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yuki-boshi · 2 months ago

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Kai no Kiseki - Act 2 Kevin Route 1 English Summary

Table of Contents

Super Ultimate Hell Onion Head Coming In Hot

Kevin rides in Rufus's car as they share information about Creil, Dingo, and how they all know each other. Rufus explains why he couldn't be involved in the events of Kuro 1, while Lapis is relieved to be back in control of her body. Kevin asks about the "new body" Lapis mentioned, and she explains that it was Rosenberg’s suggestion, incorporating Marduk technology. Rufus adds that the new body is an faithful replica of her old one but capable of growth, with updated appearance options when she matures and enhanced taste sensors.

As they travel, the group almost encounters a sandstorm but manages to avoid it and make their way to Tharbad, where they meet Swin and Nadia. Nadia and Lapis embrace, and Nadia playfully comments on Lapis’s new body, teasing her by pressing her chest into Lapis’s face.

When Lapis gets annoyed, Nadia jokes that Lapis must be going through a rebellious phase. Nadia also teases Rufus, asking if Lapis's appearance was tailored to his preferences, which he doesn’t deny, remarking that it fits well for their dynamic as Master and Student. Kevin introduces himself to Swin and the group, mentioning that he’s learned a lot about everyone from the Crossbell Police and Wazy. Nadia humorously nicknames Kevin the "Negi from Hell" based on his appearance aka "Onion Head from Hell". Negi meaning Spring Onion for people.

Later at the hotel, the group relaxes by the pool. Rufus asks Kevin about his circumstances, and Kevin is vague about his partner Ries, saying she’s similar to Lapis and is too naggy for his mission. He explains that’s why he requested help from Rufus and the others. Swin and Nadia approach Rufus and Kevin, asking them to babysit Lapis, which annoys Lapis as she insists, she's a lady, not a child.

Nadia teases that Swin just wants an excuse to ogle her in a swimsuit, which makes Nadia blush when he doesn’t deny it. Swin counters Nadia with some banter and Rufus mentions that this is his Swin’s time being on the offensive, to which Swin and Nadia laugh, saying it’s unusual for Nadia to be on the receiving end. Nadia jokes that it’s just what lovers do, and while Swin denies being on the offense, he doesn’t deny that they’re lovey-dovey.

Offscreen, the group participates in a competition before enjoying some food.

While eating, Swin mentions that Van has been asking to take pictures and do food reviews for his blog, and Nadia promises to send an orb-mail later. Meanwhile, Lapis continuously requests refills on food and drinks, much to Kevin’s shock.

As the conversation shifts back to business, the group presses Kevin for his reasons for hiring them, but he remains cryptic. They find it strange that someone as high-ranking as Kevin, a Gralsritter from the same organization as Gaius and Celis, would seek them out.

Kevin asks if Nadia and Swin could stay out of the situation for a while, suggesting they go on a date, and even offers to cover their expenses. However, Swin and Nadia suspect Kevin is trying to distance them from the mission. Rufus explains that their vow not to take lives is likely the reason, and Kevin confirms that his request involves potentially killing someone.

Rufus adds that he and Lapis are not bound by the same rules, as Lapis isn’t human, and Rufus is "basically inhuman." This angers Nadia, who stops calling Kevin by his nickname "Negi" and brings up his past as a Heretic Hunter. Swin also chimes in, saying Heretic Hunters were feared even more than the Society’s enforcers back when they were in the Garden.

Lapis asks if they’ll be staying at the current hotel, and Rufus laughs, explaining that the pool fee and the fancy meal are beyond his budget. When asked about his wealth, Rufus explains that the CID froze his international accounts after declaring him dead.

(Presumably on his arrival in Calvard and trying to use assets in Calvard. It’s never outright stated how the CID just managed to do that.)

Nadia asks why he didn’t bring any money, then realizes he spent his funds on the sporty car he drove in with Kevin and Lapis. Rufus corrects her, saying it was a rental and has already been returned. Nadia is heartbroken that they’re broke.

The next day, Nadia is still upset about staying in a run-down inn and seeks attention, while Swin tells her to deal with it. Rufus jokes that if he hadn’t rented an expensive car, they could’ve stayed at the nicer hotel, making Nadia even more upset.

As the group regains control, talking to one of the NPCs reveals to Kevin that Van and his group previously stayed at the inn, piquing Kevin’s interest as he thinks he can gather some information.

Outside, the group receives a call from Altina, who comments on how much Nadia and Swin have grown since they last met. She asks for their help with the Grim Garten, which Kevin has already heard about from Celis and Rion. Nadia, feeling lazy, doesn’t want to go, but Kevin immediately agrees to help, surprising Swin with his quick decision and annoying Nadia for not discussing it first.

Later, if the players visit the Church, one of the Sister Nuns recognizes Kevin as a traveling Priest. Kevin humbly mentions that he’s just passing through and considers doing a Central Eastern church prayer. A Bishop at the Church also recognizes Kevin and offers to assist with his “mission,” which leaves Nadia wondering what Kevin is truly investigating.

At the edge of the city, Marielle is seen taking pictures of Saara and Shaheena as they perform. Marielle doesn’t recognize Lapis in her new body and doesn’t initially recognize Rufus by voice but quickly figures out who he is. Kevin introduces himself to the group, and Marielle recalls the events of Kuro 2 and how they crossed paths with Rufus.

Nadia suggests introducing their group as a "picnic group" after Saara and Shaheena ask if Rufus and Lapis are their leaders, but Swin dismisses the idea. Kevin, however, mentions he’s just a traveling priest who happens to know of Arkride. Saara mentions that Arkride has taken good care of her and Shahina, which prompts Shahina to hint at something more. Saara scolds Shahina for making implications in front of guests, while Nadia observes smugly.

Saara offers to help, mentioning that since she's familiar with the area, anyone is free to ask her or Shahina for recommendations. In response, Kevin introduces himself as Father Kevin, a priest, and humorously suggests that Shahina could come to him for guidance with any love troubles. He explains that listening to the stories of lost souls is part of a priest’s duty. Kevin also thanks the group for helping everyone get comfortable and lowering their guards, which he says helps him do the same.

The Picnic Group thinks it's a little odd how Kevin always seems to find ways to turn situations to his advantage.

After the group leaves, talking to them again reveals that Marielle is working on a scoop about the girls, and they plan to stay in town for a week.

Visiting the bathhouse reveals some interesting lore. The bathhouse was made possible thanks to Verne and Professor Hamilton's involvement 20 years ago. Nadia asks how the desert, which was once too dry for water, could support such a facility.

The owner explains that Hamilton was a lifesaver for the region and a significant benefactor to Tharbad. After taking a bath, a conversation with the manager reveals that Arkride helped resolve the town’s water issues last year (as seen in Kuro 1), which Kevin finds intriguing. The manager also praises Van’s reputation in the area and mentions that they’re expecting rain soon. (This is important.)

At the Bracer Guild, the receptionist Jibril recognizes Kevin as a church official and asks what investigation he's conducting. She also identifies Nadia and Swin as quasi-Spriggans from their previous time in the area, mentioning it’s safe to share information since they’re acquaintances with Elaine.

Kevin happily agrees, much to the others' annoyance, as they’re getting used to how Kevin takes advantage of every situation. Jibril then recognizes Rufus but second-guesses herself.

She shares that it's unusual for there to be no rain this time of year, which further supports Kevin’s growing suspicions.

----

Grim Garten Door 3: Upon arrival, Altina mention that this Kevin's first time being in the Garten, but he says it feels familiar enough to something he's been in. (Phantasma reference but not outright stated)

After clearing, because this takes place simultaneously as the other routes, it doesn't clear and Altina will state that they will need to wait for the others to clear it.

---

4SPG: Finding Sinam

Later, the group takes on a request to find Sinam, a child who’s gone missing. Fajeel, the one who issued the request, explains that despite Sinam’s troubled past, she’s a good kid. Kevin asks if there’s anything odd about her behavior, but Fajeel only notes that Sinam sometimes disappears for about an hour, though she always returns. Nadia speculates that nothing serious can happen in such a short time.

At the bazaar, a man tries to get Kevin and Rufus into a nightclub, noting it also offers some daytime entertainment. Kevin remembers that Tharbad is known for its entertainment, including more adult activities, but since Lapis and Nadia are with them, they decline. Rufus suggests they could visit later, and Kevin silently curses the complications of traveling in a group with girls.

The group also speaks with Aliya, who they know from Kuro 2. She tells them that she saw Sinam heading towards the entertainment district. In the bazaar’s parking lot, the watchman informs them that Sinam often visits another homeless person named Nasuri. However, he warns the group that human trafficking has been an issue in the area, though efforts from the Guild and the Police have cracked down on the slave trade in recent years. They then go to a fancy hotel and speak with Bashar, who provides some historical context about slave trading, noting it was more prevalent during the Middle Ages. He adds that underground slave trading rings still exist, pointing out the Kadarth Night Society as one such group. Swin and Nadia mention that Almata had a member, Viola, linked to that society. Lapis asks how kidnappings usually occur, and Bashar explains that it's often through a chain of command, with someone being used as bait to lure others into traps.

Returning to the nightclub, the man they spoke with earlier mentions seeing a large bag loaded into a car, hinting that it could be related to Sinam’s disappearance. The group investigates the sand dunes, where they find a mafia group holding both Sinam and Nasuri.

The mafia reveals that Sinam was going to be sold for a high price. Sinam is shocked to learn that Nasuri, whom she had trusted, was in on the scheme. The group intervenes and defeats the mafia, with the men threatening to sell Lapis and Nadia as well. Once the situation is resolved, Nasuri is handed over to Fajeel.

The group faces three choices on how to handle Nasuri:

Have Fajeel help him integrate back into society,

Have him turn himself in

Have him leave Tharbad.

I picked the third option which has Kevin have Fajeel handle it. Sinam leans toward helping him, suggesting Nasuri work with her. However, Fajeel notes that Nasuri’s reputation in the Bazaar complicates things and that he will figure out an alternative.

4SPG: Phantom Sweets

Filika, a vendor at a food stall, asks the group to help her find information about a sweet she ate around 15 years ago. After gathering clues from the fancy hotel, they come across a man on the street who remembers it from when he was seven. He recalls it being an ice cream wrapped in pistachios with a lemony flavor, and that it was served at the Church. When the group visits the Church, a Sister there tells them they might be looking for a treat called Kameru Kunaafa. The Bishop also remembers the recipe, explaining that it was created by a woman named Lafi, who had served it at the Church before she passed away. Unfortunately, the Bishop admits he hasn't been able to reproduce it to the same standard, which is why it has become so scarce.

The group heads back to the run-down inn and discovers that the cook there, Hala, is a relative of Lafi and had helped make the treat many times in the past. With her expertise, she is able to recreate it, reviving the recipe for the people of Tharbad. Filika is overjoyed with the result. Hala adds that the name Kameru means "moon" in their language, symbolizing something special.

---

Later, the group visits a movie theater to watch a film featuring Nina Fenly. Kevin remarks on Nina’s acting, noting how natural her ability to embody different roles is. Lapis agrees, saying Nina is a natural talent. Rufus finds it interesting that Kevin has so much insight into her work, though Kevin insists he isn’t a fan, just noting things about her and how she feels “possessed” whenever she takes on a movie role, perfectly capturing every detail about that role. (Probably Important)

Afterward, Kevin decides to visit an informant and suggests splitting up. Swin wants to join, believing he and Nadia have the right to accompany him, but after some discussion, it’s revealed that Kevin’s contact is in an adult establishment (maybe the Night Club). This leads to Nadia, being a minor, and Lapis, who is unaware of what this means, to stay behind. Kevin and Rufus say they’ll go later.

----

Connect Event: Swin and Nadia Kevin tries to slip away from the group to meet his contact, but Swin and Nadia follow him. They end up near the entrance of a night club, where Swin is about to go inside. However, Nadia, being a minor, cannot enter, and she doesn't want Swin to go in either, insisting that he should only focus on her. Kevin suddenly appears behind them, having noticed their movements from the start. He acknowledges that they probably can't trust him just yet, considering their history—Swin and Nadia as former members of Garden and Kevin from the Church, two organizations that once clashed.

To break the tension, Kevin buys them ice cream. Nadia is surprised that Kevin knew she wanted ice cream, but Kevin explains that he noticed her staring at all the ice cream stalls earlier. Swin comments on Kevin’s keen observation skills. Lapis joins the conversation, joking that she'll let Kevin off the hook this time for trying to ditch them, as long as she gets another ice cream. Swin asks if Lapis likes ice cream that much, and Kevin assures them it's fine since it's cheap. They end up getting more ice cream and even invite Lapis to join them.

Connect Event: Rufus Kevin is taken aback when Rufus invites him to a casino for a chat. Rufus explains that he hasn’t had much of a chance to talk to Kevin, so he thought this would be a good opportunity. He also admits that he wanted to make some money by betting against Kevin. Kevin is surprised, realizing Rufus had a plan all along. Nonetheless, Kevin agrees, joking that if he wins, he’ll bankrupt Rufus.

In their first round, Kevin wins. During the game, he asks Rufus if he’s returned to Erebonia recently, knowing that Rufus has a brother, Jusis. Rufus says he hasn’t, explaining that, as the older brother, his role has become less relevant now that Jusis has grown strong on his own. Rufus then uses the cards in his hand to make an analogy, telling Kevin not to underestimate the people around him—like Nadia and Swin—because Kevin seems to be doing something suspicious by keeping them out of certain things, and they remind Rufus of Ries.

Rufus makes an emotional point, saying that relationships and bonds are not just about logical strategies. They require a leap of faith, just like his decision to befriend Lapis and the others. Kevin is surprised to hear Rufus talk this way, as it contrasts with the manipulative image he had heard about. Rufus adds that Kevin shouldn't take the bonds he's forming for granted, even if his mission is pushing someone important to him, like Ries, to the side.

Kevin, taken aback, says that the Rufus he’s talking to now doesn’t match the ruthless description he’s heard about before. Rufus responds by saying that he’s found things in his life that are truly important to him. Kevin admits that he would do anything to protect what matters to him, even if it means dirtying his hands.

Their final round ends in a draw.

----

Optional: When they return to the fancy hotel that Nadia had wanted to stay in earlier, a short conversation on the side voiced in the field, ensues where Nadia expresses her wish to stay there with Swin instead of the rundown inn they’ve been using. Kevin jokes that he could arrange a room for them, but Swin declines, knowing Kevin is just trying to push them out. Nadia continues daydreaming about a romantic dinner with Swin, and he reassures her that they’ll come back someday.

At the pool, Yun Ka-Fai randomly appears as Nadia laments not being able to swim in a nice pool. Lapis suggests they could swim at Oasis Lake instead, but Nadia insists on wanting clean water. Kevin wonders what kind of sheltered life Nadia has led since escaping the Garden and how she’ll cope with the harsh realities of adulthood.

Yun Ka-Fai playfully compliments Lapis and Nadia, asking if they plan on swimming. His flirtatious comments go over Nadia’s head, and she would wear a swimsuit in a heartbeat if she could afford to be in the pool.

Yun Ka-Fai settles into a lounge chair, watching women in the distance, which disgusts Swin slightly.

Nadia, oblivious, says she hopes for such a relaxed retirement someday. Yun Ka-Fai then muses about possibly joining the women he’s watching, while Kevin reflects on how unexpected it is to find Yun Ka-Fai in a place like this. (It’s implied that both Rufus and Kevin suspect Yun Ka-Fai is no ordinary man, though they don’t state it outright.)

Finally, at the casino, the group meets Gambler Jack and Halle, who are helping a client recover her lost mira from a cheating gambler. Kevin and the group exchange information with Jack, who refers to Rufus as a “John Doe” (“Nanashi no Gonbei” in Japanese) and is curious about their earlier activities. Nadia asks Jack to teach her how to gamble, eager to multiply her money since they’re all broke. Swin is disappointed that Nadia only wants to cheat to avoid hard work.

Kevin asks Jack to look into some information about Tharbad from 20 years ago. Jack, though slightly annoyed, agrees to help. Afterward, Nadia asks Kevin why he’s interested in something from so long ago, but Kevin reassures her that Jack and Hal are skilled at finding information.

The group heads to the Oasis outskirts, where Rufus questions the significance of events from 20 years ago. Kevin explains that even with advances in waterworks and irrigation, the oasis should never have recovered as fully as it did. He reveals that he came to investigate this very anomaly. Using the "Akashic Eye," Kevin scans the memories of Dingo Brad, who was present in the area on October 25th, 1208.

At the waterway, Kevin questions Nadia and Swin about their vow to never kill again but decides to drop the subject. The group then proceeds deeper into the area, following the trail of Dingo Brad.

Nadia reveals that Van and his friends fought Olympia here. Rufus adds that this happened 20 days before Dingo's arrival. He then asks Kevin about his main objective, expressing suspicion that while the entire country is focused on the Space Program, Kevin is investigating something far removed from it.

Kevin admits that he likes Rufus and Lapis for being rational but expresses concerns about Swin and Nadia. He hints that if they continue their journey together, they may cross a line that could damage Swin and Nadia’s relationship with Arkride and his companions, further suggesting that he might be planning to kill someone.

When they reach the end of the waterway, Kevin then activates not just one stigmata, but two, surprising everyone as he prepares to fight them to test the strength of their bonds.

What starts as a serious confrontation takes an unexpected turn when Nadia calls Kevin the "Super Ultimate Hell Negi," (Super Ultimate Hell Spring Onion Head) and Lapis jokes that it might taste great when you can smell the fragrance of the Negi when it’s cooked on a charcoal grill. Kevin, momentarily losing his composure, asks if Nadia is the queen of terrible nicknames.

During the fight, Kevin tells the group that they must fight with the intent to kill since he won’t hold back with both stigmatas activated. Swin replies that he won’t hold back either, and Nadia says she'll show them the power of love. Lapis and Rufus later comment on how Kevin's skills aren't solely dependent on the stigmata. Kevin, confident, vows to keep fighting at full strength. If Swin hits Kevin with his S-Craft, Kevin will remark on how strong Swin is, and Swin will admit that he and Nadia are lucky they didn’t face Kevin while they were still in the Garden. Nadia confidently states that it doesn’t matter because they’re going to win.

After bringing Kevin to his knees, he praises Swin and Nadia for their complementary skills, recognizing that they truly wish to uphold their vow to never kill again.

Kevin starts to refer to Rufus by his Ironblood title but corrects himself, simply calling him by name. Kevin admits that he had been curious about Rufus, having heard of him, and remarks that although Rufus isn't his main target, he’s noticed that beneath Rufus’s cold exterior lies a desire to believe in others. Kevin suggests this might be why Rufus was attracted to Lapis. Rufus laughs, saying he didn’t expect to receive therapy from the Church. He confesses that, having lived a life orchestrated by others, he now wishes to become someone others can rely on.

Nadia chimes in with a playful remark, saying that Rufus is very much different when it comes to serious matters where he would be play the generic evil villain that would “Mwuahaha” and stuff like that. Kevin has little to say to Lapis, which annoys her, as she wonders why everyone else gets praised while she doesn’t.

Kevin concludes by saying that now that he’s tested them, he believes they’re ready for what lies ahead. He assures Swin and Nadia that they don’t have to continue if they don’t want to. Nadia quickly replies that they’ll keep going since they want to know the truth, adding that she might share Kevin's embarrassing nickname with Ries and others. Kevin, shocked, asks how much Nadia knows, considering he had been careful not to mention Ries to avoid involving her. He also wonders what Nadia meant by “others.” (Maybe hinting at Estelle and others)

Kevin then activates his Akashic Eye, going back too far to an earlier date, October 5th, showing the introduction of Risette saving Van and the others. He adjusts it to October 25th at 10:43, revealing that Dingo had come to the waterway with the White Genesis (From Act 1 and Van 1) in his possession. Following instructions, Dingo presses a button near a pool of water, causing the water to vanish. The voice on the phone belongs to Professor Hamilton, who confirms that the White Genesis is functioning as expected.

As Dingo proceeds, he encounters a projection of Hamilton and takes a picture of the decaying area. Hamilton explains that the site has been in this state for 20 years and assures Dingo that taking the picture won’t alter the causal chain, comparing the chances to a 50-50 gamble.

Hamilton further reveals that the area is essentially Schrodinger’s box and hints that Dingo is starting to understand the big picture because of his Van’s connection to his assistant, Agnes. Hamilton warns Dingo not to delve too deeply into the matter due to the dangers posed by Almata and cautions him against trusting her too since because of her actions.

Hamilton explains that what they see before them is the “deception” that she had planted and that what the White Genesis is showing them now, a superimposed observational result of the original waterway as how it looked in this era if not for her meddling.

Dingo tells Hamilton that he’s been under Hamilton’s care for years and while he doesn’t know her true intentions, he knows that there isn’t a single person besides Hamilton that is worried about next year (1209) more than her. Dingo also mentions that he’s been useful as an informant before, evading Almata and aiding Van and his friends.

Hamilton instructs Dingo to return the White Genesis back in Basel and to deactivate it once he's far from the affected area. When he does, the water returns, and he wonders if the device causes a resonance and shifts reality.

Back in the present, Nadia is puzzled as to how Hamilton knew about Van before even meeting him. Swin admits he doesn’t fully understand what they saw but knows it seemed impossibly bizarre. Lapis wonders what Dingo meant by reality shifting and notes how quickly the underground waterway returned back to ‘normal’ despite its earlier collapsed state. Rufus now understands why the Septian Church is involved, realizing Kevin’s true objective. Kevin acknowledges that while it’s not fully confirmed, they’re on the right track. He also reveals that the mission was issued under the Pope's orders. Kevin then adds that he has returned to his former title of “Heretic Hunter.”

#kiseki series #trails series #summary #translation #kai no kiseki

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loveinterestcastiel · 3 years ago

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genuinely just throwing darts into the void at this point but I have serious questions about the timeline with the creation of the alma perpetua account and when jensen and misha moved in together… if anybody has anything to say about that. well. I’m here 😅

hnnnngafshdkgkflajshdhsk girl help!

#I’ve followed that account almost since the beginning #there was a post last January (2020) that hit me #‘and no end is not also/a beginning/that said I hope/we’re nearer/to a beginning/than and(typo for an?) end’#like. okay.#the one about the hunter in a picture on a pool table.#the one about the parrot.#the one seven weeks after vegascon when quarantine had kicked in.#‘I want to love you through the loudspeakers’#last pride ‘I want/to write myself/out of trouble/but I fear/I’m in too deep/instead I testify/my love for you/to anyone who will listen’#‘what am I to do/but wait for you?’#‘’loving you never/felt like falling/it had a weightlessness/it wasn’t falling at all/it was flying’#RESUMED #from this March!!#like. I feel insane.#cockles #alma truthing 😔#alma theory #cockles truthing!!

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early20sfailingplenty · 2 years ago

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It's been a while, hasn't it?💔

As I was picking up my laptop from the repair shop, I got to thinking about how @darkestamralime 's Bo is portrayed. He's dark, he's so close to canon it hurts in the best possible way, he's very true to it. You were one of the very first people who got me into House of Wax, and we had many conversations about why Bo is the way he is and you helped me to overcome my fears just under a year ago (all that time already?🥺).

Your Bo is loving, he's brutal, he's human, he's soft in a really specific way which makes my heart ache, and then I got to thinking about you and how you love Bo, and then I got to thinking about how dark the atmosphere in Ambrose is. Darkness, love, softness, brutality, violence, a man who was never taught how to love or experienced it himself... All this thinking made me get a small brainworm; this piece wrote itself in my head on the way home. Finally got a chance to sit down and write it out!

I tried to pay homage to your Bo with my portrayal here; it's quite unlike how I usually write Bo so I hope you like it and you can connect with it!💖🫂(and if it doesn't satisfy the Bo cravings, then let me know and I'll happily write you something else!!!)

TW; canonical darkness (Bo's a hunter, I don't shy away), different portrayal to how I usually write Bo, violent imagery, child abuse mentions (canon compliant), talks of bodies as artwork & something to be proud of, anti-parental themes (canon compliant).

Word count: 993.

GN!reader, no coded language, "you" used, no "Y/N".

Dark footsteps overhead.

The steps are slow, measured, careful not to scuff the floorboards or press down too hard. Everyone sleeps lightly in this house, too used from years of hyper vigilance to be able to relax in their environment.

A childhood spent entirely on eggshells, corners potentially full of people waiting to bring them harm, has taught the now adults that they are never safe.

Especially when they dare to think they are.

The steps are rhythmic.

Heel, toe, heel, toe, a tiny pause between each movement. Emphasis on the toes, where most of the weight-bearing is safer. Lighter. He is not naturally a light footed man, but when he hunts, he does his best to mimic Vincent; the more dangerous of the twins and the deadliest Sinclair.

He moves cautiously.

Not hesitation.

Care. Planning.

Hunting.

You picture him then, head moving side to side, icy blues narrowed and a sinister grin on his face, an enjoyer of what he does. He thrives in the symphony of destruction he and his brothers have always worked so hard to compose, the screams of their victims serves as the welcomed background music to the work they carry on in the name of their dearly departed momma.

Her death was the best thing she ever did for them, and they thank her for it every day.

As he hunts for you, you track him. Ears straining against the still of the night, a ringing in your ears to accompany your pulse.

Uncomfortable. Unsettling.

His.

You track him across the living room, lingering by the pool table to finish off the beer cans he and his brothers cracked open that evening. Waste not, want not.

Creaking on the stairs. Coming up. One step at a time. He's not as quiet as he thinks he is; you prefer that to the way Vincent moves. Like a ghost. Only know he's there if he wants you to. Most of his victims die with the flash of a blade which looks more like lightning; dead are they before they hit the ground. Dead before they could register what killed them.

You picture wrists hanging gracefully by his sides, thumbs stroking along seams held together by sheer force of will. Much like the man who wears them. Without you and his brothers, he would unravel, much like those trousers. Coming apart at the stitches to look at himself, to really look.

Silence.

Your heart pounding in your head, fingers gripping your pillow tight as you lay in the dark, eyes wide open but not seeing anything. Too dark. He is coming. But you are unafraid.

You're grinning.

He is the hunter, you are the hunted, but you're both after the same thing. The same person. The same moment. Time has passed and roles reverse sometimes, but you are each other's constant and without each other, nothing would ever be the same. You arrived here on an accident, spared purely by chance, and it would take an act of the devil to tear you away from his side.

Not an act of god - there's nothing holy about this place. No one's going up. No one's going down, either.

Ambrose is a purgatory for the living as much as it is a graveyard for the dead. A museum of all those lives snuffed out years before their time, a collection of people who committed no crime quite like being in the wrong place at the wrong time, unknowing of what was to come until it already had.

The bedroom door opens and an imposing figure, darker than the pitch which surrounds you, steps into the room. You are unafraid, warmth building up in your chest as the figure draws ever closer, bending at the waist to toe off bloodstained boots and shirk off trousers, a shirt, leaving him in dark blue boxers.

Bare to you now is his skin and his heart alike.

Not a hunter.

Not a monster.

A man.

A show of trust is the way you deliberately stretch, nice and slow, and turn your back on him, letting him get comfortable in the space you leave behind. Your body heat protecting him from the chill of the night.

Arms wind around you like a boa constrictor, plush lips press to the back of your head, the nape of your neck, your shoulder, nosing clothes out of the way to reach more of you. Craving satiated, hunting turns to resting and he rests his head on the pillow, your hair tickling his face. He hums contentedly, burrows into your back as you shuffle across to meet him in the middle. Meet him where he is.

You reach for him and slide your fingers in between his, squeezing, squeezing, don't let me go. Please, please stay as much as I'm here, I'm here, it's okay. You tell him you want him there, you need him, without saying a word, and he hears you in your silences. Says it back in the way you feel him smile into the dark, his chest aching in that way only you can induce, crinkles up his nose to ward off the tickle, and he closes his eyes. Grants himself rest in the town which killed him long ago; all that is left now is for his body to catch up.

Or so he thinks. You disagree. He doesn't argue. The very limited world he knew when his parents were alive took him away from himself and he's never quite bothered to take him back.

One day, you'll show him. One day, he'll see.

Until that day, he lets sleep make his body heavy beside you, your bodies tucked so tightly together that not even a sheet of paper could get between you. He keeps his eyes closed, sinking, falling, lost and alone until Morpheus reaches inside him and once more guides him to your side, for nowhere can you go where Bo won't follow you.

#bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #bo sinclair imagine #house of wax #house of wax x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher x reader #house of wax 2005 #big sis bug🔪🖤

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talesfrommedinastation · 9 months ago

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Oh man, @eyecandyeoz got me when I'm cooking in the kitchen! I've got even more one-shots from Tales from Medina Station happening soon! But let's start from the beginning and work our way back (all are The Bad Batch and/or The Expanse):

Far Past the Ring:

The forested planet was small, even by outer rim standards.

According to the scans on the Marauder, outside of a handful of native non sentient animals, there were no others on the small, forested planet. It was a perfect hiding spot outlet for Hunter, Tech, Wrecker, and Omega.

"What's this place called?" asked Wrecker, wrestling Gonky into yet another lifting session.

"Station 47, I believe," Tech replied, steering them towards a landing spot in the middle of a field, "It's been an abandoned outpost by the Republic for quite some time. There is not even a presence of sentient life forms here."

2. A Conversation in the Sick Bay:

The room was unlike any sick bay that Crosshair had been in before. Unlike the cold, sterile rooms of the Empire's hospitals, the hospital room on Medina Station was designed to be a calm and peaceful environment. The clone's room was filled with soft lighting, the walls painted a gentle blue, almost as if he was in the deep end of a pool. Black and white pictures of engineering layouts of Medina Station itself were framed next to each other on the wall.

3. The Fairest in the Galaxy, or Echo the Disney Princess (this one I'm cheating, and just putting the Magic Mirror's rhyme, because it's just that insane):

“He was maimed and turned into a wreck

Then rescued by some guy named Tech

I afraid to tell your majesty

Echo, CT-1409, is more fair then thee.”

4. Mi Omega:

Sjael was unusual, in the fact that she enjoyed sitting in the examining room of a doctor’s office. Having grown up in her father’s clinic, she always associated the sterile environment with the end of waiting after a long day of school, her bespectacled father coming in, and giving her a series of slaps on the back, (as Dr. Drummer was many things, but a hugger, he was not) before taking her and her sister home.

But this time, when the door opened in Sjael’s examining room on Medina Station, a different Dr Drummer appeared.

5. Tenye Fo Me, Teki:

Tech looked over to see Wrecker fiddling with the gun deck, again. Normally, he’d have some strong words to tell his brother to be careful with the Marauder , but his mind was elsewhere today.

As it usually had been since they arrived on Station 47.

He picked up his backpack, checked his guns, and began to walk off into the woods. Omega and Hunter were out hiking in the woods, no doubt trying to get a new signal and see if they could contact Echo.

6. Kom Wanya Xom:

It was a typical Friday on Medina Station for Dr. Sjael Drummer. After finishing up the latest creation of the newest sucrose strain, Sjael quickly made sure that the processes had completed before sterilizing her lab equipment, turning off the fume hoods, and wiping down the tables.

Once she had stopped cleaning, the engineer waved goodbye to her colleagues, went to her locker, and changed from her lab coat to her long blue vest, which hung over her black shirt and leggings. She then wrapped the drapes of the vest around her torso, to make sure none of it would get caught in the spokes of her bike.

7. Good Enough:

Hunter and Tech had agreed, while at the Marauder , to discuss a new possibility of going to the Ring Gate. After weeks of talking about her new home, Sjael had convinced everyone, with the exception of Hunter, that Medina Station–the planet sized space station within a place called the Ring Gate–would protect them from the Empire’s reach.

The walk over to the Idunn, Sjael’s house sized gunship, was quick and quiet, with hunter being especially silent. Tech paid him no mind–he was already thinking about how to potentially get to the station if Sjael’s ship did not have hyperdrive.

8. Into the Techiverse!: (This one's a little funny, as two of the first segments were generously written by two of the OCs owners, @ilikemymendarkandfictional and @moosethren, both of whom are talented writers as well, count this as a tag. I will put my own in as a result below)

Tech knew multiple things, but there were two on his mind today.

The first was trying to better understand the new technology available to him in this new universe, that of the Sol system, including that of the blue-tinged alien technology, the Protomolecule.

The second, was to understand how the coffee maker in the main systems office of Medina Station worked.

9. Shoxa mi dem Setara:

It was a quiet night on the Marauder, on Station 47. It had been a week since the remains of Clone Force 99 had landed on the remote planet, and the quiet of the forested planet had been a welcome distraction for everyone. This was especially so for Tech, who was sitting in front of the camped Marauder, looking at his data pad, chewing on a ration bar. Omega, Hunter, and Wrecker were inside of the ship, asleep already.

Tech, meanwhile, was struggling. After all, it was quiet moments like these where his mind would wander. He wondered where Echo was with Rex, sometimes, and other times, thought about Crosshair, and what he was doing with the Empire.

I like big projects, and I can not lie. Tagging y'all if you want to join in: @wrenkenstein @supremechancellorrex @perfectlywingedcrusade @techs-stitches @isthereanechoinhere96 @sunkissedclones @sued134 @that-salmonberry-punk

Creator Self-Promotion

Rules: post the first lines of your last 10 fics you posted. If you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics.

"But K, I don't write but I still create can I still play?"

Post your last 10 pieces and give us a play by play. What was the inspiration? Any fun facts you can share with us?

Anyway let's get on with it

1. Fishing for Compliments - Merman!Crosshair x F!Reader

A sigh passed the young woman’s lips as the sun began to disappear beneath the waves. The waves rocked her quaint vessel as if it were a mother soothing her child. Her meal as well as a plate of identical food remained untouched as she kept her gaze to the depths. Every ripple of its surface a reminder of the mounting minutes that her company kept her waiting.

2. Drop Me a Line - Wrecker x F!Reader

The young woman stifled a yawn as she continued to work the mass of dough to her standards to be plopped into pans to bake. She continued working the dough sparing glances to the chrono on the wall as the sky outside began to lighten with the sunrise. Her pulse spiked when the chrono was checked again. She abandoned the lump of dough as she snatched up a pastry box. The bell chiming as the door opened and closed.

3. Budding Romance - Rex x F!Reader

“And you’re sure you’ll have them there.”

“A bit of faith would be nice, Anakin.”

4. Skin in the Game - Wrecker x OC (Rina) (18+ Please view responsibly)

Wrecker was on the hunt. Thankfully the Marauder held only a few spaces to hide away as he searched the ship. His target tucked away by the sensors. Vibroblade twirling between his fingers while his idle gaze stared at the screen. The demolitions expert took a breath, hoping to find answers.

5. Hair Support - Tup x Reader

The days of the Clone Wars tended to drag on in between assignments. Thankfully, the Republic saw it fit to dispatch your research team with a clone legion escort to ensure the lush jungle planet would not eat you and your colleagues alive. It was in the sweltering heat of the afternoon that one of your study binges was interrupted. You shook your head knowing who dared tread into your tent.

6. Interrogations - Echo x F!Reader (18+ Please view responsibly)

The former arc trooper sighed. Another fruitless attempt at slipping free of his bonds. The chair he was bound to chilled any amount of exposed skin. The room kept dark to prevent him from gathering his bearings. He bided his time, waiting for the tell-tale clicking of his keeper. It was a whisper at first but grew louder as the automatic doors parted.

7. Personal Tastes - Hunter x F!Reader

Strands of meat sizzled and spat as she flipped the tangled mass. Her work distracting from the pair of eyes watching you from the doorway. Her culinary tasks from the staccato chops of a knife to peppers to the accented clink of a mortar and pestle offered a calming tune.

8. Just This Once, Everyone Lives - Rex x Reader

Your bottom lip remained captured between your teeth as the speeder came to a stop. The building looming over the city streets twinkled in the night. A beacon for personnel to gather while dressed to the nines. A hand curled around yours, smoothing over your knuckles.

9. Keep Away - UniversityAU Wrecker x Reader

You filed out with your fellow undergrads as your last class for the afternoon let out. the professor's voice offering mention of the end of the first sprint. You traversed amongst the student body's current before veering off to a corridor. The current loosening its grasp the closer you ventured toward the sanctuary of paper and ink.

10. Nothing Fight - Crosshair x F!Reader

It could be easy to say Clone Force 99 had a culture separate from the sea of clones. Clone medics would be reassigned in the blink of an eye and nat born medics often assigned whoever pissed off the higher ups. This led to your current long term assignment. Having a medic on board being the main reason one of your patients was released to his squad early pending observations.

NPT - @photogirl894 @rain-on-kamino @tecker @techs-stitches @littlemissmanga @annwayne @fakegingerrights @merkitty49 @moodymisty @starrylothcat

Wanna promote your work here too? Do it!

#star wars #the bad batch #sw fandom #sw fanfic #the expanse #tbb #star wars crossover #oc x canon #canon x canon #belters #clones #for beltalowda #crosshair tbb #tech tbb #echo clone wars #echo is a PRINCESS #there are two types of people in this world #people who accept Echo is the fairest prettiest princess with a bald assed head in the land #and everyone else who is wrong but shall be lead unto the light

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the-scandalorian · 4 years ago

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Intrasolar

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M Word Count: 5.8k Warnings: ANGST and SPICE and FLUFF, canon-typical violence, nonexplicit sex, cursing, nongraphic descriptions of injuries, grief, nightmares, references to drowning/death in the context of nightmares, alcohol consumption Summary: This is the sequel to Extrasolar. You'll definitely want to read that part first! Author Notes: Parts of this are from Din’s perspective (third person) and parts are from yours (second person).

You did a double take the first time you saw him, whipping your head back to watch him run a hand through his slightly unkempt hair.

You’d never seen him before. He was probably passing through the small coastal town like most people who wandered into the cantina, and he was ruggedly, strikingly handsome. You turned your attention back to the stack of credits you were sorting into the register before he noticed your staring. Your first thought was that he looked familiar, but that wasn’t quite right. He felt familiar? Did that make sense? You shook your head to banish the thought and refocused on the task at hand.

He wasn’t seated in your section, so you wouldn’t be serving him anyway.

Like every other day, you settled easily into the flow of work, welcoming the comfort of tunnel vision. Things were always busy enough at the cantina to require all of your attention, which conveniently prevented you from ruminating on things you couldn’t change.

There was one thing—or more accurately, one someone—in particular you were trying not to think about. You’d been trying not to think about him for over a year now.

Losing him had left you in pieces, a thousand jagged pieces that would never fit back together in quite the same way. So here you were—still you, but different.

Immediately after, to distract yourself from the pain, you had taken some non-Guild work only to find that everything you’d enjoyed about hunting had been warped into vile, unbearable feelings. The thrill of the adrenaline rush was poisoned into anxiety, which clouded your judgment and hindered your ability to think on your feet. The satisfaction of outsmarting a quarry was corrupted into the deep-seated guilt of betrayal and the fear of potentially dooming an innocent person to capture.

Your world of black and white had been painted shades of metallic gray, swallowed whole by the silver sheen of beskar.

So, you did what you had to do—you dismantled your life and built something new, something simple and monotone and self-contained. You removed yourself from the swirling chaos of the galaxy and planted your feet firmly on the ground. You fortified your heart against any potential entanglements by settling in a quiet place, keeping to yourself, and abandoning your old profession. Now, you were an actual waitress, not a bounty hunter who occasionally played the role of waitress to ensnare an unsuspecting quarry.

Do your job. Keep your head down. Go home.

That was your mantra.

An hour later, when you hung your apron on the peg behind the bar and turned to leave, you saw that the man was still seated. His eyes met yours, and with an unexpected wave of panic, you felt pinned, trapped by the spotlight of his gaze. You were only able to turn away when someone in the kitchen dropped a dish, the loud crash breaking the paralyzing spell. You hurried toward the exit, and in your periphery, you could tell his gaze followed you. You realized why he felt familiar: his unwavering stare and something about his posture and the mechanical swivel of his neck reminded you of him.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you stepped into the comfortably warm air of the evening and directed your feet toward home. You savored the ritual of your daily walk, taking the well-worn path bordered by a dense coniferous forest on one side and the shore on the other.

This wasn’t a rare occurrence.

At least weekly, something would remind you of him—someone laying a hand on your lower back, a gravelly voice, a Mandalorian in green armor, the pressure of a chilly window pane on your forehead, a set of especially nice shoulders...the list was endless. A memory would sink its eager claws into your throat and yank you back in time. You’d blink and be sitting at a table with him once again, holding the child on your lap, looking into the black expanse of his glass visor. You could feel the cold of his beskar under your fingers, smell his scent—metallic, warm, alluring. The memories were unlike any others you had: they were visceral, tangible.

In the beginning, these moments knocked you on your ass. When you’d stumbled and a customer wearing soft leather gloves had steadied you, you'd wrenched yourself away, unable to stand the familiar texture gripping your arms so tightly. You had to awkwardly excuse yourself and rush out the back door to take gulps of fresh air to soothe your thumping heart.

Those first few months, when the gaping wound of grief was still so raw, were brutal.

Frustratingly, these instances of heartbreak faded in intensity and frequency much more slowly than you had hoped. Here, over a year later, the hurt was the same—apparently, it would take years to build immunity to this type of pain—but you had, at least, learned how to withstand the pain discreetly. Now, you were conditioned to take it in stride.

You wove your way through the scrubby dunes, leaving the path that edged the forest to strike out on the direct route to your little house. The sound of relentless ocean waves was a grounding metronome in the back of your mind.

The grief wasn’t avoidable, but you could numb it for a while—postpone it to give yourself a break. Over time, you'd identified the things that could occupy your mind enough to offer some relief: work, the ocean, fucking, whiskey, sleep.

And, thus, you had perfected a foolproof daily routine: work, the ocean, fucking, whiskey, sleep.

You stepped onto your creaking porch and unlocked the front door. As always, you immediately went to your room to change. With a towel in hand, you walked back out your door and across the wide expanse of sand to the edge of the sea. For almost an hour, you lost yourself in the refreshing salt water, swimming laps between two rock structures that breached the surface, staying out past the tumult of the breaking swells. It was cold enough and strenuous enough that all you could do was focus on one stroke and then the next, propelling your aching body forward.

The sun was starting to set when you emerged, breathless and exhausted, and you returned home, your damp feet sinking into the rapidly cooling sand. Like clockwork, your neighbor was there, sitting on your porch—ready to commence the third act of your routine. He lived a couple houses down, and you had the perfect arrangement for both of you: regular sex without any obligation. He was beautiful, kind, uncomplicated.

When he fucked you, your mind went blank: it was like falling into white noise. You let it swallow you, let it sweep you away—because, in that nothingness, your thoughts had no surface on which to ricochet, so instead of echoing incessantly as they usually did, they faded away. It was blissful static.

Today, though, a thought found purchase. Unbidden, an image formed behind your eyelids—an unfaltering picture of that man with the overpowering gaze. It crowded your mind, and your eyes flew open, your breath shallow. You did your best to focus on the feeling of the man pressed against you, the silky sheets fisted in your hands, the slow tension building in your body.

It was futile.

You felt claustrophobic in your own head.

You gently extracted yourself from his embrace, mumbling that you had a headache. He was understanding and thoughtful, bringing you a glass of water and a pain pill before slipping out the front door to let you rest.

You ignored the pill and poured yourself whiskey instead—a more generous serving than normal in hopes of flooding the image out of your mind. When that didn’t work, you commenced the final stage of your routine early. You tossed and turned in bed, frustrated that there had been a breakdown in your system. This wasn’t supposed to happen: these five things were supposed to provide uniform reprieve every day. You tried not to agonize over it. Tomorrow would prove that this was a fluke, an anomaly, nothing more.

Eventually, you fell into a fitful sleep.

You woke early the next morning to a loud knock. Head fuzzy with sleep, you stumbled out of bed, clutching the blanket around your shoulders, and cracked the door.

It was the stranger from yesterday.

He had brown hair that needed a trim, patchy stubble along his jaw, and one of the most handsome faces you’d ever seen. His eyes were an inviting brown; they spoke of warm embraces and safety and home.

And when he smiled—

When he smiled shyly, his cheek dimpled, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. You wanted to hold him.

You opened the door all the way.

You looked at him, and all you could think was that he was both the person you wanted to rail you with absolutely no mercy and the person you wanted to hold you when you cried.

Your grip slackened involuntarily, and the blanket slipped off your shoulders and onto the floor, pooling around your feet.

On some level, you already knew, but you were still surprised when he spoke your name and reached a hand out toward you. You took a reflexive step backward, ankle catching on the blanket, flinching away from his touch. Even without the distortion of the modulator, you’d know that voice anywhere.

“Mando—”

***

two months earlier, Nevarro

The Jedi came for the kid, and Din immediately felt disoriented without him: untethered, adrift. Over the last year and a half, everything important to him had been stripped away, and now, empty-handed, he was forced to appreciate the magnitude of what he had lost.

To cope, this new grief was shunted into the shadowy recesses of his heart to keep his existing grief—for his parents, for his tribe, for his identity, for her—company.

He told himself that work was what he needed—routine and familiarity. He could slip back into what he’d once known, back when his life had revolved solely around a job; he would recapture the focus and tireless, single-minded resolve that he’d relied on for so long. He returned to Nevarro and took the hardest jobs Karga had to offer.

Din had never told Karga what his deception had cost him—how a simple lie had completely rearranged his universe. The first time he saw Karga after he lost her, he had been legitimately tempted to kill him (fuck, it would have been so easy), but he’d been desperate for help taking down the Imp. So, Din had locked away those feelings—his longing and anger and grief shut safely behind iron bars in his heart—to prioritize the safety of the kid. And even now that the kid was with his people, Din was afraid to tap into that rage and hurt, terrified that he’d unleash something wild, a destructive force that would overpower him.

Besides, Karga was a means to an end, nothing more. He didn’t deserve to know. And so, Din guarded the story jealously. He didn’t even tell Cara when she prodded gently.

Evidently, however, in the wake of losing the kid, Din’s heart was at capacity, and bounty hunting was not a compelling enough distraction from the clamoring of so much grief unacknowledged. On jobs, he was inefficient and reckless, making rookie mistakes he hadn’t struggled with in decades. He felt none of his old drive. What was he doing this for? What was the point? He’d always had a guiding star, a direction, a mainstay, a why. Not anymore.

Din was desperate to feel grounded; he yearned for the reassuring sanctuary of gravity, but everything large enough to hold him down was gone. So he was left to wander aimlessly and alone.

Several weeks into his failing plan, Din limped up the ramp of his new ship and hoisted an unconscious body into the carbonite chamber before collapsing onto the floor. He’d been careless. The quarry had managed to outfox him at every turn, prolonging what should have been a two-day job into a two-week struggle. In the end, Din had caught him, but not before he’d pursued him across miles of unforgiving desert and been stabbed twice.

He was in pain, exhausted... and despite the fact that he’d captured the bounty, he felt utterly defeated. The thrill of eluding danger and the rush of pride that used to accompany the successful completion of a job were absent. He hadn’t felt those things in months.

He lay there on the floor of the hull, chest heaving. Without lifting his head, he closed the ramp and initiated the ground security protocols with his vambrace. He knew he should get up. The wounds on his side and his thigh were slowly leaking blood, and he needed to tend to them right away. His body required water and food, then sleep.

Any minute, he’d get up and grab his medkit.

Any minute.

Instead, Din thought about the things he had lost.

There were the inanimate things, the loss of which shouldn’t weigh on his soul the way they did, but when almost everything in his life was transient, the few things that were enduring became significant, whether he liked it or not. He thought about his Amban Rifle—a reliable companion in his solitary existence. There was an endless list of threats that rifle had saved him from: a Ravinak, quarries, hunters, raiders, an AT-ST, troopers, a kriffing Krayt Dragon. On an almost daily basis, he found himself reflexively reaching over his shoulder for it, only to close his hand around the cold beskar spear.

And there was the Razor Crest, the closest thing he’d had to a home for decades. It had been as integral to his sense of self as his armor, something he didn’t realize until it was gone. He hated every inch of this new, unfamiliar ship. It held no memories, and memories were the only source of warmth that made a real difference to him in the unforgiving chill of space. In the Crest, he could picture the kid, and her, and even Cara and Kuill; he knew where they fit. In this ship, there were only blank silver expanses.

Then, there were the people he'd lost.

Din thought about his tribe, the haunting image of a pile of empty beskar shells flitting through his mind. In the past, his duty had sometimes felt like a burden—the responsibility to provide for so many resting on his shoulders alone—but now, he realized it had been his backbone. Without it, everything crumbled. What felt like chains holding him down had, in reality, been scaffolding, maintaining every bit of his integrity.

He knew it was time to look for what remained of his covert, but he could barely bring himself to think about it, let alone do anything. What happened if he searched and found no one? The prospect of seeking out the splintered fragments only to find that none survived was even harder to fathom than leaving it unknown. If he didn’t search, there was always the possibility that they were out there. He was being a coward in the name of preserving what little hope he had left. It was selfish.

But... that wasn’t the only reason he delayed.

Din thought about his lost identity, his broken Creed. Did he even have the right to seek out his tribe when he was no longer one of them, no longer a Mandalorian? Was he still a Mandalorian? He still wore his armor, but he wasn’t totally sure why—another question he couldn’t answer. If he was no longer a Mandalorian, how could he possibly have a rightful claim to the Mandalorian throne? The Darksaber sat at the bottom of his weapons locker, burning another hole in his already frayed conscience.

This was what he was left with after he took off his helmet that first time, a swarm of needling questions that ate at him every day.

But it was worth sacrificing the Creed for the kid.

Right?

He thought about Grogu, a tiny, three-fingered hand on his face. He wondered what he was doing, if he was happy, if he thought of Din as often as Din thought of him. At least he had a face to attach to his memories now. Was he learning a lot from the Jedi? Did he get to spend time outside playing in the sun? Was anyone rocking him gently to sleep the way he liked when he was fussy?

And, finally, he came to the last entry in the catalog of what he’d lost in the last year or so: he thought about her. To be fair, he had never really had her. He never had the chance to call her mine, but they’d had potential—the promise of something more, a bright shiny glimmer of hope. At a time when Din’s world was turned upside down, right after he’d broken the Guild code to save the child from the Empire, when he was totally out of his depth and everything around him felt like chaos... she had made him feel still. And that was a hell of a thing to lose.

Even after she revealed her true motives, he couldn’t shake that feeling—that feeling that she was the thing he was supposed to orbit.

He could picture so vividly the way her features lit up when he and the kid walked into the cantina. He could hear the musical cadence of her laugh, feel the comforting warmth of her hand over his, smell the light floral notes of her hair.

With those details playing through his mind, he drifted off. He let grief and exhaustion and defeat pull him under.

Din couldn’t breathe. He was underwater, suffocating weight pressing in around him as his heavy beskar dragged him deeper. She was drowning, arms and legs flailing as something with an iron grip on her ankle drew her down. He reached for her, arms outstretched, but he couldn’t keep pace with her descent. His lungs burned, begging for air, as the reassuring light of the surface retreated above him. He watched in horror as her eyes widened in panic, and she choked, lungs filling with water. He tried to yell, kicking toward her frantically, but she stilled, all the fight leaving her body.

He woke with a start, adrenaline coursing through his veins. In a panic, he ripped off his helmet, letting it clang loudly against the metal floor, and took several shaking breaths. Clarity burned through him like acid. With the little strength he had left, his head swimming from dehydration and blood loss, Din hauled himself to his feet and did the simple list of things that would keep him alive.

He couldn’t wear his helmet after that. Every time he put it on, he felt like he was suffocating, the years of bearing the heavy beskar no match for the stifling weight of his shame. And the armor felt wrong without the helmet, so he stopped wearing that too. He locked it away with the Darksaber.

To move forward, he had to let what little he had left fall away.

In the following weeks, he traced her name, her chain code, her age. He recalled every detail she’d shared with him—about her family and past and likes and dislikes, anything that might give him some clue as to where she’d be. He worked from a holomap on which he'd meticulously marked off the planets he'd already eliminated as possibilities. He'd had to recreate this map after he lost the Crest, but that was easy enough, as he vividly remembered each and every planet he'd scoured.

And eventually—ironically, thanks to some information from Karga—Din uncovered the promising golden thread of a lead.

He tracked her to a planet that was largely water, one known for its expansive oceans, beautiful coastlines, persistent sunshine, and temperate weather—her ideal home. He felt the softest stirring of hope in his chest, knowing that she was where she wanted to be.

The first time he saw her again, it was from afar, but he knew her by the way she carried herself, her unmistakable walk. His heart stuttered. She was as beautiful and perfect and bright as he remembered. He didn't realize until that moment that a small part of him had worried he'd built her up, romanticizing the memories until she was more than human in his mind. But there she was, just as ethereal as in his daydreams.

For those first few days, all Din did was watch her. He reminded himself that she wasn’t a quarry, but there was some information he needed, and this was the only way to get it. He wanted to know if she was happy; he wanted to know if his appearance would be welcome or disruptive.

He studied the topography of her life, searching for any hint that there was a place in it for him.

He smiled when he found out that she lived in a small cottage right on the beach. He stopped breathing, fists clenching by his sides, when he watched her walk into the waves and disappear, only to reappear seconds later. For the briefest moment, his mind flashed back to his nightmare, and he had the mad impulse to follow her and pull her out. But he knew she never needed saving.

Even still, he waited at the edge of the forest until she emerged.

Frustratingly, the more he watched her, the less certain he became. He knew what she was to him, but how was he to know what he was to her? He had been a job that had evolved into something more. She had confirmed that what had grown between them was also real for her—the written proof was folded neatly in his pocket. So surely, she had real feelings for him at some point... but how real? And how enduring? Her feelings had been tamped down, reined in because she was doing a job. How successful had she been at burning them away? How much had her feelings been eroded by time? It had been over a year... maybe that was too long.

He watched a man walk up and sit on her front step, awaiting her return. She approached him with a smile on her face, salt water dripping from her hair, and took his hand, leading him inside.

Fuck, that smile.

Was her solar system already complete? Or was there still room for a devoted moon? Would she want it to be him?

In the end, Din told himself that if she could take the leap of faith and trust him so many months ago, he owed it to her to swallow his fear and let her make this choice for herself. Last time, he had made her feel like he didn’t want her, and that was his biggest regret.

He wasn’t going to do that to her again.

***

“Mando—”

She looked scared.

He didn’t expect fear. He expected confusion, surprise, irritation, apathy, maybe even anger? But never fear. But there he was, standing in front of her, and fear flashed across her eyes.

“Din,” he rushed to get the words out, “My name is Din.”

The fear faded as quickly as it came.

“Din,” she repeated.

He’d imagined her saying his real name hundreds, if not thousands of times, and his imagination got nowhere close to the real thing. His throat felt tight.

She stepped forward, raising her hands to frame his face. Her eyes glazed over slightly; she was entranced as she took him in, caressing his cheeks and scanning his features like she was trying to commit every detail to memory.

Din leaned into her touch, closing his eyes to savor the moment. His breathing slowed, and for the first time in months, he felt still.

When he opened his eyes again and met hers, she startled slightly, like she hadn’t realized what she was doing.

“Sorry—”

She started to lower her hands, but Din caught them, bringing them back up to his face, unwilling to lose the contact.

“Don’t be,” he said, smiling uncertainly. The corner of her mouth quirked up in the beginnings of an answering smile.

They stood there for a moment, Din holding her hands against his face.

He’d planned what he was going to say, rehearsing it in his head at length, because he was worried as soon as he saw her, he’d revert to his inability to string words into sentences. Sure enough, despite his preparation, his mind was blank.

So instead, he asked, “Can I kiss you?”

In response, she slid her hands around his neck and pulled his face down to meet hers, and relief spread through him like a cleansing fire, stealing the breath from his lungs.

***

When your lips met, everything fell into place; it felt like the universe spontaneously rearranged itself and finally got it right—every planet and every star and all the empty space in between attained perfect alignment in an instant.

You had no idea that one moment could curate the arrangement of the cosmos exactly to your liking.

You pulled Din backwards across the threshold into your house, kicking the door shut behind him without losing contact with his lips. You were both desperate and clumsy and impatient, hands everywhere at once.

He was just as you remembered and completely new. You recognized those shoulders, those hands, that scent—he somehow retained the metallic twang of beskar even without the armor. The way his breath hitched and his chest expanded when you slipped your tongue past his parted lips was familiar, reminding you of his reaction the first time you touched him.

But you’d been privy to such a limited sliver of him before; now, here he was, laid bare for you to learn again, and so you charted his features with your hands, your lips, your eyes, every part of you. Eager to close what little space remained between your bodies, you pushed his jacket off his shoulders, and he obliged, tugging it off until it slid to the floor.

A dim thought rankled at the back of your mind, a reminder that you were taking the life you’d carefully constructed and throwing it straight out the fucking window, inviting uncertainty directly into your orderly world.

You were finding it difficult to care when Din’s hands were lighting a fire across your skin.

You had a million questions for him, but only two were louder than the need humming in your veins. You broke away for a moment to say, “Where’s the baby?”

“Grogu—”

You were both panting, slipping words in between kisses, too enthralled in each other to stop and have a real conversation.

“What?”

“That’s his name—”

Palms on his chest, you pressed him against the wall, trailing open-mouthed kisses down his neck. He groaned and lolled his head back when you sucked one beneath the sharp corner of his jaw so you did it again.

“Fuck—he’s with the Jedi—he’s, uh, he’s with his people now. I brought him back to them.”

At that, you actually did stop, stepping back to look into his eyes, hands linked behind his neck.

“You must miss him so much.”

His eyes met yours for the briefest moment then flicked away, grief written plainly on his face. “Yeah,” he admitted. “But he’s where he belongs.”

Din wrapped his arms around you, drawing you into his tight embrace and resting his chin on the crown of your head. Unspoken words hung in the air: and this is where you belong.

Ear pressed to his chest, you smiled and asked, “And your helmet?”

He hesitated. “I... I took it off to say goodbye to the kid. I couldn’t let him go without showing him my face...” His voice caught, and he paused to take a deep breath. “I sacrificed the Creed to do it, and I still don’t know if it was the right decision.”

“Of course, it was the right decision,” you said earnestly, nodding against him, “You told me how precious foundlings are, and you prioritized your foundling. How could that be wrong?”

You were the farthest thing from an authority on the Mandalorian Creed, but you were certain—so deeply, painfully certain—that Din was a good person and sharing love with a child could never be wrong.

“I don’t know what’s right anymore...” He ran a hand over his eyes, scrubbing it over his face as he let out a resigned huff. “I found out that some Mandalorians do take off their helmets, so I don’t know what to believe.” He sounded exhausted, lost.

You pulled away to fix him with a fierce look, framing his face with your hands to force him to meet your gaze. “You cared for Grogu and kept him safe and brought him to his people. You protected a child, loved a child. That’s what matters. An arbitrary rule is nowhere near as important as that, and breaking it doesn't change who you are. I think you already know that.”

He stared intently, and you worried for a second that you’d offended him, stepped over an invisible line by assuming you knew better than he did what was right or wrong in this case.

“I’m sorry, I—”

He crashed his lips against yours once again, and when you stumbled back in surprise, Din steadied you, holding you upright.

There was nothing else pressing you needed to know in that moment; you had everything you needed in this, the refuge of his arms. There would be time for everything else.

He slipped his hands under the hem of your shirt and before he could even ask, you ripped it over your head, tossing it aside. He responded in kind, divesting himself first of the several weapons strapped to his belt and his calf, then his shirt.

You raked your eyes down his face to his perfect chest—muscled, golden brown, littered with a constellation of scars—and mused, “You know, if I had known from the beginning that you looked like this under your armor, I’d have thrown my entire plan out the window to fuck you immediately.”

He barked out a surprised laugh. “I would have preferred that.”

Laughing, you grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall to your bedroom. He paused at your doorway to say, “I, uh, I want you to know—this isn’t what I came for.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “What did you come for?”

“I—just... you.”

“Then take me.”

“I mean... All of you, not just this.”

You slid your fingers under his belt and jerked him forward, smiling mischievously: “Well, we have to start somewhere.”

He laughed, leaning down to press his forehead against yours.

And when he did take you, when you closed your eyes, you didn’t slip into that familiar static. You stayed—there, with him, where you belonged. It was all whispered praises and breathless moans and a tangle of euphoric thoughts. It was overwhelming, a hum of lust and safety and longing, a hyperawareness of every sensation. You felt held—carefully, lovingly, preciously.

Hours later, you were lying with your head on his chest, the steady beating of his heart a reassuring cadence in your ear. You lifted your head slightly to look up at him: “Why now?”

He looked down and furrowed his eyebrows. “Because I happened to find you this time.”

“What do you mean?”

His fingers traced intricate patterns on your back. “I looked for you that day. I looked for you for a couple weeks after, and I would have found you if I’d had more time... but then I was quested with finding the kid’s people, so I had to stop. But whenever I was near a temperate planet with an ocean and had some time, I stopped to look for leads. And then when the Jedi came for the kid, I, uh, was lost for a bit... I tried to work to distract myself from everything but I couldn't. So... I had time again. I had to find you.”

He said it so unsentimentally. He put his devotion into words like it wasn’t a declaration of love—he recounted it like a simple fact.

You sat up and swung a leg over his hips, pressing your lips against his once again. He straightened, running his hands down your back and crushing you against his chest. The tempo of your breath kicked back up in tandem.

It was a relief that you were both on the same page: you had over a year of touch to make up for, and you were shameless in your pursuit of that goal.

You mumbled against his mouth, breathless: “That day—the day I left... I thought you hated me.”

Din leaned back, brow wrinkled in genuine confusion. “I could never hate you.”

“You said the person you were falling for didn’t exist.”

“You let us go. You proved me wrong.”

“Oh.”

“Even if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have hated you. You thought you were doing the right thing. I shouldn't have said that... I didn't meant it. I was hurt. And drugged.”

“Oh.”

You shook your head, laughed. What could you do but laugh? It didn’t matter anymore. Why mourn what little time you had lost when you had what you needed stretched out infinitely before you?

It tasted like hope, this feeling—to be able to look forward once again, to broaden your horizon back to the endless possibility it once promised. Finally, you’d be able to move freely, unencumbered by the need to maintain safeguards around your heart. You could venture out into the galaxy knowing wherever you went with him, you'd never be lost.

Smiling, you asked: “So, what now?”

He looked down and clasped your hand, lacing his fingers between yours. When his eyes met yours again, there was so much uncertainty there, so much unease, you almost had to look away.

Fuck. The bright light in your chest faltered like the wavering of an unsteady flame.

“I—There’s something I need to do. A few things, actually... things I’ve been avoiding, but I know I can do them now. I’m sorry, I'll have to go, but I needed to find you first,” he stopped, then rushed to add, “but I know you like it here. I wouldn’t ask you to leave—to come with me. No, but I’ll come back. Of course, I’ll come back to you. I’ll always come back to you, for as long as you want me.”

The light in your chest expanded, filling every inch of you with warmth. You smiled at him, placing a reassuring hand over his thumping heart, and leaned down to press your forehead to his.

You closed your eyes. “I want you to ask.”

He let out a relieved sigh, holding you closer. “Will you come with me?”

You kissed a word into his lips: yes.

***

Tagging those who expressed interest in a sequel to Extrasolar: @disgruntledspacedad @thirstworldproblemss @dincrypt @beskarhearts @goldielocks2004 @elinedjarin @speakerforthedead0 @thosewickedlovelies @theawkwardpedestrian

Everything tag list: @spideysimpossiblegirl

I hope I didn't miss anyone! I'm sorry if I did!

#extrasolar #intrasolar #my writing #din djarin fan fiction #the mandalorian fan fiction #din djarin reader insert #the mandalorian reader insert #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #mature #angst

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five-rivers · 4 years ago

Text

Home

The building that housed Fentonworks had never been normal, no matter what neighbors and real estate agents might profess.

Things had happened there. Deaths. Wild twists of fate and shocking coincidences. People who lived there heard noises, saw things, felt things. Experienced sicknesses with no cause. Were cured of sicknesses without cause. Survived things that should have killed them.

It was a thin spot between worlds. Reality was a rippling membrane, frayed enough for things to shine through.

The construction of the neighborhood itself had been… strange. It happened much faster than it should have, as if there was a whole extra shift of workers on the project.

The townhouse that would one day become Fentonworks had stood out even in that mystery. Extra rooms, a basement deep enough to cause a nasty fight with regulators, features not approved by the architect.

It was a wonder they hadn’t hit any of the water lines or the sewage systems. A wonder- and an impossibility. So, the matter was ignored and dropped.

Then the next owners expanded that impossible basement, building another, secret basement and putting things in the walls- They were criminals, of course. It was expected for them to do illegal things. (Although exactly what they had done was… oddly uncertain.)

(Drugs, perhaps.)

Then, the lunatics. Then, the tiny cult that collapsed in on itself. Then the empty years, dozens of transient ghosts trying and failing to pass through, and the ghost hunters. So many ghost hunters, none of them particularly successful.

Then, the Fentons.

Then, little Jazz.

Then, little Danny.

Danny with wide eyes that saw too much.

And all the horrors that the Fentons could dream up, from living hotdogs to weapons that burned like stars and doors to places that should not be visited.

And this was Danny Fenton’s home.

The Manson estate was an odd case, even for Amity Park. Save for the basement, the entire building they lived in had been transplanted, brick and beam, from Germany.

Rich people were bizarre.

Even the Mansons couldn’t explain it. The man who had done it hadn’t been a Manson. The Mansons, who were relatively new money, all things considered, had purchased it from one of the man’s children. Anything to boost their prestige.

It was fancy, and it was old, a gothic and statuesque mansion worthy of its name. Still, it wasn’t quite fancy or old enough to merit the kind of expenditure moving it had to take.

Hence the rumors, squelched by the Mansons, that the place was haunted.

It wasn’t.

The rumors, however, were enough to get one Samantha Manson interested in the occult. Especially given how hard she saw her parents working to hide the rumors from her.

No. The mansion wasn’t haunted. For all it’s oddities and quirks – which only multiplied as the Mansons added more and more features to it – the building itself was mundane.

(The land it was built on might have been another story.)

And this was Sam Manson’s home.

The Foleys didn’t want to know what Tucker got up to in the attic, but liked to think that, with that one exception, their home was a nice one. It was on a nice street, in a nice neighborhood, just far enough away from Fentonworks to keep both sightings of the Ghost Assault Vehicle and resultant property damage and property taxes to a minimum. Within walking distance of the high school, a supermarket, and a park.

They kept the fridge and pantry stocked. Their food might not have always been healthy – red meat was an element of almost every meal – but it was always available and filling. They made an effort for the dietary restrictions of Tucker’s friends of course.

All the rooms were kept clean and neat. Even Tucker’s, by way of bribes. Everything was organized, everything had its place. Except, perhaps, for the stray shoe or piece of schoolwork.

But that attic.

It really hadn’t been anything, before Tucker asked if he could move his computer stuff up there. Just a storage space, one too difficult for either Angela or Maurice to climb up there often. They didn’t consider themselves old, but they couldn’t call themselves young either. Not with a son Tucker’s age.

Once Tucker had realized the attic was there, he had been fascinated. And, well, once he was old enough for them to not worry about him falling off the ladder, they let him go up.

Some days, it seemed, he didn’t come down.

Better than his faintly disturbing Ancient Egypt phase, where he kept bringing pictures of mummified corpses to the table. Or, worse, the werewolf phase.

And this was Tucker Foley’s home.

Amity Park had claimed the distinction of ‘most haunted town in America’ long before the Fentons opened their portal. In fact, that was the reason the Fentons had set up shop there, in the first place.

No haunted town was complete without at least one haunted house. Amity Park had several. Not to mention a haunted hospital, a selection of haunted schools, a haunted museum, a haunted pool, a haunted crosswalk, a haunted mall, a haunted football field… The list went on, essentially ad nauseum.

Of course, that list mostly consisted of places that became haunted after the Fentons built their portal. But even before then, some places offered their dubious charms to tourists.

Mostly gullible ones. More than half of the claims of hauntings before the portal opened were fraudulent in their entirety. These places quickly went broke and got abandoned when real ghosts started showing up.

One of these was the ominously named Raven House, which stood in the hills on the west edge of town.

The story the tourists of years gone by had been told was that a widower had lived out here, all by himself and that one day, he stopped coming to town, or paying his bills, or even getting his mail. When the mailbox at the end of the long driveway was full, the mailman decided to go check on the widower. What he found was a flock of ravens and a skeleton, entirely picked clean of flesh.

No such death had occurred there, nor in any part of Amity. No such person had ever lived in the house, either. The last owners, before the company that decided to market the house as haunted, were a couple with two children.

It wasn’t until months after the portal started up that it became haunted in truth.

“This place isn’t haunted,” said Danny, panning his flashlight over cobwebbed corners on the ceiling. “I don’t think it ever was.”

“That’s what, strike five?” asked Sam.

Danny shrugged. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Four, actually,” said Tucker. “We counted the hospital as inconclusive, since we don’t know if anyone was there before Spectra.”

Danny nodded. “It’s weird, though, isn’t it? That no one lives here, I mean. It looks like a perfectly nice house.”

“Décor’s a bit… eh. Trying to hard to be haunted,” said Tucker, poking a raven decal on the wallpaper.

“I like it,” said Sam. “Needs cleaning, though.”

“Hey,” said Tucker, “you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking, are you? Because I’m pretty sure that’d be illegal.”

“It isn’t as if anyone else is using the place,” argued Sam. “It could be a great backup hideout, if we ever had to… you know.” She glanced at Danny. “Plus, we’d be doing them a favor, really, keeping things clean and lived in.”

“I think it’s an okay idea,” said Danny.

“Yeah, but you think lots of dumb things are good ideas. Like showing up at a party hosted by people who publicly humiliate you on a regular basis.”

Danny grumbled something about trauma responses that sounded like a direct quote from Jazz and something else about that incident being ages (aka weeks) ago. Then, he brightened.

“We could get one of the little ectoplasm generators to power everything,” he said. “Remember all that stuff we lifted from Skulker and Technus? We could actually use it. Study and test things without worrying about whether our parents will walk in. I mean, your attic is great, but still.”

“Plus, we can have actual lab safety protocols. No offense, Danny.”

“I am the one that half-died in a lab accident, so… None taken.”

Tucker rubbed his chin. “Alright. I suppose I can see the appeal… But if we have stuff that can trace back to us, we could get in serious trouble."

“We’ll be careful, then,” said Sam.

“Anything I take from Mom and Dad has plausible deniability. They’ll assume ghosts stole it.”

“We also need to clean if we’re being serious about this. And get a fridge. And figure out the pluming situation.”

“Fridge is on the list. We have to be careful about the outside, too. If this place is suddenly well maintained, people will notice.”

“Sure, but that isn’t something they’d call the cops over,” said Danny. “They’ll just assume new people are moving in. If anyone sees it at all. We’re pretty far away from anything. But pluming won’t be too hard. We just need to bring our own water. Like, toilets flush using physics. If you dump more water in, they’ll go, no electricity required.”

“How do you know that?”

“I can’t even tell you how many time Mom and Dad blew out all our breakers with stuff in the lab,” said Danny. “You pick up a few things.”

“Well,” said Tucker, swinging his flashlight over to examine a discolored spot on the ceiling. “Then… Home sweet home, I suppose.”

There was a house in the hills in the west hills of Amity Park.

And this was the home of two and a half humans and half a ghost.

#danny phantom #dannymay2021 #dannymay 2021 #dannymay #dannymay day 2: home

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dreaminpetals · 4 years ago

Note

could i request hcs for naib and Jjseph reacting to their gn s/o coming back from a match severely wounded? like broken bones or having been left to bleed out (i saw someone hc that bleeding out feels like actually dying and someone else hc that the surv is left in a comatose state while they recover from exsanguination and i RAN with it)

🔪 naib and joseph react to mortally wounded s/o . . . 🎞

tw: emetophobia and blood

NAIB SUBEDAR ;;

art credit

♡ jack had left you to bleed out after being rescued. he chased martha all the way across moonlit while you writhed in pain inches away from the rocket chair. it was so excruciating that you considered chairing yourself so you could seek medical help immediately, but your legs were broken. you couldn't move an inch.

♡ once you finally went comatose, you faded back to the manor and martha hopped into the dungeon, panicking when she saw the blood pooling below you.

♡ his foggy blades had ripped through everything you had and you weren't looking good. you were rushed to the emergency wing where emily tended to you. the doctor was thankful you were comatose, because if you were conscious the disinfectants she used were so strong you would have let out screams of agony that she could never forget.

♡ naib burst through the doors the moment he heard of your condition. he kicked a hole in the wall when he saw how many machines you were hooked up to.

♡ had he been there, he never would have let this happen. martha is young, inexperienced. she wouldn't have been willing to sacrifice herself for you either. naib would have broken all of his bones himself if it could save you from simply bruising one.

♡ the usually stoic naib was wracked with grief, hiccuping back sobs and clinging to your bandaged frame. emily's heart broke as she heard him mutter "don't go, please baby don't leave me," whenever your breathing would spike.

♡ naib is furious with himself and with everyone who let this happen to you. his fists shake his rage and he nearly bites the head off anyone who tries to speak to him.

♡ none of the other survivors can console him. when he does leave your room, his actions are frantic and his interactions with others are limited. naib has complete hope that you'll wake up and he doesn't want to miss it. also, as much as he doesn't want to admit, he wants to be the first thing you see when you rise.

♡ the doctor and mercenary grew quite close over their shared anguish for you. naib would take your vitals as you slept and help flush out your IVs when necessary. he has some experience with tending to wounded soldiers so he knows all about the proper procedures for you.

♡ however, he's never seen something like exsanguination before. he can't bear to see you be drained. naib has seen plenty of disturbing and life altering sights but he needs to step out of the room when his lover is undergoing such a process. it would traumatize him more than your status already has.

♡ he cries himself to sleep every night. the thought of losing you claws the breaths out of his throat. he pulls up a bed beside yours and stays stationed there all night, only leaving when necessary.

♡ your steady breaths in the dead of the night help to ease his nerves but he can't stay asleep for too long in case that breathing stops and he isn't able to save you again.

♡ on the day you're scheduled to wake up, naib prepares a feast and a bouquet for you. you receive several bouquets from your friends, but naib consulted emma for the best, most romantic flowers to choose.

♡ your eyes flutter open to the sight of naib jogging towards you, eyes as wide as saucers as his fingers run through his hair in disbelief. so overjoyed he can't form a single word. he peppers you with kisses and his hot tears drip onto your cheeks.

♡ the bags under his eyes are a sign that naib hasn't been boding well with your affliction. pull him into your chest, mindful of any tubes you may still be connected to, and let him rest there. speak every once in a while or card your fingers through his chestnut hair stained with sweat so he knows that you're still with him.

♡ when he wakes up to you smiling down at him, he knows things will be okay. of course he'll be extra protective of you, but this has taught him that you won't go down without a fight. it's a tad reassuring for the mercenary.

♡ once you're able to walk and fight again, naib never lets you play against jack again for good measure, and he never leaves your side during matches. it doesn't matter how many rescuers the team has, naib is staying. and he's not letting you out of his reach, never again.

JOSEPH DESAULNIERS ;;

art credit

♡ joseph knows what courting a survivor entails. you're going to be hurt by the people he lives with and there's nothing he can do about it. he warns everyone to be gentle with his s/o, but the photographer's words fall to deaf ears during grisly rank matches.

♡ this match was one of those. one where zero survivors made it past the exit gate and the feaster was left to triumph over his four victims.

♡ you had been left to bleed out after reaching your self heal limit. hastur's mighty tentacle whipped you stronger than usual, breaking your ribs and leaving you wheezing for air. the red waves of pain that pulsed through your body with every breath left you a bawling puddle on the ground, curling into a fetal position as you silently pleaded to a god that wasn't listening for the last kiter to be chaired already.

♡ mike was finally stuffed into a chair and flown back to the manor while you oozed into the ground and landed on the cold tiled floor of the manor with a thud. he gasped when he saw your condition and alerted emily right away.

♡ laying in the hospital bed, joseph teleported into the room with knitted brows and a green tint to his complexion. the sheen of bile on his chin told you he had thrown up before arriving.

♡ your approaching lover, screaming as he saw your eyes close, was the last thing you witnessed before passing out for days.

♡ as far as joseph knew, you were dead.

♡ for the second time in his life, he lost the most important person to him. he shrieked and whimpered out sobs that chilled emily to the bone. she had to explain right away that you were alive, only comatose, and you were expected to make it through.

♡ the photographer didn't believe her. he saw the bones sticking out of your torso and the blood staining your shirt, he wasn't blind. his lover was dead.

♡ emily had to politely usher him out of the room as she and aesop went to work on your body, draining the blood to restore you to your former glory. this has happened to survivors before and you were no exception.

♡ as they operated on you, joseph struggled to walk back to your room. he clung to the walls and tables lining the hallways of the manor but nothing could propel his legs to move. they felt like bricks, chaining him down to the cold tiles you collapsed on upon your doomed arrival.

♡ there isn't a shred of hope inside of joseph's body. he isn't an optimistic person, especially not when he saw his darling draw their final, ragged breath. you had the death rattle. the same rattle claude had in his final moments.

♡ he saw aesop approach your hospital room. joseph took this as a sign of your departure, when it really was emily asking for a second hand to improve your chances of survival. all the critical thinking skills leave joseph's body when you're in any sort of danger.

♡ for days he laid in your bed back in your bedroom and slept with your clothes until your scent drifted away, replaced with his musty one from not bathing. he didn't want to wash you off of him. there was a small fleck of your blood on his sleeve that he would cherish forever as a memento of you.

♡ just as he became obsessed with capturing people after claude's death, joseph was itching to claim some lives due to yours. firstly he was going to snap a picture of the barbaric feaster who dared to steal his love away from him, then the survivors in the match with you who could have saved you.

♡ his final photograph was going to be your gorgeous corpse so you could truly be preserved forever.

♡ dragging his camera equipment down the halls, he was promptly stopped by emily calling his name. she told him to come to the hospital wing to visit you.

♡ he was appalled that the doctor would dare to ask him to look at his dead lover while he was busy avenging them. joseph was moments away from trapping her in his camera world for all of eternity, pinning the woman down and reaching for his film, when she exclaimed that you were awake.

♡ he gripped his lens so hard it shattered and cut his hands.

♡ with a snap of his fingers, joseph teleported back to your bedside where you were eating a plain cheese sandwich, a bit groggy with a bedhead but awake.

♡ he thought he was hallucinating.

♡ but he wasn't.

♡ you perked up where you sat and he dashed into your arms, deep cries rumbling from his chest as his tears stained your gown. his nose was dripping with snot and he had an almost vacant stare on his face as he scanned your features. feeling down your body, his hands ghosted against some bloodstained bandages wrapped tightly against your torso. he could feel your heartbeat thrum beneath his fingertips. you were okay.

♡ you were okay.

♡ joseph proposed to you and promised to murder any hunter who hurts you again. they all listen to him.

♡ though joseph's possessiveness and obsessiveness over you grew tenfold, you were never going to be hurt again and the thought lulled him to sleep every night as you snored in his arms. he was going to protect this innocent bundle sleeping with him until he drew his last breath.

#THAT HC ABT BLEEDING OUT... OUCH #naib subedar x reader #joseph desaulniers x reader #joseph desaulniers #naib subedar #idv x reader #identity v imagines

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masterjedilenawrites · 3 years ago

Text

The Batch Family Master List

Hunter, Wrecker, Tech, Echo, and Crosshair are children being raised by single mom Bethany Batch ("Beth"), in a modern Earth setting. This is a collection of short stories spanning a few different age groups and posted in a random/non-chronological order. Open to requests or thoughts on this AU as well.

⚽️ Children

The Table | Monday evenings in the Batch kitchen are a lively affair

The Costume | Tensions are high when Hunter and Crosshair want to be the same thing for Halloween

The Anniversary | New stories are told on the anniversary of the boys' adoption

The Friend | Beth connects with another mom at a pool party

Ruffled Hair | Crosshair makes a bold decision for a petty reason [October challenge]

The Sick Day | Wrecker comes down with a cold, and one by one the others follow

🏁 Teenagers

The Purge | The boys take a risk leaving their mom unsupervised as she cleans the house.

⏱ Multiple Ages

The Best Moments | Beth's favorite moments with the boys include TV shows and snuggles

Apple Scent | It's officially fall at the Batch house [October challenge]

The Ninth of September | Celebrating the boys' birthdays through the years

☕️ OC Characterization Posts

Art: Picrew of how I picture her

Shoe/Setting/Notice: If Beth was a shoe, a setting that encapsulates who she is, and things you'd notice about her first and later

Voice/Home/Weapon: Beth's voice, where she grew up, and her ideal weapon

Book/Trait/Weakness: Beth's favorite book, my favorite trait about her, a weakness she's not aware of

Important/Hobby/Starbucks: Most important thing to Beth, a hobby of hers, and her Starbucks order

TV/Plant/Body: Beth's favorite TV show, plant that captures her vibe, and her body type

💭 Thoughts / Questions

Initial Idea | The weird dream that started it all

Mom | A brief introduction-of-sorts

Dreary Days | Ask: What are the kids up to these days?

Basketball & Bedrooms | Ask: Who won the basketball tournament and do they all share a bedroom?

Beth's Name | Ask: How did you pick the mom's name?

Fives | Ask: Where is Fives in this AU?

#star wars #the bad batch #the batch family #tbb au #modern kids #single mom #hunter #wrecker #tech #echo #crosshair #oc beth

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herstarburststories · 4 years ago

Text

Home in a Motel Pool

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: Dean and you have some fun in the motel's pool.

A/N: This one took a little longer than I thought, but here it's! Wet Dean in motel pool for us. So canon compliant of me, I know I know. This piece is my submission for @deanwanddamons 's 1st Blogiversary and 2K follower celebration with the prompt in bold. Congrats again, honey! And it's also my part for @anaelsbrunette 's YAS’S POC READER CHALLENGE with the song Home by Depeche Mode. Thanks for the extra time and the marvelous challenge!

Warnings: sex in the pool, p in v, dirty talk

Hunting was brutal. Even when the hunters won, it was a victory with no triumph-- there would be someone dead, always a corpse and loved one weeping as a reminder that you and the Winchesters couldn’t save everyone. You’d come around the town, tell the folks what they wanted to hear to get some information, kill the thing, and luckily save a person or two. It was a page from the emptiest stage, a show for a crowd of three: you, Sam, and Dean. Their own critics and praisers, doctors and patients, sinners and saints.

And if your hands were melted and molded into killing machines, you better pray for your heart to be made of anything but gold. That job didn't leave space or time for tenderness. In order to hunt the prey, you must become ferocious. Attack anything on sight, sing to the loneliest sound that’s the gunshot in the dark, pretend that you’ll make amends only to end up befriending the glorious end of the line that often came too soon.

Thing is, it wasn’t just about that. It would be easier if it was all about perfect soldiers and ultimate killers. A black and white world stained with crimson red would be the ideal, but there were always more colors.

Certainly, it wasn’t the most illustrious job one could get. If anything, it was unfair and underpaid and the seed of violence. Every hunter happened to do things they never could speak about, and all the blood got so normalized to the point red is just the color that pointed you were doing it right. like a good grade or a father’s head pat. Where was the seat on the table for any gentless to sit down in the chaos? In the thankful hugs from the mothers of the rescued children, in the pranks the boys came up with against each other for no other reason but childish nostalgia, in the nights where the three of you stopped and sat on Baby’s hood to watch the stars in silence, in the way Dean’s tough hands touched your cheek so lovingly, in the smell of the Impala’s wheels burning against the streets. Summarizing, when saving people wasn’t reasoning enough, kindness appeared glistening in the middle of the pandemonium, as a paragon of something good in cruelty.

Just like this moment.

‘’My body aches in places I didn’t even know that could hurt.’’ You groaned as you got out of the classic black car, hand on the back of your neck to apply some pressure. Even being thrown against a wall by some demon hurt less than sleeping in the backseat-- sweet mundane problems.

Sam scoffed before adding insult to injury, ‘’At least you were sleeping and didn’t have to hear the same cassette three times.’’

‘’Quit whining, you two. I was the one driving through two states.’’ Dean said in a huff, swirling the keys as the three of you walked towards Bonita Motel’s entrance. He placed an arm around your waist, his own way of showing affection in quietude. Your hand slipped inside his leather jacket’s pocket. ‘’Sides’, Baby’s backseat is comfortable and Zeppelin is awesome.’’

The youngest Winchester refrained his response to an eye roll and a mumble among the lines not when played three times in a row. You, though, turned your head to the side and offered your stubborn boyfriend a cynical smile.

‘’I prefer a bed.’’

He aimed at you with his signature lopsided grin, the one he knew that you loved, while you passed through the main door of the establishment. ‘’That’s not what you said last week.’’

‘’Guys, limits.’’ Sam pleaded, shaking his head at Dean’s comment before turning around. He made a chatter that quickly got old with the woman behind the counter, gaining two keys. The long haired hunter tossed one at his brother, who quickly grabbed it with his free hand.

‘’This is a good motel…’’ You commented as the three walked upstairs, the gleaming blue sight caughting your brown eyes. Your whole body shone as if it was really a beach and not only a cheap motel’s pool. Dean and Sam had never gone to the beach, but you grew up with salt aired weekends, a collection of swimsuits, and a loud family on the sand. You missed the sensation of being held by the ocean so dearly. It wouldn’t be the same, nothing was after you jumped in Dean’s Impala in New York; hustling for some other life, a better one like your parents when they came to the United States. Yet, a pool could be diverting and cozy. Pulling away from your man’s hold, you approached the small chlorine miracle.

‘’There’s a pool!’’ You pointed out, as excited as a kid in a carnival. ‘’We should take a swim.’’

‘’You guys go. I have some research to do.’’ Sam nodded at the pool with his head, denying the request with a sleight of hand as he opened the lock of the room 209. ‘’Have fun, kids.’’

The green eyed man clicked his tongue when his brother disappeared with the craike of a door. He wasn’t exactly against the idea of jumping in the pool - apart from the germes, but his paranoia wouldn’t mind that much, not after trying endless motel’s bathtubs. The drive here had just been too long. Besides, if that crap motel had a well-cleaned pool, it probably had vibrating beds. He could use a massage. ‘’I think I’ll get crash in bed.’’

You arched an eyebrow. ‘’Didn’t you say that Baby’s backseat was comfortable to sleep?’’

‘’How taller than you I am, sweetheart?’’ He smirked as you walked back to him like you always did, your own north star in shape of a magnetic force of a man,

‘’Shush.’’ You slapped his chest playfully, wrapping your arms around Dean’s neck. ‘’Come on. Most motels we go to barely have a door, much less a pool. I miss going swimming. It’s a sunny day…’’ The childish joy in your tone metamorphosed into a newfound malice. ‘’You’ll get to see me in a bikini.’’

The Winchester wiggled his messy brows at your statement, suddenly reinvigorated as he placed his arms around your waist to bring you closer. Forget the body ache and all that, that was a way better reason to be sore in the bones later. ‘’You made some good points.’’

‘’I always do.’’ You kept the adamant tone, even when you could feel his breath on your cheek, those green eyes so livid when looking at you. God, you had to put a period here before things escalated and you two ended up getting to right in the middle of the hall. You attempt to make a joke: ‘’Darling it’s better, down where it’s wetter.’’

He knew it was a prompt from The Little Mermaid-- you two had watched two days ago in Tupelo, in a vintage television after killing a Ghoul, while Sam got some junk food. Yet, the kind of smile that brought to his face held anything but purity. A simple conversation became double-edged with Dean Winchester. You two often ended up breathless, either from fighting or from doing more entertaining dances. You should’ve seen that one coming.

‘’I know another wet spot.’’ He’d say, unholy significance trapped in each word as his right hand started to motion over your skin, guiding his greedy finger under your skirt. Your mouth was set in a grim line, a surprisingly determinate attempt to hold back a moan. You and Dean could do it in the pool, unite the good infant memories with the tent-like emotions of adulthood to make a grand deal.

‘’You’ll get all of me wet.’’ You kissed the corner of his lips, smoothly pulling away with a wink. So much self control. ‘’Hurry up, cowboy.’’

You grabbed your bag and rushed to room 208 to change your clothes, leaving an astonished, mildly turned on Winchester behind. Getting in the bathroom, which didn't stink for once, you swiftly changed into the bikini. A jade green one, directly from Brazil’s brand Cia Maritma. If you squint your eyelids hard enough, you could still put a name to each face that was with you when you wore it for the first time in the calmer days. All the long gone friends and the daily sunbath in your caramel skin.

Decided to leave the past well enough alone, you just smiled in melancholy and turned around, facing your reflex in the mirror. You looked hot. Dean surely would agree about that, especially with the way the top brought up your breast.

Arriving in the room to your boyfriend ready for the swim, you couldn’t help checking him out. You were attracted to the way the righteous man’s body was built since the first glance, addicted since the first touch. His shoulder, the freckles on his nose, and the way he wasn’t all defined, yet had the muscles right in the certain spots. You took off your hairpin, hair falling on your shoulder into a brown sea, like the waves crashing against the ocean rocks. The smell of your sweat and orange monopolizing the edges of everywhere, mainly Dean’s senses. He relished on how soft your skin was compared to his, how your accent tingled his insides, and the way you swing your hips while walking. Your boobs almost jumping at his face because of the tiny bikini only aroused him more.

The place had to get some credit. For a dive motel, it was more than they’d picture. Manageable bathrooms and safe locks, the pool glimmering blue with a small tree by the right side. It was gorgeous.

A dazzling breeze whispered through your bodies, causing you to shiver slightly and Dean to get sweet smelling sheets clinging to his knees and feet. Fucking tree. You could taste the friction swallowing the atmosphere, a report of what was near.

Before you could say anything, Dean grumbled as he pokes a leaf away. ‘’It’s gonna rain.’’

‘’It will.’’ You agreed, holding his hand to pull him closer, well-aware that your body would scare away any linger of adorable grumpiness. ‘’But who cares about raining when you’re in a pool?’’

It's the kind of question that doesn't need an answer, it briefly exists to make Dean distracted in wonder just now, a pause between seconds as you jump in the pool first. The water splashing around with a brutal sound. Your body seems to recall an old memory, how you made a lark of anything with your siblings in the sea, how you used to feel like the beaches were a peculiar way of God to show the living how his touch would feel like. Every fiber of your body missed this.

Dean went in too, emerging to the marvelous sound of your laugh. He glanced at you, now less of a hunter and more of a man. The drops on your face could easily be confused with tears, yet the way you grinned and threw water at him couldn’t leave space for any other world but happiness. The Winchester often noticed your longing for cultural things that you no longer had in the palm of your hand. It was stupid, he even felt somehow resposible for taking you away of everything you ever knew only to coaxe you through the road not taken— full of bumps and blood and undecked halls. Then you’d smile, you’d wrap your arms around him like you were doing in that exact moment, and he would see that the drops all over your face are flickering with your chortle.

What other choice would Dean have, what other option could he ever make himself pick, if not to place his hands on your hips? So it goes. He put his rough hand on your, each tender touch seeming to make the bruises there clear up.

The hunter was leaning in to kiss you as a wave of water met his face.

‘’Ops!’’

He narrowed his eyes, spilling out the water. ‘’You are gonna pay for this.’’

‘’I’d like to see you try, Kansas boy.’’

Yeah, you once were raised in the water, such an important part of your identity which you didn't wish to lose, yet slowly slipped beyond your reaches. But you had Dean, you had adventure, and you had the motel’s shitty pool. If you could find contentment in that, you should know that who you were wasn’t lost. You were still the five years old who played in the plastic pool, the seventeen girl who grabbed your cellphone’s lantern and went looking for what was making a noise at 3am, the twenty years old who jumped in a car with two hunters and a craving for finding her true home. You were all of them at once.

Heaven sent the only true friend you could call yours and you’re under his lips. Dean’s crashing his mouth with yours, hungry like an animal after your playful war. You two are soaked, and so is your pussy. He pressed your against the border of the pool, your back to the wall of it. The water rushes in and you couldn’t care less. When did a bikini start to look like too much clothing?

Breaking the kiss, the Winchester glanced at you. The green of all the wild gardens localized in his orbs, dappled with stars and desire. Waiting for his touches, enjoying when he took his time with you was always worthwhile. Today, though, you needed him fast and dirty and raw.

There was nothing you'd rather than spread your legs, so you did it. Dean’s smart fingers quickly ripping your panties and brushing against your heat. He let out an annoyed huff, missing the satisfaction of your wetness around his digitals, how he knew you were a mess for him and him only. The pool’s water didn’t let it much evident, he’d have to fuck you even harder, make sure you were still needy for his cock.

You whined, clinging to his touch with a swing of hips. His hand covering your pussy as Dean applied some pressure, savoring the way your body winced and your eyes shut close, a beautiful moan leaving your lips. He couldn’t wait to eat you out later after he made you come in this stupid pool. Hedonism made his blood thicker-- like he was a calm sea before you, and now his waters were violent and hungry for destruction.

He pulled his hand away. ‘’Dean…’’

‘’Don’t worry, sweetheart.’’ His throbbing cock entered you, voice even deeper as he spoke. ‘’Gonna give you what you want.’’

You placed your legs around his waist and he held your thighs underwater, the sky spilling out its own water above. It didn’t stop two. Your hand on his shoulders, nails sinking in seemed to be a combustible for Dean to go harder inside of your. His hips attacking yours as his mouth kissed your neck with bites.

‘’Dean, please.’’ You pleaded, warm walls squeezing his long dick. ‘’More.’’

‘’All my cock is for you, honey. You get all of it, fucking you, scratching you open.’’ The eldest Winchester said, his voice so low and sensual. You could come only from his talking. ‘’That’s what you want, huh? You want me to fuck that pretty cunt, mark you up inside this shitty pool.’’ His digital reached your clint and you growled. Dean kept his dick inside you, unable to pull away from the heavenly sensation of being inside you. ‘’Wanna know something? I can’t wait to come inside that tight pussy right here.’’

He increased the rhythm, pounding you even faster and rougher as you tried to keep up, the lack of synchrony causing his cock to reach and pull inimaginable pleasures inside you, all turning more brutal and necessary. The pool had its own waves, your and Dean’s movements causing a chaos ocean chaos in it.

The heat and the sickliest, you were drowning in pleasure with each thrust to a desperate beat that his heart echoed. All your pretty noises tangled with his breathless howls. The rain’s drops becoming one water with the pool as you and him became one with your intertwined bodies, only to grow apart again and come back in need for more.

Your and your lover’s figures distorted on the reflex of the pool water, washing away any piece left of purity as you moved in a hurry when you finally reached your orgasm. Your cunt tightening around his hardness was too much to bear, making Dean come after you.

He rested his forehead against yours, breathless faces with closed eyelids darting together. The heat calmed down by the water. Dean dared to look at you, but not to pull away. His cock remained inside your tight cunt and he caressed your cheek gently. That woman pounded from within and is pinning him down to earth, like you are his own gravity, the glimpse of relief, the lover’s photographe that gives the soldier’s battle a meaning.

‘’There’s a saying in my country.’’ You said suddenly, opening your brown eyes as he lifted his head to greet yours with his forest ones.

Dean captured your small nose, your desirable lips, your big eyes, your gorgeous tan skin, the signals he had map of on his lips. His thumb still stroked your face as his cock took its time to weaken inside your pussy. ‘’Yeah? What’s it?’’

‘’Quem está na chuva é pra se molhar.’’ He arched his eyebrows, a silent request for an english version. The Winchester knew around ten words in your mothertongue. Half pet names, half cussing. You pecked his plump lips. ‘’There's no literal translation, some things just lose their core if you try to put them to another language. It would be like if you are in the rain you want to get wet. It would be another way to say if you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen.’’

‘’I gotta say, you look pretty hot when you say those things.’’ You smirked. You rolled your eyes playfully, fingernails tenderly fondling the back of Dean’s neck under his haircut. ‘’Do you miss it?’’

‘’My country?’’

‘’Yeah. Not just your country but your language, your friends, your life there.’’ He shrugged, secretly scared of the answer. ‘’It’s not like we go to the same places you used to go to. I see how many bikinis you carry around.’’

Which was the main reason he booked that motel. You didn’t need to know that. The childish joy you had with the surprise was enough for his credit.

‘’No. Well, I still speak my language when I’m mad at you.’’ Dean chuckled. Whenever you two got in a heated argument, your inner latina would come out and jump at him in both languages at once. It was supposed to be serious, but mostly got him all hot and bothered. Your accent was just too sexy, especially when you were angry. ‘’But no, not really. I miss situations and people, but not how it was. It was a good life, but it wasn’t the one I was supposed to have.’’ You pulled him to you by his neck. ‘’I thank you, you know? For bringing me here. For showing me home, Even for the tears and the fear. I finally I’ve found where I belong.’’

Tranquility engulfed the atmosphere momentarily as comfortable as a silent sleeper, the rain no longer coming, giving stage to a sunny sky. You and Dean, twisted together like that was all serenity you could relish on. You both quiet in the afterglow, his cock no longer hard but neither wanted to pull away. He laid his head on your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck. He certainly would bring you to a beach as soon as he could, maybe pop the pretty question on his knees there. For now, thought, he could enjoy thar simple moment.

‘’After my house was burned to the ground, I didn’t think I’d have another one. I was always rolling around the country, never really stayed in a place for too long. I didn’t want to call some random walls my home and have it destroyed in my face again.’’ Dean said, his thumbs caressing your thighs underwater. Since his first breath near you, he knew he was a goner. Even better, he knew he wasn’t a goner, a nomad, or a lonely wolf anymore. Dean Winchester once swore he would never come back home after what happened in there, and then you appeared. The hot latina who kept up with his stupidity and didn’t think twice before calling him out on his bullshit, and was always there for him and actually loved him-- not besides the job, but with all the things being a hunter included, all the ugly acts he had to go through. You believed he was good and worthy. His house burned, but you gave him a home. For the first time in so long, Dean felt warm and happy and loved. ‘’But you gave me a home. Without the apple pie life and all that. You, me, and Sammy-- fighting the good fight, just the three of us. This is my home.’’

To be a hunter was to be gauge of the deadliest trap ever laid, always carrying the heaviest cross ever made like a soldier’s duty that wouldn’t end with a couple years of trocious war. This treacherous slope was forevermore. A hunter life, all the fraunds and the paid phone calls and the running away with laughs empty of joy, the song from the wrong side of town. But fuck, all the saving and the excitment and the hustled love made a dance for the melody and suddenly it was worth it. All the tender parts, the new restaurants every week, the jokes in the car, the hidden chortles in the dark places. Sam. Dean. Dean and all this am out of love and loyalty he gave to you.

Everything was worth it to be in his arms.

He brought you back home.

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#dean winchester x reader #YASPOCREADERCHALLENGE #deanwanddamons2Kcelebration #dean winchester #dean x you #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader smut #supernatural #spn #dean winchester imagine #supernatural imagines #spn reader insert #dean winchester headcanon #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester x you

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wearenot7withu · 3 years ago

Text

The water drabbles i

pairing : jungkook x f!reader

genre : established!relationship, mostly fluff, slightly angst if you close your eyes

warning : the word fuck like once + mention of blowjob

word count : 1.5k

summary : You're back with your boyfriend as a lifeguard in your little town for another summer. This time however your insecurities are coming up to the surface.

a/n : it's summer again, I was at the thermal again and these two came to my mind so I wrote a little drabble thingy for them. Can be read as a standalone, but I recommend to read the original au, what you can do here. Don't forget to give feedback, they're always welcomed. Reblog, like, comment, do whatever your heart desires. I hope you'll like this little instalment in the wghb universe. Wish you a good day/night, love you xx

masterlist

It was a hot summer day again, with the temperature being so high, one could’ve probably cooked an egg on the pavement. With your red one-piece swimsuit on and the white baseball cap – which wasn’t yours but your boyfriend’s who is refusing to wear it – you were currently looking at the kid’s pool, where all the chaos has erupted today.

Just a moment ago, you saw a little girl turn upside down in the water, but her mother reacted quickly and pulled her out from under the water. A little guy probably pooped in his water-resistant diaper because his mother was making that face and tried to bribe him out from the pool. Then, these twins were afraid of the water but continued to dive under it nevertheless. However, your favourites seemed to be the triplets. One was sleeping in his mother’s arms, the other was trying to push his dad underwater, and the third was diving with her goggles on.

Even though it was loud, so you couldn’t hear your thoughts, something about the kid’s pool made you feel relaxed, maybe because this pool was the only where the kids had their parents with them, whose eyes were looking at over their children like a hunter when studying its prey.

“Y/n, can you please go pick up our lunch?” Mei, your lifeguard partner for today, asked you, and even though she was next to you, she was shouting as if you were in a club. You nodded your head and made your way towards Ricki’s bar, where yours and all the lifeguards’ meals were made. But before you went there, you stopped at the Laguna pool, where Jungkook, your boyfriend, was on duty.

He had his red swimming trunk and white sleeveless top on, which made both his thighs and arm muscles visible for everyone. The waves were currently on, so all the youngsters acted like grown-ups, swimming closer and closer to the wave-making machine. Therefore your boyfriend stood with his hands on his hip and whistle in his mouth, blowing it every other second. This pool was the calmest when it wasn’t show-time because of its cold temperature, but the pool turned into a circus when it was the waves time to shine.

You walked up to Taehyung, who was guarding the life of those who wanted to swim. “How many minutes left?”

He looked at his watch on his wrist. “Like four” So you sat next to him and waited for the main attraction to pass.

You know your boyfriend takes his job genuinely because the first time he saw you was only after the waves stopped, even though you were practically sitting in front of him for minutes. “Hi, baby” He gave a quick peck on your lips, which you received happily. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m going to get our lunch with Mei. Do you want to come with me?” The reply came quickly, and after saying bye to Taehyung, you walked away hand in hand with the boy next to you.

On the way there, he successfully convinced you to eat your lunch with him at the bar. While he asked for the four serving – two in containers and two on plates – you searched for an available spot. “How are the little devils?” Asked Jungkook while putting your lunch down in front of you.

“I don’t know why you hate them,” You said with your mouth already full of French fries.

“Because they’re loud,” He said matter of factly.

“What will you do if you have your own child? Are you going to hate them just because they’re loud?” You stole some baked potatoes from his plate and dipped them in the hot sauce on the side of it.

“They won’t be loud. They’d have us as their parents.” The fact that he referred to you as the mother of his kids made your heart swell, and your eyes soften. No matter how long you were together, how good you are together, and how you plan on having him next to you for the rest of your life, you never dare to think too far away in fear of something not going as you planned for yourself and your relationship with him.

“Honey”, You called out to him, putting your palm on the back of his hand, stopping it to bring the food to his mouth “, You would be their father. They’d be the loudest kids in the whole country.”

He throws one baked potato at you, but his smile was undeniably on his face. “You’re lucky I love you.”

You put your hand dramatically on your heart, acting like he just said something which made you surprised. “You do? I had no idea.”

He rolled his eyes at your actions. “Put your mouth to a better use and eat your food.”

You gasped at his words and aggressively put a french fry in your mouth, but one corner of your lips was tugging upward, and you were so hard on suppressing the smile that was forming on your face.

“By the way, don’t look at me like that when I’m talking about our future and kids”, Jungkook casually told you, and you choked on your water. With your eyes wide open, you looked at him, not knowing how to react to that. “I’ve been dating you for years. What do you think, why am I still with you?”

He continued eating, not even looking at you, and after the years you’ve been with him, you know, this is him making a serious talk seem as it’s not bothering him. “I don’t know, the apartment we live in is cheaper like this,” You said, trying to light up the mood with a joke, but he just - finally - looked up at you with a piercing gaze. You sighed, knowing you won’t climb out of this hole easily. “It’s not that, and I know you love me just like I love you. And I also picture my life with you, I wouldn’t be here with you if I wasn’t. It’s just – “

You took a deep breath, looking everywhere but Jungkook because you didn’t know how to compose what you want to say or how to make your insecurities not get the better of you. Jungkook sensed your panicked state and took your hands in his, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumbs. “I’m not forcing you to talk. We can discuss this when you’re ready. Just know that I’m here.”

“I know. Fuck, I know. I’m just scared because I want the whole ordeal with you, you know. Marrying you, having kids with you, the entire process of growing old with you and sitting in the hammock in our backyard with our grandchildren playing around, but then I have these thoughts on how this could all end. Because who are we to control our feelings and what if one day you wake up and you’re– “ Your tears were threatening to fall at this point. You were surprised you could go this long actually talking about this issue. “I don’t know, feel like you had enough, or that you’re not in l –“

“Stop, stop, stop,” Jungkook said with a stern voice, making you halt in your rambling. “That’s not going to happen. Not now, not ever. I love you. I want you. We live together, and our friends are already saying we’re like a married couple. And to be honest, it’s true. You are my soulmate, the one for me — the only one for all of my remaining days on Earth. So don’t worry what the future brings, because I’ll be next to you every step of the road. Got it?” You nodded your head, tears streaming rapidly down your face. “Now come ‘ere” He pushed his chair further from the table and opened his arms wide. You didn’t waste a second, falling into his arms immediately. Hiding your face in his neck, inhaling his rosy scents mixed with the chlorine from the poolside made you calm down within minutes. His hand was drawing different shapes on your tighs, while the other going up and down on your back.

After you’ve calmed down and eaten your lunches, you two went back to your places, bringing your partners their long-awaited lunch.

Jungkook made sure you were alright, so that night, when he dropped you off at your parent’s house, he told you to be ready in an hour because he’s taking you on a date. He recreated his first official date with you at the park, where he rented a little boat, and you two paddled to the middle of the lake and watched the stars cuddled up to each other.

You didn’t want the night to end, so this time the date didn’t end with him dropping you off and awkwardly kissing you on your cheek, but him sleeping over at your house and waking him up with the best blowjob he got in his life from you so far.

#jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook drabble #jungkook fluff

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fandom-imagines-stories · 4 years ago

Text

365

Season Two Premier

Dean Winchester x Reader

Words: 2385

Masterlist

Summary: At peace with her family, Amara gives Dean a reunion he was never expecting. But Mary isn't the only one she brought back. Now two women must adjust to being in the land of the living, one having been gone for 33 years, and the other having spent the past 365 in hell.

Notes: I told you I had something planned! Let me know if you’ve missed this series and if you're happy to see more. Responses mean the world.

Amara looked at each picture curiously. She saw Dean as a young boy, smiling brightly in the arms of his mother. The woman that started it all. Her death put him on this course. This painful, dark journey. Amara set the picture aside, noticing something shine from the back of the drawer.

She took out a small tin box. Inside were more photographs. Amara examined one in particular. It was Dean leaning over the hood of his car. Around his waist were the arms of a laughing woman. He had a glint in his eyes that Amara hadn’t seen. It was then that she understood. Dean would never be with her. He could never join her in her new world. His heart was far, far away. Perhaps she could bring it back to him.

Mary couldn’t get her out of her head. That woman. Who was she? She had looked at her… like she knew her.

“You okay, mom?” Sam asked, noticing the far off look in her eyes. She had been acting strange, but that was, of course, understandable. She just came back from the dead, for Chuck’s sake. She gave her youngest a small smile.

“Yeah, I’m just daydreaming, I guess.” She glanced around the kitchen, noticing an absence. “Where’s Dean?”

“He’s probably going to spend the day in his room.” Sam sighed deeply. “Today is a sort of anniversary for him.”

“Anniversary? For what?” From the look on her son’s face, it couldn’t be good. Sam sat down and motioned for her to join him.

“A few years ago- three, to be exact- we lost someone. Dean lost someone.” He clasped his hands together on the table. The wound of losing one of his closest friends had healed some, but it still stung. Especially today. “He loved her. And she loved him. Maybe too much.” He shook his head. It felt like so long ago.

“Dean found someone?” Mary smiled slightly. She had hoped her boys had been loved by someone, since she wasn’t there. Sam nodded.

“Yeah, yeah he did.” He tried not to get choked up, but remembering still pained his heart. And for Dean… After losing Jessica, Sam wouldn’t wish that pain on anyone. His brother had shouldered it for the past three years, accepting little to no help. He never even talked about her.

“What happened?” Mary asked softly. Sam opened his mouth to answer, but he didn’t get the chance.

“She died.” Dean said, having appeared in the doorway without them noticing. He crossed the kitchen and poured himself some coffee before joining them at the table. “Three years ago today.”

Mary didn’t know what to say. She had more questions, but it didn’t seem like the time to ask them. Sam and Dean both looked… broken. All she could do was offer some kind of comfort. She put a hand on top of each of theirs.

“I’m sorry.”

Dean looked into her eyes and she looked into his. They weren’t the same eyes of her bright little boy. They held so much pain, so much loss. She had to tear her gaze away.

She had only been back for about a week and everything was so overwhelming. She should have been there for them. She should have made sure that they never had to feel this pain. She never wanted them to be hunters. She just wanted them to be boys.

Dean finished his coffee and retreated to his room. Sam looked like he wanted to say something, but he just sat in uncomfortable silence. Mary’s heart ached. She just wanted them to be boys.

He should be used to losing people by now. In three years, he should have gotten over it. Losing you. But even now, the image of your last smile as the hell hound tore away your flesh was burned into his brain. He would never forget. He opened the drawer of his desk and found the small tin box.

A quiet knock caught his attention and he turned to see his mother in his doorway. She gave him a small smile.

“Can I come in?” He nodded in reply and she sat on the edge of his bed. For a moment, she didn’t have the courage to say anything. How would he react? Would he get upset and make her leave? Or would he close up and not say a word? Maybe, hopefully, he would talk to her. He could make her forget how much she had missed. “Can you…” She paused, waiting for a sign to continue. Dean looked at her expectantly. “Can you tell me about her? I know you probably don’t want to talk about her, I just-”

“It’s okay.” He sighed, putting a hand on top of the box on the desk. “Sam’s always saying that if I talk about her, it keeps her alive in a weird, hippy sense of the word.” He shook his head to himself. Mary watched him carefully, making sure she didn’t push any boundaries.

“What was she like?” Dean thought for a moment.

“Stubborn.” He chuckled deeply. “If she thought she was right, you’d never get her to budge and she always thought she was right. God, the fights we used to get into…” He paused, recalling a few in particular. “She had a big heart and wasn’t afraid to show it. She was tough and smart and funny and beautiful. Best damn pool hustler I’ve ever seen. That’s actually how we met.”

Dean leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He ran a hand over his face, trying to hold back tears.

“How long were you together?” Mary wondered. He wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was staring off into memories.

“Four years.” He answered quietly. “She- uh- she was there for me when Sam…” This was more than he was ready to talk about with her. How was he supposed to tell his mother that her sons have been to hell? How did he tell her that Y/N was there because of him? He forced his shoulders back and sat up straighter. “Anyway, um, this-” He passed Mary the box of photos. “This is her.”

Mary opened the tin slowly, peering down at the photographs with a sad curiosity. As she looked through them, her expression changed. She selected one that gave her a clear view of the woman’s face. She was smiling, a beer in hand and a bright glint in her eyes. Dean was beside her, staring at the woman like she was the only thing in the world. Mary’s eyes widened and Dean noticed her body language shift.

“What is it?”

“Dean I…” Mary was hesitant, but she knew without a doubt that she was right. “I’ve seen her before.” Dean’s brows knitted together.

“What?”

“I know this girl.”

“Mom, that-” Dean sighed, “That isn’t possible. You died before Y/N was three.” Mary handed him the picture.

“I saw her, Dean.” She insisted.

The two stared at each other. Mother and son. Dean broke his gaze first.

“I think Sam needs help in the library.” He said, his voice becoming flat and emotionless. “Please go.”

“Dean-”

“Mom.” He stared at the wall, his command firm. “Please, just… I need some time alone.”

Mary didn’t say anything else. She put the pictures back in the box and tried to hand it back to him. When he didn’t make any move to take it, she set in on the desk and left.

Dean resisted the urge to throw the box across the room. The metal was already dented and battered from other fits throughout the years. Dean just kept his eyes trained on the ground, wrapping his head around his mother’s words. She was wrong. It couldn’t have been Y/N. It just couldn’t.

One Week Ago

“Mary?” You gasped, gaping at the woman across from you. Everything was dark, clouds of black surrounding you from every angle. Through the darkness, you could see a woman you only knew from pictures. A woman that had been dead for over 30 years, or at least she was when you were still on earth. You were surprised you still remembered.

“Who are you? Where am I?” She asked, eyes wide with uncertain panic. Before you could answer, you felt something pulling you further into the darkness, yanking Mary back in the other direction.

When you opened your eyes, you were staring at the sky. The real sky. The night sky stretched out, stars shining brightly down at you. So bright you had to shield your eyes. Your skin pricked with every movement. You were cold. You were naked and you were cold.

You stood slowly, your legs barely able to hold yourself up. The night air sent goosebumps up your bare arms and legs. The dead grass crunched under your feet and you took a deep breath.

“Very funny, Levina.” You called into the night. This wasn’t the first time the demon had tried to trick you, made you believe that you were free only to pull you back into your torment. “You must be running out of ideas.” You crossed your arms over your chest to try and stay warm. There was no answer. “Levina!”

“You aren’t in hell anymore.” A voice startled you. You whirled around to see a woman in a black dress looking at you curiously. “Surely, you can tell the difference.”

“Who are you? What do you want?” You took a defensive stance, backing away as she stepped forward.

“I’m the one that lifted you from your torment.” She said it like it was obvious. “You’re free now.”

“You think I’m going to fall for that again?” You scoffed. “You must be getting a little rusty, Lavina. Have to say, I like this face more than the old one.”

“My name is Amara. We have a friend in common.”

“Let me guess; Lucifer? Well tell the dark lord if he’s up for round two, I can handle-”

“Dean Winchester.” She interrupted, making you shut up. “He misses you. I want to give you back to him.”

“Why the hell should I believe you?” You growled. “Dean doesn’t even remember me.”

“You’re wrong.” She shook her head. This time, when she stepped towards you, you let her. “I can’t erase what they did to you in hell, but I can assure you that you are no longer in their grasp. Find Dean.” With that, she just vanished. Poof. Gone.

You didn’t have many options, so you just walked. You found a road and mindlessly walked beside it. Every step ached. You had numbed yourself for so long that every gust of wind felt like a thousand tiny needles stabbing your flesh. You weren’t sure if you were capable of feeling anything else. Only pain.

Headlights drew closer and closer, quickly joined by flashing blues and reds. You didn’t stop walking even when you heard the car door open and close.

“Ma’am are you alright?” The police officer’s voice cut through the night, but you barely heard it. Your ears just kept ringing with the sound of your own screams. You stopped and turned around. The woman was approaching you slowly with a look of sympathetic concern. Being naked and wide-eyed, it wasn’t hard to read her thoughts. But she had no idea the depth of violation you’d been through. You took a heaving breath.

“I need to find Dean Winchester.”

Now

“Dean!” Sam called, knocking on his older brother’s bedroom door. “Dean, we need to talk.”

“Sam, not now.” Dean groaned, opening the door just enough to give him a glare. “I really don’t want to talk or deal with any of your other hippy healing crap.”

“It’s Jody.” Sam pushed inside without giving him time to object. “She said she needs us in Sioux Falls right away.”

“Did she say why?”

“No, but she sounded pretty freaked. Apparently, she’s been trying to get a hold of us for a while, but things kept coming up or we weren’t answering.” Sam sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

“To be fair, our mom came back from the dead and you were being tortured by that British bitch.” Dean countered, feeling guilty for ignoring Jody’s calls. “What did you tell her?”

“That we’ll be there before morning.”

Dean nodded in agreement.

“I’ll pack a bag, you tell mom we’re leaving.”

“I think she should stay here.” Sam suggested, keeping his voice down like it was a secret. Dean gave him a strange look.

“What? Why?”

“She needs to adjust, Dean. Maybe giving her just a few days to herself here in the bunker will help her do that. Besides, we don’t know what’s going on and it could be dangerous and I…” He sighed. “I just don’t think she needs any more excitement right now.” Dean thought for a moment before he nodded.

“Alright, tell her that we’ll hopefully be back in a few days and that she can call us or Jody if she needs anything.”

By the time the two brothers got packed up and ready to go, a dark feeling had settled deep inside Dean’s chest. Something felt off. It sunk into his lungs and into throat, as if a shadow was trying to strangle him. When Sam climbed into the passenger seat, his brother looked white as a sheet.

“You okay?” Sam wondered, half tempted to ask if he should drive, but he didn’t want to get punched.

“Something about this feels wrong, Sam.” Dean muttered, shaking his head as he started the car.

“What, do you think it’s a trap?” It wasn’t totally out of the realm of possibility. With the British Men of Letters and Lucifer out there, it wouldn’t be that shocking that someone was out to get them. But Dean shook his head.

“I don’t know what it is, but with the buckets of crazy we’ve been through, I don’t think it’s good.” The two let that sink in, pulling out onto the road. Hoping to distract himself, Dean switched on the radio. Both brothers froze as the beginning words made Dean grip the steering wheel. Chuck sure had a cruel sense of humor on today of all days.

Sister Christian, oh the time has come…

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

Supernatural: @desimarie12; @deandreamernp; @vicmc624; @halesandy; @livshaes; @d-whinchestergirl87; @mrspeacem1nusone

The Deal Series: @writeroutoftime

#dean winchester x reader #the deal #supernatural series #supernatural imagines #mary winchester #lucifer #amara #sam winchester #dean winchester #jensen ackles #jared padelecki #castiel #season two baby

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bridgyrose · 3 years ago

Note

Heya, it been awhile XD

As always, I've been enjoying your fluffy snippets, but if you're up for some angst...

Ruby is a newly graduated Huntress following up on a child trafficking ring in Mistral m, which ends up taking her to Atlas. There she stays at 'The Glass Unicorn' and meets a maid called 'Cinder'. A woman who has long given up on her freedom and what it means to be a Huntress...

Otherwise, if you're still enjoying the fluffy side of things, some fluffy BeesSchnees is always good XD

Ruby sighed as she looked between a paper in her hand and to the hotel standing in front of her. For a moment, she was a bit confused on what The Glass Unicorn had to do with any sort of child trafficking ring. However, the name of the woman who owned this place came up more than once on the ledgers of that old barn. And if she wanted answers, she was going to need to start her.

Rain started to pour from the sky as Ruby walked into the hotel, pausing for a moment as she felt out of place. Sure, there were hunters and huntresses from all over, but even for Atlas standards, this place was higher end. Everywhere she looked, all she saw was an excuse for wealth to be displayed. Once she regained her composure, she walked up to the front desk. “I need a room.”

The blonde woman looked Ruby over for a moment before noticing it was a huntress in front of her. With a few quick clicks on her keyboard, a card popped out of her computer. “Room 402. Meals will be brought straight to your room. And dont bother talking to the staff.”

Ruby looked at her curiously as she took the card. “Why not?”

The woman looked directly into Ruby’s eyes. “Its not their job to talk to anyone.”

Ruby sighed and put the card in her pocket, turning to start heading up the stairs. She looked around as she walked, all the patrons seeming to enjoy everything the hotel offered. It all reminded her of why she was doing this: to try to make the world a better place. And right now, Atlas was not that better place.

Ruby watched a few of the staff bring out meals to the patrons, along with anything else they needed or cleaned up any messes that were made. The longer she watched, the less convinced she became that this hotel was going to be the link to this ring. Everything she found always became a dead end and this last lead of hers seemed to be no different.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

Ruby looked up at the third floor, watching one of the patrons yelling at one of the maids. She tried to get a better look, making her way to the stairs on the opposite side as she watched the maid drop to the ground to pick up the food that fell on the ground.

“I’m sorry, I didnt mean to-”

“Didnt mean to what? Give lousy service?” The patron spat at the maid, pushing past her and knocking her over. “Lousy maid bringing over half cooked food…”

Ruby watched the maid move her hair out of her face as she started to scrub, hearing a small sigh escape from the girl. She felt sorry for the girl, walking over to her. “Ah… miss… I was hoping I could ask you something.”

The maid didnt look up, seemingly avoiding eye contact with Ruby. “I-I’ll make sure your room is cleaned once I’m finished here.”

Ruby knelt down and picked up some of the fruit that had spilled. “That’s not what I was going to ask about. I was hoping you might be able to answer a few questions I have about this place.”

The maid stopped and slowly looked up at Ruby with tired eyes. “Y-you’re a huntress…”

“I am. What is your name?”

“Cinder.”

Ruby smiled and extended a hand to Cinder. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Cinder smiled for a moment, then it quickly disappeared as she quickly started to work again, keeping her head low. “I’m… I’m not allowed to talk to you. Please, go to your room and I’ll bring you your meal.”

Ruby was about to speak until she heard a voice coming from behind her.

“Cinder, you’re needed in the kitchen.”

Ruby watched as Cinder stood up and started hurrying off past her, making her way downstairs. “Do your staff always get treated like this?”

The woman from the front desk stood behind Ruby, shaking her head. “Only that one. She’s a bit of a… problem. The only reason I dont fire her is because she’s one of my daughters. She knows she’s only to be seen, not heard. I’ll make sure she wont bother you again.”

Ruby watched the woman turn around and head back downstairs towards the kitchen after Cinder. At this rate, even if this ended up as a dead end with the trafficking ring, then maybe there was something else that she could fix.

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

Cinder winced a bit as she brought a tray to room 402, doing her best to keep from moving the collar that was around her neck. Everytime she messed up, all she could feel was that familiar sting. And every time, it hurt. She adjusted a small cloth she had around her neck, hiding the scars from the collar. She quietly knocked on the door, praying that whoever was in this room wasnt going to treat her like the rest of the patrons did.

Ruby slowly opened the door and smiled a bit at Cinder. “I was wondering when you’d come around.”

Cinder looked away a bit, holding out a tray to Ruby and staying quiet. The pain from her last punishment still lingered around, and she was terrified to be caught talking to anyone now.

Ruby noticed and sighed, taking the tray. “If you’re not going to talk right now, then maybe you can help me out with a few things in my room. There’s a few spots that could use a bit of cleaning.”

Cinder nodded and slowly walked into the room, pausing once she saw Ruby’s weapon laying down on a table. It wasnt the first time she had seen a hunter’s weapon within easy grabbing, and wasnt the first time she had the desire to reach out for it.

Ruby noticed and walked over, picking up her weapon and smiling a bit. “Like weapons too? You can hold her if you’d like.”

Cinder hesitated for a moment, wanting to reach towards the weapon. She stopped half way and sighed and she pulled her hand back. “I… cant.”

“Why not?”

Cinder didnt answer, looking away from Ruby. She didnt know how to tell a huntress that she had to get away from her family. That she’d do anything if it meant not being with them anymore.

Ruby sighed and sat Crescent Rose down. “You… wanted to be a huntress at one point, didnt you?”

Cinder froze on the spot. The thought had occurred to her, and there was that one huntsman, Rhodes, who taught her a few things, but he disappeared when she was younger. “Y-yes… but its… more than that…”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

Cinder looked around nervously before pulling down the cloth around her neck and pulling up the sleeves of her outfit. Scars lined her wrists while one scar circled her neck exactly where her necklace, the collar she wore, sat.

Ruby frowned when she saw the scars on Cinder, picking up her weapon and heading out of the room. “Stay here.”

Cinder nodded and sat down, terrified about what was going to happen. She had spent years trying to figure out how to get away from the madam, but all of her attempts at obtaining a weapon to get away had failed. And now, an actual huntress had seen the marks that had been left, the reminders of each of her failures on running away, each mistake she had made while working.

It wasnt long before Cinder heard muffled shouts from outside the room, her sisters and the madam clearly angry at Ruby. She cowered a bit, thinking she knew exactly what to expect: Ruby was going to let the madam in just like everyone else. She’d believe the lies that were told, that she was a troubled child that was taken in by the gratitude of the madam’s heart, that she was a thief and a liar that everyone had to keep an eye on. Even after the shouts died down, she still waited, flinching as she watched the door open.

Ruby rushed into the room, blood dripping from her scythe as she grabbed her things. “Cinder, you’re coming with me.”

Cinder felt a bit confused, hesitating for a moment. “You… want me to come with you?”

“Well, currently you’re unemployed and have nowhere to go. You can either stay here in Atlas, maybe find your way down to Mantle and find a job, or you can come with me and I can help you become a huntress. I can at least teach you how to defend yourself and others from the grimm, maybe even help you take the exam for your hunter’s license. Give you a new start.”

Cinder was still a bit confused, but followed after Ruby, pausing as she saw the madam laying on the ground in a pool of her own blood. “You killed her…”

Ruby sighed as she kept walking. “She attacked me first. I thought all of this was going to be a dead end, but it seems like I ended up on the right track after all. I know you were bought through a child trafficking ring, and I know you’re not the only one she had purchased. If you can help me get a bit more proof, I think I can put an end to this. I know its a bit late and there isnt much I can do about what had happened to you, but I can at least help you with your new freedom now.”

Cinder sped up to catch up to Ruby, sticking close to her. “But why help me? I’m… I’m just a nobody. A kid that was sold into this life. I dont deserve any kindness.”

“Because if I cant help someone, then what’s the point of being a huntress?” Ruby stopped for a moment, pulling out her scroll and holding it up to Cinder to take a picture. “And besides, the world is already cruel enough. I think its time we try to make it a better place.”

#ruby rose #rwby ruby rose #cinder fall #drabbles #angst #angsty drabbles #self harm #tw self harm

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urban-witch101 · 4 years ago

Text

(Byakuya Togami x Reader? That's how this idea started.) - Danganronpa 1 Ghost AU - "They Failed."

Oh it's as funky as it sounds. Just trust me on this one. Also, big fat Trigger Warning for assault, s3xual assault, murder, and angst.

Hope's Peak Academy is reportedly the most haunted high school in Japan. After the Most Tragic Incident the world had ever seen, the class of 78 was forced into a recorded killing game run by their fellow classmates Junko Enoshima and Mukuro Ikusaba and failed to survive. The Future Foundation, after eventually beating Despair and restoring peace to the world, established the high school as a National Monument to the pain and suffering of the students and turned it into a museum recording the history.

There are too many stories of the passed students to count, some from construction workers and some from ghost hunters. These are their sightings.

============================================

Yasuhiro Hagakure is reportedly the most active ghost, which makes sense as the Ultimate Clairvoyant.

He tends to greet visitors at the entrance.

If you drop your hat or gloves and don't notice, you'll find them by the coat rack later for you to find.

Children tend to see him the most, or they hear a whispered joke in their ear if they're particularly upset at any of the Despair history.

He doesn't tend to interact with adults a lot, but he's known to follow the descendants of all their relatives or friends to make sure they're okay.

10/10 ghost, very friendly and a chill dude. Makes sure kids are okay.

Toko Fukawa is rarely seen or heard, but if she's there you know.

She hangs out in the bathrooms with the most common sightings being in the mirrors.

She's often found playing with her braids or grimacing at guests if there are a lot of people.

The friendliest sighting was when a child got lost and found their way to the women's bathroom.

When the panicked mother finally found them, their child was calm and content while playing with a stuffed toy they know they didn't bring.

When the child was guided to leave, they turned and waved goodbye to the mirror.

8/10, antisocial but harmless.

Genocider Syo is extremely active.

She likes pulling pranks on tall, skinny men, like throwing their wallets across the room and pinching their elbows.

If said men are blonde with blue eyes, they will tend to feel watched whenever the enter the building and will continue to think so until they leave.

Children tend to be scared of her, but if she sees a scared child she'll tend to leave the room so they're more comfortable.

She likes knocking over stuff, books and coffee mugs in particular.

However, if the staff scold her she'll knock it off.

She never knocks over artifacts, but people have seen her scissors rattle in their case.

8/10, harmless prankster.

Leon Kuwata can be found in the First-Floor Dorms.

People report hearing guitar strings playing in the boys bathrooms.

If someone mentions baseball around his dorm, mirrors and glass will crack or straight up shatter.

Paranormal investigators once spent the night in his old room, but they "forgot" to take off their shoes and slept above the covers.

They woke up with a blanket that hadn't been in the room covering them and their shoes neatly placed by the side of the door.

That same investigator used a Spirit Box to try and talk to him about what happened in the school.

Of course their older generations saw what happened live, but they never spoke of it.

"Do you have anything you need to say?"

"I'm so sorry."

6/10, ow.

Hifumi Yamada can be found in the kiln room in the Art Studio.

People hear camera clicks, as if he's still taking pictures.

Pencils will roll when the floor is completely flat.

He likes messing with the kiln and knocking off the hammers.

He loves playing the flashlight game.

If anyone mentions Celestia Ludenburg, people swear the room falls into a heavy and tense silence.

When everyone leaves the kiln, they feel his conflicting pain.

Anger? Sadness? They don't know. He's still grieving.

6/10, more ow.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru is silent unless he needs to talk.

He only talks if you do something wrong.

He doesn't play any of the games.

If you run in the museum, people swear they hear a loud voice telling them to stop.

If the staff breaks the rules at all, they straight up get smacked in the shoulder.

Groups of friends, particularly men, feel very welcome in his dorm room.

They all leave after a friendly, invisible squeeze is given to them on the arm.

6/10, he'll never change.

Mondo Owada has one reported sighting.

When construction to restore the building was going on, there was an incident between a worker and a girl on the street one afternoon.

He took her behind the building and attempted to hurt her.

A man in a Crazy Diamond gang jacket, which it should be noted that it doesn't exist anyore, pulled him off and hit him with a pick axe.

After the assaulter was unconscious, her savior didn't say a word; he looked at the girl up and down, presumably checking her for injuries, and passed her a card with a phone number before nodding to her and walking off.

It was the local s3xual assault line, which had been established only two years prior.

After she called the number, she was never able to find the card again.

She didn't even put two and two together until she visited the finished museum and saw Mondo's picture.

No one has ever seen him since.

10/10, badass.

Sayaka Maizono is in one of the boy's bathrooms in the dorms.

Visitors report feeling unnerved or even scared when they enter the bathroom.

She will not interact with you.

She doesn't like playing any of the games. Do not turn on the spirit box in her bathroom, the shower glass will crack.

One investigator decided to spend the night in the bedroom and turned on the shower in the morning.

When they got out, there was a message written in the fog on the mirror.

"LEON."

1/10, no fucking thank you.

Aoi Asahina hangs around the pool room.

She's reportedly like Hiro.

She's been seen walking the halls everywhere.

Children love visiting the pool room. They tend to feel excited and safe.

At night you can hear the pool splashing when no one is inside.

She has one recorded incident.

A child brought a small bag of donut holes to snack on.

Said child began to complain that "the air" kept pulling the donut holes out of his hands.

So they ran an experiment.

They dropped one on purpose and watched it roll away towards the pool room. After that, they didn't feel anymore pulls.

Now it's a tradition to leave a donut for her on Obon by the pool room or her dorm room.

Staff report donuts pulling themselves apart to share. If staff take a half that is offered, the treats are always gone by the next morning.

9/10, a whole mood.

Chihiro Fujisaki is relatively quiet.

They can be found in the boy's locker rooms by the pool.

People will smell a slight perfume over the chlorine.

Muscular men in particular will feel an odd sense of guilt when entering.

There was a guest, who was a muscular man, who took out their phone to record the room and listened back to it to find bits and pieces of the audio were gone.

They took it to a friend who deciphered it into a message in Morse code.

"I forgive you."

9/10, holy ow.

Celestia Ludenburg is only active in the kitchen.

Investigators have put on a full pot of tea water with no heat on the stove.

If they leave and come back, they'll find the pot whistling with the heat still off. The water is always the perfect temperature.

She is never active at night.

She'll only use the spirit box on Obon, but you have to make her a cup of milk tea first.

She's very picky about it.

There was one who got it right on the first try.

"Well finally," the box picked up. "Have some."

She will share details only she would know.

"I don't want to be rude, but do you have any regrets?"

A moment of silence. The cup on the table left for her shakes for just a moment.

"I have too many."

6/10, talkative but be careful.

Kyoko Kirigiri has never talked, but you'll hear her.

Staff will hear her heels clicking in the halls at night.

She likes writing in people's notebooks.

Random strangers will enter with an empty pocketbook and leave with a full one.

She loves to write.

She tells her side of the story.

If the mirrors ever fog up, she's there scratching out letters and numbers.

She also turns on the coffee pot in the kitchen.

Intuitive teenagers tend to know when she's there because they feel safer in rooms that people normally aren't comfortable in.

She writes clues to all the murders that she was never able to solve.

She's not done yet. She's made it very clear that she is not at peace.

9/10, talkative and informative.

Sakura Ogami is said to be hanging around in the recreational room where she committed suicide.

Children feel safe in there, but they never play with the old equipment.

There is an unspoken rule among them that they all know and have never discussed as soon as they walk in.

Some thrill-seekers sit in her chair.

They report feeling their head throbbing and intense nausea, some even passing out from the pain.

They also report intense guilt.

One child sat in the seat without thinking about it and they reported being fine but feeling a little sad.

She plays the flashlight game with investigators, but only if they're nice.

One turned on a spirit box and gave her a cup of tea on Obon.

"Thank you."

8/10, don't sit in her fucking chair you dumbass.

Mukuro Ikusaba is heard rarely.

Like Mondo, she has one reported calling.

In the gym, late at night, you can hear a quiet sobbing.

Children will hear a crying girl in their head:

"I didn't want this."

3/10, how is this even more ow.

Junko Enoshima is heard in the execution room.

Staff used to think there were multiple ghosts in there, but it turns out it's just her.

She laughs, cries, and shrieks.

The story is that she killed herself with her own executions after succeeding in the killing game.

At night investigators play the flashlight game with her.

Every visitor is always unnerved by her.

There is an unspoken bitterness towards her.

She doesn't deserve her success.

0/10, scary bitch.

Makoto Naegi is seen everywhere.

The Ultimate Lucky Student loves telling his story.

He's seen in windows and mirrors with his hoodie and a warm smile.

He's always kind and welcoming.

People leave him popular snacks at his dorm room on Obon.

He never speaks, he just likes watching everyone learn about them.

If children ever get lost he leads them back to their parents.

They'll always tell their family about the "nice boy with brown hair" who takes their hand gently and leads them to safety.

He feels a duty to protect the staff. They never feel alone at night. He's always there to keep them safe.

The descendant of Komaru Naegi, who happened to be a paranormal investigator, once spent the night in his old dorm room.

She reported hearing quiet crying and sniffling that morning before she opened her eyes and was flooded with a sense of relief.

Oh thank god, she was okay.

10/10, heart of gold.

Byakuya Togami is seen in one room and one room only.

He is the only one that people regularly see in the flesh as a full figure.

He's sitting in the library, reading a murder mystery novel.

He has never acknowledged any of the guests, except for one.

A small child, a descendant of Togami's old butler, gently knocked on the table to get his attention and waved politely. They thought he was a staff member.

He looked up at them, gave a little wave back, and went back to his book.

When they turned away and looked back, he was gone.

Staff will see him walking back to his room when the museum is closing up.

He's snobby, sure, but he has his manners. He won't purposefully get in the way of the staff.

9/10, super chill.

???

There is an unknown ghost that has one known/recorded interaction.

One night a paranormal investigator spent the night exploring the building.

They walked in the library to see Togami with a book and a lamp on that was previously off.

They nodded at him politely and went to the bookshelves to "find a book". They turned on a spirit box and stayed quiet.

The library door opened and closed.

They hear a passing conversation.

"Hello love."

A kiss, presumably on the knuckles.

"How was today?"

"Tiring", says a voice. "Lot of cleaning. Did you get any visitors?"

A chuckle. "Too many. I think they can see me."

"Probably."

A pause.

"Togami?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think they'll ever figure out what really happened here?"

Hesitance. "For their sake, I hope not."

============================================

Feedback would be lovely. Thank you for your time!

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hope-to-hell · 4 years ago

Text

I swear this was supposed to be biting for @septicace-writes but once again nothing went to plan. And Then There Were Four. Smut, multiple partners, oral, anal, restraints, fingering, public sex (fingering). It’s nice to bring someone in to play, once in a while. This one took twice as long to write but it has twice as much smut. “Put these on” is lifted directly from Night Hunter, in a scene that haunts my dreams.

———

This is Walter in the wild woods with the smell of pine clinging to his coat; these are his footprints in the luminous snow and the way he tracks your steps. This is him breathing winter chill into his lungs, trying to breathe slow, trying to calm the rabbiting of his heart.

(This is the signal)

Walter is a hunter by nature if not by trade; he sees everything and if he chooses the path of gentleness it is a true credit to him because he sees weakness everywhere and it would be so easy to exploit it.

(This is the memory)

And when he found you crouching in the snow and said I’ve got you he showed those sharp teeth, smiling like he could smell your need across the clearing; when he had his way with you against a tree it was with your legs wrapped tight around his waist and your yes, more, harder in his ear.

(This is a false lead; this isn’t the point of the story and you know it. The point is the first meeting, the one at the diner, the one where Walter slid his handcuffs across the table and said the words that reached right up to grip you by your cunt:

Put these on.)

And by the time the newcomer arrives you’re already pooling wetness on the vinyl seat, arms behind, cuffs hidden by Walter’s jacket draped over your shoulders. Walter’s gaze is heavy like a blanket; there’s an amused little twist to his lips when the guy says Syverson and moves to shake your hand. And oh,

That little moment when he realizes why you aren’t responding is a revelation; his eyes blow black with lust in half a moment, as he slides into the booth to cage you in. And Walt won’t ask but if he did you’d acquiesce; you would absolutely and unquestionably let this stranger bend you over the table and fuck you raw right here.

(You remember that foreman who let us in the other night? Well. I need to thank him properly. I was planning on bringing him a case of beer, but I thought I’d offer him to you first. You know he’s interested.

You mean—

If you want. I think you’d like him. Thick, hairy, working man’s hands.

What about Mike? Is he—

Mike looks up from typing and smiles his fallen angel’s smile, luminous in the glow of the screen. Babe, I’m really fucking into it. And I could use the inspiration.

Then yes, fuck yes. Share me out, I want it and I trust you. Absolutely)

Call me Sy, he says, and that drawl of his is sweet; you can picture him forming words against your slit, syrup-slow and hot with need. I’m pleased to meet you and he’s on his best behavior, not even touching til Walter gives the word. Then those thick fingers are creeping up your thigh under your skirt, past those ruined panties to where you wait for him, hot and wet and wanting.

Status, sweetheart.

Green, sir.

Then, at your leisure, Sy. Finger her for me. Make her come right here at the table. And you’ll be quiet for him, won’t you, sweetheart? The only words I want to hear from you til we get home are your signals if you need them, or if I ask you directly to speak.

That’s the game and it’s a good one; even at this angle Sy knows what he’s about, knows how to curl his fingers up and forward to find that spongy patch inside you. Never had an audience before, but I’d have to say I like it.

(Is he thick? Is he cut? Is he—

He’s clean, sweetheart, and kind. And if he lets you on his cock I’ll have you give a full report.)

There’s that spiraled thread uncoiling in your belly, shining and thick with need; Sy’s hand on you is unrelenting, fingers pressing firm and you’re so good, so good, sweetheart, don’t hold back when you feel it. I can see it in your face, you’re nearly there. And oh Walter’s voice is soothing, though it’s coming from a face that looks like thunder, like he’s furious but it’s only him crushing down his need. He wants to the point he nearly can’t contain it and there’s that thought

(That fantasy, really, of these men inside you all at once, your holes gaping open and Walter’s fingers heavy on your tongue)

of what could happen. It’s not an anything can happen kind of night; Walter’s much too careful for that. But it’s a night that’s rife with newness. And your mind shorts out mid-thought, with the barest brush of beard against your neck as Sy leans in to drive in deep with a press and twist that has you coming hard and wet over his hand. Darlin, that was beautiful. And Syverson is smiling through his beard, his voice rough and deep and if your hands were free you’d jerk me off. But darlin. Here you are all wrapped up like a present for me, and that’s even better. And he licks his fingers.

This is two trucks blowing down the highway, one with you and Walter and the other bearing Syverson along.

(This is the plan)

This is the house where Mike waits, sitting in the big chair. His grin is near as loose as his salute, lazy and open as he’s palming gently at his cock; he’s got his notes and he’s got his drink and he is watching. He is watching and he is waiting and he might play at being young and dumb sometimes but it’s a front; he watches you and Sy and he sees everything. He sees you and he leans his head against Walter’s thigh when he stands beside the chair; Walter’s hand is ruffling Mike’s curls and did you have a good time, boss?

Look at how she glows, Michael. She had one already, right there at the table. Quiet as a mouse, so goddamn good for us.

My ears are burning.

Sweetheart. Is that sass?

And there’s Sy with his fingers under your jaw, tipping your face up to look at him. How are we gonna play this?

We’re flexible. What hole do you want, Syverson? Our sweet girl here wants to be filled to bursting.

And Mike, from his chair: you should have her ass. Helped her prep before you left. She’s all plugged and ready for you, aren’t you, babe? There’s Sy’s cock jerking hard at the thought, of a sweet warm ass all slicked and open for him and he had to have noticed at the diner, he had to have, but maybe

(This is the tease and the promise)

maybe he thought it wouldn’t be for him and he’d have been happy either way; pussy is delectable but Christ, darlin. Yes, yes, if you’ll let me and Sy gets your clothes off as best he can; your shirt is tangling in the cuffs but it’s alright because he can kneel behind you and look at that pretty jewel in your ass; he can tap the base with a thick finger to hear you whine. He can work his teeth into the meat of your ass gently, gently, leaving a circle of indentations that might not be a bruise but goddamn does it feel nice when he licks over them.

It feels even better when Sy eases the plug from your ass and watches your pretty little hole twitch around nothing— look at that, just begging to be filled up again— and laves his tongue over your hole. It’s like fire, that moment when his tongue points hard and slips inside. It’s intimate and strange and good; you’ve known this guy for an hour and his tongue is in your ass. He moves in licks and stabs of tongue, his hands working the bottle of lube that Mike slips him before leaning in to kiss you wet and open

You like it, babe? You thinking about what he’ll be like inside you? Thinking about what it’ll be like when you’re full of all of us, every hole plugged tight with cock? Hey, Sy. How’s her ass? Is it sweet? And that’s a growl that vibrates through your ass into your core; that’s Sy hooking his thumbs in your ass and beginning to stretch you wide as Mike guides you to bend over the bed, as he’s stroking clever fingers down your flanks and saying babe. Babe. Fuck. Like this, I never thought— wish you could see this, he’s so lost to it.

And maybe you can’t see it but you can feel it, the rasp of beard against the crease of ass and thigh. You can feel the cool slide of lube after Sy pulls back to slick his hand; he knows this dance and all its steps. He works you open til at last he’s satisfied, til Mike’s fingers are pruning from how he’s been playing with your slit, teasing, never quite enough so that you’re desperate, chasing between his hand and Sy’s, seeking more.

(Remember. We are here with you.)

Michael. Since you’re there why don’t you fuck her cunt, and I’ll take that pretty throat. Walter helps Mike get into position, reclining with his feet on the floor; there’s that sweet almost-burn of a thick cock stretching at your walls; under Mike’s white tee his nipples pebble hard; the barbells are visible and Christ it’s a sight.

Without use of your arms you’re entirely dependent on these men to hold you upright; Mike’s hands are steady on your sides, his fingers rippling in patterns. And that’s— my god—

Shh, sweetheart.

—when Sy’s cock first pushes inside slick and hot and achingly tight there’s a moment when he nearly loses himself, when he’s breathing harshly through his nose and you can feel the internal fight, the keep it together argument within himself, the one that says be still a moment. And so he waits til that need recedes, til the tight heat around him isn’t entirely too much, and then he starts to move. Slowly, slowly, like glaciers, like window glass, he flows in you and it is sweet, it is counterpoint to Mike who is also moving, careful, careful, moaning at the feel of that second cock inside you, separated from him only by the thinnest bit of skin.

So this is what it looks like from the outside. Sweetheart, you’re a vision. Walter wants, he wants so badly but he checks the angle of your arms in their cuffs, pressed against Sy’s belly as he ruts you from behind;

Status, sweetheart.

Gr— green, sir. Greengreengreen.

Walter comes around to kiss you, biting a little with his sharp teeth; there’s that rasp of his zipper as he’s kneeling on the bed, tangling with Mike to get his cock angled properly at your face. He says suck, sweetheart and so you do; you take him deep and all at once, full beyond breath with Walter’s length down your throat.

And there’s Sy across your back with a wondering voice, first time with more than just one other and fuck— fuck—good, this is good, kid, I can feel you in her with me. But Mike can’t answer; his eyes are fixed on you, on the way Walter’s cock disappears and reappears from your mouth above him, on the way your eyes are bright with tears but not of pain or fear, only the pleasure and the overwhelm.

And you? Your head is growing light; you hum around Walter’s cock while Mike watches, counting your blinks to be sure. He might not take the role too often but when it’s his turn to watch your signals he takes the task on with his whole heart. Between he and Walter you’re safe as houses; Sy has every promise of a good man and if he sticks around that’d be real nice.

(Three holes, three men. Think you can take it, babe?

Course I can take it.

Do you want to take it?

Fuck, yes)

And so you fall apart, and it is good. If asked, you wouldn’t be able to say who came in what order, only that they did, only that you did—again— and yet a third time with the second still rolling through you. And they are a warm and heavy pile around you, slick with fluids; Walter draws the handcuff keys from a chain around his neck and frees your wrists; he and Mike stroke your hair with a good, good girl as their fingers tangle together.

‘Sgood. So good.

Yeah, sweetheart. You did so well and now you’re full of us, come in every hole. What a sight. What a treat.

For me?

For you. For us.

And Sy? He’s watching soft and sated, sliding free, with a kiss and a lick at your hole before he joins the pile. ‘Sgood. Do you mind if I stick around a while?

The bed has room enough for four, big guy. Get comfy, take a nap. We’ll still be here.

#henry cavill #walter marshall #my fic #mike (hellraiser)#captain syverson #walter marshall fic #walter marshall smut #mike (hellraiser) smut #mike (hellraiser) fic #captain syverson fic #captain syverson smut #sand castle #sand castle smut #sand castle fic #night hunter #night hunter fic #night hunter smut #Walter x mike x Syverson x reader

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auroracalisto · 4 years ago

Text

perfect slice of heaven

summary: in an attempt to save you, dean made you leave. he never realized that it would cost you both everything.

pairing: dean x reader

word count: 1.7k words

warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, angst with a happy ending, uhhh i don’t want to spoil anything but mentions of Heaven, Hell, and resurrection, mentions of attacks, depiction of life-threatening wounds, breakups, uh, blood, wounds, more blood

a/n: i started writing this and i couldn’t stop. supernatural is legit the perfect show for angst. sorry, i don’t make the rules

It was never supposed to have been this way.

The blood that pooled around you, the coolness that overtook your body.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.

You were supposed to have lived. To have had a life, just like Dean wanted you to. You were supposed to have gone out and had a child, a family, a proper job where you could have some apple pie life.

But here you were, lying in a pool of your own blood, wishing that Death would take you sooner.

While you waited for the release you so craved, you began to think. Is this what Dean wanted for you? A life away from him? No sort of protection, other than yourself? He couldn’t have possibly expected you to move on. He was your everything. You remembered leaving him like it was yesterday.

“Dean, what do—Dean, stop. Look at me. What the hell are you saying?”

“I’m saying you need to leave. Just go, [Your name]. Stop wasting your time on a damn relationship that’s going to Hell.”

You slowly blinked at him, turning fully to face him. “Where is all this coming from?”

“You just need to leave, [Your name]. I don’t want to have to argue about this. I don’t want to be in a relationship with you anymore. Just go.”

You wondered if it was his way of protecting you from hurting anymore than you already did. But now, you just knew that his futile attempt at protecting you backfired, just like many other things in your life. Being a hunter was dangerous. You knew that before you became one. But Dean made your life better. Happier. Fuller.

Sam was asleep in the back of the Impala, every now and then snoring and alerting the two of you that he wasn’t about to wake up.

As Dean drove along, you moved to where you could rest your head on his shoulder. “You know,” you smiled, glancing up at him through your lashes. “It would be fun to take a break.”

“A break?” he quickly looked down at you before returning his gaze to the black stretch of highway before him. “Like a vacation.”

“Exactly.”

“Where would we go?” he chuckled softly.

Hell, the two of you never went on a vacation. But creating plans. Knowing he wanted to go just as badly as you did. It made your heart swell.

As you laid there, you could feel your heart pounding. You wondered why you had the same feeling as you so often did talking to Dean, but then you realized it was your heart working overtime as you bled out in your living room.

It was never supposed to be this way.

It was never supposed to have ended so suddenly. Dean was supposed to have eventually come back around and asked you to take him back. Hell, it wasn’t the first time this had happened, to begin with. But you knew that it wouldn’t ever happen again. This would be the last time that you could even think of something like that.

With a shaky hand, you tried to force yourself to sit up. Pain rippled through your body, but you pulled yourself over to your phone that sat near the shattered coffee table. You were grateful your phone hadn’t been destroyed, and with what little of your adrenaline rush you had left, you called Dean’s number.

He never picked up.

You let out a soft sob as the voicemail began to record. “Dean,” you started, a shuddering breath coming soon after. “Dean, I love you. And I want you to know that no matter what, I don’t blame you for anything. You telling me to leave… this… this happening. Nothing… is your fault. I love you, more… more than you know it, you know?” You took in a labored breath, pressing your back up against the wall. You looked at the pool of blood that trailed underneath you from the spot you had been lying in.

“Dean, there’s so much blood,” you whispered. “I… I’m surprised I haven’t passed out yet,” you closed your eyes. “Maybe… maybe it’s because I needed to talk to you. To hear your voice. But… you can hear me. That—that’s enough. Yeah, that’s enough. Dean,” you coughed, tears forming in your eyes. “I don’t… don’t know who or what attacked me. But—but don’t, don’t you dare, don’t go looking for them. It’s okay, Dean,” you said, your hand growing weak and your eyes growing heavy. “I love you, Dean.”

The voicemail beeped one last time, alerting you that your time limit for the message was up. You let your phone drop to your side and you slowly rested your head back on the wall. In a moment of weakness, you thought out a short prayer to Castiel, hoping that somehow, he would hear you.

And for once in your life, you let the darkness overtake you.

It was an hour later that Dean had managed to charge his phone and get a signal back onto it. Sam had forced him out to hunt a nest of vampires, claiming that it would “help get his mind off of you.” Whatever the hell that meant.

Dean only froze when his phone came on and he saw the voicemail. You never called him.

Dean quickly played it, putting it up to his ear. His heart broke when he heard your voice. And his entire world felt like it was crashing as he heard you talk about blood and how you hadn’t passed out yet. When the voicemail ended, he quickly called you back—multiple times over. But your phone just buzzed beside you, and your body made no move to answer it.

You were gone.

You were gone, and it wasn’t due to something of Dean’s irrational mind. You were gone because he wasn’t there. You had been living in a nice neighborhood, trying to live that apple pie life, and you were gone. You were gone doing something that Dean had practically forced onto you, and there was nothing that he could do about it now.

It was only seconds after you had passed that Castiel heard your prayer. And it was only minutes later that he found where you were in Heaven.

It shocked you when you saw him. “Cas?”

The angel began to smile. “[Your name]. I heard you and I came. I’m afraid I came a moment too late.”

“Why am I in Heaven?” you asked, a confused look on your face.

He chuckled softly. “Sam and Dean are both meant to go to Heaven due to the acts of other angels. I made sure that you would come as well, especially when your pure heart should have ended up in Heaven to begin with, [Your name].”

You took in a deep breath. Heaven was definitely something. No pain, no heartache, and the faint memories of what you had while you were hurting on Earth. Everything else just exemplified what you loved on Earth. Dean was in your Heaven. But you knew it wasn’t right. As soon as you arrived, you knew it wasn’t your Dean. And you knew you weren’t alive.

Castiel placed a hand on your shoulder and he gave you another smile. “I’ll give you a choice. You can stay here and prevent yourself from any harm. Or…”

“Or?”

“I can take you back to your body.”

“Can you heal me?”

Cas smiled. “Of course I can.”

You thought for a moment, taking another look at your little Heaven before you nodded. Dean would be lost without me, you thought. You didn’t know if that was true—but a part of you wanted to believe that.

Just moments after Dean had busted down the door to your home, he saw Castiel kneeling over your body and a soft glow emanating from your wounded abdomen. Dean rushed over, practically scrambling to your side as soon as he was down on his knees. He quickly cupped your cheeks, looking you over as your eyes peeled open.

He pressed a rough, yet passionate kiss to your lips, tears forming in his eyes.

“I thought—I thought you were dead—”

“I was.”

Dean’s eyes widened as he looked back at Castiel.

He had taken a seat on the couch and he most definitely looked like he was a hot mess. He rested his head back and without a warning, he passed out. He exerted much of his energy bringing you back.

Dean looked back down at you and he couldn’t help his tears from falling. “I am so sorry… I never should have made you leave.”

You gave him a weak smile. “You didn’t know something like this would have happened.”

“No. No, but I should have seen it coming. I should have. I—”

You reached up, pressing a gentle hand to his cheek. “But I’m here. Cas brought me back… It’s alright. I’m alright.”

“You look like a disaster,” Dean mumbled, leaning against your hand.

You scoffed. “I feel like it.”

Dean hesitantly smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. “Never again. I will never allow something like this to happen again. I am so sorry, [Your name].”

You just smiled, taking in a deep breath. Perhaps your life would have been better cut short. You might have had it better off in your picture perfect Heaven. But right now, looking at Dean, you knew that he needed you more than you needed that apple pie life. You knew that he wouldn’t make it without you being around, even if he would never admit it.

Carefully, Dean brought you into a hug and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “I promise you, I’ll take care of whoever did this in the first place.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. “I’m sure you will. But uh… maybe… maybe for now, help me take a bath. I… feel disgusting.”

He let out a soft laugh. “You come back from the dead and the first thing you want is to take a bath?” he smiled down at you. “I hate to say that I can understand.”

You felt your cheeks grow warm, but you didn’t argue. This would definitely be traumatic, but now, you knew that everything would be okay. At least, you hoped it would be.

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