#after the road to hell is paved with good intentions | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

daryl-dixon-daydreams · 4 months

Text

Words: 4,776 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria, pre-Negan Warnings: language, gore, violence, descriptions of flashbacks and implied PTSD, fear and anxiety Summary: After seeing Y/N freeze outside the walls a few days earlier during an encounter with walkers, Carol suggest that she needs to learn how to fight. Shortly after, she goes missing.

“Hey. Have ya seen Y/N?” Daryl drawled. “I can’t find her anywhere. I’ve been lookin’ for over an hour. We were s’posed to meet up today but she didn’t show.” Even as he said it, his stomach twisted. That wasn’t like you to miss an agreed on meeting.

Glenn shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since this morning. Maggie?” Maggie shook her head, at a loss.

Carol shifted uncomfortably and Daryl picked up on it immediately, his eyes narrowing and becoming sharp. “Carol?” he prodded her.

She straightened up and met his discerning gaze. “I need some air,” Carol said. “Come on out and—and we’ll talk.” She didn’t give Daryl an option and quickly moved through the kitchen, down the hall, and out onto the porch.

Daryl burst out after her, tense and unsettled. “S’goin’ on?” he growled.

Carol spun and leaned back against the railing, crossing her arms over herself as if it would shield her from the reaction she seemed to know was coming. “I saw her earlier. We… talked.” Daryl’s eyes narrowed even further.

“Ya talked. And now she’s nowhere to be found? What the hell did ya say?”

Carol shifted anxiously again. “I just—I told her that it would be a good idea if she got some lessons on how to fight… I told her she could ask you or Rosita or—”

“Ya what?” he growled, stepping up to her. His face seemed to flare up crimson. “Why the hell didya say anythin’ to her like that?”

Carol gave him dubious look. “Daryl. She’s useless when it comes to—”

He was immediately pointing angrily in her face. “Ya dunno what the hell yer talkin’ about! Ya shouldn’ta said anythin’!” He stalked angrily back and forth across the porch.

Carol was a little taken aback by how angry he was. “Well, am I wrong? She hardly leaves the walls and when we were out last week and those walkers came in, she just froze!”

Daryl paced a tight circle in front of her. “Ya dunno what yer talkin’ about,” he growled again. “And it ain’t none of yer damn business. Why’d ya have to say anythin’ to her? Huh? Can’t ya just worry ‘bout yer damn self?”

Now Carol did scoff. “It’s my business if I want to help her stay alive!” She watched the scowl on Daryl’s face incredulously. “Or are you making that your job now?” she asked him pointedly.

He froze in his pacing, his shoulders thrown back. “Ya, maybe I am.”

Carol shook her head. “You’re gonna take on that responsibility? Do you have any idea what that—” Past feelings of guilt and grief for Sophia, for Mika and Lizzie welled up inside her. “You have no idea how it feels to shoulder that and fail.”

“Oh, really? I don’t? What ‘bout Beth, huh?”

Carol immediately went silent, her mouth hanging slightly open. She closed her eyes and sighed. “I—I’m sorry. I—”

“Ya forgot?” he growled. “Yeah, tha’s a luxury I ain’t got.”

“No, of course I didn’t forget. I just didn’t—Look, I’m sorry if you feel that I was out of line with Y/N. But I was doing it from a place of good intentions.”

“Yeah. The road to hell is paved with ‘em. Ain’t that what they say?” He shot her another sharp look and shook his head dismissively. “Forget it. I gotta find her. Ya ain’t got no idea what ya—” He broke off, shaking his head, and hurried toward his place to collect his gear.

Glenn and Maggie came out, announced by the creak of the screen door. Carol was staring at Daryl’s figure shrinking down the road. “You okay?” Glenn asked, stopping beside her. “Sounded… bad,” he mused.

“I’m fine,” Carol said. “You know how he can be,” she added with a forced smile. “Mostly bark.”

Maggie came and stood at the railing, looking after Daryl’s retreating figure too. “You have any idea what’s goin’ on? About Y/N, I mean.”

Carol shook her head. “No. Obviously there’s something we don’t know about her. All I said to her was that she should get some lesson to learn to fight. Daryl was furious. I don’t know why…”

“Well,” Maggie sighed, “hopefully he finds her and nothing else comes of it. I’m sure it’ll be alright,” she reassured Carol.

Daryl was soon at the gate and called up to Tobin who was on watch. “Hey. Ya been on watch long?”

He leaned over the railing to look down at Daryl and nodded. “Yeah. Since after the midday meal.”

“Ya know Y/N?” Daryl asked.

Tobin nodded. “Sure. She went out a few hours ago with her pack. Hasn’t come back in yet. I was a bit surprised to be honest. She hasn’t left the walls very often since Aaron brought her in.”

Daryl nodded. “Ya see which way she was headin’?”

“Straight down the road ‘til I couldn’t see her anymore,” Tobin said, straightening up. “Should we be worried?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

Daryl shrugged. “I dunno. Tha’s why ‘m headin’ out. I’ll find her. Thanks,” he called up. Tobin waved him out and another Alexandrian rolled the gate back so he could exit. It clanged shut behind him with a noise that felt strangely ominous. Daryl set off straight down the road, just as Tobin said you had, and he scrutinized it for any sign of you. After several minutes of walking he found a small boot print in the dirt that definitely could have belonged to you. A shot of anxiety ran through him like a white-hot lightning bolt. What the hell was Carol thinking? Telling you to learn to fight… Shit. Another voice in his head answered, She didn’t, couldn’t know. He rubbed a hand over his mouth and chin as he straightened up and continued walking. His blue eyes were narrowed as he scanned the tree line on either side of the road and the grassy ditch beside him. You had to be alright. You had to be.

He walked for about another twenty minutes, painstakingly scrutinizing the side of the road to make sure he didn’t miss a path you’d veered off on, when he suddenly saw some dark bundle up ahead in the ditch. His heart plummeted into his stomach and his feet faltered. It was still too far ahead and partially obscured in the long grass and weeds. He couldn’t tell what it was. He took off toward it at a quickened pace before breaking into a full out run. After the first couple steps into the grass, he stopped dead. It wasn’t you. Thank God, it wasn’t you. He took a moment and bent forward with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Sweat dripped down his face from his hairline and he took out his bandana to mop at it, his mouth still open, chest heaving. He straightened up and looked down at the ragged corpse.

There was an obvious knife wound in the side of the head. A trickle of gore had run out of it and dripped down the sunken face and into the grass. It had been killed recently. He lifted his eyes to the trees ahead and squinted into the shadows beneath them. This had to have been you.

His steadiness regained, he searched back toward the road and found another boot print in some soft soil that matched the one he had seen on the road. He returned to the body and easily spotted a narrow, trampled path that led into the woods. He swung his crossbow down off his shoulder, his nerves buzzing.

He’d barely made it under the coolness of the leafy canopy when he came on another walker. This one too had been stabbed in the head with a clean knife wound. There were a few scuffs in the dirt near the body where the confrontation had clearly taken place. He struggled to find your path forward at first. The ground was carpeted in old leaf litter and scattered with patches of herbaceous plants that could easily obscure any marks left by you. But when he finally raised his eyes to look ahead into the distance, he saw more bodies… a string of walkers, unmoving heaps on the ground. He headed straight for them.

What the hell were you doing? You’d come out here after Carol’s obtuse comment to, what? Kill walkers?

Sure enough, these three walkers had also been stabbed in the head, though one must have put up more of a struggle because it had a wound to its abdomen that was spilling a putrid mix of shit and gore onto the ground. Daryl stood and continued deeper into the woods, following your trail on a mere depression here and a broken twig there. The afternoon was wearing away into evening now and he was getting worried. He needed to find you before it got dark. Tracking on this ground by the beam of his light would be far too difficult and he didn’t like the thought of you out here in the dark, alone somewhere. What if you’d gotten hurt and couldn’t get back? What if you couldn’t find a safe place? What if you’d run into trouble you didn’t expect? No. He had to find you.

After a while, Daryl didn’t need to search for the scarce marks you’d left behind anymore. He simply had to follow the trail of bodies. They were becoming more and more frequent and the clusters were varying now from single walkers to six at a time and everything in between, all stabbed. His heart was starting to race with adrenaline. He’d lost count of how many corpses you’d put down and there was still no clear sign of you. Dusk wasn’t far off. He urged himself to move faster.

Suddenly, he came on a walker that hadn’t been completely put down. It was still clawing at the earth, digging its skeletal fingers into the ground as it tried crawl toward him. This was prevented, however, but the upper body being completely separated from the lower. It looked crushed, or perhaps it had just decayed that way and fallen apart.

Daryl stabbed his knife into its skull with a swift and skillful motion and the low growls ceased. He squinted around into the trees. “Y/N?” he called out as loudly as he dared. It seemed to echo in his ears but die only a few feet away from him, stopped as if by some invisible force that swallowed the sound. The air felt suddenly thick and tense.

More growls sounded up ahead and Daryl rushed forward to meet a tall thin walker ambling his way. There was a deep slash to one side of its neck, deep enough that the head was bent at an odd angle in the opposite direction. It staggered and let out a loud snarl as it reached for him but he raised his bow and fired a bolt straight into its forehead. It fell with a thud and laid still among two other bodies.

He didn’t like this. All these bodies and then suddenly two that were left alive? His stomach twisted. “Y/N?” he called again, a little louder this time. He heard nothing in the crushing silence of the woods except for the occasional rustle of leaves overhead or in the understory.

He tried his hardest to swallow the constriction in his throat, but it didn’t seem to do much. Moving forward again, the trees began to open up slightly and the ground became grassier. In the waning daylight he first saw a looming shape that then materialized into a rundown trailer house. He quickened his pace but was soon stopped by the sheer number of scattered walkers in the overgrown yard. There was a tremendous amount, some even piled on top of one another. He felt a rush of panic. “Y/N?!” he called out, making for the house, stepping over one corpse after another. He burst in through the partially open door, which rebounded with a sharp bang.

There was a rising snarl and clattering sound and a couple still upright walkers lunged toward him from one of the rooms, but he put them down with a skillful shot from his crossbow and thrust with his knife. Please don’t let her be in here. Please. The inside of the house was putrid with the telltale signs of a long occupation by the undead. Daryl searched each room, his apprehension somehow growing with every door he opened, but he found no sign of you inside. You weren’t in here. You weren’t.

At least relieved that you weren’t in that nightmarish house, though still on edge, Daryl returned to the yard. “Y/N?!” he called again. He paused to set another bolt in the flight groove of his crossbow. When he looked up again, his eyes landed on something ahead that was entirely out of place among the bodies.

He paced over to it slowly, afraid of what he might find. He felt suddenly shaky and his hands gripped his crossbow too tight.

There on the ground at his feet was your pack.

He knelt beside it and turned it over. It was intact, but splattered with walker blood and gore. At least there was no sign of your blood—no bright, shocking crimson stains.

There was a depression in the grass beside it, just a small one, and he touched it thoughtfully before raising his eyes and scanning the ground ahead. There. A glint of silver. His breath caught between his lungs.

Your knife.

Daryl rushed over to where it was lying in the grass. It was covered with blood, and some of it on the blade seemed too red to be from the walkers. “Shit,” he said out loud, gripping the handle and turning it over in his hands. He shot up to his feet and nearly whirled around frantically. “Y/N!” Where could you be? You’d lost your gear and your knife. It was almost night. And you might be injured.

He didn’t understand this riddle… the fresh, living blood on your knife. He pressed forward, his eyes darting from one corpse to the next. He wasn’t sure he was even breathing. He was so afraid that one of the figures would be you. “Y/N!” he yelled again, the loudest yet. “Y/N, if ya can hear me—” He stopped short as he rounded the back corner of the house. There was a small garden shed in the corner of the yard. The door was shut tightly. He gulped.

Pushing down the nauseous feeling in his stomach and ignoring the tightness in his chest, he paced toward it. When he reached the door, he stared at it for a long moment. Half of him was telling him not to open that shed—that whatever he was about to find in there wasn’t something he should see. But the other half was screaming all the louder that you were going to be fine and you were in that fucking shed and he was going to get to you and fix whatever the hell this was…

He reached for the handle and popped the latch which resounded with a heavy metallic clunk. The bottom of the door scraped and groaned on the plywood floor but it finally bounced open wide enough for him to peer inside.

His breath caught in his throat and his heart jumped upward, rising, and then sinking again as he fully absorbed what he was seeing.

There you were, sitting in a tight ball on the floor among the dirty, dusty, spider-web draped pots and rusty garden tools. Your arms were wrapped tightly around your legs and your chin almost rested on your knees. Your eyes looked up at him from behind layers and smears of walker blood and dirt, wide and fearful.

Swallowing nervously, he pushed the door open wide to let more of the dimming light in. “Hey…” he said softly, as gently as he could. “Hey, Y/N. I’ve been lookin’ for ya.”

You hardly reacted. Your eyes simply dropped back toward the floor.

Daryl moved slowly and deliberately, immensely worried about the fragile state you seemed to be in. He leaned his crossbow up against the open door and swung his pack down. He crouched low so he was on your level. “Are—are ya hurt?”

You didn’t move, didn’t even acknowledge the question.

He chewed anxiously on his bottom lip for a long moment. “Y/N? Can ya look at me?” He edged closer to you, kneeling in front of you. “Jus’ look at me. Please?”

Slowly, your eyes lifted to his face and he saw that they were brimming with tears.

“Hey—s’okay. S’alright. ‘M righ’ here. Yer okay,” he said, nodding. He felt like a bubble had formed in his chest. “Are ya hurt? They didn’t—the walkers—tell me they didn’t—”

You shook your head, blinking to try and clear your eyes. It was then that he noticed a scrap of your shirt was tied around one of your hands.

“Can I see?” he asked, gesturing toward your hand.

You bit your bottom lip thoughtfully a moment before you nodded and held it out to him. Daryl carefully unwrapped the makeshift bandage and turned your hand over to see a gash across your lower palm, extending almost to the bottom of your thumb. It was a clean cut, and suddenly the blood on your knife made sense. Perhaps in some struggle, slick with walker blood, your hand had slipped onto the blade and you’d cut yourself. Maybe that was why you’d dropped the knife. The cut started to bleed again as Daryl looked at it, holding your hand flat on his.

“I’ve got some stuff in my bag. I’ll take care’a this.” He reached behind him and tugged his pack forward before digging out the small first aid kit he’d packed. He grabbed his canteen from the side pocket and poured water onto your hand, dabbing at the cut with a clean bit of gauze and flushing it thoroughly. Then he dried it as best he could and applied some ointment before wrapping the whole thing with a fresh gauze pad and bandage. You were still as stone as he tended to you. “Anythin’ else?” he drawled softly when he was satisfied.

You shook your head, looking suddenly exhausted. “No. My shins are pretty banged up but—I’m okay. It’s just that.”

Daryl was relieved to hear you say anything, even if your voice was a little quiet and shaky. He nodded again. His eyes flitted over your figure, still hunched in front of him in a way that made you look smaller than you were. “Can—can ya tell me what happened? I mean, I followed the bodies here but—”

Your eyes dropped again and you pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth again.

Daryl hesitated a moment and then steadily moved to sit beside you in that small space. He didn’t know what to say, turning words over and over in his head, trying to figure out which were the right ones. Finally, he broke the silence. “‘M sorry… ‘bout what Carol said to ya. She doesn’t know what—what happened to ya before, what ya went through outside, ya know?”

You shook your head. “It’s not her fault.”

Daryl glanced at you beside him and hated the filth coating your skin. He shifted and grabbed his canteen again, pulling his bandana from his pocket next and waiting until you met his eyes. “Can I clean ya up a bit?” he asked hesitantly.

You met his eyes for a long moment and for some reason his tension eased. Maybe it was because yours were looking less wild now, less desperate and fearful. You nodded in response to his question and he poured some water onto his bandana and began to mop gently at the splatter on your cheek and forehead. Your eyes closed at the touch of the fabric and a long, quiet exhale escaped from between your lips. His touch was grounding, rooting you back in the present in a way you hadn’t been since—

“Can ya tell me what happened?” he asked again. “ S’alrigh’ if ya can’t.” He poured more clean water onto his bandana and dabbed at a splotch near your jaw.

“Carol said that to me and I thought—she’s right. I just needed to do it. I thought I’d just prove to myself that I could still be—still be out here.”

“Mmm,” Daryl hummed, pausing to study your expression.

“I started killing walkers. And then there were more and more and I just followed the trail. And at first I was just so angry,” you said, ducking Daryl’s gaze and running a hand over the bandage on your palm thoughtfully. “I just wanted to put them all down, you know? I wanted to kill every fucking walker in the whole world. I was just so angry.” Your voice broke slightly and you shook your head, your eyes filling with tears again that stung and blurred your vision. “Then there were more and more and I—stupidly, I just kept following them. Then there were so many.” You looked up at him with wide eyes. “I didn’t know that house was full. And they broke out through the door. And it was like a—a flood of them all closing in around me.” You paused to try and gain control of your breathing again, it had grown rapid and shallow with the swelling anxiety as you remembered.

Daryl’s brow was heavily furrowed over his bright blue eyes, but they were soft. He found a clean area of his bandana and poured a little more water on it, lifting his hand again to smooth away a smear on your chin.

You stared at him during this tender moment and felt some dam break in you, some last wall came crumbling down. He’d come after you. He’d noticed you missing and he’d followed. He’d tracked you all the way here from Alexandria. Your heart swelled for him.

“I was killing as many as I could and then—I—the flashbacks hit me—I think,” you paused and drew in a staggered breath, “I don’t know if it was the blood or the smell or the sounds—but I was seeing it all over again, like it was really happening. I was seeing them ripping apart my family after the outbreak and then—they weren’t walkers anymore all of a sudden, they were those men that—that—”

“S’okay,” Daryl interrupted you. “Ya dun gotta say anymore. I know…”

You leaned your head back and shut your eyes, waiting for your heart and breathing to slow again. Daryl watched you carefully and waited until your eyes opened again and you looked at him. He gulped. “‘M sorry. ‘M sorry that happened to ya, all of it. And ‘m sorry Carol said what she said. She was outta line.”

You shook your head, your posture finally uncurling from that tense, protective ball. “No. She couldn’t know. She doesn’t. It’s not her fault. It was stupid of me to leave the walls alone. I knew this could happen, the flashbacks, you know. But what she said—it triggered something in me…”

Daryl nodded and returned to his canteen and the bandana and his gentle ministrations to clean the blood and dirt from your skin.

“I just don’t want people to think—” you broke off again, biting your bottom lip.

“Think what?” he asked, mopping gently at a smear of walker blood on the side of your neck.

“That I’m… useless. Helpless,” you said, ducking your head. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

Daryl pulled back with the cloth and looked at you for a long moment before he sighed. “It don’t matter what people think, alrigh’? Most of the damn time they’re gonna think what they wanna anyway, with or without proof. But ya aren’t useless and ya sure as shit ain’t helpless. I dunno how many of those walkers ya killed today but it was a lot. Ya know how to fight. But none of that matters, even if ya didn’t. If ya never leave the walls again, it don’t matter. If ya freeze up,” he shrugged, “it don’t matter. Ya got people back there now who will—will protect ya. S’okay.”

You met his eyes as they searched your face and you felt a jolt of electricity run up your back.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Gabriel called down to Eric at the gate. “It’s Daryl and Y/N! Open up!”

The sun was nearly gone and darkness was falling in the deep shadows beneath the trees, but you’d made it back, walking side by side, to Alexandria. Your pack was on your back again and your knife was in its sheath. Besides being filthy, no one would know what had happened outside the walls.

Carol was suddenly there, having climbed down the ladder and waited for the two of you to step through the gate. She was wringing her hands a little nervously. “Y/N—I’m so glad you’re okay. I’m sorry for what I—”

You gave her a small smile and interrupted. “It’s okay,” you said. “But—you should know that I do know how to fight.”

“She dun need lessons,” Daryl said. “Just ‘cause somebody don’t, doesn’t mean they can’t.”

Carol nodded, a little perplexed, and eyed the blood all over your clothes and noticed the clean bandage on your hand. “Are you alright?”

“Just need a few stitches and a shower,” you said with a nod. “I’m fine.”

“C’mon,” Daryl said, nudging his head in the direction of the clinic. The two of you started off again but Carol stopped Daryl again.

“Are we… okay?” she asked nervously. “I’m sorry that I assumed—”

He put a friendly hand on her shoulder and nodded, giving her that signature little Daryl smile. “We’re good. Forget it.”

Carol breathed a sigh of relief and her eyes flickered back to you waiting for him a short distance away. “What happened?”

Daryl shrugged. “Nothin’. She was just… killin’ walkers. See ya later.”

“Well, I‘m glad you found her. It’s almost dark,” Carol said. Daryl nodded. Carol returned his goodbye and watched the two of you fade down the street. All’s well that ends well, she thought. But she knew now there was much more to this story.

Daryl stayed with you while Denise stitched up your hand and made sure there would be no lasting damage, except maybe a bit of lost sensation on that area of your palm. You were ready to be home when she was finished and Daryl walked with you down the dark sidewalks and stopped alongside you at your front door. You turned and gave him a somewhat abashed, small smile. “Thank you. For coming after me today. I might still be in that shed if you hadn’t.”

He nodded. “‘Course. ‘M just glad that yer okay. I was—worried,” he drawled. That would didn’t even begin to encapsulate his feelings. He shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other, trying hard to ignore the fluttering sensation in his stomach.

Your top teeth dimpled into the softness of your full bottom lip and you considered him for a moment. “Did you, umm, want to come in? I need to grab a shower but then I suspect sleep may be hard to come by tonight.”

Did he want to come in? Fuck yes, he wanted to come in. He managed a nod and followed you inside, the sturdy door shutting out the night behind him.

Could something good really come out of so much fear and anxiety? It seemed, perhaps, that it could.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #daryl hurt/comfort #daryl angst

392 notes · View notes

ultr4vjolence · 5 months

Text

@ULTR4VJOLENCE MISC RECS .ᐟ

𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ AARON HOTCHNER

ᥫ᭡ a joyful future

a criminal minds big family!au where aaron gets the love and security he deserves.

ᥫ᭡ agents and asphodel

you hand in your resignation to the BAU.

there is no fanfare, no warning. one minute you’re there, and three weeks later, you’re gone, ousted at the insistence of strauss. but an unknown past holds the key to your personal horror story, one that you thought ended years before and is back with a vengeance — one set on taking you far, far away from the people you call your family.

ᥫ᭡ of terrible coffee and late-night rides

he watches you. maybe the two beers are going to his head, despite his infamous reputation as a heavyweight — all he knows is that his eyes follow as you slip through the crowds, sending beaming grins to some people you know from the office, and... you don’t know, do you? you don’t know how you make people feel. how you make every person you lay eyes on feel like they’re the only one you see; like they’re one in a million. important. you capture their attention with just one look and you keep it, too. you never go away — you burrow yourself into his brain and make a place for yourself there and—

their brains. that’s what he meant.

or: moments throughout your relationship with one aaron hotchner.

ᥫ᭡ moments

agent aaron hotchner, your boss, absolutely hated you. he was suspicious of your true intentions. but you were determined to prove yourself to him, no matter how long it took. or— the long, painful, winding road it takes for you and aaron to get your happily ever after.

ᥫ᭡ intelligence & issues

you’ve been working for the BAU for almost a year now. you know how you feel about your supervisor, but you also know it’s a lost cause. when the next case the BAU is assigned takes the team to your hometown, will it bring the two of you closer, or rip you apart for good?

ᥫ᭡ a hard day’s night

after graduation from the FBI Academy, all new agents go through a year of new agent training before becoming official agents of the bureau. by some stroke of luck, you get assigned to complete your training with the department you’ve always wanted to join— the behavioral analysis unit. you signed up for a year of profiling, case work, and catching serial killers, but you’re in for more than you could ever dream of…

ᥫ᭡ wanna be yours

professor hotchner’s criminal law class has a reputation. professor hotchner has a reputation. on your first day, you manage to draw his anger. he seems to hate you. what happens behind closed doors... that’s a different story.

ᥫ᭡ accidents

as the newest member of the BAU, you had nothing but professional respect for your boss, ssa aaron hotchner. sure, he was an attractive man, but your mind had never strayed even close to considering him as anything more than a capable and accomplished unit chief. this changes drastically through a series of “accidents” and in the end, there is nothing professional about your relationship anymore.

██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 20%

𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ SPENCER REID

ᥫ᭡ 3

is it okay to do wrong things for the right reasons? they say the road to hell is paved with good intentions (feat. unsub reader). this is not a love story. there will be no happy ending.

ᥫ᭡ phoenix

it’d been 10 weeks since spencer died in your arms. at least, that’s what you thought. (rewrite of the emily/doyle arc with spencer taking emily’s place)

ᥫ᭡ be a rebel, be bad, stay here and cuddle with me

“i love you, i love you,” he murmured between pecks. tangled in the sheets, his long arms still enveloped your form as he peeked up at the small clock on the bedside table behind you, a heavy sigh promptly escaping his lungs as he read the time, “but i really gotta get up and go to work…”

ᥫ᭡ here to misbehave

spencer spots you at a nightclub and quickly becomes smitten. only problem is he’s an FBI agent and you’re under 21.

ᥫ᭡ domesticity

reader gets worked up watching spencer with kids. he notices.

ᥫ᭡ santa’s gift

reader asks her husband what he wants for christmas.

ᥫ᭡ sunscreen & statistics

reader asks for spencer’s help putting on sunscreen (and washing it off after).

████▒▒▒▒▒▒ 40%

𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ AEGON II TARGARYEN

ᥫ᭡ when the world is crashing down

your family is house celtigar, one of rhaenyra’s wealthiest allies. in the aftermath of rook’s rest, aemond unknowingly conscripts you to save his brother’s life. now you are in the lair of the enemy, but your loyalties are quickly shifting…

ᥫ᭡ north to the future

the year is 1999. you are just beginning your veterinary practice in juneau, alaska. aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. you kind of hate him. you are also kind of obsessed with him. falling for him might legitimately ruin your life… but can you help it? oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the ‘ice fisher.’

█████▒▒▒▒▒ 50%

𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ AEMOND TARGARYEN

ᥫ᭡ the pawn in every lover’s game

when you’re ten, your father sends you to king’s landing to befriend a princess and woo a prince. a lioness growing up amongst dragons is a dangerous thing indeed.

ᥫ᭡ children of the empire

you are the eldest daughter of rhaenyra, princess of dragonstone, and twin to her heir, prince jacaerys. when your younger brother assails your uncle in a childhood squabble, your grandsire, the king viserys, offers your hand in marriage as payment for aemond’s lost eye. plighted in a match that is beheld by many and desired by none, you find yourself alone in a nest of vipers, forced to watch as your mother and the queen maneuver and vie for influence within the court and the realm. despite your youth, fears, and insecurity, you know you must apply your will and wits to one claim or another, but this choice becomes more and more difficult as you find yourself further entrenched within the family who would see your mother and siblings fed to the flames.

ᥫ᭡ studious

your marriage to the one-eyed prince is not as romantic as you hoped. the wedding night is beyond awkward and confusing, and afterward, your husband seems more than content to ignore you. but you keep finding yourself drawn to him, and the strange way he makes you feel.

ᥫ᭡ to make them love me (and make it seem effortless)

you clutch the collar of his shirt. “why do you want to marry me, aemond?”

he looks down at you, and his hands twitch by his sides, no doubt wanting to feel your warmth permeate through your clothes. he can feel your heart hammering underneath your ribs, and he’s sure that if you slide your hands lower, you could feel his racing similarly. your body melds so perfectly to his, and you breathe in sync, as if engaged in a dance of their own. every molecule of your body thrums to life underneath his fingers, every second that passes between you is charged with a tension that threatens to push the both of you over the precipice, and still you do not see.

he hates that, even with one eye, he does.

you await his answer with bated breath, but he sees the way your eyes briefly flicker down to his lips.

ᥫ᭡ take me to the lakes (where all the poets went to die)

you and prince aemond hadn’t seen each other for years since you left the red keep. now, you’re back.

ᥫ᭡ comet donati

sex, drugs, boy bands. you are a kinda-therapist recruited (via nepotism) to help comet donati through a recent crisis. things are casual with aegon, very not-casual with aemond. loosely inspired by one direction.

███████▒▒▒ 70%

𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ JOEL MILLER

ᥫ᭡ i know it when i see it

it’s the golden age of porn. sex and sin are the national pastime. you fled your suffocating small town to make dirty movies in the big city. you’re paired with joel miller for your first scene.

pornstar!joel miller AU

ᥫ᭡ allowed to be happy

while snowed in on a scouting mission, you tell dina the story of how you and joel met.

ᥫ᭡ mercy.

in a dog-eat-dog world of sliced throats and broken bones in exchange for primal survival, begging for mercy should have been the very last resort.

especially when a certain survivor was holding you at gunpoint.

ᥫ᭡ mr. rattlebone

settled in at jackson, joel and reader avoid their feelings for each other for their own safety.

ᥫ᭡ guard duty

guard duty was absolutely the worst, you thought to yourself with a bitter sense of resolution, but at least it meant some peace and quiet. the watchtower was set directly above the main entrance gate to jackson, a closed off wooden structure with stairs leading to the inside and an outer catwalk circulating it.

sometimes, the town could get on your nerves with how full of life and bustling it seemed to be; but you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. that sort of thing was a hidden oasis in a world like this, almost too good to be true, and you knew you were lucky to be part of it, even if it meant never ending guard duties at the early hours of morning, when the sun still wouldn’t be out for quite some time.

you sighed again.

“if you sigh one more time,” joel muttered in a monotonous voice, “i swear, i’m gonna throw you outta this window.”

ᥫ᭡ too early, too cold

early mornings are always slow, specially during winter.

█████████▒ 90%

𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ BELLAMY BLAKE

ᥫ᭡ sub rosa

it’s easy to think that you’re swimming in the sky. floating with the stars, weaving between them, part of the sky, the way you always dreamed you could be.

or, a clarke griffin!twin, bellamy blake x reader rewrite for the 100. complete.

ᥫ᭡ in this new light

slow, soft and sleepy morning sex.

ᥫ᭡ pretty fixation, wicked temptation

you and bellamy had spent a one-hundred-and-twenty-five years in cryosleep. a century of not touching each other catches up to both of you but finding somewhere to satiate your urges undisturbed is quite difficult. maybe a new planet will be just the place. but first, what’s a little challenge to heighten the tension?

██████████ 100%

A C C E S S G R A N T E D. . .

270 notes · View notes

justgivemeabookplease · 1 month

Text

Mind you I've only listened to the song once so this could be totally wrong in like a month when I've played it to death but I find Too Sweet really interesting for the Circle of Gluttony because I can't tell which person he's condemning.

On one hand, the narrator talks about sleeping late and partaking in simple pleasures that are not healthy for him. And we as a society tend to think of those consumptions as having bad morals: sleeping late is lazy, staying up late is irresponsible, drinking is sinful, and coffee at 3 am is unsafe. But he doesn't describe any signs of overindulging which is what gluttony is actually about. (“You don’t got to pretend, baby now and then don’t you just want to wake up dark as a lake…”)

On the other hand, the person being described as the opposite is very disciplined, very health-conscious, to the point of not letting themself "indulge" at all. This could be the overindulgence that gluttony criticizes, even though what they are indulging in is healthy and good for their body, it is too strict and therefore too "sweet" (as in pure). After all, "too" as an adverb makes the adjective excessive. Being too pure and being gluttonous for it feels very akin to "the road to hell is paved with good intentions."

It's not about whether the narrator deserves this partner, as TikTok was quick to attribute the song's meaning to. The partner is not too sweet in that the narrator is unable to enjoy the taste of them (as someone accustomed to a more bitter pallet like whiskey and black coffee would find it hard to eat something sweet). It's a question of which is worse: feeding the body or feeding the soul.

#hozier #wasteland baby #hozier album #unreal unearth #hozier music #andrew hozier byrne #eat your young ep #unheard ep #too sweet #unreal unearth unheard #hozier unheard #hozier unreal unearth

169 notes · View notes

beejunos · 16 days

Text

SINNERMAN | Alastor x f.reader | part 1.

Summary: After Sir Pentious's failed attempt at spying on the hotel, the Vees approach you to make a new deal—a deal that you can't refuse. Help them take down Alastor, and you will get to kill him again.

After all, the great butcher of New Orleans had killed your brother, so it was only fair that you had killed him in return. And you would love to do it again.

Tags: Alastor x f!reader, slow burn, obsessive behaviour, enemies to lovers, spying, murder

PART 1. | AO3 | PART 2.

Chapter 1. The Deal

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Hell was not just a place where souls who had done horrific things with pleasure went, but also with people who had done appalling things out of necessity. Murderers, thieves, abusers and, growing more in numbers every year, politicians - hell was not a place for the weak-minded, but sometimes a human could be pushed into such acts, not because they themselves were more inclined to such behaviour, but because circumstance could turn anyone into a bloodthirsty killer.

You were one of those people.

Condemned to Hell for an eternity for a crime that you still believed to be justifiable. After all, the great butcher of New Orleans killed your brother, so it was only fair that you killed him in return.

"I told you it was a bad idea to pick that idiot to spy on the hotel. Did you honestly think it would work?" said Velvet without looking up from her phone. She was typing something with rapid-fire as she blew a bubble with her pink gum. It made a big popping sound that seemed to echo in the living room, making Vox clench his fist so as not to destroy the desk again. They had just replaced the last desk after he had dug his claws into it and left deep and long marks in the wood, and he did not feel like getting yelled at again for ruining the decor.

Vox counted to ten slowly backwards before he turned around from the monitors to look at the short woman. She was sitting curled up on the sofa before him, dressed in luxurious loungewear with hearts all over it. Valentino was sitting stretched out right beside her, his arm casually on the backrest. He was on his phone as well and did not look up when Vox came closer, but Vox could see that he was also irritated by Velvet's comment from the slight twitching of his right eye.

"Well, Velvet, my dear," Vox said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I don't remember you having a better idea, but please, if you do, share it with the group."

Vox stopped walking as he reached the sofa, hands behind his back, and leaned down in front of the female sinner to force her to look at him. He had never been good with others ignoring him, and Velvet was taking her sweet time finishing her text before she even looked up from her phone. When she met his eyes, electricity was firing between his antennas, filling the air with static noise.

She just sighed before she picked up her phone again and started typing.

"You picked an idiot; that's why your plan didn't work. Little Miss Sunshine will believe anyone; just pick a smarter spy next time," said Velvet in her heavy British accent, popping another bubble with her gum. Vox's irritation grew with every word she uttered, and for a moment, he entertained the thought of grabbing her phone and throwing it out the window.

"And who do you suggest we'll ask?"

It took Velvet a few more seconds of searching before she found a decent photo, and then she turned her phone and showed Vox who she had in mind. The photo was old and blurry, with its subject in the distance, but it was still possible to distinguish who was in the picture. Vox turned his piercing gaze from Velvet down to her phone and quickly stepped back.

"You can't be serious!"

"Who?" said Valentino, now interested, as Vox started to pace the room. Velvet turned her phone towards the moth demon, and he reared back in alarm. "Are you out of your fucking mind? Do you even know how expensive she is?"

"So what? If you want the job done well, then pay a fucking professional," stated Velvet as if it was apparent.

"Professional? She runs a PR firm! Glorified party whores. Why the fuck should she be the spy?" cried Valentino, throwing his arms in the air. The gesture would have made anyone in his studio flinch, waiting for an impact, but Velvet sat rooted in her seat. She was used to the man's physical displays of anger by now but never feared them since he would never dare lay a hand on her. She lifted one of her eyebrows and continued with her argument:

"Didn't you see the fucking joke of an interview the princess did on the news? The hotel has a serious marketing problem. Everyone thinks it's a joke! What if the princess had someone to help her with the marketing and networking? Someone she would trust wholeheartedly, and that person worked secretly for us? It would be the best fucking spy! Not a guest but a staff member who could manipulate everything from the inside. We would know everything. A staff member would also be with the princess all the time and could keep an eye out for Alastor to make sure that no deal is made!"

Valentino groaned loudly before throwing his phone on the coffee table. He knew that Velvet's argument was good; he just did not like how expensive it would become if they went with it. There was a reason only the top of the elite of hell hired this PR firm, and it wasn't just for the public relations part. Rumours were travelling around the underground networks that you also dealt with some shady businesses, but who weren’t in this town?

"Can't we just kill them ourselves? I still want to shoot someone," mumbled Valentino, knowing none of his partners would accept the idea.

"And what? Piss of Lucifer for attacking his daughter? We could just piss on our own graves instead! If we pay her, we know she will get the job done; after all, you've heard the rumours, right?"

"What rumours?" snarled Valentino, sinking deeper into the sofa. His night was now officially ruined.

"No one hates Alastor more than she does."

"Well, that's not new! Half the city hates the old-timey prick." Vox, who had been pacing back and forth deep in his thoughts, abruptly stopped and turned around to look at Velvet. He also highly doubted anyone could hate the radio demon more than he did, but that was beside the point.

"So, let's use that to our advantage," said Velvet, growing more frustrated by the minute, "She is bound to at least be interested in the job if we can convince her to take down Alastor with us."

It wasn't a dumb idea, which annoyed Vox the most. However, his desire to take down Alastor outweighed any concerns for costs. He was prepared to cut his own leg off with a rusty saw if it meant he could take down the demon that plagued his very existence.

Vox sighed and crossed his arms in front of him, effectively giving up on arguing against Velvet.

"Okay, how do we contact her?"

On the opposite side of the entertainment district, where the Vees residence was located, was a small part of the pride ring where the older architecture still stood. The sinners who lived there were usually the ones who had stayed in hell the longest, many of whom had lived during the 18th and 19th centuries. There were fewer flashing lights and billboards in this part of town, but that did not mean that the sinners who lived there were anti-technology—for the most part.

That was why you liked living in this part of Pride, being from the early 20th century yourself. There were no loud noises, and during the night, you would, on more occasions than not, get a good night's sleep. Compared to the entertainment district, where no one seemed to sleep ever.

Your PR firm was located on the top floor of an old Gothic Revival building in the centre of this district. With its intricate stone details and towering spires, the building could feel almost cluttered and overwhelming on the outside. However, the rooms were spacious and elegant, with large stained-glass windows that cast colourful lights throughout the building.

You loved your office building and its moody exterior and interior. It made you feel like a character in one of the gothic novels that you had only learned to appreciate after your death. You could also argue that the whole thing had been influenced by the fact that when you had died and woken up in hell, your soul had taken the form of a bat. Reminding you of the book Dracula that your mother had loved so much, but that was irrelevant.

Walking around dusty old stone buildings, surrounding yourself with heavy wooden furniture and thick dark fabrics worked much better with the wings, big pointy ears, claws, and razor-sharp teeth you had now.

You had tried in the beginning to surround yourself with things that reminded you of the time you had been alive, but as time ticked on and the years went by, you could not help but leave most of the 20s and 30s behind and welcome the new ages, and all their inventions and quirks, with somewhat open arms. Your youngest assistant, a young sinner named Claudine, who died at the age of 25 in 2015, talked a lot about how similar social media in hell was to when she was alive, but considering the things she liked to show you, social media was one of the inventions you did not have any interests in. Your people could handle it for you instead, and if the three overlords that had strolled into your office like they owned the building were running the biggest tech and social media company in pride, you would happily leave that responsibility to Claudine.

Vox, Velvet, and Valentino were indeed a sight to behold. A poor sight for you. Their fashion and colourful clothing clashed horribly with your moss-green couch.

It was always a satisfying experience to observe new customers arrive at your office. However, this time, you could not help but wish they would just leave.

You put down the silver tray you held, with all the teacups and the teapot, on your mahogany coffee table and sat in the armchair on the opposite side of the sofa. Slowly, you started to pour the tea from the pot into the small and thin teacups before handing the first to Velvet.

"Suger?" you asked, opening the lid to the sugar bowl.

"Yes, please," she said, putting two sugar cubes in her tea. The smaller sinner grabbed one of the tiny spoons before she started to stir her tea, making the spoon hit the side of the teacup. The clinking sound seemed to bounce around the room endlessly. She may not have the most refined manners, according to you, but you suspected that she was the one who had wanted to see you in the first place since she was the one who was behaving the best.

"I must say, I was quite surprised when my assistant said that the Vees were waiting in my office." You took one sip of your tea that had one sugar cube and a dash of milk in it. "It is not often that I get these types of unplanned visits unless someone is in dire need of their reputation being saved, and last time I checked, you three had your own PR team."

"We are here because we are interested in your more niche skill sets."

Now, that was far more interesting. You had a sense that the Vees were not here for what your company offered on the outside but more for what you could provide that was strictly off the records.

You looked over at Vox, who had spoken. Waiting for him to continue.

It did not take the sinner long to tell you their plan and why they had decided to contact you specifically. Hell was filled with sinners and demons who said they specialised in espionage or assassinations, and although they could get the job done, more often than not, these "professionals" would leave long traces of evidence behind, which didn't matter in the end since hell did not have any justice system to speak of, but if you wanted to be undetected, it wasn't the best solution. However, you took your job seriously and worked with the utmost discretion, which led to you now holding almost the same amount of power as any overlord in pride. The big difference between you and the other overlords was that your capabilities were mostly unknown, and that's how you wanted it. It made it easier for you to work in the shadows. To hunt and kill without anyone knowing they were being hunted.

Only two overlords, Carmilla Carmine and Zestial, knew of your strengths and often hired you to deal with others they did not have time for or wanted to make time for. Yet, if the Vees knew about this side of your work, that meant the information about your skill sets was being spread around a bit more frequently than you wanted it. But that didn't worry you too much since you could always have Claudine and Earl fix it in just a few days.

"That is not a small task you have asked of me. To take down another demon is one thing, but to take down an overlord? Who also works for the princess? Now, why would I ever do that?"

"We're not asking you to take down the princess. Only Alastor," said Velvet, putting a hand on Vox's arm. The man had started leaning forward unconsciously, his fists closing up with every second.

Alastor. There was no man on earth or in hell that you hated more, and you would gladly watch him bleed to death, forgotten and alone in the forest again. After all, he had killed your brother, so it was only fair that you had killed him in return. But things had changed. He now possessed a form of power that you had never seen in another sinner in all your years in hell, and it made you pause. You knew that as soon as he found out what you had done, he would avenge his death, and you were not sure that you would survive that. So you stayed in the shadows, bidding your time.

"Either way, we are not asking you to take him down alone. We want you to ensure no deal is struck between that radio freak and the princess. Find his weaknesses and help us take him down." Vox had the sort of manic look about him that you only saw in souls who were consumed by their obsessions, making him unreliable and reckless. But a deal like this did not come to you often, the type of deal that made you believe that you could kill Alastor again, and you never looked a gift horse in the mouth.

"Very well, I will help you, but it will cost you. Five hundred souls."

"Dea-"

You did not let Vox finish before saying, "Each."

"Each? Bitch, are you out of your mind?" roared Valentino, who had been quiet up till now. Even if the other Vees did not start shouting like the moth daemon, they were equally shocked and angered by your demand.

"My prices have always been high. Take it or leave it." You looked over at Vox, staring him down. You knew he would be the first to crack and agree to your demands. Velvet may have been the driving force that had led the Vees to your office, but she was still too rational and would start to bargain with you. Vox would sooner or later let his obsession win, making him agree to your deal.

"Do we have a deal?" You reached out your hand to Vox, trying to corner him and push him into a contract with you.

Before Velvet or Valentino had the chance to stop him, Vox shot forward and took your hand, and as he uttered the words that would sign their contract, an eerie green light filled the room. Cracks travelled up the walls all around you as the howling of hunting dogs travelled with the wind that started to blow in the office. Large shadows of the hunting dogs began to grow on the walls, their red eyes fixing the Vees in their places and right as the dogs would pause and devour the sinners on your sofa, the green light dissolved, and all that was left was the four of you in your office.

"Always a pleasure doing business with new customers," you chuckled, letting your sinister smile dance on your lips.

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x you #x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x you #sinnerman alastor fic

136 notes · View notes

heich0e · 10 months

Text

[warning: while f!reader is not described with any specific physical characteristics, the child in this fic is described as having inherited all of Megumi’s attributes and none from reader! please read with that in mind, or pass over this fic if not <3]

Fushiguro Megumi is responsible.

He always has been, from a younger age than he ought to have needed to be. It's engrained in him now, as much a part of him as his own flesh and bone—if something falls within his scope of responsibility, he's always diligent about seeing it through.

Here's the thing about Megumi, though, the thing he doesn't even really know about himself: he's a perfectionist. Because of this, he doesn't like to be responsible for things—at least not things that he can't guarantee will be a success. Things that he knows he can execute perfectly.

But the road to hell is always paved with good intentions. Convictions, no matter how strongly-held, can accidentally falter.

Megumi has never wanted to be a father.

And maybe this all ties back to his unconscious need to do things perfectly. The pathological insistence he feels to do things all by himself, and do them right. He relies on his experience to achieve these things, and looking back on what little experience he has with fathers, he knows it's not enough—not sufficient—to properly prepare him for a similar undertaking.

And he's fine with that.

He's got enough on his hands anyway, first as a student putting himself through veterinary school, and then with the clinic he works at. The elderly vet he studied under, and who owned the clinic, retired just before Megumi turned 30, and having worked together for almost a decade—first as a part timer, then a tech, then an assistant, and finally a partner—the old man gave Megumi the option of buying the business and taking it on.

Always thought of ya like a son, the old man had said to him one evening after closing, having dragged Megumi to the izakaya down the road to get a drink. Megumi doesn't even really like drinking very much, especially when he was due back at the clinic at dawn, but he indulged the old man who ended up ruddy cheeked and tipsy about as quickly as Megumi expected, given past experience. The conversation had taken him by surprise when his mentor had announced his retirement. 'S only right I pass it on to you, if ya want it.

The offer made something uncomfortable squirm in Megumi's gut. His fear of change rearing its ugly head. His doubt that he was ready to take on such a huge responsibility. The uncomfortably foreignness of being called someone's son.

Just think about it, the old man slurred, immediately picking up on Megumi's hesitation. Yer still a young fella, Megumi, but ya won't be ferever. Gotta start thinkin' about yer future 'ventually. Settlin' down, findin' yourself a pretty girl, babies.

Ah, the future. Yet another thing Megumi hates, in all its unknowable infamy.

Megumi eventually helped the elderly vet into a taxi to get home, and then went back inside the izakaya to drown his sorrows—early shift be damned. His head was a mess, full of a terrible spiral of thoughts about his future that now looked so uncertain, and while the beer he was drinking certainly didn't help him make sense of them, he hoped, however briefly, it might help him to forget.

When Megumi woke the next morning to the alarm blaring from his cellphone, he had a splitting headache thanks to the beer and he was sleeping in the narrow entryway to his apartment with all his clothes (and his shoes) still on. But even in spite of all of that, and the smell of soap clinging to him that he didn't recognize, he felt lighter, somehow—surer about things.

The old man signed the business over to him a month later.

It's been four years since then, and while it hasn't been easy, Megumi's been taking responsibility just like he always has. He does what needs to be done to keep the lights on. He treats his staff well. He takes care of any animals that come through the clinic's door—no matter how dire, no matter how far gone, no matter how they get there.

Yuuji in particular takes advantage of this good nature—showing up frequently, sometimes even after all the other staff has gone home, with some woeful little creature he'd encountered. Sometimes it's a stray cat he'd been called at the fire station to help out of a tree, sometimes it's a dog that he'd found in the road on his drive home from work, or a little bird on the sidewalk. And he gives Megumi the same desperate look every time, the same beseeching eyes, and Megumi curses the fact that the two of them are the same when it comes to this particular responsibility—before letting him inside to examine the new patient.

It's pouring down rain one night, and Megumi has just sent everyone home for the day with a word of thanks for their hard work, when he thinks this very situation is about to repeat itself when he hears a frantic thump! thump! thump! against the glass of the clinic door. Megumi, in his office, pinches the bridge of his nose. He'd even turned the lights out in the lobby so that he could pretend he wasn't there. He knew Yuuji was on his way home from work based on the animated sticker he'd just sent him via text, before offering to pick up some beer and come over, but he hadn't replied—and certainly hadn't expected him to make it to the clinic so quickly.

Megumi sighs, pushing himself up from his desk and padding out in his slippers to the front of the clinic. It's dark out, and hard to see with no lights on in the lobby, but there's a little figure standing outside the rain-covered glass of the door. They appear to be trembling. Megumi pauses, confused, before fiddling with the lock and reaching over to flip on the light beside the door.

What he sees when the door slides open makes him freeze.

Before him is a little boy, no more than four or five, soaked through with rain and shivering in the cold. He has teary green eyes, black hair that's weighed down by the rain, and round, rosy cheeks. Megumi feels sick when he looks at him.

A mirror image of himself.

The man is so frightened that he doesn't even say anything, just stares in horror at the little boy trembling outside the door. Megumi's never heard of a ghost story like this, those were always Yuuji's thing, but that must be what this is. Some kind of spectral being who's shown up to—

A little hand reaches out and tugs on his pant leg.

"Please help me," the little boy says, his voice weak and thick with tears. "Mr. Vet, I need your help."

Megumi watches with wide eyes as the little boy opens his raincoat, revealing a small mass of fur tucked against his chest. A rabbit, Megumi surmises quickly, once he sees the ear; a bunny in fact, when taking into consideration its size. Megumi can't even tell if it's alive because the animal is so terribly still where it's cradled to the boys heart.

He feels another insistent tug at his pant leg, the boy's hand still firmly clutching it. He looks at the child, who seems more determined now, his tears still present but his gaze a little more resolute.

"So, can you help me?"

#megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #jjk drabble #jjk writing #writing #mini megumi #tw parenthood #tw pregnancy

538 notes · View notes

sadist1224 · 2 months

Text

A little Mafia!Price 18+

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part4 Everyday life

It's a little dirty towards the end!

Mafia!Price is the underground king of this city. Invisible, but alert and intimidating.

Mafia!Price, who takes care of his home, even if his ways are immoral and illegal. He had long ago realized that the road to hell was paved with good intentions, and his city, sinking and rotting from corruption, lies and violence, could only be saved by an iron and merciless grip.

Mafia!Price, who built his empire on the ruins of former mafia gangs.

Mafia!Price, who is covered in blood not to the elbows, but to the top of his head, to bring balance to his house.

Mafia!Price, who, despite all his strength, power and authority, has weaknesses. His named family are his boys, who went through all the bloody hell after him and never complained.

Mafia!Price, who is devoted to all of them, as well as they are to him.

Mafia!Price, who loves his boys, all of them, without exception, in a variety of ways.

Mafia!Price, who didn't even think about expanding his family until fate brought them together with you.

Mafia!Price, who watched with disbelief and curiosity as his Gas and Soap swirled around you, trying to get your attention. Oh, it's been so long since he's seen his boys in love.

Mafia!Price, who was surprised to find out that even a Ghost is attracted to you for some reason.

Mafia!Price, whom even the most influential and proud married women of the city will beg to warm his bed while their husbands work for him and for him, but ironically, the only woman he wants to see in his bed, between his boys, under them and on them is an ordinary barmaid who is not afraid to say everything she thinks to a man in person, even if he is the head of one of the most influential gangs in the city.

Mafia!Price, who has a private office with a gorgeous sturdy oak desk. And you will obviously find yourself in this room more than once. And for more than one reason.

Mafia!Price, who does not like to be distracted from work, especially from paperwork, as his stern, handsome face always says. But he doesn't really mind at all if it's you. Only you can break into his office with impunity without knocking, opening the door almost from your feet to definitely attract his attention.

Mafia!Price, who purposely does not take his head off the papers to annoy you, although in fact all his attention is focused on you, your disgruntled face and disheveled appearance.

Mafia!Price, who likes the way the edges of your shirt are slightly peeking out from under your belt, and your bangs are uneven, but so beautiful.

And while you're telling him in an angry manner that one of his small fry was seen again in the neutral zone extorting money from civilians!..

Mafia!Price, in his thoughts, is already pinning you to the table, wrapping his big hands around your hips, imagining what kind of underwear you're wearing today and how he will tear it off with his hands or teeth. He would then definitely buy you a new black lace, with thin ribbons wrapping around your waist and hips, even better if you chose it together.

Mafia!Price, who has already imagined a dozen ways to occupy your mouth instead of this useless conversation. He can shut you up with a rough kiss, pulling your hair back, opening your neck for love bites and hickeys. Or vice versa, to lure you with gentle kisses along the jaw, pressing you by the waist so close to his body that you feel warm and calm.

Mafia!Price, who gets goosebumps from your confused face and the sight of reddened lips.

Mafia!Price, who is thinking about how long it will take Gaz, Sope and Ghost to get to his office, and how much he will have time to do with you while they are walking.

Mafia!Price you're still here, still telling him off for not fulfilling the contract. And he doesn't like the way you present it. He's a man of his word, it's part of his reputation.

He just will never tell you that your "unexpected" appearances dilute his routine, and how much he likes it.

Mafia!Price, who pretends to sigh wearily and nervously, breaking out of his thoughts to give up on you and, reluctantly, drive you away from here. Oh no, you don't have to know how much you influence him.

Hell, he doesn't even know whether to nail these idiots for not following orders or throw in a bonus for another meeting with you. But he will have to deal with it if he wants his fantasies to come true.

111 notes · View notes

hood-ex · 6 months

Text

Wow, okay, I thought it was going to turn out that Zur was largely in control of Bruce's actions during Gotham War hence the whole Jason thing, but both Bruce and Zur confirmed Bruce's actions weren't Zur's doing.

DC cannot make him do something so incredibly unethical and then try to pass him off as this loving father who only wants what's best for Jason. I mean, sure, the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and Bruce obviously views what he did as an act of love, but if you play a card like that, you damn well better show the repercussions of it, which would be Jason cutting ties with Bruce completely and forever.

But nooo. You know what they made Jason do after all this? Offer Bruce emotional support after Selina "died." Get bent. They should've had Jason walk over to the pit looking distressed over Selina's fall, had Bruce try to put his hand on Jason's shoulder, and then had Jason smack Bruce's hand off with a, "Don't you ever touch me again you piece of shit."

Like fuck! Where's the lingering feeling of betrayal?! The lack of trust?! Don't give me this "you did a terrible thing to me, and I haven't had any time to process it, but I still care about you and love you, so I'm here for you" type of bullshit. Siiigh. I'm so tired.

#forget that post i made when batman 138 came out ASDLKAJ i thought this was gonna go in a very different direction #but uhh nope. they just decided to make bruce take away jason's agency and make it an actual choice bruce made himself #instead of y'know not character assassinating bruce entirely by passing the blame to zur #i mean idk dick babs and jason seem to think zur has infected bruce's brain and this is the result of that #so idk if they're gonna do some weird thing in the future where they do end up blaming zur for all of this #and it turns out that zur was indeed poisoning bruce all along #but uhh that's definitely not the conclusion we got at the end of this dumbass arc #Bruce Wayne #Jason Todd #Batman/Catwoman: The Gotham War: Scorched Earth

322 notes · View notes

tiny-elf-of-doom · 5 months

Text

Signs In Hell - Good Omens

Throughout the show, we see so many odd signs hung on the walls of Hell, but what do they actually say? Well, this post will tell you exactly that.

Cheer up! Remember - - The worst is yet to come!

For More Efficient Service just rip out your own throat with a stapler.

To Avoid Injury don’t tell me how to do my bloody job!

WE HATE YOU

The Devil Finds WORK FOR IDLE HANDS TO DO so LOOK BUSY!

THIS OFFICE has gone 3 days without anyone saying “The Road to Hell is Paved With Good Intentions.”

Clean up after yourself. Your mother doesn’t work here. YOU DON’T HAVE A MOTHER.

PLEASE do not LICK the WALLS.

Sourced from Good Omens Wiki

#Good omens #good omens fandom #good omens wiki #good omens season one #good omens season two #good omens hell #good omens demons #please don’t lick the walls #props #neil gaiman #terry pratchett #Crowley #Aziraphale #good omens canon

186 notes · View notes

daughterofcain-67 · 2 months

Text

𝙾𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝙾𝚞𝚛 𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎 (pt. 9)

(Soldier Boy x Female Reader)

(masterlist)

𝐬𝐮��𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Your main goal while you’re riding with Butcher is to make sure you can get Ben back no matter the cost. After getting to Grace Mallory’s last known residence, you hope you can find what you’re looking for. The sooner you’d find Ben, the better off you’ll be.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cannon level violence, nothing to explicit. Alternative ending to the final episode of season three in a way, or an alternative version of the aftermath rather. Hope you all enjoy!

You could hear the way Butcher was grumbling obscenities to himself all throughout the car ride to get to Grace Mallory’s home. You didn’t catch all of it but you knew Butcher wasn’t exactly thrilled to be going back to a place where he was unwelcome. It surprised you since you assumed he got used to the feeling of being unwelcome considering his record.

“You know, you aren’t the only one in the car. You sound like a psychopath talking to yourself when I’m right here.” You said as you continued to look out through the windshield.

“I just don’t get why you’re going through all this trouble for a guy who’s willing to kill children like Ryan just to get to his goal. What kind of heartless bastard is he?” He asked, glaring at the road and you shrugged a little.

“And you were completely fond of Ryan when you found out he was the spawn of your wife’s rape? A spawn of Homelander? Don’t tell me the thought hadn’t crossed your mind, so that argument is kind of unfair to Soldier Boy.” You commented and you heard Butcher continue to grumble.

“That’s a different bloody story. Becca didn’t ask for any of that shit to happen to her. She went missing for so many years and I had no fucking clue what happened to her. Hell, there were times I thought she was dead.”

“Soldier Boy is my Becca. You went a handful of years without her. I’ve gone decades without Soldier Boy. And he didn’t ask to be taken to Russia, didn’t ask to be robbed of the opportunity to raise his own son. Who knows, if Soldier Boy really did raise Homelander, maybe he wouldn’t have turned out to be such a dick.” You continued.

“I hardly think Soldier Boy is really as helpless as Becca was though.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.. Yeah he’s strong and for the most part he can take care of himself if you take the damned Novichok out of the equation. No, he’s not as helpless as your wife was. And I’m sorry for your loss and I hate to hear what happened to her. Maybe that wasn’t exactly the best example.”

“You think?” Butcher muttered as he started to turn on a certain road.

“Okay, okay. Bad analogy. Maybe it would be better like this… The same love Becca felt for you? The way she loved you is the love I feel for Soldier Boy.”

“Oh now you’re comparing me to Soldier Boy? Thanks, that’s such a bloody compliment to be compared to the cunt.” He said and you sighed.

“Well, all I’m saying neither of you are perfect. You both have your flaws. Like a shit ton of flaws and no one in their right mind should care for either of you. Both of you have blood on your hands whether you wanted it or not. But Becca accepted you, flaws and all. She knew you’re far from perfect and she wasn’t blind to the fact that you’re not exactly the greatest guy on the planet, but her love for you was still strong and unconditional. And I love Soldier Boy even with all of his flaws and mistakes.”

Butcher was silent for several moments while his gaze remained transfixed on the road ahead of the two of you. You turned your head and looked out of the passenger window.

“He really wasn’t a bad guy in the beginning. Arrogant, sure. But he never wanted innocent people to get hurt. He just got suckered into Vought’s trap like a lot of Supes do. They say the road to Hell is paved with good intentions after all. And after a while, I guess he, like most supes, lost a lot of their morals somewhere along the way…” You said.

“He was telling me about that. Just before we were on the way to fight Homelander.” Butcher finally spoke again.

“As much as I don’t like what Annie said about Soldier Boy, and as much as I think she grew a little bit self centered for it, I’m still glad she stepped away from Vought when she did.” You spoke as you remembered that Annie was still the one that gave you that unreleased photo of Soldier Boy.

“I can tell her heart is still in the right place, so there’s hope for her yet. She’s just got a bit of growing up to do.” At this, Butcher only hummed.

You sighed a little, ready to get out of the car. It felt like you had been driving for most of the day, but really it’s only been about two or three hours, “How much longer ‘till we get to Mallory’s?”

“Won’t be too much longer.” Butcher said, starting to get short again.

When you glanced over, you saw that he wasn’t in the right shape and you noticed that something seemed to be leaking from his ear. Your frowned a little.

“Is that from the temp V you’ve been taking?” You asked and pointed at your own ear.

Butcher glanced at you and he touched his own ear. He glanced down at his fingertips and muttered a curse as he wiped the residue on his pants. Lovely.

“Yeah.”

“You must’ve taken a lot of those doses, huh?” You asked.

“Eh, mistakes have been made. I’m just glad the Kid didn’t take anymore. It would’ve killed the little fella.” He insisted.

“So… what made you protect him? Isn’t that kind of out of your character?” You inquired, which caused him to shoot a glare at you.

“I’m not that bad of a guy either ya know. I’m doing this with the whole, Hell with good intentions thing you were talking about.” He commented as he looked back at the road.

“But anyway.. Hughie reminds me a lot of somebody I knew.” He finally answered your question after a few minutes. You smiled a little to yourself, knowing Butcher couldn’t have been that bad of a guy deep down.

“Friend?”

“Family member… brother.”

You frowned a little, getting the feeling from the way Butcher went stoic with his facial expressions that something bad must’ve happened. You glanced down at your hands, “I’m sorry.”

“Ain’t nothing to be sorry for. Only thing that can fix anything is a Time Machine at this point.” He told you, though the comment didn’t make the frown leave your face.

“So how long do you have left?” You asked, getting the feeling the temp V may just be costing the man his life.

“Doctor’s say I’ve got about 18 months, that’s if I’m lucky. Which so far in life, I haven’t been so lucky.”

“I’m sure Hughie may be able to help you find some kind of cure. Plus you’ve got Frenchie who’s apparently one Hell of a chemist.”

“I haven’t told the lot of them yet. And I don’t plan on it.”

“You know Hughie’s going to be crushed if you don’t say anything to him and he finds out some other way.” You reminded and Butcher shook his head.

“I got him wrapped up in this mess from the start. I’ve dragged all of them through the trenches, so most of them may even be glad to hear I’ll be dead and out of their lives for good.” Butcher said.

“That’s awfully pessimistic of you.” You replied and he gave a slight shrug.

“It’s the truth though. Not much helpin’ that one.”

You looked out of the window again when the conversation didn’t go any further. But then after a few minutes, the two of you made it to a house that must’ve been Mallory’s. Butcher pulled into the driveway and the both of you got out of the vehicle.

“Look’s like she’s not here.” Butcher said when he noticed there weren’t any vehicles, and he remembered this was the last place she was when she was still looking after Ryan.

“Still, she’s bound to have some sort of notes, maybe even a computer so we can look through her emails and see what we can find. If she’s not here, there are always other ways to find out where she’s keeping Soldier Boy.” You insisted, hearing Butcher sigh you walked up to the door.

You noticed there’s a padlock on the door and you lifted a brow as you tried to think of what sort of codes to try. As you started to press some of the buttons, you heard the shattering of glass. You stood upright and looked around, but the next thing you knew, Butcher was opening up the door from the inside so you could come in.

“You’re in a rush, right? Let’s get this over with. Pressing buttons and solving puzzles won’t get you anywhere fast.” He said and you smirked a little.

“Let’s see what we can find.”

Ben woke up yet again feeling drowsy as Hell. He honestly had no idea at this point how long it’s been since he’d been taken. He stopped counting the hours, especially since he couldn’t when he was blacked out some of the time because of the damned gas or whatever they were putting in him.

He felt drained, but at this point it wasn’t a new feeling. It was still a humiliating feeling though. When he finally opened his eyes again and glanced down ward, he saw someone was drawing blood from him. As much as he wanted to move his arm away, he couldn’t because they put more restraints on his arms as a precaution from last time he was able to get one of his arms free.

“What have the results been so far?” Ben could hear a familiar voice question.

He slowly looked over and saw Grace was standing behind the woman taking his blood. The bitch looked even worse up close. He couldn’t say anything though. Mask and all.

“Nothing. I’m getting to understand why the Russians just put him away. Pretty much nothing can kill him and we aren’t making much progress with finding any other weaknesses.”

“And you’re taking his blood, why?” Mallory inquired.

“We’re hoping to see what kind of genetic weaknesses he could have and we need his blood to do some tests for that.” The doctor said.

Ben winced when he felt yet another needle in his arm and he assumed they were taking more blood from him. He tried to jerk his arm away but that did nothing to help him.

“What other procedures will you be performing in the meantime while you wait for the blood tests?”

“We’ll be seeing different ways the Novichok and maybe some other vapors can effect him. Maybe we can use that to kill him rather than using the radiation like they did in Russia.”

That sounded like it would be a painfully slow process. All the Novichok did was make him feel sleepy, almost like an anesthetic. But if he were to die in his sleep, Ben supposed he’d take that over a painful and torturous death.

“You know, maybe we can save some of the blood. If we can use his genes, maybe we can make a different hero. One that’s better than Homelander. Raise him up to take Homelander down.” Mallory suggested.

“Work for us? They’d be labeled as just another super terrorist or supervillain or whatever the term is. Are you sure that would be a good idea?”

“If we can shut down Vought once and for all, then anything would be worth it.”

Ben couldn’t stand for it. He wouldn’t let his DNA be used for someone else’s experimentation. Especially not after the last child turned out to be such a damned disappointing excuse to be called his son. He wouldn’t let that happen again.

“No…” He managed to speak and Mallory looked over at him.

“No what? I don’t think you have much control over what we do here.”

“Do not.. make another kid. Not like that bitch Homelander…”

Mallory heard the comment coming from Soldier Boy. She was almost amazed that he could even gather up the consciousness to form a sentence with how much Novichok they were gassing him up with. She hoped he wasn’t growing some sort of immunity to it. That would be disastrous.

“Trust me, Soldier Boy… if we do find a way to make a child from your DNA, the last thing we want is another Homelander.” She said, but she could tell the thought wasn’t comforting to the fallen hero. Not that it was intended to be a comfort anyway.

“It won’t be like you or Homelander. Maybe it’ll be even stronger than Homelander’s so called son, Ryan.” Mallory shrugged and that was when her phone began to buzz.

She pulled her device from her pocket and looked down, realizing there was an alert from her last residence.

Her eyes widened when she saw the security footage. It was not only the familiar face of Butcher breaking one of her windows to get into her house, but he was working with none other than Quake.

Grace could see from the phone they were looking for something. When Grace watched you look through her office area and she saw you open up her laptop, her stomach dropped. She didn’t know how quickly you’d be able to find this lab, but Mallory knew it would only be a matter of time before you’d be on your way here.

“Keep him sedated.” Mallory said as she turned on her heel while she was about to walk out of the door.

“What’s happening? It’s not like he’s going anywhere.” The doctor said and Grace looked back at Soldier Boy.

Once they made eye contact, Ben knew something must’ve happened. He smirked when he saw a glimpse of weakness in Grace’s eyes, a glimpse of fear.

“We may need to move him. My last location’s been made.” Grace said and walked out of the room.

The smirk remained on Ben’s face as he looked back up at the ceiling. If his assumptions, his hopes even, were correct… you’d be there to get him out of this Hell-hole in no time.

You saw the information on the laptop screen and you smirked before you looked over at Butcher who was just looking over your shoulder.

“I take it you’ve found it?” He asked.

“Yep. Let’s head out. If I know Mallory and her security plans… she may already know we’ve been here.” You commented and wrote down the address. Then you folded the paper in your hand and stood upright.

“We need to move now before she tries to move Soldier Boy.” Butcher nodded before he turned on his heel and headed for the door that’s been left open.

With that, you and Butcher both left the house and rushed to the car because the two of you could hear sirens in the distance. Mallory must’ve sent some kind of security to her home or something because of the break in so now it was time to haul ass.

Neither of you really bothered to buckle up and Butcher started the car and drove off. Meanwhile you grabbed your phone and started typing in the address on the GPS so Butcher could head that way.

You could tell Butcher was speeding with how you felt like you were about to sink into the seat as he took off. The sirens were close for a moment but as Butcher drove the sirens started to sound like they were getting further and further away.

Once you put the location in the GPS and put the phone on the little phone stand, you looked in the passenger mirror, “Do you think we lost them?”

“Ain’t no tellin’ so we may have to take advantage of our other precautions… check the glovebox.” Butcher told you so you opened it up and saw a gun.

“Let’s hope we’ve lost them.” You said, not sure of your aim with a gun and if you could get their tires or if you’d end up missing them and hitting someone else. Boulders you could handle, guns? Not so much.

But unfortunately, you could hear the sirens again and they were gaining on you pretty fast. You looked in the passenger mirror again and you felt a little uneasy.

“Quake, you’re gonna have to use that bloody thing if they get any closer to us. And from the looks of it… they’re coming pretty quick.” Butcher said and you looked down at the gun in your hand.

“Aim for the tires and you should be fine..” You whispered to yourself and you made sure the safety was switched off and you carefully got out of the seat and tried to steady yourself, though it wasn’t so easy since the road was starting to get a little bumpy.

You leaned out of the window and faced behind you. Sure enough, some cars were gaining speed behind you. You tried to steady your breathing while you lifted the hand that was holding the gun and aimed forward for their tires.

You pulled the trigger the first time and flinched when you heard both the gunshot and the tire blow on the first car. Your eyes widened when you saw the first vehicle struggle to keep control and they went off the side of the road.

“And you thought your aiming was bad. Now knock the dust off those other cunts.” Butcher said from the driver’s seat and you nodded to yourself and you pulled the trigger again, then again, taking care of the other two cars. You saw as the front of the two cars met and you could tell they were totaled with the way the airbags went off.

You felt a hand at the back of your shirt to pull you back in, though you realized it was just Butcher. You thanked him and switched the safety back on the gun and put it back in the glovebox. You ran a hand through your hair before you glanced over to the phone, looking to see how long it would be until you’d get to your destination.

“You think Soldier Boy will still be there if Mallory knows we’re on the way?” You questioned, trying not to doubt now of all times.

Butcher shrugged, “We’ve already made it this far. We won’t know if he’s there until we get there.”

After about ten more minutes, you finally arrived at your destination. Butcher went for his little black bag and you knew the V was in it. You put a hand over his and he looked at you.

“What?”

“You’re already dying. Don’t make the process speed up. The only supe that’s in there is Soldier Boy and he’s incapacitated.” You said and you reached into the glove box and pulled the gun out.

“Stick around for Hughie for as long as you can.” He looked at you with an oddly soft look, uncharacteristic of him and you didn’t like it but you could tell he was at least trying to let your words set in. You knew he cared for Hughie a lot, and he was kind of the only voice of reason Butcher seemed to have. It kept Butcher human in a way.

But you couldn’t be sentimental much longer after that.

The both of you got out of the car and they already knew you were coming. Some of the guards were already holding up their weapons and you raised up your hands as a wall of rock and dirt appeared between you and Butcher and the guards. Then with a pushing motion, the wall you created plunged forward and knocked all of the guards down.

When that happened, you already started to feel a little lightheaded. You supposed you weren’t completely at full capacity after the incident at Vought’s tower. But you couldn’t focus on that right now. You had to get Ben out of there. The sooner, the better.

You lifted a boulder and you threw it into the door, breaking a gaping hole into the building and you and Butcher came in. Butcher started shooting at even more of the guards. It was nice to know that even if he didn’t have much of a choice in this matter, he still had your back to a certain extent.

When you caught a glimpse of some people rushing down the hall across your path and you had a feeling you ought to follow them. You bit down on your bottom lip before you started running into that direction.

“What’s happening?” You heard someone call.

“It’s Soldier Boy. He’s trying to break free again. He’s already snapped the leather straps on one of his arms again.”

“Who the hell was watching him?!”

You didn’t care to hear the rest of that conversation because you knew they’d try to get Ben back into that vault. So you followed them and you slammed your fist against the floor.

“W-What was that?!”

“Quake! She’s here!” One of the scientists said and when you looked up you saw the look of terror on their faces. You smirked a little before you put your hands in the crack in the floor you created before you pulled your hands apart, thus splitting the floor open and they fell into the hole. You left it opened so they could at least try to get out on their own.

Then you ran to the other end of the hall, desperately looking for any sign of Ben.

You could feel something tickling your nose and rolling down and as you ran, you lifted a hand to your nose and looked down. You noticed the blood. “Fuck, not now.”

You shook it off and you rubbed your nose before you continued running. That was when you ran past a window where a light was beginning to glow. You opened the door and you saw that some scientists were frantically trying to keep a mask over Ben.

“Ben!” You exclaimed and you caught a glimpse of his gaze. Your eyes locked and then you diverted your attention to the scientists who were working but some of them went to you and they were coming towards you.

They were trying to corner you and you glanced around to see what exactly you could do but then you saw a scalpel. You picked it up and you started stabbing the scientists. As they cried in pain while gripping their arms or sides, you lifted another hand and twisted your wrist a little to try and take a chunk of the wall closest to them and you pushed them out of the room.

The last two scientists that were once hovering over Ben were coming at you. But then your vision was starting to get blurry no matter how hard you were trying to focus as they were coming at you. One of them tackled you to the ground and you were trying to fight them off with the scalpel.

One of them managed to take the scalpel from you and they held it up against your throat but then before you knew it, they went flying somewhere and you thought you heard some kind of crash. Sounded like one of them landed on a table or something, but you couldn’t really be sure.

But when you looked up, you saw Ben was the one hovering over you.

“Y/N, come on. Wake up. You can’t black out now.” You could hear his voice, hearing a twinge of concern and you knew he was right. This wasn’t over yet.

You could tell from the slight strain in his voice he must’ve gone through some sort of Hell of his own these past couple of days. But you couldn’t focus on that right now. It was getting harder to focus on anything but you started to get up and you felt Ben’s hand grip your arm as he basically dragged you up from the ground.

“How are you feeling?” He asked you and you nodded your head slightly, not wanting to move it too much because you felt like your head would explode if you did.

“Fine. Let’s get out of here.” You said and as you were rubbing your eyes to try and get them to focus again, Ben must’ve taken one of the doctor’s scrub pants because when you opened your eyes again, he had a pair of those light blue pants on and some poor guy was sitting there with nothing to cover his lower half.

You and Ben rushed out of the room and you could hear some gunshots.

“Come on, we have to find Butcher.” You said.

“Wait, you brought that asshole with you?” Ben asked.

“Ben, I had to. He was the only one that I could get to tell me where Mallory lived so I could even find this place. Can we talk about that later?” You said.

The two of you began running and that was when you saw a glimpse of Mallory trying to get out of the building and you glared, “Oh Hell no.”

Just as she made it outside, you rushed outside as well. Then you lifted your hands and several boulders appeared from the ground and you used them to crush each and every car that the woman could have possibly used to escape. There were about six vans, three cars, and two cargo vans that must’ve been used for the equipment they used to torture Ben. Every one of them were nothing but useless car parts now.

You saw Grace look back at you before she tried to run off and you clenched your fist and pulled your hand to yourself. Just as you did, the earth rose up and grasped Grace before pulling her to yourself. You rotated your wrist and the earth moved to make the old woman face you.

“I thought of all people, you’d know how much Soldier Boy meant to me. You even worked with me to bring Vought down just to prove they were the ones behind his whole so called death charade. To think you’d be one of the ones that would try to take him from me again.” You said and Mallory looked at you.

When we figured out what we needed to, we would have given him up.” Mallory said and you scoffed.

“If it were up to you, you would have given me a rotting carcass.” You continued.

“How far did you get, huh? What exactly have you found?” You asked and she shook her head.

“I haven’t found anything other than the Novichok because of Frenchie.” She said and you glared as you tightened your fist, causing the earth to act as an iron maiden, threatening to pierce the old woman’s body.

“I swear! Radiation does nothing but strengthen his energy blasts. Vapors just act as an anesthetic to keep him stabilized. That’s all I know.”

“Good… that’s the last thing you’ll ever find out about him.” You promised and with a snap of your fingers, the spikes went through Mallory’s body. She didn’t even have the chance to scream before the life left her eyes.

When you released the earth’s grip on her body, she plopped to the ground almost like a sack of potatoes. She was nothing but a bloody mess with holes in her clothes where her wounds were.

“Y/N! What did you do?!” Butcher called out.

When you turned around, you saw both Ben and Butcher walking forward. But everything that’s happened in the last several moments took a lot from you. The blurriness returned and that was the last you remembered.

Ben’s eyes widened when he saw you start to fall and he started running to you.

“Fucking Hell.” Ben said as he caught you just in time, knowing you must’ve overdone it. Your recovery time must’ve gotten longer since the tower. This whole rescue thing didn’t help at all.

“She bloody killed Mallory!” Butcher exclaimed and Ben glared.

“Like you’ve never killed anyone before.” Ben reminded.

Ben noticed Butcher went over to the woman and watched as Butcher sighed a little.

“She was ready to see her family though. She’d been ready for a long time.” Butcher said and Ben just let out a hum, not really interested as he looked down at you.

He put his hand on the pile point in your neck and let out a breath of relief. Then, Ben looked over at the building that had kept him the past several days. He carefully laid you down on the ground for a moment before he focused his energy to his center again. Afterwards, the next thing he knew there was another explosion and the building and everything inside was destroyed.

“You’ve gotten better at that, haven’t you?” Butcher said and Ben looked over at the man in the coat.

“I guess.” He said before Ben turned his attention back to you. He knelt down at your side before he took you into his arms again and he stood up. He felt the way your body leaned into his chest and he was honestly glad you found him. But he needed to get you some place safe so you could recover.

“You think she’ll be alright?” Butcher asked as he walked over but Ben could sense the sort of caution Butcher had.

“You know I’m not a ticking time bomb, right? Yeah, she’ll be okay. Just need to get her somewhere safe so she could rest up.” Ben said.

Butcher rubbed the back of his neck. A part of him didn’t want to help Soldier Boy since he would have killed Ryan if he had the chance, but aside from the threat you made, you were alright for a supe he supposed. You weren’t his favorite person in the world, but you did promise to keep Soldier Boy accountable and you said you’d stay away from everyone’s families if you got Soldier Boy back.

“Come on… I know a thing or two about stealing cars. I’ll give you a card and you can get her to a hotel to rest up.” Butcher said.

Ben looked up at Butcher, almost wondering if this was some kind of joke or if this was some trick. Could you blame him for being hesitant when the man turned on him back in the tower?

“Why? I didn’t kill Homelander and Y/N killed your little friend.” Ben said.

“If she can keep somebody like you in line when you can’t be killed, then we need her around. The world does. Just don’t let anyone here catch you around. Especially MM. He still wants to kill you.” Butcher said.

“Now are you coming or not?”

Ben was still skeptical about this whole thing, but he knew he didn’t have any other choice. So he nodded and he carried you out to Butcher’s car and the three of you rode somewhere to try and steal someone’s car from some gas station or something.

Ben was sitting down beside you on the bed while you rested. By that time, Ben had already used the card to buy himself some clothes so he wasn’t wandering around in scrub pants. He was wearing some t-shirt and some sweatpants and he had some socks on his feet.

Other than that, he hadn’t left your side. He wanted to make sure he was there for you whenever you’d wake up. Although he knew it may take a little longer than he wanted to. Still, it had been several hours since the both of you left Mallory’s little lab or whatever. It couldn’t be too much longer now, could it?

He gazed at your figure and he reached out to brush a stray hair away from your face. Then he moved to reach for the remote on the night stand so there would be some kind of background noise rather than the silence.

Ben looked over at the television and noticed some trailers for some new movies were out. He rolled his eyes a little. There were times where he got really tired of seeing supe movies. So Ben used the remote to try and find something worth watching. Then he saw a black and white film, something that took him back in time.

He recognized Clark Gable and Doris Day on the screen and it made him smile when he was able to at least recognize those faces, even if they weren’t exactly his favorite actors. The movie was apparently called Teacher’s Pet when he saw the title on the screen before it flashed away.

Ben started growing a little more interested in the old movie, there was something about it that felt more familiar to him. Maybe it was because it was something from a familiar time.

“You know, I loved Clark Gable back in the day.” Ben heard a familiar voice say and when he looked down, he saw your beautifully colored eyes opened and on the screen.

He smiled as he turned the volume down since the television switched to some adds now and he turned to face you, “You’re awake.”

“How long was I ou-“ He interrupted you with a kiss, unable to wait any longer.

He could hear you chuckling against his mouth and he slowly pulled away and he looked down at you, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing…. I’m just glad to see you too.” He heard you say and he grinned before he cupped your face in the palm of his hand.

“You over did yourself again.” Ben stated.

“Twice.” You answered.

“I know. You wanna tell me about the tower?” He asked and you shook your head a little.

“Not much to tell. You went out the window, I went to panic mode that switched to some kind of rage mode. I’m surprised I was awake right after. I looked for you but realized I hat to run. Found some abandoned building to crash in and I crashed there for a while. The first two days I felt like I’d puke if I even thought about standing. By day three I was able to at least walk.” You said and Ben sighed.

“You really shouldn’t use your powers for a while.”

“Since when did you become a doctor?” He heard you ask and he saw your smile.

“I’d make a pretty shit doctor. But I’d rather not watch you black out again.” He admitted and you nodded before he felt you move closer to him, so Ben wrapped an arm around your smaller frame.

“What about you? How are you feeling?” Ben heard you question and he smiled a little. But then he remembered some pain killers or whatever other kind of drugs Butcher handed him before he went back to his little group.

“I’m fine. A hell of a lot better now that I’m away from that place. But here, take this. Butcher said it’s supposed to help with whatever migraine you might get.” He said and handed you some water and a couple of pills.

He watched you sit up and you took the pills before you started drinking some water.

“How long have I been out?” You finally asked him and Ben shrugged a little.

“Several hours.”

“So… what do we do from here?” He heard you ask and he chuckled a little.

“I thought you would have thought about it a little more. What’s the situation with your house? Couldn’t we just go back there?” Ben asked but then he watched you shake your head.

“No, Vought got to it and destroyed pretty much everything. Honestly, I think our best bet may be leaving the country.” You admitted and Ben frowned at that idea.

“You really think we have to go to that extreme? Mallory remained off the radar for several years and so did you, and you were able to stay in the states.” Ben stated, you hummed a little.

“Yeah, but I’m not sure if I can go into hiding again so soon. Who knows if Vought has people all over the country looking for me. Maybe even you if word were to get out that you’re alive.” You said.

“You act like Vought’s got a shit ton of snipers crawling all over the place.” Ben sighed and you shrugged.

“Who knows… you never know what Vought has up their sleeves. And I really don’t want to stick around and find out.” You said.

“If we’re out of the country for at least a year, maybe two. That way Vought thinks we’re out of the picture and it opens some sort of door for us to come back. You know they’re all about their fake deaths for supes they lose or force into retirement. Until then, maybe we can travel. It could be really fun.” You continued.

“Traveling.. might sound alright for a while. At least until things quiet down a bit. People already think I’m dead because of Vought I’m sure.” Ben commented and he watched you nod, confirming his statement.

“So where do you think we should go first?” You asked and Ben felt you place a hand on his own, causing him to grin as he intertwined your fingers.

“As long as we aren’t in Russia, I’ll be happy.” Ben reminded.

“Well, I kind of figured that would be a given… what about Ireland?” You suggested and Ben thought about it for a moment.

“You know what? I think that sounds like a great idea.”

Ben watched the way you smiled softly and he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your forehead while you snuggled closer to him. He looked down at you, loving the fact that you were in his arms again.

“Thank you.. for coming and saving me.” He whispered and you hummed softly.

“Ben, that’s not anything to thank me for. When you love someone, you’d do anything to make sure they’re safe. I lost you once when you went out of the country, then again at Vought when Queen Maeve pushed you out of that window. I couldn’t lose you again after I just got you back.” You insisted.

Ben’s gaze softened. If he wasn’t mistaken, that may have even been the first time you said you loved him, even if it was in some sort of descriptive way. He knew you loved him based on the letters you’ve written him over the years, but he’s never heard you actually say it.

“God, you’re nothing like Crimson Countess, are you?” Ben chuckled and you rolled your eyes.

“I don’t think I could hate you nearly as much as she did.” You replied, he hummed as he looked down at you, observing your features.

“My world would crumble if you hated me half as much as she did. Then it would completely disappear if anything were to happen to you, if I lost you.” He admitted.

There was a change in the dynamic between the two of you in that moment, a shift in the atmosphere in a way. It was something the two of you hadn’t been able to sit and relish in ever since he came back. The two of you had been so preoccupied with his mission of killing the members of Payback, then the Homelander fiasco, then you rescuing him from Mallory’s lab.

“You know… when I woke up and heard the TV… a part of me wondered if everything that’s happened this past week and a half has been a dream.” You admitted.

“How do you mean?” Ben said gently.

“I mean… You’ve been gone for so long… I spent years in my house writing all of those letters. I’ve spent countless nights dreaming of what it would be like if you were to come back. This whole endeavor… A part of me thought after Mallory’s lab, that was just the end of another dream. A part of me wonders if I’ll ever get over the surrealism.”

Ben chuckled, “You really must’ve worn yourself out if you’re still thinking it was all a dream after this whole time.”

“Well, Ben… why don’t you show me how real all of this is?” You asked him, then a smirk started to appear on Ben’s face.

“With pleasure.” Ben said as he leaned down for a kiss. A kiss that would surely take your breath away and show you that this was reality. That this would be your new reality for the rest of your life and that you’d never lose him again.

After so many decades of being away from Ben, you knew what it was like to wander the earth as if you’d lost your other half. You knew how it felt to be so alone for so many years. You’ve felt out of place for so long but with Ben in your grasp again, you felt whole, complete. It was a happiness you hadn’t felt in so long and you were glad you finally had the man you loved beside you again and you couldn’t wait to see how the next several decades would treat the both of you.

It would certainly be an adventure, one you were more than eager to share with Ben for the rest of your life.

Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373 @nancymcl @jackles010378 @hobby27 @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @prettyinplaid94 @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @capricxnt @k-slla @david-tennant-obsessed-blog @deangirl96 @mimaria420 @ashdoctor @muhahaha303 @angelbabyyy99

#jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy jensen #soldier boy x you #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy the boys #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy ff #soldier boy fic #soldier boy x reader #the boys ff #jensen the boys #amazon the boys #the boys #the boys amazon #jensen ackles the boys

83 notes · View notes