of a director, he had to stop himself from doubling over and being sick.

How could he?

Why would he?

Did he really have such little control that he seemingly blacked out completely and let his jealous rage take over?

With blinding speed Fred moved for the first time in now twenty minutes. He took quick steps toward the tree that he could still see her figure leaning against if he tried hard enough, and hit the bark with a hard punch. He wasn’t sure if the echoing crack was from the tree or his hand but nevertheless he reeled his fist back and layed another blow onto the innocent tree. Two became three, then four, then five soon enough every hit melded into one frenzy of rage and guilt and regret, leaving his knuckles torn, bloodied, and bruised while his chest began to heave.

Fred pulled his fist back again, but instead of a powerful blow it jutted with a stutter before he placed it on the bark to steady himself, his head falling forward making the roughness of the tree hit his forehead as he took in deep breaths. Shoulders slumped and eyes screwed shut, anger faded along with jealousy, leaving behind only his painful regret.

He gathered himself before trudging to meet George on the quidditch pitch, his sullen demeanor, unnaturally pale face, and lacerated knuckles letting the younger twin know that there was no confession of love or making amends between the two.

“Freddie…”

***

Y/n dried her tears and held her head up high as she walked back into the castle, Lily waiting for her by the entrance. She had seen the fight, Y/n knew it too, but neither of them mentioned it as they made their way deeper into the castle and to their dorm. They had made a plan to get butterbeers and Y/n would be damned if she let some fight with a boy get in the way of her enjoying her time with her best friend.

Quidditch practice, on the other hand, was disastrous.

Slytherin and Gryffindor had been scheduled to share the pitch for practice today, a plan made by the two heads of houses who didn’t want to deal with the captains fighting over the pitch again.

Tensions were high on the field as Adrian took it upon himself to make his presence known to Fred at any chance given. The aforementioned Gryffindor was quick to slug bludgers in his direction with a force fueled by hatred.

Angelina and Marcus called practice twenty minutes early, both of them having enough sense to know that someone was going to get hurt soon if the two boys weren’t separated- Marcus needed more persuading but begrudgingly agreed.

“Oi! Weasley!”

Both Fred and George turned to Angelina, the latter with a lighter energy.

“Fred, I don’t know what’s going on with you today but next practice I need your head in the game.”

Fred nodded passively before turning on his heels and walking to the locker rooms. George gave Angelina an apologetic shrug before following after his brother.

To get to the Gryffindor locker rooms it was necessary to pass by the Slytherin locker rooms, an unfortunate layout choice by whoever was responsible for the placement. Fred flexed his hand, fists opening and closing, as he walked past the open door. His eyes darkened with an emotion so strong it bled down to his reddening cheeks. George, the twin known for his more empathetic tendencies, could feel the anger sizzle in the air as Adrian’s voice sounded from inside the locker room.

“-you know I always get what I want in the end.” He chuckled, in conversation with someone.

Fred thought to keep walking, to ignore the conversation and move on from it all, even George was adamant on trying to nudge his brother to keep walking, but something kept him standing there with Fred, just hidden from the open doorway.

“Fred come on mate, it’s just going to rile you up.” George tried to reason with his twin in a harsh whisper.

The boy instead brought a finger up to his lips telling his brother to keep quiet as he tried to listen. This resulted in an eye roll from George, knowing there was no changing Fred’s mind once he was stuck on something.

“Is she any good?” The voice belonged to Marcus Flint.

In the locker room Adrian was leaning against his locker talking to Marcus about Y/n and how everything seemed to be falling into place for him.

Adrian gave a shrug as he thought about the question seriously for a moment before a grin split his face making Marcus chuckle.

“When she isn’t fighting it, yeah Y/n’s good. Ever since she had the falling out with the weasel she’s been a lot… easier to deal with.”

Marcus furrowed his brows, “How’d you mean?”

“Before she used to fight me. Push me away, get mad, yell. But after the whole thing with him she just doesn’t care to fight anymore. I should thank him, just today I had seen him walking in our direction so I made sure to give him a good show.”

“And you’re sure Weasley saw?”

Adrian nodded with a proud smile, “Oh yeah, he definitely saw us. They had a nasty fight too, I imagine it won’t be too long until I can get her alone so I can get her knickers off like old times. After that fight I doubt she’d have enough energy to really try to fight me off. I mean she can only say no so many times.”

Marcus had gone silent, offering his friend a curt nod trying not to show his discomfort for how far Adrian was willing to go.

Just on the other side of the entrance Fred was seeing red.

“I’ll kill him.” He seethed to an equally enraged George, who was glad he didn’t force Fred to leave.

With impeccable timing Adrian walked out of the door, now in front of the twins.

“Pucey.” George called, but Fred wasn’t one for words at the moment.

No, instead he took two long strides toward the sleazy Slytherin before throwing his fist into his face. The force caused Adrian to stumble back a few steps and fall into a kneeling position before he reached for his wand that had been placed in the waistband of his trousers. Fred was quicker, fortunately, and knocked it out of his hand.

“Come on, fight me like an honorable wizard, Weasley.” Adrian sneered getting up to his feet.

Fred, who had left his wand in his locker, shook his head, “Won’t be needing a wand to turn your face inside out, Pucey.”

That was the last statement before he lunged into Adrian a fight ensuing. George stood back cheering on his brother, who clearly had the advantage, only stopping to put a warning hand on Marcus Flint’s chest- he looked as though he was going to go to his friend's aid.

Fred was relentless with his hits, slugging him over and over again. He was blind with rage, arms detailed with ever present viens and the slightest of blood splatter from Adrian’s nose and mouth. The aforementioned boy was trying his best to block Fred’s painful jab’s to any point of his body that could be reached.

“Go.” George spat with venom in a slow drawl, his tone was intimidating. Intimidating and threatening enough to get Marcus to, reluctantly, walk away.

He was like a man possessed, the more Adrian bled the more he wanted to keep going. Fred was adamant on beating his anger into Adrian, his anger with the Slytherin and with himself.. It was happening right in front of him, Y/n was being used right in front of him and he couldn’t see it. He let his insecurities get the better of him and now he was rolling around in the mud with Adrian Pucey who had just landed a single punch to Fred’s jaw making it ache. His bruising jaw was the least of his worries however and grabbed Adrian by the collar of his shirt, lifting him a few inches off the ground before slamming him down again. He repeated this action until it seemed Adrian was slipping in and out of consciousness and his own nail beds were begging for respite from how tightly he was gripping the fabric.

Fred threw him down one last time before standing up over his bloodied body, George coming to his side and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“You did it, Fred. He’s learned his lesson.”

He got a nod in response and he dropped his hand slowly as his eyes shifted to the groaning boy on the floor. George would’ve joined in beating the boy to a pulp, he was itching to really, but he knew this was something Fred needed to do himself.

The older twin curled his lip in a snarl as he crouched down again, his elbows resting on his bent knees as he spoke.

“Talk like that, do those things again to anyone…” Fred brought a hand to grab Adrian’s jaw and turn his face as he gave his work an appraising once over. “And I’ll kill you.”

He gave his face a harsh shove in the opposite direction making the boy wince before he straightened up and started walking away from the scene, away from the locker rooms.

George furrowed his brow before calling out, “Where are you off to?”

“To find her.”

***

Y/n and Lily were on their way back from Hogsmeade, the thick sweetness of butterbeer still coating their tongues. The fight wasn’t mentioned, not without an attempt from Lily, but it was evident with the way Y/n shutdown, her words coming out jumbled, and fingers wringing together that she did not want to talk about it.

The walk back was filled with light conversation until Lily got annoyed with how her friend was behaving.

“You know your whole act is making me sick.” She stated, her tone neutral.

Y/n was taken aback for a moment trying to figure what happened, “Lil-”

“And when I’m not sick, I’m tired. I am sick and tired of this back and forth game. You didn’t want to talk earlier, that’s fine it was still fresh. But you can’t keep bottling it up like this, you’ll kill yourself.”

The only response she got was a sigh before Y/n started to talk just barely above a whisper.

“He’s just like everyone else, Lily. He believes everything people say about me.” She sniffled but continued to speak, “If I had known that Adrian would… do what he did, say what he did, I never would’ve lost my virginity to him but rumors start and I can’t stop that.”

Lily seemed to be in thought before speaking, “I’m sorry I didn’t notice earlier, didn't do anything. I won’t leave you alone with him, ever, I promise.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was quiet and barely heard above the crunch of gravel under their feet.

“And Fred? How do you feel about him?”

Y/n shrugged, collecting herself before she spoke, “It’s over. I’ll get over it. You’d think a person’s feelings would fade after such a...conversation.”

Her friend nodded, “You still love him.”

It wasn’t a question, Lily didn’t ask, she told her. Stated it as common knowledge and Y/n was tired of denying her feelings. Tired of pretending not to care and tired of holding so much in.

“Why?” Her voice was broken as she asked Lily with a hopeless voice, tears starting to freely fall down her face.

“Oh, Y/n…”

The Slytherin embraced her crying friend, more than willing to offer her much needed comfort. She knew it was difficult for Y/n to be this open with her feelings, her tears dampening the crook of Lily’s neck was not a familiar feeling.

“It hurts. I don’t want to have these feelings anymore.”

Lily felt her own eyes well with tears, “Maybe your heart knows something you don't, that’s why it won’t let you let go.”

“Well I wish it would stop hiding things from me.” Y/n laughed as she pulled away from the hug, wiping her face.

The girl agreed with a soft giggle before linking their arms and continuing their walk back to the castle, a comfortable silence falling over them.

Fred was pacing the main entrance of the castle, just in front of the Great Hall, no doubt leaving dirty footprints on the otherwise clean stone floor. He was still in his quidditch uniform, hair tousled from the wind, fists bloody, and dirt from rolling around on the ground was up to his mid thigh.

The echo of footsteps made his head snap up, his breath hitched as he saw Y/n and Lily walking back into the castle together. The dried tears and puffy eyes made his heart ache, regret and sadness flooding all of his senses.

It was knowing that he messed up.

He did this.

It was no one's fault but his, and the real kicker was that even if he apologized, got down on his knees pleading and crying, she had every right to walk away.

She didn’t have to forgive him, he didn’t deserve it and Fred knew that, and accepting that was what allowed him to finally push his pride aside.

“Why do you look like that?” Lily’s voice rang through the entrance, her face scrunched in disgust at Fred’s less then put together appearance.

He couldn’t care less about her question, his eyes were trained on the way Y/n’s breath skipped and she seemed nervous, almost… scared to be near him again.

“Y/n…”

Lily looked between the two, each holding a lovesick gaze polluted with sadness that made her, quite honestly, uncomfortable, but she was able to gage the situation and spoke up, “I’ll leave you to it, then. Need something, I’ll be in our common room.”

Y/n nodded, giving her friend a nervous smile as she left, then looking back at the roughed up ginger standing before her.

“Fred.”

Her tone was stoic and he hated it.

Fred didn’t know where to start.

“I-” The words got lost in his mouth as she looked at him expectantly.

Y/n shook her head, going to walk in the same direction Lily went, “Look, if you’re just going to continue calling me names I’m going to leave.”

“I’m sorry.” His words came out rushed and near a shout as he took a step forward trying to reach out to her, to stop her from leaving.

He watched as the girl seemed to mull things over before giving him a curt nod, “Yeah, it’s fine. What’s done is done.”

She ended the sentence with a new found attitude, he had chosen to act the way he did, now he had to deal with it.

With a sudden surge of passion Fred nearly growled out, “No.”

“No?”

“No. It’s not done. It’s not over. I was stupid and rude an-and a disrespectful git. I want to apologize for the nasty things I said, you didn’t deserve that, not at all.” Fred fought.

Y/n nodded, “You’re right. I didn’t, so why say it?”

Fred let out a breath as he stepped closer to her, eyes burning with an emotion Y/n had never seen before.

“Because I was jealous, insecure, and stupid. I thought you were going with him… and I knew I’d never be able to compete with that but I- Y/n, I-” He grew frustrated as he tried to find the right way to finally confess his feelings.

Y/n felt her tears build again as she frantically shook her head, taking backward steps away from the wired boy.

“Don’t. Don’t say-don’t do this Fred.”

“I’m- I love you. I’m in love with-”

“No. Don’t say that!” Heavy tears were now rolling down her face as she tried to shy away from Fred who was taking cautious steps toward her.

“Why not? Why can’t I tell you that I am in love with you, Y/n.”He questioned carefully.

She looked up at him with one of the saddest expressions he’d ever seen on a single person, “Because how am I ever meant to stop loving you when you’re saying things like this? How am I supposed to move on and get over you when you’re saying that you’re in love with me. You’re being mean Fred, just let me get over you.”

It was Fred’s turn to shake his head, “I’ll tell you every minute of every day if I had to, I love you Y/n. I love you, I love you, I love you.” The words fell so easily from his lips now, like a sacred mantra.

This only seemed to make her cry harder as she hugged herself with her arms, the sight made Fred want nothing more than to rush over to her, pull her into his embrace and wipe away each tear but he knew he had to tread lightly.

“Stop! Adrian, he’ll-”

Y/n watched Fred clench his fists, now noticing how swollen and wounded they looked.

“You don’t want to know what I overheard him saying, the things he wanted to do, the things he’s done!” Fred exclaimed, his temper making his voice rise.

At Fred’s words Y/n hung her head low, more silent tears falling down her nose. She didn’t know what to say.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice softened as he stepped closer to her, the closest he’s gotten so far.

The comment made a sudden rush of an emotion- one Y/n couldn’t name at the moment- rush through her. Her eyes snapped up to Fred’s soft ones, an index finger pointing at him weakly.

“You were supposed to know, just like you’re supposed to know that I’ve been in love with you. ” She cried, knowing her logic was flawed but making no effort to stop arguing.

“If you didn’t tell me, how…” His voice was soft, the same tone one would use talking to a wounded animal or crying child.

Fred reached a hand out toward her, letting her make the decision of whether or not he could touch her just yet. The act made her let out a humorless chuckle.

“The same way you know everything!” She shouted. “The same way you know that I get uncomfortable when people touch me, the same way you know my favorite color, or how you knew that no matter how annoying you were I’d still wait for you in the mornings before breakfast so we could walk together. You were just supposed to know.” Her voice faded into a sad whimper as she looked at him.

Streaks of freshly fallen tears now lined Fred’s face as he listened to the girl, his girl. With a featherlight touch he placed his hand on her cheek, holding her face and gently coaxing it to angle up so she’d look at him.

“You’re right, I should’ve known.” Y/n nodded at his words before crashing into his chest, holding onto his jersey as she wept into his chest.

Fred held her body to his, using his right hand to caress the back of her head in an effort to calm her before going to hold her face just under the junction of her neck and jaw, his left hand wrapped around her waist holding her flush against himself.

“I should’ve known.” He muttered again, leaning down to place a loving kiss on the crown of her head.

They stood like that for who-knows how long, only the sound of Y/n’s soft sniffles being heard. It was lucky that dinner was still two or three hours away and most students didn’t come back from the Hogsmeade trip until they absolutely had to- which was twenty minutes before dinner.

Still, Fred knew they were lucky to not have any first years walking in on the emotional scene but he didn’t want to push that luck... he also didn’t want to move just yet.

“Freddie…” The soft tone made him absentmindedly run his thumb across her jaw.

“Yeah, Poppet?” His voice was hoarse, quiet and had a touch of sensitivity that made Y/n want to nuzzle into his chest but she stopped herself.

She swallowed before asking, “Did you mean it?”

Fred furrowed his brow, “What, love?”

“When you said you loved me.”

He let out a chuckle as he leaned back to look into her eyes, both of his hands going to cup her face as he spoke to her with a loving smile.

“I said it about seven times and you’re asking if I meant it? Unbelievable woman you are.”

Y/n laughed at his response, averting her eyes suddenly bashful under the intense emotion seemingly flowing through his eyes. Fred put a finger under her chin to tilt her head back up so he could look at her again, this time more serious.

“I am really sorry, Y/n. I shouldn’t have said those things, I hate myself for-”

He was cut off by the inexplicable feeling of having her be the one to now hold his face gently in her hands, as if he was delicate, important, she held him in a way he didn’t think he deserved to be held, not after all the things he’s said to her.

She searched his eyes for a deceitful haze, or glimmer of dishonesty and found nothing. Nothing except for worry, regret, and intoxicating love.

“It’s done, Freddie. It’s over. No use in worrying over it now that we can't change it.”

He gave a look of concern, “But-”

“I forgive you. I said some pretty nasty things too, let’s learn from it and move on.”

Fred’s eyes saddened and she felt herself involuntarily pout at his doe eyes.

“Move on, meaning…”

“I want you to kiss me, Fred.” She stated strongly with unwavering eye contact.

He leaned in slowly, on hand slipping to the back of her head as his fingers combed through her hair. Just before fully placing his lips onto hers, he angled his head up and placed a soft kiss onto the tip of her nose, he moved to the right corner of her mouth then the left placing sweet kisses. Fred looked into her eyes, silently asking if this was what she wanted. When she gave no sign of discomfort or hesitation he closed the gap between them. His kiss was passionate and slow, he wanted to feel her lips, the soft skin, every ridge he committed to memory.

Y/n felt herself get lost in the kiss, her eyelids had fluttered shut and hands coming up to hold both sides of his neck. She let out a whimper as Fred’s tongue found its way into her mouth, there was no fighting for dominance- Fred just wanted to feel her. Y/n found her way to the roots of his hair, giving them a tug making him groan into the kiss. He went to pull away, but she bit his lip carefully before letting it go watching as it jutted back to place.

She rested her forehead against his- given he was bent over significantly to reach her- and Fred could’ve sworn he’d never seen anything, or anyone, so beautiful. With swollen lips, flushed skin, a heaving chest, and eyes looking up at him through a thick set of lashes with a facade of innocence that made his knees weak.

Both of them grinned at each other, Y/n’s thumbs running back and forth over the soft skin of Fred’s long neck whilst he traced the outline of her cheekbones with his.

“I-I, uh…” Fred shut his eyes momentarily as he laughed at his attempts to find the right words.

Y/n smirked up at him before teasing.

“Are you always this articulate?”

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[missdawnandherdusk]

Ten Things I Hate About You

Muggle!Born!Reader X Draco

Summary: Request: @thelostandweeping If it is possible may I request a Draco x Muggle reader. Reader is really bad at potions so Snape has Draco tutor the reader. The reader doesn't like Draco but he finds her bluntness and her ability to be aloof interesting and tries to win her over. She later shows she's actually very kind and sweet. They become best friends and later together.

A/n: Okay this... but add a bit of Shakespeare and ABBA and you’ve got yourself a deal. This is super cute and a bit angsty and 100% pining. Let me know what you think! It’s currently 2am and I’m crying over these dorks. Love you guys so much 

“Not Malfoy!” I distressed, standing. “Professor, please. I need to pass this class,”

“And you will do so, if Mr. Malfoy tutors you,” Snape hissed. “I don’t have to do this Miss Y/l/n, I could watch you fail and be quite fine with it.”

Clenching my fists, I took a deep breath and sat back down. Snape’s eyes narrowed at me.

“You and Mr. Malfoy will meet here every Friday afternoon.”

“Yes, Professor,” I sulked. “Thank you, Professor,”

“Now get out of my sight,” He snapped, and I stood, huffing out of his office and into the hall, nearly running over Malfoy.

“Watch it, mudblood,” He snapped, shoving me aside.

“Watch yourself,” I snarled, shoving him back.

He looked surprised at me, as if no one had dared to ever retaliate against him. Stupid self- righteous prat. That I needed. I made me loathe him more. I growled and stormed away, throwing my stuff onto the table in the Great Hall, sitting beside my friends.

“Well, that’s not a pretty face,” Ernie gave me a teasing look. “Snape that bad, huh?”

“He’s making Malfoy tutor me!” I lamented. “I think I’d rather fail,”

Shocked gasps rose around my small group of friends.

“Look here he comes,” Susan nodded to the door and sure enough, the blond prick was storming his way over here with murder in his eyes.

“You!” He sneered, stalking up to my table.

“What about me?” I gave him a cold look.

“You’re a filthy little mudblood who just ruined my Friday afternoons!” He shouted.

“And you’re a heinous misogynistic asshole who I have to deal with every Friday afternoon instead of going to Quidditch practice so forgive me if I’m not weeping at your feet begging for forgiveness,” I snapped, standing, my arms folded.

Onlookers of our conversation let out a low gasp of surprise as Malfoy stammered for the next thing to say. I raised an eyebrow at him, waiting.

“Cat got your tongue?” A smirk spread across my face. He drew his wand, pointing it at me. I didn’t flinch.

“Mr. Malfoy!” I heard the familiar voice of McGonagall. “Wand away! Unless you wish to serve detention,”

My smirk grew to a grin as I watched Malfoy stomp his foot and storm out of the room, shoving a few first years out of the way. A few clapped and cheered at the encounter before getting scolded by McGonagall.

I dreaded Friday. More than I dreaded anything. I’d rather never listen to music again if it meant I didn’t have to listen to Malfoy teach me about Potions. Okay, well, maybe the situation wasn’t that dire... but I was considering it.

“You’re early,”

I hadn’t even closed the door and he was already snapping at me.

“Hello Malfoy,” I gritted, turning to see him already standing over a cauldron, ingredients laid out around the table.

“Let’s just get this over with?” He nodded me over, his eyes still trained on the knife and leathery skin in his hands.

I shed my robe and rolled up my sleeves, going to hover beside him.

“Can you tell me what this is?” His voice lost some of the snap to it as he slid the crushed hide into the bubbling brew.

“If I could do you think I’d be here?” I huffed, grabbing my textbook and notes, flipping through the pages.

“Oh, for the love of Merlin,” Draco snatched the book from my hands.

“Give it back!” I shouted, reaching for the textbook.

“You won’t get better if you’re cheating,” He disappeared the book with a wave of his hand.

“That was my book! Malfoy, I swear to god!”

We were toe to toe, inches from each other. There was a calm, careful, infuriating smile on his face and anger on mine.

“Now, tell me, little mudblood,” He took a careful step back. “What potion is this?”

I narrowed my eyes at him and with a deep breath I looked over at the grey sludge that boiled in the pot. My eyes took inventory of the ingredients that were laid around the desk.

“Knotgrass?” I guessed, picking up a jar inspecting it.

Draco gave a seldom nod. We went on like that, until I had named all of the ingredients that were before us.

“I know this!” I groaned, rubbing my face. “I should know this!” 

“Well, why don’t you?” Malfoy smirked. “It’s quite simple,”

“If it was simple,” I gritted out. “I wouldn’t be here,”

My book was suddenly back in his hands.

“It’s easier to find a potion by looking at the index. You know the ingredients, find them and cross reference,” He handed it back to me.

“That’s... actually really smart,”

I took the book and flipped to the back. It took some time, but I eventually flipped to the page I felt was right: Polyjuice Potion.

“Well done,” He didn’t smile, but he wasn’t quite scowling. “Perhaps there is hope for you yet, little mudblood.”

“Watch it,” I growled. “I’m still not above punching you,”

“What would you like me to call you then? Little shrew? Spitfire? Gorgon?” His smirk was back.

“Oh, kiss a dementor, Malfoy,” Grabbing my things, I ditched him and the Polyjuice Potion, heading outside into the setting sun to clear my head with some fresh air.

______________________________

Draco sat back, leaning against the table, watching you storm out. Your adamant hatred for him was quite amusing. The fact that you needed him to pass Potions and your loathing of him, made him laugh to himself as he began to clean up with a quick flick of his wand.

“I am to glad to see that my office is still intact,” Snape mused, flowing into the room. “I can’t say I had high hopes for you two,”

“It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” Draco admitted. “She’s... bearable.”

“Is that sentiment I hear Mr. Malfoy?” Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Not at all,” Draco scoffed. “A challenge.”

“You’re absolutely daft!” Pansy dismayed later that night in the common room. “You really think you can tame that shrew?”

“Do you doubt me?” Draco raised an eyebrow. “Besides, I wrangled you in, and I put up with Crabbe and Goyle, and you have not been to a family dinner of mine. Y/n? She’s a piece of cake.”

“Ten galleons says you’re wrong,” Pansy held out her hand.

“You’re on,” Draco grinned as he shook it.

The next Friday, you just as riled and furious as you had been last Friday, and it was almost enough to make Draco laugh. Every other girl seem to... how did you put it? Weep at his feet begging for forgiveness? That seemed about right. But you? Oh, he was right, you were a little spitfire. Especially when you were frustrated because you couldn’t figure out how to brew Sleeping Draught. He left that tutoring session smiling to himself, watching your livid form head down the hall.

The next day Draco wandered down to the Quidditch Pitch, surprised to see you out there alone, running drills. You had mentioned giving up practice to let him tutor you. Thinking back to his bet with Pansy, he shed his robe and grabbed his broom from the closet, changing quickly, and headed out into the air after you.

“Bloody hell!” You screamed, nearly falling off your broom. “What the fuck is wrong with you Malfoy!?” You hovered feet from him, covered in sweat and dirt.

“Well, at the moment, the chance of losing a bet,” He grinned.

“Shouldn’t have taken it then, asshole,” You rolled your eyes, balancing on your broom as you stretched out your arms. “But I meant why are you here? Are you following me now?”

“Not particularly, I leave my stalking abilities for Potter. Nothing to waste on a mudblood.” Oh, he loved watching the fire grow in your eyes as he called you that.

“Piss off, Malfoy.” You snapped, flying away from him, taking a lap around the pitch.

He followed. You sped up. So did he. When you pulled straight up, it was all too easy to follow. He could hear your aggravated growl as he chased you around the pitch. You stopped short and he nearly ran into you, having to swerve out of the way. Your face was a mask of calm and disgust as you shook your head and landed, heading for the locker rooms.

“How’s the shrew?” Pansy asked later that week. “Still think you can tame her?” 

“Patience Pans,” Draco chuckled. “These things take time,”

It wasn’t hard to figure out your schedule that week. It was even easier to make sure that he was there just long enough for you to notice him and then watch your mood sour as you stalked out of whatever room the two of you shared.

“Hey there, Spitfire,” Draco grinned leaning against your table at the library.

“What?” You snapped, not looking up at him. “Oh, I’m sorry I forgot, in this society, being male and an asshole makes you worthy of my time.” You shot him a deathly glare. “Bugger off, Malfoy,”

“You hate me, don’t you?” He smirked. “I get under that muggle skin of yours,”

“I really don’t think you warrant that strong an emotion,” I leaned back in my chair.

“Maybe another strong emotion then? Because they say if a girl constantly rips of a guy it means she likes him.”

“Am I that transparent?” Your face fell flat with you tone. “I want you. I need you. Oh baby, oh baby.” Rolling your eyes, you went back to your book. “Go find some other girl to fuck, Malfoy,”

“Ooh, see but that, there. Who needs affection when I have blind hatred?” He grinned and sat beside you, taking your book.

“Malfoy!” You hollered, only to be scolded by Pince. “Give me my book.”

“Now where have I heard that before.” Draco flipped through the pages of your book. “Ugh, a muggle book, I should have known,”

You snatched it from his hands and cradled it to your chest.

“You wouldn’t know a good book if I hit you in the face with it,” You snarled, grabbing your bag and storming off.

The few students who were watching the encounter quickly turned back to their work as Draco glanced around the shelves of books, noticing the missing space your book left in the shelf and the plethora of similar books.

“Shakespeare?” Draco mused, drawing a book into his hands. 

________________________________

“He’s obsessed! He won’t leave me alone!” I cried in frustration. “I wish he’d go back to stalking Potter because I’m sick of it!”

“Have you ever considered that maybe he likes you?” Hannah asked.

“Likes me?” I snorted. “Ah, yes. Because calling me a mudblood, or a shrew is just a tell of flirting,”

“He called you a mudblood?” Ernie demanded.

“Calm down, I can handle myself.” Rolling my eyes, I sulked, standing. “I’m going to the pitch, anyone wanna join?”

There was a resounding chorus of ‘no’s. Which was probably a good thing. I needed some time alone to think and blow off steam. After a few hours of running drills I headed back to the locker rooms. Wiping my face with a towel, I jumped nearly a foot when I saw that I wasn’t alone.

“For the love of god, Draco!” I shouted. “What are you doing?”

“Well, hello to you too,” He smirked. “And I do believe I have quidditch practice,”

I pursed my lips and slammed my locker shut. His irritating casual conversation still had the ability to make my blood boil.

“I hope you fall to your death,” I snapped, heading towards the girl’s showers.

“Well, there’s a way to get a bloke’s attention,” He smirked, leaning effortlessly against his locker.

“My mission in life,” I smiled cheerfully. “And I’ve obviously struck your fancy, so the world makes sense again,” I sighed wistfully and deadpanned.

“See you Friday,” He smiled politely.

I let out a sound of disgust and shoved down the urge to go back in there and punch him in his perfect face. The days until Friday seemed to fly by, mocking me with their abruptness.

Taking a deep breath, I walked into Snape’s office, where Draco was waiting for me, the same lazy smile on his face. I didn’t say a word as I shed my coat and rolled up my sleeves, taking out my book and notes.

“What in the bloody hell is that?” Draco stammered, almost knocking over a vial of Wormwood—I think.

“What?” I looked around then behind me. “What are you playing at?” 

“Around your neck!” He gestured, annoyed.

“Headphones?” I chuckled, easily sliding them off. “You know... music? Your lot do have that sort of thing, don’t they?”

“I don’t see what... headphones—” As if the word was foreign to his tongue, “—have to do with music,” Draco scoffed.

“You can listen to music anywhere?” I slid them off from around my neck and pulled up my portable CD player from my bag. “Have you really never seen a CD player or headphones?” I was baffled. “I don’t know what I’d do without music,”

“CD?” Draco frowned at the player in my hands.

“Yeah, Mom just send me ABBA’s Gold album and I’m a bit obsessed,” A slight pink touched my cheeks. “I’ve been wanting it so long,”

“ABBA?”

I laughed and shook my head, shoving both my headphones and CD player into my bag. “Maybe I’ll show you one day,”

It took less time than expected for me to figure out that he had a cauldron of Veritaserum in front of me. And maybe I genuinely smiled at Draco and fought the urge to hug him because, Potions really was making sense to me now. I would never understand how he managed it, but he could teach it in a way that I understood.

“Hey Draco?” I paused at the door on my way out. He looked up from cleaning, his careful blue eyes meeting mine. “Thanks,”

I hated that I wasn’t annoyed at him when he found me in the library again.

“So, is this for Muggle Studies then?” Draco nodded to my book, sitting the incorrect way in the chair next to mine, resting his arms against the back, almost nonchalant.

“No,” I rolled my eyes, slipping off my headphones, pausing the CD. “On contrary to popular belief, we muggles aren’t uncivilized. I do enjoy things like reading and art and music,” The annoyance in my voice was false.

“I’m aware,” Draco grinned that lazy smile again.

“Oh, so you think you know me then? Have enough from stalking me these past weeks?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Not like we’ve spent the last few Fridays together...” He drawled. “And I think I’m getting there.”

“The only thing you know about me is that I’m muggle and suck at potions,” I muttered, turning back to my book.

“You’re interesting,” Draco shrugged, causing me to backtrack and frown.

“Is that all I am to you? Something to ogle at? Maybe get a laugh in here and there with your pureblood buddies?” My voice went back to being venomous. “Just because you're pureblood, doesn't mean you can treat people like they don't matter!” I grabbed my belongings and stormed out of the library, fighting tears.

________________________________

Draco hated that you were right. And he hated that he almost made you cry as well. He hated that you could see right through him. And he hated that he felt any of this at all.

“The bet’s off,” Draco hissed to Pansy.

“You know what that means...” She grinned mischievously. “That means you have to do my homework for a week, and you pay up.”

Draco forked over the coins, not missing them in the slightest.

“She too much for you then? Not able to tame our little mudblood shrew?” A wicked grin curled on her face.

“Don’t call her that,” Draco snapped. “You don’t know a thing about her,”

“She’s a mudblood, Draco,” Pansy sat up, looking concerned. “Don’t tell me you actually have feelings for her?”

Draco didn’t have an answer for that.

He didn’t have an answer for any of this. As he laid in bed that night, staring up at the satin green that draped over his bed, all he could think about was the hurt on your face and in your words. It was different from your remarks before, those he could brush off easily. But not the tears in your eyes or the betrayal in your voice. Pansy was right, he shouldn’t care at all. You were beneath him. A mudblood, muggle born, shrew.

But he fucked up.

Because now you were so much more precious than that and he let you do it to him. He gave you the place in his heart where you resided.

That Friday he almost didn’t expect you to show. When you did, after the initial shock, there was an apology rushing to his lips, but held back by his pride. You barely looked at him that day. Your movements were muted, gentle. You murmured soft answers.

“Why are you doing this?” It was the first thing you said to him that wasn’t some ingredient. 

“Tutoring you?” He raised an eyebrow.

You shook your head and took a deep breath. “All of it—what's in it for you?” Your eyes met his and he felt like you were reading him like one of your books. “What’s your game, Malfoy?” It hurt more than he thought as you switched back to the use of his surname.

“So, I have to have a motive to be with you?” He snapped back defensive.

“You tell me.” The tone of your words had him weak at the knees, gripping at the table for support.

“Can’t I just enjoy your company?” Draco snapped, slamming the book closed. “We’re done for the day,” He shook his head, looking down at the table beneath his hands.

You left without another word, but a glance back to him that had him reeling. He wanted to call out after you, but the words were trapped by fear and uncertainty.

Draco still watched you in the halls and in class whenever he could steal a glance. You seemed to always have your headphones in and your head down, nose in a book. Snape informed him about mid-week that your grades were adequate and that the tutoring would end promptly. He should have been happy about that. And a month ago he would have been more than glad to be rid of you... but he made a huge mistake.

He fell for you instead.

And you hated him. For everything he was and is. He couldn’t find it in himself to be angry that you closed yourself off from him. He didn’t blame you. Things were as it should be, and the world could spin around and not threaten to implode.

It was absolutely ludicrous. He shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t be doing this.

Every night, he slipped on headphones, and fell asleep to ABBA singing about love and loss behind the safety of his closed bed curtains. Sometimes he could almost hear your gentle voice whisper the lyrics, broken and defeated. Maybe he whispered a few back to the memory of you. Maybe a tear or two slipped out.

Maybe he sent you a note in class. Maybe it said that he was sorry and understood why you hated him. Maybe he deserved to watch you crumple it up and shove it into your bag and not give him a second glance.

Maybe enough was enough.

Determined, one crisp spring morning, Draco rose. After tucking away his guilty pleasure, he didn’t bother with house colors as he pulled a jumper over his dark wash jeans, scouring the castle grounds for you. It shouldn’t have been that hard, he had your scheduled memorized for Merlin’s sake, but still you evaded him.

To be fair, you didn’t evade him at all, he just wasn’t paying attention to your curled-up form in the Quidditch stands.

He called your name and gritted his teeth when you didn’t look up. He tried again. 

“Go away,” You pulled your arms tighter around yourself.

He didn’t. Instead he sat down beside you, not saying a word. You two sat in silence that about killed him when you spoke up again.

“Did you win... your little bet?” Your voice was broken. “Did you tame the shrew?” 

“You knew?” Draco gaped.

A soft shrug fell from your shoulder. “I know what people say about me...” A sigh escaped your lips. “And Pansy’s always one to hold anything she can over me. She’s my cousin, you know... my mom was a squib...”

A frown fell on Draco’s face at the new information. How had he not known that? Pansy was always near him and well, he did stalk you for about a month. Maybe you had been right, and you were nothing more than a spectacle to him until that last week...

Your careful eyes were trained on the empty pitch before him. No emotion was evident on your face... maybe an air of melancholy.

“I... I’m sorry,” Draco glanced down. “You were right about me... about everything.” 

“I really don’t want to talk about...” You sighed. “Things we’ve gone through...”

A smile tugged at Draco’s lips. He knew those words. And it was so like you to quote them at him. He wondered how many other times you had gotten away with quoting song lyrics at him.

______________________________

I could feel Draco’s eyes study my face and the small smile that rested on his. I glanced over at him an eyebrow raised in question.

“You can’t just quote song lyrics at me,” He toyed, the familiar irritating smirk on his lips.

“I can do whatever I please,” I snapped, my cheeks flushing that I had been caught. Then it dawned on me. “Wait—”

A laugh escaped his lips. A wonderful sound that I had never heard before. One that I wanted to hear again.

“I was curious...” He shrugged, nonchalant seeming.

“You... listened to ABBA? A muggle CD? And you... know the words?” I gawked at him. “Who the hell are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?” I couldn’t help the smile on my lips.

“I’ve been asking myself that for about a week now,” He grinned, then looked down, his smile dropping.

“Draco?” I asked softly, reaching out for his hand. His blue eyes met mine, hesitant. “It’s... you don’t have to... I know you can’t...” Fumbling over my words, I couldn’t find the ones that seemed to fit right.

He reached out, the hand I had seen for weeks on end delicately handle ingredients and potions, just as precisely reached out and tilted my chin up.

“Tell me,” He whispered. “Have I messed up so badly that you can’t forgive me? That you won’t take a chance on a... how did you put it? Heinous misogynistic asshole?” There was a teasing smile on his lips that somehow moved to be inches from mine.

“Who’s quoting song lyrics now?” I mused softly, “And what kind of idiotic question is that?” 

“That’s all I needed to hear,”

His mouth was on mine then, and I couldn't fight him. Not because he was possibly stronger than me—but not by much—but because my will crumbled into dust the second our lips met. So, I kissed him back. His hands memorized my face, the same way mine were tracing his, and, in the brief seconds when his lips were free, he whispered my name.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you,” He breathed out. “I’ll do better,”

"Don't promise me anything," I whispered softly, my hands falling to his shoulders. “Next week you might change your mind... or Pansy might—”

His lips were on mine again, silencing my words and doubts.

“Will you please try to hear what I'm telling you? Will you let me attempt to explain what you mean to me?” His stark eyes pierced mine as he cradled my face. “I am so sorry. I know I’m an asshole, and I know I’ve fucked up—” I started to protest but his thumb brushed over my lips, keeping them closed “—I have. And for a while I thought it was because I fell for you, but I see now is that it was because I didn’t fall for you sooner,”

“Sap,” I mumbled against his thumb, fighting the urge to roll my eyes.

His hands fell and I drew him into a hug. He held me close and for a moment, I just let him hold me. No fears, no doubts, no malicious thoughts, no blood status, no magic. Just two teens and something that might be love.

.................................

“Pansy is actually going to kill me,” I whispered, hesitating outside the Great Hall doors.

“Not while I have a say in the matter,” Draco pressed a soft kiss to the top of my head. “And besides... what’s the worst thing that could happen?”

I walked into the Great Hall, hand in hand with Draco. There was the clatter of dropped dishes and silverware and a collective gasp that fell into a hushed silence. Hundreds of eyes were on us.

“Well, that could have gone worse...” Draco muttered under his breath and I snorted a laugh, shaking my head, letting him pull me to a nearby table.

Nervous chattered and hushed whispers filled the hall. I guess they had good reason though. Draco and I had both tamed the other shrew.

.

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[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Hey! I just read the last part of the BTHB and I can't get enough of it!! So, if you'd like, for BTHB, is it okay that after supervillain gets all healed up, he leaves. Then when the hero agency gets to know that hero saved him, they want to punish her/execute her by death? And supervillain saves her? But she's still too injured to do just anything

And, if you're not comfortable with this, feel free to ignore!

Thank you for the ask! I changed it up a bit, just a smidge, like a little bit because I think it would make it more dramatic, but not too much. Hope you enjoy!

And this got long... so I apologize. I still don't have the ability to put a readmore.

Muddy Rain Part 4

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 ... if you guys like this series, I will have to make a masterlist for it soon!

@shydragonrider

Warnings: (i made two lists, one for Hero and one for Supervillain for those who aren't comfortable with lady whumpees) alcohol mention, broken bones mention, attempted murder,

Supervillain: chloroformed, drugged state of mind, limping, not healing, past trauma, memories of torture, low self-esteem, shocked by stun gun, tranquilized

Hero: restrained, kidnapped, shocked by stun gun, bleeding, knife wounds, unconsciousness, manhandled

~

Hero awoke slowly, finding her arms wrapped protectively around her ward. She sighed, looking down at his slowly breathing figure in the darkness. She didn't know if he would ever get better.

Six months later...

"Hero?!" Supervillain called from the other room. "Breakfast is ready!"

Hero smiled, biting her lip as she set down her book, and walked into the horrible smelling kitchen. She wrinkled her noise, taking in the state of her kitchen. The windows were opened with tiny fans blowing the thick, smokey air out of the hot room. Egg yolks and melted butter practically painted the counters with their yellowness. Strawberry juice was splattered across the white sink with at least ten kitchen knives tossed carelessly into a pile, waiting to be washed.

The waffle iron, coated in batter, was steaming hot and did not look like it was properly doused in canola oil.

But, amongst the mess, Supervillain beamed over two plates of charcoal colored waffles and cut up strawberries.

"Why thank you," Hero said and tried to grab her own plate, but Supervillain ripped it out of her reach.

"I got it," he said, smiling a wavering smile. Almost instinctively, Hero looked away, but knowing curiosity got the better of her.

She glanced back at Supervillain, trying to avoid looking at his shaking arm- the bad one, the one with the broken clavicle- as he carried both plates to the coffee table in the livingroom. She tried not to take much note of his funny gait either- the way his knees seemed to buckle as he walked, completely devoid of strength.

She tried not to look because of how hard Supervillain tried. How he tried to cook meals for Hero and how he dealt with jobs that he didn't necessarily enjoy- all to support Hero for all she did. He worked as a graphic designer, playing around with computers, when he would've rather been a baseball coach or an engineer.

"Thank you for breakfast," Hero said, sticking her fork in the waffle and eating it like a popsicle, trying her hardest not to grimace as her tongue was temporarily numbed by a clump of baking powder.

Supervillain blushed, his still pale cheeks turning rosy in color, as he winced at the state of his own plate.

"I could be better," he whispered, more to himself than anyone, so Hero ignored his obvious show of self negativity.

They remained in silence until a loud knocking interrupted them. Hero looked up, heart pounding, as a foreboding feeling rose in her gut. Supervillain half stood up, using his hand to balance his shaking body, but Hero gently pushed him back down.

"I got it," she told him softly and walked over to the door. Her hand hovered over the knob for a moment before she turned it and-

She was thrown backwards onto the ground and before she knew it, she was pressed against someone's stomach, arms pinned.

"Let me go!" She growled, kicking and stepping at her attacker's feet, but someone else came and quickly zipped her ankles up with cable ties.

"Hey!" She cried, using momentum to thrust herself forward. Only, she had no balance with her newly tied ankles and fell to the ground.

Her wrists were tied next and she was lifted to her feet, but suddenly, her attacker froze, giving her time to assess the situation.

There were five of them, masked. One held a bag a cable ties, the others were completely empty-handed, and one was manhandling Hero.

"Let her go, now!" Came Supervillain's familiar voice, though this time taut with rage and fury, but also a hint of fear.

She didn't see it, but felt it. The one holding her nodded and the other four rushed towards Supervillain. One grabbed a bottle of something most likely nasty and dumped it over a rag. Hero's heart jumped. No, no, no, no, no...

Her attacker spun her around, kicking in her knees to make her sit on the floor. She looked up and saw Supervillain with a gun in his hand.

"Knock him out," her attacker ordered. His voice, frighteningly familiar.

"No!" Hero screeched. "Stop! I will do what you want, just don't touch him, please."

Her hair was grabbed, head yanked back.

"I know you will, because if you don't, he will die and you know it," the man snarled. "But he will still fight for you, no matter our terms of agreement."

The four masked strangers attacked Supervillain, pushing him to a sitting position on the floor. He struggled, but only for a moment before a drenched rag was stuffed into his face.

"No," Hero whimpered, hardly able to watch, but her attacker held her head up to watch the whole event.

After a few minutes, Supervillain's frantic struggles turned into sporadic twitches as his body screamed for air.

"Stop," Hero said, voice thick with tears and face wet with them. "You'll kill him." She said the last bit in a whimpering tone.

"Who cares, he'll be out of the way."

Supervillain sunk into the stranger's arm, not yet unconscious. For a moment he hung there, head lolling in the rag and the hand holding it. Then, he looked up at Hero, his gaze faraway and glassy, before his eyes rolled into his head and he collapsed to the ground.

"Please," Hero begged. "At least bring him to the couch, please. He-" She stopped, not wanting to spill Supervillain's weaknesses, but it already seemed that all was lost. "He has a hard time standing up when he wakes and the drugs won't make it easy. Just, please." She melted into her attacker's arms, crying.

"Bring him to the couch," her attacker conceded after a moment’s hesitation. Two men each grabbed an arm. Hero stiffened when one cruelly pulled on his bad one. They dragged him to the couch, his head rolling uselessly on his chest.

"As for you," her attacker spoke. He stood up, walked in front of Hero, and ripped off his mask. Hero's body gave a nervous twitch when she recognized her colleague, Superhero.

"You are going to come with us," he finished, grabbed Hero and dragged her out of the house.

《~~》

Supervillain came to rather slowly, whimpering and crying out in pain as his head banged ruthlessly around. A dense feeling of nausea rose in his throat as the room, when he managed to open his eyes, spun.

For a moment of incoherence, he believed that he was hurt again, laying half-consious on Hero's bed as she gingerly cared for him.

But, as his senses returned, he realized that her touches were vacant and his legs weren't wrapped in the immobilizing padding.

Only then did he muster the willpower to completely open his eyes and draw his memories towards any prior events. Though, he found that if there were any, they were distant and vague- much like his memories of the month in which he hardly woke up, unless for necessities like medicine or food.

He became aware of his breathing, and then the placement of his body. Arms were strewn all over the place as if he had no control where they ended up. He flinched as a few moments of recollection came over him. Panic, rush, and the feeling of many hands on him.

His nose and mouth stung painfully, though he knew he didn't have a cold or a sniffle or anything. Not even allergies.

Then it hit him. His memories. Hero being restrained with cable ties, grabbing the gun, the rag over his mouth, lungs burning, Hero's screams, then nothing. Nothing at all.

He was drugged.

He suddenly pushed himself to his hands, only for them to crumble under his weight as an intense feeling of lightheadedness overwhelmed him. He groaned, hands flailing as they tried to clutch at his rollercoaster for a head.

He had to get up. Hero was in danger.

He swung his legs over the side of the choice, only for them to go extremely weak and splay out from underneath him. He let out a sob, head pounding painfully.

Get up.

He used his arms as leverage to shove himself up, then stumbled towards the wall, leaning against it heavily. He took in a shuddering, deep breath, lips pressed into the cold material.

He didn't know how long it took, or exactly remembered it either, but eventually he found himself slumped over Hero's motorcycle. He felt like he was going to throw up and then collapse.

But he couldn't, had to save Hero.

He swung his leg over the seat, ignoring the agonizing grinding of his still-healing bones, and sat there, waiting for the dizziness to fade.

His vision cleared and he turned the vehicle on. Revving it up, he drove sloppily out of the driveway.

He recognized the voices of the men who came. Heroes, particularly the gang that tortured him all those months ago. Supervillain's thoughts drifted for a moment, but then he found himself veering off the road.

"Snap back into it," he whispered to himself, voice hoarse. He concentrated on the road the best he could, but the way the yellow lines melted into each other was very confusing.

Okay, think, think, think, he willed himself, gripping the handles until his knuckles went white. The garage, a mechanic's garage, where he was kept at was on the far side of town. He knew it because that was where Villain worked, and Villain...

No, stop. He couldn't go that route, but his drugged mind was still traveling down that path. The sledgehammer, food just inches from his reach, the utter helplessness...

A car honked, loud and earsplitting. Supervillain sighed, he had to keep his thoughts under control. So he blocked all thinking and paid attention to the way the road melted under the motorcycle's tires.

Before he knew it, he was pulling up to the familiar building. Old, broken cars guarded the entrance to where his torture took place and with that knowledge, he went there, knowing that was where Hero was.

He crept through the cars, legs throbbing and moving stiffly. Every so often he would stop, grab at a car, and catch his breath. He was so useless, so, so useless.

Don't think that way, you have a job, you make money, you support Hero...

He stood up straighter and walked into the garage, fear clutching his chest. In there was a world of pain- something Supervillain wanted to forget.

For Hero, he would do anything. She saved his life.

Supervillain slid his hand over the doorknob, freezing as he heard the ringing of the bells- a sound that used to bring him such hope. A hope that someone would see him, or care enough about him to save him.

"Be there in a minute!" Came a familiar yowl. Supervillain started backwards, panic rising in his throat as anticipation clawed at his chest. The woman that spoke was not one of the people who broke in. No, she was more sophisticated than that. She was...

Villain.

Supervillain looked at the tall lady in front of him, trying not to glance at her heels- oh the memories of those steel prods digging into his already gnarled flesh.

"Hey honey," Villain spoke sauntering over. Supervillain slid down onto the floor, overwhelmed with anxiety and fear, just as Villain's cold hand ran through his hair. He stiffened, muscles tensing.

"It has been a while. Want some tea to drink as we catch up?" Her petting increased, her fingers pulling at the strands.

Supervillain risked it and shook his head. "I-uh," he stammered. Gosh, he was scared. So scared. Him, the greatest supervillain in the city, was scared to the point of trembling. Maybe he would blame it on the chloroform, but deep down he knew that was a lie.

Oh how he wished he was home, trying and failing to make a batch of muffins.

"What was that, dear?" Villain murmured.

"Where's Hero?" He rasped, instantly cowering in fear.

"Oh Hero? That little bastard? Oh yeah, she's currently bleeding out at an alarming rate," Villain purred and stopped rubbing Supervillain's head- much to his relief.

Supervillain whimpered, his body screaming at him to find her, but primitive instinct kept him rooted to the ground.

But, after a few moments of fighting himself, Supervillain stood up. Villain backed away, face taut with amusement.

"What are you going to do?" Villain taunted. "Hmm? You couldn't even save Hero from five men and now there are ten out there, armed with deadlier things than chloroform."

Supervillain squeezed his eyes shut. Don't listen to her, don't listen to her...

"Her life is worth more than mine," Supervillain growled, as he pushed past his former captor. He could see a smirk rise on Villain's lips.

"Yeah... it really is, isn't it," Villain chuckled. "You worthless scum." She spun around and kicked Supervillain's knees. He tripped, blood rushing through his ears, but stayed upright as he gallantly walked into his old home.

The smell of countless oils and grease hit his nose, and following that, the familiar scent of exhaust. He grimaced, remembering his utter inability to breathe on busy days.

But even those memories washed away at the sight of Hero, bloodied and unmoving, with people shocking her endlessly with stun guns.

"Hey!" Supervillain yelled, grabbing a pipe wrench in one hand. The people torturing Hero, stopped and turned around to face Supervillain who was swaying on his feet- from the lingering fatigue and fear.

"Leave her be," he growled and stalked up to them. One shrugged and zapped Supervillain in the side. His body seized as white flashes illuminated his vision. Gasping, he fell to the ground, right next to Hero's body.

"Well now we have two to have fun with boys! But, let's head in and grab us some whiskey first!" A chorus of cheers followed that.

Supervillain was still out of breath by the time the men left to go get their alcoholic beverages.

"H-hey," he rasped, slowly bringing his hand to caress Hero's face. She was unconscious, but at his touch, her eyes blinked open.

"Hero?" Supervillain croaked, relief flooding his veins. He slowly sat up and dragged her limp body onto his lap. She groaned, and that was when he realized that he jostled a whole array of injuries.

They were tiny, nothing that a strong and healthy person like Hero wouldn't be able to recover from, but they were aimed to kill.

Unlike Supervillain's torture that aimed to cripple and harm him mentally and physically.

Those lethal injuries were knife wounds, some small, others large. They spanned from her chest, all the way through her torso and down her arms and legs. It was to be a slow, and painful death, Supervillain noted. None of the wounds touched a major artery.

"I'm gonna help you," Supervillain whispered, tucking a long, wavy piece of her hair behind her ear. "Like you did for me." When did he get so cheesy? Hero did this so much better.

"Y-you don't need to pay me for what I did," Hero murmured in reply, unfocused eyes focusing for just a moment. "I-i," she winced, groaning loudly, as her bloodstained hands gently brushed a particularly nasty gash.

Supervillain shushed her, putting a finger to her bruised lips. "Quiet," he said, and brought an arm under her knees and another supporting her upper body.

He gasped for breath as he lifted her limp and heavy body. His limbs shook with exertion, but he forced himself to walk... one step at a time.

He was nearly at the door, ready to press the botton to open the large, garage door, when something shot into his neck.

He gasped. Aching pain sprouted from the spot. Glancing down, he saw blue and white feathers.

A dart.

"No," he gasped, using his elbow to press the botton. He knew the tranquilizer. He had maybe ten minutes before the sedative would kick in.

He had to move.

Slipping under the door, he ran. Moving his stiff legs faster than they had in a while. He didn't look back- that would just slow him down.

He sat Hero on the seat, slid in behind her and drove away.

After about ten minutes, like Supervillain predicted, he started getting horribly tired. He glanced behind him to see an SUV slowly following him.

"Think," he whispered to himself, pressing his face into Hero's back. Around him was a dense forest. If he just turned...

His body acted without thinking it through. He turned sharply, only for the motorcycle to crash into the guardrail. Him and Hero went flying, crashing into trees.

Just before their bodies connected with the river below, Supervillain flipped Hero's body over so he would take the full shock of the fall.

His body hit the rushing water. Pain shot through his ribs. But before the tranquilizer fully hit, Supervillain was able to grab onto a tree trunk and throw Hero over it.

Then he blacked out as a wave of water crashed over his face.

[chroniclackofselfpreservation]

Awake

⚠️This piece is a LAOFT AU, inspired by Mother by @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors, check out the original fic on AO3 here! ⚠️

(also, I am not nearly the fae-expert that Violet is, so I've taken quite the creative liberty with Virgil's mother. Please don't come for me.)

Awake takes place a year or so after the events of Mother.

Word count: 3513

AO3 link

Summary: Virgil has a long overdue conversation with his mother.

TW: spiders, brief/mild (non-sexual) nudity (fae-stuff, you know), mild blood/pain, mentions of parental neglect, sensory overload

… gil…

Virgil…

Virgil’s eye shot open. He tensed, listening. Even before the casket, he’d never been a heavy sleeper, and he was sure he’d heard his name. The four of them were sleeping in his room in fairyland, Roman asleep against his chest, Patton curled against Virgil’s back with Logan cuddling him from behind. Suddenly needing to be touching them all, Virgil reached back and rested a light hand on Logan’s knee.

Logan stirred, but didn’t wake.

Roman, on the other hand, shifted and cracked an eye. “Babe?”

“Go back to slee—”

Virgil.

He shot up to a seat, dislodging Roman and waking the other two. Virgil searched the room. He couldn’t pinpoint the direction the voice was coming from.

“V?” Patton yawned, sitting up with Logan. “What’s wrong?”

Virgil! it called again, more insistent. The seeds of panic began rooting in his chest. Something was speaking to him—that, or he was going crazy. He couldn’t sense any being even remotely close enough to call out to him, and if he couldn’t sense them, they could sneak up on him. On his partners.

“You don’t hear that?” he whispered.

“I hear nothing, Virgil,” Logan said, placing a grounding hand on his shoulder.

Imperceptible movement in the corner. A frantic, miniscule scrabbling. Virgil grasped the one knife he kept on him while he slept, strapped against his stomach, and flung it into the shadows. It sunk into the wall with a solid thunk.

Careful, brother!

We did not want to wake you.

Did you hear?

She is here!

She is awake! his sisters clamored, the shifting from the dark corner taking a frantic edge. Squinting, he realized they were writhing in a giant, excited nest in the upper corner of the room. They must have snuck in while he slept. Thankfully, he hadn’t impaled any of them. Strange, though. The room was dark, even for him. He couldn’t quite make out the far edges of the bedroom.

“That can’t be good for the wall,” Roman chuckled.

Patton let out a loving sigh. “V, we talked about the knives…”

“Sleeping with blades is incredibly unsafe,” Logan said, “especially with the three of us so close together.”

Virgil cast a careful glance Patton’s way, praying he didn’t notice the wriggling mass of arachnids that he was sure would terrify him. Though, if it was dark enough to give him trouble seeing things, he doubted any of his partners would notice. Relaxing a few notches, Virgil ran a tired hand down his face.

“My sisters are excited about something,” he said. “I’m sorry for waking you all.”

Patton stiffened imperceptibly, casting a wary glance across the bedsheets. Logan cupped a comforting hand on the side of his neck.

“There is no need for an apology,” Logan said, still soft with sleep. Roman relaxed back into the bed, stretching in a way that made Virgil think twice about going to investigate the voice.

Get up, the voice said, more amused than snappish. Excited, even. Virgil startled, reaching instinctively for knives he didn’t have on him. Something tickled at the back of his mind. He knew that voice… but from where?

“Virgil?” Roman asked softly, brow furrowing.

“Stay here,” he muttered, extracting himself from the bed with inhuman grace.

The second his feet touched the floor, a buzzing power flooded his body. He flinched, gasping.

Hello, Virgil, that subsonic voice reverberated through his skull. Looking down, he saw a sea of familiar shadows carpeting the floor.

Mother. You’re speaking, he said lamely, too shocked for eloquence.

Indeed, she rumbled. The shadows were thicker and more corporeal than before, lapping at the feet of the bed like smoky waves. It would explain why his sisters were up on the wall instead of the floor. Yes, Mother had created them, but they didn’t quite have the constitutions to interact with her as directly as he did.

He’d noticed the steadily returning strength of the forest in general since his brother’s demise, but after the encounter they’d had in Roman’s living room, his mother hadn’t reached out… almost as if she’d wanted her return to be a surprise.

I haven’t harmed your loves again, have I? she asked, sensing his apprehension. She sounded more exasperated than apologetic.

No. They’re fine. Thank you for keeping your distance.

“Virgil?” Patton asked again, and Roman made like he was going to hop off the bed.

Virgil held out a hand, eyes going wide. “No, wait!” he hissed.

Roman froze. “Virgil, I’m serious. What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, and he peered off the edge of the bed. A second of confusion before he muttered, “Ah.”

“My mother is in the room,” Virgil said, rapidly trying to think his way through the situation. He wasn’t keen on leaving his partners alone in fairyland, even if it was in his own quarters. However, if his mother was talking already, that meant she could probably hold a physical form as well, and there was no way Patton or Roman could stand her presence without permanent damage to their psyche. Logan, he wasn’t too sure about. Maybe.

His mother wasn’t simply fae. She was the mother of fear itself. The only thing his partners had encountered even remotely close to his mother’s physical form was the eldritch horror Greta had become—and they’d all seen the havoc it had wrought on mortal minds. They weren’t built for it.

Roman swallowed, leaning away from the edge of the bed. He hid his fear well, Virgil would give him that. Not that he particularly blamed him.

Patton, on the other hand, visibly paled. “Really?” he squeaked, pressing back against Logan. “Where? I don’t see anything.”

“I imagine that is the point,” Logan said, wrapping Patton protectively in his arms. He cast a glance at Virgil. “Your mother manifests primarily as shadow, yes?”

Virgil nodded. “I need to speak with her elsewhere. My sisters will… keep an eye out.”

Logan gripped the charm at his neck and nodded. “We will be fine, Virgil.”

Virgil managed a weak smile, then turned his attention to the ceiling where his sisters were spreading out, covering nearly every square inch. He so rarely saw all of them in one place—several groups often doing small reconnaissance missions around fairyland for him. It was the only way he was able to keep up with the ever-shifting moods of the court. Virgil sometimes forgot just how many of them there were.

“Stay off the bed,” he warned, pointing a finger.

Of course, brother!

We would not scare your dear ones!

Patton!

We love Patton!

We will keep them safe! they chorused.

Virgil cocked a dubious eyebrow, then turned, throwing the balcony doors open and hopping up onto the ledge.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Patton gave a nod and a smile.

The shadows in the room swirled with a sound like someone ripping away a tablecloth and converged on Virgil. Something in his mind clicked. The darkness hung about him like a cape, filling him with power, and he couldn’t help the echoing, inhuman laughter bubbling up his throat.

He caught a glimpse of Roman’s paling face. Logan’s mouth pulled down into the beginnings of concern, but it didn’t register.

Virgil tipped back off the balcony and disappeared with a flutter of fabric, the night itself enveloping him in a cool embrace.

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

Come on, Virgil. Faster. Faster!

They dashed through the deepest parts of the forest, the boundaries between their minds blurring and shifting. Trees the size of buildings towered above them. The air was alive with magic—or maybe that was simply his mother, expressing herself fully for the first time in centuries. He could practically taste it on his tongue, jaw-tingling and electrifying. The forest hummed with it.

Laughter, free and wild, pounded through his chest and Virgil wasn’t sure which of them it was. His heart hammered in his ribcage, fast enough to kill any mortal human. Electricity so hot it was cold crackled across his skin.

Mother, he managed through the frenzy, breathless. Mother, where are we going? He’d never seen her this excited. It was almost too much, even for him.

Home! she cried triumphantly.

For a split second, Virgil thought she meant the witch hazel, but they weren’t anywhere near it. At least, he was pretty sure they weren’t. If he recognized where they were, the power coursing through him kept his mind too out-of-focus to do so. Magic tore through him—too much for so small a vessel. If it went on much longer, Virgil thought he’d tear apart at the seams.

At last, they slowed to a stop just outside of a grassy clearing. Virgil’s breath caught at the sight. In the middle of the clearing, dwarfing even the monstrous trees of the surrounding forest, stood a glossy black tree—easily ten times taller than Wickhills’ quaint, steepled chapel. It looked like blown glass, with silver and gold veins twisting through its trunk and branches. The leaves, distant though they were, looked razor sharp. Like teeth, almost. Virgil felt small in a way he rarely did. In his mother’s absence, he’d grown used to being the scariest thing around. She, it seemed, was about to upend that notion.

The darkness slipped from Virgil’s shoulders and stole the air from his lungs. He stumbled against a tree, ears ringing. The darkness coalesced into an enormous, roiling mass of black that coiled around the base of the tree.

Watch, Mother said, and he could practically hear her smile.

Virgil coughed, tasting blood on his lips. Bringing up a trembling hand, he found his nose bleeding.

You’ve gone soft, his brother’s voice echoed in his ears and Virgil spit, wiping his face. True, the relative peace he’d established in the court meant he didn’t use his full power on any kind of regular basis, but his mother was undeniably stronger. That, or she’d simply been holding back all this time.

Virgil sank to a seat, sweat slicking his face and arms, watching with weary amazement as the sea of shadow shifted and folded in on itself. He was ready for the display to trigger thoughts of Greta, of the beast she’d become… but Mother was different. Terrifying, yes, but different. More in control.

I’m glad you’re back.

Me too, little one.

A lump formed in Virgil’s throat. It had been so long since anyone had called him that.

Eventually, the darkness took shape. Her head was the size of Logan’s house, impossibly black with galaxies for eyes and hair that undulated as if underwater. A sinuous neck led first to shoulders, then arms, hands, and fingers that had no definite tips and bled shadow. Her dark chest was bare, her stomach curved and soft like folds of black velvet. The of bottom half her body looked like those insects Logan had shown him—millipedes. Dozens of legs lined a plated, serpentine body, but the legs arched up at sharp angles like a spider’s. Shadows licked up off of her entire body like dark ribbons of flame, distorting any solid edges.

“Hmmm,” she hummed, lifting a hand to feel the vibrations of her throat. Virgil felt it through his entire body. “Interesting. It's been a while since I’ve had a mouth.” She laughed, and the clearing rumbled.

You were born here? Virgil asked, sure if he spoke aloud she wouldn’t be able to hear him.

“In a sense. This is where I began. I do not have a mother in the same way that I am yours. Something before me must have left—or died—and I simply filled the emptiness,” she explained. “The world likes balance.” She moved to lie on her stomach, resting her head on her hands. If Virgil stood, his head would only just pass the crest of her upper lip.

Her massive eyes widened. “You are bleeding, little one.”

“Yes,” he croaked, now that she was close enough to hear.

Mother was silent for a moment, before asking, “Did I do that?”

“You didn’t know,” he said. Her eyes narrowed at the indirect answer.

“I am sorry,” she murmured, her cool breath washing over him like a pleasant breeze. “My excitement got the better of me. Come,” she said, rising up to a sort of seat with her insectoid body coiled beneath her. Virgil grunted and rose to his feet. He felt sore all over, like he’d fought an entire army single-handed. His nose still hadn’t stopped bleeding. Patton would have a fit when he saw the crimson stains littering the front of his sleep shirt.

Mother cupped her two hands together and deftly scooped him up off the ground. That same buzz of power filled him, but slower this time, seeping into him like the warmth of a bath. The pain melted away. She couldn’t heal like he and Logan could—again, she wasn’t fae, at least in the sense that Virgil was. The lack of a permanent physical body meant she had no need for healing powers. When they parted, he’d likely feel like he’d been run over, but for now, Mother did what she could.

She lifted him to her shoulder, hands perfectly steady beneath him. Virgil sat, feet resting just above her collarbone.

He laughed.

“What is it, little one?” Mother asked, gazing up at the stars.

“I wonder if this is what my sisters feel like around me.”

A chuckle rumbled through his mother, deep and sonorous. “Indeed.”

“What will you do, now that you are back to your full strength?”

“The same things I’ve always done, I suppose,” she said, a smile splitting across her face. “Watch over the forest. Over you and those loves of yours.” Then she paused, as if considering something. “Dorothy Marie Galloway Sanders.”

Virgil stiffened at the full name. She hadn’t called her Dot, so he was fairly certain it wasn’t her true name, but still. It sounded awfully close.

“She is mother to one of your darlings, yes?”

“Why do you ask?” Virgil said carefully.

“Have you ever wished for a mother like that?”

Virgil’s throat went dry. “That answer is quite complicated.”

“I thought so,” she said, her smile fading into resignation.

Virgil remembered the first time he saw Dot gather an upset Logan in her arms, rocking him gently. The sudden, gut-punching longing had taken Virgil by surprise. When May ruffled his hair or patted his shoulder, it took everything in him not to hold on, to ask for… for what? More love? He had love. Inordinate amounts of it. His wonderful partners loved him. Greta had loved him, and Trudi. His sisters loved him. He shouldn’t need any more. It would be… greedy.

“You told me you were lonely,” she said, “back when you were so very young. I didn’t understand that I could have filled that role much better than your brother did. I figured you two would be fine, especially after I’d made your sisters, so I left you to run things and by the time I realized how wrong I’d been, my power was waning and you were…”

“You did not put me in that casket,” he croaked.

“My negligence might as well have.”

Virgil’s vision blurred with tears that he tried to swallow back. “I don’t blame you, Mother.”

She glanced down at him. “You cannot lie, yet fear fills your words, little one.”

He let out a shaky exhale. “I simply fear losing you, as I fear losing everything as I once had,” he admitted, then, in a voice so quiet and small he felt like a child again, he said, “Please don’t leave me.”

Mother scooped him up in her hands once more, bringing him level with her eyes. She rested her thumb against his chest, the weight comforting and probably the closest he’d get to an actual hug.

“Never again, little one.”

His breath hitched, and the tears finally spilled over.

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

Mother delivered Virgil back to the fairy hill just before dawn. Alighting on the balcony’s edge without a sound, the shapeless mass of shadow retreated from around him.

Goodnight, little one.

Goodnight, mother, he replied, face still tacky from crying. The moment she departed, pain and heaviness slammed back into him. Fresh blood trickled from his nose and his vision swam. Thankfully, he stumbled forward, instead of pitching backward off the edge of the balcony.

Virgil stumbled like a drunk through the balcony doors. Logan, who sat perfectly still against the headboard reading a book, looked up and all the blood drained from his face. He shook Patton and Roman awake. They all shot to their feet, Patton getting a little tangled in the blankets on the way.

“Virgil?!”

“V, oh my goodness—”

“—what happened? I thought you said—”

Brother!

Brother is hurt!

What happened, brother?

We will avenge you! his sisters shrieked. Exhaustion, and pain, and the overall emotional rawness from his exchange with his mother riddled Virgil’s mind, turning everything into a muddled soup of noise. He staggered forward, catching himself on the rim of the sink-like basin of water against the wall—enchanted to stay clean and filled no matter what.

They just kept talking. So much was happening at once. A hand rested against his back, and he flinched so violently his grip cracked the rim of the basin. “Don’t—” he snapped before he could bite his tongue, and the hand retracted instantly. Even his sisters went silent. Virgil took a breath, running his hands through his sweat-matted hair. “Sorry,” he muttered, unsure if he’d be sick or not. “It’s that… overload thing.”

“What do you need, Virgil?” Logan asked, voice carefully calm despite the blood drying on Virgil’s face and hands.

“Quiet,” he sighed. “Just for a minute.”

They must have nodded. Virgil heard them retreating to the bed. After a few more steadying breaths, he began to wash his hands, the water turning pink for only a second before the enchantment purified it again. He cleaned his face and pulled the stained shirt up over his head, tossing it to the floor. He was too tired to care.

Stumbling to the bed, he caught himself on the bedpost, Roman instantly beneath his other arm, supporting his weight. Virgil collapsed onto the bed, groaning both in relief and pain. It was as if he’d pulled every muscle in his body. Eventually, his own magic would heal him, but that would take hours. He rolled to his back, cracking open one eye and shooting a weary but genuine smile at his three partners.

“Get in here,” he chuckled. They all collectively relaxed, Patton even letting out a relieved sigh. Logan rounded the bed to claim Virgil’s other side.

“Gently, gently,” he cautioned as they maneuvered closer to him. Patton curled up at his side, sandwiched between him and Roman. Virgil rested his arm across Patton’s shoulder and ran his fingers through Roman’s hair. Logan pressed firmly against Virgil’s opposite side, fidgeting gently with the ends of Virgil’s hair.

“What happened?” Patton asked, looking up at Virgil with those beautiful golden eyes so full of worry. “I thought you were with your mother.”

“I was,” Virgil said.

Roman went impossibly still. “Did she do this?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“She did not hurt me intentionally,” he said, resting his hand on Roman’s cheek, “simply got over-excited.”

Roman gripped his hand back tight, looking anything but comforted. Virgil forced himself not to wince.

“Roman, look at me,” he said, rising up on an elbow despite the protest of his ribs and shoulders. “My mother has never intentionally hurt me, has never made the same mistake twice, and always apologizes. She’s just… complicated and doesn’t understand the fragility of smaller beings very well.”

“I remember,” Logan muttered into Virgil’s shoulder.

“She sounds a bit like me,” Patton whispered, hand splayed across Virgil’s stomach, dipping up and down with his every breath. “You know, back before I could control my voice.”

Virgil pressed a kiss to Patton’s temple. “Yeah, it’s a bit like that.”

“All right,” Roman said, though he didn’t release Virgil’s hand completely.

He relaxed onto his back once more, closing his eyes. The pain was fading to the back of his mind—still there, but muted.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Roman said, turning Virgil’s hand over and tracing the lines of his palm.

Logan’s thumb brushed his face. “Have you been crying, dear?”

Virgil swallowed, opening his eyes again. “My mother and I had a long overdue conversation.”

“Good or bad?” Patton asked hesitantly.

Virgil considered for a moment. “Good, I think?”

“You think?” Roman asked.

He took a breath. “It… hurt, talking about things I’d never voiced before, but I’m glad I did. Things between us are better because of it.”

“In that case, I am very proud of you,” Logan mumbled into his shoulder, and Virgil relaxed. He was comfortable, and so very tired.

Virgil pulled all three of them closer, and, at last, drifted off into sleep.

[neonthewrite]

Washed Up Winchesters 8 (Final)

The mystery is solved and the case closed! It seems the Winchesters didn't quite expect things to go this way, but when there's a giant involved, all kinds of things go differently!

Cowritten with @nightmares06, the writer behind the @brothersapart multiverse!

( 1 ) ( 2 ) ( 3 ) ( 4 ) ( 5 ) ( 6 ) ( 7 ) -8-

Story Tag

Read Time ~10 minutes

~~~~~

Chase pushed himself up and shook his head. He was more used to being swept up in a giant hand, but toppling over a few times had winded him. He frowned over the edge of the hand, then over at Sam. “What?”

Jacob’s other hand lifted to be level with them. Minnie was clinging to his thumb and scanning the flock of sheep warily. They were all still milling around, keeping a tight group, several of them aiming disdainful baaas up in the air. Dean’s defiant stand over their heads certainly had not gone unnoticed. Minnie had never seen sheep act like that, certainly not in the shadow of a giant. “Sam?”

"Th-the sheep!" Sam gestured in the direction of the hostile flock. "We're chasing skinwalkers, not werewolves! They can be any type of animal, so long as it's what the pack started out as!"

The confusion on Dean's face cleared. "So you're saying this flock is the people we've been chasing the whole time?"

Sam nodded at the silver knife in Dean's hand. "One way to find out for sure."

Jacob frowned pensively. Even after hearing about how dangerous the skinwalkers were, he could hardly imagine the flock of fluffy sheep before him causing much trouble. Mostly they milled around among each other, all keeping tabs on Dean with his glimmering knife. It was weird that they didn't even want to run from Jacob, but he hadn't made any moves against them.

Even Chase and Minnie had been mostly spared. Chase had only fallen over because he kept trying to pull Dean up.

Jacob decided to throw in his two cents. "I mean, they're… they're not really doing anything," he pointed out.

"Except yelling at us," Chase agreed, waving a hand at a ram that bleated insistently up at him.

"Wait," Minnie chimed in, her brow pinching with confusion. "Do they understand what we're saying when they're in their whatever-form?"

Sam circled a hand through the air aimlessly, trying to gather his thoughts and what he knew of their current enemies. "Skinwalkers aren't like werewolves, who give in to their more... animalistic side when they transform. They maintain their regular consciousness and memory. The main danger is that they can transfer their ability with a bite, increasing the size of their pack... or flock." Sam gave the flock of sheep a strange look. He'd never encountered supernatural creatures in the guise of herbivores like the sheep. This case was shaping up to be unique in more ways than one.

"That means," Sam continued, "they know just who we are, and anything we said while we were here. Which is why they were so quick to lunge at me and Dean. They already found us once on the ship, when they were in their human forms. We couldn't stay under cover, and ended up tossed overboard."

Minnie frowned critically over the side of Jacob’s hand, even as the giant lifted everyone slightly higher. If those sheep really were skinwalkers, and at this point they certainly weren’t acting like normal sheep, they’d just let the group wander among them. She’d patted their heads and tried to click at them like she did with her lambs back home and everything. The feeling that wormed into her gut was something like betrayal.

“So these guys might be the reason I found you floundering out in the waves,” Jacob echoed, a disapproving frown on his face.

“Well what do they--” Chase began, asking Sam first before looking over the side of the hand at the nearest sheep bleating up at them. “What do you want in Lilliput then?!”

For a long moment, it appeared as though Chase's demand would go unanswered. The sheep milled restlessly around, giving Jacob's feet a wide berth as they bleated.

Then, the ram that had given Dean a runaround when he was on the ground stepped out into an opening that formed in the flock. It cocked its head, fixing one eye on the hand that held Chase, Minnie, Sam and Dean. Its expression was impossible to read as it looked them over, one by one.

There was a shift, and then the ram's horns appeared to melt away. Several cracks could be heard as its back shifted to an upright position, and the hooves split into four fingers and a thumb.

After less than ten seconds from when the shift started, the ram stood there as a regal and distinguished looking man, dressed in a simple white shirt and dark pants. He frowned at the people in Jacob's hand, then up at the giant himself.

"As I recall," the man said, "you were the ones to smuggle onto our ship when we had done nothing to you in turn, stinking of silver and gunpowder."

Seeing the transformation had been more than enough to leave Jacob, Minnie, and even Chase speechless for a hesitant moment. Jacob’s mouth opened slightly, as amazed as he’d been the first time he met Chase. He had never really thought about tiny people existing anywhere before. He definitely hadn’t imagined them having the ability to turn into tiny sheep. “Uh. Wh… what,” he muttered.

“I mean. I guess that’s technically true,” Chase finally admitted, sending an uncomfortable sideways glance at Sam and Dean. He frowned down at the apparent leader of a flock of sheep skinwalkers. “So … are skinwalkers usually dangerous, or not? ‘Cause I feel like that would clear up a lot, knowing what you actually plan to do in Lilliput, right?”

The man’s lip curled in disgust. “Oh, please,” he said disparagingly. “Unlike our more… wolf-ish cousins, we have no interest in anyone’s hearts.”

Next to him, a second sheep transformed back. This one was shorter, and he had very mousy features in comparison to the ram’s dignified look. “But we like Romaine hearts,” he stuttered out insistently. “Right? Right?!”

“Please, Jerimiah,” the ram said. “This situation is delicate enough without your help.” He turned to look up at the Lilliputians and Blefuscians held in the giant’s hand. “Haven’t you ever heard ‘The grass is greener on the other side?’ We are here in search of better pastures. Nothing more.”

Chase’s mouth opened in a delighted grin over the bad pun. Before he could try to chime in with his own, Minnie slapped his arm with the back of her hand. In her opinion, she had enough to deal with without her brother adding to the pile. She’d thought this was a poor lost flock of sheep. Not an intentional group of … magic shapeshifting squatters. “So are Sam and Dean the only ones you hurt, or …?”

Jacob heaved a slow sigh. Minnie had a point. If they had left behind more than just Sam and Dean, it would be dangerous having the shapeshifters around Lilliput too. “Yeah, I mean. I’m pretty sure I can outrun you guys, but what’s to stop you from sneaking along later and trying something again? Are Chase and Minnie here in danger because they know your secret?”

The ram’s mouth twisted in annoyance. “All we want is green fields and calm waters,” he explained. “Any Blefuscans that we ran into, we ran off, nothing more. These… hunters that followed us were the most persistent, and I couldn’t risk the safety of my flock. Throwing them off the ship was only done as a last resort.”

Looking over the rest of the flock, and a brief glance at the twitchy Jerimiah, the ram shook his head in doubt. “Perhaps it was merely a pipe dream to find a place free of warmongering, but we had to try.”

“So…” Sam tentatively leaned forward. “Your main plan is to get as far from civilization, and stay there?”

“Sammy…” Dean started, but was ignored.

The ram nodded. “It seemed like a more likely situation to find in Lilliput compared to Blefuscu. Such an idyllic land…” He turned to Chase and Minnie. “No one here is at risk from my flock, I give you my word. Even if we get sent back to Blefuscu.” The last statement was said with a sideways glance at Dean.

The guy seemed genuine enough. Having lived in Lilliput for a bit, Jacob knew the locals to be fussy but harmless. They would likely be too caught up in their own drama to notice an extra flock of sheep up past the hills, especially since no one really wandered this far anyway. He decided that he believed the stern little guy.

It wasn't really up to him, though. He lowered his hands a bit, not enough to put his passengers at risk but at least to bring them more level with the ram. "Whatcha think, Chase? Minnie?"

"It's weird," Chase said, practically bursting for an opening to speak up. "Sheep-people .... sheepshifters!"

Minnie smacked his arm. "How is that helping?" she scolded, before addressing the ram again. "I don't think anyone uses these pastures so you won't get anyone upset. But will you even be safe out here? From wolves and things, I mean?"

The ram looked down his nose at her. “Wolves have been our problem since the start,” he said with a sharp look sent in Dean’s direction. “We haven’t been able to shake them yet.”

Sam stepped between Dean and the ram with an arm to separate them, before thoughtless words could be thrown. “If we leave you be, does this mean you’ll leave the Lilliputians alone?” he asked, trying to keep the focus. “We’re only here to deal with threats.”

The ram sighed. “We won’t bother a soul, you have my word. So long as we have our pastures.”

Sam put his arm down. “I think our job’s done then,” he said. “They’ll just need a safe place to call home now.”

“This works,” Chase agreed, gesturing at the current pasture. Aside from Jacob looming over the field with several people standing on his hands, it was a simple, idyllic view. The area was lush, if a bit wild, and unbothered by Lilliput or Blefuscu. “We even have Jacob here to come check on you sometimes if you need anything.”

Jacob rolled his eyes at being volunteered so easily. It was his lot in life anymore, to have Chase suggest him for any task that needed doing. “I have a pretty easy time getting over here,” he agreed anyway. “If you need supplies.”

Minnie glanced over at Sam and Dean. Sam seemed mollified, though Dean looked as ready for a fight as ever. Looking back at the sheep, she gave them an exaggerated shrug. “Looks like everyone’s okay, so … it all worked out? This time?”

The ram gave Minnie a stiff half-bow, looking uncomfortable with the unfamiliar gesture. “We will hold up our end of the bargain,” he promised.

With a quick shift, the man again turned into a ram. Large, curving horns came out of his forehead first before he fell forward onto a new set of hooves. By the time he hit the ground, he could have blended in with any herd of sheep and proceeded to walk amongst the others. Jerimiah followed suit next. Then, a slowly stirring wave expanded throughout the herd until they were all heading in the same ambling direction.

Sam sighed, blowing out his bangs. “Case closed.”

“Weirdest case ever,” Dean complained. “Almost as weird as running into the actual giant in the lands.” He sent Jacob a side-eye. “Maybe next time we’re in Lilliput, we can enlist some extra help again?” Despite his usual gruff tone of voice, the interest in having a giant helper shone right through.

Chase drew himself up proudly, though he still stood notably shorter than either brother. “We’re totally ready to kick some ass, anytime we’re needed.”

Minnie rolled her eyes. “Preeeetty sure they were asking for Jacob,” she pointed out, nudging Chase with an elbow.

“Hey! I helped!”

Jacob smirked. He’d gotten somewhat used to the surly attitude from Dean. It seemed the little folk over in Blefuscu could be just as excitable as the Lilliputians he’d come to know. Chase and Minnie’s antics were practically a given. “I’m basically a glorified taxi,” he warned. “But I’ll be here.”

[oikawaplssteponme]

PART 10 | previously: part 9 | masterlist

pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x fem! reader

ratings/warnings: swearing, ✨SPICY CONTENT✨ (16+ is probably best) (reminder that characters are aged up)

synopsis: When UA’s hot heads, Katsuki Bakugou and you, are forced to put your hatred for each other aside and plan the third year Prom, things end up getting a little heated...

a/n: hi hi!! ahhh the moment we’ve all been waiting for (or i have been at least☺️) this part is pretty long oops but honestly worth it ahah✨ thank you again for all the love on this, it means a lot 💕 enjoy xx

•

ten: say it

The day had come. It was the night before Prom. These agonizing months of planning would soon be over. All your hard work would be on display for your entire grade to see. But what seemed to be stressing you out the most was that you and Bakugou wouldn’t have an excuse to spend time together, or even talk. Odds were that the second the dance is over, you and Bakugou would go back to enemies, or worse, strangers. That thought didn’t sit well with you. After all, you now had such strong feelings for Bakugou. The last thing you wanted was for him to ignore you. Though you felt that was what probably would happen.

“Aren’t you all just so excited for tomorrow?” squealed Mina.

“Not like you haven't asked us the same question a hundred times,” groaned Denki. Mina huffed.

“Well excuse me for being excited for our first Prom.”

“And last gladly,” you added. Your friends looked at you.

“Damn Y/N you could at least pretend to be excited,” joked Kirishima. You laughed nervously.

“Ah sorry. I’ve never been one to like dances,” you admitted.

“Come on, everyone likes dances,” insisted Uraraka. You shook your head.

“I don’t. They are too loud, too crowded, too many idiots who think they can dance when they really can’t.”

“I don’t think anything could be much louder than your quirk Y/N,” laughed Sero. You playfully hit his arm.

“Whatever. Well if you dumb dumbs want a good Prom tomorrow, I have some last minute planning I need to take care of,” you explained. You got up the couch where you were seated and went over to your dorm room. You changed into your pajamas, just a t-shirt and shorts, and went down to the basement.

You had asked Bakugou for the keys earlier so you didn’t have to worry about the basement being locked. You opened the door, the familiar wave of dingy basement overwhelmed your senses just as it did the first time you went inside. You signed.

I definitely won’t miss the smell.

You went over to the endless piles of boxes, shuffling through them.

Where the fuck are they?

Finally you found just what you were looking for. The crowns for Prom King and Queen. Cheesy, yes, but some traditions never die. You grabbed the dusty crowns and a cleaning wipe and sat down on the table. You crossed your legs and began to clean off the plastic crowns.

“I figured I would find you down here.” You whipped your head around to see Bakugou.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” you joked. Bakugou joined you on the table.

“Who do you think is gonna win?” asked Bakugou, pointing to the crowns.

“I know Aoyama has been practically begging people to vote for him so I hope he wins. I think Momo had mentioned wanting to win, but so did Mina so I guess we'll know tomorrow,” you explained. Bakugou nodded. He took the queen crown from your hands and placed it on your head.

“Yeah, you’d look pretty stupid if you won so hopefully no one votes for you,” he said. You yanked the crown off of your head and slapped Bakugou’s arm.

“Fuck off,” you laughed. Bakugou sighed.

“I guess this is kinda it,” said Bakugou. You looked down.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” you whispered.

“You know what Y/N, you’re not all that bad really.”

“It only took you three years to realize that dumbass...but thanks,” you smiled.

The tension between you and Bakugou, well, you could cut it with a knife. He sat so close to you, your feet dangling over the edge of the table. Before you even realized what you were doing, you were moving. You hopped off of the table and stood in front of Bakugou, in between his legs.

“What are you doing dumbass-”

“Just shut up for a second.” You looked down, refusing to make any eye contact with him. You took the collar of Bakugou’s shirt with your shaky hands. You gripped onto it and pulled him towards you, still not looking at him. You weren’t even thinking at this point, just letting your actions take over.

“Y/N look at me,” ordered Bakugou. You took a deep breath and slowly lifted your head up. Your eyes met Bakugou’s. You began to slowly move closer to him.

“Katsuki I-I-”

“It’s past curfew, you two should be in your dorms.”

“Fucking hell-”

You immediately jumped away from Bakugou and both of you looked over to the familiar voice.

“Uh we’re sorry Mr. Aizawa,” you apologized.

“Whatever last minute planning you two need to do, you can do it in the morning. Get to your rooms.”

“Right.” You and Bakugou immediately sprinted out the door. Your skin burned, you were so embarrassed. How could you think to confess your feelings to Bakugou like that?

~

You caught your breath once you were back at the dorms. Bakugou stood next to you.

“Well goodnight Kat-”

Before you could finish your sentence, Bakugou had grabbed your hand and was leading you towards his room.

“Katsuki its late-”

“Then you should be quiet.” Bakugou unlocked the door to his room and brought you inside. He instantly closed the door behind you and pinned your wrists onto the door.

“What the hell was that?” he huffed. His breath was heavy on your face, which didn’t help the burning sensation you felt all over you.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied.

“In the basement.”

“Well I-I...”

Bakugou looked you dead in the eyes.

“You were gonna kiss me, weren’t you?” Your eyes grew.

“W-what? Me? Kiss you? No…” Bakugou chuckled. He began to rub his thumbs up and down on your skin as he held your wrists to the door.

“Are you really getting timid on me Y/N? What happened to that hot-head personality we all love?” Bakugou was visibly taunting you. Every smirk, every glance up and down, every time he would tighten his grip on you. He wanted to see you flustered, and it was working.

“I-uh-” He laughed again.

“Come on princess, don’t play dumb with me. Go on, say it.”

“W-what?”

“I haven’t got all day Y/N.”

“Say what?” Bakugou licked his lips and whispered in your ear.

“Say that you want me just as badly as I want you.”

Before you could even think, words spilled out of your mouth.

“Make me.”

Bakugou tilted his head back, letting out a breathy: “Fuck…” before looking back at you.

“You really wanna play this game dumbass?” You gulped.

“Yes…”

Bakugou smirked at you, licking his lips once more.

“Alright, then how’s this?”

Bakugou let go of your wrists and snaked his hands around your waist, gripping around you tightly. He took another small shuffle closer to you. His thumbs rubbing the hem of your shirt, slowly exposing more skin.

“You’re gonna have to try a little harder than that Katsuki,” you said breathily, your heart pounding out of your chest.

“How about now?” Bakugou slowly moved his hands from your waist and down to your ass. You lost your breath at his touch. Bakugou brushed the tip of his nose against yours, a cheeky smile on his face.

“Nope,” you whispered. It was impressive enough that you could even form a sentence at this point. The entire room felt like a million degrees.

“Last chance Y/N…”

Bakugou removed one of his hands from his grip on you and brought it up to your face. He caressed your cheek softly. He then took his thumb and pressed it on your aching lips before painfully slowly dragging it down. He brought his face close to yours again, your lips almost touching.

“Go on...say it.”

You couldn’t take his teasing any longer. His hot breath mixing with yours. He was so close, smirking at you. He knew exactly what he was doing. So, there was only one thing for you to do.

“Fuck you Katsuki.”

You closed the gap between yours and Bakugou’s lips, kissing him intensely. Bakugou didn’t waste another second, immediately picking you up and carrying you towards his bed. He laid you down on your back, hovering over you as he continued to kiss you. You tugged at the collar of his shirt.

“Eager much?” he teased, pulling his shirt over his head. His perfectly sculpted body was breathtaking to say the least.

“You’re staring Y/N.”

“I am not,” you huffed. You took your t-shirt, taking it off as well. Bakugou’s eyes grew as he looked at you just in your bra.

“Look who is staring now?”

“Shut up.” Bakugou dipped back down, kissing you again. You brought your hands up to his hair, running your fingers through it. Bakugou began to trail his lips down to your neck, placing endless kisses all over you. He then began to suck on your neck, slowly.

“Maybe I’ll just have to spell my name all over you. Mark you up...make sure everyone knows you’re mine,” he groaned against your neck. Chills trailed down your spine.

“Fuck Katsuki…”

“God I love it when you say my name-”

Bakugou continued to kiss your neck, marking you up as promised. You started to breath a little faster, your heart pounding. You brought Bakugou’s head back up to face you, bringing your lips to his.

It was everything you wanted and more. The way he kissed you. The way his skin was pressed against yours. It was magic.

You continued to run your fingers through his hair, pulling slightly just to get him as to you as possible.

“God you’re so fucking gorgeous. Fuck princess-.” At this point, Bakugou was just spitting out whatever thoughts came to mind. You were intoxicating to him.

He tucked his arm under you, flipping you so that you were now straddling him. You held his warm face in between your rough hands. He gripped onto your hips, pulling you closer to him.

“Wait Katsuki I-I,” you broke away from the kiss for just a moment.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked. You smiled, shaking your head.

“No not at all. It just um-” Bakugou sat up, having you sit in his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

“This is probably terrible timing but...Katsuki Bakugou, I think I’m in love with you,” you said nervously. Bakugou smiled.

“I know dumbass, I’m not stupid.” He placed a kiss on your forehead. You smiled shyly.

“That's all I wanted to say...we can go back to what we were doing.” Bakugou chuckled.

“So eager again.”

~

Your head rested on Bakugou’s chest as he traced his finger along your back. It had to be at least 3am.

“It’s way past your bedtime Katsuki,” you whispered.

“Who needs sleep when I’ve got you here,” he said. You looked up at him and smiled.

“We still do, silly,” You tapped his nose. Bakugou sat up.

“Hold on…” He got up from the bed and walked over to his closet.

“Here.”

“Your skull t-shirt?”

“Yeah…uh, you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to-”

“Of course I want to wear it.” You slipped his favorite shirt on. A smile now appeared on Bakugou’s face.

“Y-you look good,” he said nervously, his cheeks flushed red. You chucked grabbing his arm to lay back down with you.

“Maybe we should get some sleep,” he smiled, rubbing your back again. You nestled your head into the crook of Bakugou’s neck.

“Hmmm okay…” you yawned. Bakugou chuckled.

“Get some rest dumbass.” Bakugou wrapped his arms around you as you laid on his chest. Your breath and his were perfectly in time. Bakugou waited until you were asleep for him to sleep as well. The both of you drifting to sleep with silly smiles plastered on your faces.

•

[taglist OPEN: @vangoghpoets @vangoghmusings @bokutory @complimentaryhugsgirl @cloudswritings @kriswu46 @neodnyl @evivn1 @jazzylove @mileven-reddie @whalerus @misssugarless @random-fandom-girl-24 @fanfiction-and-stress @ushiwakatrash @minhoswife @addictofsupernatural @the-shota-king-masayuki @freyafolkvangr @fourteenow @tamaguchi @lalayy @athenarosaline @blxck-coffee @katsukibabe @thatonegeekchick @that-chick212 @bibly @nxynxy @theunknownrandom @flustered-blue-eyed-sex-muffin @94potterhead @moonlightaangel @katusukisbitch2000 @secondchoicealwaysandforever @salsaedx @ukaisgratefulwhore if your name is bold i couldnt tag you ]

[hailbop1701]

Fleet Week

October 5, 2021 (Stabbed)

Word Count: 2,018

This one has to be one of my favorites! Not beta-read (yet I think it may be updated later on) but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

-H

Masterlist

Starfleet medical was bustling with activity, this was due to the fact it was the busiest time of the year. Fleet Week; like the days of old. Fleet Week was the tradition of being in a port town for shore leave. Now it was when multiple fleet vessels were orbiting Earth for some well-deserved shore leave at home.

San Francisco is sprawling with multiple different species with multiple different diseases, drugs, and STDs. So this means that the local hospitals were overflowing and doctors and nurses were at their wit’s end.

“Fucking Fleet Week,”

One doctor growled his southern drawl more pronounced after working the ER for the past seven hours after his regular thirteen-hour shift. Rushing in and out between cubicles of overflowing patients, he saw almost ten people in the last ten minutes. And he definitely saw more than he ever wanted to, but unfortunately, that’s the job.

Doctor Leonard McCoy scowled his way through the throngs of people in the Emergency room, upon seeing him they parted like the Red Sea. He looked down at his PADD with a grumble, the man he had just treated had shoved several data chips down his throat in hopes to hide the information from the police. McCoy rolled his eyes and signed the PADD before shoving it into the hands of the officer who brought the guy in, “Watch him closer next time,” he growled as he walked past.

Taking another PADD from the nurse who was trailing him. “Cube seven, multiple lacs, and a dislocated shoulder.” She said with pursed lips. McCoy stopped and looked at her and then the name on the PADD.

“Really?”

The nurse shrugged, “He asked for you specifically,” she crossed her arms knowing exactly how to deal with the cantankerous doctor. Throwing up his hands in defeat, Leonard strode over to the cubicle and glared at its occupant. Sitting there with a shit-eating grin was James T. Kirk. He was bleeding from multiple different deep cuts and gently held his arm to his chest,

“Hey Bones!” the kid greeted and McCoy snorted his brewing headache steadily growing worse and worse. The stabbing pain made him wince ever so slightly as he moved to examine his battered friend.

“Damnit Jim,” the doctor muttered. Kirk winced but laughed as McCoy gently poked and prodded at him. “I swear it wasn’t my fault this time!” the young cadet said hissing in pain when he accidentally jostled his shoulder. McCoy hummed sounding unconvinced,

“Yeah, who was she?” he asked looking at Kirk with a raised eyebrow. The kid laughed dryly and nodded, “Lucy…” he breathed and then frowned,

“Shit, I forgot to get her comm. number.”

McCoy shook his head looking exasperated. Clicking his tongue Leonard gestured for the nurse to take Kirk’s other side. Together they managed to get the cadet’s shoulder back into place. Jim gritted his teeth but otherwise didn’t make a sound; unsurprised McCoy took the hypo the nurse offered and unceremoniously jabbed it into Kirk's neck. The young man yelped,

“I thought you were supposed to do that before putting my shoulder back into place?!”

Leonard gave his best friend a smirk and shrugged, “I forgot,” he said innocently tapping away at his PADD. Jim grumbled curses under his breath, he slowly laid down, shifting uncomfortably as the nurse began to clean him up and place a regen unit on his lacerations.

A loud shriek and crash from outside made Leonard fumble and drop his PADD to the floor with a shatter. Kirk sat up quickly and groaned in pain at the sudden movement. The screaming and shouting continued, “Stay here!” he ordered his patient and nurse. Striding out into the bay McCoy swiveled and saw immediately what the problem was.

A very large man was rampaging through the ER. “Fucking Fleet Week,” he snarled. Rushing over to a sealed medical cabinet Leonard placed his hand on the scanner. It beeped and lit up green before opening with a low hiss. Grabbing a detox hypo and a potent sedative Leonard moved cautiously back into the fray.

The man was wrecking and tearing apart the ER was practically naked; right down to his skivvies. Leonard eyed the screaming snarling man as he quietly approached, ‘Elevated body temperature, confusion, extreme agitation, adrenaline-induced strength. He was either drugged or taking drugs, it’s similar to old PCP.’ he thought mind running a mile a minute.

McCoy froze as the heavily drugged male roared and kicked a biobed, patients, nurses, and doctors alike screamed and quickly moved out of the way. That’s when he saw it, the knife. Huffing a quiet sigh Leonard eased himself forward as quietly and quickly as possible.

When he was only a good five feet away McCoy stashed his hypos up his sleeves and straightened. He gave a shrill whistle gaining the attention of his new patient, the man whirled around screaming at the medical cadet. Leonard didn’t flinch, instead, he made eye contact and slowly raised his empty hands in a placating gesture.

“Easy now big fella,” he said keeping his voice calm and even. The man screamed and kicked a hoverchair out of his way; it missed McCoy by several feet but it didn’t make the security team that just arrived any less twitchy. “Easy, I just want to help. If you put the knife down we’ll get you some water,” Leonard offered hoping that the man’s thirst outweighed his need for violence.

The man seemed to relax slightly, he lowered the knife so it was by his side instead of pointed at McCoy. Leonard moved a touch closer hands still raised and visible.

“Okay now if you want that water, I need ya to sit down for me,”

The man looked at the doctor numbly before heavily sitting down on a gurney. McCoy breathed a little bit easier and tried to not focus solely on the knife that was still in his patient’s hands. He was almost standing in front of the drugged-out individual when his luck took a turn for the worst. The area had been silent, everyone was watching with bated breath, keeping silent in fear that the slightest noise might provoke the man again. They were right.

Someone stepped back, but by doing so sent medical instruments crashing to the floor. The noise was deafening. Time stood still, McCoy’s eyes widened as the man in front of him reared up like a spooked horse. Knowing he had very little time Leonard pulled the two hypos from his sleeves. Security fired their phasers, bystanders screamed and ducked for cover, McCoy called out trying to stop them. But it was too late.

The man was on the ground smoking, multiple phaser wounds covered his chest and stomach. McCoy raced forward and checked his pulse, there was none to be found. Growling he glared up at the boys in red,

“Bones!”

Kirks’s voice echoed over the revived hustle and bustle of the ER; doctors and nurses moved with renewed energy trying to reestablish some kind of order to things. Jim ran over to him but stopped short when he saw the body being lifted off the ground,

“You okay Bones?” Jim asked warily upon seeing the thunderous anger on the country doctor’s face. Tired hazel eyes met worried blue ones, “I’m-” Leonard sighed and shook his head in disappointment.

“Let’s finish getting you fixed up and discharged,”

Under normal circumstances, Jim would have groaned and moaned but he figured in this case he thought it would be best if he did as he was told. Kirk sat silently on his exam bed as Bones flittered around the room doing some unnecessary straightening as the regen unit was doing its work. Jim chewed on the inside of his cheek nervously, he wanted to talk to his best friend, to say something that would make him feel better but he just couldn’t come up with the right words. Kirk wholeheartedly blamed the painkiller he was on.

Jim sat up when he saw it, at his sudden movement and hiss of pain McCoy turned. He opened his mouth to berate the young cadet but it fell short. Leonard staggered feeling suddenly light-headed.

“Bones, you’re bleeding!” Jim gasped, Leonard followed his gaze. He was right, there on his right side was a giant blossom of red coating his uniform. Cursing under his breath he was beginning to feel it, the bloodloss, and now that his adrenaline was dissipating the pain and fatigue. “Damn he must’a knicked me,” he murmured sounding annoyed. Jim spluttered,

“We need help, why don’t you-”

McCoy held up his hand silencing his best friend mid-sentence. “No need to fuss, Jim, I got it,”

Kirk’s jaw went slack as he watched McCoy sit heavily on a stool and lift up his shirt. Jim blinked, sure he was inclined to a special male friend every once and a while. But Bones was off-limits. Only brotherly love there. Jim couldn’t help but think,

‘Damn Bones where did you hide the abs?’

“This puts a whole new spin on ‘Physician heal thyself,” he said aloud with a snicker. McCoy rolled his eyes. ‘This isn’t the worst thing I’ve had to fix,’ he thought with a slight grimace.

Leonard pulled his shirt up and held the ruined fabric in between his teeth. He leaned back and examined the bloody wound, grunting in annoyance he reached out blindly for the cleaning wipes that had been left on the tray beside Kirk’s bed.

Upon finding what he was looking for McCoy expertly cleaned away the blood only hissing at the occasional sting the alcohol made.

“Bones, are you sure you don’t want me to call a nurse or something?” Jim asked disbelief coloring his tone. McCoy curled his lip,

“No, they’re busy with half of the galaxy and their mother. I’ll be fine,”

Kirk cocked his head to the side only managing to decipher half of what his best friend said; his mouth already preoccupied with his shirt made him sound completely muffled.

The blood finally cleaned away despite more and more leaking from the open wound Leonard grabbed the portable regen unit. Flicking it on he carefully placed it on his abdomen. Sighing the doctor looked up,

“What?” he asked raising a single eyebrow at his dumbfounded speechless friend. Jim just shook his head,

“You look like you’ve done this before,” he muttered with a dry chuckle. Leonard snorted and nodded at the kid’s guess. Leonard let go of his shirt allowing it to fall and rest on the regen unit he held.

“Jim, I worked the ER in Atlanta. Things occasionally got a little hairy,”

Kirk stared at the country doctor like he had grown three heads and sprouted wings. McCoy snickered, “Boy, I’ve seen some shit in my time, ain’t no little cut is going to stop me from doin’ my job,” Leonard’s southern drawl became pronounced. So pronounced that it made McCoy wince and wrinkle his nose. Jim pressed his lips into a thin line, the appearance of McCoy’s accent meant the older man was tired. Very tired. He knew that the doctor hid his drawl almost as if he were self-conscious of it. Kirk remembered once hearing Bones admit (heavily drunk, mind you) that people tended to not take him as seriously. It may have been the twenty-third century but there were still biases.

The regen unit beeped happily and lit up green. McCoy lifted it away and examined the wound again. Grunting in approval he set the regenerator down and grabbed a thick gauze bandage, glancing up he gave a little shrug,

“Knowing my luck, I’ll end up opening it back up,” he muttered wryly. Jim snorted and shook his head, “Man you can’t say shit to me now. You’re just as bad!” he accused with a grin. McCoy rolled his eyes,

“Sorry Kid doesn’t work that way. I don’t go searchin’ for trouble,”

Jim barked out a laugh, “Bullshit!”

Leonard rolled his eyes and scowled hoping to hide the slight smile that wants to spread across his face.

Tags:

Everything: @lauraaan182, @chickadee-djarin, @cowenby2, @bluesclues-1234,@sayuri9908

WhumpTober: @theatrevicki, @ekna1307

[jordanstrophe]

ok ill send like two more before i get back to my movie: blood (i sent this one to liv/raccoon and she created a new OC and i felt particularly nefarious) ~violet

(That’s Racoon for you, I feel like I need to go all out on this one now. Well, at least stepping out of my comfort zone a bit, rather then the usual scenarios.)(Edit: WHOOPS! I got a bit carried away. Enjoy!)

CW: Kidnapping, mild stripping, Knifes, blood, cutting, restraints, torture, kind of a tribe ritual? Idk... Whumpee left as a sacrifice (or a snackrifice?)  Monster caretaker

“WAIT! PLEASE!” Whumpee begged, as two large men had a hold on each arm, pulling them through the thick green forest. Whumpee’s toes were barely skimming the dirt, they were practically being carried as they kicked, screamed and fought, but the men were having none of it. They were covered in hide, bones flowing around them from twine decorating their bodies with beautiful war paint. Whumpee would be fascinated by them if they weren't wasting any time dragging them through the forest. 

They broke out into a clearing, where there was a village made from twine, straw and hide. A massive bonfire in the center with more tribals surrounding it. All heads turned toward them, as they passed through.

“Please! Let me go! I don’t mean any harm, don’t let them take me!” Whumpee pleaded, but the eyes only lingered at them with fascination as they were taken to the main tent. There was a man sat at a large throne, decorated with bones, feathers, comforted with rich looking hides. There was a small stage in front of the throne with two long wooden poles on each side with rope dangling from each one.

Whumpee was hoisted onto the stage, the rope tightly tied around each wrists. They weren’t quite tall enough to stand comfortably, as their toes just barely grazed the floor. The man stood up, barking a language Whumpee couldn’t understand. Two tables on each side of them were filled with people who were all chattering amongst themselves, some standing and yelling at whoever the Chief was. 

“Please! I don’t know if you can understand me, but I swear, I’m just an researcher! We didn’t even know there were people here, we were just exploring and I got separated, we mean no harm!” Whumpee cried out. The room fell silent, all eyes staring them down. The Chief looked at them for the first time, their eyes burning into theirs. They raised an eyebrow, curiously looking them up and down, before walking around them in a circle.

The Chief gave them a smug smirk, before pulling out a knife that was stabbed in the side of the throne before approaching Whumpee. “Wait! Wait what are you doing!? Wait! I’m begging you, Please don't!” Whumpee cried out, as the Chief took the knife, grabbing their shirt and tearing it off with the blade, straight down the middle. 

Whumpee yelped, squeezing their eyes shut tightly, but shocked they weren’t cut. When they opened their eyes, the Chief was nowhere to be seen. They let out a breath of relief, but was short lived as they felt a sharp blade slice across their back. 

Whumpee cried out, jolting at the unexpected pain, as they struggled trying to get away, but could hardly even move with their feet barely touching the ground. Another slice, another scream, as they could hear the Chief’s deep chuckling from behind them. Ten slices total, four slices on their back, four slices along their ribs, one deep slice down each shoulder to their elbow, all Whumpee could do was cry, and pleaded, as they hung mercilessly. 

The Chief cut the bindings, as they hit the floor on their knees. They didn’t get a moment to breathe, before they were grabbed again and drug out. All eyes stared at them, but they were different this time. It wasn’t curiosity anymore, it was both pity, and excitement. 

There was a large rock overhanging a tall ledge, torches blazing a trail leading, with a wooden stake at the end. Whumpee was dumped at the end, wrists tied together with a gracious three inches of slack from the stake.  

‘'Bleed for them.” The Chief spoke from behind them.

“W-what?” Whumpee muttered, dazed. They could understand them the whole time? They could have communicated from the beginning?! “It smells blood, bleed for them, and it will come for you. Bleed for them, and save us all.” He hissed, before turning and walking away. 

"WAIT!" Whumpee screamed, before breaking into tears, blood dripping down their arm and chest to a pool at their knees. They desperately tried to break the rope binding them, but whoever made it clearly knew how to make them strong. Hours passed, the hot sun began to fade in the distance. Some of the villagers crouched down, huddled at the base of the rock, watching, waiting, but now there were none, some running off hollering in a high pitched voice into the darkness. 

It got cold fast, Whumpee was starving, dehydrated, flesh burning with pain as they awaited their fate. Something deep in the forest shifted, birds bolting off in the air as the trees swayed unnaturally.  Whumpee stared with wide eyes, something was coming... They were two entranced by the anticipation to realize whatever was coming was already there, lingering underneath the rock, it’s large, massive hand with scales and sharp claws gripped the rock behind them. Only when the rock shifted did Whumpee snap out of it, shooting a glance behind them to try and figure out what on earth what that?! 

They could barely make it out in the darkness, they only knew a weight had just come on the rock with them. All they could see was some large figure, about their size, sitting on the side of the rock. Whumpee looked back in front of them towards the forest, only to come face to face with a massive creature, it’s head was as large as the structures, it’s eyes burned and glowed in the night, horns and spikes coming off it at every angle. 

Whumpee was frozen. This couldn’t be real, this had to be some kind of night mare! Wake up... Wake up! This isn’t real! Even if Whumpee wasn’t tied to a stake, they don’t think they could even try to run, they were just frozen. Another hand slowly appeared, reaching towards them, Whumpee finally had the instinct to let out a cry, cringing their body, squeezing their eyes shut. As badly as they wanted to keep their eyes open for the mare seconds they had to live, they couldn’t watch it... They just couldn't!

They felt something shift at their wrists, after a couple of seconds of silence, Whumpee opened their eyes to realize the stake was ripped from the ground, only the bindings around their wrists were left. Whumpee instinctively jumped to their feet, staggering a couple of steps back, but before they could run, they fainted. Before collapsing the creature quickly put their hand underneath Whumpee, catching them gracefully preventing them from hitting the hard rock.  

The creature lifted Whumpee’s unconscious body in their hand, they fit perfectly in the palm of their hand, as it carefully closed its fingers around them, gently hugging their body, as the creature took off into the jungle.

>><<>><<>><<

Whumpee blinked awake, they were laying down on something soft, was it leaves? Moss? They were inside a cave, they could see the exit, as the sun was just now rising. Whumpee looked around, confused, there were random items littering the cave, hides, plastic, shiny silverware, a bike, even a whole fridge. They looked down at their body, they were bandaged... How were they bandaged? Despite being crudely done, it gave an odd feeling of relief. 

The ground trembled, as slow heavy footsteps approached, as the creature crawled into the cave. Whumpee let out a silent gasp, as they hid behind the fridge. They could hear the creature stop suddenly, it’s head creaking as it looked around. Whumpee covering their ears, cringing. They could feel the fridge move, as they glanced behind them, only to see the creature had picked it up, as was staring at them with a disappointed expression. 

Whumpee whimpered, fearfully staring up at the creature, who set the fridge down, and wrapped it’s hand around Whumpee. They cried out, trying to jump out of their grasp, but it quickly tightened its grip, but just enough to hold them in place. Before they could panic anymore, it held something up to their lips, it was a broken shell, that was filled with fresh water. The creature motioned it closer with anticipation. 

Whumpee had to admit, it looked appetizing, they were so thirsty they would take anything. They drank the water, as the creature held it for them, allowing them to drink every little drop. When they were done, the creature laid them back down in the little bed they made them, gently giving them a pat on the head with a single claw. 

Tag list: @grizzlie70  @alien-octopus

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ Thank you for reading!

(there was more planned, but it got long.)

[recollins]

hi! can you do one of reid and he has a secret girlfriend/fiance/wife (idk your choice haha) that the team doesnt know about then something happens to spencer (hospital maybe) or the team meets her by chance and everyone is surprised and start piecing together why reid declined to go out all those times and stuff? you have free reign over this drabble I know it'll turn out great anyways! thanks!!

Of course! This is so cute! Sorry, I know this took a hot minute, but I apparently don’t have the ability to write short drabbles (and of course my internet went out for like an hour when I was ready to post 🙄). I hope you don’t mind it went a little long, hopefully you enjoy this!

Pairing: Spencer x Female Reader Words: 3,531 Content: Fluff Warnings: Knife injury, stitches Masterlist

--

The tentative hand tugging on your pencil skirt was right on time. With a smile, you sat the stack of book returns on the shelf and turned to smile at your favorite visitor. As soon as she saw she had your attention, June held up the most recent book you’d recommended to her, beaming as she said excitedly,

“Zero found his mom! I was happy he was gonna live with Stanley but now he has his her too!”

“See? And you were worried it wasn’t gonna be a happy ending,” you teased the enthusiastic seven-year-old as you crouched down to her level. “Did you like it?”

June nodded enthusiastically, her blonde curls bouncing wildly with the movement. “I loved it! I would’a been so scared with all those lizards though! I don’t know how Zero and Stanley were so brave!”

“It’s not easy to be brave, but doing the right thing can show you that you’re a lot stronger than you might believe,” you told her, and to your surprise you saw uncertainty clouding her soft blue eyes.  

“Miss (Y/N), do you think I could be brave?”

You nodded and reached up giving her chin a gentle squeeze before you stood. “You already are. I mean, you walk here from school every day by yourself. That’s pretty brave, if you ask me.”

To your surprise, June dropped her eyes and gave her small shoulders a dismissive shrug. “I’m not as brave as my big brother. He can climb all the way to the top of our tree and I’m too scared to even go past the first branch.”

As you did every Wednesday, you rested a hand on June’s shoulder and led her with you over to the children’s section of the library. Instead of instantly taking her to seek out a new book for the week, you led her to the reading nook and nudged her towards one of the chairs as you sat across from her.

“You remember Dr. Reid, don’t you?” you prompted, and June’s smile flickered back to her face as she gave an eager nod. How could she not? Spencer had come by the Story Circle – a kids book club you hosted every Saturday – and had eagerly joined in on your discussion of that month’s book, The Hobbit.

Though not [as] gifted as Spencer Reid (honestly, you didn’t think anyone else really was), June was an incredibly smart little girl and read well over her normal age group. It turned out that The Hobbit was one of her favorite books, and she and Spencer had spent hours talking about it after the club had ended.

“Well, he’s an FBI agent. Remember?” June nodded again. “Do you think he’s brave?”

“He is,” she confirmed instantly, and a smile came to your face. “He’s probably the bravest person ever!”

“I think so too,” you admitted, grinning back at her. But you think your brother’s pretty brave too, huh?”

June nodded, a little slower this time, trying to figure out the point you were about to make. “But he’s not an FBI agent like Dr. Reid.”

“He’s not. But he can still be brave, because there are different kinds of braveness in the world. Dr. Reid goes out and finds bad guys, and your brother can climb trees and not get scared.” June’s brow furrowed as you added pointedly, “and you walk all the way to the library by yourself. Everyone’s brave in their own way, but Dr. Reid’s bravery isn’t any different from yours. They’re all just as important, and all just as impressive.”

June’s smile took up her whole face, and to your surprise she hopped off her chair and rushed over to hug you tight. You laughed and hugged her back as she said, “thank you Miss (Y/N). you know what?” You pulled back and raised a brow at her in question. “You’re just like Gandalf. You’re wise and you always say things that make other people feel better. Like he does with Bilbo!”

You laughed with her as you got to your feet, taking her hand to lead her towards the shelves you wanted. “So then does that make you Bilbo?”

“Uh-huh. And Dr. Reid is Thorin, ‘cause he’s really smart and clever, but he’s really nice too. And he’s a leader. And he’s probably brave enough to fight Smaug.”

“I bet you’re right,” you agreed, already looking forward to telling Spencer all about this tonight. He loves little kids, and knowing June thought about him so highly would definitely make his day. “You know, speaking of bravery and dragons… I think I know a good book for you this week.”

You paused at the end of one of the aisles and knelt down – June following your movement – and you tugged out a book you’d been waiting to recommend to her. She took your offering and studied the cover as she read out,

“The Two Princesses of Bamarre?”

“Yep. Do you remember reading Ella Enchanted last month?” June nodded slowly. “This was written by the same author. It’s about a little sister who has to be really brave and go on an adventure to save her big sister. There’s dragons, ogres, and fairies in this one.”

June’s eyes widened with every word, and as you both stood she peeked up at you. “And true love?”

That was what the two of you shared – you were both hopeless romantics.

“Would I give you a fairytale story without that?” June giggled and shook her head. You nudged her gently back towards the reading nook, knowing her mom wouldn’t be by to pick her up for another hour at least. “I’ve got to finish putting the books away, so you get started on that and see if you like it, alright?”

“Thanks Miss (Y/N)!” she said eagerly, already cracking the book open on her way. You just grinned and shook your head as you headed back to the books you’d left on the shelf. The front desk phone ringing hadn’t even caught your attention, and you were just grabbing the books again when the other librarian Amy came bustling over to you, handset held out.

“It’s Stafford Hospital asking for you,” she whispered, and instantly your stomach flipped. Why was a hospital several cities over be calling for you? Warily you took the handset and said,

“This is (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Miss (Y/L/N), this is Nurse Lesser from Stafford Hospital. We’re calling you because you’re listed as the emergency medical contact for Spencer Reid.”

You nearly dropped the phone, sucking in a sharp breath as your heart skittered to a stop. “Oh my god, is he okay?”

“I’m sorry ma’am, I’m not able to go into specifics right now, but if you’d be able to come down and speak with –“

“Yes, yes, I’m on my way,” you said quickly, already racing for the front desk. As soon as the call ended you practically threw the handset back to Amy as you grabbed your purse. “I’ve got to go, I’m so sorry. I’ll see you later!”

Amy didn’t even get a chance to respond before you were booking it to your car.

The normally fifteen minute drive to the hospital took you less than ten; you’d be sure not to ever mention how many traffic laws you’d broken to get there so fast. Not that you really cared about that, though. Your mind was in overdrive, heart stuttering painfully against your ribs, lungs refusing to let you get a full breath. All you could hear was emergency medical contact for Spencer Reid.

Heels and all, you practically sprinted through the ER parking lot, desperate to find out what had happened. You and Spencer had been dating for just about five months now, and though he’d listed you as his contact as soon as you’d made things official, this was the first call you’d ever gotten for it. You knew dating an FBI agent came with risks like this, but you really hadn’t been prepared for the instant panic and fear that came with knowing Spencer had been hurt.

Once inside, though, you had no idea where to go or what to do. Maybe you should’ve thought to ask that during the call, but you’d flown into panic hyperdrive and had been on a one-track-mind purpose of getting to your boyfriend as fast as possible.

You paused in the lobby for several moments, looking around desperately until you spotted someone that looked like a nurse.

“Excuse me!” you called, racing after him. The young man paused and looked back at you as you asked quickly, “I-I got a call. I’m an emergency contact for a patient –“

“Which patient, ma’am?” he asked, glancing down at a clipboard in his hand.

“Dr. Spencer Reid. He’s with the FBI, I don’t know – they wouldn’t tell me what’s wrong –“

“I’m sorry ma’am, he’s not one of my patients. If you want to wait in the lobby –“

“You don’t understand. I need to know – can you just please find out where he is? Spencer Reid. R-E-I-D. They just called me –“

“I’m sorry, did you say Spencer Reid?” a woman asked from behind you. As soon as you were distracted the nurse practically bolted from your side, but you were too busy studying the group of people behind you.

The woman who had spoken – a petite, beautiful blonde – was coming up to you, confused concern on her face. You recognized her instantly from Spencer’s description of his team, and for a moment you worried he’d be upset. He hadn’t wanted you to meet his coworkers just yet – and certainly not like this – but right now that didn’t matter.

“You must be JJ,” you started, not missing the blink of alarm she gave you as she nodded slowly.

“Yeah… I am. I’m sorry, who are you?”

Oh, right. That had probably been a lot creepier than you’d meant.

“No, I’m sorry. That was super weird of me. I’m (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N), Spencer’s girlfriend. He’s told me all about you guys.”

JJ and the others behind her all made noises of surprise. One of the men you recognized as Derek Morgan actually choked on his coffee as he spluttered, “I’m sorry, you’re what now?!”

Heat flooded your cheeks when you realized everyone was staring at you like you’d just sprouted a second head. Nervously you brought your hands together in front of you, fingers twisting together as you repeated a little quieter, “um, I’m Spencer’s girlfriend?”

“Spencer has a –“ a beautiful dark-haired woman scoffed, mouth hanging open as she tried to think of a way to finish that sentence. She must be Emily. “I had no idea Spencer had a girlfriend.”

“Surprise?” you offered, almost instantly cringing at how stupid that was. Thankfully, one of the older men seated behind the others gave an amused snort. Derek, Emily, and JJ all turned to stare at him as Emily asked incredulously,

“What, did you know about this, Rossi?”

“Of course not,” the man – apparently David Rossi – scoffed as he nodded at you. “But unlike you all it doesn’t surprise me that our resident genius would be dating a beautiful librarian. It doesn’t get any more Spencer Reid than that.”

Your cheeks were burning now as the others made noises of agreement. The last man to speak stepped forward and held out his hand to you.

“As I assume you already know, I’m Aaron Hotchner.”

“Spencer’s unit chief,” you confirmed, shaking his hand. “Though I never pictured it like this, it’s really great to meet you all finally.”

“It’s great to know you exist,” Derek quipped; Emily smacked his arm.

“You don’t know why Spence is here?” JJ prompted, and the surprise of meeting your boyfriend’s team flickered out the moment you remembered why you were here. At the look you gave her she said quickly, “don’t worry, he’s fine. He was cut by an UnSub we were chasing and he needed some stitches. We’re just waiting for the doctor to give us the clear to see him.”

Rossi patted the chair beside him and invited, “you’re more than welcome to sit with us, if we haven’t scared you off.”

“Of course not,” you smiled, taking him up on his offer and settling beside him. The others gathered a little closer, clearly ready to learn more about you. Derek wasted no time on jumping into the questions.

“So (Y/N), how long have you and Reid been dating?”

“Five months on the 18th,” you told him with a smile. His eyes widened in surprise and he made a noise of absolute shock.

“You’ve been datin’ for almost half a year and we didn’t know you existed?!”

“Um, surprise again?” you offered, getting a snort out of JJ this time. “I’m sorry. Spencer said he was waiting for the right time. He wanted to give us time to get comfortable with our relationship and make sure things were serious, and then things have just kept coming up. He definitely didn’t want to spring it on you like… well, exactly like it just happened…”

“He was going to tell us at the Halloween party, wasn’t he?” Emily asked you, and at the bewildered head nod you gave her she explained, “he was insistent we would all be there, and when we had to fly out on a case he was really upset. I thought it was just because he has an unnatural love for Halloween, but…”

“Wait,” JJ cut in, snapping her fingers. “When we invited him to lunch last week and he’d said he had to return a library book…”

The team around you ahh’d as they all chuckled. You looked around, still not getting their amusement, but thankfully Rossi caught on to your uncertainty.

“Reid’s been acting dodgy with us lately, and we’ve all been trying to pinpoint it. I can honestly tell you it’s a relief to know he’s in a relationship, not the mob.”

“You’re the only one that thought that,” Emily started, and from behind her, Aaron cleared his throat.

“No he wasn’t.”

The others turned to give him incredulous looks as JJ asked him, “you actually thought Spencer Reid was in the mob?”

“Hey, you and JJ thought he was in a fight club!” Rossi defended, and this time you had to snort.

“A fight club?” you laughed; Emily just offered a shrug as JJ said,

“He had bruises on his – oh.”

Ah, there was the burning in your cheeks again. The others laughed as Derek rubbed his hands together, looking around.

“Guess this means you all owe me your bets.” At the noise of protest around him, he said quickly, “I was the closest! I said he was crushin’ on someone!”

“You guys had money on his caginess?” you asked them with a bemused laugh. JJ, Rossi, and Hotch gave you apologetic smiles as Emily argued,

“That doesn’t count. Garcia wins, she said he had a secret girlfriend.”

“That’s not even fair,” Derek grumbled, shaking his head and crossing his arms irritably. “How is it the only one of us that was right is the one who isn’t even a profiler?”

Before they could go any further a voice called out, “I’m looking for Spencer Reid’s emergency contact, Miss (Y/L/N)?”

Instantly you scrambled out of your seat, rushing past the others to the Doctor peering down at you.

“Yes, that’s me. Is Spencer okay?”

“Yes ma’am. I’m happy to report he’s just fine,” he assured, and the group around you all made noises of relief. “He needed a decent amount of stitches but the blood loss was minimal and luckily there won’t be any long term damage. He’s ready for visitors, if you’d like me to take you back.”

Though you wanted to see him you didn’t feel right stepping in front of his team. They were his family and he’d known them all much longer than he’d known you. But when you looked back at them, JJ and Emily ushered you to go first.

“Go warn him that we’ve met, because as soon as we see him, he ain’t livin’ this down,” Derek assured you, giving a playful grin. With a laugh, you just gave a nod and followed the Doctor back into the patient rooms.

Spencer looked up at the sound of your heels, a huge smile spreading over his face. Though you instantly smiled back, you made a noise of distress seeing his bandaged arm. Rushing to his side, you gingerly took his arm and held it up, running your fingers lightly over the wrappings.

“Baby, are you okay?” you asked softly, looking up at him in concern. Spencer smiled and reached out, cupping your face with his free hand and brushing his thumb over your cheek in comfort.

“I’m just fine. I’m so sorry, I wanted to call and let you know what’d happened, but I left my phone in the SUV. I know the call from the hospital had to have taken you by surprise.”

“You know…” you started, giving him a smile as you leaned into his touch. “Not as much as finding your team in the waiting room did.”

He actually gasped, his mouth dropping into a shocked ‘O’ as he stared at you in mild horror. “Oh no. I – I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t even think about that. I didn’t mean to throw you to them like that –“

“Spencer it’s okay,” you laughed. “It wasn’t what we’d talked about but I liked meeting them. Although apparently they were making bets about why you kept ducking out of things with them.”

He frowned, an adorable pout coming over his face. “They do that a lot. And they give [me] a hard time for being from Vegas…”

With a laugh, you finally let go of his arm and reached up, cupping his face with both your hands and pulling him down into a kiss. He hummed against your lips, the hand on your cheek sliding into your hair to hold you to him. Your lips moved against one another softly, tongues brushing briefly before you broke apart to keep from going farther.

“I’m really glad you’re okay,” you said softly, letting your fingers slide over his face to sweep his hair back behind his ears. “Did you catch the guy that did this?”

He nodded, a hint of pride in his soft brown eyes as he gave you a smile. “I did, actually. We managed to stop him before he killed a teen, and even did it without him taking his own life. He cut into me instead of his neck. It was close.”

You knew how bad that must’ve shaken him. Spencer had told you his hardest cases were the ones he had to watch someone take their life, almost more so than the cases with kids. To hear he’d been the hero warmed you to your core, and you knew exactly what would make him even happier.

“It’s funny, I was just telling June about how brave Dr. Reid was, and you go and prove me right.”

As expected, Spencer’s face lit up with a smile at that and he sat up a little taller. “You told her I was brave?”

“I did,” you confirmed. “And it’s been decided that she’s Bilbo, I’m Gandalf, and you’re Thorin.”

“I’m Thorin?” he asked in surprise, and you gave an eager nod. “Why?”

“According to June, you’re smart, nice, and clever. She’s a pretty perceptive first grader.”

Of all the things you loved about Spencer, his genuine humility was one of his best qualities. You knew he didn’t see himself for the incredible man he truly was, and watching the soft blush on his cheeks at June’s compliment warmed your heart even further.

Before you could sweet talk your boyfriend any further, though, you heard commotion in the hallway. The rest of Spencer’s team all piled into the room, with Derek in the lead, a phone to his ear.

“Oh yeah, baby girl. I’ve got him right here. I’ll let him tell you why he kept his girlfriend from us for five months.”

Spencer’s eyes widened as Derek held out the phone; he shook his head and Derek gave a deadpan frown. When Spencer refused again, his friend stepped up and pressed the phone to his face.

“No, Morgan, I don’t – oh, uh, hey Garcia –“

You could hear the squeaking of a very upset woman on the other end and you laughed along with the team as JJ and Emily came up on either side of you.

“So, (Y/N), how does dinner with the team Saturday night sound?” Emily mused, and JJ elaborated,

“We have about six months of embarrassing Reid to make up for, and Rossi makes a mean lasagna. You in?”

“Oh, I’m definitely in,” you laughed, catching Spencer’s eye as he rambled off a desperate apology to the phone in Derek’s hand. He raised his brows to you, silently asking, is this okay?

The smile and wink you gave him assured that yes, this was better than okay. This was as close to perfect as meeting someone’s family would ever get.

[writing-of-a-british-bitch]

Blame Me- Chapter 4

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Specified gender: Female

Word Count: 11.7K

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader,

TW: canon typical violence, canon divergence, flashback of past character death (OCs), cannibalism, detailed gore, sexual innuendos, suggestion of rape, reference to past child death, torture (dismemberment), Negan being Negan, probably badly written Negan, mention of a broken ankle?

Genre: Horror ig?

Series: Blame Me

Requests: CLOSED

Masterlist

A/N: Yeah, like I warned last chapter, I got a little carried away with this chapter. Negan is so fucking hard to write, so warning you for that as well. I loved this chapter though. And, uh, a lot of trigger warnings. Enjoy!

(Y/N) sighed, looking into her bag. Her supplies were running dangerously low - only two cans and half a water bottle, not to mention the nonexistent ammo. She wouldn't be able to stay out here much longer. But paranoia crept into her, as it had done regularly since that night, and kept her in place. Trusting people was damn near impossible. Being in a group, in a community, a camp? It was terrifying. Unless she was truly desperate, and only then, would there be the smallest slither of a chance of it happening. Maybe she would be better just moving on. Staying alone. She was safer alone.

"Don't be stupid, woman, ya barely standin'." She could practically hear Daryl's voice in her ear, and her head snapped to the side just to check. But she was met with empty, open-air, and her heart sank a little bit, despite knowing he wasn't there. (Y/N) let out a huff, a mix of frustration and sadness, and looked back to the clearing in the bushes where she was watching Terminus. Goddamn it, even when he wasn't there, he was always right. She was going to get herself killed. There was a herd on the way, so it wouldn't hurt to stay a couple days right? Restock, sleep, and then get on the road again before the herd hit. They'd destroy that place anyway.

(Y/N) watched with hardened eyes as the fencing was pulled open, fixed on the men behind it. He had a smile on his face and open hands but his eyes gave him away. There was something menacing behind them. She wasn't sure she wanted to find out what that was. Just a few days.

"Hello there! My name is Gareth, I'm kind of the leader around here. Welcome to Terminus," Gareth greeted, striding forward, much quicker than (Y/N) had liked. She stepped back in response, narrowing her eyes cautiously.

"(Y/N)," She responded after a long pause. Hell, the longer she spent alone, the more she was sounding like her husband. Gareth's eyes flittered to her dirty, bloodied face; to the gun, she held in a vice-like grip; to her furrowed eyebrows; to the way she swayed lightly in exhaustion.

"Well, we're glad to have you. Before you come in, though, I need you to put your weapons on the ground. All of them. Just so we have no surprises," He replied. (Y/N) glanced down to the gun, still with the safety off and hesitated. Gareth waited patiently, much to her odd annoyance. Eventually, she gave a small nod, watching as relief flooded his features. There was something off about him. What was he hiding? She didn't trust him. Not that that meant much anymore. Down the gun went, along with the knife from her belt, still covered in walker blood, and the small handgun she kept clipped to her bag. Gareth came towards her, slowly this time, like someone approaching a scared pet. "I'm just going to pat you down now. Just our policy."

Much to (Y/N)'s relief, he kept professional as he patted along her arms, down her torso and legs and back up again. He was giving her that fake gentle smile. That only made her stiffen and the leader was quick to back off when he was done. He was trying to earn her trust. A nagging voice in the back of her head kept asking why what was he up to? (Y/N) tried to shake the suspicion as she bent down to pick her weapons back up.

"C'mon in," Gareth gestured to the gate and despite her unease, she allowed him to take her through to a small courtyard. There were a few people, maybe ten or so. Some of them were sat down on tables and little booths that were dotted around, and two people were stood next to a barbecue, where there was a blonde woman stood behind cooking. The closer they got, the stronger the smell wafting through the air did, and it made her stomach twist in a knot. She knew that smell. Why did she know that smell? The lady shot (Y/N) a warm smile as she offered her a plate of whatever it was she was cooking. But she only stared at it, a look of scepticism and partial disgust and the Terminus people exchanged a glance. Finally, the lady shrugged and handed the plate to a guy who'd come to stand behind the survivor. "You really find it hard to trust people don't you?"

"I'll be here for a day or two. I just need to rest," (Y/N) cut in sharply, readjusting the bag on her back, leaving a hand on the strap for grounding. Gareth shook his head slightly and placed his hand on his hips.

"Right this way," He breathed, growing increasingly vexed with the newcomer's dismissal. This time, she was led to what looked like a canteen, made out of an old factory (maybe? It was hard to tell), and this time she let herself sit down on a bench that had been shoved against the wall. Her bag was placed on the floor between her feet, never letting it get too far. The three pictures and a random bobby pin that she had no idea how it got there, that were folded in her back pocket were stabbing into her ass through her jeans but she didn't move. If she was going to get stolen from again, she would happily lose everything as long as she could keep those three photos. Gareth disappeared into a back room and she let her gaze slide around the room. It was barren but looked like it had been untouched by the dead. A few minutes stretched by and her knee began to bounce nervously, before he returned, holding a can of sweetcorn, top already taken off, and a glass of water. He handed it to her, and hesitantly she took it. Hell, she was starving.

(Y/N) dug in a second later, ravenous, and it would long before the can was empty. The leader was babbling on about the community and rules and all that bullshit. By god, that man could talk. She'd zoned out by now, more focused on getting fed and hydrated. She took a gulp from the glass, nearly emptying, and putting on an expression that made it seem like she was listening. Slowly, however, his words started to fade in and out, muffling and blending together. Her head felt light, and she felt like she could barely hold herself up. She felt so damn heavy. Her body fell to the side, lying on the bench. Gareth knelt down in front of her. There it was. Through her dotted vision, she could see the dark grin on his face, and a shiver ran down her spine. He'd put something in her food and water. That motherfucker.

"What the hell did-" (Y/N) started. She could hardly recognise her own voice. It was slurred and quiet, but still filled with the anger she'd hoped for. Well, if she was gonna die, he wanted her to know she was pissed about it. Gareth just stared her down, and eventually, she surrendered to the black dots. For Fuck's sake.

The faint noise of hushed chatter made (Y/N) lift her head from the floor. Shit that was a mistake. She scrunched her eyes back shut, trying to relieve her pounding headache. Slowly, she let herself open her eyes again, only to be met by the same darkness, bar a slither of light coming from under, what she assumed to be, a door. Everything fucking hurt, but she still pushed herself up, shuffling until she met a wall, to get grounding. The room couldn't have been very big, a storeroom or something? Well, at the very least, she knew she could trust her instincts. She saw something suspicious in Gareth and the motherfucker had drugged her. Asshole. The next question was, why the fuck had he drugged her? As if the people outside could read her mind, the door slammed open, flooding the room in sunlight, which made (Y/N) shut her eyes. Fuck that headache was killing her. Whoever had opened the door gripped her arm, jerking her out of the room across the rough ground and tearing her skin slightly. That was gonna sting later. She moved to fight back but found her wrists tied by course rope. How hadn't she noticed that? Probably the headache, damn it. When her eyes adjusted, they raised to glare at the person. Gareth. Of fucking course.

"Hey asshole," She quipped, giving him a sarcastic smile and he smiled, though there was no kindness in it. She heard him mumble something about being a smart ass before he lifted a bit of cloth from around her neck (when had that gotten there? Stupid drug side effects) she was tugged to her feet and shoved forward. (Y/N) had no idea where she was going, but the faces of the Terminus people read glad and... hungry? They had plenty of food in that pantry, more than (Y/n) had seen in a long time, why would they be hungry?

It wasn't long before her surroundings became gloomy and darkened as Gareth took her into another old looking warehouse. The corridor opened up to a large room, with different kinds of tools littering the walls and various tools, along with a long trough in the centre of the room. Oh fuck, oh no. Oh no no no. She'd been hunting with Daryl and Merle enough times to know exactly what this fucking meant. She was NOT going out like this, no fucking way. And definitely not without a damn fight She squirmed in his grip, launching her leg backwards to try and kick him, but Gareth managed to jump back just in time. He twisted her arm slightly in return and she released a grunt of pain, but didn't let up, turning, bending, kicking, just moving as much as she possibly could, shouting out, trying to backpedal. Anything to get away from that trough. There were two guys in the corner, bouncing on their heels and shuffling, clearly waiting for Gareth to ask them to step in.

"Stop, fucking stop," Gareth growled in her ear, pushing her forward even more, despite her struggling. She was getting closer, and closer and closer and she was running out of options. This was gonna hurt like a bitch. Better than getting eaten. With a deep breath, she threw her head back, smashing into his nose. Shit, shit, shit she was right that fucking hurt. Instinctively, he let go, swearing violently and she made a mad dash for the door. The likelihood of her actually getting anywhere, especially with tied hands and goons around every corner but hell if they thought she was gonna just lay down and let them kill her, they were wrong. She raced back down the route Gareth had just taken her, and she soon heard three sets of footsteps behind her. She managed to get outside, back to the courtyard she'd been in hours (maybe? she didn't really know how long she was out) earlier, before one of the men who'd been in the slaughter room tackled her to the floor. Well, there went another layer of her skin on the ground. Ow. Over the slight ringing in her ears (Y/N) could hear slightly panicked muttering from the small crowd in the courtyard. Gareth came over seconds later, towering over her, and she grinned at him upon seeing his bloodied nose and the drips of blood on the collar of his shirt. He gripped her shirt harshly and pulled her up and hurriedly pushed her towards the small storeroom she'd been in minutes earlier.

"What? Don't have the balls to try and kill me again?" She asked through the gag, which Gareth pulled down before shoving her down to the floor. He stood in the doorway, glaring down at her with a wild look in his eye. He crouched in front of her, and despite the fear snaking into her, she kept his gaze, smirking slightly.

"Oh, don't worry, we'll kill you. But, you see, we have some newcomers, who we've yet to break the news of how things work here. We don't need you scaring them off. You can stay here for a few days, let things calm down and then..." He trailed off and ran a finger along her cheek. (Y/N) moved her head away, sneering at him.

"And what happens if your new people don't agree with the way you run things? I mean, eating people? You're not that different from the snarlers," She asked, her voice slightly hoarse, but still full of venom. There was that flash of amusement on his face and he leant forward, right in her face. She narrowed her eyes, resisting the urge to smash her head into his nose again. That headache was still hammering behind her eyes and Jesus, it still hurt.

"If they don't agree, you can have some buddies joining you, and you can help the rest of us out," Okay that was just a weirdly cryptic way of saying they'd get eaten too. The leader was still too close for comfort, and she just looked at him, before spitting and narrowly missing his eyes. He snarled and stood up before slamming the door shut behind him and flooding the room with semi-darkness. Fantastic.

The only way (Y/N) was measuring time was the light underneath the door. It'd been around three days, and her arms had started cramping just hours after Gareth had shoved her back in that shithole. Thankfully, around halfway through day two, someone had come and untied her, only so she could eat, but her arms still felt tender. They fed her, and while most of it had expired, it was more than she'd eaten in weeks, and it made her the strongest she'd been in a while. The smell of her own vomit had made her nose numb, and honestly, she couldn't wait to get out even if it meant her becoming dinner. In the darkness and mostly silent room, she had nothing to do, other than getting lost in her thoughts. It was the only thing stopping her from going crazy.

"You're telling me that Merle got you this?" (Y/N) asked, about three years younger, looking back to an also younger Daryl. The pair were stepping through dead leaves, and moving past bushes. He looked over, moving his significantly shorter hair off his forehead.

"Ya really surprised by that?" He questioned, raising his eyebrows. He felt naked without his crossbow, but his girl was holding it tightly, he knew it was in good hands. She laughed quietly, as he led them to the makeshift target range he'd set up the day before.

"Don't really know why I'm surprised by it," She replied, moving slightly closer, and looking down at the crossbow. Her eyes were bright and full of excitement. (Y/N) had been begging her boyfriend for months to teach her to use the crossbow, or at the very least hunting. Not because she was actually particularly interested in it, but because it was such a big part of his and Merle's life. And when Daryl had learnt that, he damn near melted. Stupid, affectionate woman, she remembered him saying, despite the faint blush on his face. "Y'know my mom's been pestering me about getting you to teach her how to use this thing as soon as she found out you used a crossbow."

Daryl glanced over to her, his lips twitched upwards and shook his head. Her mom, Lily, was so sweet on him, and he wasn't quite sure why. However, it was clear that she hadn't been swayed by Merle yet. Couldn't exactly blame her though. His brother was an asshole at the best of times.

"She still movin' to South Carolina?" (Y/N) and Daryl kept walking, but he used a hand on her back to direct her more to the left. She nodded with a small grin but didn't say anything. They walked in comfortable silence, occasionally sneaking glances when the other wasn't looking before they reached their destination. There were various little targets, ranging between small empty bottles and bags full of rice or hay. Daryl took her into a small box on the floor made out of twigs so that there were bigger targets closer to her and smaller targets further away. He started explaining how to pull the string back to the latch, showing her and then letting her do it herself.

(Y/N) brought the crossbow up to rest near her shoulder, closing one eye to look down the arrow track as Daryl had instructed her.

"Merle ever show ya how to use a rifle?" Daryl inquired. He was stood right behind her, so her back was nearly pressed to his chest, and his head was hovering over her other shoulder.

"Would it be Merle if he hadn't?" (Y/N) shot back with a playful smirk and he just chuckled, reaching around and adjusting her grip on the crossbow. He placed his hands over hers, and he could already tell she'd be teasing him about it later, especially if she saw him blushing. Well, if she saw him, he could shoot back that she was blushing too. Win-win, he supposed

"Ya don't damn act like it. Y'ain't even holdin' it right," Daryl returned, but it was light and he wouldn't deny the grin on his face if she said anything. (Y/N) tightened her grip, finding comfort in his hands over hers, keeping her eye on the arrow track. "Now, ya gotta line up the bolt and the arrow track, and when ya think ya got it, ya pull the trigger."

(Y/N) couldn't deny how at home he seemed out there, in the wilderness, with his crossbow. He was content, as content as a Dixon could be at one time, and the way he hovered around her made her fight back a smile. The asshole was just adorable and he didn't realise it.

He watched as her eyebrows scrunched more in concentration, and he felt himself soften when she stuck her tongue out slightly. Fucking hell, she was gonna make his mean redneck facade crack. Not like it mattered, there wasn't anyone around.

With a deep breath, (Y/N) lined up the arrow track with one of the rice-filled bags closer to the box, and pulled the trigger. The bolt went flying out, and the string lurched forward, making her jump and Daryl let out a loud laugh at the movement. The bolt stabbed into the floor right beside the bag and she let out a huff.

"That's pretty good for a first try. I want ya to try and hit one of the bottles. Don't matter if ya miss," He said, short hair sticking to his forehead in the Georgia heat while he moved from behind her to go and retrieve the bolt. As he was getting the bolt, (Y/N) pulled the string back, so when he returned she slid the bolt along the arrow track. She stood back up, and Daryl returned to his place behind her. A few seconds later, the bolt whistled through the air, and once again narrowly missed the bottle. But she felt pride blooming in her chest. It was further away, after all! She turned to her boyfriend with an excited grin, happiness seeping from her and Daryl couldn't help but smile back at her.

They continued like this for a few hours, until (Y/N) arms started to hurt from holding the crossbow up, and they started heading back. She was trailing ahead of Daryl, back in that comfortable, and very frequent, silence. He had to admit, she was pretty damn good. Her aim wasn't bad and after some practice, she'd probably be as good as him. But the excitement she'd had even when she'd missed the targets, her grin every time she got a little bit closer, made his heart feel full. If he hadn't been certain before, he definitely was now. She was it for him. He was gonna marry her someday, even if it wasn't his thing. He was gonna be with her.

The ground-shaking below her feet and an ear-splitting explosion, as well as a faint flash of bright light under the door, knocked her to her side and pushed her from her reminiscing. What the fuck? Silence stretched for a minute before panic started, and footsteps raced past the door. (Y/N) pressed herself against the door, and a second bang went off, close enough to knock some debris into her door, and send it shooting open and slamming her back. She groaned, using the wall to stand up, but she shot behind the door when she heard the all too familiar noise of snarlers. A lone snarler stumbled past her door, and she banged her hand against the wall, just quiet enough for it to only lure the one. It paused and growled, turning into the room. (Y/N) slowly bent down and picked up the bit of debris from the floor, before stepping out and slamming the debris into the snarlers head before it had time to see her. There were more coming, the explosion would have lured them for miles and miles. She had to think fast, but with only the sharp bit of debris, that would definitely break soon, she didn't have many options. Fuck. She was gonna have to cut the snarler open. Great.

With a small shiver, and a pause much longer than she probably should have risked with the oncoming storm of snarlers, she lifted the snarlers ripped shirt and brought the debris down into its stomach. Resisting the urge to vomit (god she'd never get used to that smell), she pressed on until the debris snapped and she started pulling out guts. A disgusted noise escaped her as she started spreading the guts all over her body, along her arms and legs, and, unfortunately, her face too. (Y/N) couldn't resist a shudder as the smell got caught in her nose. Jesus, she couldn't wait to find a creek or a river already and wash this shit off. At least she could go out with the snarlers now, and maybe find a weapon, and maybe her stuff. Not that she had much worth saving. She had her pictures and right now, she was just grateful for that. After giving her lungs a much-needed breath of fresh air, she walked into the sunlight, squinting in the sun, at a snail-like pace. Blend in, please for the love of fuck, please blend in. (Y/N) turned a corner, and she couldn't stop herself from hesitated. Terminus was flooded. There was no fucking chance of her getting her stuff back. She had to get out. Gunshots were filling the air, doing nothing to deter the snarlers.

However, while the snarlers hadn't noticed her, someone from Terminus clearly had. A ginger woman surged forward towards her, knife in hand. Perfect. She immediately stretched her arm out to slash at her face, but (Y/N) managed to duck under her arm and grab it, but the woman twisted and pressed it forward. It inched closer and closer to her face, and a bit too close to her eye, and (Y/N) used the grip she had on her wrist to push it back. Apparently, their strengths were matched, since they didn't move for a second. She grunted lightly, before glancing down. While she was defending her face, this woman had left her legs undefended, and she smiled at her before kicking her knee, hard. The woman went down with a cry of pain, clutching her knee and allowing the knife to clatter to the floor and (Y/N) didn't hesitate to pick it up and stab it into the woman's temple. She let out a sigh, leaning on her thighs for a minute. Christ being locked in a tiny room for a few days and launching into the fight right after wasn't a good idea. The snarlers were getting closer, and (Y/N) plucked the gun from the woman's holster and walked forward, allowing herself to fall into the herd.

She was trying to follow the herd's direction while also looking for an exit. There was a lot of shouting and gunshots and screaming surrounding her, not to mention the groaning and growling of the snarlers, and it was getting harder and harder to decipher which direction any of it was coming from. Her eyes skimmed her surroundings. There had to be an exit somewhere. Right as she thought that, she noticed a gap in the fence, like someone, had torn through it and she started trying to move towards it, as much as she could without alerting the snarlers. Despite the loud noises surrounding her, one noise that was getting easier and easier to pick out were gunshots that were getting closer and closer and the herd getting shoved into two, like a twisted version of Moses splitting the sea. A group of maybe 12-14 people were sprinting through, moving too fast for her to really see them properly, shooting and slashing as they approached the fence. (Y/N) continued on in the herd, hoping she wouldn't get caught in their rampage. It wasn't until one of them got grabbed, a little boy, and was getting pulled forward by a snarler. Some cowboy looking guy froze in his tracks, probably his dad. But he wouldn't get there in time, she knew that. And she wasn't going to have another Anna. Not again. She rushed forward, raising her gun and shooting the snarler right between its eyes. The little boy stared up at her, fear and shock still present in his eyes and her eye softened, before the father came running up. The father pulled him away immediately and stared her down like she hadn't just saved his son's life. She narrowed her eyes and yelled "go!" and thankfully, they didn't hesitate in following her instructions. But now, the snarlers knew she wasn't one of them. She had to make a break for that gap. This would be fun.

(Y/N) felt dead on her feet. She'd been walking for days, and while she was sure it was gonna kill her eventually, every day she was closer and closer to Washington. Maybe another one or two days and she'd be there. Her supplies were running short again, not that she'd found many after Terminus. Most places had been picked clean by now. There had to be something in Washington. There had to be. And while the realist part of her knew she shouldn't get her hopes up, another part of her was really hoping that Daryl would have made his way North, and be there, with his weird attachment to his crossbow, and his much too short hair, and following behind her louder than life brother-in-law, and the fiddling of his wedding band whenever he was nervous, or angry, or even just lost in thought. She hadn't really let herself think about him much since the world had gone to shit, apart from in Terminus, and it made her heart hurt. He could be dead. He could have died months ago and she was just holding out false hope. Merle could be dead.

That only reminded her of why she hadn't let herself think of her family much. (Y/N) shook her head and focused on the woods surrounding her. There was a map tucked into the side of the worn backpack she'd found two nights ago, and there were a knife and a gun strapped around her waist. Like the rest of her resources, she was running low on bullets. Maybe ten or eleven bullets left. Knife work had become common practice unless she'd gotten caught in a tight spot, which thankfully hadn't been often. But with each day and the lack of supplies, she was getting weak again, and she knew if there was nothing in Washington, she would probably die. And it was fucking terrifying. She was just thanking whatever god, or lack of, was up there that her husband had taught her to track and to navigate the woods.

Nightfall was nearing, and (Y/N) had managed to find the ruins of an old gas station. If there'd been more choice, she would have found somewhere else. It was too similar to where she'd stayed with her group near the beginning. With Kai, her mom, Andrew... But there was nowhere else, and it was safe enough, so it would have to do. It beat sleeping in a tree again. Seriously, sleeping in trees was going to destroy her back. After clearing the gas station, and trying to barricade the doors as much as possible, she opened the latch of the room, closing it behind her, and climbed onto the roof. She placed her bag down on the roof, and hesitantly lay down, using her bag as a pillow, keeping her knife and gun close. Nowadays, as it had been further proved by Terminus, it wasn't just the dead she had to worry about. After a lot of tossing, turning, rumbling of her stomach and worrying, her body finally shut down, and she let herself sleep.

Dawn was barely breaking when she was woken by the sound of brakes squealing. Fuck. People weren't something that reassured her. Not anymore By instinct, the sleep was shaken from her body and the grogginess was non-existent as she crawled back to the latch, panic starting to rise in her chest.

"You're sure it was here you saw someone from Hilltop? Boss is coming to check it out himself," An unfamiliar, and much too loud considering how many walkers were around. The door of their vehicle was slammed shut.

" I saw 'em last night. Just the one, killed a couple dead fucks and barricaded the doors. Looked tired, sick, think they ran away from Hilltop or something," Another voice replied. Oh fuck. This guy had seen her. He had to know where she was. She was gonna have to have a mad dash for freedom. Carefully, she opened the latch, making sure to drop into a crouch when she got back into the store and tiptoed towards the backroom where the least barricaded door was, only made of a relatively flimsy. metal shelf Last night, she'd been too exhausted to barricade it properly, which now she looked back was unbelievably stupid, however it was also potentially saving her life now. The two voices continued as they got closer to the storefront, and (Y/N) used the little strength she had to push the barricade out of the way and opened the door. However in her rush to escape, she hadn't noticed the bit of broken metal jutting out of the shelf, so as she pushed her body against it, it torn through the side of her leg. Red seeped down her leg, making a small pool on the floor quickly. (Y/N), you fucking idiot.

"Fuck!" She whispered. Fucking hell that hurt! She moved to try and apply pressure but the sound of glass smashing in the front of the store made her freeze. She didn't have time to stop, she had to get out of here, even if it killed her. Something about the way these people talked alone felt off. Honestly, she wasn't sure if it wasn't just her paranoia at this point, but after Terminus and that night at the camp, she wouldn't risk it. Just as she limped outside, she heard another squeal and she could only assume another vehicle had pulled up. Her bag, her body, everything felt heavy as she stumbled forward and back into the woods. She wasn't getting far, but if she could get just far enough that she could hide, maybe she'd be okay. Knowing her luck, it wasn't damn likely. (Y/N) couldn't help but be hyper-aware of the blood trail she had to be leaving behind. She managed to get a fair distance before the pain searing up her leg stopped her, and she hid inside a bush. She didn't have any other options. She heard swearing and shouting, and some snarlers getting taken down and eventually, two men came barging out the partially open back door. One of them was holding a rifle, up and ready to shoot and the other one had a revolver. Both of them looked like the perfect example of someone who could ruin (Y/N)'s day.

They were looking around, still on guard, and it was clear they were looking for snarlers until she saw a new guy on the roof where she'd been just minutes ago and called down that she wasn't there. Well hell, they were definitely looking for her now. One hand was clutching her leg, desperately trying to stop the bleeding as much as possible so she didn't bleed out, while the other gripped her gun tightly, ready to fight if she had to. She had to bite her lip to stop her from crying out as she applied more and more pressure. It wasn't deep enough to have hit a vein, and she knew if she'd hit an artery she would already be dead and eating these fuckers, but it was deep enough to not stop bleeding with a little bit of pressure. Upon hearing that (Y/N) wasn't on the roof they cursed, and pressed further on and unluckily, nearer to her bush. Rifle guy whispered to revolver guy and revolver guy went back around the building towards where she assumed the vehicles were. Maybe he was going for the boss? She watched carefully, before letting her gaze fall back to her leg, applying more pressure and she was starting to taste something metallic in her mouth as well as she bit her lip harder. Apparently, that split second was all it took for the rifle guy to creep forward right in front of her bush. It made her think that they'd known where she was all along.

There was the end of a rifle right in her face when she looked up and she couldn't stop the alarm from spilling into her eyes as they met his. This guy had a smirk on his face, looking very accomplished. The living didn't want to give him a fucking break, did they? Knowing her chances against a rifle were disadvantaged, she stood up slowly from her hiding, wincing as she put a little pressure on her leg. The barrel followed her as she rose, even as she stumbled slightly on her injured leg. The pair stared at each other in a moment of tense silence, and she tried her hardest not to let her internal panic spread to the outside, and (Y/N) scowled at him, eyes sharp and narrowed. What she was about to do was the dumbest plan she'd ever had, but with a fucked up leg and nothing to patch her up, none of her options was looking particularly great. So, she quickly raised her gun and fired, so soon he only just reacted. The bullet skimmed his head, tearing a bit of skin from the side of it, and he tackled her, his rifle falling out of either of their reach, but not before catching her face and leaving a nick on her forehead. A cry, borderline scream, escaped her as his knee fell onto her wound, but she gritted her teeth and stretched to his belt where a knife was protruding. He pulled back, but she'd just managed to grab it and turned them around so she was straddling him awkwardly, her injured leg at an angle to avoid any pressure.

(Y/N) raised the knife to stab it down into his head, seeing an angry but smug expression on his face. She couldn't help but wonder how the fuck someone in his situation could be smug, but her question was answered by the clicking of four or five, as far as she could tell, guns.

"I'd drop that if I were you," Rifle guy smirked from underneath her, and she glared but reluctantly released the knife and let it drop. He shoved her off and she let out a grunt of pain. Shit that leg was going to get infected. Her gaze raised to look at the semi-circle of men around her, along with one woman, with dark-haired and bleached tips pulled into a bun and a deadly look in her eyes. The rifle guy stood up and picked up his rifle and joined his people. A slight glimmer in the corner of her eye in the dawn sun made her look up, and there he stood in dead centre. He clutched a barbed wire wrapped bat, a glove on the hand holding it, and she had to admire his weapon. It was pretty damn cool. Baseball bat guy was wearing a white shirt, super impractical for the apocalypse she couldn't stop herself thinking, with a leather jacket on top. His hair was dark, but greying along the sides and in his scruff. And he was grinning, and while there was no malice in it, it didn't make her feel at ease by any means. If anything, it made her squirm more. His eyes raked down her body and suddenly she felt small. He was a predator, and she was the prey. Oh fuck. He whistled, almost akin to that of a wolf whistle.

"God damn lady! If that didn't make my pants tight I don't, know what will! Adam, you should be ashamed. She nearly killed you, and she was fucking injured!" Baseball guy grinned, stepping forward swinging the bat slightly. (Y/N) didn't say a word, just glared at him and she saw entertainment dancing behind his eyes. He crouched in front of her. She was starting to get really sick of egotistical men who had a little bit of power over her crouching in front of her. Fucking condescending assholes. His eyes dragged down to her wound, and he pressed two fingers to it, making her hiss.

"Go to hell," She growled, leaning towards his face. If only to prove she wasn't intimidated despite the terror in her lungs. He let out a loud laugh. But unlike the murderers at camp or Gareth, it wasn't fake or dark. It was a genuine laugh. Somehow that worried her more.

"Is that any way to talk to your saviour?" He asked with a cockiness that made her skin crawl. Her glare deepened, and he removed his hand from her wound. He wiped his bloody hand on his jeans, before using it to grip her chin. She had to resist the urge to pull her face away. This guy was more dangerous than the other asshole men she'd met. He was calm but dangerous. Like a landmine that hasn't yet gone off. One wrong move and he'd explode. After a second her eyebrows raised in question. "If I hadn't come, you would have killed Adam, not that I could blame you," He leant forward to her ear whispering the next part "He's made moves on some of my wives before. You'd be doing me a favour. However, my loyal crew here would have had to kill you. But I sent my crew and stopped you, so you get to live. You should thank me."

With that last sentence, she was suddenly back nearly two years in front of a dim campfire, with Andrew and her mom at her side. Kai's body, wide-eyed and still bleeding, was slumped in front of her, her mom's throat was slashed and she was gurgling, trying her hardest to cry out. Andrew was beside her, the ghost of a triumphant grin on his face and a bullet between his eyes.

"Really you should be thanking us."

Baseball guy was watching her with a wide grin, as she came back to reality. She was trembling, and tears were building in the corner of her eyes. God damn it.

"Should have a stony as shit lady like you had met some fucked up people. The way I see it, you're in my debt," He heaved himself up with a deep sigh, still holding the barbed wire bat, which he placed beneath her chin, the spikes cutting and pricking her skin lightly. He clicked his tongue and his eyebrows flashed up quickly. "Hell, woman, you gotta stop giving me that look. Makes me wanna take you back home and fuck you six ways to Sunday."

It took every fibre in her body to stop her from shuddering, and she already knew that when the adrenaline ran out she would be having some form of breakdown. That would be fun

"But, we can discuss that later," He said with a wink "As I was saying, you're in my debt, and you have two ways to pay it off."

"Which are?" She ground out, pressing harder on her wound. Oh, she was definitely going to pass out from blood loss soon. She was already starting to feel woozy.

"See fellas! This is what I mean when I say I want direct! Goddamn, I can tell you are gonna fit right in!" (Y/N)'s unamused look made Baseball guy laugh heartily before continuing on "You can either join us, work for me, we break you down and you become my soldier. Maybe if I'm lucky I can convince you to become a lovely wife for me," He shot her a wink and words of rejection were already building on her tongue "Or, we kill you. Right here and now and leave you for the dead fucks."

Well. She probably should have seen that coming. Men like him wanted few things, and they usually fell along the same lines. From the way he spoke, while he was brash, vulgar and clearly larger than life, he seemed to have a vague, fucked up, set of morals. While he'd talked about fucking her, he'd never suggested forcing it upon her. But she could never be too careful. (Y/N) knew if she tried to run, she wouldn't get anywhere and they'd kill her anyway. Maybe if she went with them, they would patch her up, she'd work there for a while and make an escape. Maybe this guy was just an asshole and his community wasn't bad. From the look of his crew, not likely. Once again, she had limited options. She was getting sick of being in these situations. Baseball guy was watching her, glee in his eyes. However, he was growing impatient, and she could tell when he pushed the barbed wire slightly more into her chin, tearing into her skin, that she knew she had to give him an answer. (Y/N) wasn't stupid enough to deny she was scared. If she wasn't full of so much adrenaline, she would probably be paralysed by it. But she looked up at him, as much as she could with the barbed wire pricking her chin and met his eyes.

"I'll join you."

Being in that room felt too much like Terminus. If it hadn't been for the stitches in her leg, her brain could have tricked her into thinking she was there. It was silent, more so than Terminus. At Terminus, she could at least hear people in the courtyard and walking past the door. She could keep track of time through the sunlight under the door. Here, there was nothing. No light. No noise. Nothing. She didn't know how long she'd been there. They fed her, and at least here the food wasn't expired and once in a while (once a day maybe?) some guy in a scientist coat came in to check and change her bandages. The doctor had told her that Baseball guy was called Negan, but everyone was Negan, which made no fucking sense but she was sure it would in time, and they were in 'The Sanctuary'. Narcissistic bastard. (Y/N) had a strong suspicion that he wasn't supposed to be telling her by the hushed voice he used, but she didn't reject the information. It was the most someone had talked to her in days (hours? Who fucking knew anymore). There had been six doctors visits, so maybe six days if she was right about the time frame, until they pulled her out.

Danica was still storming ahead, but Ben had fallen back to walk beside (Y/N) and Lily, who had an arm around her daughter as she worked through the shock.

"Thank you for saving our asses back there," (Y/N) mumbled quietly and Ben looked to her with a small smile. He shrugged, and turned back to his sister, keeping a careful eye on her. She was pissed, and she got reckless when she was pissed.

"Don't worry about it. Maybe you can save my ass in the future as payback," He quipped lightly, and a small giggle escaped Lily. They were deep in the woods by now, and the dim flashlights Danica and Ben were holding were the only things stopping them from being completely blind. (Y/N) smiled at him. He seemed sweet, unlike his bitchy companion.

"Maybe," She responded faintly. Milky white eyes kept flashing in front of her, guts spilling from a stomach and she shook her head viciously to remove the image. Ben's face suddenly fell, and his eyebrows furrowed as he began running towards Danica. Lily and (Y/N) followed soon after as soon as they saw Danica holding someone at gunpoint. There were four of them, one of them stood in front, wearing a military-style uniform, holding a gun and a military-grade backpack on their back. Two of them stood in front of a little girl, no older than 6 or 7. One of them had short ginger hair with thick eyebrows, looking stony and glaring at Danica. The other kept his hand hovering near the ginger guy and the other hand in front of the kid. He had long, shoulder-length green hair that was starting to fade. (Y/N) rushed to Danica's side, narrowing her eyes at the strangers.

"Hey, hey, hey, look we don't want no trouble. Just wanna get down ta Georgia," The military one said, attempting to defuse the situation, placing the gun down on the floor.

"We have a kid for fuck's sake," The ginger one snapped and (Y/N) looked to Danica. When she didn't move to put the gun away, she put a hand on her arm to get her to lower it. Danica glared daggers at her but hesitantly lowered the gun. The little kid was looking scared, but she had these big green eyes. (Y/N) was never one for kids, she and Daryl had had that discussion before, but she was cute, and she could see herself getting attached to her.

"Hey, alright, it's okay. We just had a tough time, we're all a little on edge. I'm (Y/N) Dixon, this is my mom, Lily, and these two are Danica and Ben," (Y/N) introduced trying to give them a reassuring smile. The tension in the green-haired guy's shoulders deflated slightly and the little girl moved forward a little.

"I'm Kai Thompson," The military one smiled, picking their gun back up and shoving it in their holster. "This is Andrew and Oliver Stewart, and their daughter Anna."

Lily crouched down in front of Anna giving her a little grin, as she moved from behind her dads. She extended a hand to the little girl who took it reluctantly. Her dads were watching carefully, still not trusting her entirely.

"Heya Anna, I'm Lily," She said softly, shaking her hand gently. (Y/N) folded her arms slowly, giving the group a once over, and she noticed how Ben kept his hand over his knife.

"Where y'all headed?" Kai asked, and (Y/N) could pick out that strong Georgia drawl anywhere. It only made her think of Daryl and Merle, out in the middle of nowhere, possibly dead by now. She had to get home.

"Down to Georgia, you?" Ben replied, raising his eyebrows. (Y/N) could feel eyes burning into the back of her head and it didn't take a genius to figure out it was Danica.

"Us too. Meant to be a safe zone in Atlanta," Kai answered, finally dragging their eyes away from Danica. There was a look of budding trust in their eyes, and (Y/N) could tell that they were going to keep each other safe.

When the door creaked open, (Y/N) squinted at the artificial light that flooded the room. Oh, this was way too much like Terminus. A deep chuckle made it abundantly clear about who was standing in the doorway, despite her current lack of sight. As her eyes adapted, she saw him extending a hand to her to help her up.

"C'mon gorgeous, think you've spent enough time in this shithole. Much too disgusting for a lady like you," Negan smirked, and she glared back at him but took his hand. He helped her to her feet, catching her as she toppled slightly on her bad leg. She could tell he was resisting the urge to make a shitty joke about 'falling for him' and she was glad he didn't say it. If he had, she probably would have hit him and sealed her fate as dead.

"Where are we going?" (Y/N)'s throat felt like acid, as she limped beside him. He was leading her back through the corridors deep in the Sanctuary and upstairs, which took her much longer than she'd hoped. Despite how long it took her, Negan didn't lose his patience this and with him still clutching that damn bat, that she'd learnt he called Lucille, she had to be grateful. He was even helping her when he could. However, after being alone for so long, she hated herself for relying on someone else, especially someone like him.

"You've got a big test, beautiful. Gotta make sure you belong here. And I really hope you do, because I wanna pound into you at least once even if you won't marry me," Negan grinned and part of her wished she were still in that cage. Sure, she was convinced she was going crazy in there, but at least she was away from his uncouth comments.

"Not interested," (Y/N) shot back, almost immediately, narrowing her eyes. That only made Negan laugh again, helping her up a small set of stairs.

"Well, that's a damn shame. Never say never though, princess. I'm sure I can convince you," Did he ever stop talking? She knew he was trying to get under her skin, and unfortunately, he was succeeding.

"You've got other wives, fuck them instead," She snapped, sarcastically. Shit, her smart mouth was going to get her killed someday. Pick your damn battles (Y/N).

"Just cause I've got wives doesn't mean I can't mess around some, right darling?" He returned. That cocky grin didn't fall from his face, but there was danger hiding in his eyes. Stop pushing, stop pushing.

"Clearly we have different definitions of marriage," With her response, Negan's eyes darted to her ring finger and he chuckled humourlessly when he saw the silver band. Well, she had just shown her hand. Good fucking job.

"Married, huh? What a shame. Always the hottest ones that are taken. He still out there?" He asked, voice light with glee but she looked away, glaring and biting her tongue. To (Y/N)'s relief, he dropped the subject as they reached a huge room, once again looking a bit too similar to the empty warehouses of Terminus.

Negan removed his hand from hers and moved her to be leant against the metal railing. Below them most if not all of the Saviours were gathered, looking scared and confused, and there was a guy tied to a chair in the dead centre of the group. (Y/N) managed to pick out a small huddle of women, all wearing strappy black dresses and tall heels. His wives. The thought made her squeamish as she looked at the discomfort on their faces. All of a sudden, he slammed Lucille on the metal railing beside her, making her jump out of her skin. He placed a hand on her back, but she limped to the side, just out of his reach. She didn't want his filthy hands on her. Everyone's heads shot up, and they fell to one knew. What kind of cult-level shit was this?

"As all of you know, when we save someone new, when we get a new recruit... they have to prove their loyalty. You know what's about to happen, and you know it isn't going to be pretty. But we got a rule breaker in our midst and a new recruit, so why not kill two birds with one stone?" Negan started down the stairs just beside where (Y/N) was positioned, and she watched him cautiously. "Now, I wish I could let this slide, I wish I could ignore the rules, but this man here betrayed us. Our little AJ here decided he didn't want to spy on our friends at the Kingdom anymore and made a runner! Now, you all know that one of the things I can't stand is a traitor. We're all we have in this shitty world and we can't be turning our backs on one another! Why can't I ignore our little rule-breaker here?"

"The rules keep us alive!" Seriously, this had to be a cult. (Y/N) didn't know how much longer she could stay here. They were all fucking insane.

"That's right! We survive, we save others, we bring civilisation! Rules keep us alive," The guy in the chair, AJ, eyes were darting around, filled to the brim with terror. "And we need to show that to our newest member! So, it's time to punish our dear AJ, and time for our newest member to prove her loyalty. Arat, hand me the saw."

The woman (Y/N) had seen at the gas station the other day strutted over, handing Negan a sharp saw, with the hint of a smirk on her mouth. God, what was wrong with the people here? (Y/N) felt her blood run cold as Negan took the saw and stepped towards AJ, who was starting to panic, wriggling in his bonds. Negan looked up to her, and he stifled a laugh at how tense she was. Without any other words, Negan pulled AJ's sleeve up, and rest the saw on his arm. He wasn't. He couldn't. But she was wrong. Negan brought the saw down, slicing it into the guy's arm. AJ let out a blood-curdling scream, and (Y/N) felt her blood run cold. Her eyes were wide, and she could feel panic sinking into her lungs. There was red everywhere, dripping down his arm, onto the floor, staining Negan's shirt, his scruff, his jacket. He just kept screaming and screaming and screaming. She couldn't breathe. The sickening noise of bones snapping and seperating, of flesh tearing filled the air. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.

Eventually, the guy passed out, just as Negan yanked his dismembered arm off. (Y/N) was frozen in spot. What the fuck, what the fuck. He looked at her again grinning and used AJ's arm to wave at her. (Y/N) managed to drag her eyes away and looked around the room. The saviour's faces were all blank, no one showing any emotion apart from Negan's wives, who were crying in horror.

"Doc, take him away, fix him up. Fellas, bring it in!" The doctor who had been checking (Y/N)'s leg started untying AJ and quickly whisked him away on a stretcher that had been placed to one side. There was an all too familiar noise of a snarler behind her, and (Y/N)'s head snapped to look at the doorway Negan had to lead her through earlier, and there stood two saviours leading a snarler on a weird adapted leash. It was reaching out, teeth-gnashing, and she tried to scurry back, but her stupid leg decided she had moved too quickly. She tripped and started to fall back but was stopped by Negan once again. She hadn't heard him come back upstairs, but to be fair she was more focused on the snarler. He wrapped an arm around her waist while she tried to move away, and she thrashed slightly. She had no fucking weapon, what the fuck was he doing? She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't breathe.

"See, if you're going to be one of us, you can't be afraid to get your hands dirty, and do every little task I ask of you," Negan announced, handing AJ's arm to her. "Feed it to the dead fuck."

"You alright, princess? You look pale," Negan asked. He'd moved her to what looked like a meeting room after she'd...

(Y/N) didn't say a word. She still hadn't fully comprehended what just happened and she was just staring at the floor, silently. She couldn't reply. Even if she wanted to. Red everywhere, flesh tearing, bones cracking and creaking. Negan walked over to where she sat, placing Lucille on the table right in front of her, before he placed his hands on her shoulders, to which she'd flinched much to his satisfaction, and leant down next to her ear.

"Okay, better question. Who are you?" He whispered, and she squirmed at the feeling of his breath on her neck.

"I'm Negan."

"Hey Spencer, are Aaron and Eric back yet?" (Y/N) questioned, jogging over to the gate. They should have been back two days ago, but the storm must have stopped them and she couldn't deny how worried she'd been. Deanna had let her into Alexandria about two weeks ago, just after Negan had sent her on her task. She shouldn't be getting attached. She knew that. And she knew it would make it all hurt later, but despite how weak everyone in this place, and how little they knew of the struggles outside the walls, they were the first trustworthy people she'd met since Kai and the others. Spencer let out a heavy sigh, rolling his eyes.

"If they'd been back, do you think you wouldn't be the first to know?" He snapped, and she raised her eyebrows, daring him to keep pushing. She'd beaten his ass twice before, she would happily do it again. The way he and his brother dealt with runs was ridiculous, and they'd fought over it on more than one occasion. Deanna had nearly kicked her out the second time it got ugly.

In the short time she'd been there, she'd found herself growing close to Aaron and Eric. When she arrived, Deanna could sense something was suspicious about her. As much as the woman irritated her, (Y/N) couldn't deny her sharp wit. She'd put her in with Aaron and Eric after the latter had offered, in some weird hope that they would stop her from getting into trouble. (Y/N) had to hand it to her, apart from a few odd occasions, the couple had been keeping her out of fights, especially when she first joined the community. After so long out there, she was always on guard, and while she didn't think she'd be able to ever get rid of that, she felt safer here. From the snarlers at the very least.

After Nicholas walked over to take his shift on guard duty, Spencer shoved past her. That guy had serious issues. With a small sigh, (Y/N) turned around and walked back into her neighbourhood. She had to get back to her job. Even though she'd hated the idea of working again, of pretending that the world hadn't gone to hell, after a few days, she had started falling into a routine. Since she had much more experience out there than anyone in the whole of Alexandria (not even Eric or Aaron really had any idea what it was like despite being out there so often), she went on runs with Spencer, Nicholas and Aidan, though she knew there was something slightly fishy going on there. Half the time Aidan and Nicholas would wander off somewhere and leave her with Spencer. Spencer only came on runs sometimes, but he would share looks with the other men before they left. Part of her had been tempted to go with them, but she got an awful feeling that prying would do her little good. Especially if they started prying into her business because of it. That would get them killed. And probably her too.

Every week, she had to meet someone from The Sanctuary with information about Alexandria. He needed to know whether it was worth making a deal with them. At first, it had been every two days, and Negan had come himself, to ensure she didn't try anything. But after a few days, he started sending random Saviours, most of which she'd never seen before and extended the time between. She hated them. Every inch of her soul hated herself for ever accepting Negan's offer. She should have died that morning. That would have been better than living with the constant crawling guilt every time anyone showed her any kindness. Or the nightmares of AJ and that snarler that would haunt her every time she closed her eyes. Part of her was tempted to run away, but she knew they'd find her. Negan wouldn't let her go, now he had her unless she was very lucky. But as she'd learnt the past few years, she definitely wasn't.

When she wasn't on runs, she was helping run Alexandria, not that Deanna ever realised it. (Y/N) had learnt that suggesting was more effective than demanding. If she made it sound like it was Deanna's idea, it was more likely to get through to her. That was the only reason some of her ideas had even gotten put into place, like putting locks on houses of the elderly to lock at night in case they passed and turned in their sleep.

"(Y/N)!" A familiar voice sounded and (Y/N) turned around to see Enid jogging over. The teen was known to be extremely antisocial, and according to one of Jessie's sons, Ron, it had taken her nearly three weeks to say anything when she first joined. But for some reason, she'd gotten attached to (Y/N), and she stuck by her as much as she could. Maybe it was the fact that they both knew how much the post-apocalyptic world outside the walls sucked. Enid came to walk beside her as she started heading back to the house she shared with Aaron and Eric. God, she had to stop getting attached. They would hate her later.

"You doing okay, kiddo? I thought Pete was meant to be teaching you and Denise some medical crap?" (Y/N) questioned, shoving her hands in her pockets. Enid shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"He was, but he only wanted to teach Denise because I'm 'just a kid'" She grumbled, using sarcastic air quotations that made (Y/N) chortle. Enid gave a small smile, one that only (Y/N) really got to see.

"Well, kid, you already know how I feel about that man," The two continued walking, exchanging repetitive conversation about the pantry, Pete, Enid bitched about Ron and Sam before they reached her house. They stepped inside and collapsed onto the couch.

"Hey, I was wondering, next time you're on a run, could you try and grab some more comics? I've nearly read all mine, and Sam keeps stealing them," Enid asked, bashfully and (Y/N) smiled. The kid played adult more often than not, and it was nice seeing her actually acting like a child.

"Of course, Enid, I'll see what I can find," She answered, and Enid went to thank her when Denise came crashing through the front door, making the pair jump to their feet. Shit, walkers? An attack?

"They're back and Eric is in the infirmary, c'mon!" Denise dashed off again, and (Y/N) was hot on her heels, sprinting to the infirmary. What the hell did that idiot do now? How bad was he injured? When they reached the infirmary, (Y/N) didn't pause for even a second, and went barreling to Eric's side. Pete was hovering near his feet, but she couldn't help but notice how deathly pale her friend was.

"What did you do, you dumbass?" She demanded, but Eric could hear the pure relief in her voice, and he smiled back at her, despite the small glare on her face.

"Just took a page out of your book," He teased, but let out a groan as Pete started setting his ankle, which she was starting to guess was broken.

"Be careful, asshole," She hissed, and Pete sent her a deathly glare. Eric put a hand over hers, to reassure her. She knew it wasn't Pete's fault, but she was still winding down from the worry.

After about half an hour, Eric was moved home, with the help of Denise, Enid and (Y/N), and she hadn't moved from his side, except to get him anything he needed. Enid had left to give them some space. According to Eric, Aaron had found a new group of about 14 people, and at some point, they'd split up and half of them had found and saved him from getting eaten by snarlers. She made a mental note to thank them later. Aaron had gone with the group for their interviews. Yeah, she remembered hers. Even then she'd found Deanna pretentious. Eric was the one who noticed Aaron walking back to the house, and he laughed when (Y/N) sprinted out of the house to nearly tackle him in a hug. Aaron had to step back a few steps so he didn't fall over, and he was more than a little surprised. She didn't show affection very often, but he supposed he'd probably scared her by being out for so long. Over his shoulder, she couldn't help but notice some kid in a sheriffs hat with his dad. Hell, he looked a lot like that kid from Terminus. But she was probably imagining it.

"You can't just stay in here until my ankle heals, you need to leave, do your job, actually talk to people. Besides, Denise is bringing my crutches later," Eric stated, folding his arms. Aaron was stood behind him from where he sat on the couch, and they were ganging up on her.

"When you first got here, we didn't stay here every day while you had that gash in your leg," Aaron agreed, and (Y/N) started messing with her ring absently, narrowing her eyes.

"You barely knew me then. It's been two weeks and I know you better now," She shot back, starting to pace slightly.

"Okay, look. If you go out for at least an hour, you can come back and check on me. I can survive for an hour, as long as I have a book or something," Eric tried to reason, and (Y/N) paused, holding his gaze. Fuck, they weren't going to let this go until she went outside. It was two against one, and she wasn't going to win this one.

"Alright, fine. One hour, but then I'm coming right back," She snapped grumpily, and the men both grinned. "But let it be known, I'm not happy about this."

"Oh, believe me, we know," Aaron laughed, before kissing Eric's cheek and heading out the door. (Y/N) went to walk out but Eric caught her arm.

"I'll be fine, (Y/N). I promise," He stated and she sighed, leaning down to give him a brief hug before nodding and waking out the door after Aaron. He was stood out front, talking to a large group. Must be the new group, since she knew all the faces here by now. The kid (Y/N) had seen yesterday raised his arm, waving at her with a kind smile, and she waved back, beaming. Then it dropped and she froze, as her eyes caught with some in the small crowd. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. She had to be hallucinating. This couldn't be real

"Daryl?" She heard someone say, but it sounded like her. She couldn't move. This was it. She'd lost her mind, she'd gone crazy. She felt her eyes building with tears, as the breeze blew her hair into her face.

His crossbow, the one he'd taught her how to use so many years ago now, fell to the ground with a clatter, and suddenly he was moving, running, closer and closer until he stopped right in front of her. Her eyes darted all over his body. This felt so real. Could it be real? There was a moment of dead silence between them, where she couldn't hear the confused muttering of the group behind her. Where she couldn't see the wide grin on Aaron's face as he put the pieces together. Then suddenly, Daryl launched forward, yanking her into him so tightly she thought she felt her ribs creak.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. She wasn't crazy. He was there, he was right fucking there, holding her so tightly, a hand on the back of her head keeping her locked against him. Her fingers stabbed into the back of his vest, and she was whispering against his neck without even realising it.

"You're alive, you're alive, you're here," Over and over. She could feel him trembling and tears dripping onto her neck but she didn't care. Her Daryl was alive. Her husband was alive.

"Holy shit," Daryl choked out, and she felt like she could have cried. She never thought she'd hear that gruff, southern drawl again. She let out a teary laugh and she pulled back just enough so she could see him properly. Her hands drifted from his back to hold his cheeks, thumbs running over his cheeks, still laced with dirt and grime.

"If you haven't brushed your teeth, I'm going to kill you, Dixon," She said with a smile before she tugged him forward into a rough kiss. His hands shifted to her hips and he held on so tightly. Like she would disappear if he let go for even a second. Behind them, she could hear Aaron's voice, filled with glee, and the voice of a woman in a similar tone. Confused voices, borderline shouting, and the sound of footsteps running over. But none of it mattered.

He was alive.

TAGS: OPEN

Tags (for this series): @graniairish @fuseburner @gloomystorm @bxxbxy @browneyes528 @hoemadegrace​

(Some of the tags didn’t work last chapter for some reason I’m sorry!)

[fandom-necromancer]

Feeling from the heart

This was prompted by the wonderful @smolandangry001! I hope you enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warnings: description of past-surgery medical care)

‘Oh, would this break never end’, Gavin sighed in deep content. Nines scanned the man more lying than sitting on a bench in Chandler Park, five minutes from the precinct, eyes closed and bathing in the sun. Immediately the warm feeling in his chest re-emerged, as it did so often these days. He should really get his heat sensors checked soon, if these malfunctions continued to come up. It was one of the first warm days of spring and Gavin had hung his jacket over the backrest sitting there in his hoodie with the sleeves pushed to his elbows. ‘You would get sunburn’, Nines stated factually. Gavin laughed. ‘Yeah, I guess. But this day’s too nice to spend it behind a desk.’ ‘I will trust your assessment and agree.’ ‘Come on.’ Gavin sat up and crossed his arms. ‘Phcking winter’s finally over, you don’t freeze your balls off being outside and you finally don’t both arrive and leave work when It’s dark. That’s not doing something for you?’ ‘I don’t care about the weather. I am waterproof and can operate in arctic temperatures. I am also not dependent on an extrinsic stimulus to update my inner clock.’ He noticed Gavin’s eye roll and hesitated to abandon the conversation just yet. ‘But… I guess as you like this sort of weather more, I will decide to like it too.’

Nines had thought that to satisfy the human but instead was met with a confused stare. ‘You decide to like something?’ ‘Yes. I wasn’t programmed with aesthetic preferences. So, I decided to like certain things others around me like based on work climate efficiency, general opinion on the subject and logic.’ ‘Oh, you do? Please elaborate’, Gavin said, and Nines missed the sarcastic undertones. ‘Humans generally seem to like dry weather more than rain. But they don’t like too hot temperatures. Also snow is an exception. Logic states I don’t need to bother about the weather. As the weather mostly is a topic for small-talk, I too don’t need it to better my integration in the force.’ ‘Geez, they really hadn’t had human interaction in mind when they build you, had they?’, Gavin sighed and Nines dropped his head minutely. ‘I am a prototype for a soldier unit. They had other tests in mind. Successors could have been outfitted with a rudimentary social module to fight alongside humans if desired.’ Gavin pushed himself forwards and rested his elbows on his knees. ‘Shit, Nines. Okay, back to the weather: Why did your neutral stance suddenly change then?’ ‘Because you like it.’ ‘Oh, and that is important because…?’, he asked. Nines didn’t know what to answer at that, but was saved before his LED could settle on red long enough for the human to notice.

‘We have a new case.’ ‘What?!’ ‘Gavin, we need to move out immediately!’ ‘Wha- Nines, what the hell?’ But he was already on his feet, fetching his jacket from the bench. ‘Hostage situation at a Comerica bank, I got the address. Demands the money the bank denied him as a loan. We are the closest to the scene, but SWAT’s already on their way.’ ‘The hell? I’m not a negotiator and neither are you!’ ‘Connor’s on the way too.’ ‘Goddamnit.’ They ran towards the street outside the park gates right as their police car arrived. Nines jumped behind the wheel and barely had to wait for Gavin to enter after him. The human immediately fastened his seatbelt and grabbed for something to hold onto, because Nines’ driving style could be described as wild at best. It wasn’t reckless, as the android calculated every manoeuvre to the millisecond, but still Gavin had his reasons to normally be the one behind the wheel.

Nines put on the sirens and left the side of the road with squeaking tires. Weaving through traffic at dangerous speeds, they arrived in less than ten minutes at the bank.

They had taken their first steps towards the building, as someone shouted out to them: ‘Stop right there!’ Through the glass doors they could see into the lobby, where not one but two people stood. One of them kept watch over the civilians cowering on the floor, while the other one held one hostage at gunpoint. Nines immediately scanned the situation, then tapped Gavin on the arm. ‘That’s good. Not another step, or I’ll blow his brain out!’ Gavin tensed, but Nines just removed his own hand from his pistol. ‘No, you won’t. This gun is fake, you purchased it from a toy store.’

Gavin frowned and looked up at Nines. But apparently, the android was right, as the two cursed, threw their plastic guns away and made a run for it the exact same moment, SWAT arrived. Gavin sighed, then began to pursue them, followed close by Nines. The two wannabe-bank-robbers were fast and knew the area, turning corners on them and even gaining on them until they got to a long straight stretch of road. Nines extrapolated their paths and as soon as he saw the car, he doubled his efforts. The first managed to enter the car, but with one inhuman leap, Nines landed on the hood, causing the first one to freeze in shock and the other one to abort his plan and run. Gavin continued to run after the fleeing man, while Nines started distorting the car doors to effectively trap the man until their backup would have caught up with them.

He ran after Gavin, who was in a far better position at the moment. He would catch up, but this one was likely Gavin’s to arrest. True to it, at the end of the road, Gavin had managed to catch up to him. With one last effort of strength, he leapt forwards, gripping the man by the shoulder and jolting him around. He looked at the Detective, who saw the panic in his eyes and was ready to call it quits by twisting his arm around and making the arrest. Unfortunately this man had been a bit more precarious than his accomplice and had packed a kitchen knife to the toy gun that he produced out of seemingly nowhere. In a reaction coming from panic and mindless self-preservation, the man pushed the knife into Gavin’s chest.

Gavin let go, eyes wide in shock as he saw the handle of it sticking out of his clothes. He wondered why he didn’t feel anything, then the pain set in and made him fall to his knees in a silent, breathless scream. In the distance he heard footsteps, but it didn’t seem to matter when all his eyes could fix on was the handle at his chest. He had been stabbed. Oh shit, he had been stabbed! Suddenly there were hands on him, gently laying him down on the sidewalk. ‘Nines!’, Gavin huffed hoarse. ‘Nines, phck, it hurts, Nines. What- Phck, there’s something inside me, get it out, get it out!’ He tried to grab the handle himself, but his sweaty fingers were caught by Nines’ cold ones. ‘Nines!’, the Detective cried in panic. ‘Nines, please, take it out! I- I’m scared, I- It hurts so much.’ The android’s unmoving face stared back at him, eyes rapidly trailing his body, without doubt analysing something. Good. Nines never made an error. But with the place the knife stuck in… He lifted his head to see the handle, but the android pushed him down again. ‘Nines? Nines, I think it’s in my heart. Phck, Nines, I can feel it. That bastard stabbed me in the heart, I will- Will I die, Nines? I don’t want to die!’ The android’s eyes still scanned him, but now his face contorted and seemed to form an expression for maybe the very first time.

Gavin couldn’t really make out what happened next as his vision faded out when the pain hit hard. Nines must have lifted him up and run back to the police cars, because he found himself lying on the bench in the back of the car. ‘Gavin. Listen. Lay still, make sure the knife stays inside and don’t touch it unless necessary!’ ‘Make sure…’, Gavin slurred, practically feeling the painful outline of the knife inside of him. ‘It stays in?’ ‘Yes! It increases your chance at survival.’ The roar of the engine seemed ten times louder than normally and almost swallowed everything Nines said. It somehow felt as if it would swallow himself, too. Gavin couldn’t focus on anything long enough to sense something, but the pain remained sharp.

He distantly heard the cacophony of sirens, tires, shouts and something that might have been his name. He saw the faceless heads of people and a regular flash of lights. He was moved, he smelled the chemical stench of disinfectant and nitril gloves and somewhere in between the iron taste of blood that made it hard to breathe. Sensations overwhelmed him, let him feel weirdly out of his own body, as if the knife was the only thing keeping his consciousness connected with it. There was a single cold touch to his hand that stood out to him as if it somehow mattered the most in all of this, then everything slipped away to peaceful nothingness.

-

‘Nines! Nines, are you alright?’, Connor’s voice was detected, but was categorized as a low priority, as his systems were invested in keeping everything at bay that threatened to fry them. Nines’ stress levels had never been this high, and lesser androids would had already self-destructed. Sometimes it was good to be designed as a deviancy-proof model as it meant he could deal with it better than others. Not that Nines could rely on it, he had deviated after all. But he was still here and so were his worries. ‘Nines.’ A hand on his shoulder added to the auditory input and caused him to look up then. ‘Connor.’ ‘Are you okay?’ Nines blinked at this highly illogical question, given that his LED was blinking red ever since he could scan Gavin. ‘Obviously not. I am…’ He thought about his status, not knowing what word could describe it better. ‘I am experiencing a lot of stress at the moment, likely caused by my partner’s injury.’ ‘I know, I wanted to know what you are feeling.’ Nines didn’t answer. How could he? He was never meant to… feel. He wasn’t programmed to detect feelings neither in himself nor in others. And even if he knew his internal status and what exactly was different to normal, he didn’t know how to express it.

‘Cold’, he tried, even though that had to be a malfunction as his components were running dangerously hot, one after the other. ‘I am under a lot of stress and I… When I scanned Gavin, he had a thirty percent survival rate. By the time we arrived at the hospital, it was down to twenty-two. As he was rushed to the operation room, it had dropped to eleven point three. I can only imagine how detrimental the removal of the knife will be to his expectation. It… It would be detrimental to my efficiency if he died.’ ‘He will make it’, Connor tried. ‘Unlike machines, humans are resilient. Working up to a hundred years without maintenance, regenerating from life threatening conditions and constantly fighting against other organisms that would be detrimental to them. Gavin is… particularly resilient if you so will. You did what you could do. Now you have to wait and let the other humans save him.’ ‘The chances are slim he will survive.’ ‘Just because it is unlikely, doesn’t mean it is impossible’, Connor smiled at him. Nines looked at him and for the first time wished he knew how to smile like that. Maybe then the last thing Gavin had seen wouldn’t be the faces of strangers and machines. It tipped his stress levels even higher.

‘Nines. Nines, listen to me. You have to calm down. Otherwise I would have to shut you down right now so Gavin has a partner to get back to when he survives this!’ But Nines couldn’t calm down when he didn’t even know what was causing this. It should have been a simple analysis, a simple cause of action: Get Gavin to a hospital as soon as possible and take every action in his power to ensure his survival. Now he had to wait. He shouldn’t be this stressed. He should be fine. But something messed with his systems, some processes that took logic away from him and left him in chaos. When the offer of an interface came up, Nines took it as if it was his only salvation.

He was hurled into his “zen garden” – an empty mesh of an engine housing his avatar. Red error messages were popping up all around him, almost forming a cage around him making him fall to the ground. After a short loading sequence, Connor appeared next to him, quickly rushing to him helping him up. Only then he looked around at the error messages. ‘RA9, Nines, I told you to copy mine, this is creepy’, he muttered, then started brushing a few away, taking over Nines systems without the other android even trying to intervene. The older RK managed to quarantine some of the more destructive sequences, then loaded his own zen garden as a means of comfort.

He was quickly met with a storm, rain pressing down on them and thunder crashing over the artificial sky. ‘Hell, Nines, you really aren’t okay at all…’ He pulled Nines to the central pavilion to get out of the rain and helped him sit down. ‘Nines. You have to tell me how you feel. All of it.’ ‘I don’t want him to die!’, Nines shouted out, now that Connor’s self-analysing protocols bled through the connection and made his inner turmoil somewhat clearer. ‘I need him, and I want him to come back, I…’ He looked up at Connor, his avatar’s face far more expressive as his real body could be. He looked desperate, but also shocked at the realisation. ‘I love him…’ ‘You love him?’, Connor asked, expecting almost anything but his younger brother, who hadn’t been designed to interact with humans at all, to fall in love.

‘I… I wondered why I always felt warm around him. I thought it was a malfunction, but as temperature is irrelevant for me, I disregarded it. He made my thorium pump race whenever we were close, but we mostly get close to each other on missions, so I chalked it up to the stress. I… Now it feels as if I froze over and as if my pump beats only to sustain me with the minimum. I’m… afraid? Is that the right description?’ Connor nodded and held him close as the thunder rumbled around them. ‘It’s okay to be afraid. I wouldn’t know how I would react were Hank to almost die. I can only imagine how it feels for you. You were never really confronted with such stressors.’ ‘I want it to end. I want Gavin to come back.’ ‘He will.’ ‘How can you be so sure?’ Connor looked at him. Telling him how Gavin was an ambitious asshole that was simply too stubborn to die so easily, wouldn’t help, so he just sighed and held his brother while keeping his systems stable. ‘Experience.’

- The surgery took eight hours. Only then Connor dared to close the interface and listen as the doctor explained to Nines what they had done. The smile on the woman’s face let Nines’ stress levels sink almost as much as the message itself had: Gavin was stable and had been taken to the CCU to be observed as he woke up. Of course Nines wasn’t accepting that fact until he had seen it for himself and the doctor reluctantly send him a nurse to take him there.

As he entered the room, his pump stocked. Gavin lied there in a dimmed room, a respiratory tube still in his throat and hooked up to several monitoring machines. But his chest was rising and falling, and the heart monitor was beeping steadily. ‘You can wait here for him to wake up. He won’t be able to speak with the tube, but if everything works out, we will remove it after a few hours. Call us if you need anything.’ ‘Can I-‘ Nines felt bad for asking as he was saying it, but now he had already begun, he could as well continue. ‘Can I hold his hand?’ ‘Of course. Don’t touch his chest, but I believe it will help him a great deal waking up with it.’ She gave him an honest smile and Nines hurried over, pulling himself a chair and gripping Gavin’s hand immediately. Maybe with a bit too much pressure, but Nines couldn’t help it. Fixed on his face, guarding his vital signs, his fingers soon relaxed and moved to his wrist to monitor his pulse himself. It finally let him relax. His heart was beating. His heart was beating slowly and steadily. He was alive. His human was alive.

Warnings he had disregarded until now popped up and Nines noticed how bad his condition had been before. He would have to thank Connor later. Maybe for more than only keeping his systems up and running. He looked at Gavin’s closed eyes, then to the scar on his nose, eyes brushing past the tube in his mouth to the huge reddened stitched cut on his chest. It was strange to think it had never occurred to him before that what he had deemed malfunctions could have been social protocols his deviancy had gifted him with during his adaption to life without a purpose. He loved Gavin. It was a strange word to use, but what was it but a declaration for complex actions of his body he wasn’t able to control? He loved him. He couldn’t wait to tell him.

He had to wait half an hour – a both endless time and gone in the blink of an eye. At once, regular breathing changed to one longer inhale, then eyes slowly slid open, sluggishly rolling around taking in his surroundings. They closed again Nines felt Gavin’s hand gripping his unconsciously. The human’s brows furrowed then, and he looked at his side. He tried to speak, but the tube muffled it into incomprehensible gibberish. ‘I’m here’, Nines said anyways. ‘You are at the hospital. You were stabbed.’ He had to stop Gavin’s free hand from trailing where the knife had stuck in his chest and held it too. ‘I took you here. The doctors performed surgery right away. You are okay. You are stable, now your body just has to heal.’

Gavin pressed his head into the pillow and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. Nines didn’t know what to do and imitated what Connor had done with him a while ago. He started brushing his thumb over his knuckles and if his skin retracted, he told himself it was a malfunction of recreating the scene. ‘The nurse said the tube will be removed soon if everything is alright. I… I have to tell you something then.’ Gavin frowned at him then, but Nines tried his horrible recreation of a forced smile and the human relaxed.

Two hours later, Nines had to step back as the nurses did the check-up on Gavin, inspecting the incision for infection and removing the tube, helping him to cough without irritating his wound and giving him some water for his dried out throat. After leaving a set of clothes, they left the room and Nines moved closer again, taking Gavin’s hand without hesitation. ‘You are a goddamn lifesaver, toaster’, the human whispered hoarsely at him, but smiled afterwards. ‘Never going to let me live that down, eh?’ Nines just watched him motionless. ‘You wanted to tell me something?’ The android nodded and scanned Gavin once again. ‘I love you’, he admitted quietly. ‘You…’ ‘I loved you for a while. I only noticed now because- My systems registered malfunctions that were gone as you were in danger of dying. I… I were short of self-destructing as Connor came to help. He helped me and I realised I… I loved you.’

Gavin stared at him and Nines was awkwardly made aware that until recently they hadn’t even been real work partners, much less time they had spent as friends. Maybe- ‘Nines?’ He looked up and silently waited for Gavin to continue. ‘I can’t sit up yet, so I have you to come lean forwards.’ Confused, Nines did so, asking himself what Gavin was planning. The Detective huffed a laugh as Nines had simply leaned straight forwards, hovering over his face. He couldn’t really reach his goal from there, but he just shrugged and took what he could.

Nines recoiled slightly, as he was kissed on the point of his nose. He was still processing as Gavin giggled and had to stop with a wince, as the movement pulled at his wound. ‘You got the message?’, he whispered and coughed. ‘I…’ Nines felt the heat coming back into his chest and sensed his pump running faster. On top of it, his synthetic skin glitched and turned blue around his cheeks. ‘I think I do.’

[misterewrites]

Threads of Fate 2: Electric Boogaloo (Jason Todd X reader)

Hello everyone, E here with another story! this time it’s part 2 for the story i wrote for my good friend @hains-mae last year for her birthday! so naturally it’s her birthday again cuz that’s how they work! Red Hoodie X reader. I hope you all have an amazing week. I will be trying to write my original story and post it sometime this/next week but we’ll see what happens. Stay safe, take care of yourself, for the love of all that is holy stay inside! wear masks! PLEASE! GET THE FLIPPING VACCINE IF YOU CAN!

E out, byeeeeeee! HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAE!

Here’s both parts conveniently in one place for you (cuz tumblr hates me and my tags)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29955270/chapters/73737858

“Romeo and Juliet? You’re so cliché that troupes are rolling their eyes at you.”

I shoot him a dirty glare “Says the guy that has Pride and Prejudice in his jacket pocket. Yeah yeah” I cut him off before he begins to throw out excuses “I know you say it’s thick enough to stop bullets but you’re not fooling me. You love some classic romance.”

“You’re no Lizzy Bennet” he grumbles behind his mask.

“And you no Mr. Darcy yet I tolerate you all the same.”

“It’s for my charming personality.”

“Certainly not for your face.” I playfully throw back “Smooth, featureless and red isn’t exactly my type.”

“I’m surprise you have a type given your lack of taste in books.”

I roll my eyes “Oh great now the former crime lord is giving me crap about my tastes in book.”

He rose his hands in surrender “Hey, that was my edgy phase.”

“Was? You’re still dressing like a goon from indie action film.”

“You kidding? Goons wish they looked this good.”

“I don’t think any respectable goon would shop at the thrift store.”

“Low blow. Low blow.”

I give the costumed vigilante a sideways smile as we settle into a comfortable silence.

It’s been about two years since Red Hood decided to intrude my quiet life (well as quiet as life could be in Gotham) and we have developed this strange friendship.

Every moment he wasn’t on patrol or at a briefing (coughfamilymeetingcough) he spent here. At first, I thought it was just him checking up on me like some overburdening mother worried their child couldn’t handle a minute in the backyard but I soon realized this became some sort of haven for him, a place for him to just exist. Not quite relax and let his guard down but just to be. No appearances of brutality to keep up, no disappointed glances from his estranged father figure. Just him picking on me because he’s a jerk.

But then again so am I.

I nervously glance at the red string tied snugly around my finger. It pulled off to the side though not too much further from me as its other end was wrapped around Red’s finger.

Strings of fate mom used to call it. My power to see the threads of destiny tying two people deeply together. At first I thought it was love or something junk like that but now I’m thinking maybe it just leads you to someone you need and someone that needs you back.

Or maybe it is love, what do I know? All I know about my power is it makes walking the streets harder than it needs to be. Ever see those old pictures of cities with powerlines just in every freaking direction? The strings are at least ten times worse than that! Luckily they’re not real? Well more an abstract concept that I see and not physical and you know what don’t worry about it.

“So” Red spoke up after a moment “Hungry?”

“After you insulting my taste in books?” I gave a fake pout “Starving. Oh shoot, I forgot to go to the store.”

Red chuckled “You didn’t forget, Penguin decided to try to extort it for protection money.”

“Oh” I blush in embarrassment “Right.”

“And you fell back asleep.”

I waved him off “Sometimes you just wake up, see the news and decide it’s not worth it.”

“I never get to sleep in.” Red rose to his feet “but honestly I’ve always had trouble sleeping.”

The nightmares. He mentioned it once in an off hand comment when he asked me why I toss and turn at loud noises. Gotham just does that too you. Eventually you learn to get ready to bolt at any loud noises over 190 decibels. Fun fact, that’s the noise level of a shotgun fired by your ear or a rocket taking off.

Or Joker laughing on the roof of your apartment building. Let me tell you, nothing’s louder than that madman. Thunder sounds like cats and dogs once you hear the Joker’s manic chuckle just a few feet away from you. One time years ago and I can still feel the chills run down my back whenever I think of it.

“So are you going to order pizza or what?” I asked quizzically “Since you’re aware I don’t have any in the fridge.”

I could practically hear the sarcasm dripping in every word out of his mouth as he held a bag of groceries aloft “I was trained by Batman. I’m always prepared.”  

Batman. Whatever his relationship with the dark knight currently is, he always spoke of him with a soft, gentle voice. A quiet pride that out of everyone in the world, the Bat chose him. But with that pride was a hint of shame. Everyone knew Red Hood hadn’t exactly made it easy on the old bat and while Hoodie was changing his ways, there was still some friction between them.

I didn’t say anything though. No point. He knew where he stood with his father figure and bringing it up would just make him sully. Besides I was way too curious to know how good of a cook he was.

I marveled in an awe silence as he expertly placed the various ingredients across my messy counter. He chuckled to himself as he cleared it to make space for dinner. I could feel my cheeks burn.

Watching him was oddly mesmerizing: His movements were precise yet graceful for someone with his build. He glided across the floor effortlessly, smoothly dicing whatever he brought one moment then by the time I blinked, he was warming up the frying pan by the stove.  

Soon an incredible smell filled the air while the sizzling of meat practically had me drooling.

“Your chin.” Red motioned to my lip with a spatula. I brought up my hand and flinched at how moist it was. Okay so it was drool. Sue me! You’d be drooling too if you had to deal with waiting for whatever heavenly meal he was cooking, okay?

Desperate to change the subject, I piped up “Should be I concern how well you handle that knife?”

He gave a casual wave with said instrument  “I hold the power of destruction and creation in my hand.”

I raised an eyebrow at him.

Red coughed loudly “I’ve trained with various weapons knives included. You’d be surprised how much overlap happens between cooking and weapons handling.”

“Right. Sure. That’s a totally normal statement.”

“What about me” He gestured to himself “Is normal?”

“Fair point.” I conceded.

-----

“Am I forgiven?”

I grumbled a half answer as I tried not to let on how delicious this meal was. I don’t make the best money and let me tell you before this the fanciest thing I ever ate was some overpriced pasta from some restaurant chain.  This easily beat anything I have ever tasted except mom’s cooking but I hadn’t had that in years.

Red snorted, his voice smooth and melodic not filtered through some robotic alternation. I didn’t really had a dining room or a dinner table so we sat comfortably on my couch, tv playing some nonsense in the background as we both took in the sight of the city beyond my modest window. The lower part of his mask retracted backwards via some kind of high tech witchcraft and allowed him to eat his food without needing to show the rest of his handsome face.

I mean I think it was handsome. I assumed it was handsome given I accidentally figured out who was under the whole persona he set up for himself. I never told him that I knew though I suspect he knew that I figured it out. He was smart even if he acted like an idiot and it really was for the best. Plausible deniability. If I never asked, he never needed to answer.

“You know if you want me to cook again, you need to forgive me. Otherwise I’m not gonna waste my time anymore.” Red threatened with a tease.

I let out an exasperated groan “Fine, fine! It’s good. It’s the best food I’ve ever had! Is that what you want to hear?”

“Naturally. Though I could never compete with Alfred. He has no equal in the kitchen. Better than my brothers though. They can’t cook to save their lives. Tim practically lives on fast food.”

I stopped shoving food into my maw as an icy chill ran through my body. The comfy silence that filled my humble apartment turned tense.

One of those names I could pretend away: Tim? Alfred? Every day common names. But together? Tim AND Alfred. Everyone knew every member of the Wayne family because they were the only rich family in Gotham who didn’t want to screw everyone else over. And he brought up his brothers. That was the final nail in the coffin.

I put down my fork slowly. I could feel myself breath heavily but I refused to see him. I refused to meet his mask with nothing but my own shocked reflection to look back at me.

“I know you know who I am.” He said simply.

I could feel the syrupy urge to look at him ebbing at my resolve.

I swallowed uneasily “What now? What happens to me?”

‘Us’ I left unasked.

Silence.

“I don’t know”

I tried to calm my breathing but I could feel panic grip at me: Does this mean he’s not going to come anymore? Does this mean I have to go into witness protection? Is Batman going to scold me?!

“But I want to.”

I couldn’t help myself. I turned to him and for one of the few times in my life I was left speechless.

I was not staring at Red Hood. I found myself not looking at the smooth, featureless mask I had grown accustom to these last two years but Jason Todd.

Out of all of Bruce Wayne’s children, Jason was the one who seemed to just fall off the face of the Earth. There was a rumor he had died a few years back but those were debunked when he appeared without warning, just walking the streets of Gotham like he went on an extended vacation.

There wasn’t too many pictures of the enigmatic Mister Todd but that quick glance I had gotten forever ago did not do him justice: He was my age. His eyes were a piercing blue that I did not know could be that shade. I know it’s cliché but I felt like he was staring directly into my soul. His face was rugged, rough but still handsome. His hair was a messy jet black but there was few streaks of white that looked too natural to be dyed.

“I….didn’t see anything?” I offered helpfully, giving him a chance to put the mask on and pretend this none of this ever happened.

His nose wrinkled as he gave me a playful scoff. I could feel my heartbeat roaring in my ears.

“I’m not that ugly. Better looking than Dick.” he joked playfully.

“I dunno. Dick’s got the better ass.” I mumbled out, still too caught guard from the whole reveal.

“But I got the muscles.”

“Yes you do.” I eyed his body carefully then flushed a bright pink.

That knocked me out of my stupor.

“Are you sure you want me to know?” I whispered, unable to keep the fear out of my voice “I mean I didn’t mind pretending I didn’t know.”

“I do.”

His face soften and for a moment he didn’t look like Jason Todd, wayward son of Bruce Wayne or the Red Hood, moral gray compress of the batfam.

He just look like a regular guy who needed someone.

Evidently me it seemed.

I took a calming breath and offered my hand. He stared at me like I’m crazy but I kept it outstretched.

He took it gingerly and shook carefully, still unsure what was going on.

“Hello Jason Todd.” I beamed cheerfully “It’s nice to meet you!”

He said nothing, instead opting to smile softly.

“Nice to meet you too.”

I stared at the metaphysical string that tied us so neatly together.

I have never seen it that red before. And has it always been that thick?

I wonder what that means.

Eh, it’s probably nothing. I had other things to worry about.