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zoegmiller · 7 years

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Fire Emblem Fates - Hanabi

This (nsfw!) work was created as part of the Fire Emblem Femsplash exchange as a gift for @peeta-arts

“Again, she heard the sound, scraping at the carriage roof. Srrrkt. Srrrkt. Srrrkt.”

Hoshido was uncommonly hot during the first summer festival following the war’s end, but, despite the ill climate, the spirit of celebration abounded. Children of Hoshido and Nohr frolicked together through mazes of festival stalls and paper streamers, partaking in games of chance and skill, sharing festive treats both savory and sweet. Some of the bolder Nohrians even had a go at donning the traditional festival yukatas.

Indeed, armistice is a time for reconciliation. Thus, with this noble endeavor in mind, far above the festival proper, in a secluded copse of trees near castle Hoshido, Camilla, the eldest princess of Nohr, had decided to show her new Hoshidan allies how Nohr once celebrated their solstice.

Camilla’s deep voice cut the humid air with ominous intent as she continued her story. “The words of her love resounded in her head, ‘wait here, I’ll be back soon’ and left her paralyzed. And always, from the carriage roof. Srrrkt. Srrrkt. Srrkt. Was it a branch, she wondered?”

Ophelia clasped both hands over her agape mouth, scooting a bit closer to Soleil on their shared log.

“Or a squirrel, she thought, scratching at the carriage fixtures for bedding to steal away for its nest. Surely nothing more than that...”

Ignatius gripped Forrest’s hand a little tighter.

“Yet still, as the hours passed, the sound became her only companion in the darkness. With every billow of the wind, it returned. Srrrkt... Srrrkt... Srrrkt…” Camilla twined a curl of lavender hair around her finger, looking skyward. The lapping flames of the bonfire lent a menacing cast to her scarlet eyes. “She began to fear that her lady love might…”

The swaying branches of the trees encroached upon the gathering like a shroud of grasping claws. An audible gulp came from Siegbert and Shiro’s corner of the fire.

“Of course not! It couldn’t be!” Camilla dismissed the possibility before she offered it. She leaned forward, tenting her gloved fingers before her. “But curiosity battled with fear in her quavering stomach, and still her lady love had yet to return. Perhaps she was lost upon the road, or hurt and in a terrible need. Thus, she summoned all the bravery of her small form, threw open the carriage door, and strode boldly out into the dawn. With that, the clank of metal…”

Selkie squatted atop her log like a rapacious gargoyle, the rapt flicking of her ears devouring every foreboding word.

“It was a crude metal hook, shaken loose from the door handle. But our pitiable princess took no notice of this fearsome instrument, barbed and bloodied though it was…”

Velouria seemed more interested in stripping fistfuls of grass from the patch of ground between her boots, until an instructive elbow from Nina beside her refocused her attention.

“Throwing her gaze to the tree above, a truly shocking sight consumed her. Dawn was breaking, the culmination of this long, terrible night, and so, with the sun cresting the horizon, she absorbed, in bold detail, a face, bloodied and mangled. It wasn’t so. It couldn’t be. And yet, faced with that a terrible visage, she—”

A sudden shriek rang out so loud it shook the trees.

“Let out a sound rather like that, I suppose.” A canny smile tented Camilla’s lips. “Hinoka, darling, if you wanted to play a role, you only had to ask.”

The elder princess of Hoshido ducked her head, potently aware that a dozen sets of eyes were now focused on her. “I-I didn’t…”

“Are you quite all right?” Camilla asked, voice honeyed with exacerbated with hyperbolic concern. “Why, you’re pale as a ghost!”

Hinoka bridled her burgeoning embarrassment with a stern pinch of her lips. “My color is i-is none of your concern.”

“Regardless, I’m not sure young Setsuna appreciates you digging your claws into her flesh.”

At that, Hinoka abruptly abated her vice-like grip from her retainer’s arm.

“Oh, I don’t mind…” Setsuna unconsciously shook her now-free arm, paying no mind to the purpled welts Hinoka’s fearful clench had scored into her pale skin. Her lethargic eyes were more focused than they had been in months. “Lady Camilla, what did she see in the tree?”

“Ah yes, as I was saying.” Camilla’s voice sunk an octave. “It was a truly shocking sight. A terrible visage, that awful, grisly affair. For, looking up into the skeletal tree than loomed above her carriage, she saw none other than the gristly, mutilated face of—“

“Yes!” Hinoka sat bolt upright. “What was that, Corrin? I’ll be right there!”

Teetering at the edge of Camilla’s cliffhanger, the assemblage of army brats hardly noticed as Hinoka sprinted off into the trees as fast as the strict ties of her yukata would allow.

The air was cooler in the darkened castle halls. Standing on the garden terrace outside her bed chambers, Hinoka allowed herself a few minutes to recompose herself, swiping sweat from her brow and syncing her tremulous breathing to the calming clack of the garden’s bamboo fountain. There now, she was fine. Why, she hardly thought at all about what might be lurking around the worrying bend of the hallway off towards her sibling’s chambers, where a sconce had long-since guttered out, and trickling darkness spread gloom along the thin, paper walls.

Where were those servants, anyway? Festival or no, all these lamps should’ve been lit and stayed lit!

“Hinoka, dear! Where have you gotten off to?”

With the echo of Camilla’s voice down the terrace, Hinoka shrunk against the wall, gaining a new appreciation for those sinister shadows, now that she so direly wished to vanish into them.

“There you are!” Camilla let out a petulant huff. “Did you plan on whiling the night away in some darkened garden? You’ll miss the fireworks.”

“Oh, damn the fireworks. I’m not a child, to be wowed by…“ Hinoka balled her fists at her side, presenting a staunch offense—though in truth, it was more to stop their damnable shaking. “It’s just… it’s just too oppressively hot for such foolishness. Fireworks, honestly! And a bonfire, in the middle of summer? And you… you…”

“My, my.” Camilla closed the distance between them with casual grace, her sandals drawing not even a creak from the floorboards. “Did my story scare you? I had no idea my dashing Hoshidan princess was so… sensitive.”

“Of course not.” Hinoka furrowed her nose. The lilac of Camilla’s sweet perfume was dizzying. Camilla was dangerous in her proximity. Hinoka floundered, struggling for her bearings, and applied a straightening jerk to her rumpled yukata. “As if such a thing…”

Camilla cupped Hinoka’s cheek. “I’m sorry, darling.”

With a soft hmph, Hinoka looked away. “I’ve spent too much of my life seeing such things already.”

A knowing nod from Camilla. “We all have.”

Hinoka swallowed, and in the time that bought her, she steeled herself to say.

“But… it was kind of exciting.” She coughed. “Being scared I mean.”

“Oh ho, she does have a curious side.” Capricious smile. Bold with frightful delights. “Do you want to hear how it ends, then?”

“No.” Her face burned like a thousand suns. The reverberations of Camilla’s story, the vulnerability, the testing, languid, drawn-out nature of the fear… Hinoka shivered down to her toes. “I’m… quite all right, being left in suspense…”

Camilla’s fingernails raked along Hinoka’s arms, flirting over sensitive skin through the sheer, summery cotton of her yukata. “I quite agree. Sometimes, letting those feelings build up and up and up, anticipating the moment they overwhelm you in full… that’s half the fun, isn’t it?”

“Stop.” Hinoka giggled at the ticklish scrape of Camilla’s fingers, her hips shifting this way and that, her hands atop Camilla’s only ostensibly dissuading these curious touches. “Besides, someone might see.”

“Who might? Your family? Your servants? They’re all out watching the fireworks…” A pause for thought. “Unless…”

Hinoka’s jaw went slack, as her gaze drowned in the performative purse of Camilla’s full lips. The gears of her mind cranked slowly. Someone could come, someone could see! Takumi, bored of the festivities, cloistering himself off in a remote patio to train. Fastidious servants, sneaking away from the fireworks to clear away dishes from the feast, or to take a well-earned nip from the sake stashes in the cool basement, or, possibly, to relight these damned lamps. She could imagine such a slew of mental possibilities! Camilla’s toying touch along the curve of her stomach was making such mental auditing… somewhat difficult.

“Unless?” Hinoka throat bobbed, a querulous swallow.

“Srrrkt, srrrkt.” Camilla’s finger roved tauntingly up and down Hinoka’s sides, applying a curious scrape in time with each threatening sound. “Srrrkt, srrrkt.” The bite of her nails. “It’s coming to get you, dear.”

Hinoka struggled to restrain the nervous energy threatening to boil over within her. The sound locked her spine. Skin went clammy, and her heart staggered into a staccato beat with the memory of fireside fear. Hinoka’s toes curled against the rough grain of her sandals.

“What are you talking about?” Even this silly game forced her heart to pounding, and swelled her head with nervous energy. Every inch of her skin was alive, alight. Camilla’s searching fingers swept over her small breasts with the tickle of her yukata’s soft cotton, and Hinoka realized the abject sensitivity of her nipples. Tension somehow both diminished and engorged inside her with the same, tremulous shudder. She struggled to play along. “Who is?”

“The monsters, of course.”

Ugh, this woman! Hinoka tilted her head away, blushing. She centered herself, biting down on the inside of her cheek. “What monsters?”

“Me.” Camilla said, darting in for a kiss.

Hinoka groaned against the kiss as much as she did Camilla’s inane little tease. The anxiety tickled the seams of her stomach to bursting like a legion of fretful butterflies. She wasn’t some foolish country girl or love-struck adolescent. She was a princess of Hoshido! And she knew that Camilla wouldn’t tease half as much if she didn’t respond as she did…

Yet, there was such thrill in Camilla’s touch, and, far different from the menacing campfire stories that terrified Hinoka all the way back to her bedcovers in her youth, there was always a sear of power in Camilla’s words. How long had she craved someone like Camilla? Someone who knew how to act, how to pose, how to move and how to move others. Camilla was taller than her, bolder than her, and knowing exactly how long to let a moment linger. Didn’t she want to bury herself within in that strength? Didn’t she want to drown in those scarlet eyes—filled with knowing, with precision, with confident zeal and easy affection. Camilla spoke so freely, acted as if on whims. So casual, so calculated.

She accepted the kiss. Moreover, she met it boldly.

Camilla’s fingers trailed over Hinoka’s ear, to tangle in her short hair. “But you do forgive me for giving you a fright, don’t you, darling?”

Hinoka’s eyes went half-lidded and glassy at Camilla’s touch. Her heart surged in her chest—not too different, she thought, than her scare at the bonfire. “Depends.”

“On?”

“On…” Her tongue slipped between her lips, moistening them. She felt like an utter fool, a fake, a farce, making a show of it. She did it anyway. She deepened her voice—resenting its natural, high-pitched creak—straining to descend to Camilla’s octave. “What you do to make it up to me.”

Camilla’s eyelids fluttered with the sudden, claiming advance of Hinoka’s sweet tongue. A shared moan volleyed between their clasping lips. Camilla’s deft hands moved with sensual measure, working loose the sash of Hinoka’s yukata.

A rush of cool night air swept over the light patina of sweat coating Hinoka’s skin. The hum of the cicadas filled the air in the garden. Her body awoke in the darkness.

“Camilla.” Hinoka gasped. flinched, twisting her head to the side, her neck locking. Her cheek pressed against the wall. The sweat of her skin stained the paper wall of her bedchamber. “Someone really could come.”

Their embrace deepened. Camilla’s breasts were heavy atop her shape, as if they alone could pin her. The twist of Hinoka’s neck left her dangerously exposed. A thump, as Camilla’s palm impacted the wall beside her shirking head. “Oh, I very much suspect someone will.”

Hinoka hated how she’d say those things; wordplay and puns and subtly unsubtle innuendo. Rove of hands over her bared flesh. Teeth found her earlobe, striking down sharply, and Hinoka cried out with fatuous need.

Camilla’s fingers stroked against the hard resistance of bone between her breasts. They descended in exacting waltz over her bare stomach, shuddering with uneven breath. Weighty tears of worry and excitement shuddered in the corners of Hinoka’s eyes. Camilla’s touch journeyed over the hard lines of her hips. She struggled to blink away the wetness, to see her love more clearly, head thrashing to the side, cheek meeting Camilla’s bracing arm with a meaty thwack of skin. Camilla sighed, thrilling at the suspense of her finger’s careful dance. through the thatch of her pubic hair, toying and teasing and tugging at the wiry red curls. Hinoka groaned, gripping a hand around Camilla’s neck, mutely pleading for support, as her legs shook like fresh festival mochi.

A volley of fireworks broke the sky, lighting the terrace with fire bursts of dazzling indigo and vermillion radiance, deepening the shadows around them.

Hinoka’s seizing fingers reined Camilla’s hair with a death grip. She cared not for the exposure. She cared not for anything but this moment. Swept up in this tizzied fervor, wet tears of raw emotion spilled down her cheeks. She sniffled until it pained her, clogged her sinuses and blotted out her thoughts until nothing remained but the purity of animal instinct. The stoke of flesh and ardor. The humid air that clung like sodden weight inside her lungs, forcing struggled breaths. Her body was over-hot, blistering, searing, scorching, with nowhere to vent but into the one before her.

Camilla bore it with precision. As her fingers pressed into her lover, so too did her hips, trapping her arm between their shaking bodies. The impact of Camilla’s form slammed Hinoka back against the wooden ceiling beam. Camilla’s tongue flirted and flitted along the curve of Hinoka’s ear, slickening it with their shared passion. Her free hand groped around Hinoka’s buttocks, nails dug deep, drawing her forward, guiding her path, making obvious this route for Hinoka steaming lust to escape.

Hinoka’s croaking breaths of uncorked passion shook the walls in time as carefully-timed combinations of fireworks—violet, azure, crimson—reverberated against one of another, shattering the dark and starry sky, soaring towards crescendo.

Her hips ground, groping with her body, scraping her mound against the willing resistance of Camilla’s palm. Her eyes narrowed to slits and her breath had no escape but in pinched, bleated whistle through her flaring nose. Her jaw trembled, jigged. She yelped like a startled animal, when Camilla drove another finger into her roiling sex.

Her body clenched with ready want. Her legs buckled. A bestial groan escaped her. Her hands were feeble, useless, pawing at any bit of Camilla they could touch, they could claim, gripping around cheeks, around elbow, around shoulder, into hair. Begging with her eyes, and with the wordless quiver of her parted laps. Please. Please. Please.

“Like that, darling.” The fireworks kept the confidence of Camilla’s whispered words, meant to be shared with one, and one alone. “Just like that.”

Camilla’s eyes claimed hers, the penultimate moment of this impromptu dance, as she drove her fingers to the apex, curled them outward within her love, and squeezed.

Eruption overcame Hinoka like a sudden shock. Her hair bristled. She consigned her worries, her wants, her recalcitrance and her desires to blissful, orgasmic oblivion. Unburdened by shame or fear, she cried out, nails furrowing into Camilla’s scalp, the concussive barrage of the fireworks at full climax masking the hoarse cries of her pleasure.

…to all but the woman before her, of course…

But even as the cannon fire helpfully concealed the screams of Hinoka’s release, the prismatic bursts of color that lit the hallway blistering as broad daylight on the battlefield, exposing them to any who’d care to look.

Fortunately, both those of Hoshido and Nohr had more a mind for fireworks, and less for the spying on impromptu lovers’ trysts.

The final shrieking whistles filtered through the leaves of the shaking tries, and the muggy air of castle grounds was silent once more, but for Hinoka’s wheezing.

Pants of effort spilled from Camilla as she collapsed into her love. Hinoka’s quaking arms drew her into a feeble embrace, and Camilla drowsily watched the final few smoky fronds of the fireworks dissapate into nothing, enjoying the fuzzy, auric emanations of Hinoka’s release that lapped like lazy waves over her senses. Soon, only the great, overwhelming blackness of the night sky remained. “Ah poo,” she said. “We missed all the fireworks.”

Hinoka flushed, the gentle fry of her voice all the worse due to her pounding heart, and painful worry over this public exposure. Drawing herself from out of the blissful abyss of her orgasm, she at least developed enough presence of mind to release her death grip on Camilla’s hair. “N-not all the fireworks.”

“Darling!” It wasn’t much of a wordplay, but Camilla knew that no flower grew without encouragement. “We’ll make a proper flirt of you yet!” With a nuzzle of her nose through Hinoka’s hair, and a rather chaste kiss atop her head, Camilla sealed the act of her contrition, and spoke in sotto voce. “Am I forgiven, truly?”

“Hush. I’ve said so twice already.” Though Hinoka yearned for nothing more than shirk all social obligations and drag her betrothed into bed and fall into a deadened oblivion of sleep, pillowed against her ample, generous body. But, though the aftershocks of her ad hoc climax still wracked her, Hinoka thought it prudent to at least suggest the option… “S-should we rejoin the festivities, then?”

A bit of a purr swept through Camilla, as Hinoka’s trembling fingers brushed along her scalp, straightening her hopelessly mussed hair. “I’d recommend against it. Believe me, dear, they’d smell you coming a league away.”

Hinoka glanced down the corridor. Her heart was still, and she was invincible—come what ghosts, what monsters, what murderers of ladies fair might lurk in the flickering shadows cast by lamplight. “Hush, I said.”

Camilla lightly brushed her clothing back into place. At her full height, she fairly loomed over Hinoka, placing a hand at the wall beside Hinoka’s head, and taking Hinoka’s hand with her other. She spoke tenderly, granting permission as only a princess can, and speaking the words Hinoka kept locked inside her head, for fear of disappointing Camilla, and her social proclivities. “Let’s have a bath and slip beneath the covers.” A playful, cat-like cruelty filtered through her doting gaze. “I’ve intentions to draw at least one more burst of “fireworks” from you before the night is through…”

And once more, for good measure:

“Hush, I said…”

Washed clean and smelling of almond and soap, Hinoka stared at the ceiling as Camilla ruffled her hair dry with a soft towel. She cleaved to the droning hum of the cicadas. The bawdy, brazen fireworks had passed, and now, albeit cautiously, the insects reclaimed their ownership of the night. The festivities showed no signs of stopping. Here and there were the sounds of revelry, as the younger family members chased each other up and down the halls, ebullient, shrieking and giggling, bounding after one another and hurling together, collapsing into uncoordinated heaps, overcome by the thrill of the evening and feigning drunkenness off of the small, ceremonial sips of rice wine they were allowed—it was a special occasion, after all.

Camilla’s bare skin was as satin against Hinoka’s back. The scars upon her fingers were gentle and smooth as she offered her tender ministrations to her lover, tracing her touch along Hinoka’s hips and flowing atop the slow rise and fall of her stomach with her breathing.

A crash of an overturned vase out in the hall. “Soleil, pick that up!” Ophelia ordered. “Make me!” came the retort, cut short by a cavalier giggle.

A sigh escaped Hinoka. “I can’t remember a time when I was ever like that.”

“Like what?”

Hinoka rolled over, pillowing her head in her arms. “Carefree? Unencumbered? Unafraid?”

Camilla melded to her. Hinoka shivered at the too-warm mingle of their bodies in the oppressive heat of this long night. “We weren’t so they could be.”

Despite sticky discomfort of their cooling bodies, Hinoka stroked her finger along the arm Camilla settled around her stomach, just above a ragged scar, a memory of battle recent enough that it still ached—in her heart, if not to the touch. “I suppose that means something.”

The stampeding of bare feet, and the boisterous shrieks of young love, receded into the distance as the Soleil and Ophelia enacted a raucous get away from the scene of their crime.

Camilla drew her closer, their bodies slotted together like puzzle pieces scored and shaped. Her blissfully soft hair danced against Hinoka’s face, and each word came with the brush of lips over Hinoka’s shoulder. “Is my sweet little princess envious of their unfettered youth?”

“Absolutely not.” Craning her neck, Hinoka took in Camilla’s features. The clever scarlet of eyes, the capricious smile encumbered at its corners by the exhaustion of a long, event-filled day. “If an easier youth meant a void of you, I’d shun that risk in a heartbeat.”

“The feeling, my dear, is mutual.”

Hinoka tucked her arm over her eyes, shielding herself from flicker of the bedside lamp. “Besides, I’m too tired for envy. Let the young have their fun, they’ve earned it.”

“Rightly said.” Camilla dipped finger and thumb between her lips. With the rustle of covers, and the slip of skin over skin, she leaned for the night stand and snuffed out the light. “Let’s have a rest, we’ve more than our share of obligations in the morning.”

Camilla was atop her, leg hooked around knee, breasts folding over hers, sharing warmth, and kindness, and all the things Hinoka never thought to need, until this woman, not so long ago, had granted them to her as easily as one shares a spare loaf of bread.

“Let’s,” she said.

“Let’s,” Camilla replied.

Hinoka marveled at this saintly woman above her, touching fingers to her soft cheeks as if in reverence, and taking the loose coils of her hair to set them right behind her ears, as if these meager efforts could improve a face already perfect. When Camilla smiled at her in that deep, quiet dark, she felt she could sink eternally into the welcome softness bedding, be swallowed up by it, consumed by the security, sanctity, and love of this woman.

“Oh, and darling?” Camilla said. Her eyes shone with innocent, guileless affection in the dark as she took one of Hinoka’s rough hands in both of hers. “Could you do your lady love one small favor before we both collapse?”

Hinoka’s eyes adjusted slowly to the dim moonlight. Perhaps that was why, drinking deep of Camilla’s winsome features, she missed the ulterior intent of the cat-like smile spreading across in her lips. “Anything.”

“Do check to make sure there’s no hook-handed fiends lurking under our bed.”

In that deep, dark, and fearsome night, Hinoka’s groan of abject worry shook the foundations of Castle Hoshido itself.

#FEfemsplash #caminoka #camilla (fire emblem)#Hinoka (Fire Emblem)#fire emblem fanfic

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katymacsupernatural · 7 years

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No Such Thing as a Happy Ending

Dean x Reader

3300 Words

Written in Third Person (1st time I’ve ever done it that way, so hope it doesn’t suck!)

Warnings: Angst, mentions of torture and violence.

Story Summary: Dean is captured by Demons, along with a woman(the reader). Being drawn to her instantly, he tries everything to keep her safe, only to face heartbreak later on.

Written for @nichelle-my-belle 4K Angst Challenge. My prompt was: He didn’t even know her name, yet he felt sorry for her, for the pain she was going to live through.

Three days. That’s how long Dean had been down in this hell hole. He knew he really wasn’t in Hell, for there was no smell of brimstone, and he could just make out the light of the sun peaking through the boarded up window on the far side of the room he was being held in.

This hunt had started out easy enough. He and Sam had driven in to town, checking into one of the shabby motels they usually inhabited. After questioning the local authority and the medical examiner, they knew exactly what they were dealing with, Demons. Then it came the matter of finding the Demon’s hiding place. While Sam had been researching like crazy, Dean had needed a break. Leaving to find dinner for the two of them, he never made it back to the motel. As he climbed out of the Impala, something heavy hit the back of his head, knocking him to the ground, his body growing lax as he fell unconscious.

Waking up, Dean found himself in this cold room, a cell of cement with one boarded up window. Chained to a heavy metal chair, his legs and arms both wrapped tightly with no give at all. Hours passed before his captors came, evil grins on their faces and a tool chest in their hands.

“The famous Dean Winchester.” The ring leader, a man he came to know as Dageus, said in a rough accent as he rubbed his hands together. “We are going to have so much fun together.”

Their fun came in the form of torture. With knives, pliers, even a torch, they tortured Dean each day, to the point of unconsciousness. With blood pooling around him, his head would rest against the wall, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of his screams. Staying silent as they inflicted their pain, Dean’s eyes would stare hatefully into their pitch black ones, letting them know he would kill them the second he became free.

“You know your brother isn’t coming to save you. It’s just you and us now. And we have plenty of revenge to exact. All of our brothers and sisters you’ve killed or tortured for your own gain. It’s time you felt what they did.” Dageus threatened before slamming the knife down into Dean’s thigh. Closing his eyes, Dean bit his lip so hard it bled, but still, he refused to make a sound.

Frustrated, they left, finally leaving him to his own misery. Soon, the little sliver of sun left, leaving him in pitch black, and he wondered how much longer he would survive in here. He had faith in Sam, but he didn’t want Sam risking his own life to save his. He had prayed to Cas, letting the Angel know he was alive, praying for him to help Sam find him, but Dean wasn’t sure if Cas was even able to hear his prayers this time.

After the third day, Dean heard the door open, his mind fuzzy from lack of nutrition and blood. Blinking his blood crusted eyes open, he watched in horror as they brought in a beautiful woman, her body laying limply in their arms as they carried her to the set of chains on the wall across from his. “We brought you company.” Dageus explained happily, as they tossed her to the ground before chaining her up. Her h/c hair was in tangles, her face pale with a vivid purple bruises forming on her jaw. Otherwise she was untouched, not yet having been attacked by the brutal Demons.

“Why do you keep doing this?” Dean muttered, still pulling hard on his restraints, wanting nothing more than to kill the Demons and rescue the poor innocent girl.

“Because Hell is in chaos, and we’re bored. Happening upon you was just icing on the cake. And now you get to watch us tear this girl apart.” Dageus goaded, his hand running through the girl’s hair, and Dean wanted nothing more than to tear the Demon’s hand off. “Soon.” Dageus wickedly promised the girl, before locking the door behind him, leaving the two of you in pitch black darkness.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, waiting for her to wake up, needing to stay calm for her. He didn’t even know her name, yet he felt sorry for her, for the pain she was going to live through. For he knew they wouldn’t go easy on her, that they would no doubt torture her to get to him. That thought killed Dean, and he hoped his brother would hurry up and arrive, rescuing them both.

What seemed like hours later, with the sun barely starting to shine through the slit in the window, he noticed the fact that she started to come to, her body shivering in the cold air of the room. He watched her carefully, knowing she might panic as soon as she came to, and he wanted to try and calm her down before she pulled too hard on her restraints and hurt herself.

Dean didn’t get the chance to help her like he wanted. As soon as he started to speak, hoping she would understand and calm down, Dageus was back, heading straight for her while his minions went to the hellish toy chest. “Finally.” Dageus exclaimed, grabbing her hair and pulling her face up. With the lights on in the room, Dean could tell her eyes were a beautiful e/c shade, her pupils wide with terror.

“No, you Son of a Bitch! Leave her alone!” Dean exclaimed, his wrists turning bloody and raw as he pulled against the chains holding him to the chair.

“Finally. He speaks.” Dageus remarked as he pulled the frightened woman to her feet. “I knew bringing in another person would break that tough exterior of yours.”

“Fine. I’ll speak. Just torture me, not her.” Dean pleaded, and for a second he thought he had won. With a chuckle, Dageus reared back his fist, smashing it into the soft skin of her belly, and Dean cringed at the mangled cry that left her lips.

“Damn it!” He yelled, wishing he could do something to help the poor nameless girl. Again and again Dageus brought his fist down, ignoring the knives held out to him as he pounded on the girl. Her cries turned to moans, and she tried to cover her body, trying to get away from the brutal attack but it was useless.

After what seemed like forever, Dageus left along with his henchmen, and Dean turned his attention back to the girl who lay panting on the ground, obviously in pain.

“Shh, I know it hurts.” Dean tried calming her, not knowing what to do too much in a situation like this. “Don’t worry. My brother is on the way. He’ll be rescuing us soon.”

“Your brother?” She muttered through her split lip, her voice as smooth as honey. “Why hasn’t he come for you yet?”

“He’s still trying to find out where I am. But he will come, I know it. And he will save the both of us.” Dean promised the girl, who shivered as she curled into a ball on the ground.

“I’m Dean.” He informed her, trying to take her mind off of the pain she had to be going through.

“Y/N.” She replied softly, her head lulling back as her strength waned.

“Beautiful name.” Dean whispered, but she was already asleep and he sat there, his body sore and battered, but his heart a little lighter as he stared down at the strong beautiful woman in front of him.

________________________________________

The next day brought much of the same. Dageus was gleeful, positively cheerful that he now had two victim’s to torture, moving back and forth, slicing and dicing both of you. It wasn’t just the pain that was hard to deal with. The worst part for Dean were the games Dageus seemed to enjoy playing. Holding a knife to Y/N’s neck as she pleaded, her eyes on him while Dageus promised to spare her if Dean begged.

Dean could count the number of times he begged on one hand, and they usually all pertained to his brother Sam. But with Y/N’s beautiful eyes pleading with him, he couldn’t help but beg to save her, to torture him instead. She held some sort of hold on him, and he would gladly take the pain to spare her.

Each and every time Dean begged, Dageus would take a step towards Dean, removing the knife from her neck. With a devious glint in his eyes, Dageus would nod, letting one of his minions take another knife to her, while Dageus slashed Dean at the same time.

Soon the two of you were covered in blood, your bodies weary and beyond sore. Pausing for a break, Dageus left the room, promising to return with new toys to try out. Hearing sobbing coming from Y/N, Dean felt useless, unable to do the one thing he was good at. Saving the damsel in distress, killing the monsters. Yet here he was, watching as Y/N lay bleeding and broken on the ground, the Monsters running wicked and free. It was infuriating, and Dean banged his head against the wall, needing to find a way to save her, and himself, before Dageus could do anymore danger.

“Dean, please. I need you to do something for me. If you make it out of here and I don’t.” She pleaded through blue tinged lips.

“No, we are not going to do this!” Dean heard himself yelling her way. “We are both going to get out of here, I promise you.”

“But I’m so cold.” She chattered. “And I feel so weak, so tired.”

“Y/N, you can’t sleep.” Dean ordered, knowing they had bashed her head at least twice and he was worried about a concussion.

“So tired.” She whispered again, and Dean cursed as her eyelids closed and her body relaxed on the floor.

He was weary too, his body much weaker than he would care to admit. His eyes grew heavy and leaning his head back, he kept whispering over and over that help would come, that he would get Y/N out of this mess if it was the last thing he did.

Grunts and screams filled his ears, waking him up for his exhausted slumber, his neck popping in pain as he straightened his head. Glancing down at Y/N, his heart stopped for a moment when he noticed she was still out cold even with the loud noise coming from outside their door. It was when he noticed the slight rise of her chest he let himself relax, waiting to see what was happening.

More screams filled the silence before the door was shoved open and a bloody and sweaty Sam filled the doorway, his chest heaving from exertion. “Dean!” He exclaimed, rushing forward but a quick shake of Dean’s head had him stopping in his tracks.

“Her first. Save her.” Dean prodded, pointing his head over to the unconscious Y/N laying on the ground. Nodding quickly, Sam moved, kneeling down and undoing the chains with the keys he had taken from Dageus. Leaving her laying on the ground, Sam came over, unlocking the chains around Dean’s ankles and wrists. Without the support of the chains holding him up, Dean almost fell, if it wasn’t for Sam reaching out and catching him.

Just then Cas came in, a bloody Angel Blade in his hand as he surveyed the small room. “They are all taken care of.” He announced.

Leaning down, Sam helped Dean to his feet, moving to leave the room. “No, not until she’s taken care of.” Dean pleaded, and Cas strode over, leaning down and picking her up gingerly in his arms. Making sure Cas went first, Dean limped along, using Sam to support most of his weight.

“Took you guys long enough.” Dean muttered as Cas pushed the door open, the bright sunlight blinding to Dean’s eyes.

“They were well hidden. It was only when Cas showed up that we could find out where they had taken you.” Sam explained, as the Impala came into sight.

“Thank god.” Dean exclaimed, running his hand along the smooth exterior of the car. “I was afraid I might never see you again Baby.”

Sliding stiffly into the backseat, Dean motioned for Cas to slide Y/N in with him. Letting her head rest against his lap, Dean stared down at her, seeing her truly for the first time. She was beautiful, even with the gashes and marks along her pale skin. Skin that was probably vibrant and beautiful was pale from blood loss, dirty and covered in blood. Her eyelashes were dark and long against her cheeks, but he couldn’t wait until she stared up at him with her e/c eyes once again.

“Dean, maybe we should drop her off at the local hospital.” Sam suggested as he drove away.

“No. She stays with us. Cas can heal her.” Dean ordered, and Cas looked into the backseat, studying Dean carefully.

“Dean, I am still weak. I can heal only one of you right now. She needs to be dropped off at the hospital.” He explained, but Dean wasn’t having any of it. He needed to know that she was safe, and cared for, and he didn’t trust the hospital. He trusted Cas.

“Heal her. I will live.” Dean argued, and the ride turned silent, neither man wanting to argue with Dean when he was that set in his decision.

It was about a thirty minute ride to the motel, and a couple of times Dean felt himself start to nod off, only to wake up to make sure he didn’t startle Y/N. During the entire ride she didn’t move, and Dean was starting to worry that they may be too late. As soon as they arrived, Dean made Cas carry her inside, while he hobbled along behind.

Almost falling into the first chair he came across, Dean waited impatiently for Cas to begin. “Please Cas. She’s been unconscious for hours now.”

“Dean, please reconsider. You are hurt, you need my help.” Cas tried arguing, but Dean would have none of it.

“No. Heal her.” Dean ordered once again, and with a startled look to Sam, Cas leaned down, pressing two fingers to Y/N’s cheek. As he worked, Sam came to stand next to his brother, his hand a comfort on Dean’s shoulder.

“Dean, why is she so important to you?” Sam asked quietly as the bruises and cuts began to fade away, her skin returning to her natural shade.

“I don’t know.” Dean admitted. “As soon as they brought her in, I felt drawn to her. It killed me that I wasn’t able to protect her, that I had to watch her suffer at the hands of those Demons.”

“Come, let’s try to clean you up.” Sam suggested, leading a weary Dean into the bathroom. As Sam worked on stitching Dean up, Dean made sure he could see the beds, wanting to be there when she awoke.

Much later, after his cuts had been clean and stitched, Dean lounged on the bed, staying close to her side, waiting for her to wake. Sam and Cas had left, going back to burn the building, wanting to make sure nothing was left for the Demons to return. Dean continued to watch her sleep, wanting nothing more than to run his hand down her smooth cheek, to learn everything about her.

It was only seconds later he noticed her eyelids fluttering, as she slowly came to. He watched as her gaze fluttered around the room before landing on Dean. “Dean?” She whispered, her voice still smooth and sweet, music to his ears.

“We’re free. The bad guys are dead, and we are safe.” Dean assured her, helping her to a sitting position, wincing as the movement jarred his sore body.

“This isn’t a dream? We’re truly safe?” She muttered, before a smile broke out on her face. “But my body. It doesn’t hurt anymore. The cuts are gone!”

“I have a friend who helped.” Dean answered staying vague so he didn’t upset her anymore than needed.

“Thank you so much.” She exclaimed, before frowning. “But Dean, I need your help.”

Grasping her hand, Dean nodded, ready to give her anything she asked for. He wasn’t expecting her next words however, and Dean felt his whole world shatter in an instant.

“My husband. He has to be so worried. Can you take me to him? I feel horrible asking because you’ve done so much, but I need to see him!”

In an instant Dean felt himself doing what he did best. Shutting himself back in, putting on a fake smile, pretending everything was okay. Even though inside he was shouting at himself for being so stupid. For thinking that for once something would go his way, that maybe he could get the girl. “Of course. Let’s go.”

Standing up on shaky legs, Dean waited for her to climb out of bed, giving her his arm for support. Making their way outside, Dean was grateful Sam and Cas had taken Cas’ car, leaving the Impala behind. Pulling the spare key from the fender, Dean started the car, his face a mask as he pulled out of the parking lot, following her directions towards the middle of town.

Glancing over occasionally, he watched as a tirade of emotions crossed her face. Worry and relief, hope that her family was still okay. He wished for a moment that those emotions were for him, that she was rushing to return home to him. It was foolish, but he still felt drawn to her, wishing they could have met under different circumstances.

The drive wasn’t long enough, and soon Dean was pulling up to a nice suburban home. Parking outside, Dean said quietly and calmly. “There you go, home at last.” Keeping his gaze on his hands, and not on the beautiful woman next to him, knowing if he glanced into her sparkling eyes, he might admit to things he would regret later.

“Thank you Dean.” She told him softly, reaching over and grasping his hand with hers. Her lips ghosted across his cheek, before she slid out of the car, rushing up the sidewalk throwing open the front door to her house. Forcing himself to watch, Dean saw her through the front window, a tall, handsome man with dark hair throwing his arms around her, holding her tight. Wishing it was him, Dean tortured himself more, watching as she stood on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to her husbands, threading her fingers through his hair.

With a groan, Dean started the Impala, gunning it down the road, and out of the subdivision. Slamming his hand against the steering wheel, he finally allowed his mask to break, letting a single tear slip down his cheek at the thought of what could have been.

By the time he returned to the motel room, Sam and Cas were back, waiting for him with questioning gazes. “She’s home now.” Dean announced, walking straight over to his bag, pulling out a bottle of whiskey. Downing a big gulp, Dean let the warm liquid burn down his throat, the burning a welcome relief to the pain his heart was filling.

“Dean, what happened?” Sam asked, noticing how quiet and reserved his brother was being. Even more so than normal.

Dean downed another shot before answering his brother. “She woke up, needing to get back to her husband, so I took her. That’s it.”

Laying down on the bed, Dean took another sip, wanting nothing more than for the alcohol to erase the memories of the e/c eyed girl that had easily stolen into his life before leaving him with a gaping hole in his heart.

Tags: @nichelle-my-belle, @generalgoldfishldrm, @nerdybookwormsinger, @yaya-snowflakes

#nichelle’s 4k angst challenge #deanwinchesterxreader #dean winchester fanfiction #angst #dean winchester angst

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