#this only took me less than an hour...woah...

[teakoodrawz]

Blind

[darnell-la]

Sub! Logan would be so fucking hot. And the way you write him is soo good! I'd love to see your ideas about how he would act as a sub.

note: we rushed this BUT we have more. better ones coming soon!

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits, and memes of the people we write about!

———

“Going to pearls,” a woman spoke as she got into his car. “What’s your name?” He asked to confirm. “Y/n,” she said. The man turned around, realizing that this young lady was alone.

Usually, he picks up a huge group. That’s why he has a limousine, but she’s alone and has no one on her guest list.

“You gonna drive, handsome?” Y/n asked. Logan quickly turned back around and began driving. He was surprised by the nickname, but he let it go. He’s been called everything by now.

Logan’s been driving for ten minutes, music low, and y/n looking out the window. He’s never felt this awkwardness because it wasn’t him and only one person in the car.

“So — Friends busy?” He asked. Y/n slowly turned her head, looking at the man in the mirror. “All canceled. As always,” she added before she looked back out of the window.

“Oh,” he said, feeling a bit bad. He could see she paid one hundred for every hour tonight, and he would be with her for six hours.

“I mean, I can talk to my job, probably give you a refund or somethin,” he said, feeling like he should help her in some way. Usually, the man couldn’t care less, but y/n’s a young woman going to a club alone.

“I’ll be fine — Guess all the drinks I bought will be for me,” she said in a low voice that pained Logan to hear. She seemed sweet, and her friends canceled out on her. All of them.

“What was this for? Like, tonight? What did you have planned for tonight?” He kept a conversation going which confused y/n. His profile says he preferred not to talk and that he wouldn’t talk first.

“Well, it’s kind of my birthday, so — Yeah,” y/n sighed. “Oh, well — Happy birthday?” He said, not knowing if it was appropriate. The woman giggled to herself at his attempt to make her feel better.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna drink? I’ve got plenty and I can’t leave with any bottles,” she said, pointing to the bottles on the table, all hard liquor and only one juice for a mixture.

“I kind of have to drive you back home,” Logan turned down her offer, which he’d never done before. “C’mon! It’s my birthday,” she smiled at the man as she raised a bottle for him to take.

Logan waved her off, wanting to be responsible and think about her life that could be at stake, but he still felt bad about the empty spaces on the couches.

“Fine, but only if you don’t report me,” he joked, making her laugh as she took a bottle herself. “Cheers to me and my only friend who showed up which is the bodyguard,” she raised her drink.

“Cheers,” the man chuckled before raising the drink to his lips. He watched the girl drink, thinking it would be a small amount like any young lady, but her — She had almost chugged half the bottle.

“Woah, bub — Don’t hurt yourself,” he said, making her roll her eyes playfully. “Oh, don’t be mad because I can drink more than you,” she said, wanting to have some kind of fun tonight. Getting her bodyguard drunk and then driving her home sounds like a fun story to tell.

“Trust me, y/n — You can’t,” he said, but y/n didn’t believe him. That was until he shrugged his shoulders and chugged the whole bottle. The expression across her face was stunned. She’s never seen anything like that before.

“What the fuck,” she whispered. “Yeah — Kinda my power,” he chuckled. The man turned around to start his job and stood outside of her closed section until she spoke.

“Wait! I-I’m kind of alone so I don’t mind if you — stay? Please, I kind of feel like shit,” she admitted. She told her friends she was completely fine about their cancellation, but she’s not. She lost a lot of money and her mood was talk.

Logan couldn’t turn the offer down just like the last, so he stayed. The two drank all night, finishing every last bottle. She even got him to dance with her which he wouldn’t have done with anyone else. He had no idea what’s gotten into him tonight.

“God, tonight was fun,” y/n said as the man turned the corner where her apartment was. “Yeah, it was,” Logan smiled as he took a quick look at the young lady who was now sitting in the passenger seat, body turned towards him.

“You don’t understand how much I appreciate you, Mister Logan. You were the best fun I’ve had in like years!” She admitted. He wasn’t scared to drink and dance like most of her friends were.

“You’re the most fun I’ve had in maybe forever,” Logan meant it, but she had no idea who this man was. She was too sad to notice when she first met him and now she’s too drunk to realize.

“Is there a way I can repay you? Maybe like a cup of tea? I don’t fuckin’ know,” y/n laughed with him. “I don’t know, hun, I kind of have to get back home,” he said.

“How far do you live from here?” She asked. “About thirty minutes,” he said. “Oh, no,” she gasped. He’d been drinking because of her, and now she was going to have him drive back and half an hour just to get him.

“Don’t worry, bub. I've been doin’ this a lot,” he said. “Yeah, but I’ll be stressed all night. Please, stay the night. I have a spare room? It’s the least I can do,” she said, sounding like a beg. “God, it’s hard to turn you down. Do you know that?” He said as y/n smiled.

Logan parked the car for the night before y/n got him situated in her spare room. “Still want tea?” She asked. “I think I’ll be fine, bub,” he said. “But a shot would due,” he added. He had seen the liquor drawer she had.

“Comin’ right up, handsome,” she said before walking off. As she did, he couldn’t help but watch her figure. He scanned her dress earlier, but she looked way better just now. Maybe it was the alcohol? He didn’t know.

“You always drink this much?” She asked. “Yeah, and you?” He asked as she handed him his shot before sitting next to him with hers. “As you can see,” she giggled.

“Cheers to a goodnight with a man I brought back from the club?” She couldn’t help herself. “Cheers,” the man downed the drink as he watched her. She’s looked so drinking…

“God, that it’s hard,” she shook her head. “Yeah,” he aimlessly said as he watched a drop of liquor roll down her lip. “Hey, c’mere,” the man said, softly turning her face before wiping the liquor from her mouth.

Y/n was shocked and silent, not knowing what to do after. That seemed so sweet, but at the same time, she was drunk out of her mind.

“They look pretty,” the man spoke, breaking the silence. His thumb grazed her bottom lip, loving the smooth feeling of them. “Really?” She asked low, feeling shy all of a sudden. She hasn’t been all night until now.

“Mhm hm,” he mumbled as he slowly leaned into her. She felt like she was in a trance the way she felt she needed to lean in. Her heart was raising until their lips touched.

At first, it was sweet and slow, maybe a little tongue but after they both opened and locked eyes, they couldn’t help it.

Y/n quickly hopped on top of Logan, now grinding on his hips as he held her up by her ass. The man was shocked at her aggression and dominance but couldn’t complain.

“You taste so good,” she said under her breath as she kissed him. “I’m glad I took you home,” she added before moving down to his neck. She felt this hard urge to mark the man she hardly knew.

“Fuck, y/n,” Logan moaned low. He knew his voice could go that high. Y/n hummed into his neck, sucking long and rough to make sure he was living here marked up.

“Can feel how hard you are. Bet you’ve been waiting for me to touch you all night, hm?” She asked, hands traveling down his stomach until she could palm his clothes cock.

“Mhm hm,” the man whined at her grip. “Words, baby,” she demanded in a soft voice. “Y-Yes, baby,” the man’s mouth went slack at her touch. “So good,” she said before pushing him down in the bed.

“Gonna be good for me tonight?” She asked as he nodded quickly. “Gonna be my birthday gift, baby?” Y/n had lifted her dress before fondling with his belt. “Yes, yes, I am,” he couldn’t hide his heavy breathing.

“Oh god — You’re a big boy, aren’t you?” Y/n pulled Logan’s cock out. He was heavy and huge. “Yes, I am,” he answered, wanting to be good for her. He wanted to make her proud. He wanted to make a woman he barely knew, proud.

“He looks hungry,” y/n stroked the man, watching his pre cum leak from the tip. Y/n spat on the man’s cock, making his eyes widen because no one has ever done that to him before. They’d just wrap their mouth around him or push him inside with no preparation.

“Gonna feel so good,” y/n lifted her hips before sliding all the way down in one go. “F-Fuck,” the man cried out, his already bucking up into her.

“Fuck — Could you be my bodyguard every night?” She jokingly asked but the man nodded back so quickly, she thought about it. Maybe he isn’t too bad. He was fun tonight. He could be fun every night.

“Gonna let me wet you every night, baby?” Y/n asked as she leaned down on his body. “Fuck, yes — I wanna be with you every night,” the man’s hips moved slightly up into y/n, causing her to clench around him from how deep he gets.

“How old are you again, baby?” Y/n asked. “Two hundred,” the man’s hands gripped y/n’s ass, not thinking about his response. “A man with a sense of humor — So hot,”

Y/n rolled her hips, grinding on the man to feel every thick and long inch in her. The way his skin rubbed her walls, made her squeeze around him. He was close but felt embarrassed about how short he was going to last.

“Gonna cum for me, baby?” Y/n asked, seeing the man bite his lip, trying to focus on holding back. “C’mon — I want you to fill me,” y/n whispered in his ear before giving it a light slick.

“Fuck,” the man let out a shaky moan as his legs shook. “C’mon, baby — Cum in me,” y/n began bouncing in the man’s cock, feeling him twitch inside her. She just knew he was going to give her a big and well-needed load.

“C’mon,” y/n rode him harder, filling the room with their skin slapping against each other and her wet cunt coating his cock. “I’m cumming!” Logan warned through his teeth as his hips bucked upwards a few times.

Y/n kept riding him, mixing his seed inside of her until she felt like she had enough. “So fuckin’ good, baby. I wonder if you taste you,” y/n spoke, feeling the urge to suck him dry.

“Fuck, it’s too much,” the old man said, grilling her hips a bit tight so she could slow down, but she wouldn’t. “Oh, really?” She asked, feeling the knot grow in her stomach. She was so close.

“God- Fuck — I can’t take it, baby,” Logan tried begging her. “Yes, you can. Just a few more seconds, baby. You think you can do that?” She asked, looking into Logan’s eyes. They were glossy and full of lust.

The man nodded his head with a shaky hum, feeling the need to cum again. “Good boy,” she spoke as she leaned up, rocking her hips back and forth until she couldn’t anymore.

Y/n released on the man, earning a whine from him. After she came, he couldn’t hold himself in. He had come inside of her again. For the second time.

“Oh god,” y/n breathed out, feeling so full. “S-Sorry,” the man shook as she leaned in front of his face, hands rubbing his cheek. “Wanna feel more of you,” she said.

The man was shocked at how many times this woman could go, but he didn’t want to disappoint her. He wanted to pleasure her and make her happy. He tried to be good for her. And he was for the whole night and many more.

[ellastone-olsen]

hihihihi idk if youre accepting requests or not but if you are:

can you please do stripper!wanda x innocent!reader where reader's friend drags her to a nearby strip club to blow off steam. and reader is really innocent and is just sitting in the chair, slightly confused while watching the dancers do their thing on the pole. and reader is unknowingly eyeing one certain stripper (wanda) and wanda notices and comes over to reader. and reader's friend is teasing reader and telling wanda to give reader a lap dance when she comes over. and then wanda brings reader to like one of the private rooms in the back and like reader is realy inexperienced and awkward and tense. and then wandas there to like talk reader through it and reader's like REALLLY shy. okay woah thats a lot thank youuuuu take your time 💝

The art of eye contact - Wanda Maximoff

★Pairing: stripper!Wanda Maximoff x innocent!f!reader

Summary: your friend drags you to a strip club, what could happen there to such an innocent little thing like you?

★Warnings: little NSFW 18+, lap dance, grinding, pet names, a little fluff (sorry I can’t without fluff)

★Word count: 1.5k

★AN: hi anon! In general, my requests are closed, but I found this very interesting, so here we are. there was nothing about 18+ in the request and I decided to remove this part (well, almost). hope you’ll like it

The loud music and shining lights of the club were blinding as you sat shyly in your seat and looked somewhere at the floor. There was a can of soda on the table nearby. The people around are mostly men, but your eye notices some women who also came to watch the show. And only one question: what the hell are you doing here?

“Come on Y/N let’s go, I’ve been there more than once, maybe you’ll like it.” This is exactly what you heard from your friend half an hour ago, when you were sitting in her apartment and just playing online games. You came to her in a terrible mood because of a failed college exam and sought solace in this meeting. In the last couple of weeks, your nerves were on edge and all you need now was to let off steam after a series of failures. “Fucking shit, can’t you see they’re shooting at you!?” You told her angrily as she turned away from the laptop screen without following the game. You definitely needed another way to relax.

Despite your 21, you had never been to this kind of establishment and of all your friends, you were the most innocent person, not knowing what relationships and sex are. "Come on, let's go, don't be so boring." She insisted, "If you don't like it, then I give you permission to hit me." You took off your headphones and sighed. If you think so, then you were curious to visit the strip club. "okay." After that, within 10 minutes you were riding in a taxi to an address unknown to you.

Returning to the present time, you tried not to stare too much at all these people dancing at the poles, the clothes on them were becoming less and less every minute and your cheeks were flushed red. Your friend hit you with her elbow, signaling for you to look (she paid for the entrance and doesn’t want her money to disappear into the floor in which you are ready to make a hole with your gaze). You look up again and look at each dancer in turn until you reach her. To your right is dancing a woman with long red hair, which is pulled back into a messy bun with a shiny clip. Her top was already off, revealing a red fabric bra that did not hide the softness of her breasts. She was still wearing a long skirt that cut out to her hips, so you could see her legs, which seemed to be moving closer to you. Stop why is she coming to you.

While you watched as if under hypnosis, the stranger was already in front of you and grabbed the soda from your hand and put it on the table to put her hands on either side of you on the armrests. Her back arched and she made a small wave, so that her breasts were a few centimeters from your face, it seemed like you were ready to explode from what was happening. Her head tilted, her lips reached your ear so she could shout to you over the noise of the music, “I’m Wanda, nice to meet you.” In your opinion, people usually don’t get to know each other by sticking their almost bare breasts under the noses of strangers, but remember where you were and toss all the questions. In any case, all you did was nod and again direct your gaze somewhere to the side. It seemed that you had turned into a bundle of nerves and embarrassment.

Wanda took this as a sign that she needed to look for another client for the night, but your friend, who had been watching all this time from the side, took the redhead somewhere to the side and seemed to give her a bill and instructions on what to do.

"Where have you been?" You asked the girl as she approached with a sly grin, noticing how red you were. Why the hell did she bring you here and leave you to your fate? “I have another little gift for you that you’ve been eyeing so eagerly.” Was she teasing you? Defined. “What are you talking about, what kind of gift am I thinking enough for today.” Then your friend stepped aside and showed Wanda standing behind her. The girl leaned over so only you could hear, “I paid, so have fun.” You didn’t immediately understand what exactly she paid for, but Wanda’s sweet smile brought the idea to your brain and your eyes widened.

The redhead gently took your hand in hers and you obeyed (only out of curiosity) and followed her into the private rooms. When the red matte door closed and it became much quieter, you sat on the sofa with your hands on your knees and asked a question. “What exactly she told to do?” One of your knees is bouncing from the fact that you are shaking your leg trying not to be nervous. Your friend has already explained to the redhead what an innocent little thing you are, so the woman decided to first ask permission for some actions.

"She ordered a lap dance, but you're such a sweet girl that I was willing to do it for free just for you." She came up to you again and leaned in, so close that her breath was on your neck and you could smell the scent of her cherry perfume. “Can I sit on your lap honey?” Her soft sexy whisper drove you crazy and you squeaked in agreement. Immediately you felt the weight of her body on you, how her long legs in stockings wrapped around you and your core began to pulsate just from this. "What should I do? I…I never…” Wanda’s hips rocked and her core pressed against your stomach. “Oh I know baby, I can see it right away.” She giggled. “I’m sitting right on top of you, can you tell me your name?” Your head fell back and your hair fell into face, you really didn’t want to seem like what you were, namely the inexperienced mess right under her. “My name is Y/N.” Your hands grabbed the upholstery of the sofa, you didn’t know how to touch her, or whether it was possible at all.

Wanda's hands dropped to yours and placed them on her hips. “That’s it Y/N, you can touch me if you want.” Your head turned towards her and you finally looked into her big green eyes. It was so beautiful that no part of her body interested you as much as this. “Your eyes are so…lovely.” The woman seemed confused at these words. Her clients told her a lot, in particular something about her breasts or ass, but never before had anyone given her a compliment with such trepidation. “Oh, what a cute little thing you are Y/N.” She stood up on your knees, her hands reached for the clasp of her skirt, which she was still wearing, but you stopped her. “No, don't. I mean, you're so beautiful, you don't need to take your clothes off to prove it."

This was the third time you had confused her that night. Of course, your inexperience spoke to you, but you also didn’t want to do something so blatant with her, at least not right now. Although perhaps there was one thing that you wanted to get. “I...can you kiss me? That is, if you don’t want to or it’s forbidden, I don’t insist, but...” Her soft, full lips fell on yours without allowing you to finish, it seems that at these words the woman’s heart sank painfully. Her dark lipstick mixed with your cherry gloss and with every movement of your lips, your hands gripped her soft thighs tighter. “Wanda...” You wanted to ask, but she wasn’t done with you. When there was not enough air, she pulled away and turned her head away. “Sorry, it was not according to regulations.” You didn't understand why she was apologizing.

“No, no, everything is fine, at least... it sounds so stupid but... maybe you would like to get to know each other better and go on a date, for example?” You realized how naive it sounded, asking the girl from the strip club you had just met on a date. Surely everyone who was with her in this room made her such an offer.

Instead of words, the woman got up from you and you thought that the time that your friend had paid for was over, but after a few seconds she handed you a piece of paper with numbers. “Here, this is my number, text me in the morning if you don’t change your mind.” You took the small piece of paper from her hands and carefully placed it under your phone case.

For a minute you were in an awkward ringing silence. “Can I kiss you again?” You asked shyly. Even then, Wanda couldn’t refuse you.

When you left the private room and said goodbye, your friend immediately met you with questions about how everything went. You told her, not knowing that in this evening Wanda did not bring anyone else into the room where you were together.

[wakeup01]

Playing It Straight

“Roomieee. I need your help with something.” I hear the telltale high pitched cry from my twinky roommate Yuan’s bedroom. The last thing I need right now is his whiny ass distracting me.

“What it is? I have a date with this hot chick in half an hour. You better have clothes on this time dude.” My hand pushes the door to his room ajar and I see him laying down on the bed facing away from me. There was some upbeat trashy pop song playing on his sound system. Yuan begins to gyrate to the beat. “Don’t dance. No dancing.” I order bluntly, turning off his music.

There was being gay and then there was Yuan, who seemed to make it his whole identity. It was bad enough his room was colour coded in pastel purples to match his dusty lavender hair. But he had now painted the whole door too.

“It’s my big butt, I think there’s something wrong with it.” He announces with fake concern, rolling his hips on the bed sheet - revealing more of his smooth slim body than I ever dared wish to see. I make a internal note to ‘mace own eyes later’.

Yuan was not as innocent as he liked to make out and had on numerous occasions attempted to trick me into indulging in his fantasies. Gifting me a bright crop top and calling it a ‘fashionable tank top’ - it certainly turned heads at the gym the one day I wore it, or inviting me to a progressive club with the promise of scoring ‘lots of ass’. And the less said about ‘locktober’ the better, that was NOT a halloween costume. Only last week he had convinced me to listen to some gay as fuck audio tapes while I slept; obviously that crap didn’t work on a man like me. His justification always being ‘you’ll like it, I swear’. This one was a bit on the nose, even for him.

“Dude we talked about this, I’m flattered, really. I get it, I’m a gay bottoms wet dream. I can’t blame you for eying my superior meat.” I puff out my well built chest, barely contained in my tank top. “But fuck, it ain’t gonna happen.” I attempt to not make eye contact with him as he looks over his shoulder at me.

“No, like seriously. Something feels wrong, can you pleeease juth take a looksee. Pretty please.” He pulls down his shorts and moons me as I shield my eyes. It’s like the sun, you’re safe if you don’t look directly at it, right? Internal note: ‘buy more mace’.

“Serious like when you said we were in a ‘mandatory hand holding zone?” I hear muffled giggling coming from his pillow. “Bro it’s probably from all the things you shove up it.” I shudder, trying not to picture THAT in my head. “I’ll look but only if you promise me that you’ll drop that ‘I know you’re secretly gay bullshit.’ My friends at the gym heard that crap last time.”

“Hehe. Ooo thuch a manly jock. Geez, I pwromise. Meathead.” Yuan winks at me and I hated him for it. Hated the weird way it made me feel in my chest.

I sigh loudly for effect and bend down until the cleft of his…cheek is at eye level. I felt so self conscious, how on earth did he talk me into this? I look at my chiseled body just to remind myself, yes I am a man. A masculine man. God, here we go. My eyes briefly glance across his—ew—his raised butt before I quickly look away.

“Bruh I don’t see a thing. It’s a mans butt. Congratulations.” What the hell am I even looking for? I’m sat on the floor checking out a dude’s…posterior. And for what?

“Come on, look clother.” Yuan insists with a slight lisp, curving his back and pushing his rear higher.” Again, I look at my thick biceps, yes, still a man.

His hands pull at his buttocks and slowly part them, revealing his tight hole to me. Woah. One glimpse was all it took. I should have recoiled but instead I was fascinated. I’d never seen a man’s hole before, it was different…

I hear him say something to me but whatever it was, it didn’t seem too important. I couldn’t stop staring, it was like looking into a black hole, and the more I looked the more enraptured I became. It was distorting my worldview, it made me feel like I had been missing out on something all these years.

“Helloooo! See anything?”

“Uuhhh. Maybe.” I mumble, my head getting closer to his rear.

I pull away his hands and replace them with my own, laying my fingers across his round cheeks and spreading them wider. Wow, it was…dare I say, enticing? The rest of the room faded from my mind as my eyes fall deeper into his needy, winking hole. I lean in and my nose makes contact with his crack. I can’t help myself, I inhale and suck up his scent, it acts like an immediate aphrodisiac. My cock wakes up, poking against the edge of the bed.

“You have been lithening to your programming for me then. Good Meathead. Remember when you were the stuck-up clever one, going to college? That was thuch a bore.”

“Say what bro?” College? Did I…? Nah. That smart shit wasn’t for me bro, my head was like beef central. I haven’t a clue what he’s talking about but I was happy to be a good fucking meathead. Something in my mind told me I was supposed to be. It made me even more pumped about the gym session tomorrow, I gotta bulk up my pecs.

“Make sure to take lots of selfies tomorrow ‘bro’, I need to see your gains.” I continue to breathe in the sweet aroma emanating from his behind. What was I doing again? “So, anything there dummy? How about now?” giggle “Isn’t it likth so big.”

He wiggles his hips and pushes back into my face, my lips making contact with his boy pussy. My eyes go wide. Fuck, this was soo gay. I should be revolted, why am I still down here? I could get up and walk away whenever…whenever I wanted to. Suddenly my mouth felt parched, like I had spent a week in the desert. It became clear where this was going. I’m not sure if I could even stop myself at this point, one tiny thing could tip me over the edge and disintegrate my own self image. It was as If I was having an out of body experience, seeing myself pressed against him. I wouldn’t, I was stronger than this. I was straight. Straight as an arrow… straight as a…

“Eat up jock.”

F—fuck. My lips open and my tongue presses up against his rear, dragging up and down between his cheeks and then swirling around his inviting hole. It was like a dam breaking, once I started I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. He tasted too good. Ready for the main course, my tongue dives deep into him and begins to eat him out in earnest, my mouth sucking at his entrance like I’m slurping on a ice cream filling.

While giving him a very manly rimjob I think of a solution to our problem. I finish up indulging in his sweet cake and pull my face out, slapping his jiggly butt cheeks.

“So what’s the issue?” He asks impatiently.

“It’s empty for one. Huhuhu. But I can fix that bro.” I say confidently, rushing to remove my underwear so I can finally nut inside him.

I push his skinny back down against the bed and line up my monster cock with his lubricated hole. Yuan moans into his pillow like he should. I slide into him with ease and flex my arms, feeling proud at ‘conquering’ my roommates hole.

“Good Meathead.” He praises between loud panting. “Mmm. But I thought you were straight.”

“I am. Unff. Just helping a bro out. No homo. Though I do need to see if there’s anything wrong with your throat after I plant my seed in your hole.”

______________________________

The next day.

“Man that was a fucking lit workout.” I exclaim, marvelling at my bulging muscles. I tense my arms and see my veins pop, sweat dripping to the floor. “Though you losers sure focused a lot on your glutes today. Hey—aren’t you ‘queens’ gonna shower?” I turn as my gym bros stop behind me in the locker room.

“Well… we spoke to your roommate about your progress yesterday.” Xavier states, removing his damp muscle tee - his dark shiny skin reflecting the harsh lights from overhead.

Yesterday…for some reason my memories from the day before were a blur. For the life of me I can’t remember what happened. There was some strange taste lingering in my mouth that had been making my dick hard all day. My roommate was certainly in a suspiciously good mood this morning too and made some strange comments about me ‘being hungry for more’.

“About what bro? That Yuan can kiss my ass. Huhuh. Come on, stop checking out each others dicks and let’s go!”

“Uh see, he thinks you’re now ready to be our…” I’d never seen him so unsure of himself before, I roll my eyes at him and slam my locker closed.

“Y’all acting like a bunch of girls.” I swear if Yuan is back to spewing his gay bullshit again…

“Go on. Say it.” One of the others insists, nudging Xavier’s shoulder.

Xavier hesitates and then looks away from me, his cheeks flushing red. “There’s uh, there’s something wrong with my…butt…so could you?” The others fail to stifle a laugh.

I do a double take as Xavier turns and points his toned ass at me, his jockstrap framing it like a wrapped gift. “What the fuck? Bruh what are you doing? Put that shit away.”

“Be a good Meathead.”

I see a flash of my roommates butt cross my minds eye. Uhhh. My cock throbs at the image. Before I know it my legs are kneeling behind my friend, what am I doing? My body certainly seems to be one step ahead, my hands grab at his muscled legs for support. “What the actual fuck. Guys…” I’ve never felt so embarrassed, how am I ever gonna live this down?

A hand pulls on the strap hugging Xaviers left buttock and lets go, letting it snap back into place, a slight jiggle vibrates over his firm rear. Was it my hand? I couldn’t even tell.

“Holy shit. I can’t believe those tapes actually worked. He’s come a long way since he was that scrawny nerd, thinking he was above everyone. Now he’s dumber than all of us. We just need Yuan to join us next. Damn someone make sure to record this” It was hard to take in what they were saying, my mind was fixated…elsewhere. One of them leans down to my side and points their phone camera at my zoned out face. “Dude, we stink…I’m next after you.” Someone pats my back as another hand holds my shoulder in place. “Nothing more manly than licking the salty sweat off a bro’s butt.”

No….

Xavier bends forward, his pert dark cheeks pulling apart - sweat glistening on their surface. And then I see it. What my body craved. His hole. Everything falls into place, my mouth watering at the sight, my eyes entranced. I could no longer deny what I wanted, deny the inevitability of what I was about to do. The depravity would be immortalised on camera too, my dumb face shoved in a mans ass. Oh fuck.

The perfect black void nestled between his tight buttocks seems to suck away my shame as I lick my lips. “So manly.” I repeat to the crowd that had gathered around me. Mmm. Rimming a man’s ass was almost as good as fucking it. I wanted a taste of all the guys, their shiny sweaty bodies, their musk. It was my place in the group, I was their meathead after all. My cock was already throbbing at the thought. Maybe Yuan was onto something with this whole ‘gay’ thing. Yeah, let’s try going full homo. Huhuhuh. Anything for the bros, bro.

Looking down at me confidently, Xavier grips the back of my head.

“Clean my hole bruh.”

_____________________________

A few days later I check in on Yuan to see his progress after a few nights obliviously listening to his ‘jocking’ tapes. Dude, I’m going to enjoy watching him slowly bulk up and dumb down. He’s sat up in bed casually tugging at his cock, mouth agape. The heavy thumping bass of trap music is blaring from his speakers. His room is a complete mess.

“How’s it hanging lil bro?”

“Just…mm—wanking.”

“Can see, Meathead. Hung and dumb, nice. I think you’re about ready to join us at the gym.”

“Hmm. Roomie, I—I need your help with something. It’s my big dick…”

“Huhuhu, there’s something wrong with it, let me be a bro and give you a hand with that stick.” I climb over him and wrap my lips around his cock.

“Thuck…ahem. Fuck yeah brooo!”

[freyito]

hiii first of all i just love your drabbles 🫶🫶🫶 Can i request mk1 characters reactions when their partner is hurt? yk when they found out that their s/o is in the hospital or sth. You can write for whoever you want but I would love if you include Raiden, Johnny Cage, Kenshi and Syzoth in this ❤️❤️

✭ pairing(s): liu kang, bi-han [sub zero], kuai liang [scorpion], johnny cage, kenshi takahashi, kung lao, raiden, zeffeero [rain], tomas vrbada [smoke], baraka, syztoh [reptile], havik, general shao, shang tsung, reiko (seperate) x gn reader

✧ a/n: thank u smmmmmm anon!!! i hope this doesnt sound egotistical or anything, but i really cant get enough of people telling me they love my writing, it's really affirming and i will always appreciate it ! it's always like... woah.... really......

this is the perfect request, but i am gonna put my own little spin on this and make it pretty angsty, whoops :P super sorry this one took so long too.... ough i put my heart and soul into it. i hope i am not only tumblr user freyito to you, but an angst writer too... well most of these are angst. some are a little more fluffy and less dire... also just could not for the life of me figure out what to write for geras' so no geras in this one :(

🗒 cw: gn reader, certain character's deaths, gore/blood, depiction of death, angst, in some you are close to death, stitching without painkillers in havik's, kidnapping in shang tsung's/mention of kidnapping in rain's, not proofread

✎ wc: 6.3k

ᴛʜᴇ ᴋᴏᴍʙᴀᴛ ʙᴏʏꜱ + ᴀ ʜᴜʀᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⎯Liu Kang

Not much evokes emotion in him. He is a god, he must been even with his feelings, and any shift in the balance could set so many things wrong. On the battlefield, there is no room for failure. With you, he's always been relatively neutral, he makes sure you know he loves you, and he's gentle with you. Yet, he keeps a distance. Liu Kang harbors a fear deep down, that his actions, his status, will bring you to your end. He's a sought out target, after all.

So, when those fears come true, Liu Kang can't help but feel his rage consume him. To watch Shang Tsung's claws dig deep into you, festering, plaguing your own strength. Ripping into you, decorating his hands in your warm blood. Shang Tsung had done this because of Liu Kang, he was so sure. Flames engulfed him, near incinerating the foot soldier he had been fighting. He approaches Shang Tsung, as you lay at his feet, struggling to breathe. Unforgivable. To do this to his starlight, Liu Kang will not make this mans death slow and savory, no. Within an instant, he pushes Shang Tsung's head through his own body, splitting the man in half, as well. Death is too merciful, but alas, that is not important, now.

Once the initial wave of anger washes off, adrenaline and logic set in. Liu Kang picks you up, he treats you as if you're porcelain. Just barely, as you struggle to stay conscious, you can hear him assuring you it's okay. That nothing else will happen. It is unclear whether he is saying this to you, or himself. Regardless, he leaves the battlefield quickly. He knows his comrades can handle the rest. But knowing that he is so close to losing you, as you bleed out within his arms, it is haunting. Every second counts, and he knows it. He entrusts your care to the medics at the Wu Shi academy, as much as he trusts them, he cannot bring himself to leave your side. For hours, he is still covered in your blood. His eyes do not leave your face, resting and peaceful, even with death knocking on your door.

Liu Kang is there every step of the way. When you are in recovery, he makes sure to attend every session. He brings you books, something to keep you occupied on the days where you are stuck in bed. Regrettably, he can't enjoy a lot of alone time with you, because duty calls. He'd love nothing more than to spend every waking moment with you, but he still has stuff to attend to. However, when you are cleared to leave the academy, he keeps you close. Liu Kang is afraid it will happen, the image of you bloodied and ripped up still fresh in his mind. He's only a little protective, the thought of you going back into Kombat a little rattling. But he does not stop you. Because it makes him feel better knowing that you are back on your feet.

⎯ Bi-Han

As the grandmaster's partner, Bi-Han knows that you could be caught in danger. But he does not lament this. He does not celebrate it, either. He admires that you can fight, and he loves fighting by your side. He always looks out for you, of course he does. But he cannot be by your side in a large fight, he knows you can hold your own.

It is a sharp cry that draws his attention towards you. That is all he needs. Bi-Han prides himself on being an even and logical man, but the minute he sees A Tengu assassin's knife dug deep into your ribs, he snaps. Within an instant the battlefield grows colder, and the second you blink, the assassin already has his spine ripped out and shattered. A little bit of a flashy display for a man like him, but he wastes no time in bathing in the glory of his kill. He was lucky enough that the fight was nearing an end, the last of the Tengu clan that was sent out were either retreating or being taken care of.

Off you go to the medics of the Lin Kuei, and he insists you are priority. The one thing Bi-Han was unfair with was you, near fighting with the medics to tend to your wounds. Your blood paints his hands and upper torso, and he refuses to wash it off. Not until he knows that you have priority. When the medics relent, he finally disappears to wash off. He cannot stay by your side as much as he'd like, but he's not only restricted by his title, but his emotions. He takes a couple minutes outside, to calm down his own nerves. Bi-Han does not cry, but a few shaky breaths escape him as he tries to calm himself down. His mind races with every possible outcome, ultimately landing on the worst.

But, Bi-Han's thoughts do not come to fruition. The medics have worked their magic, and you are on the path to recovery. As much as he'd love to be with you, he cannot. But, he does send you a bunch of gifts. Letters, mainly. Small incentives for you to recover quickly, but he sends in flowers frequently, as well. The days he does visit you, he is a softer man. He's especially gentle with you around your ribs. He keeps a very close eye on you during missions once you are out of recovery. He doesn't mean to seem overbearing, but his position alone paints a big ol' target on your head. This attack was the first that brought that to his attention.

⎯ Kuai Liang

Fighting alongside a pyromancer is tricky, to say the least. There's a lot of variables to account for, and aside from that, Kuai Liang can't really keep an eye on you in certain instances. This was one of them, a rather messy battle, one where he couldn't keep track of you. Not that it mattered, he knew you were strong enough to hold your own.

However, it is a stray spark that leads you to stumble back. You flinch, which drives you back into the sword of the enemy.  When Kuai sees this… the world goes silent. Water stills, flame fizzle out, swords clash and the dull clang of steel against steel quiets. Only for the water to suddenly form a raging tide, the flames to burn brighter, and the steel fades against the sound of a brilliant flame. In your fading vision, you see your partner's kusarigama impale your attacker's jaw, and pull it clean off. It is a sight he will regret later.

When the battle is over and the medics have taken you away, all Kuai Liang finds himself doing is worry. Pacing constantly, he messes up the mission report and has to have Tomas or someone else from the Shirai Ryu. He can recount things normally without a hitch, but knowing that it was him and his own ‘reckless’ use of his pyromancy with you in such close proximity makes him trip over his words, and even his thoughts. With what little free time he has, he’s pacing outside your cot, frequently checking in on the medics and the progress, until they ultimately have to push him away. Which calms him down, somewhat.

When the medics assure him that everything is fine, and that you are on the path to recovery, he’s much more relieved. He’s a lot less tense, and he’s a lot more coherent. He’s able to compose himself. Granted, he tends to sneak off (when appropriate) to check on you. He really just loves talking with you afterwards, he doesn’t want to bring up any unpleasant memories or thoughts (particularly what you saw before you blacked out), but there will always be a point where you have to talk about it. He’ll also ramp up his affection. The entire ordeal (while he knew what would come with forming the Shirai Ryu) made him realize that maybe he takes you for granted. Kuai Liang has been surrounded by death, sure, but for some reason, when it comes to those he loves… it is hard to understand that life is fleeting.

⎯ Johnny Cage

Johnny is used to deaths and his partner being hurt… on screen. He’s so used to the dramatized version, where his stage partner dies in his arms, and he wails real loud. He’s blissfully unaware that it could, in fact, happen to you in real life. He likes to think of himself as a great source of protection, believes no harm will come your way, not when you’ve got just a big, strong, handsome hunk around. And one of Earthrealm’s Defenders. As much as he’s grown, he still needs to learn a few lessons from the world.

And he’s in for a reality check. There are some unsavory characters out there, ones that aren’t too happy about his status as a whole. All he gets is a call from the hospital and a nice little greeting from officers. The only things he can make out in his newfound panic is ‘attempted murder’, and he’s REELING. He wasn’t there, he reminds himself. He doesn’t know what went down. Officers are still trying to figure it out. In his hazy and reckless state, he goes to his best friend.

Kenshi helps ease his nerves, and gives him a couple of LOGICAL ideas. Considering Shang Tsung had wormed his way into Kenshi’s life to steal Sento (and ultimately got his ass beat), he brings it up. Which leads to a whole meeting with Liu Kang, Raiden, and Kung Lao. To discuss the possible threats, and the future. Johnny cannot sit still that meeting, he’s practically bouncing off the walls, asking what this means for you. Every single question is about you, and you alone. Liu Kang dismisses him, and he practically speeds off to the hospital.

Johnny relaxes when he’s able to finally enter your room,– after a lot of arguing with the doctors about visiting hours– but his mind still spins. How could he let this slide? He should’ve been there, right? Regardless of how much blame he puts on himself, (which it was never his fault to begin with) he’s sat by your bed, sulking. From the police report, it’s clear that it was AT LEAST linked to Shang Tsung, but that’s no longer his problem. He gets you anything from the cafeteria if you ask, and he brings you flowers every. damn. day. He’s got so many gifts coming your way, that when you get discharged, you’re practically smothered by all the gifts he got you as an ‘apology’. When you ask him what he means by an apology, he doesn’t say a single word. Johnny’s very on top of your medication, he’s soooo very delicate with you, he almost condemns you to bedrest. But with enough pushback, you’re able to be up and about; but that doesn’t mean he won’t be worrying over you for quite a while. Even if Liu Kang assures him that it won’t happen again.

⎯ Kenshi Takahashi

Kenshi is aware of the danger that surrounds him and his existence in general. He’s protective of you, of course. And he knows full well that you could be swept up into the mix of the Yakuza, and his work with Liu Kang and the OIA. But, you yourself had fought hard for the relationship and made it clear that you could care less about the potential dangers; even if he felt a little frazzled at all the dangers out there. All the hands that could be grabbing at you, the guns, the knives, the weapons that would be pointed at you the minute you were spotted next to him. You didn’t care.

Yet, when he gets the call that you were involved in some crime, landing you in the hospital, his mind omits all the other details. Aside from the hospital you’re at. He even skips over the fact that it was Jax calling him. Part of him wants to cry. And he probably would, if he could. But he tries to keep himself composed. Whatever he’s been occupied with is now a distant memory, other agents can take over. As calm as he looks on the outside, there’s a war raging within him. He knew this would happen. Ever since he felt feelings for you, he knew.

When he finds you at the hospital, Sento left behind, he’s scared. He doesn’t know if he should be grateful that he can’t see you, or if he should lament over it. While the doctors had described your injuries as non-fatal, and that you’d recover in no time, Kenshi’s mind has already spun a horrifying image, but once the doctors have left, he can hear your soft breathing underneath all the bustle of the machines. And it soothes him. Only then does he find some peace of mind, you are safe, and the danger has passed. Somewhat. When his worry starts to dissipate, he remembers that Jax had actually called him first, not the hospital. When he calls Jax back, the first thing he says is that he’s taking time off, and Jax doesn’t protest. They discuss what happened and that it is now a government matter, and something that expands past OIA boundaries. The short version of the conversation is that someone from a different timeline had managed to worm their way into this one, and harm you. Someone with striking similarity to himself. 

Now that Kenshi has calmed down and knows you’re safe, he understands why the nurses and the law enforcement seemed tense around him. It unnerves him, to say the least. That another version of himself would hurt you. His heart, his guiding light. It’s also an entirely new threat that he hadn’t accounted for. Once discharged from the hospital, you have all of his attention. He’s oh so gentle with you, like any little touch and you’ll crack. He does every chore around the house for weeks, until you’ve fully healed. He cooks a lot (with the help of Sento), even bathes you (despite your protests). It’s his way of an apology for what happened, and not just that, but an apology for being with him. He holds immense regret over this, knowing that– even if it was another him from another timeline– he did this.

⎯ Kung Lao

Kung Lao is… protective, alright. And that often gets swept up within his cockiness. Of course, you do feel pretty safe with him. Maybe not around the hat, but you do feel safe around him. Aside from his interesting choice of weapon, he’s a great martial artist. And also just someone who’s really nice to cuddle with. He’s a Shaolin Master, of course he’s going to be a horrifying opponent.

And, there would be hell to pay if anyone hurt his love. He isn’t just all bark. Even the thought of you being hurt has him seething, he tends to overthink. There’s a lot of things that have made him realize that he may be a high value target– even if he can’t help but think he’s done nothing to get to that point. But, under Liu Kang, and just the title ‘Defender of Earthrealm’, there’s some sort of pride that lingers. Something that makes him want to challenge anyone and everyone he can, tell them to ‘bring it on’.

But not at the expense of you. The one thing bigger than his ego? His heart. So, when you stride into Wu Shi Academy,– though, limp is the better term– all cut up and bruised, barely able to speak or see, there’s a rage that burns within Lao. One that even Raiden hasn’t seen. He can’t help but run his mouth about how he’ll teach whoever the hell got to you a lesson. But he’s also despondent, he barely touches his food, he barely shows up to Madame Bo’s… and that makes her worried, until she learns about what happened to you from Raiden. Now not only does the culprit have a bastard with a really sharp hat after them, but the most badass little old lady after them, too. Madame Bo loves you like one of her own, really. She dotes on you, where she’ll normally scold the boys. You are her golden child.

Ultimately, their shared hunt leads to a dead end. Your mind is too hazy to remember anything aside from a silhouette, before getting beaten senseless. As much as Lao seems hellbent on tracking the culprit down, he ultimately gives up when you ask him. But, as you recover, he seems to be in much better spirits. He likes to curl up next to you at night (despite the monks telling him not to), just to reassure him that you’re safe. And Madame Bo arguably puts on more of a show than Lao does. She treats you with free food every day of your recovery, and when you’ve got clearance to be walking around without supervision again, she’s made a FEAST for you. While it feels all sunshine and rainbows once you’ve recovered, Kung Lao works tirelessly to get better. He blames himself, mainly for the fact that no matter what he did, he couldn’t find the one who did this to you. Even if you tell him outright that it is okay. It’s another mark on his list of failures, to him.

⎯ Raiden

When he got the amulet, Raiden didn’t exactly have it down. It took a great deal of focus and strength to hone it, more than he’s known. Sure, there have been some points where it feels like he’s got it down, like he can actually control the lightning. But before the tournament, he had a hard time controlling it, and spent many days doing his best to hone this new power. It was exhausting, and took a toll on him, both physically and mentally. He might have been trained nearly his whole life in martial arts, but that doesn’t necessarily correlate to any sort of magic.

However, it is his connections that ground him. Kung Lao, yes. But you, mainly. Normally, his training sessions with the amulet consist of him trying not to fry Lao, while you sit by and encourage him. A positive environment encourages progress, right? That’s what Raiden thinks, anyway. And all things considered, he’s doing well today. The lightning had been easily tamed, Lao hadn’t been zapped, and all was well.

While training with a staff, however, one wrong move sends a strike horrifyingly close to you. You barely register what happened, the loud bang by your right is followed by a popping feeling, like you’ve been in high altitude, a sharp pain through your eardrum, and then a dull ringing in your right ear. Raiden comes running up to you near immediately, checking over you. Your mind spins at how fast things happened, so you can’t necessarily explain clearly to him what you felt. Before you can collect yourself, Raiden is suddenly set on high-alert, and hauling you away to the medics at Wu Shi. Even Lao is a little confused as he follows after the two of you.

At the medics, you’re able to piece everything together. Ruptured eardrum, and Raiden can’t help but blame himself for it. When you’re getting checked over, Raiden is pacing outside, and Lao is trying desperately to calm him down. It had been a fear of his since the very start of his training. But as time went on and you went unharmed… it started to slip into the back of his mind. He feels horrible for letting go of that worry, for letting it happen. And when the medics let you go and tell you that it’ll heal in a couple weeks, you do your best to comfort him next to Lao. When it’s just you two, however, Raiden is a lot more calm. The adrenaline of the moment got to him earlier. Still, all he feels he can do is apologize, as much as you assure him it’s fine. Over the next couple of weeks, he’s very, very mindful of himself. He’s practically banned you from his training sessions, he makes sure to approach you from your left side or make his presence known if he’s coming up from behind you.

⎯ Zeffeero

There’s not much Rain has to worry about in his day-to-day life, even with his status as High Mage. He knows his title holds weight, but he believes that if he spends all his time worrying, something will happen sooner or later, and he’ll be more of a mess if it comes true. He’s more worried about his actual duties, coming home to you (almost) every night, and what books he will read on his days off.

That being said, he isn’t able to spend all his time with you. Which is a bummer, really. His job isn’t necessarily ‘remote’. He doesn’t worry over you too much, he knows you’re strong enough to cover for yourself. And those who are against him and the royalty should be smarter and focus their attention towards him and Sindel. Keyword, should.

So, when Zeffeero is met by the couriers during his duties, he’s confused. The only words he can make out in their frantic speech is your name, and hostage. Which snaps him out of his normally calm demeanor. But, regardless, he does his best to stay collected. He gets the couriers to explain the situation clearly, that Sindel’s detractors had chosen you out of all people to make an example. The good news is that it was dealt with just as quickly as you had been taken away, criminals don’t really get their way so easily in Sun Do, especially.

But that doesn’t mean they didn’t do a number on you. Rain immediately puts his work to the side and meets you at the infirmary. You’re pretty beat up, a couple bruises on your arms and a gash on your forehead, and the medics inform him that you’ll need to stay here for at least another week, you’ve gotten a couple of bruised ribs, as well. For the next couple of days, he is by your bedside, perfectly on time when the medics open up visiting hours. He’ll even do his work by your side, filling countless journals and going through way too many reports as he does.

⎯ Tomas Vrbada

Stealth missions require the utmost focus, especially ones of this caliber. Tomas is confident in your ability, so he doesn’t worry unnecessarily over you. But his mind can tend to wander sometimes. Still, he does his best to remain on track, stalking through the rampart. It was a simple recon mission, keep an eye on the territory. It had been left abandoned after the events of Armageddon, but there had been indications that Bi-Han was looking to start something there again. Considering the cyberization of the Lin Kuei, Kuai Liang and Tomas agreed to simply check it out, make sure nothing was being done.

And they were right to be suspicious. Either out of paranoia, or a hunch, Bi-Han had sent scouts as well. This makes the operation a lot more high-risk, both parties may be aware of each other, but have no idea where the other is. It looks as if there’s a rather hefty amount of spies in the rampart as well. As Tomas stalks through the tops of the wall, searching for anything slightly out of place, he gets the sudden feeling that he’s being watched.

Just as he raises his head, he hears the thwip of a bow string, causing him to jerk away from his position. An arrow flies past his head, a few centimeters from it, and as he follows it’s trajectory, he sees you, across the rampart. Fighting with two ninjas, doing your best to, well, stay alive. Realizing that you two are horribly outnumbered, he completely ignores the archer behind him. Utilizing his practical magic, he wastes no time disappearing and taking off. It’s not as easy as it sounds, practically throwing himself off the wall and doing what he can to make it across the rampart. As adrenaline rushes through him, his actions are near mindless, reckless, jumping over stray ballistas and rubble.  Does he know that this could put his life at risk? That it puts the mission at risk? Yes. But there’s a tiny voice inside of him that screams at him, tells him you are much more important than the mission. He got the intel anyways.

Things blur together for Tomas after that. He can’t remember exactly how he reached you, he can’t remember what he did with the two ninjas, the only thing that brings him back to the present moment is the pained breaths of yours and heaved gasps. He’d been singing some lullaby that he couldn’t remember the name of, his voice cracking here and there. His throat is raw, blood pouring from a head wound, and he can’t tell if the blood coating his arms is from you, who lay motionless (but thankfully breathing) in his arms, the ninjas, or his own. He’s barely noticed that he’s made his way to Harumi’s house. Not to Kuai Liang– to Harumi. Which, eventually, the knowledge that you’ve been hurt and that the Lin Kuei are pushing to claim territory over the Rampart. When Harumi guides the two of you to a room while she calls for the medics, all Tomas can do is blame himself. He’s spaced out the entire time, the only thing that snaps him out of his catatonic state is when they try to separate the two of you. He doesn’t let them. He doesn’t let anyone separate you from him. He’s too scared that he will lose you.

⎯ Baraka

While the restrictions on those inflicted with Tarkat have been lifted slightly, there is still some public animosity towards Tarkattens. And some of those people tend to direct their anger at those who support this decision, or those close to those afflicted with Tarkat. And unfortunately, you just so happen to be one of those people.

You aren’t entirely vocal about your relationship with Baraka, but you aren’t entirely quiet about it, either. The only reason Baraka doesn’t talk about you two is because he is afraid of what could happen to you. It doesn’t matter if the public’s opinion will turn, if there will ever be a cure, he has always been distant. He loves you, and good god, he’d do anything to even hold your hand. But he is afraid. He can’t help but be afraid of what will happen to you.

And rightfully so, when you are visiting Sun Do with Baraka. It’s a routine visit, to talk about how to integrate precautions for those with Tarkat, and how the vaccine progress is coming along. It feels like hours in a stuffy room, talking with Mileena. Eventually, you step out for a moment, to get some fresh air, and to clear your head. Unfortunately, one of the people against the aid for Tarkattens takes this as an opportunity to attack you in broad daylight.

Luckily, you don’t have to suffer much. A couple of kicks and hits that have left a couple of bruises, but the Constabulary was able to pull them off you quickly. The commotion brings Mileena and Baraka out, which leaves you feeling a little flustered. Needless to say, the talks for that day are cut short, and Baraka spends his time worrying about you. He asks you to stay in Sun Do for a while, that he can handle the talks himself now.

⎯ Syzoth

Syzoth’s biggest fear is Shang Tsung. Even after all is said and done, the fear still lingers. With his past, he can’t help but worry, especially about you. He wants to imagine a future with you, and he’s more than content with the days you two spend together, but he will never be able to shake the idea of his happiness being ripped from him again. While he is still all cuddly with you, there is something always gnawing at him. An eternal dread.

And his fears come true, in some way. He had to leave home for a couple of days, out on official business. It was nothing major, nothing that would pull him from you for longer than a week. Integrating yourself along with Zatterans was a challenge alright, something you didn’t mind facing. Syzoth had said it was a good way to get them used to humans, to earthrealmers.

However, when he comes back home, he is greeted by you, with a black eye, and multiple, bandaged, gashes down your arms. You smile at him warmly, despite your injuries, which have had at least two days to heal. He’s stunned, and after a moment of silence, he’s all over you, asking question after question. Despite what he asks, he knows what the Zatterans have done to you.

He tells himself he should’ve known, as they had killed those with his mutation, he should’ve known that they would’ve treated you the same. You can’t give him exact details, you can’t even give him a description. It happened all too fast, and you were helpless in the moment. He spends the next week by your side, never leaving, unless it was for food, or necessities. When you two are out, he’s very diligent about his surroundings, and those around them. Most of the Zaterrans express their apologies to you, even if it wasn’t them, which makes Syzoth even more wary about who he should be keeping an eye on.  

⎯ Havik

Danger comes with the territory of dating Havik. Yeah, he keeps you close, but he’s wanted. And he’s well aware, he tends to get himself in fights quite often. If you wanna participate? Hells yeah, he’s all in. But if you’d rather sit back, hide away, anything like that, he doesn’t mind. Even if he prefers a more active partner on the battlefield. Just because he’s got his anarchic ways and enjoys a little bloodbath every now and then, doesn’t mean he’s thrown care and (at least) sympathy into the wind. Granted, it’s hard to coax that reaction out of him.

But, it’s different with you. His heart; quite literally. He’d do anything for you, he’s (almost) as obedient as a dog. But when he gets to watch you in kombat… it’s a treat. He’s like actually drooling. He’s got a twisted sort of smile on his face when you slash through enemies. Sometimes just the thought of it makes him blush. He’s a little fucked up, actually! But for a being who thrives on chaos, that’s the norm.

When it comes to you being injured, if it’s just a little nick, (which is categorized very loosely; can be deep cuts, slashes, not just a scrape) he doesn’t find any reason to retaliate against your assailant. Havik is proud to have a lover that can take care of things themselves, but that doesn’t mean he won’t leap at the chance to tear someone limb from limb. Especially if you’re wounded near fatally. That’s when any semblance of humanity leaves him. He’s brutal, horribly so, and for once, you have to turn your head away.

When the fight’s done, Havik returns to you, covered in blood and viscera. He made it quick, as much as he would’ve enjoyed making it slow and painful, he knows that time is of the essence. Given his situation, he can’t really take you anywhere. So a little impromptu ‘healing’ session is underway. Some alcohol (that’s 100% not stolen) and some pressure to make sure the bleeding stops and that you don’t get an infection. After, he’s got to stitch up the wound. As he does so, he’s murmuring praises,– a rare thing from him, really– doing his best to make this as painless as possible.

⎯ General Shao

There is no greater place than the battlefield to Shao. It is something he grew up on, and to be fighting side by side with his beloved, it fills him with pride. Of course, he knows the dangers, he knows there’s a target on his back, but he could care less. He almost revels in it. Yes, he’ll worry about you, but he also knows that you can handle yourself.

But that doesn’t mean he isn’t above teaching those who choose to hurt you a lesson. He’s sensible, he’s strong, and he’s just a little, teensy weensy bit protective of you. Of course, you can handle fights on your own. But it’s when the enemies got you in a tough spot, managed to daze you, anything like that. That’s when Shao lets hell break loose.

A sword pierces through your arm, and while it’s not fatal, the minute Shao sees it, he’s raging. A bloody warpath follows him as he marches towards the assailant, the opponent he had been fighting long forgotten. He can’t gloss over an injury like that, he is unsure if they had cut through the brachial artery. So he makes it quick, practically splitting them in two as you watch. The battle continues to rage on, but all Shao can do is huff and encourage you to make an escape,– mainly because he’s afraid you might bleed to death– even if you don’t want to.

At the end of it all, you oblige, retreating and making it to the field medics. You are glad to hear that they did not cut through your brachial artery, and that you won’t bleed to death. But the gash in your arm still needs treatment. You’re stuck in that tent for quite a bit, mourning the loss of a good fight. That is, until Shao interrupts. He’s barely pulled back the tarp of the entrance, and he’s already looking for you. And when he spots you, lying down with a defeated look, bored as hell, he’s at your side within an instant. He needs to know the damage, if it’ll take you out of combat, etc etc. He quietly worries over you, which is quite charming in its own way.

⎯ Shang Tsung

Shang Tsung is no pushover. He may be despised, he may have been outcast, but that doesn’t mean he’ll stand there and take it. Especially when it comes to you. He’s a bit of a drama queen, sure, but he’s charming. Even after everything, it seems like people won’t forgive him. They aren’t wrong to leave him unforgiven, either.

But, their anger should be pointed towards him. So when he receives a letter for ransom via courier, he’s rightfully pissed. How dare they take his sunshine away from him, all because of what he’s done. What he’s done. And to try and rip him off, as well. You aren’t worth a mere 50,000 koins! You’re worth at least 5mil! Needless to say, he’s fuming.

What’s he going to do? Ask the Constabulary to help? No! He’s more than capable of handling it himself. A little dirt on his hands never hurt anybody. Time is short, so he rushes over the details. A couple sleepless nights spent scouting, collecting any sort of information, and he’s off to a shabby little shack in the wastes. The audacity of these people to not only take you from him, demand 50k koins, but also keep you in some run-down place! As much as he’s nitpicking what they’ve done to you, he’s doing it to calm himself down. Yeah, he’s got this in the bag, but any one taking his love from him, especially with malicious intent, makes him scarier than his most evil counterparts.

It is there where Shang Tsung finds out the kidnappers haven’t necessarily… prepared. Only two captors, and they’re dealt with easily. Torn into like meat, left to rot. He disregards their state, food for the vultures and whichever desperate soul wanders past. You’re a mess, head down, mind hazy, legs weak. He treats you like a knight saving his darling, picking you up bridal style. He coos at you, whispering things like ‘you’re alright’, and ‘I’m here now’ as he takes you away.

⎯ Reiko

It’s a calm evening, paired with a little sparring. As Reiko watches you train an over-ambitious rookie, he seems lost in thought. Why? It’s unsure. It feels like he’s simply lost his grip lately, he feels that he hasn’t been doing well in combat, and has actually regressed with his progress. Seeing you humble the soldier over and over again somehow reminds him of this, telling himself he needs to catch up on his training, build on his weaknesses.

It’s a subtle snap that brings him back to reality. It seems the trainee had enough of your teaching, and didn’t quite enjoy the lessons you were drilling– punching– into them. They’ve managed to pin you down, thanks to a very direct, very heated punch to the face. They’ve got you in a headlock, spouting nonsense at you like you’ve greatly offended them. You groan, so close to yelling out uncle. But, you’ve gotta admit, you like their fire. Even if it severely clouds their judgment.

Reiko is quick to pull them off of you, grabbing them by the nape as if they were a dog. It’s a little bit of a struggle, mainly the trainee squirming and protesting like a child who’s been denied candy. It’s shameful for him, but the very thought of the runt taking advantage of the moment to hurt you makes him believe they are unbefitting of a soldier. And it makes him a little pissed. He’s lecturing them, doing his best to hold back some very choice words. All the while you’re nursing your possibly broken nose, trying to get Reiko to let up on them. Eventually, you just shoo them away, and then give Reiko his own lecture. They’re your student, so they’ll get your discipline.

He’s not the best at consoling you, especially over something that he’s deemed ‘minor’. A quick ‘are you okay?’ and a nod is all he really gives you. But, after you’ve ended the training session early, and confirmed that your nose isn’t broken, Reiko picks up the opportunity to hone in his skills. Given the fact that you still had time left in your schedule, you take up his offer.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | star header by roseschoices

DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[dianawinchester03]

Season 1, Episode 1 - Pilot

Series Masterlist

Y/N’s POV

"Listen to me and listen to me good Y/N L/N. Don't come back if you go out there on your own, don't call, don't text, pretend I'm dead!"

I jolt awake, buckets of sweat pouring down my head. I don't realize I'm crying until I feel my eyes burn. A stinging migraine takes over, pressure building up in my head. I gotta stop dreaming about that over and over. It was probably one of the worst days of my life.

Checking the time I see it's 5 am. I'm only a couple hours away from Jericho now, I took a pit stop at midnight because I was exhausted and still kinda hungover from the night before. Which is weird because I usually don't get hungover.

More or less I'm trying to avoid sleep because of these stupid nightmares, as hunters we don't get much sleep regardless but we're only human...until we're not. Pushing the blanket off of me, I climb out of bed and get ready for the day ahead of me. My heart skips a beat for a second, remembering I'm gonna be seeing Dean....and Sam obviously. I'm more excited to see my best friend of many years.

I think about calling my dad. I initially decide against it but I give in. He's still my old man. Growing up my dad always had high expectations of me when it came to hunting. It's clear he expected me to be psychic like my mom but after I turned 18 and nothing came, his disappointment was clear.

Mom's abilities helped him out a lot when they hunted together, according to dad, she couldn't predict the future as much but she more or less communicated with the dead on ghost cases along with her telekinetic powers. It came it handy whenever they needed to gank a monster.

The look in my fathers eyes when he talks about my mom, breaks my heart everytime. You can see how much he loved her, I could only imagine how much she loved him.

After taking a shower I try to call Dean but it goes to voicemail. So I just shoot him a quick text that I'll be in Jericho before lunch.

I put my phone to my ear after dialing my dads number and hitting call. In seconds I get an answer. "Y/n/n? Is everything okay??" My dads voice is more rugged than usual, clearly he was asleep. Concern seeping through his voice. "I'm fine daddy, I just missed you. I called to see if everything is alright?" Tears sting slightly from my eyes. God I'm such a pussy.

"I'm great baby, I'm surprised to hear from you-not that I don't want to. I'm just happy you called" He breaths out relieved. "Great well Dean called me, told me his dad was missing. I just wanted to let you know I'm gonna be meeting up with them." I say quickly as I check out of the motel room and make way to my beautiful Quinn after checking out, doubling checking to make sure I have everything.

"Understood. Update me along the way? Maybe we can do a case of our own soon?" He asks hopefully. "Yeah maybe, we'll see. I gotta go daddy. Bye, love you" I shock myself saying 'love you' I haven't told dad that in years. I grew up always saying it to my dad and whoever we considered family. The habit just stuck.

Hopping on my bike and starting her, I'm off to whatever adventure awaits.

________________________________

Third Person POV

"Goddamnit Dean where are you?" Y/N mutters to herself after calling Dean for the millionth time only to go to voice mail. This feels like karma. She decides to say screw it and go herself, hopefully they show up within the time or Dean calls back. She's still in her casual attire. A grey tank top, layered with a red flannel covered in her favorite leather jacket. Paired with combat boots.

Currently on the Sylvania Bridge, a bunch of cop cars blocking a crime scene. A deputy on the bridge speaking to some divers down in the river asks them. "Did you guys find anything?!"

"No! Nothing!" The diver responds. The deputy turns around to see Y/N. "Woah miss no civilians" He goes to usher her out of the premises. She pulls out her fake federal marshal badge and flashes it to the Deputy Jaffe according to his name tag. He seems to take the bait with a nod.

A fake smile plastered on her face "Federal Marshal, got called in on my day off. So what seems to be the situation brothers in blue?" Y/N asks nicely. "Still trying to piece it together ourselves, pretty lady. No sign of struggle. No footprints. No fingerprints. It's spotless. It's almost too clean" The other deputy investigating the car in question answers her question.

Stooping down next to Jaffe, out of view to look at the car herself. She recognizes the roar of Baby's engine. Smirking to herself as the officers talk about the boy that's missing, Troy Squire. "So this kid Troy, he's dating your daughter isn't he?" Jaffe asks Hein. "Yeah" Hein confirms.

"Hows Amy doing?" Jaffe asks. "She's putting up missing posters downtown" Hein responds. "You fellas had another one like this just last month didn't you?" Dean voice booms, surprising the deputies. "Who are you" Jaffe asks suspiciously. "They're with me deputy" Y/N covers for them, now standing up in view. A shocked yet happy look takes over Sam's face and a smirk rising on Dean's, eyeing her up and down for a split second. They both quickly recover now back to their serious faces.

"You fellas took a pit stop? Was expecting ya earlier" She says to the boys. Crossing her arms over her chest "You lot a little young for federal marshals aren't you?" Jaffe says, still suspicious. "Thanks. That awfully kind of you" Dean chuckles cockily, causing Y/N to roll her eyes. "You did have another one just like this, correct?" Dean presses his question, walking around the side of the car where Hein is.

"Yeah that's right. About a mile up the road. There've been others before that" Jaffe confirms. "So the victim. You knew him?" Sam asks. "Town like this. Everybody knows everybody". Jaffe nods. "Any connections between the victims besides the fact that they're all men?" Y/N asks curiously. "No, not so far as we can tell" Jaffe says.

"So what's the theory?" Sam asks as he moves follows Deans movements to the side of the car in question and Y/N follows Sam. "Honestly? We don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?" Jaffe says honestly.

"Well that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect from you" Dean says sarcastically. Sam stamps on his foot and Y/N elbows him in his ribs the same time. A smile on his face towards the deputy while Jaffe looks at the trio suspiciously.

"Thank you for your time" Y/N says, a sweet smile on her face. "Gentleman" Sam greets the officers before walking past Dean. Y/N and Dean following behind. Y/N sees the seething look on Deans face. "Don't you dare think about it Winchester" She mumbles. Dean huffs, tapping his brother on his head and Y/N rolls her eyes.

"Ow! What was that for?!" Sam mutters angrily to his brother. "Why you gotta step on my foot?" He says back angrily "And you missy, why you gotta elbow my ribs" He points his finger at Y/N, rubbing his right ribs. "Why do you have to talk to police like that?" Y/N retorts back angrily. The argument between the three subsides as Sam turns to Y/N, a smile on his face.

He wraps his arms around her shoulders, pulling her in for a hug. "I missed you too Sammy" Y/N says chuckling at the sudden affection, though she meant it. "I didn't know you were coming" Sam says smiling.

He ruffles her hair as they pull away from the hug. "Dean called me, told me your dad hasn't been home in a couple days. Looks like I'm on the family emergency contact list" Y/N jokes, looking over at Dean, his head to the floor slightly. Indicating he's feeling a bit left out.

"Come here youuu" She says teasingly, wrapping her arms around Deans shoulders. His arms automatically go around her waist, burying his face in her neck, he smiles into the hug. Sam smirks at this and wiggles his eyebrows at his eyebrows at his brother suggestively. Knowing where Sam is getting at Dean flips off his younger brother the bird, meanwhile Y/N is oblivious to this.

"Still a short stack aren't ya princess" Dean teases. Y/N pulls away, tapping Dean on his shoulder while Sam laughs, agreeing with Dean. "Shut it you morons, I can still kick both your asses" Y/N threatens them, pointing her fingers at the brothers while they chuckle.

"Those cops don't know squat. If we're gonna find your dad, we gotta get to the bottom of this thing ourselves" Y/N changes the subject. Sam looks over her shoulder, clearing his throat. An man who looks like the sheriff with two real FBI agents behind him asks the trio. "Can I help you guys?"

"No sir, we were just leaving" Dean says and they begin walking to their respective vehicles. Not before mocking the two agents "Agent Mulder, Agent Scully" Y/N says. Dean biting back a laugh at her humor.

"You still driving that gorgeous 67' I see" Y/N eyes Baby up and down, wolf whistling. "Course I am, Baby's a chick magnet here" Dean smirks proudly, patting the hood of the Impala. Y/N snorts and Sam rolls his eyes. "Still riding that stunning Harley I see" Dean nods over to her bike. "Course I am. She's my pride and joy" Y/N smirks, echoing Deans words.

Picking up her helmet "Race you to town?" She challenges. "You're on, Princess" Dean retorts, jumping in baby and they're off.

________________________________

Now walking through town, Dean spots a young lady putting up missing persons posters with Tory Squire on them. Putting two and two together , this must be the deputy's daughter "I'll bet you that's her" He says. "Yeah" Sam agrees.

They walk up to her "You must be Amy" Dean inquires. "Yeah" she confirms. "Troy told us about you, we're his uncles and aunt. I'm Dean, this is Sammy and this is Y/N" Dean introduces everybody. "He never mentioned you to me" Amy says walking away, they follow behind her.

"Yeah, that's Troy. I guess. We're not around much, we're up in Modesto" Dean lies causally. "So we're looking for him too and we're kind of asking around" Sam says and a young lady who seems to know Amy asks her "Hey you okay?"

"Yeah" Amy reassures. "You lovely ladies mind if we ask you a couple questions?" Y/N asks the girls nicely, hoping to make them less weary. They agree.

Y/N's POV

We're all now sitting in a diner booth. The girls across from us. Sam on the inner part of the booth, me in the middle and Dean to the end. His arm rests on the top of the seat, practically around me.

"I was on the phone with Troy, he was driving home. He said he would call me right back. And, uh, he never did" Amy explains the events of the night Troy went missing. "He didn't say anything strange? Or out of the ordinary?" Sam inquires. "No, nothing I can remember" Amy shakes her head.

"Here's the deal ladies" Dean says leaning forward, arms now on the table. "The way Troy disappeared. Somethings not right. So if you've heard anything..." Dean trails off and I notice the girls have a skeptical look in their faces. Looking at each other. They're hiding something.

"What is it girls?" Y/N asks. "Well it's just ....I mean with all these guys going missing. People talk" Amy's friend says. "What do they talk about?" Sam and Dean say in perfect unison, causing me to jump a bit. Jesus. Brothers.

She looks at Amy before continuing "Its kinda this local legend. This one girl, she got murdered out on Centennial, like, decades ago. Well supposedly, she's still out there. She hitchhikes. And whoever picks her up. Well they...disappear forever" She finishes and the tree of us share a look.

We're in the library now. Deans researching the info the girls gave us on the computer and sitting between me and Sam. No hits come on on 'Murder on Centennial'. "Let me try" Sam goes to take the keyboard but Dean slaps his hand away harshly "Got it" he says annoyed.

Sam pushes him away, rolling his chair behind his and I snicker at their childish behavior. "Dude!" He exclaims, tapping Sams shoulder "You're such a control freak" he grumbles, fixing his chair behind the two of us. And Sam types. Then something dawns on me.

"Wait, aren't angry spirits born out of violent death?" I ask. "Yeah" Dean nods confirming. I push Sams chair away "Dude!" He exclaims like Dean did, tapping my shoulder. Dean snickers at the instant karma. I type on the computer "Maybe it's not murder" I say and I type 'Suicide on Cenntenial' and got a hit on an article.

"Sharp thinking princess" Dean smirks, patting me on the small of my back. I smirk "Thanks charming". Sam begins reading the article. "1981. Constance Welch, 24 years old jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in river" Sam reads out loud. "Does it say why she did it?" Dean asks "Yeah" I say. "What?" Dean asks.

"An hour before they found her, she calls 911. Her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute and when she comes back. They're not breathing. Both die" I briefly summarize the article, skimming through it. "Hmm" Dean hums.

"Our babies were gone, and Constance just couldn't bear it. Said husband, Joseph Welch" Sam quotes the article and I notice a picture of the bridge we were on earlier. "That bridge look familiar to you fellas?" I ask rhetorically, pointing to the picture on the screen.

Later in the night we were at the bridge where Constance jumped to her death. We walk to the edge, looking down. "So this is where Constance took the swan dive" Dean says. I grimace at the sight of the dirty mucky water. The scent filling my nose and I resist the urge to gag.

"So you think your dad would have been here?" I ask, while we all look down at the river. "Well he's chasing the same story and we're chasing him" Dean says and we all begin to walk down the bridge. "Okay so now what?" Sam asks. "Now we keep digging till we find him. Might take a while" Dean says.

"Dean, I told you I have to get back..." Sam starts and they both finish "...By Monday" they say in unison. Brothers. Scares me everytime.

"Right. The interview. Yeah I forgot" Dean nods. "You're really serious about this aren't you" I ask Sam, crossing my arms over my chest. "You think you're just gonna become some lawyer. Marry your girl?" Dean says. "Maybe. Why not?" Sam shrugs.

"Does Jessica know the truth about you? About what you've done?" Dean presses. "No and she's not ever going to know" Sam says, walking up to Dean and I. I stand in-between them, already knowing somebody's gonna either get pushed or punched. "Well that's healthy." Dean retorts sarcastically . "Come on Dean, don't start" I warn him calmly, putting my hand on his shoulder.

"No y/n/n, he can pretend all he wants. But, sooner or later, you're gonna have to own up to who you really are Sammy" Dean walks back down the bridge towards Baby after saying this. Sam follows behind "And who's that?" Sam queries, agitation in his voice. "One of us" Dean says as if it's obvious, gesturing between me and him.

"No, I'm not like either of you. This is not going to be my life" Sam says kinda disgusted. Ouch, but valid. "You have a responsibility" Dean says. "To Dad? And his crusade?" Sam says, his eyes welling with tears. "If it weren't for pictures. Me and y/n wouldn't even know what our moms look like." Ohhhh boy, here we go. The look on Deans face alone could scare a toddler.

"What difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed them...they're gone. And they're never coming back" Sam finishes and Dean pushes me gently to the side from in between them. He grabs Sam and slams him against the edge of the bridge. "Woah Dean! Easy!" I try pulling Dean off of his brother but his grip is too strong.

"Don't talk about them like that" Deans tone is deadly. He lefts Sam go and turns to me. "Sorry for pushing you Princess" He says sincerely, I nod reassuring him. I look behind him and I see a woman standing at the ledge of the bridge in a white dress. "Uh....fellas...." I point at the woman. They look in the direction I'm pointing at. She turns to look at us for a second before allowing herself to fall off.

We all run towards the area where she threw herself. Looking over the edge, we don't see anything. "Where'd she go?" Dean asks. "I don't know" Sam breathes out. All of a sudden we hear Baby's engine starting. Her headlights flickering. "What the....." Dean says stunned.

Then Quinn starts, her engine roaring. The headlights flicker just like Dean's car. "Who the hell is driving your car and bike?" Sam asks us. Me and Dean hold out the keys to our vehicles, still stunned. Then the Impala and Harley tires start screeching, driving towards us. "Boys! Go! GO!" We all split into action, running away from the vehicles.

They gain on us and the three of us hurl ourselves off the edge of the bridge. Me and Dean end up slipping off the ledge, falling into the river while Sam grabs onto the ledge and pulls himself back up when the coast is clear. Baby and Quinn come to a stop.

Me and Dean fish ourselves out of the mucky water, laying on the shore edge. "Dean! Y/N!" Sam screams before seeing us. "Hey, you guys alright?" He asks worried. "We're super" Dean yells back sarcastically and I give him a weak thumbs up. Sam laughs at our state and we go to make our way back up the bridge.

I pull myself up and give my hand to Dean who's still laying on the floor like he's half dead. "Get up piglet, we gotta get back up" I tease him while groaning in pain, he huffs taking my hand and pulling himself up. "Shut it, you're covered too" He chuckles while groaning in pain from the impact too.

We're back up on the bridge checking on our vehicles. Quinn seems alright and I'm sure so is Baby. "Your car and bike alright?" Sam ask the both of us. "Yeah whatever she did to it, it seems alright now" Dean says. I nod assuring that my bikes ok. "That Constance chick, what a bitch!!" I scream out over the bridge in frustration because she almost hurt my girl.

"Well she doesn't want us digging around that's for sure" Sam says. Dean leans on the hood of the Impala, I follow and so does Sam. "So, where's the trail go from here geniuses" Sam asks the both of us.

Dean throws his hands up in defeat, grimacing at the smelly mud all over our skin and I scoff. Sam smells the air before turning to us "You guys smell like a toilet" Neither of us answer, Dean's head drops while I turn to glare at Sam. He smirks at me snickering.

Now at a motel, Dean plops his credit card on the book in-front of the receptionist. "One room please"

The man picks up the card, looking at it in recognition. "You guys having a reunion or something?" The age-able man queries. My eyes cork up at this. "What do you mean?" Sam asks now curious. "That other guy Burt Aframian, he came and bought out a room for the whole month" The man tells us whilst typing on his computer to book us a room. The boys and I share a knowing look. John was here.

We find out what room John was in. Currently I'm on my knees picking the lock to room 10. Sam and Dean have their backs turnt to me, looking out incase someone sees us. After about a minute, I hear a click and I slide my trusty hairpin out of the knob.

I open the door and walk in but Sam and Dean don't seem to notice, still looking out. I grab them both by their collars and roughly pull them into the room, locking the door behind us. We look around the room for a couple seconds and Dean goes over to the lamp, turning it on.

I notice the walls lining with paper of what seems to be Johns research on the case he was working here. Dean spots a day old sandwich and sniffs it. Gagging at the smell. "Ugh" He plops the sandwich back down. "I don't think he's been here for a couple days at least" He states the obvious.

"Yeah, no kidding Sherlock" I say sarcastically and Dean rolls his eyes at my dry tone. Sam stoops to the ground, dusting it with his fingers to find "Salt. Cats-eye shells. He was worried. Trying to keep something from coming in" Sam says getting back up. Dean notices what I'm staring at, it's the victims.

"What do you got here?" Sam asks, walking over to us. "Centennial Highway victims" I state. "I don't get it." Dean says and I see Sam walking over to the other side of the room. "They're different men, different jobs, ages, ethnicities. There's always a connection right? What do these guys have in common?" Dean ponders.

I walk over to Sam, my eyes scanning for the lord written in the wall. I catch something at the corner of my eye, walking a couple steps I turn on the lamp and I nudge Sam to check it out. I internally laugh, shaking my head. John Winchester, you smart son of a bitch. Of course you figured it out.

Sam chuckles ironically "Dad figured it out" he says. "What do you mean?" Dean asks. "He found the same article we did. Constance Welch. She's our woman in white" I say. Dean turns back to the wall looking at the pictures of Constance's victims. "You sly dogs" he says almost as if he's complimenting the unfaithful presumably deceased men.

"Alright so if we're dealing with a Woman in White. Dad would've found the corpse and destroyed it" Dean states. "She might have another weakness" Sam says. "No. Dad would wanna make sure. He'd dig her up. Does it say where she's buried?" Dean asks walking over to us, looking at the notes on the wall.

"No, not that we can tell" Sam answers. "If I were your dad though, I'd go ask her husband" I say, point to the picture of Joseph Welch on the wall. "If he's still alive" Sam adds. "Alright why don't you see if you can find an address. Me and y/n gotta get cleaned up" Dean says and I clutch my duffel bag with my clothes on my shoulder.

"Hey guys?" Me and Dean turn to Sam. "What I said about Mom and Dad earlier. And your mom, y/n. I'm sorry" Sam says guiltily and sincerely. Dean puts up his hand stopping Sam. "No chick-flick moments" Dean says and Sam chuckles, I shake my head laughing. "Alright, Jerk" Sam says. "Bitch" Dean retorts.

"Oh shut it, you're a sucker for Notting Hill" I quipped teasing him, bumping Deans hip with mine causing Sam to laugh. "Hey! Julia Roberts don't count! That woman is a national treasure!" Dean exclaims defending himself. Sam bends over clutching his stomach in laughter. "Yeah...sure" I laugh ironically before pushing him when he least expects it.

"DIBS ON THE BATHROOM!" I yell, bolting to the bathroom whilst Dean stumbles on himself trying to catch his balance. I lock the door behind me quickly and Dean bangs on it. "Ahhh screw you ya nutcase!" He yells frustrated. "You wish asshat!" I retort back laughing and getting ready for my nice hot long shower.

After my shower, Dean goes in and me and Sam are left outside. Sam tried calling his girlfriend and I'm on the chair, smoking a cigarette by the window. Texting my dad and updating him about the case. Dean walks out of the bathroom, putting on his jacket and takes off the light.

"You used up all the hot water y/n" Dean says. I chuckle, taking the last puff of my cigarette and outing it. "Snooze you lose, Winchester" I smile widely at him, winking. He scoffs and chuckles at this. "I'm starving, I'm gonna grab something to eat at that diner down the street. You two want anything" He asks the both of us.

"No" Sam says. "Aframians buying" Dean says smiling and Sam shakes his head. "I'll take my usual please" I smile. "(Your favorite food/usual order) and (Your favorite soda/milkshake) coming right up, Princess" He smirks at me, winking. My heart flutters at that smile he gave me and the wink he sent my way. The fact that he remember my order. But I cover it up with returning the cocky wink "Thanks charming"

When Dean leaves I turn to Sam. We haven't really been alone for us to talk like we usually do so I take the chance now. "Hey Sammy?" I say softly. "It's Sam" he groans in annoyance at me calling him Sammy. "Whatever you say Sammy" I grin widely at him, getting back to my serious expression. He looks at me curiously. "What's wrong y/n/n?" He asks.

"I just want you to know. I don't blame you for going back to college after this case. Your brother might not be very warm and cuddly about it but you know how he is. He loves you and misses you. You're making the right choice" I say. He sighs sadly and I put my hand on his shoulder.

"You of all people deserved a shot at the Apple pie life. So does Dean. He would never admit it because he's too stubborn but he'd kill for the apple pie life you're hoping to achieve." I reassure Sam, he looks at me smiling sadly.

"You do too Y/N." He says softly. I take my hand off his shoulder shaking my head. "I don't want that. I'm where I need to be" I assure him and Sam chuckles shaking his head. "You're just as stubborn girly" He teases me and I lightly punch his shoulder. "Shut up dipshit" I say laughing.

"Never, crackhead" He laughs punching my shoulder back. God I missed my best friend. "I gotta say though" I say, a smirking taking over my face. "Jess is quite a foxy lady" I compliment his girlfriend and he smiles proudly.

"I'll never get what she sees in you" I added causing his smile to drop and me to laugh. "You're dead to me" he said flatly and I laugh louder. "I love you too Sammy" I pat his shoulder. I go to sit back down but my phone rings.

Metallica blurring from the ringtone of my phone. Sam gives me a "really?" look and I just roll my eyes taking my phone out of my pocket. It's Dean. "That's some speedy delivery. You're in for a great tip." I tease him over the phone but he doesn't respond with his usual banter.

"Guys. Five - 0. Take off." Dean says quickly. Me and Sam stand up now panicking on the low. "What about you?" Sam asks his brother concerned. "Ah, they kind of spotted me. Go find dad" Dean says and abruptly hangs up. Son of a bitch.

Me and Sam tiptoe over to the curtain by the front door. Pulling it open slightly we see a deputy walking towards it and Jaffe, the deputy from the bridge, questioning Dean. We hurry to the window I was smoking by and we open it up, grabbing our stuff we shimmy out fatasses out of the window and make a break for Baby.

We decided to go to Joseph Welch's house, husband of Constance Welch, the Woman in White, and question him. I settled for leaving Quinn at the motel as much as it broke my heart. The cops would've heard her if I started her.

________________________________

I knock on Mr. Welch's door. Within a couple seconds he opens it. He takes a second glance at me before looking at Sam. "Hi, are you Joseph Welch?" I ask nicely. "Yeah" he confirms, eyeing me up and down.

We're now walking through his yard and Sam shows him a photo of him, John and Dean from the 80s, asking Mr. Welch if he had come by at anytime. "Yeah. He was older but that's him" Mr. Welch confirms that John was here. "He came by three or four days ago. Said he was a reporter" he said.

"That's right. We're working a story together" Sam lies to keep our cover. "Well I don't know what the hell know of story you're working on. The questions he asked me..." Mr. Welch trailed off and I injected "About your late wife, Constance"

"He asked me where she was buried" He said. "And where was that again?" Sam asks and I mentally facepalm. Real smooth Sammy. Real smooth. "What? I gotta go through this twice" Mr. Welch said slightly agitated. "It's just fact checking sir, if you don't mind." I say calmly, he eyes me up and down again before nodding. Sam notices this too.

"In a plot, behind my old place over on Breckenridge." He tells us where she's buried. "Why did you move?" Sam asks. "I'm not gonna live in the house where my children died" Mr. Welch stated obviously. "Mr. Welch, did you ever marry again?" I ask him.

"No way, Constance. She was the love of my life. Prettiest woman I've ever known" He assures us as if he's trying to convince us and himself. "So you had a happy marriage?" Sam asks and Welch hesitates for a second before saying "Definitely" he says.

Sam and I share a look before he takes a deep breath. "Well that should do it sir. Thank for your time" I say we pretend to walk off. Sam takes out the keys to baby and I look at him with a "I'm gonna do it" look. He nods and I call out for Mr. Welch.

"Mr. Welch, you ever heard of a woman in white?" Welch turns around confused. "A what?" He asks. "A woman in white. Or sometimes a weeping woman" Sam repeats my words, explaining it further. "It's a ghost story. Well..." I start to explain and I chuckle. "It's more of a phenomenon, really" We start walking back towards Mr. Welch.

"They're spirits. They've been sighting for hundreds of years. Dozens of places" I say, looking over to Sam to continue. "In Hawaii, in Mexico. Lately in Arizona, Indiana." As he lists the places I hold up my fingers, counting them. "All these are different women you understand but all share the same story". Sam says

"Kids, I don't care much for nonsense" Mr. Welch says now aggravated, turning to walk off but I stop him. "See when they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful to them. And these women basically suffering from temporary insanity murdered their children. Then once they realized what they had done. They took their own lives" I explain and Sam takes over.

"So now their spirits are cursed. Walking backroads, waterways. And if they find an unfaithful man. They kill him. And that man is never seen again" Sam further digs. "You think.....You think that has something to do with....Constance. You smartasses!" Mr. Welch, now horrified at the possibility, breathes heavily.

"You tell me. You hesitantly claimed you had happy marriage but by the way you were checking out my friend here... I'd beg to differ" Sam says, his gaze soft. Ohhh that's cold. "I mean, maybe, maybe I made some mistakes, but no matter what I did, Constance, she never would've killed her own children. Now you two get the hell outta here! And you don't come back!" Mr. Welch shuns us angrily, shaking trying to hold back tears.

"Jesus Sam, that was a bit cold" I say as we walk back to the car. Sam sighs opening baby and jumping in, opening the passenger side from inside for me. "One man was unfaithful and now people are dying. I'm not saying they're saints but it's messed up" He says putting the car in reverse driving off.

I sigh, "That's the job for ya, hey, gimme your phone" without hesitation he gives me his phone "Sure, what for?" He asks while in dialing. "You'll see" I smirk putting the phone to my ear. I take my gun out from my waist, rolling down the window and aiming it out the window to the sky.

"Y/N what're you doing?" Sam questions now worried. I shush him with a finger to my lips. "911 what's your emergency?" The lady operator says on the line. I let out a fake scream and Sam now realizes what I'm doing, holding back his laughter.

"Help!! Please!! My husband and the neighbor are f- " I pull the trigger before I could finish the sentence. A ear piercing scream leaves my throat "HE HAS A GUN PLEASE!! HELP US!" Sam is biting his fist from laughing. "The blood!! Oh the blood! HONEY!!" I quickly give the operator address on the other side of where we are and hang up handing it back to Sam who is hysterical.

"You..really are ...a crackhead.." He says in-between laughs and I chuckle. "Whatever dipshit" I retort. Within a couple minutes my phone rings. I answer putting it on speaker. "Fake 911 phone call, princess. I don't know. That's pretty illegal. Aren't you a bad girl?" Dean teases me from over the phone.

I scoff rolling my eyes as Sam chuckles, grimacing at the last part of Deans sentence. "You're welcome, charming" I chuckle. "Listens guys we gotta talk" Dean starts to say but Sam interrupts. "Tell me about it. So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a Woman in White. And she's buried behind her old house so that should be our next stop."

Dean cuts Sam off "Sammy would you shut up for a second?" Dean tries to interject but Sam continues "We just can't figure out why he hasn't destroyed the corpse yet" Sam rambles. "Well that's what I'm trying to tell you two. He's gone. Dad left Jericho" Dean says.

"What? How do you know?" I say surprising, my mouth agape. "I've got his journal" Dean says. My jaw falls further, practically on the floorboard of Baby. "He doesn't go anywhere without that thing" Sam says. "Yeah, well, he did this time" Dean says. "What's it say?" I ask. "Same old ex-Marine crap, when he wants to let us know where he's going" Dean explains what's written.

"Coordinates. Where to?" Sam confirms. "Dean, what the hell is going on?" I question now confused and irritated by the vague messages John's leaving. Suddenly Sam hits the brakes of the car and my phone slips out of my hand. I catch a glimpse of the Woman in White infront of the car before he hurls straight through her.

"Sam! Y/N!?" I hear Dean yell for us from the phone that's now on the floorboard. Me and Sam try catching our breath. "Take me home" is all we hear, the woman in white appears in the back of the Impala. Looking at Sam. We don't answer and she says again, more irritated this time.

"Take.Me.Home" I can see her ghost flicker, I reach into my boots to grab to iron knuckle cuffs, gripping it in my hand "No" He says sternly, holding his ground. The doors of the car lock automatically, trapping us in. We try opening our sides but it's stuck. The Impala is now driving itself to Constance's old house where she killed her kids. Me and Sam still trying for the doors.

"GODDAMIT!!" I yell in frustration, punching the window with my iron knuckle cuff but it barely cracks. We pull up to her house, against our will, and baby shuts off. "Don't do this" I plead with her but she doesn't seem interested in me, expected. "I can never go home" She says in a somber voice, her ghost flickering.

"You're scared to go home" Sam says and it clicks. She's scared to face her kids. In a split second, she was in the middle of me and Sam. A force throws me to the backseat, pinning me down and she jumps on top of Sam, straddling him. "Get off of him you bitch!" I scream at her. "Hold me, I'm so cold" she breathes out needy.

I cringe at this and break out of her hold. I reach over and punch her with the iron knuckle cuff ring. She disapparates, but not for long. "You okay Sammy??" I reach over to help him, before he could answer. She appears back on his lap. Backing handing to the back seat. The knuckle cuffs fly out my hand and onto the floor in the back seat.

"You can't kill me, I'm not unfaithful I've never been" Sam argues, groaning in pain as she passes her hand along his skin. "You will be" she says before kissing him. "YOU SICK BITCH!" I try to get out of her hold but the force is too strong.

Sam struggles to turn the keys in the ignition. She disappears for a quick seconds and we both look around. Sam starts screaming in pain "SAM!!!" I yell, feeling powerless that I can't do more, I see the knuckle cuffs at the corner of my eye, I try reaching for it but it's too far.

She appears back on him, her face now decayed. Her fingers digging into Sam's chest. "NO!!" My voice is pained, still attempting to reach the cuffs. I finally get a hold of the cuffs, gunshots ringing through the driver seat window. I see Dean outside of the Impala shooting Constance.

"My hero" I grumble sarcastically to myself at the fact that Dean is shooting a ghost. I throw the iron cuffs at her again, this time seems to work a little better. Sam gets up and starts the car. "Take her home Sammy" I say and Sam nods curtly. Driving Baby head first into Constance's house to face her kids.

"Sam! Y/N!" Dean yells but the impact from the crash, throws me over into the front seat. How? Don't ask me. "Guys!?" Dean yells for us. "Here!" I yell back to catch his attention. "You two okay? Can you move?" He asks, moving a piece of wood from infront the window. "Yeah, help us" Sam says groaning in pain.

I feel a bump starting to form on my head. Dean pulls me out from the passenger side and I lean on the side of his car. Next taking Sam out. "There you go" He says holding Sam up and checking on me, I give him a thumbs up and we see Constance infront of us, holding an old picture of herself.

Her eyes flicker up to us angrily, she tosses the picture aside and a chest of drawers come hurling towards us, pinning us again the wall by our mid regions. We groan trying to push it off but it wouldn't budge. The lights in the house start flickering and we all look around.

The stairs starts leaking water, assuming that's foreshadowing the water she used to drown her kids. The boys and I look up the starts to see the shadow of two kids holding hands. "You've come home to us, Mommy." They say in unison, reminding me of when the boys speak in perfect unison.

Shit gave me the heebie jeebies.

They appear behind a terrified Constance and they start hugging. Constance is a screaming mess, her spirit flickering from decayed to her normal self. She and the kids spirit diminish, melting to the ground where the water from upstairs is leaking. That has got to be where she drowned them.

Once her spirit is gone, the boys and I look at each other. Grunting from the pain, we push the chest of drawer over with an ease compared to earlier. We walk towards the puddle of water. "So this is where she drowned her kids" Dean states the obvious. "Thats why she could never go home" I say and Sam nods. "She was too scared to face them" Sam confirms.

"You guys found her weak spot. Nice work kids" Dean pats Sam on his chest and me on my head and we laugh in pain. "Yeah I wish I could say the same for you. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?" Sam mocks his brother and I laugh rubbing my head. "Hey. Saved your asses" Dean defends, pointing at us.

"No smartass, it was my ironcuffs" I snort holding it up to show him, joining in on making fun of Dean. "Whatever" Dean grumbles. He puts his hands to his knees bending down. "I'll tell you another thing. If you guys screwed up my car....I'll kill ya both " He threatens me and Sam and I snicker.

"Yeah, be sure to burn my body. Before you shoot my ghost when I haunt ya" I quipped, Dean glares at me and Sam laughs and we high-five.

________________________________

Third Person POV

Sam and Dean are driving down the empty road. Y/N on her bike side by side to the Impala. Dean glances at her, admiring her physique. He admires her a lot, the way she handles herself on hunts. She did a hell of a job today. Growing up together he watched her go from a timid shy girl to a confident badass woman.

He holds her in high regard, never backing down from a fight. Her smartass mouth keeps him on edge, she always finds a way to keep him in his toes. Sure he dropped his flirty comments here and there and so did she. But Dean would never do anything to mess their friendship up.

He cherishes their friendship too much to allow himself to let his little crush ruin that. Even if he doesn't accept his feelings for her. Growing up together he protected her the way he did for Sam.

Feeling a sense of responsibility for her. He missed her this past year. He doesn't regret calling her to come on the search for their father, he feels bad never called before even though he wanted to.

She wanted her space to grow and he respected that, unlike her father.

Sam is talking Deans ear off about some place their dad should be after analyzing the coordinates he left in the journal for them. He realizes his brother isn't paying attention to him, looking over to see Dean staring at Y/N riding next to the Impala.

He smirks at this, knowing his brother has had a bit of a crush on Y/N for a couple years now. Y/N has liked Dean basically her whole life but would never admit it to Sam. To protect their friendship but he doesn't mind. They're good for each other. Too damn stubborn to admit it though.

"You're still crushing on her" Sam teases his brother, this sentence snaps Dean out of his daydreaming and his head spins to his younger brother. "The hell are you talking about? I do not have a crush on Y/N dude. She's like my little sister" Dean scoffs denying the fact.

Sam chuckles shaking his head. Stubborn ass.

"Yeah, sure" Sam says ironically, changing the subject, he tells Dean that their Dad went to Blackwater Ridge Colorado.

"How far?" Dean asks. "About 600 miles" Sam tells him, flashing the light on the map. "If we shag ass we could make it by morning" Dean says looking at Sam and back to Y/N next to baby.

Sam looks at his brother awkwardly. "Dean, um...." Dean turns away disappointed, staring at the road. "You're not going" He says turning back to Sam. "The interview is in like 10 hours. I gotta be there" Sam tries to reason with his brother.

Dean nods sadly, "Yeah. Yeah whatever. I'll take to home." He says and Sam turns the light off. Dean makes a turn to lead onto the highway.

Outside, Y/N notices this turn and follows them, she assumes they're dropping Sam back to Stanford. It saddens her to know she might not see her greatest friend for a long time but she knows it's for the best. It's what he deserves.

They arrive in front of Sam's apartment. Y/N parks her bike infront on the Impala and turns her engine off. She takes off her helmet and hops off her bike at the same time Sam is getting out of Deans car.

Taking her time to walk towards the brothers she hears Sam say, while he's leaning down to face Dean in the window after he closes the passenger door. "Maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?" Sam half promises. "Yeah all right" Dean nods, not convinced and Sam taps the door twice.

Dean starts his engine while Sam turns to Y/N. "Sam? Y/N?" He calls out for his brother and best friend. They turn to him. "You know we made a hell of a team back there." Y/N nods sadly "Yeah" he responds. Turning back to Y/N, he smiles at his longest friend sadly.

"Don't give me that look boy, you better lawyer it up when I call your ass from jail to bail me out" Y/N attempts to ease the situation by joking. Sam chuckles and pulls her into a hug. Wrapping his arms around her shoulder, she wraps hers around his waist.

Quickly wiping the tear that's been threatening to fall from her eyes so they don't see. He ruffles her hair for what he thinks is the last time and says "Hang in there kid". She scoffs lightly punching his shoulder.

"You're only a couple months older, now go before I kick your ass" she pretends to chase him while he walks to his apartment. Y/N sighs sadly, turning to the Impala and jumping in the passenger seat. She sees Dean isn't facing her, his eyes on the driver side window and that could only mean one thing.

Placing her hand on his shoulder she says, "He'll be okay Dean". He turns to her, his face stained in a couple tears. Her heart breaks seeing this "Come here" she ushers him to hug her, he leans into her chest. Allowing a couple more tears to fall from his eyes to her chest.

She comforts him as he always did her, reassuring him that Sam will be alright. That his little brother loves him. That she will always be there for him. Stroking his hair, she feels butterflies fill her stomach now realizing their position. She tells herself now is not the time or place.

Ignoring it but she can't help but feel something is wrong. Like if something is going to happen. It's been bugging her all day. Dean starts chuckling a little at her words earlier to Sam.

"Don't give me that look boy, you better lawyer it up when I call your ass from jail to bail me out"

Even in a time like this, Y/N is the only person who could put a smile on his face. "What're you laughing at" Y/N asks, chuckling with him, confused how he went from crying to laughing. Before he could tell her, they hear Sam scream "NO!!" Pain in his voice.

They snap out of it, bolting out of Deans car. They kick the door down to Sam's apartment. A blast of heat gushes out through the door "Sam!" Dean yells for his brother. Y/N smells smoke.

'Oh no. This is it. This is the bad thing that was going to happen'. Y/N thinks to herself. "JESS!!" Sam screams in agony, Dean and Y/N rush to Sam's room.

Upon running in they see Jess pinned to the ceiling, engulfed in flames. No fucking way.

"Sam! Sam!" Y/N and Dean yell. "NO!! NO!!" Sam screams still on the bed, blocking himself from the flames.

"We gotta get out of here!" Dean screams, he and y/n pull Sam off the bed. Hauling him out of the room. "JESS!! JESS!! NO!!" Sam screams in shock. They make it out of the apartment in time before the blast takes over the whole building.

________________________________

Hours have passed since Jess' death. Dean is looking at the burning building being sprayed by the firefighters. His mind flashing back to that unfaithful night when his mother was killed. His heart grieves for Sam knowing that pain is now twice as hard on his little brother, who he fought so hard to protect.

Sam spent the first hour crying into Dean and Y/N's arms. Currently at the trunk of the Impala, he's loading his rifle, a grim look on his face while tears still fall from his eyes.

Y/N's heart pains seeing her best friend like this. Leaning against Baby's boot, taking a drag from her cigarette in this stressful time. A habit she picked up from her father. Sam ushers her to pass it. She looks at him surprised. "You sure?" he just nods curtly.

He hands Y/N the rifle, as Dean approaches them, so she can finish loading it. Passing the almost burnt out bud to him, Sam takes a few pulls, letting the smoke out. Before finishing it, flicking it to the ground and crushing it with his boot.

Turning to face his elder brother. Y/N throws the gun into the trunk. "We've got work to do fellas" She says grimly and Sam shuts the trunk.

Authors Note

So this chapter was supposed to be uploaded since last night but right after I finished proofreading and editing. My dumbass accidentally deleted the entire chapter!

The tears that were shed. Holy Fuckk. That's a pain I never wanna go through again. And I've watched all 15 seasons of Supernatural😂

Anyways. I hope whoever is reading that enjoyed the first episode. I'll try my best to finish the next one by Thursday for the latest. I'm planning to do a lot with Y/N's character. I'm trying to avoid leaving plot holes but I'm kinda new to consistent writing so bare with me.

Update

I forgot to add in the fact that Sam and Deans mom grew up with Y/N's parents. I added into the prologue. Please forgive my lack of planning. Xoxo

[serene-destruction]

Oh! Listen I love Husk and I need him to have more love! Maybe a Fem!Reader x Husk x Angel. Angel Dust and Reader would be a qpr quite obviously, just besties who want to give love to a grumpy cat. Other than that I give you creative freedom!

The first request! Just for future reference, my stories are gender neutral unless otherwise plot relevant. Anyways, enjoy!

I Could Get Used To You

(GN) Reader x Husker x (Queer Platonic)Angel Dust

TW: drunkenness, vague mentions of past trauma.

Work count: 5.6k

Summary: Life in hell isn't an easy one, but it's a lot easier to get through it when you find people to care about.

You and Angel had known of each other for quite some time, given that he had often attended the bar you worked at in his early years in hell. Despite how aggressively flirtatious he was you didn't mind him as much as some of the other regulars. He at least had the restraint to make those comments in between sets or after the show. You spent the first few months mostly ignoring him, as you did with all the other patrons. That became harder, though, when he had decided to see you after the show.

“Heya sweetheart!” he called out to you as you left the bar. You rolled your eyes and held your coat a little tighter, hoping that hiding your body might get him to leave you the hell alone. You had a rough night filled with drunken idiots disrupting your show with their shameless attempts to touch you and you certainly didn't need his comments to top it all off.

“Say what you want then leave me the hell alone” you nearly growled out your words. It was hard to stay composed after having spent hours keeping that fake smile for the crowd.

“Woah! Got it, bad night” he held his hands up in a show of surrender.

“Just wanna talk” he explained, his smile a little less cocky than when he made his usual comments at the bar. Truthfully it had caught you a little off guard, considering how you had ascribed total arrogant confidence to him. So you let out a sigh, motioning him to walk with you. You just simply didn't feel like arguing and you were pretty confident that he was mostly talk. Something you could easily placate until you made it back home.

“Just to be clear, if you lay a single one of those hands on me I'm cutting all of them off” you warn and he flashes a bright, teasing smile.

“Kinky~” his voice was sing-songy as he spoke. You crossed your arms, glared, and hoped he got the point.

“Right, right. I won't touch ya” he agreed and you were able to grow a little more comfortable. Still, you remained on guard.

“Names Angel by the way” he sounded so sure of himself as he spoke, a set of hands held on his hips in a show of confidence. He had only just started his career back then, his fame in its early stages. It wasn't a surprise when you didn't recognize it.

“Y/n. Though I'm sure you already knew that” your words held an edge, your tense posture clear. But he simply nodded along.

“Yeah. Still a nice name though” his smile widened a little and, despite the minor disdain you had started with, you could see him already growing on you.

“Right…any particular reason you decided to talk to me tonight of all nights? I've seen you around the bar for a while now” you questioned him, rather curious about why exactly now of all times he wanted to suddenly meet you.

“I just wanted to let ya know you did good tonight. I get how much of a bummer pricks messin’ with your show can be.” the genuine compliment surprised you so much that you're silent for a moment. A moment too long apparently as he speaks again.

“If it means anything it was one’a my favorites so far” At that you turned and searched for some sort of humor in his eyes, maybe something that said he was lying. But when there wasn't anything you finally returned his smile with a weary one.

“Glad you enjoyed it” you took the compliment, though you still didn’t fully believe that he was being truthful. It was rare someone ever complimented you to start with, but you had yet to have someone do so without an ulterior motive.

“And y’know, that happens again tomorrow and I'll personally knock ‘em around for you, yeah?” his smile turned into a grin and you couldn't help the short laugh that left at his expression.

“If you feel so inclined. Though if anyone asks, I told you to leave the poor sods alone” you tried to make it clear that you definitely weren't supposed to be harming the clientele with how dramatic the last part of the sentence was. Luckily he seemed to get the point.

“Course. They've been gettin’ on my nerves anyway” you couldn't help but agree.

The two of you continue on with your conversation, getting to know a bit about each other's lives on the short walk. Despite his behavior at the bar, he was actually surprisingly personable one-on-one. He had a kind of natural charisma with a bit of faint genuine kindness. It was, frankly, one of the better conversations you had since you fell into hell. But all good things always come to an end. This time it was because you stopped your feet outside your residence.

“It was nice getting to actually meet you Angel” he stopped with you and you could have sworn you caught the faintest glimpse of his smile falling.

“It was nice meetin’ you too. You workin’ tomorrow?” His question surprises you a bit, but you answer anyway.

“When am I not working” you rolled your eyes, your exhaustion now easy to see. His look turned sympathetic.

“If that ain't the truth. See you tomorrow then?” He begins to walk away but stays turned to you for a response with his hand held in a finger gun motion. You can't help the bit of genuine smile that peeks through.

“As always” you answer before finally tucking into your apartment building.

You and Angel only got closer over the coming years. He would walk you home from your shows from time to time and you would entertain him with whatever story you had of the nights when he was too busy to show up. You too bonded over work and he even offered to be a dancer a few times just to rake in some more attention and get you enough to finally move up from that shit hole. But you always kindly refused, not looking for the increasing fame he carried with him.

Eventually you two even started hanging out in other places. Granted they were always other run-down shit holes given he didn't particularly want the paparazzi and fans that came from his job, but you two always seemed to make the most of it, keeping your friendship on the down low.

Until, one night, he stopped showing up.

You had become increasingly concerned after a month of him just up and disappearing. You were worried something had happened or maybe that his psychotic boss was pulling away even more of his already limited freedom. But then he showed up after one of your shows, face guilt-ridden when you went near frantic.

You were already yelling out question after question at him. Where has he gone? Was he okay? Did something happen? He had to calm you down before explaining that he had moved. You were so incredibly proud knowing that he was finally removing even just a part of himself from the work that had begun to be his entire life, though you were still a bit upset that he hadn't told you sooner.

But then he made you an offer you weren't expecting.

“You know, the hotel has an open doors rule and uh…well I was hopin’ you might…”

“Join you?” You finish the sentence for him. He turned to you with a look more nervous than you've ever seen from him.

“Look I know the place ain't exactly the best- the whole redemption thing’s a joke- but y'know I think you could get a job down there! Get away from all…all of this. Plus, y’know, I'd get to see you more often and-”

“Sounds like a plan” you stop his rambling with your answer and he turns to you with an almost bewildered look.

“Really? You sure?” He couldn't believe you would agree so quickly. You laughed at that.

“A chance to leave this shitty life behind and live with my best friend? Why would I say no? Especially if you like the place enough to recommend it” You lightheartedly shoved him and he almost gleamed with joy, his prior nervousness nothing but a thought now.

“Well shit. I thought I was gonna have ta try a lot harder than that. Had a whole pitch and everything!” he spoke with a laugh and you couldn't help but join in the joy.

You had to say the first few months at the hotel had been rough. For one, your boss didn't like the idea of you quitting very much. You were half the reason he made any money to begin with and he wasn't about to let you go so easily. So for a while you had been harassed and once nearly even killed before Alastor went and ‘dealt with this little problem of yours’. Though you suspected it was only because your boss had sent people to attack the hotel itself and less that he cared about you in any capacity.

You had managed to get a job at the hotel like Angel had said, though you felt more like a resident since there weren't ever enough people to warrant a show. But it had been more than once you were able to lift spirits with a performance, so you did still get paid. It was nice not having to work as much.

Though you would have to say, out of all the other strange people and events here, the bartender was the one that caught your eye the most. A right asshole he was, but there was still a charm he had. You two mostly only had some idle chit-chat, but Angel seemed to be getting pretty close to him, especially after he had one of his rougher nights that you hadn't been around for. Which meant you talked to the cat demon more. Never really one on one, but still you grew to see why your friend seemed so comfortable around him. He was easy to talk to. You mostly saw him as a friend of a friend though. Maybe even a good acquaintance if you wanted to push it.

But then there was that night…

Two in the morning and you still couldn't get a single wink of sleep. Tossing and turning and general frustration simply wouldn't allow you.

You couldn't get it out of your head. It had been so long since the memories had been allowed to invade your mind like they did tonight. Your skin crawled as if it wanted to escape you and if you could you would let it. You felt utterly trapped as it clung to you. Like the only escape from it was to dissolve into nothing.

You knew why the memories had come back swinging, all too aware that it was such a stupid thing to have opened that old wound. All Charlie had done was pull you to the new activity she was so excited to share. But her hands dragged you and made it impossible to pull away and when you made it to that room all the eyes fell on you. It was horrifyingly familiar in a way that it shouldn't have been. You had wanted to disappear right then.

Yet you didn't speak up and instead let her do as she pleased, knowing that it was such a mundane thing that you shouldn't have let upset you like it did. You felt childish at having let the event ruin your night, at letting the entire situation dig itself into old scars. But still, you just couldn't stop the dread it built within you. You couldn't stop that clawing feeling of trying to escape your own body. Of escaping the phantom feeling of drag and pull and the expecting eyes that felt almost as if they'd burn you alive.

It didn't take long before the feeling began to sting your eyes with tears. It was at that point you knew there would be no sleeping tonight. So you finally gave up trying, sitting up in your bed as you wiped away the tears that hadn't been given the chance to fall. You quickly composed yourself, as you were just so great at doing by this point, and tossed on a warm robe before leaving your room. You glance at Angel's door when you do.

You contemplate for a brief moment if you should wake him, though you quickly decide against it. He was tired enough as it was with the shit he had to deal with on the daily, he didn't need you keeping him up on top of that. So you turned down the hall, making sure to remain quiet so as not to disturb anyone.

You needed a distraction, something to get your mind off everything. To numb that horrible feeling. You find that nothing calls your name quite like the sound of a drink and so you navigate the many halls until you find yourself at the hotel bar.

As you suspected, the place was barren and silent. You have no problem getting behind the bar and making your own drink as it most certainly wasn't your first time. You note that you should probably try to keep the place tidy while you're at it, but decide that you'll do so after you enjoy the sweet relief at the bottom of a glass.

And, for a few short moments, you do. The warm, burning feeling spreads through your chest and purges the shivers right on out of you. But it doesn't last after the drink is finished and the silence truly sets in. So you pour yourself another, trying to chase any semblance of peace.

“Can't sleep?” A voice asks from behind you, nearly scaring you off of the barstool as you whip around to see who it was. You're surprised to see Husk of all people, even more surprised to see something that might resemble concern show on him. But you soon calm, giving a nod to him before turning back around.

“Nope…you too?” You ask, catching him rounding his way to the other side of the bar as you do.

“I prefer nights. A lot more peaceful, especially in this place” you acknowledge his comment with a hum before turning back to nursing your drink.

There is a silence between the two of you for a good few minutes. He cleans around for a while and you try to let your emotions leave you with every sip. It isn't long before you poor a third and you try to ignore the fact that this isn't helping.

It's when you go to pour your fourth drink that he stops what he's doing. You try to ignore him and whatever he's deciding to do with his time, but it becomes harder when he leans on the bar in front of you.

“That’s not gonna help you” He states plainly, your eyes turning to glance at him. There's a brief moment where you attempt to pull your facade back up. Where you try to tug your lips into a smile and choke out any words that would deter his potential questions. But it is exhausting and you are already beyond tired. So instead you hang your head.

“I know…was just hoping I'd be wrong” your words are quiet and mumbled, a far cry from your usually quite loud and charismatic self. It makes your insides twist to have let yourself be seen like this.

“Do you wanna talk about why you're up so late?” His question makes you swallow thickly, hands gripping tighter on the glass in your hand. Another few moments of silence pass that seem almost like an eternity under his stare. It takes a while for you to find any words in this state.

“It’s not worth your time” you manage the sentence, eyes fixated on the honey color of your chosen liquor. You hear him sigh, taking a step back as he pours his own drink.

“I'm the one who's askin’. If I waste my time that's my own damn fault” you don't like how hard it is for you to find the meaning in his tone. You can't tell if he's being dismissive or trying to comfort you. So you settled on answering with silence once more. You hear him sigh before he rounds the bar again.

“Look, tell me or don't tell me, but I at least want to hear you say something” this time you do hear an attempt to be genuine. He takes a seat beside you and you finally turn to look at him again. His eyes expect nothing, a rare sight for you. It's…comforting. You aren't sure if it was you or the alcohol talking, but you could have even been able to delude yourself into thinking that he cared. You look away again when you feel that false comfort begins to wrap you. You find your tongue beginning to slip.

“I…” you start and suddenly it's like your insides churn. You put nearly everything into stopping the pull of tears.

“It's just a bad night for me, is all. I…I’m not really used to this” you finally let the words fall and you can't bring yourself to look at him. You don't want to know how he's reacting to your words. You don't want to see just how little he actually cares.

“Used to what, exactly?” he pries further, asking for more. The flood gates were already open and there was no use in trying to shut them now.

“The way everyone is just so comfortable with each other- the way that I almost feel comfortable. It was easy with Angel; both of us in the same shit situation with no one else to lean on but each other. But nobody needs something from me here, nobody's trying to take anything- they don't want anything! And it- I just-...” your hands shake, your breath becoming unsteady. It's been so long since you felt this pathetic.

“I don't think I'm supposed to be here” you admit as your voice wavers. You try to steady your breath and calm yourself. It wasn't safe to be this vulnerable, it was stupid.

“I get it” his words stop your thoughts immediately. You're left reeling from the whiplash and expecting that he must have grown a second head that speaks only lies. But it's just him as he stares down at his now half-empty drink, no second head in sight. There's a look of contemplation on his face that you can see even as he keeps his eyes on the glass. A moment later he speaks again.

“When you've spent so long getting used to people treating you like shit it can be hard to accept when someone doesn't. Makes it feel like they're lyin’, like they're just waitin’ for the moment to hurt you the worst” his words quickly hit a deep part of you, knocking at known insecurities you had long since buried as deep as you could.

“Makes you paranoid too, always checking your back for snakes. Gets harder to believe anyone; harder to care about anyone a lot of the time. And so you stop caring, and suddenly it stops hurting as much” his continued words only dug deeper, tugging away at your walls like they were wet paper. When his eyes finally meet yours again you are surprised to see them soften. There isn't pity in them, nor a look that makes you feel as childish as you felt before talking to him. Instead, you are met with a knowing stare, one that says he understands this feeling all too well.

“But the thing is that doesn't mean you feel any better. Makes the suffering pointless if you don't try to let the good in too. You gotta make it mean something” he doesn't look away from you as he says those words and you can't bring yourself to turn away either. You don't want to. Because he's saying everything you needed to hear and you can't find any reason not to trust that he doesn't know exactly how this feels. That he isn't speaking directly from the heart. Your dread turns to a sinking sort of comfort. The kind only broken people could give when they reach out and pull each other from the dark. It's the most seen you've ever felt.

You feel the tears finally well in your eyes but you can't help but smile at him, a sad laugh escaping you.

“Of all the people I expected to give me a pep talk I gotta say, you weren't even on the list” you finally speak again and there is no hiding that he's hit something deep within you.

“Of all the fucked up people here, I didn't expect you would need anyone to talk to” He offers the same smile as he hand you a napkin. You take it without complaint and quickly calm your tears with deep breaths, wiping away the strays that fell. There's a short moment of silence, but it doesn't feel as suffocating anymore. In fact you almost feel a strange comfort in it now that it doesn't feel so empty. Still, you knew you should probably say something.

“You know, uh…” you break the silence as you once again turn to your drink, this time far less focused on ignoring him as much as you were trying to compose yourself enough to speak. At the very least you're able to steady your voice.

“Angel and I were going to head out tomorrow. I don't think he'd mind if you came…if you're free, of course” you invited him but didn't catch the way his smile widened at the request.

“I can't guarantee anything, but I’m not declining” his maybe is better than a no, so you don't particularly mind his answer. In fact you can feel your own smile soften at it.

Since then the three of you have been near inseparable. At any given part of the day at least two of you are off doing something with each other. It's nice, you think, to have people this close to you, to have a reason to care again. The three of you look out for each other and It's the closest you've ever gotten to stability in your life. At this point, you don't think you'd trade it for anything.

Which is why when you start to develop feelings for Husk, you are utterly horrified.

You know him and Angel have…something going on. You know they're not together as you know you would have been the first to know, but you've also never seen Angel smile the way he does when he's around the winged demon. You would say the same for Husk, but you've caught him sending the same soft smile to you once or twice and you honestly can't tell if it's your lovestruck daze or if those smiles are what you think they are.

Your emotions are a spiraling mess within you. You care so much for both of them. You'd live through a thousand hells if it meant you'd have them around. The absolute last thing you want is to fuck this up.

So you choose to say nothing. You bottle your feelings and throw them in the garbage. As far as you were concerned being in their afterlives at all was good enough. You wouldn't risk it.

However, it became hard during nights like these. When you all were giddy off alcohol, conversation flowing through wide smiles and every touch as gentle as it could ever be. It was the definition of home, a place where you were the most comfortable you could possibly be. Your tongue loose and your actions anything but hidden. Your care poured from you openly and only so much could be blamed on the alcohol.

“I fucking love you guys” the words fell shamelessly from you. Granted you were pretty fucked up by this point as you tried to keep up with them, but it wasn't more than you could reasonably handle without blacking out. They both turned to you, inebriated smiles sending themselves your way.

“Love you too, sweetheart” Angel returned, one of his hands patting your head, a wider smile spreading on your face as he did. You leaned against the bar, your head propped up by one of your hands as you turned to Husk. You just barely notice the way he leaned ever so slightly closer. But he says nothing and you can't help but feel like you deserve at least an acknowledgement of your words from him.

“I'd be happy to show you if you don't believe me” the words slipped and once more you didn't notice what you were saying. You do, however, catch his eyes widen, pupils dilating a bit. When he continues to say nothing you roll your eyes and pull back just slightly. You don't catch the way he almost follows you before he pulls himself back, nor the stare Angel is giving from beside you.

“One of these days I'll get you to say it back” you speak before downing yet another shot. You miss the quick glance they give to each other.

“It’s getting late. We should probably head to bed” Angel suggests as he stands.

“Really?” You whine mostly to yourself.

“You two go ahead. I have to clean up anyway” Husk gives his excuse and you groan but ultimately agree to the end of your night. You take one of Angel's hands as the both of you begin your stumble down the halls. The two of you are a giggling mess against each other, nearly falling about twenty separate times, but you do eventually make it to your room. You quickly notice that he hesitates on his goodbyes though.

“Hey uh, can we…talk?” He asks and, though you are a bit surprised it doesn't show.

“Of course!” You agree, opening your door and allowing him inside your room. You make it to your bed where you both quickly sit, unable to stand unsupported for long.

“What's up?” You ask, bleary eyes turning to him. You have to admit you're a little worried, but you hope that whatever he wants to talk about isn't too serious.

“You and Husk are gettin’ pretty close” his words don't strike you at first, so you give him a smile.

“Yeah. Same for you” you comment and watch a wave of confusion hit him.

“What?” He seems to almost not Believe the words that have left you and it takes you a moment to realize why.

“Oh come on Angel, don't tell me you haven't noticed how he looks at you! With that little smile of his- and don't you think I've missed you staring either! You two are absolutely thirsty for each other” Your voice is louder than you notice. When he quickly tries to quiet you down you fall back onto your bed with a laugh, trying to escape his hands. He continues to reach out anyway and so you pull him down with you, eventually sending the both of you into another giggle fit.

“Could say the same for you” Angel speaks through his laugh, though there is a hesitance to it. You can't hide the way the implication catches you.

“You think so?” You ask cautiously, almost worried as you turn to look at him, his body beside yours.

“Yeah…Yeah I do” he replies just as slowly, the air in the room becoming tense in the sudden silence. It was a longer silence than you would have liked, both of you turning your eyes to the ceiling in contemplation of the words you both had spoken.

After a moment Angel sits up a bit, just enough to lean his head against his hand and look down at you.

“I love him. Like a whole fuckin’ lot and…I love you too. You’re the best friend I could’a eva asked for in this shithole” he admits and you can't tear your eyes from him. He, however, can't bear to look at you.

“And I was hopin', maybe, if you'd like ta…well if you'd wanna share him with me. If he even does feel that way about us” the words leave his lips ever so carefully and you can't help the wide smile that breaks across your face, all your previous worry disappearing. You reach a gentle hand out, his eyes finally turning back to yours when it lands on his face.

“I'd love that” you let the words leave and watch as he lights up, smile soft and worry dissipating by the second. Then suddenly an idea pops into your head, a mischievous smile crawling to your lips.

“Oh no, I know that look. What are you plannin’?” He asks, amusement overtaking any attempts to look worried. You quickly sat up, pulling him along with you.

“Well Mr. Grouchy Pants likes to walk by my door whenever he needs extra cleaning rags and personally I think he should be going to bed” you explain as you stand on still shaky legs. Angel doesn't seem to catch on for a moment before suddenly realizing what you mean.

“You ain't gonna do that” Angel says oh so confidently. He must have failed to account for how much bolder you are when drunk, because you most definitely plan to. In fact you hear stumbling feet making their way right about now. So you open the door, catching the attention of a certain winged cat almost immediately.

“Still working?” you ask. He has to blink a few times to catch up with the situation and you know then that drank a bit more after you guys left.

“Yeah” he answers simply. A moment later Angel is behind you, peaking out as well. He leans two arms against you for balance and Husk gives both of you a look.

“You ain't makin’ it down the hall like that. You look like you're about ta pass out” Angel points out and Husk turns back to him, almost offended.

“I'm not that drunk, sweetheart” the nickname catches you off guard and Husk seems just as surprised at what just came out of his own mouth.

“Oh? We’re doing pet names now kitty?” you tease a little and he looks utterly floored by the nickname. It sends a grin across Angel's face.

“Yeah kitten, since when did that happen?” Angel's voice is even more teasing than yours and Husk seems completely out of his depth. Every word he tries to speak dies before it leaves his lips. Eventually, he tips his hat down and tries to leave.

“I gotta go to bed-” before he gets too far you manage to snag one of his suspender straps, gently pulling him back a bit. He follows, knowing he would probably fall if he didn't.

“You should stay with us for the night” you offer and watch as his eyes shoot wider than you've ever seen them. He goes to speak but you cut him off before he can say a word.

“Mind out of the gutter. We’re just going to sleep’” you clarify and hear Angel whine a bit. You quickly nudge him and he stops, accepting that there would be nothing else tonight. But, while Husk's face seems a little less horrified, he still hesitates.

“Please?” You ask in as sweet a tone as you can manage. You watch as he uses the last of his resolve to attempt to answer no, but when Angel leans down near you and offers the same pleading look, he simply can't.

“Fine” he mumbles out with his arms crossed. Without a word you tug him inside, the door shutting as the three of you stumble your way back. Each one of you managed to bump or knock the others at least once as you all did your best to make it into bed.

At some point you and Angel are on the bed and Husk is still hesitating to follow. He's only allowed a moment before Angel reaches out and pulls him, his body landing heavily on the two of you with the strings of curses that follow. You all struggled to find your spots, moving and squirming to get comfortable. Your blankets are tossed and tugged to cover the three of you until, finally, you all seem to all be covered. It's then that idle talk arrives, slurred attempts at conversation that distract long enough for you all to get comfortable.

It wasn't a surprise Husk ended up in the middle, the two of you shamelessly cuddling up to him on either side. He's a bit tense for a while, but when he does allow himself to calm down and relax he is a purring mess; a sound that is only intensified when you absentmindedly pet the fluff on his head. Eventually all of you become quiet, eyes heavy with a need for sleep and the most comfortable you all have ever been. It's during this, moments away from drifting off, that husk manages two words.

“Love you” he slurs out, but to who neither you are Angel are sure. So instead you take it as a sentiment meant for both of you. You lay a soft kiss against his head before snuggling closer and Angel does the same.

You could definitely get used to this.

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Disarmed | Bucky Barnes x Reader

After the events of the GOTG holiday special, I think we all know where this came from and where it's going...

I have not been able to stop thinking about how this actually went down for Bucky. And it makes me sad.

Warnings: violence, injuries, pain, blood, Bucky's arm, home invasion

No answer followed your knocking. Just silence. No movement from inside the apartment. 

Another round of knocks echoed through the quiet hall. Again, silence. 

“Buck? It’s me…”

You leaned against the door, listening for any sign of life. And finally, soft steps made their way in your direction. A deep sigh came from behind the wood. 

Checking in on Bucky like this always made you feel like a bit of a bother. You never wanted to irritate him or make him feel like a child. But you liked knowing he was alright. And he never seemed to mind. He even welcomed your unannounced drop-ins. Bucky liked knowing that someone- anyone- cared about him. He just couldn’t believe you, of all people, were that ‘someone’. 

The metallic rattling sound of Bucky undoing his door’s chain brought a smile to your face. Sure, he’d gone radio silent. He’d ignored your texts and calls all day and skipped out on your lunch plans. But he had a lot on his plate. And even as he worked through his issues and eliminated some of his mental load, more problems often materialized out of nowhere. And so, you granted him grace. You didn’t chastise him or nag him for drawing in on himself. He was doing his very best, and you only wanted to help.

Bucky tentatively pulled open the door a sliver, granting you a view of only half his body. He looked tired, dejected. But he smiled when he saw you- he couldn’t help it. “Hey, doll…” 

“Hey, I was-” You noticed a large scrape running the length of his arm, a bruise resting below his eye. “Woah- what happened? I just saw you yesterday…” Anxiety flooded your system- he was okay less than twenty-four hours ago. How did this happen? And when? 

The day before, Bucky spent his afternoon and most of his evening at your place. The two of you watched movies together and ordered take out. It was, by all definitions, a perfect day.

And you were no stranger to Bucky’s injuries. He always came home from missions looking worse for wear- but he was supposed to be safe here. He didn’t just return from a long stint at a Hydra base or a fight with the flag smashers. He was home. And he wasn’t supposed to get hurt.

A deep sigh deflated Bucky’s chest and pulled his head down. And you realized why he flaked on your plans. But the issue presented a double-edged sword. He knew that by telling you he was hurt would only serve to make you worry about his latest injuries that seemed to materialize overnight. But leaving you in the dark didn’t save you- only delayed the inevitable. In the end, he defaulted to his factory setting. He withdrew and fell silent, deciding to deal on his own.

But that couldn’t stop you. 

Finally, he dragged his gaze up to yours. A few broken blood vessels shot red webs through the whites of his eyes. He looked broken. “Um, could you-” He rephrased, “do you want to come in?” He didn’t like asking you for things. Ever. Though he knew you’d do anything for him, he didn’t like how it felt. He always said it seemed like he was taking advantage of your kindness- which you told him was impossible.

Without hesitation, you nodded. He opened the door and allowed you entrance, immediately locking it behind you. He turned the deadbolt and secured the chain before resting his forehead against the wood. And as he rested there, he gave you a view of his back. Clearly, something violent happened in the eighteen hours since you’d last seen him.  

Large bruises streaked his skin. The deep purples and blues accompanied red gashes and scrapes littering his shoulders. Dried blood lay under his nails. A wince accompanied every inhale. 

“Buck, I don’t understand- what happened to you?” 

He took one last moment to himself before facing you. And as he turned, you saw it: a brutal wound splashed across his chest. Its maroons and crimsons radiated from a central, bloody point, splaying outward. The skin looked raw, torched. Painful. It leaked blood with every movement, every breath. You’d never seen anything like it. 

But as severe as the wound on his chest was, something else caught your eye. Or, the lack of thereof.

“Wait. Where’s…” you scanned the room but came up empty. “Where’s your arm?”

Bucky wasn’t comfortable without it, not yet. And though it wasn’t his favorite part of the body he called his, it at least provided a sense of security. His arm was strong, fast. It could protect him when danger came calling. And so, he tolerated it for the purpose it served. Never once had he taken it off- not since T’Challa and Shuri presented it to him. And yet, he stood before you, his vibranium arm missing. 

“Someone, um…” His eyes took on a far away, hollow quality. “Someone broke in last night.”

You were on him in seconds, “What?”

Everything in you wanted to hold him close, but the angry wound on his chest said otherwise. And so, you opted to hold his hand. 

“I guess ‘broke in’ is the wrong phrase,” he said. “The door- it was still locked. I don’t know how they got in. But they did.” He looked sad. Scared. Confused. He didn’t deserve to feel this way- especially not in his own home. Each shaky breath pushed more blood from his wound, sending red streaks dripping down his body.

“Shit, Buck. You’re really bleeding-”

Bucky stared down at the bloodbath spilling from his chest. Something about the way he regarded his wound was too casual, too nonchalant. “Yeah. It’s been doing that.” He seemed almost distracted, like he was too caught up in the previous night’s events to really notice his injury.

“Okay, can I- let’s get this cleaned up, alright?” 

Bucky gave a small shake of his head, “That’s okay, doll. You don’t have to.”

“Hey,” you gave his hand a squeeze, “Let me take care of you.”

With Bucky’s permission, you led him down the hall to the bathroom. Never once did his hand leave yours. If anything, he tightened his grip as the seconds passed. He was desperate for you- for the one person he felt safe with. He wondered how you always knew when he needed you- how you always knew what he needed. 

But more often, he wondered why you helped him. Why you did so much for him. Why you treated him with such kindness. He sometimes got it in his mind to ask why you did the things you did- but he knew better than to make you question it. He feared that, if you thought about it too long, you’d realize you didn’t want to be around him anymore. And while he wanted to free you of his burden, he’d miss you too much to let you go.

He took a seat on the edge of the tub like you asked and watched you unearth the first aid kit from under his sink. It was the same kit you put together and made him promise to hang on to. It had everything he’d need to tend to his wounds if you were ever unavailable. But thus far, you always found a way to be there, to take care of him. 

He often felt like he was using you. Like you did so much for him without asking for anything in return. Every time you stitched him up or stopped him from bleeding out, guilt seeped into his bones. But you assured him, time and time again, that you helped him because you wanted to. Because you cared. Because you’d rather die than let him think he was alone. 

“Jesus. Is this…” You carefully examined the injury to Bucky’s chest, “is this a burn?”

Bucky shrugged, but the motion only brought him more pain. “I’m not sure. The whole thing was… weird.”

With gentle hands, you cleaned the blood from his skin. He winced with each swipe of gauze. And while you held pressure to the spot that refused to stop bleeding, you asked for details.

Bucky’s jaw tensed. “Everything was normal. I double checked that the door was locked. I texted you goodnight. I went to bed.” He traveled back to the night before, recalling the strange events as they unfolded. “The sound of footsteps woke me up. I thought it was my neighbor coming home from the bar again. But the sound was outside my bedroom door- right outside my bedroom door. And then someone was in my room. I saw their silhouette standing over my bed.”

Your heart began to race as though it were happening in real time. “Who was it? Did you recognize them?”

He shook his head. “Whoever it was- they were fast. Strong. I don’t think…” He paused for a moment, his brow furrowing. “I don’t think they were human. Or at least, all human. I don’t think they were from earth at all. I mean, the weapon they had it was… I don’t know. I’d never seen anything like it before.” He relived the blast that struck his chest, the sizzling, searing agony that burned through him. 

“Shit…” Knowing how scared he must’ve been made you nauseous. But you did your very best to keep your hands from shaking. “Did they- did they say what they wanted?”

Again, he shook his head. “They didn’t say why they were here- nothing about it made any sense, really. They didn’t threaten me. It didn’t even… it didn’t seem like they wanted me dead.”

You thanked the universe that Bucky’s assailant hadn’t come for his life. If you’d dropped by his apartment to find him cold and still, you would’ve joined him in the afterlife.

As you examined his wound once again, Bucky thought back on everyone he’d ever hurt, everyone he’d ever killed. He knew many of his victims didn’t deserve to die. He knew they had families and friends who wanted revenge. If anyone ever came for him, he assumed it would be a vengeful loved one out for his head. But this was different. 

“They didn’t seem like they wanted to kill me,” he said after a while. “They didn’t even really try to kill me.”

“Then what’s all this about?” you asked, motioning toward the massive wound on his chest.

“I mean… they could’ve shot me in the head.”

You cringed at the thought. Only a few hours ago, Bucky could’ve so easily been taken from you. And you wouldn’t have even known he was in danger. 

“The entire time we were fighting, they were going for my arm.” He shuddered. “I think they got fed up after a while- that’s when they shot me. Almost like they didn’t want to hurt me but had no choice. And while I was on the ground, writhing in pain, they tore it off.”

Your eyes widened, “what?”

“Like I said… whoever it was, they were strong. They didn’t disable the mechanism like Ayo- they ripped it off.”

None of it made any sense. The locked door, leaving Bucky alive, stealing his arm- it was beyond strange. And in any other circumstance, you would’ve attempted to put the pieces together. You would’ve tried to solve the puzzle. But that part didn’t matter. What mattered was Bucky. 

He lost his arm in the fall all those years ago. He bled in the snow for what felt like years, alone and scared. Hydra removed what remained of his joint without compassion and replaced it with metal. And then, when he was finally free, Tony brutally destroyed his new arm. Robbed him once again of a piece of himself. Though, part of him was happy to be free of the silver and red prosthetic designed by Hydra. He welcomed the sleek black and gold upgrade Shuri so kindly provided. 

And now, it was gone. 

He'd been through enough. His sense of self stripped away again and again. His bodily autonomy decimated. And he’d worked so hard to make progress. He was trying. He was working on himself, on healing his trauma. And just as things seemed to take a positive turn, yet another nightmare unfolded. 

With his permission, you used your free hand to assess where his arm used to be. The attachment site was still in place, but the skin around it was angry. Red. Swollen. Dried blood crusted around the metal plate. You wondered how much pain a body could take. 

“Does it hurt?”

He nodded. And your heart fell to pieces.

“What did you-” You forced yourself to stay strong, “what did you do after they um, took it?”

“I was kind of in shock…” he said. “I didn’t know what to do. Whoever it was seemed to vanish. And I,” he took a breath. “I couldn’t just go back to sleep, you know?” He sat quiet for a moment, disappearing to the previous night’s utter horror. “I didn’t feel safe after that.”

You cursed whoever did this to him. Only recently did he start successfully sleeping through the night. His nightmares dwindled and he was finally getting the rest he so desperately needed. And his assailant robbed him of that.

He shrugged, wincing once again. “I just went and sat in the living room for the rest of the night. I left the lights on… I couldn’t imagine turning them off. I knew I’d see their silhouette again.”

You didn’t know what to say. You wished he’d called. You wished he’d felt comfortable enough asking for help. But that was still an uphill battle and calling in the middle of the night wasn’t something he was okay with. If you called him at three in the morning, he’d answer without hesitation. He’d never see it as a bother or a burden; if you needed him, he’d be there. But the reverse was different. He saw himself as only a burden- who was he to wake you in the middle of the night? Who was he to disturb your sleep and dump his problems on you? 

“Buck, I’m so…” you didn’t know how to make it better. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. You don’t deserve this- you don’t deserve any of the shit that’s happened to you.”

He flashed you a sad smile and a quiet “thanks”.

“And I know what you’re gonna say, but… you know I’m always here for you-”

“Doll, I can’t-”

“I don’t care what time it is, Buck. I don’t care what I’m doing. If you need me, I’m here. End of story.”

He simply brought his hand to your cheek and swept his thumb over your skin. You were so good to him- too good to him. 

“All I ever want to do is be there for you. No matter what that means.”

Bucky averted his gaze. He sometimes didn’t know how to react to kindness, to such direct warmth. It almost made him bashful to have someone care for him so deeply.

“Um, this is finally done bleeding,” you said, pulling the gauze from his chest. “I’m gonna cover it. And then I’m gonna clean your shoulder- only if that’s okay.” The only person allowed to touch Bucky was you. And even then, getting to that point had been a long journey. Building that trust, that feeling of safety took care and thought. And you never wanted to overstep. He knew he could change his boundaries whenever he wanted, could revoke his consent without consequence. But you still reminded him every now and then, never allowing him to forget. 

“I’d really appreciate that. Thank you.” 

As carefully as you could, you covered the strange blast-injury on his chest. And when satisfied with its condition, you moved on to his shoulder. After it’s decades of abuse, this tissue required extra care. Extra gentleness. You worked slowly and cautiously, removing the blood from his scarred skin. 

An overwhelming sense of vulnerability engulfed Bucky. No one ever got this up close and personal with his marred flesh. It made him nervous. “Hey, I’m really sorry I ditched you today…” he said, distracting you from his scars. “I knew we had plans, but I wasn’t-”

You placed a gentle hand on his cheek, quieting him. “Please don’t apologize. I know you’re doing your best- and you had a more than good enough reason not to meet me for chicken and waffles.”

He let a sad smile break through his downtrodden expression. “I knew this apartment was a shit hole,” he said, “but I never thought someone would break in to steal my arm. You know?”

You nodded. “I don’t think anyone could’ve expected that.”

With Bucky’s wounds cleaned and covered, you finally let your shoulders relax a bit. The tightness in your chest diminished and your muscles let go of a fraction of tension. But you still worried about him. You knew he’d never sleep again- not in this apartment, at least. His sense of security was gone. Shattered. And without his arm, you knew he’d feel vulnerable. On edge. Any sliver of peace he’d found disintegrated before his very eyes. 

You feared making him uncomfortable, but the words slipped past your lips before you had the chance to second guess yourself. “Hey… do you wanna come stay at my place?” you asked, “I know you probably aren’t looking forward to spending much time here after what happened, and-”

Bucky waved you off with an overly casual smile. “No, no, that’s okay, doll. I’m fine here.”

You gave him a stern look, “Buck, I know you. Please, just come stay with me.”

He chewed on the inside of his cheek- this crossed a line. He couldn’t invade your space like that. He couldn’t infect your life with his baggage. And if he feared being a burden before, it was nothing compared to the feeling creeping into his chest. “You’re sweet, but you don’t have to do that-”

“I want to,” you said. “Just come crash at my place for a while.”

He thought it over for a long, quiet moment. More than anything, he wanted to escape his apartment and seek refuge with you. Any sense of safety he’d felt in this space was gone, and he never felt safer than he did at yours. But he couldn’t impose like that, though. He couldn’t invade your privacy.

“Buck, come on. Do you wanna come stay with me?”

He nodded.

You cupped his face, “Then come! Stay long as you want.”

He opened his mouth to thank you for your kindness, but you cut him off.

“Hang on- to clarify, I’m not saying ‘stay as long as you think is appropriate or polite’. I’m saying, ‘stay as long as you want’.” You eyed him with a stern expression, “Don’t just stay one night and then come back here because you think you’re a burden. Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Good.” With your help, Bucky got to his feet. “Now, let’s pack you a bag and get you outta here.”

Bucky followed one pace behind you as you headed for his bedroom. He couldn’t believe he had a safety net. A kind, caring person who wanted only good things for him. He’d easily grown smitten with you only a few days after meeting you, and witnessing your capacity for compassion won him over. But truth be told, it wasn’t about the things you did for him. Or the nice things you said to him. You glowed from the inside, the warmth of your heart basking him in a comforting light. And though he’d, yet again, suffered a violation of his sense of self, he almost didn’t care. He didn’t belong to himself anymore, anyway. He belonged to you. 

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

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[bagopucks]

T. Zegras - Getcha Back

✄————————————

Trevor Zegras x Reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 2.2k

Warning(s): General angst

Woah what’s this?? New content??

—————————————

The tenth time in a week. The tenth time.

“A Romantic Night In Anaheim”

Trevor Zegras spotted out with blonde model. Certainly not his girlfriend, but maybe more his type?

“I’m so fucking sick!” Trevor hadn’t cheated on me. We already clarified that with one another, but I couldn’t don’t do it any more. I was so sick of hearing people talking about Trevor and other girls. I was supposed to be his girl. Not every blonde bimbo that hung off of him in every photo he took.

My heart was physically pained by the decision to leave, but I knew it was going to help me in the end. It would be far more beneficial than sticking around.

“It’s not my fault!”

“I don’t care, Trevor!” I was exhausted. Completely exhausted with my situation. “I don’t care that it’s not your fault! I don’t care that you’re not to blame! I don’t care! What I care about, is constantly being compared to people! Constantly feeling like I have to fight for you! To compete for you! With girls that you don’t even fucking know!”

“That doesn’t mean you have to leave! You can’t just leave!” Trevor was helpless. We were both helpless. He was crying, I was sobbing. We didn’t know how to handle our situation, and in stead of figuring it out together, I simply chose to leave. I chose to take the easy way out.

“I can, Trevor. I can. And I am.”

——————

It had been weeks. I couldn’t exactly avoid Trevor, seeing as I worked at the arena in one of the offices, but I also had a lock on the door that I found beneficial. Despite the fact that at times, guys would stop in and see me after getting out of other meetings.

I was restless for the first week without Trevor. I could barely sleep, I cried through the days and often felt numb in the evenings. Then I’d fall asleep during my lunch hours at work and occasionally when I didn’t have much work to be done during my time at the arena.

Nobody talked to me about Trevor. I didn’t know how he was doing, but I could only assume he was as miserable as I was. Or maybe he’d already moved on.

Certain players would ask how I was doing or what I was up to. Jamie stopped in one day to ask if I was seeing anybody. I didn’t question his motive before answering. It was Jamie after all.

Perhaps I should have questioned his motive. Because if I knew he was asking for Trevor, I wouldn’t have been sitting at my desk with a huge bouquet of flowers in front of my computer. And a sweetly written note on them about how much Trevor missed me.

“Ooh la la,” a sing song voice called from my doorway. My head snapped up to look at the secretary, Gen, as she stepped into my office. “Who’s sending you flowers?”

I was swift to pull the tag off the vase, tucking it under my thigh.

“Nobody important. Just someone trying to get into my pants.” I lied with a shrug. I slowly moved the vase aside.

“Must be some extensive lengths they’re going to. You’re all the rage in Anaheim.”

“I wish,” I scoffed out. Maybe then I wouldn’t have been so hung up on Trevor still.

I loved him. I feared I always would. Leaving him had been hard, and working in the same building was even harder. But still being in love with him after everything was the worst.

“You should see it through. The guy might be looking for more than just what’s in your pants.” She suggested, smiling from ear to ear. “I just came in to let you know we’re getting off early today. Supposed to be severe thunder storms.” I was quick to nod at her words before she left. I stuffed the tag in a bottom drawer of my desk and left it. I assumed it would be the only one.

It certainly wasn’t.

Less than three days later, I had a box of chocolates on my desk with another tag. Another apology from Trevor that I knew was meaningless. I’m sure Trevor meant it when he said sorry, but he had nothing to say sorry for. I simply couldn’t handle all of the bad publicity on social media. I was sick of it. If anybody should have been apologizing, it was me. But I couldn’t give him an inch, because he’d run with it and end up taking a mile. I needed to be disinterested. I needed to convince him and myself, that I was disinterested.

So I took that tag and tossed it into my desk too. I did eat the chocolate though. It was another week before I heard from Trevor. In the form of Jamie.

He waltzed into my office with a bright smile and two left feet, stumbling right into the leg of the couch I had in my office- hurting himself in the process.

He flushed when I laughed at him, but he was swift to distract me from his own clumsiness.

“Trevor sent me up here to talk to you?”

“Uh uh.” I shook my head, my interest immediately dying. I looked back at my laptop.

“Please?”

“We broke up, Jamie.” I found Trevor’s persistence endearing and frustrating at the same time. I was hurting myself more by denying myself the luxury of him.

I looked down at my computer, continuing my work while Jamie stood there. I assumed he’d leave. I hoped he’d leave. When he didn’t. I looked back up at him.

“Trevor and I broke up, Jamie.” I repeated much more slowly.

“I know but-“

“Close my door on the way out, Drysdale.”

He flinched at the use of his last name, but he left nonetheless.

I was hopeful that I had finally stopped Trevor in his tracks. Hopeful that I could start moving on without being harassed. Until I got a message from one of the secretaries one night. An SOS message, calling me into the office for a piece of missing paperwork I had to send her. I was swift to throw on a sweatshirt and leggings in hopes of looking somewhat decent before I left.

When I got to the arena, I slipped in one of the back doors, and almost had a heart attack when I spotted a figure standing by the elevator in the dark. I jumped and gasped.

“It’s okay! It’s okay!” Trevor turned on his phone flashlight, shining it on the floor to light up the area. There were very few lights on. Other than a few over the ice and some in the locker room halls.

“Trevor, oh my god.” I breathed out. Of all people, I never would have expected myself to be relieved to see him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He apologized as he walked closer. I took notice of his abnormal height, and when I looked down I spotted his skates.

“What are you doing here?” I looked back up. Trevor’s hair was a hot mess, and even in the dark, I could see the circles beneath his eyes.

“I was waiting for you.”

My brow furrowed in confusion. “Huh?”

“I asked Gen to text you.. the secretary. I thought you wouldn’t come if I asked.” Trevor’s soft words made me want to rip my own heart out and stomp on it.

I wanted to scream at him. To remind him we broke up. To remind him I wasn’t strong enough to see him. Instead, I nodded slowly.

“What did you need me for?” I couldn’t turn him down. Who knew? It might have been an emergency.

“Can you come skate with me?”

Not an emergency.

“Trevor I didn’t even bring my skates.” I mumbled, somewhat annoyed by this whole situation. Annoyed by my feelings. Annoyed by the fact that my heart was beating obnoxiously fast.

“You left them at our place when you left. I brought them with me.”

I frowned. I couldn’t just tell him no. I wanted to. I really did. But I couldn’t.

“Trevor. I don’t know.” I stared down at the skates, afraid if I looked up at him, I’d give in.

“Please? I’m tired. You know I’m clumsy when I’m tired.”

Impulsively, I looked up at him with a suspicious glare. It was my breaking point.

“A quick skate. A quick one.”

That was against my initial plan. I was supposed to ignore his existence. Forget about him. Stop crying about him. This was the opposite of so many plans I had.

I followed Trevor down the hall and into the locker room, where I found his old book bag that held my skates inside.

“Do you need help?”

“I can manage. I’ll meet you out on the ice.”

I could tell Trevor was anxious about leaving my side, especially when he lingered near the tunnel, looking on the verge of speaking. Eventually though, he left the room.

We were both alone again. And after that small bit of contact, it felt like I was back at square one. Choked up and miserable over losing someone I loved so much.

I pulled the skates out and slipped them on as my vision grew bleary with tears. I tightened the laces, stopping only momentarily to consider leaving.

When did I get to this point? The point of questioning whether or not I wanted to be with Trevor? The question of whether he was worth it or not?

When had I decided he wasn’t worth it? The struggle, tension, sadness?

I finished tying my skates and pulled the guards off before I made my way down the tunnel and out to the ice. The arena was dimly lit, but Trevor still looked good whether it was under a million spotlights or a few low lights.

I stood by the open door, watching Trevor skate lazy circles while he surfed through an app on his phone. It was only when I cleared my throat that he looked up to spot me. He skidded to a stop and waited.

I stepped out onto the ice, finding myself meeting him somewhere near the center. Trevor nervously reached for my hand. I gave him a warning look but I slipped my hand into his own nonetheless. He led me to the edge of the ice to skate along the wall, side by side.

“Did you get my flowers?”

Shit.

“Yeah. They smelled nice.”

“And the chocolates?”

Double shit.

“Yes, Trevor.”

“Did you get my Jamie-gram?” I had to stifle a laugh at that.

“I told him to leave my office,” I admitted guiltily.

“Oh.” I looked up at Trevor, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Trevor, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” If I started, I feared I might never stop.

“Yeah.. I know.” He lifted his head, but he still didn’t look at me.

“Please understand it wasn’t my intention. But everybody was constantly talking about the girls you took pictures with. And these girls- god..” I paused. “When I’m out with you? And they just completely ignore my existence?” I shook my head. “I’m not asking for recognition. That’s not what I want. I just wanted people to respect me.”

Trevor’s head finally turned in my direction.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t fix that.” I shook my head at his words. It was never his fault. I never expected an apology.

“Don’t apologize, T. I shouldn’t have been so hard on you for something you couldn’t have fixed. I should have been harder on myself for letting it get between us.”

Our conversation felt messy and misguided. We were both dancing around a subject we didn’t know how to address.

“It doesn’t have to be between us.” Our eyes met. Could it be that simple? If I just took a step back from everything and stopped listening so much. Maybe it could be fixed.

“After everything I did? After how I walked out?” Trevor cut in front of me, and I bumped right into his body. He reached out to hold me upright.

“Just promise me you’ll open up next time instead of blowing up. Promise me you won’t just walk out.”

The first would take some work, but the second promise I could make with certainty.

I missed Trevor. Every single part of him. Even the parts that annoyed me.

“Trevor, I don’t think I could ever stand the guilt of leaving you that way again.” I spoke softly, my hands slowly resting on his chest before I slid them up to clasp around his shoulders.

“So we’ve solved that problem?” Trevor asked quietly, but hopefully. I nodded, flashing a nervous smile.

“You trust me?” I asked.

“I do. I’ve always trusted you.” I nodded once again at his response.

“Can I kiss you then?” His question made my heart melt.

“Thought you’d never ask, Trev.”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

[auxcordlawd]

Part One: Wandering Thoughts of a Ravenclaw

Summary: 18 year old Ravenclaw student is dating Miles Bletchley (Slytherin), and gets on Professor Snape’s bad side

Warnings: French Kissing, Heavy Petting

Side Note: I prefer long drawn out stories, and this has been a fantasy of mine for quite some time. This is my first time writing fanfic, so lmk any comments, suggestions, feel free.

The snow was finally melting outside the castle, a sign that Easter break was near. After Easter break you only have one more term at Hogwarts, which gives you mixed emotions. You’re excited to start your career, debating between teaching at Hogwarts for Potions or working at St. Mungos as a healer. Both are realistic options due to receiving O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s in Potions, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, and Charms.

You were now sitting in Defense Against the Dark Arts which is now taught by none other than Severus Snape. An ornery, greasy haired, hooked nose professor whom most students either feared or despised. Thankfully you never saw his worst as you followed the rules, yet he seemed annoyed by you. Maybe it was because I’ve typically done well in his courses. That is until this term.

You, a Ravenclaw, recently started dating Miles Bletchley, a Slytherin in your same year. He’s been walking you to classes, and just kissed you for the first time while dropping you off at Defense Against the Dark Arts. You can’t quit thinking of it, and are having trouble paying attention. It’s not until Professor Snape drops books heavily in front of you that you realize you completely zoned out.

“Miss (y/l/n)?”

Snape says looking down at me with a scowl.

“Yes Professor?”

You say while blushing, feeling uncomfortable under his harsh gaze.

“I asked you to repeat the spell you would use to lure a dragon to sleep. The one I mentioned not ten minutes ago.”

“Umm.”

Is all you can get out. You completely missed that part of the lesson.

“Detention with me after class. Perhaps you should concern yourself less with boys and focus on your studies Miss (y/l/n).”

Snape said while lowering his voice for the second sentence.

His concern gave you an odd rush.

After class was over you stayed sitting in your seat, holding you breath for what was about to come.

After the last student left he slammed the door, and briskly walked to your desk, his dark cape flowing behind him.

“Miss (y/l/n), I expect this behavior from the hormonal 4th year girls, but you, an 18 year old young woman, should not be daydreaming about a boy during my lecture. I truly could care less about your personal life, but since you have applied to teach Potions next year, I must question your competence.”

“Professor-“

He cuts me off before you can try to defend myself.

“You will be assisting me to grade papers for the 3rd and 4th year students for the next week starting tomorrow. You will arrive directly after dinner in my office ready to work. If you can get though this simple task I will not immediately remove your application from our files.”

“But-“

“All you need to say is ‘Yes, sir’.” He says in a commanding tone telling you the conversation is over.

“Yes, sir.” You say before grabbing your belongings and heading the Ravenclaw common room to process what just happened.

Your career now hanging on a thread by the most temperamental professor at Hogwarts. It took this for you to realize how badly you wanted to teach as opposed to being a healer. As you process this you start to feel angered by the entire evening.

You feel your stomach growl and realize you've almost missed dinner. You run down the spiral staircase and fall into Miles, who catches you with a smile.

“Woah there (y/n), where are you off too so fast?”

Miles states with a smile, still holding your waist. His blue eyes twinkle in a sexy way as he looks at you. You can’t help but admire his short blonde hair and athletic build, no doubt from all those hours on the quidditch field.

“I am starving, ravenous even.”

You say with flirty grin, liking the feel of his hands your waist.

“Come with me.”

He says pulling your hand away from the Great Hall. You follow without question excited for the distraction from the earlier encounter.

He leads you down the grand staircase and whispers the current password to the Slytherin common room. As the door opens you see a delicious looking spread of food being brought by disgruntled looking house elves. You feel a pang of guilt for the elves, but your grumbling stomach wins.

Miles gestures to a green tufted loveseat, and begins filling up a plate for you. He plops down next to you, handing you the full plate. You start scarfing down the delicious meal as Miles watches with amusement.

“Do they starve you over there at Ravenclaw?” He says with a smirk.

You laugh with a full mouth and elbow him in the ribs.

You finish your meal and start chatting with Miles. Your legs draped over his, his hand on your thigh. You start feeling the building desire to kiss him as the common room empties. You climb onto his lap and start to lightly kiss him as he pulls you closer. His tongue slipping into your mouth, your tongue lightly pushing against his as the heat between you builds. One of his hands slides to your ass under your skirt, the other on your ribs just below your breast under your uniform shirt.

“Ahem.”

You jolt up causing Miles to quickly remove his hands. You turn towards the common room door to see a tall dark figure standing there watching you.

“50 points from Ravenclaw, and Miles you will be reporting to Professor Sprout for detention for two weeks directly after your classes.” Professor Snape said with a smirk seemingly directed at you. “Miss (y/l/n), go straight to your dormitory.”

[natslildove]

gif not mine

Bring you back

natasha romanoff x reader

summary: since vormir, you haven’t been in touch with any avenger, you went missing. no one knew where you were or if you were even still alive. until one day, you hear a knock on the door and a familiar face awakes something inside of you, you thought was long gone. hope.

warnings: swearing, panic attack

authors note: sorry it took me like 2 weeks.. i kind of forgot what the story was supposed to be lol. anyways !!!! hope you enjoy it ! <3

you can find the previous chapter here.

11:07 AM

You’ve been in the compound for less than an hour and you’re at Tony and Bruce’s lab, being overwhelmed with theories of how and why they think they can bring Natasha back.

But the thing is, they only have about 2 days. To be precise, 56 hours. Natasha died at 7:13 PM. That’s why is always so hard to sleep when every night around that time, your mind goes back to Vormir.

“We think that, if we find a way to get to Vormir in time, we might have a chance to stop her”, Tony said.

“Stop her? Won’t that reverse the whole ‘saving the world’ thing?”, you say while looking at the place. It’s a mess. Natasha would’ve hated.

“No, you see, time doesn’t work that way. We can’t go back in time and undo something. It would just create a different timeline, but not change ours. If we go back in time and kill Thanos, everything he’s done will still be done but, the second we kill him, another string of time would be created.”

“Says who?”

“Someone who knows about this stuff, trust me”, Bruce tries to convince you without revealing his source. You look at Tony who just makes a gesture suggesting you to ignore this part.

“So you’re saying that, basically, all we have to do is… Go to Vormir?”

“At the right time, yes”, Stark seems hopeful.

“And why don’t you just get a quinjet or something and go?”

“Because, and that’s the problem, Vormir is about 15.000 light years… We can’t get there.”

You knew it. All of this was just bullshit and suddenly you hated yourself even more for believing there might actually be a way of bringing her back. You try processing what Bruce just said and it’s like the whole universe is laughing at you for being so stupid. How could you. You were fine. Or at least you tried to believe you were. She’s dead. She is dead. Natasha is dead. Your girlfriend is dead. Girlfriend. God, you couldn’t even propose to her, the ring long forgotten somewhere in the locked room. This is all so stupid. You’re so stupid and your girlfriend is dead and you never even get to call her your fiancé or wife or nothing. Nothing. She was nothing now. You’re not even a widow, you’re just nothing. You’re no one and you have no one. You’re alone. It should’ve been you. Not her. She was perfect, she deserved to live. She deserved to win. She should be here.

“Woah, hey! Y/N! Hey, what happened?” Tony is holding your face between his hands and you just now realize you were crying. Bawling. You heart was beating so fast you felt like throwing up.

Fucking panic attacks.

You couldn’t speak, your eyes going back and forth but never really looking at the man in front of you. You shake your head and dries your tears with the back of your hands with a certain strength. You whole face is red and Tony and Bruce are giving you pitiful looks.

God, you hated this. So much.

“I’m fine, it’s fine” you take a deep breath, “Just keep going… How- Is there a way to get there or not?”

“Are you sure you’re okay? We can-“

“I’m fine!”, you cut Bruce, “I’m fine, okay? Just answer me”

“Uhm, there might be a way”

“Stop with this might this might that. Just fucking say it already”

“You know Carol? Captain Marvel, Space chick, blonde and tall?”

“I know of her”

“She got her powers from the Tesseract”, Tony continues, “And now, she can fly trough galaxies like, super fast!“

“So we need her?”

“Not exactly”, this time, Bruce says, “Carol is really, really far away, not even with all her powers she could get there in time. We can’t even reach her”, the scientist looks at you, “We need the Tesseract”

“To create a machine?”

“To hit someone with it”, Tony says while cleaning his throat. You barely even listened.

“What? Are you- Are you serious?”

“It could work”

“It could kill someone! This Carol chick only survived because she was half Kratos or something!”

“Kree, and yeah, maybe, but”, the sortear guy keeps trying to convince you, “It worked! All we need is someone willing to do it. Without risk tests and all the regular procedures we are legally required to do”

Oh. A lab rat. They needed a lab rat dumb enough to sacrifice their life’s for a maybe.

Maybe the person will die. Maybe the whole compound would explode. Maybe it wouldn’t even do nothing.

Maybe they’d get Natasha back.

“I’ll do it”

“Yeah, we know Romeo”, Tony smiles. Bruce walks fast to a closet, opening and grabbing a suit.

“We made from your old measures but…”, Banner looks at you up and down and you feel embarrassed and exposed, “We might need to tighten a little bit”

Ouch, what a way to call you malnourished.

12:33 - 55 hours and 20 minutes until Vormir

Bruce was still measuring you in the lab and it was quiet. You knew he had questions but you were grateful he didn’t asked them.

Yelena enters the place holding a bag os chips and a bottle of water. She doesn’t say anything just gives it to you.

“Eat. And drink it”

“I’m not really hungry”

“I literally did not asked anything”, she opens the bag while still in your hands and grabs some chips, “Natasha will hate to see you like this”, she smiles, “I can picture her complaining about your habits”’ now she laughs, “I mean, when she sees your house she will freak out! You killed all her plants! The place is a mess”

“You’ve only seen the outside”

“Sure”

“What do you mean, ‘sure’?”

“I mean…”, she steals more chips, “Sure”

You get this weird feeling that she’s been visiting you without you realizing it. It says a lot about you.

When Yelena stops rambling about her sister, that’s when you realize you’ve eaten some chips. Basically the whole bag, per se.

“You talk as if you’re sure this will work”, now you’re drinking the water. Yelena is smiling not only because of the conversation.

“Someone has to, right?”

Yeah. Someone has to.

1049 words.

taglist: @fxckmiup @janashstorm @smromanoff @natsxwife @makkaroni221 @marvelogic @thelonewriter247 @lizzeolsenismommy @g-athenaathens ( tumblr just won’t let me tag u idk why i’m sorry :(( )

[staylovesmiley]

Connected~ Teaser

It was late, far too late for the two of them to be awake, and yet here they were.

The sound of rain was loud against the roof of the old building belonging to the company. Chris was sitting on the floor with his back pressed to the couch in the corner of the room, working diligently on his laptop with a pair of headphones sat atop his head.

Lumi stood in the middle of the room, chest heaving as she finished running through the routine for that month’s evaluation for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. Frustration coursed through her as she stripped off the loose tshirt she wore and threw it at the mirrored wall with a groan.

The noise caused the Aussie teen to pause his music program and slip the headphones off his head to rest around his neck. “Woah there- maybe put that back on before someone walks in and gets the wrong idea, yeah?” Lumi raised a hand to flip him off, while also walking to pick up the discarded shirt and slip it back on. “S’not like I was naked or anything I had a sports bra on-“ she grumbled, huffing as she leaned against the wall before slowly sliding down to sit against the cool hardwood floor.

Chris sat his laptop down beside him and fully took the headphones out to join her where she sat across the room from him. “Come on….what’s got you so worked up. You usually don’t stress about monthly evaluations like this. Especially dance- spill it.” Lumi sighed, hating how well the older teen could read her.

She ran her hands across her face, shaking her head hoping that it would clear her overthinking like an etchesketch. “It’s been so long, Christopher- what if they never plan to debut me? What if the second I misstep they use that as a reason to drop me all together?” She said, eyes stinging with tears as she glared defiantly at the floor in front of them.

Chris shook his head, letting out a soft chuckle. “Geez this must be seriously bothering you to call me Christopher-“ without a second thought he grabbed hold of the girl’s ankle and pulled her so she was sat in front of him. “Chris what the-“ her eyes were wide, looking at him as her cheeks began to heat up at the way he handled her so effortlessly.

The older placed his hands on her shoulders, locking eyes and leaning in so that Lumi could practically feel his breath fanning over her face as he spoke. “You aren’t going anywhere. You’re gonna do fine, you’ll be placed in a group any day now I just know it. You are too talented not to.” His words seemed to go over her head, her heartbeat racing and her mind only able to process how close he was to her face like this. “PD-nim would be absolutely idiotic not to debut you. We’ve been over this so many times before, Lumi.”

Nodding slowly, his words began to sink in as the shock of the close proximity wore off and her nerves began to settle in once more. “You’re one to talk…you’re pretty much set to debut. You’ve got it all, Chris- you can sing, dance, rap, and you’re one of the best producers here. You always ace all of your evaluations, JYP thinks you’re special.” Just as Chris was about to deny her words, she sat up on her knees in front of him and became defensive. “I’ve heard him say it! Don’t even try with me, Christopher.” The boy winced and let out an awkward laugh. “Two Christophers in less than an hour- you wound me.” He teased, poking at her chest lightly though it caused her to sit back on her heels and stare at him blankly.

The older sighed, reaching out and pulling her into a warm embrace. “Chris I’m all sweaty from practice-“ she squealed, struggling to get away though it made him hold tighter and laugh maniacally. “As if that’s bothered either of us before? Let me looovveee you~” he sing-songed the last bit, rubbing her back in soothing circles until she relaxed against his chest.

The two teenagers stayed like that for a while, just listening to each others breathe, Lumi seeming to be focused on committing the older’s heartbeat to memory. Eventually she pulled away, looking at him with a bitter sweet expression. “Thank you for trying to cheer me up…I just- this uncertainty is killing me.” He nodded, pulling his knees to his chest. “Me too, Lumi….trust me you aren’t alone. I know everyone around here thinks so highly of me but-“ “that just makes the possible failure that much scarier.” She finished for him, taking one of his hands into hers and giving it a soft squeeze.

author’s note: this is just a sneak peek I still won’t be posting this fully until Collision is completed but I got this done (and more but only sharing this for now) and wanted to give a little teaser since I got a decent amount of notes already on just the master list for this series- ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ ᯓᡣ𐭩

[kaydreamer]

Hell and Heaven

“You can’t be serious,” said Fahrenheit, leaning against the wall of the tiny apartment, arms crossed and a scowl covering her face. “Hot piece of ass in a vault suit walks through the door and you lose your fucking mind.”

“I haven’t lost my fuckin’ mind,” Hancock parroted back as he pulled old food and rubbish from a pantry, throwing everything inedible into a basket. “And it’s not because she’s hot. It’s for a good cause. Figure this place doesn’t see much action, the Minutemen can put it to better use than I can.”

“You use it every other week, Hancock.”

“Yeah, and I can use my own digs upstairs at the Statehouse just as well. Less soundproof, but hey. I ain't shy.”

“So it’s for the Minutemen,” said Fahrenheit, her voice laced with skepticism. “Which is why you’re cleaning it, filling it full of new food, and cooking a fucking stew for when she gets back from Pickmin's. If she gets back from Pickmin's.”

“Okay, so maybe I’m goin’ a little further than I would if she wasn’t the prettiest fuckin’ woman I ever saw,” Hancock admitted, taking a rag and wetting it in a small bucket of Abraxo-soaped water. “And she’ll be back. I only asked her to scout.”

“She’s a vault dweller, Hancock,” said Fahrenheit, exasperated. “She’s greener than a super mutant’s asscheek, still wearing the fucking suit. You think she’ll last long down East Boston way?”

“Quit ya pessimism. She got herself here, didn’t she?”

“With Valentine’s help.”

“...Look, she’ll be fine, okay?” said Hancock, firmly. “I ain’t in the habit of sendin’ people off to their deaths, and she wouldn’t be with the Minutemen if she couldn’t hold her own.”

“Right. Because the Minutemen are flush with recruits after Quincy,” muttered Fahrenheit, but she dropped the subject. “Want me to check on that stew before you burn down the Statehouse with it?”

“Should be good for another half-hour,” said Hancock. “But if you’re offerin’, chuck in a cup of water and a half-cup of brahmin milk. Should keep it goin’ ‘till I get back there.”

“On it,” said Fahrenheit. “Have fun cleaning.”

---

Hope returned to the Statehouse at sundown, ashen-faced and bloodied, with a haunted look in her eyes. Hancock had just kicked his feet up on his favourite couch with Fahrenheit, ready to settle in for the evening with some Jet and a bottle of moonshine, but he was on his feet as soon as he saw her, concern etched in the twisted grooves of his face.

“How’s my little scout doin’?” he asked, steadying her elbow with his hand when she swayed slightly. “You find out what’s happenin’ at the Pickmin Gallery?”

Hope shuddered, visions of gore and dark red paintings flashing through her mind, accompanied by the overwhelming metallic cloy of fresh blood and butchered flesh.

“How do I even start,” she said, through clenched teeth. “You know why they called it the Pickmin Gallery?”

“No, that was the point of the whole job, remember?” said Hancock, his tone teasing but not unkind. “What are you trying to say?”

“Oh God, it was awful.” Hope swallowed before continuing. “Pickmin was a serial killer and… he was using dead bodies for his… art.”

“Woah, seriously?” Hancock recoiled, his face twisted in horror. “That’s messed up, even for this town. I’ll put the word out to avoid that place.”

“Should be safe enough now, he’s dead,” said Hope. “So are all the raiders. Though I wouldn’t recommend a gallery tour.” A small, haunted laugh escaped her. “Doubt Pickmin’s ‘art’ will have much resale value once those bodies start decaying.”

“You took ‘em out?” Hancock looked impressed. “Good work. You ended up in the abyss, but ya crawled back in one piece.” He dug around in his pockets and withdrew a pouch. “Here’s your money.”

She took it soundlessly.

“Got somethin’ else for ya too,” said Hancock, beckoning her through the doorway. “Follow me.” 

Hope followed without a word, glancing back at Fahrenheit as she stepped through the threshold. The red-haired woman just stared, her face impassive and unreadable.

Hancock led Hope across town and down a little alley beside the Memory Den to a door concealing a cramped elevator. It was sealed with a code lock, his fingers finding the right buttons easily in the gloom. He ushered her through first, squeezing himself into the opposite corner as Dogmeat wove his way in to sit between their legs.

“Where are we going?” she asked, as the doors groaned shut.

“It’s a surprise,” said Hancock, with a cheeky wink. “Nothin’ nefarious, don’t worry.”

“You have a reputation for the nefarious?” said Hope, a bit of her own spark returning to her eyes.

“Oh, you got no idea,” Hancock rumbled, leaning a little closer just as the elevator jerked to a stop. He stepped through the door as it opened with a chime, throwing his arms wide as he walked into a tiny but neatly-furnished apartment. “Tada!” he sang. “Welcome to your new home in Goodneighbor.”

Hope stood in the elevator door, staring around as every coherent thought abandoned her.

“This… is for me?” she said.

“For the Minutemen, technically,” Hancock said with a small shrug of his shoulders.

Hope walked forward, taking in the little space. It was tidy and surprisingly nice, softly lit by a warm ceiling light. More light spilled in from the streetlamps outside through a large wrought iron window looking over Goodneighbor. A double bed was tucked into one corner, a red velvet curtain separating it from the rest of the space. Dogmeat sniffed around a small but well-equipped kitchenette, with a stove, a pantry and a fridge. A few shelves and a work desk with a terminal had been squeezed in as well. To her right, a glass door concealed a little bathroom within which she saw, with a shiver of excitement, what looked like a shower.

It was pleasant. Truly, refreshingly pleasant. She could scarcely believe it was real.

“Did this belong to Finn?” she asked, thinking that perhaps his death was the reason Hancock could offer her such a space. Hancock laughed.

“Oh, hell no! Finn didn’t have the friends ya need to score a place like this. No, it’s mine, but I got my own digs upstairs at the Statehouse. This place only ever got used for entertainin’, uh…” he cleared his throat, a devious expression on his face. “…special guests. Figure I can make do without it.”

Hope was floored. It was Hancock’s love nest?

“Wow, Hancock, are you sure?”

“Told ya I believe in what you’re doin’, sister,” he said, patting her shoulder. “Commonwealth was a better place with the Minutemen around. Consider this my contribution to the cause. Somewhere for you and yours to sleep safe and freshen up when you’re passin’ by this way.”

“Oh my God, I…” Hope struggled to find the words to express her bewildered gratitude. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Hope carried on, doing her best through shock and exhaustion to give voice to how much his generosity meant. “This is the nicest little space I’ve been in since I woke up to this hell, I don’t know what to say, its…” She wandered over to the bed and pressed down on the mattress, startled by how deliciously soft it was. “Oh God, it’s a real bed.”

Hancock chuckled warmly from behind her, the sound sending an unexpected tingle down her spine. “Well, I’ll leave ya to get acquainted with it,” he said, before turning back toward the door. “Oh yeah, check the fridge tomorrow mornin’. Left a little somethin’ there for ya.”

“Hey, Hancock?” Hope asked, a nervous quiver in her voice.

“Yeah?”

Hope had spoken before she could stop herself. She certainly didn’t want the kind of ‘entertaining’ he usually used this apartment for, but she also didn’t want to be alone with her rather vivid imagination after everything she’d just seen. Nor did she want him to know that, reluctant to be perceived as weak. She froze for a moment, then chose to play it safe.

“Thanks again,” she said, with a tired smile.

Hancock shot her another wink. “You’re welcome. Again.” He fished around in a pocket, withdrawing a cigarette box and leaving it on the coffee table. “Sleep well.”

“That was fast,” said Fahrenheit, in a deadpan tone, when Hancock returned to the Statehouse.

“Damn, feelin’ brutal tonight, are we?” Hancock laughed and put a hand to his chest, mock-wounded. “Have a little faith Fahrenheit, that ain’t what why I went with her. She don’t strike me as a tourin’ kinda woman, and I ain’t gonna jeopardise a potential alliance with the Minutemen by thinkin’ with my dick. Not with the Brotherhood loomin’ over us.”

“Fair,” said Fahrenheit. She took an inhaler of Jet from the table as Hancock sprawled out on the couch opposite hers, grabbing his own hit on the way. As the fumes dissipated, she spoke again. “So, when she said Pickmin and the raiders were all dead… how many do you reckon she took out?”

“Didn’t ask,” said Hancock. “She looked pretty fuckin’ spooked.”

“Well, she survived,” said Fahrenheit. “That’s more than I expected. You give her some Med-X or something for the shock?”

“Nah,” said Hancock. “Vault dwellers can be weird about that shit, didn’t wanna overstep. Left some nice cigarettes up there though. The good stuff the caravans bring from the South.”

Fahrenheit hummed a small sound of assent before they both fell into a familiar, companionable silence, their night stretching pleasantly through an assortment of chems, booze and a wordless game of chess.

Hope felt exhaustion crash over her in a wave as soon as Hancock left. She unclipped her combat armour piece and stripped out of her bloodied vault suit, stained with the nightmarish butchery she’d waded through, and opened the glass door to the little bathroom. A cold shower would only add to the bone-deep chill she’d felt since walking out of Pickmin’s, but she was covered in dirt and blood, and desperate to be clean. She turned on the shower and a weak but steady spray sputtered from it. Thankful for the sheer convenience of running water, she disrobed from her underthings. She was prepared to brace herself for a quick and frantic duck and scrub under the cold stream when she noticed steam rising.

“Oh my God, warm water?” she said in disbelief, slipping into it with a blissful moan. Never before had a warm shower seemed so absurdly luxurious. She grabbed a bar of soap and took her time scrubbing herself cleaner than she had been in weeks, blood and dirt swirling down the drain and out of sight. Then she pulled the vault suit in with her, rubbing soap into every stain and wringing the gore from it. The fancy, high-tech fabric dried quickly, and she knew it should be good by morning. By the time she was done, the water had begun to cool a little. Probably for the best, she figured, or she’d never leave the shower.

Hope was barely awake as she dried herself. By the time she crawled into the soft bed, Dogmeat already stretched out and snoring along the end of it, she had no energy left for the horrors of the day to play out in her mind.

She fell gently and immediately into a dreamless slumber.

---

Hope awoke the next morning having forgotten the apocalypse. She was clean, warm and dry, snuggled in a soft bed with the dawn light falling gently on her face.

Then a gunshot rang out, and she remembered.

She opened her eyes, realised there was no way for the gunshot to be in the room, grabbed a pillow from beside her, shoved it over her head, and went back to sleep.

When Hope woke again an hour later, the dawn sun had grown brighter with the morning, and the communal babble of the voices on the street below rose gently to rouse her. She lay there, drifting in and out of slumber for a few more minutes, before standing with a slow stretch and pulling on a robe she found hanging by the door. The cigarette box Hancock had left her caught her eye. She picked it up, noticing an unfamiliar logo stamped on the front. ‘Tato Hills Tobacco.’

She pulled one out and lit it, taking a deep draw and breathing out with a long, indulgent sigh. These weren’t two-hundred year old scavenged packets of cigarettes, turned half-dust with time. These were fresh. They also tasted of more than just tobacco - a floral, earthier flavour going straight to her head with a mellow haze. She melted into the couch and wondered if this was a blend or if, like the tato, some mutant hybrid of tobacco and marijuana was the dominant surviving strain of smokable plant.

She realised, too, why Hancock had left them there for her last night, given what she’d just walked out of.

Another little gesture of kindness.

After enjoying her not-quite-a-cigarette, Hope opened the fridge door and was surprised to be met by a puff of cold air. A slight antiseptic smell told her it had been recently scrubbed clean. The middle shelf held an assortment of re-usable screw-top tins and preserving jars, with labels tied around their middles. The top shelf had been removed in favour of hooks holding strips of dried meat. But what drew her eye first was a bright purple hubflower sitting atop one of the tins, a folded note propped against its side. Hope took it with a smile. It was written in a somewhat clumsy yet flamboyant script.

Morning sunshine, The food in the tins and jars is all preserved stuff. Pickles, soups, potted meats. They should keep for about a year in the fridge, maybe a few months on the road. Take them with you, or leave them for when you or yours are passing through. The tin with the flower holds a little something I made for you to start the day with. Hope you enjoy. Hancock

Hope smiled. The man couldn’t help but flirt even when he wasn’t there. Perhaps she’d completely taken leave of her senses - he was definitely a playboy - and heaven only knew she’d had her share of those before the war, each tryst ending in disaster. But wise or not, she had to admit the attention made her slightly giddy. Nothing she couldn’t ignore, but nice nevertheless.

She took the tin and opened it carefully. It was a stewed mix of a few different boiled grains and slices of root vegetables in a light purplish sauce, with strips of meat Hope figured she probably didn’t want to know the origin of. She gave it a careful sniff. It smelled decent enough - savoury, with sweeter notes of spices she didn’t recognise.

‘At least it won’t be poisonous’, she thought, as she emptied it into a saucepan and tried the gas cooker. That worked as well, and soon the little apartment was filled with the scent of whatever it was Hancock had cooked up.

Once she had it bubbling she took it from the stove, emptied it into a bowl, and tried a careful spoonful.

A primal groan escaped her at the taste. It was by far the nicest food she’d eaten since she’d left the vault. Perfectly balanced between savoury and sweet, and spiced to mouthwatering effect. She began to shovel it down like a starving woman before catching herself and deliberately slowing her pace. Something as delicious as this deserved to be savoured.

Far too soon, she was scraping the bottom of the bowl. She put it down for Dogmeat to lick before scanning the room for anything else he could eat. There was a pantry to the side, filled with more jars and little sacks of grains and lentils. A few tins of pre-war dog food were set toward the back. She cracked one open for him and emptied it out into the bowl he had just finished licking.

With Dogmeat taken care of, Hope showered again, enjoying every decadent drop of warm water to hit her skin. Once she was dried and dressed in her newly-clean vault suit, she whistled for Dogmeat to follow and pressed the button for the elevator. She didn’t want to leave this little slice of heaven, but Hancock had given it to her for a reason. She had to find work so she could make the caps she needed… both for the Minutemen, and for Shaun.

Chapter 2

Chapter 4

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

It takes a mob pt. 7

Previous

First

Ao3

Bill thought the kid’s first introduction went pretty well all things considered.

“Well aren’t you a littl’ dumpling? Yes, yes you are. Oh you’re going to be so distracting! I need to call in Gabe. Bill! Who’s his mother? Why is he here!?”

With a grunt he placed another bag on the rack,

“Why do you assume it’s mine?!”

“Well, he ain’t Marv’s, that’s dam for sure! And he better not be Kenny’s! I taught him better than that and I am too dam young to be a Great-granny!”

Bill smacked a snickering Marv as he exited the pantry.

Me-mah was gently swaying to an invisible beat as she worked around the baby on her hip. Danny giggled as he watched the old woman make a roux. Earning himself a peck on the head.

Contrary to what she claimed, Me-mah wasn’t hindered in the slightest, she may have been twirling around but she still held the kitchen with the same iron grip.

Even if said grip was one arm less than usual.

Bill sighed as wiped his brow,

“It ain’t like that Me-mah..”

“Oh did a saucy littl’ minx run out on you? Do in need my boomstick?”

“No No! Ain’t like that! No need for the stick!”

The lady huffed as she went to check on the stock.

“So, then what’s it like? Information is important sonny!”

Marv joined Bill on a stool before butting in,

“There ain’t a lot of information to go around mad’m.”

“Oh?”

Me-mah shifted Danny onto her other hip as she turned,

“How’s that?”

The two men shared an awkward glance as Marv continued on,

“Me-Mah I-, there’s really no easy way to put this. You see-“

“We found him in a garage can.”

Bill decided to take over,

“Had nothing on him but crusty cape.”

Me-mah stopped swaying, much to the displeasure of Danny, and with a gentle ease switched the heat to low.

“Me-mah?”

“Bill, do you mind taking back your son now?”

Bill hesitated for a second,

“He’s not really- “

“Now. William.”

Bill took back the kid.

With a deep breath Me-mah reached under her table,

“Woah Me-mah! There wasn’t shit in the alley way!”

Marv stated as he raised his hands in placating manner,

“They were long gone by the time we walked by and that was hours ago-“

“I’m well aware Marven.”

The lady loaded the auto shotgun in a precise manner,

“Like how I’m well ware I am not a bat. That being said-.”

She cocked the gun,

“If I do not work my frustrations out somewhere then I can’t exactly put my all into the cooking. The soup can simmer.The gun range will do.”

~~~~~~~~~

Ken made his way over to the other guys as they once again wrapped Danny back up in the corner. Marv stood in front of Bill, blocking sight.

“So how was every thing in the kitchen?”

“THAT GODDAM MOTHER FUCKIN’ FLOOZY!!”

Several goons flinched as buckshot could be heard making target.

A quiet muttering of Jesus Christ.. being came from the closest goon to the trio.

“WE’VE BEEN WORKING THESE STREETS FOR TO GODDAM LONG FOR DAT!!”

Bang

“WE AND THE WAYNES”

Bang

“HAVE NOT POURED OUR SWEAT AND TEARS INTO POLISHING UP THIS HELL HOLE!”

The sound of a heavy knife meeting its mark joined the fray,

“TO HAVE SUCH SHIT HAPPEN AGAIN!”

Another shot,

“Jesus fuckin’ crisis, what the fuck did you two do?!”

Ken hissed,

“What did you expect us to do? Hide something from her?”

“When it makes her this angry? Yes!”

“How could we know that she would react this way to the kid’s backstory? Marv isn’t psychic last time I checked.”

Bill finally zipped up the coat and stepped into the open.

“WE GOT BOXES FOR THIS SHIT! INSULATED!”

Bang

“BOXES!”

Bang

“WITH ALARMS!”

One last shot rang out as the old woman finally lost steam. The only thing that could be be heard was her exhausted breaths as she hobbled out of the range.

“As... interesting as that was to hear.”

A voice piped up,

“I didn’t expect such a welcome back.”

Eyes turned up to the warehouse window as the boss made his entrance.

“Everything alright Me-mah?”

The cook let out an embarrassed huff before calling back

“Nothing I can’t handle sonny. Sorry about that.”

“No problem granny, but whoever was the two idiots helping tonight, I expect you in to be in my office with a good reason.”

Fist wave of hoodlums:

@reinluna,@confused-moose-child,@mimilikey,@emeraudesfateandfandoms, @dolfay, @boredomfarie, @aconitewolfsbane, @withoutcontxt, @onyxlightdragon, @satanicrutialspecialist, @phoenixdemonqueen, @vixen-uchiha, @skulld3mort-1fan, @bytheoldwillowtree, @illusionwolfwriter24r8, @thewondersoflebanon, @vipower001, @autumnwulf, @alice-hazelwood, @fisticuffsatapplebees, @f4nd0m-fun, @markus209, @latheevening226, @dolfay, @basilf1res, @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair, @skirter01, @bun-fish, @ascetic-orange, @thegatorsgoose, @sunflowershine03, @ladythugs, @firegirl108, @glitchedchaos, @rangerhorsetug, @mimilikey, @booberrylizard, @lehana37, @dragongoblet, @flamey-comet, @mandyne-1001, @starscreamlover, @moonfirearc, @bae-graphomaniac, @mewzaque, @wolfeyedwitch, @idfk-man10, @demon-cat-goes-woof, @undead-essence, @jaguarthecat,

[timechange]

MCFLY JULY ‘24 — on the radio.

JULY 15, 1989

Marty sighs, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He flexes his hands, rolling his shoulders, trying to work the kink out of his back before getting back to work. That’s pretty much the only downside of tinkering around with various unfinished projects of Doc’s; way too many hours spent hunched over. 

“That was Tom Petty with ‘I Won’t Back Down’ here on KWHV 108.3 and I’m your host, Jamie Lee.” The deejay’s voice is sweet and smooth, and he remembers, warmth creeping across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, that Jamie Lee was his first crush. As if it wasn’t enough she was the coolest girl inside the halls of Hill Valley High, outside of school she was the best basketball player and had the best music taste. A triple threat for sure. 

“Next up we’ve got something kinda special: a new group that’s been soaring through the charts and sent the music world spinning with their electrifying debut.” 

Marty feels his heart quicken in his chest and tries to tell himself to calm down, the radio static buzzing in his head. He drops the screwdriver, which clatters to the table clumsily. There’s no way. There’s absolutely no way in hell she could be talking about–

“So, without further ado, with their lead single ‘Strangerland’ off their album 88, give it up for Hill Valley’s very own hometown boys, McFly and the Flyaways!’ 

His stomach drops. He’d recognize that opening riff anywhere.

“Future sight can’t help me tonight, tired of waitin’ for time to restart–”

“Holy shit,” he breathes. “Holy shit!” he exclaims, leaping to his feet and not even caring that he hits his head on the way up. “Doc! DOC!” 

He only feels a little bad when the door gets kicked open and his best friend bursts into the room like he’s goddamn Batman, clad in safety goggles instead of a cape and wielding a fire extinguisher instead of a Batarang. 

“MARTY!” Doc cries, looking around like a man possessed, frantic in his search for some threat. “What is it? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

He runs to the scientist, grasping his upper arms. His face hurts from smiling so much. 

“Doc! Doc, listen!”

“—ghosts in my head, there’s a ghost in the mirror that I see instead—" comes his own voice a moment later. 

Marty bows his head, grip momentarily tightening. There’s a lump in his throat and when he looks up at Doc again, his blue eyes are watery.

“My song, Doc,” he whispers. An awestruck, dumbstruck, disbelieving smile on his face makes him look all of thirteen again and he couldn’t care less. He lets out a laugh that’s a little too close to a sob for comfort. “They’re playing my song.” 

The fire extinguisher falls to the ground with a thud as Doc returns the embrace, holding Marty at arm’s length so tightly he thinks he’ll wake up with bruises in the morning. If Marty thought his own smile was big and stupid, it had nothing on Doc’s. 

“Do you know what this means?” he murmurs. 

“You were right,” Marty replies. “All the stuff you said to me.” 

“If you put your mind to it…” Doc starts, gently.

“…You can accomplish anything,” Marty finishes. 

The chorus starts, crackly over the radio, but it’s the greatest thing he’s ever heard. 

“Oh, I’m lost in my dreams, fallin' apart at the seams, and time is slippin' through my hand

But I got somethin' to prove, so what have I got to lose?

I'm gonna make it outta this

Strangerland!

I gotta make it outta this

Strangerland!” 

“Woah,” Marty laughs, tears sliding down his face. “This is heavy.” 

Doc pulls him into a bone-crushing hug which he eagerly returns, the instrumentation that took them weeks to nail blaring in the background.

“You did it, Marty. You made it.”

“I made it,” Marty repeats, as if it’ll make it feel more real. He feels lighter than air and like he’s buzzing with electricity, like he’s flying over a thundercloud. “Holy shit, I made it.” A sudden realization shocks him and his eyes widen. “I-I gotta tell the guys!”

“Go on, go on!” Doc encourages, letting him go, watching him fondly as he almost trips over his feet and the rug trying to make it to the phone in Doc and Clara’s library and study. 

However, it’s already ringing when he gets there. 

“Yo!” he greets, out of force of habit.

“Marty!” his dad’s warm voice responds. 

“Marty, honey, turn on the radio, quick!” his mom jumps in. “They’re playing it! Your, um, your Stranger in a Strange Land song!” 

“It’s your song, kiddo!” His dad sounds full to bursting with joy. “And boy, does it sound great!” 

He laughs, using his thumb and forefinger in a fruitless attempt to try to stem the flow of tears.

“Thanks, guys.”

“Oh, sweetheart, we’re so happy for you. And so proud of you, too, so proud.” His mom sounds like she’s about to cry, too. “Linda’s taping it and everything and Dave has it playing at the office!”

“We love you, son,” his dad reminds him, “and you’ll be home for dinner, right?”

“Yeah, Dad. I will. Love you too.”

[now-you-sound-like-a-jedi]

Chapter Nine is up!

In the aftermath of the Jedi Temple bombing, Ahsoka is accused of a horrific crime and she turns to the only person she knows who has been in a similar situation before: Satine. Together, the two try and figure out how to clear her name but, with the entire Coruscant Guard looking for her and very few people they can trust, that might be easier said than done...

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Excerpt:

Satine approached the front door somewhat warily; knocks on one’s door at an hour so late it was practically early were very rarely a good thing. ‘Who is it?’ she called. 

A familiar voice responded. ‘It’s Ahsoka. I’m sorry, I know it’s late,’ she said, ‘But I think I need your help.’

Satine had the door unlocked and opened in seconds, and a sense of unease crept up her spine at the sight of her. Not at the fact that it was Ahsoka - she liked the girl a great deal and it hadn’t taken her long at all to understand why Padmé and Obi-Wan were so fond of her - but rather at the padawan’s entire demeanour. Firstly, she wasn’t dressed for a walk across the city at night; she had no cloak, her arms were bare, and she seemed to be shivering a little. Then there was the look on her face: uncertain, anxious, eyes darting around the hallway like a frightened bogling.

‘Hi,’ Ahsoka said, and her voice matched her expression perfectly. ‘I’m really sorry for just showing up, I just- I didn’t know where else to go.’

Worry began to seep into Satine’s mind, but she forced herself to smile gently. ‘Oh no, don’t be silly,’ she said, ‘Come in. Whatever’s the matter?’

Ahsoka stepped into the apartment, throwing one last nervous glance over her shoulder. Only once Satine had closed and locked the door again behind her did she attempt to explain. ‘I didn’t do it, I swear I didn’t.’ She was talking rapidly, stumbling over her words. ‘I don’t know how-’ 

‘Woah, woah.’ Satine cut her ramblings short. ‘Okay, slow down, ad’ika. What didn’t you do?’

‘They, um-’ Ahsoka hesitated. ‘They think I killed someone.’

Satine’s eyes widened. ‘Oh,’ she said, somewhat uselessly. Whatever she might have been expecting Ahsoka to say, it certainly wasn’t that. ‘Okay, that’s ah- somewhat less than ideal…’ Understatement of the millennium, but there you go. ‘Alright, why don’t I make us a cup of tea and you can tell me what happened?’

Ahsoka nodded shakily. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Yeah, okay.’

Satine went to put an arm around her but startled back at the chill of her skin. ‘Stars, you’re freezing!’ she exclaimed. ‘Here-’ She took off her thick cardigan and wrapped it around Ahsoka’s shoulders.

Ahsoka slipped her arms into the sleeves and pulled them down over her hands, curling her fingers around the cuffs. ‘Thanks,’ she mumbled. 

She followed Satine into the kitchen and sat down at the table, the sound of the chair dragging across the floor seeming unusually harsh.

Satine kept one eye on Ahsoka as she made the tea. Sitting there at the table, wrapped in Satine’s cardigan, staring blankly ahead of her, she didn’t look like a Jedi apprentice who spent her days decapitating battle droids on the front lines; she looked like a scared sixteen-year-old girl who didn’t know what she was supposed to do now.