#and i stared into empty space in grief for a long long time

[icysnails]

Hello. I was wondering if you could you write a platonic angst story where the reader is Blade's child. I was thinking that because Blade barely spends any time with the reader unless it's during one of their extremely harsh training sessions the reader decides to run away especially after one particularly rough training session where the reader was injured after they accidentally talked back and that night the reader starts packing their stuff but they accidentally left behind their late mother's pendant and Blade found it the next morning. (I hope you're okay with writing this and I wish you a good morning, afternoon or good night ☺️)

Family.

A/n: Hello Anon!! Thank you for your request!! I am so sorry this took so long- school + extracurriculars started so I had way less time to work on writing outside of school (TvT) But this was so much fun to write! I got a little bit carried away and it ended up being a found family type thing with all of the Stellaron Hunters– I tried to focus on Blade being a father figure as much as possible though! I hope you have a fantastic day, and I hope you enjoy!! ૮꒰ ˶• v •˶꒱ა ♡

Warnings: all relationships are platonic, found family trope, betrayal, suicidal ideation (Blade), mentions of death, reader's parents are dead, flashbacks, reader runs away, mention of bullets + broken glass, overthinking, Blade being insecure, reader uses a sword, reader gets injured a couple of times (If i forgot anything, please let me know!!)

Genre: angst, slight fluff

Pairing: father figure!Blade x gn!child!reader (PLATONIC), mother figure!Kafka x gn!child!reader (PLATONIC), sister figure!Silver Wolf x gn!child!reader (PLATONIC)

Word count: 7.3k

Blade is a cruel man. 

There is no love in the red pools of his irises, no signs of any humanity. Dark circles adorn the skin just below his merciless stare, eyebrows slightly furrowed in an eternal state of aggravation. It was no wonder enemies cowered at the mere mention of him. He holds nothing back, and if an enemy was unfortunate enough to meet the steely edge of his sword, they were sure to be broken and lifeless by the end of the encounter. Unfortunately, he isn’t much different off of the battlefield either. 

Blade is bitter and selfish and cold, to the extreme that even Kafka and Silverwolf are convinced that he has forgotten how to feel.

The thorns of the mara in his veins torment him constantly, the pain never faltering, even after decades. The other Stellaron Hunters had begun to wonder if those thorny, agonizing vines had punctured through his heart as well. It would be understandable, to an extent. After all, he is a man who has experienced endless with suffering and loss, his mind poisoned with grief and the sole desire to die. No more pain, no more fighting, just darkness- the mere thought was enough to drag a bitter smile out of him.

He was used to the dark, used to feeling like an empty vessel. 

But why, if he was so familiar with agony, would he impose that same feeling on you as well? 

You had always been alone. You were only a toddler when your parents were taken from you, the only proof of their existence being a necklace your mother left with you before she died. You had spent your youngest years void of any parental guidance, hopelessly wandering between foster homes and planets, hoping someone would take you in. You gave that up by age ten, running away from your home planet to travel the galaxy. From that point on, most of your time was spent sneaking onto Starskiffs, hiding in empty cargo compartments on any moving vehicle you could find, and even stealing authorization keys to search occupied space stations, all in search of someone whom you could call family. 

But what exactly did the word family mean?

You always thought it was a strange word. It had such a subjective meaning, yet it was talked about so often. You didn’t understand what it meant, and no textbook definition could help you. All your efforts to find its meaning were in vain. And yet, your curiosity haunted you. 

With every new destination, the word family buzzed among the crowds constantly. No matter where you had landed yourself, all you could do was spectate. You watched as children laughed and clung to the legs of their guardians, as relatives sobbed in unified grief over flower dressed gravestones, and as teenagers linked arms with each other, growing away from the protective grasps of their parents. 

Every planet you traveled to, every dragging, lonely step you took, that sickening, seemingly joyous word that made you feel so isolated was there.

Six months after you had ran away, you went out alone to buy food. It was late at night, and you were preparing to head off to another planet the next day. Luckily, you bumped into a nice shopkeeper earlier who gave you some extra credits because she thought your coat was cool (in reality, she was just worried about you wandering off all alone, but didn't want to pry about your parents' whereabouts). So, you headed out amongst the crowds as you always did, pouch of credits in hand and determination plastered on your face.

But a woman stopped you on the way there and asked why such a young child was wandering around alone at night. She had a little girl with her, who looked no older than you. 

She asked you if you had any family she could call to come and get you, with the assumption that you were lost. You couldn't say anything. Instead, you just stared, your wide-eyed gaze pinned on the child that almost mirrored you. Almost. Perhaps if the world were kinder, your eyes could have donned the same innocent, joyful light. One of her hands was encased by her mother’s, while her other hand kindly reached out towards you. A cheerful “hello!” rang through the air as she tried to shake your hand. 

You stepped away from her. It was hard to breathe. You had seen all this before. Yet why was it so painful this time? 

Internally, you demanded the Aeons to tell you why the truth of your situation had to be rubbed in your face so blatantly. You were alone. You wondered if it might be good to explain that to them, to create some kind of connection with these people, but no words would leave your throat. Your heart felt like it was splintered in two.

You didn’t know how long you stood there staring, but you were sure the devastation tearing you up inside was evident on your face. The woman called out to you one more time, her worry falling on deaf ears as you backed away slowly. You took one more look at the girl before turning on your heel and running as fast as you could, sobs wracking your chest so deeply it hurt. 

You hadn’t returned to that planet since then.

You wanted the life that little girl had. You wanted to have a guardian.

But as the years went on, nothing changed. Your travels continued, and you came to terms with the fact that you might never know what family felt like. You made acquaintances as you traveled, friends, even. They never stuck around for long, though. The darkness always swallowed them up one way or another. And with every loss, the painful void in your chest numbed and steeled over a little more.

You thought that your life would always be this way. In truth, you had forgotten that there was any other way to live.

However, that was before a certain group of Stellaron Hunters swept you away from your life of solitude, and recruited you into their dangerous yet thrilling world. 

A year later, you found yourself on a sand covered planet. You were on a train, heading to one of the planets' larger cities from a smaller town. There wasn’t any way you walk- it was too hot and the distance was too far. Otherwise, you would have spent your savings on something other than train tickets.

The trip was uneventful and for most of it you just stared blankly out the window, exhaustion and boredom settling in your bones. You were tired from running errands for the previous town's residents- it was onerous but it happened to pay well. Though you were happy to have a break, your mind wasn’t used to the quiet. The barren landscape outside did nothing to help. It was a dry, flat expanse that was dotted only with dead weeds and the scraps of broken automatons. In short, nothing of interest.

Aside from that, all was going well. You had enough credits to last you at least six more train rides and get food and extra supplies, and you had several acquaintances with whom you could stay in the next city. You made a point not to talk about your budgeting skills, as it would usually spur a torrent of questions from whoever you were talking to. You couldn’t blame them though, children your age typically didn’t devote themselves to a life of aimless travel. 

The train stopped right on time, and you stepped onto the platform that was crowded with people. As usual, you were met with the sight of teary-eyed relatives hugging each other, children running around and playing, and couples greeting each other. You kept your head down, feeling more inconvenienced than sad. In their excitement, the crowds always seemed to block your path to the other platforms. Besides, they say time heals all wounds, so why would you care, anyway? You awkwardly shoved your way toward a nearby stairwell, grunting as several people bumped into you. Just as your fingers made contact with the stair’s banister, ear shattering sirens echoed throughout the station.

Emergency lights flashed on and off in a blinding rhythm, the red glow engraining itself into your mind. Suddenly, pixelated bullets flew towards the ceiling, shattering several of the glass panels. Screams rang out in response, and the previously happy crowd flew into a panic, ducking to avoid the broken glass. However, the glass shards evaporated into more pixels before they could hit the crowd, preventing any damage from being done.

Amidst the swarms of people trying to escape, you cautiously walked closer to the source of the commotion. You really shouldn’t have, but the nagging curiosity in the back of your mind compelled you to do so. And even if it seemed dangerous, there was something off about this incident. After all, if the initiators were out for blood, wouldn’t they have attacked the crowd directly? If whoever caused this wasn't intending to cause harm, they must be looking for something.

As you got closer, you saw three figures: A magenta haired woman with lightless eyes, a pistol in one hand, and a glowing thread of purple silk in the other. She was leaning back against one of the platform’s pillars, watching the whole scene with fake amusement. The second person you saw was a smaller girl decked out in a myriad of purples and blues, her drill style ponytail swaying as she typed up coordinates on a hologram screen. And lastly, you saw a red eyed man with a glare so sharp it made your heart sink. You certainly did not want to be subject to whatever rage he had stored away. From the looks of it, he could kill you in a split second.

For some reason, all three of them seemed familiar. You couldn't quite place it, but you quickly realized, you knew who they were. Their faces were plastered on all of the IPC’s wanted posters, which were scattered on literally every planet you had been to so far. You couldn’t remember their names exactly, but you knew that, together, they were known as the Stellaron Hunters- the universe’s most wanted criminals. You should have recognized them from the pixelated bullets earlier- how could you have been so naive?

You could have tried to run, but it would be futile. You were already out in the open, and they had already seen you.

Your eyes widened in sheer panic as the man dressed in black set his gaze on your shaking form. There was no way you’d survive this encounter. Absolutely zero chance. He stepped toward you but was interrupted by the sound of a clanging of a spear. The station’s security officers surrounded the Stellaron Hunters, demanding that they freeze and turn themselves in immediately.

You covered your ears and ducked as a fight broke out, the Stellaron Hunters throwing themselves into battle. Your eyelids were screwed shut in fear until the sounds of fighting had ceased. When you opened your eyes, you looked up to see that all of the guards had been knocked out, and that the taller woman standing above you, watching you in a way that was eerie, yet... comforting somehow. Even so, your better judgment caused you to back away, frantically scrambling on the hot cement of the platform. The red eyed man yanked you to your feet before you could stand up, and a panicked noise left your throat as he dragged you toward his two companions. you caught a glimpse of his sword that was poised in his other hand, taking note that he was ready to strike if necessary.

“It’s a kid.” He grumbled, still glaring at you. 

The tall woman chuckled and took a step forward, observing the way you struggled to get out of her companion’s grasp. You were getting more anxious by the second, she could tell. No matter how strong and collected you acted, you were still just a kid, and you had the minimal strength of one.

“Let them go, Blade. I don’t think they mean any harm.”

Small, scared breaths left your throat as you were released, your shaking legs failing to hold you up. You fell to the ground, staring in shock at all that had occurred. What would have happened if they didn’t let you go? How much danger were you really in, and how the hell were you still alive?

Then, the monotone voice of the grey haired girl met your ears. 

“What a waste. Looks like those signals were nothing but a glitch.” She sighed. “There's nothing for us here.”

The scary man who grabbed you- Blade, as the woman called him- looked down at you crumpled form, eyes softening just the tiniest bit. Your fearful gaze met his, and you didn’t dare move. The two other hunters made conversation about their next moves in the background, while Blade narrowed his eyes coldly.

“Why aren’t you running?”

…What?

“Go. Lingering here will only bring you suffering”

Your fearful gaze then turned to one of confusion. It was unclear if his words were meant to be a warning or advice. Either way, it gave you the strength to pull yourself off the ground and attempt to respond, but all that came out of you was a strangled groan. Your body hurt, and everything had happened so fast that your mind was still trying to catch up. It wasn’t that you were trying to make an impression by staying, you just couldn’t bring yourself to run because of the adrenaline coursing through you. You hunched over and placed your hands on your knees to get your bearings. After a few minutes, you finally responded.

“Y- yeah, I… uh…” You hesitated, unsure of what to say. “...I have another train to catch...?” 

It came out like a question, which was unintended. It was the truth, but you were so nervous that you would say something wrong and provoke him. Your life may have been spared for the moment, but they could still change their minds, and you didn't want to re-dig your own grave.

The man beside you let out a small sigh before turning his gaze back to his two companions.

“Fine.” He muttered.

A few moments passed with you and Blade sitting in comfortable silence. or, it was comfortable him, at least. He was still and silent, ignoring you entirely. You just kept fidgeting the whole time, unsure if you should stay or run for the hills. It was borderline suffocating. thankfully, the tall woman came over again, ending your misery.

“Well, we’re off.” She said to Blade, prompting him to walk towards the edge of the platform where the smaller girl stood. Before walking off, she turned to you one last time. 

“Take it easy, kid.”

Something in your heart screamed at you to speak up. A strange urge began eating away at you, telling you that if you didn’t do something right now you’d regret it for the rest of your life. But do what? What could you do without potentially dying? It was stupid. And dangerous.

But that old feeling of longing, that desire to be a part of something wouldn’t leave you alone. Your desperation to attain a family of your own had been reawakened. Your undying hope, which laid dormant for years, was now ruling your judgment.

Just as they turned to leave, you stumbled forward and cried out.

“Wait!”

All three heads turned towards you. 

A purple set of eyes knowingly scanned you as you trembled, a smirk growing on the woman’s face. 

You anxiously gripped at your clothing, trying to summon up the courage to put on some kind of brave face for them. Before you think, pleas for them to take you with them were spilling from your throat. You told them that you wanted to see the universe and that if they gave you that opportunity, you’d do whatever you could to assist them. It was a partial lie- exploring the universe did sound fun, but it wasn't what you were truly after. Your true motivations were far too personal to tell them just yet. It felt like a wound had unexpectedly reopened ever since they arrived, and you were sure you’d crumble if you forced yourself to explain.

Luckily, you didn’t have to. You had the strangest feeling that they already knew your story to some extent. Even without the influence of your longing, you couldn’t deny that it was the opportunity of a lifetime. It wasn’t every day that you came across three highly skilled fighters who could quickly travel anywhere they wanted. You could save years worth of credits and injuries if you went with them.

Once you had finished your frantic explanation, you took a breath to calm your pounding heart. The silence you were met with was deafening, which you took to be a bad sign. A deep chuckle reverberated through the elegant woman’s chest as she took a decisive step closer to you. She hummed in amusement, holding her hand out for you to take.  

“You may not be crucial to our mission,” she leaned down to your height, voice almost a whisper, “but if that’s what you want, then who are we to disagree?”

You took her hand, heartbeat slowing to a calm pace as you did so.

The days you spent with the Stellaron hunters were some of the most peaceful days you had ever experienced. 

You weren’t constantly slinking around trying to find information and resources for your travels, and it was the first time you had slept in a room that had officially been dubbed as your own. You weren't hopping between inns and the homes of your few friends. Even expenses weren't an issue anymore. It felt strange to have time on your hands. Guilt inducing, even.

You didn’t get too caught up in that though, since the confusion and questions plaguing your mind happened to be stronger than your melancholy. It was beyond your understanding how three of the most dangerous criminals in the entire universe could be so kind and willing to take you in. Perhaps it was because you had seen too much. You were a witness to Blade knocking out over ten armed guards. However, they were so powerful that they seemed to be able to get away with anything. Either way, you were a part of their goup, and that's what mattered.

As time went on, you grew closer to the Stellaron Hunters. Especially Kafka, who you learned was much less intimidating in regular life, and Silver Wolf, who was still as deadpan as before, but seemed subtly happier with you around. You also were officially introduced to Blade, and were promised that he wasn't always so brooding. That was hard to believe, though.

Silver Wolf was like a sister to you. She dragged you with her everywhere. She said it was a part of your duties to accompany her on errands, but in reality, she just enjoyed having you with her. Whenever a battle presented itself, she would have you on the sidelines cheering for her as she obliterated enemies in the blink of an eye. It was clear that your support went straight to her ego, but she also secretly wanted to impress you so that you'd view her as some sort of mentor. Silver Wolf wanted to be a reliable guide and friend to you, especially after you had been alone for so long. Thankfully, you didn’t mind spending time with her. In fact, chatting and playing video games with her became one of your favorite ways to kill time. The latter was clearly her passion– after all, her combat techniques were solely revolved around her exceptional hacking skills. 

Silver Wolf taught you how to play all her favorite games, staying calm and patient with you when you kept losing. Often, she would discreetly take you out to arcades during your free time, and every time it would be humbling due to your lack of gaming experience. However, losing meant that you had more time to watch her win, which was never boring. In any other situation, you might have been jealous, but it was just so mesmerizing to watch her play. Besides, she gave you all her prizes, so you weren’t going to complain. But what you found to be even more amusing was watching her lose it over the few games she hadn’t mastered yet. Her face would contort into one of sheer disbelief and anger as she held onto the machine tightly, aggressively mashing buttons and mumbling insults. You would always laugh and try to cheer her up in response. It always gave her a huge ego boost, and convinced her to try again, despite still being angry. You never expected to gain such a dear friend when you joined the Steallaron Hunters, and you wouldn’t trade any part of your friendship for the world.

Kafka was another story, though.

At first, Kafka terrified you. She held so much power over the other hunters- well, really over everything, that you were sure she’d destroy you if you stepped out of line. Her empty eyes and ruthless reputation didn’t help either. 

Ever since your arrival, Kafka kept a close eye on you. She made sure that you were alright as you settled in, and that you weren’t feeling unsafe or lonely in your new environment. She offered you comfort and advice and cared for you like the mothers you had witnessed on your past journeys. 

One night, a month after you had arrived, you hurt your leg on a walk and Kafka was right there to patch you up. She shushed you gently as you tried to protest that you were fine, and dragged you to the nearest chair so you could sit. She took a first aid kit from a nearby cabinet, and began tending to your wound. You winced as rubbing alcohol combined itself with your blood, and you quietly explained that you had been doing this your whole life- that it wasn’t her job to take care of you. Kafka paused and looked at you, eyes showing a rare glint of sadness. She whispered to you that those days were over. You weren’t alone anymore, and you should ask the three of them for help whenever you needed it. You weren’t a burden to them. 

Kafka wasn’t sure what the cause of it was, but something in her chest began to ache when she saw you injured. She had never felt fear before. She deemed it impossible before you came along. She had always been known as a ruthless, unshakeable force of danger, who would stop at nothing to achieve her goals. But now, she had to keep you safe. Part of her wanted to berate herself for getting so protective over someone, for willingly weakening herself by caring about you. But you needed safety and a group of loving people to return to. You were just a kid, after all, and even after the short time you had been traveling with them, she had begun to feel like your guardian.

Tears filled your eyes, her words weighing down on your lungs. You couldn’t truly believe her. Not after all you had been through. But even so, Kafka was right in front of you, smiling softly, waiting and willing to take care of you. She wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. It was a foreign feeling, one that scared you more than anything else. But you were safe. You were at home. 

So you let yourself cry. Your heart split open, all the bottled up agony from your past finally bursting out. You curled into yourself, the gash on your leg long forgotten. Kafka kneeled before you and gently wrapped her arms around your shaking form. One of her hands carded through your hair, while the other rubbed your back soothingly. Gentle whispers fell from her lips, promising you that she was with you. You were safe.

You weren’t sure how long had passed when you calmed down. Maybe it had been hours. Whatever the truth was, Kafka remained by your side, not pulling back until she was sure you were okay. After you had stopped crying, she leaned back, meeting your sad, exhausted stare. She looked down at your bleeding wound, grabbed a roll of bandages, and cautiously wrapped it around your leg. When she was finished, she smiled and stood up, placing a hand on your shoulder. You matched her smile, assuring her that you were fine.

However, after a moment, Kafka’s comforting smile was replaced with a teasing smirk. Confusion sparked in your eyes and your eyebrows furrowed as if to silently ask what the problem was. She just chuckled and took a seat across from you, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her head back as though she was assessing you. Her next words not only shocked you but caused your entire being to wilt in annoyance and anxiety.

“I think it’s about time we start training you in combat. If a scrape has you in this much pain, imagine the damage a real battle would do. We can’t have you dying on us, now can we?” 

She paused, thinking for a moment before reaching her conclusion. 

“Yes… I’ll have you train with Blade. His abilities never disappoint.”

And that was how your ongoing feud with Blade began. 

When Kafka decided to pair you up with Blade, you were pissed. However, you knew she was right. If you were falling apart just from accidentally scraping yourself, how were you supposed to handle actual threats? You would be utterly useless in a fight. And if anyone managed to get past the Stellaron Hunters and attempt to harm you, you would be dead on the spot. There wouldn't be a fight, just abrupt darkness, and a very disappointing end to a life such as yours. It would shatter the hearts of Kafka and Silver Wolf, who had already sworn to protect you at any cost. As you got older, the target on your back only became bigger. With the Stellaron Hunters’ reputation becoming more notorious by the day, civilians and authorities alike were bound to find out about you. Self-defense was a necessity.

But Blade never spoke to you. You felt as though you were a nuisance to him. Just another issue to be dealt with, another soul to pester him throughout the day. The way he glared at you made you wonder if you had done something wrong, or if you were imposing by being around. He made you feel out of place. Even after thorough reassurance from Kafka and Silver Wolf that his behavior was entirely normal, you still couldn’t help but worry. It was only after several months had passed that you came to understand that it truly wasn’t you- he was just grumpy. And that began to annoy you. If he wasn’t open to being somewhat nice, then why should you bother? You could glare back just as hard, and ignore him just as easily. If that's what he was getting at, then so be it. However, Kafka was the leader of both of you, and she wanted you to train. Despite your mild hatred of Blade, Kafka already had done so much for you. She only wanted the best for you. You could at least attempt to abide by her wishes.

So you gave in and begrudgingly stated training with Blade. 

For a few hours every day, you and Blade would find any open area and he would walk you through different defense techniques. You expected the technical side of it, but you did not expect that you would be sparring right off the bat. On the first day of training, he threw you into your first match and charged at you with the assumption that you had sharp enough reflexes to block him successfully. Obviously, you weren’t at all prepared since you had zero experience with combat. Turns out Kafka really wasn’t kidding when she said Blade knew how to fight.

Lessons carried on like this for weeks. You would return from sparring exhausted and bruised, feeling completely done with everything as you limped to your room to sleep. You felt generally bitter, making it hard for Kafka or Silverwolf to help, and Blade just acted like it wasn’t his problem. The most he did was help you up, and that was only if you put up a good fight. But thankfully, after a while, Blade began to notice how badly the sparring affected you. It wasn’t like you were on the brink of death, but you were still in pain. And given your age, there was no doubt that it was a lot more overwhelming than anticipated. So Blade subtly began to take care of you a little more. It wasn’t much- he mainly just gave you icepacks whenever you needed them and helped you walk, but it was the most he knew how to do. He was clueless when it came to caring for people, especially children.

You were a persistent kid, which Blade found surprising. He thought you would have given up within the first week of training, but you just kept working at it. And while Blade found your stubborn behavior annoying most of the time, it assured him that you had enough courage to fight alongside him and the others. He knew you didn’t like him much, and he knew a part of you blamed him for the injuries you got, which was reasonable. As annoying as you found him, Blade never gave up on you, even when you messed up or got so frustrated that you cried. He never babied you during these moments either. Instead, he would walk you through what went wrong and have you run through the solution until you had it down cold. Even if you were upset, he wanted you to push through it and use your anger to become stronger. You had been fighting your whole life. You had the tenacity and potential to gain the strength that you required. Blade could tell that, even after joining them, you wanted a purpose. You wanted to explore the universe and find your place among the glowing webs of stars. However, the beauty of the galaxy came with dark and unfamiliar territory. If you were to traverse the universe, you had to learn how to handle to darkest parts of it.

Little by little, you improved. You worked as hard as possible until you were able to withstand Blade’s strength and evade his attacks properly. You had a long, long way to go before you could actually defeat opponents, but you could at least hold them off, which was just as important. Despite how grueling Blade’s teaching methods were, you did come to respect him more as your mentor. He looked out for you in his own distant ways and seemed to actually care about you. In truth, Blade had started getting protective over you- not that he would admit it. It wasn’t an overbearing kind of protectiveness- he just wanted you to stay out of trouble. It was nice to pass knowledge onto someone, and protect them from the world's dangers by doing so.

The truth was, even if Blade acted indifferently toward you, he secretly was really proud of you. He admired your kindness, even after all the pain you had been dealt. You kept smiling and picking yourself up, finding your back to the light time and time again. Perhaps that's what made you so different from him. His will to keep fighting was growing fainter by the day.

Even with your differences, you both became closer. Blade kept an eye on you whenever you left the ship, talked with you whenever you got bored, and even helped you whatever chores you had to do. Sure, you were stubborn, but Blade never grew to dislike you. Your relationship felt routine and safe- it held a sense of comfort that felt normal. Blade caught himself questioning if this was what family was meant to feel like. He couldn't remember, but a faint, distant memory assured him that it was. If he could contribute to the familial safety you longed for so much, he would gladly do so. 

Was that even possible, though?

Blade had very little experience with love of any kind. Any memories he had of his past friend and family were long gone. His own sense of self was unstable, so how could he provide stability for you? He couldn't bear the thought of causing you pain. Or, there was a chance that he would rub off on you. That you would start to become like him. That prospect was enough to make him feel sick. So he began distancing himself from you in any way he could.

Now, whenever you crossed paths he would treat you especially coldly. Most times he saw you, he walked past you and pretended you didn't exist at all. He was back to being rude and dismissive, even more so than when you first met him.

Instead of encouraging you during training, he would call you weak and pick apart everything you had done wrong. This was not received well by you. After all, you didn’t know if Blade’s behavior was your fault, or if this was just how he truly was. You felt dejected and lonely, even with the support from Kafka and Silver Wolf. Though you loved them immensely, Blade was also someone you cared about, and you didn’t want to lose another parental figure. After weeks of being ignored, hatred replaced any good image you had of him. What used to be a safe, happy friendship soon morphed into an incessant rivalry. 

It felt like Blade only wanted to see you unhappy. You imagined that he was secretly gloating over your distress- that you were nothing more than a temporary amusement to him. But you were wrong. So, so very wrong. Blade hated seeing you upset because of him. He was failing you by ignoring your wellbeing. You were just a kid. More importantly, you trusted him.

But it was for your own good, wasn’t it? His past was dark, and perhaps he was too, by nature. He would never forgive himself if he allowed harm to come to you. Even if that meant leaving you behind. No, he would much rather watch you grow up and live happily from afar. 

Kafka still wanted you to train though, so Blade couldn’t avoid you entirely. Sparring was the only time he saw you anymore. Your sessions with him were difficult, but not because the material was hard. In fact, it was harder for Blade than you. You would glare at him constantly and show complete indifference to everything, making it nearly impossible to communicate with you. He wasn’t doing much better either- he couldn’t bring himself to say anything to you. It felt like the consequences of his neglect were crawling up his back, ready to snap at him at any moment, and he knew that any day now, you would finally break. Soon, everything would fall apart.

You knew Blade was heartless, but his cruelty was amplified when you trained with him now. He went all out, forcing you to scramble for scraps of knowledge he had previously given you to win. But that wasn’t enough this time. You were too tired, physically and emotionally, to continue. You felt smaller and weaker than you had ever felt before.

Lightning-fast blows struck you from all sides, the scent of bloodstained spider lilies clouding your senses. You weakly pulled your sword out of its sheath and tried to block his attacks, but doing so would knock you off balance from the force of his blows. You fell back on the ground, coughing and clambering to your feet, promptly hurling yourself towards Blade with hopes of hitting him just once. Built-up anger from the last few weeks rushed through your heart, tears of desperation dripping down your cheeks. God, you were tired of this. Blade used to be your friend. You wanted to know what changed, and you wanted that piece of your family back.

In your fury, your reaction time fell short. Blade darted behind you and shoved you to the ground, watching coldly as you crumpled over in defeat. A glint of regret shone in his eyes, but he quickly covered it up by turning his back to you. Once more, you picked yourself up, your throat burning from the lack of a break. It must have been hours since the start of your match, but it might have just felt that way because you were the one getting injured. Never before had Blade fought you this hard. You weren’t prepared, and he knew that. You internally questioned if he was actually trying to make you despise him, albeit sarcastically. It hadn’t occurred to you yet that it might actually be the case. You shakily lifted your head to look at him, angrily mumbling something that Blade couldn’t understand.

Blade took a breath and turned around to face you, blank expression unwavering. 

“What was that?” He growled. The world seemed to fall silent as you locked your gaze with his in an act of defiance.

“I said, I hate you!”

You hated that you were crying. You hated feeling weak. You hated what he had put you through.

But you didn’t hate him. Not entirely.

You wanted to hate him fully. You wished you were strong enough to. But even then, as you wiped your tears and walked out, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him. Maybe it was the memories you had of when he felt like family, maybe it was inherent kindness or just plain stupidity. You couldn’t feel hatred. All you felt was dejection. So naturally, you began spiraling. 

If Blade didn’t want you around, there was a chance Kafka and Silver Wolf didn’t want you either. If it was possible that they secretly hated you too, you wouldn’t allow yourself to withstand their rejections as well. You might as well just get out of their way, and save yourself the trouble. It was nice feeling happy for a while. But it wasn’t what you were made for. It wasn’t how you were used to living. Perhaps this was a sign that your destiny rested in the familiar arms of solitude, away from the glowing crowds.

That night, when you returned from training, you bid Kafka and Silver Wolf goodnight and began packing your bags. When you were sure everyone had gone to sleep, you took your leave. You slipped out of the ship’s main entrance, the frigid night air numbing the uncertainty in your chest. You started walking, not sure where you were headed. You were out of practice with your usual travel routines, but that wasn’t important. As long as you were away from the Stellaron Hunters, you would be safe. Lonely, but safe. But even with your half hearted reasoning, you still felt a sinking feeling that this wasn’t right. That you might regret this. You shoved it off, cursing at yourself quietly for getting so softhearted. It was time to cut ties. It was for the best.

However, you had made one vital mistake. While preparing to leave, you had purposely left behind any photos or items given to you by Kafka, Silver Wolf, or Blade. In your rush to leave, you accidentally left behind something incredibly important to you: your mother’s necklace. 

You took it off and left it on your desk by accident. It was the last existing link between you and your biological parents and you cherished it because of that. So when Kafka found it the next morning, along with your neatly made bed and discarded photos, she knew something was very wrong. Silver Wolf burst into your room shortly after she found them, questioning Kafka about your whereabouts. She had no answer, all she could do was say she hadn’t seen you. Silver Wolf left worried and agitated, grumbling about how they had to find you. As Silver Wolf left, Blade approached your doorway with the intent of finding you for your training session, because at this point you would have been late. Gripping the necklace tightly, Kafka turned to face Blade. She knew there tension had been growing between you and him for the last month. If he was the cause of your absence, she would not let him get away unscathed.

Blade’s expression was serious, but Kafka could see the glint of confusion in his eyes. He seemed entirely clueless, so perhaps interrogating him wouldn't do much.

“There’s no sign of them anywhere on the ship,” she said softly, trying to keep her voice steady. “There’s only this.” Kafka gestured to the thin chain that lay forgotten on your desk. Dread immediately shot through Blade’s heart.

You had left.

And it was all his fault.

He neglected you. You had every right to leave. He was meant to be a guardian to you. It was his job- no, his privilege to keep you safe, and failed to do so. And now you could be anywhere in the galaxy, wandering aimlessly once again. Blade carefully took the necklace, trying to keep his composure as questions and visions of the worst raced through his mind. What if they never found you, or what if you had gotten hurt? What if it was too late, and you were already–

He didn’t allow that thought to finish itself. Catastrophizing would only slow the process of finding you. 

But would you even want to come back? Why would you, when you felt unwelcome enough to leave in the first place? And even if, by some miracle, you came back, would you ever trust him again? If you ever granted him forgiveness, would he even deserve it?

This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? That was why he pushed you away- so you would leave him alone. You were gone now, and he had gotten what he wanted. Was he truly so terrible that he would still be unhappy, even after he had achieved his desire?

It wasn't meant to go like this.

You weren't meant to leave them. It was his fault though, so maybe it was best to let you go.

Kafka’s piercing gaze bored into the side of Blade's head as she watched the gears turning inside his head. She took a short breath before heading towards the door. She was scared of losing you, and angry that they hadn’t noticed your absence until now. There was no time for emotions such as anger. You were missing. They had to find you.

Blade stood in the center of your room, now entirely alone. The metal of your necklace dug into his skin as he clutched onto it for dear life, his eyes falling to the pictures on your bed. You seemed so happy before. So did Kafka and Silver Wolf- he was happy too, though he was reluctant to admit it out loud. He had broken the loving family you had brought together. A strange family, but a family nonetheless. 

Blade kept staring. He wished he could go out looking for you. Unfortunately, wishes are not reality.

Blade would not search for you that day. He would be chained to where he stood, fighting with himself internally as time slipped by quietly. You could have died already. And he was just standing there, staring.

No, he would not look for you.

Because the truth cannot be denied, nor masked with excuses- in the end, Blade is a cruel man.

One who cannot be changed by anything.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #blade x reader #yingxing x reader #blade x reader platonic #kafka x reader #silver wolf x reader #stellaron hunters x reader #gender neutral reader #hsr angst #hsr fluff #blade x you #hsr x you #kafka x you #silver wolf x you #honkai star rail #platonic #angst

[websterss]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 — 𝐀𝐙𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐋

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: You and Azriel had dreamed of nothing more than to be parents. You were ready for it, you just weren't prepared to have that dream be ripped away.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): angst, mentions of death, mentions of slight blood not really, mentions of stillbirth, grievance, and mourning, just angst all around really...

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3,038

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Azriel x fem!Reader

𝐀/𝐍: I hope you like it! I work with children so sometimes I get a cute teacher!reader idea fics. I was asked to help out in the early head start classes last week and well, being around 1-3 years old made me emotional, also I've been sad lately so this fic was the end result of how I've been feeling...also this is my first azriel fic and I'm fucking nervous...anyway let me know what you guys think!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You had dreamed of a life worth waking up to…in the room down the hall. Dreamed of the cuddles and nose kisses that would cure your bad woes away. Dreamed of the giggles and laughter, ones you’d hope would be replications of yours and Azriels combined. Dreamed of the late-night cries and restless nights of sleep. You wanted it…more than anything else. You wanted the life you were ready to live that awaited behind the door with the blue and pink butterflies.

The room you spent countless hours parading around and holding up color swatches to. It drove Azriel mad, having you make him repaint and coat with a new color you fell hopelessly in love with, but you knew he’d do it all over again to hold onto the hope you shared that was now gone.

Azriel stood at your bedroom door, his chest closing in on itself as he felt you hurt. He felt your hate, your grief…he felt empty knowing that the stillbirth wasn’t felt one-sided. He felt the loss of his two unborn babes.

You spent the days in your bed crying. Your bedsheets and pillowcases had long since turned soggy, and you no longer had the energy to cry any harder. Azriel took the brunch of your earlier breakdowns. holding you as you wept and pleaded to have them back. It had taken Rhysand to shut down your mind. Having you fall head forward into Azriel's neck as he held you.

“Rhys…please! I beg of you!” Azriel had cried out to his brother for help. Your pain had gone right down to his side of his bond and as much as he didn't want to he needed a moment's worth of quiet. Rhysand had only nodded cupping his brother's crying face, knowing Azriel wasn't doing this out of anger, but because he wanted you both to stop hurting for just one night, but that pain would never stop coming.

“Don’t you dare…don’t you dare! Rhysand no!” You wept as Azriel held you in his arms. “I don’t wanna sleep…I don’t wanna sleep yet…” It only took one glance at Azriel and Rhysand had pressed his forefingers against both your temples. Azriel eyes shut, and the last thing he heard was your whimpers dying out quietly.

His betrayal hurt, but your body ached more, your heart throbbed, and your stomach twisted into knots. You had done everything to prepare for their arrival. Had spent hours selecting their names, stocking the nursery, and speaking to them every day. Now you barely had the strength to get up and eat. Much less Azriel but he was doing his best to hold it together for you both. He lost two precious gems, he didn’t want to end up losing his beautiful diamond too.

He watched with a heavy heart as Madja checked your pulse for the umpteenth time this week.

“It would be best to start eating child.”

“I did everything you asked of me...” You murmured staring off into space.

“You need to gain your strength back, little one. Don’t tell anyone but you’re my favorite apprentice I've ever had. I’d hate to see you go so soon.” Madja brushed back your hair.

“I did everything right Madja…” Your breaths growing labored again.

“I know child. I know you did.” Madja's heart ached for you both. “Unfortunate and unfair circumstances.” She mourned for the beautiful twins she had to help you deliver. She looked up at Azriel as he hastily wiped a tear from his cheek.

“Child, when is the last time you’ve eaten?” She directed her firm tone at the Shadowsinger.

“I don’t want to eat.” You muttered.

“I won’t eat until she does.” You and Azriel spoke at the same time.

“Stubborn…” Madja cursed amongst something else you couldn’t comprehend.

Madja let out a small sigh before she pulled you into an embrace and pressed your head into her shoulder as she rubbed your back. In your moment of vulnerability, your emotions grew even more intense. You felt the tears on your cheeks mix with Madja's as she kissed your temple. Madja's heart broke seeing the once vibrant young woman that filled rooms with joy and energy, turn into a lifeless zombie of her former self. She broke seeing Azriel lose himself even further, falling back into his shadows for comfort. He resembled that of a scared lost babe, trying to find his way home again. When she received the call from Feyre, she knew the whirlwind of emotions that was going to follow.

-

"Where is she?" She called out as soon as she and Rhysand winnowed in. She didn't even think about it when she stuffed her bag with everything she needed.

"Third door down. The girls are trying to keep her calm... nothing's working." Rhysand followed right on her tail.

"She's having twins Rhysand of course not child!" Madja cursed as she hurried her footsteps.

The scene before her was a mess. The house a disarray, and the living room thrashed, probably where the panic started. She heard Feyra and Nesta ordering Cassian for more towels from upstairs. She climbed up to the second landing. Her eyes immediately fell onto Azriel's, finding him holding his stomach in pain with tears in his eyes, as he sat with his knees to his chest.

"Madja I can't feel them-" He could barely get out before she walked right past him.

"Get him up." She called over his shoulder. "I need you three in there."

"Why?" Rhysand asked as she followed the cacophony of your wails of anguish.

"I need you three to help hold her down, the girls won't be enough."

"Hold her down?"

"Get him up!" Rhysand had scrambled to haul him up on his feet. Ushering him into the room he had half a mind to go into. Azriel cried harder seeing your blood stain the sheets.

"Madja-" You cried out to her. Slightly relieved she was finally here to help you. "I-I can't feel—feel them. I can't feel—" You choked up.

"I'm here child. I'm here." Madja cleaned her hands and then checked under your nightgown. Your heart sank as she tried keeping her eyes at bay from watering. She hovered her hand over your stomach and as she paused, you knew it wasn't a good sign.

"M-Me or them?" Your lips quivered. "Madja? W-What's wrong? Are they okay? If you can...save them please. S-Save my babies please!" The healer only continued to remain silent. She looked up briefly at Feyre and Rhysand, her mind opening up to them.

Madja? Rhysand bent his chin in concern.

I cannot feel they're heartbeats. She thought. Feyre shed a tear at the news.

"Madja?" Azriel's voice pulled her thoughts away. "Are the babes okay?"

"Child..." She began somberly.

"T-Tell me..." You inhaled deeply, gripping Azriel's and Rhysand's arms tighter.

"...I can no longer feel their heartbeats. The twins I'm afraid are stillborn my child." A tear shed down her cheek.

"N-No." Your grip loosened up, as Azriel's grew stronger.

"And I need you to be very strong for me for this next part because you need to push them out."

"I-I can't-" You began to protest.

"You can! I know you can. You, my dear are the strongest person I have ever had the pleasure of knowing...and I will be here with you every step of the way. We all will."

You had barely mustered a disheartened nod before she told you to begin pushing.

-

“You both are a pain in my ass…a beautiful pain…but still a pain.” Madja shook her head, hearing Azriel scoff at her choice of comforting words. “Can I be honest?”

“You always are…” Azriel grumbled now shifting to the end of the frame of the bed.

“I do not care if you don’t want to eat. you need to eat. Precisely because I don’t want to have to receive an urgent call from Rhysand or Feyre telling me you idiots gave out on us. I refuse to have you leave this world so soon.” You looked up and met her arched brow.

“Madja—“ You began to protest.

“Eat. Both of you or I'll shove my hand down your throats and force-feed you.” Madja gestured to the nightstand with a tray stacked with two bowls and glasses. You’d been eating a few crackers, but she didn’t think that was enough. She had brought over soup from the kitchen in hopes you’d finally get some real food in your gut.

Azriel and you shared glances that told her you’d rather starve together than either of you eat at different times. Madja was about to argue but she knew she’d be arguing into the wind with you two. Your bond was too strong.

”I don’t want anything Madja...” Was your only reply as you hid your gaze from the healer and your mate, whose faces were so deeply etched with worry. Azriel was taking your pain on like he deserved it. Slowly withering away alongside you. It was you and him against the world, against death if that's how you wanted it. He wouldn't let you go alone. "It hurts..."

”I understand it hurts, but you gotta put something in your stomach or it’s gonna hurt even more.”

“Please…” You pleaded again, your voice hoarse and cracking as you spoke.

“Please Madja...” Azriel was soon echoing your pleas with the same breathless voice as tears formed at the corners of his eyes.

"Come." She motioned Azriel to sit on the other side of the bed.

Azriel met your somber gaze before he walked over and slipped into the bed with you. Shifting closer until his chest was pressed against your back. You slowly moved your head from Madja's chest and leaned it back against Azriel's chest. Madja looked between the two of you and gave a slight nod. The two of you both watched as she twisted around and then placed the tray down in the middle of your laps. She gripped both your hands before gesturing to the soup with crackers.

"Won't eat together, then you start together. Eat, I talk." You grumbled then let your shoulders fall at the two spoons she held out for you both. You took one from her, as did Azriel before allowing you to slowly sit up. Once situated, Azriel watched you slowly take the first spoonful then took one of his own from the bowl. His shadows vivaciously sprang to life as you both ate in silence together. "It won't pass...not for a long time." You both looked up at her for a moment before looking down again.

Azriel swallowed the soup without tasting it. It would take more time for him to start eating at a regular pace again. He took his time, enjoying the warmth of the soup as it slid down his throat. As you started to eat a little more from the bowl, he kept his gaze trained on you, watching every movement you made. He had not stopped worrying about you. You were weak and vulnerable in this state, as was he, but he refused to let you fall again. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to your temple as a tear fell down your cheek. When you cried, he wasn’t far from crying too. Tears of his own soon fell at the feeling of that bubble of anguish building up in your chest again.

"This kind of loss…it stays with you forever. The empty hole in your chests." She puts her finger in the center of your sternum gently. "That my dear child will fill itself up again within time. I'm not going to give you my apologies because I know you both have had enough of everyone's condolences, but I can give you the reassurance as your healer, and your friend, that it'll happen again, and again, and if doesn't then you can try again another time."

Azriel listened but remained silent. He had always been one who believed actions spoke louder than words. He couldn't force himself to believe that the pain and sorrow would eventually pass, but he could trust in her words this time. Her actions had proven themselves enough, you wouldn't be sitting beside him without her. If there was anyone he would be willing to trust it was Madja. She had been another mother figure to him after losing the two he did have. Her words brought an empty comfort to him, but her love brought warmth and familiarity like that of a mother's embrace. He knew she meant well. Madja always tried.

Madja's words of promise brought Azriel some hope. You could see the worry in his expression as he chewed on a spoonful of soup and nodded to her words. He knew she was right. If it wasn't meant to be now then you could always try again in the future. Madja's fingers caressed your skin softly. She could see the grief that lingered in your eyes. Her hand grazed against your cheek tenderly and her thumb swiped your tear away.

“And if it doesn’t?” You asked, your head tilting to one side as she spoke. You felt so lost now, so confused about what was to be of your grieving family of two right now. If you’d be okay after this and how you were supposed to move on. She had offered hope to fill the empty gap, but that void of that missing piece in your heart ached. It ached for your twins that you wanted more than anything to be resting in a cradle next to your and Azriel's bed, or for that night to have been a promise of new life blooming from within you, instead of death taking it from within you.

Azriel's head fell to the side, his gaze drifting to your intertwined hands. He knew that Madja meant well, but it didn't make her words any less painful to hear. He wanted more than anything to see your belly swell again. To fall asleep each night knowing you were cradling two precious gems within you. The thought of that possibility made his heartache. He couldn't even imagine the thought of trying again, it was too much.

"I don't want it to happen again Madja…I don't want to experience this pain again." You whispered, your voice shaking as you let out another sob. The pain was only going to get worse, and you weren't sure what to do. To you, it wasn’t even about conceiving another baby, but the fact that you lost the twins you held so dearly within your womb. Azriel gently scooted you closer into his arms. Your bodies pressed against each other as he pulled you into a gentle hug. "I don't think I could go through that again." You shook your head.

“Neither could I…” Azriel whispered. He kept his eyes focused on you as he caressed your back and held you close. It wasn’t so much the grief that caused your hearts to break, but the thought of going through the journey again only to have the same results. Would you be able to handle losing your babes again? Azriel knew he wouldn't be able to. Would there be a point break in your hearts that you both wouldn't be able to take on any more pain? That thought alone scares him. Azriel pulled you into his body, burying his head into your hair. His body shook with every word he tried to hold back, but his voice gave way.

"I'm sorry my love..." He mumbled with his lips pressed against your forehead as he hugged you tighter. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the images of you almost giving out on him. You could feel the drops of his tears fall on you, but he refused to let go. Azriel held you close, his breathing becoming heavy as memories of the night flooded his mind heavily.

"I'm here..." You whispered sweet nothings of reassurance to him.

“I can't promise that we won't go through this again…” Madja’s heart skipped a beat at your tear-filled eyes. You both wanted nothing more than to conceive another precious babe in the future if you're both up for it again surely, but you both fear the heartache that would follow if it takes the same turn again. Madja is right, that kind of pain will never truly heal or leave you. You can only pray that it won't happen again. You both turn to her. "But I can promise you'll have many many beautiful babies. Your body will allow it my child that is my reassurance. I can't take away your pain, your grievance of your lost twins, but I can give you the hope for better days and the expansion of your little family that will continue to grow and grow." She brought her hands up and cupped the sides of your faces.

"Promise?!" Azriel's voice was filled with hopefulness as if he could already see the light at the end of this dark and twisted tunnel. You could finally see some relief wash over him as she explained. His hands reached up and rested against her palm as he focused on her every word.

Madja's words brought you comfort, at least for now. Her promise of conceiving future babies gave you hope that one day you'd still have your dream of a big family with Azriel. You wouldn't have to carry the weight of the twins' death on your shoulders alone. You had Azriel alongside you, and Rhysand, and Feyre, and Nesta, and Cassian, and Mor, and Amren, and Madja. She was right though, she always was–the hollow of sadness wouldn't go away, but it could be filled. You'd make sure to make that empty in ache that burned you whole again, if not now, then you and Azriel would have the future and many years to come. That was all you could hope for now.

"That I can promise you." You both nodded as she pulled you into her embrace. Your and Azriel's minds wander further down the hall, where the door remains closed. The door with the blue and pink butterflies. 

#acotar azriel #azriel imagines #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x fem!reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel oneshot #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel spymaster #azriel angst #acotar fanfiction #writings by juls #my gif

[ghouljams]

Home [Chapter 6]

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Tags: Viking au, Viking!Soap, highlander!reader, healer!reader, Soap x f!reader, slow burn, f!oc cameo(Witch), sea travel, grief, kidnapping(sort of)

Summary: Again you find yourself at the mercy of the Vikings' will, moved without your consent to a place you'd rather not go. You must be going mad, somehow it all reminds you of home.

Packing up camp takes less time than you’d thought, though you suppose many hands make light work. Your hands aren’t saved from that work either. Despite decidedly not being a viking you’re directed to assist with collapsing and packing tents. Mactavish points out where to store them on the ship, before picking up crates and barrels with a soft grunt. You resent being given the easy work, relegated to burden before you even set out, but you would resent being given anything harder too.

Working with vikings. Your blood boils at the thought, but you have no other way to go. With no pressing medical needs you’re treated the same as every other man in the crew. You’re not sure whether to resent that fact or laugh. Are you a woman or aren’t you? Are you surrounded by wolves or are you taken into their burrow? Will you find hands shoved under your clothes, or won’t you?

You stick to Mactavish, try not to be underfoot after the first viking you bump yells at you. The men are all preoccupied with carrying their burdens, if it weren’t for Mactavish you might see threads of escape. You might have taken the chaos of packing the ship as your best chance to get out of here. But Mactavish seems to welcome your company, chattering away as he directs you to grab crates and load the long boat. His hand is firm on your back, always touchy even when it’s not called for.

“Is nae a long journey,” He explains, “jus’ across the straight. We’ll be there before ya ken it.”

It doesn’t escape your notice how excited your viking counterpart is at the prospect of going home. If it were you, and to some extent it is, you wouldn’t be so eager to part with your homeland. As you see it Mactavish may as well renounce the tartan he wears over his shoulders, eager as he is to be a viking. You don’t have much choice in where you go, but you’ll be damned if you’re eager to leave. 

You’re employed, that’s it. You work or you die. You catch the captain’s eye as Mactavish shows you where you’ll be stationed for the journey. He tips his head to talk to the viking in the skull mask, his attention off of you as quickly as it had found you. Mactavish catches you staring and sighs.

“He’s just nervous about ya runnin’.”

“As if you wouldn’t strike me down before I left camp,” You mumble, your eyes following the trails of axes and swords where they sit on the hips of the men loading the ship. Mactavish winces. You don’t see how it could mean much to him, you’re just extra cargo, another mouth to feed that shouldn’t be there in the first place.

“Ah wouldnae,” Mactavish tries, you push past him. You’re uninterested in empty promises, in words that have the same substance to them as the air they whisper through. He would, he just needs to be given the order and your life is forfeit. Wants disappear when viking’s greed is on the line.

“It doesn’t matter,” You tell him, you’re already stolen, you’ve nothing to return to, what reason could you have for running? You’re the only woman on the ship, and for who knows how long. That’s reason enough to run. There’s space to run on land, but at sea? You pause, frown at the rocky beach below your feet. You’d be better served dead than passed between oars. 

The fears of women, you have no sane way of voicing them to your captor. Mactavish hands you a bag, the contents of it shift with strange shapes as you find your hold. It’s smokey, smelling of meat and brine. It grounds you a little. You clear the anxiety from your mind and glance out over the sea, trying to find the other side the way you used to when you were small.

-

You’re reminded almost immediately that Mactavish owns you as the longboat pushes off the shore. You’re caged between the wall of the ship and your least favorite viking, his words bouncing around your head as he directs men to row. “My catch,” “my watch,” “prey.” He calls you that again in a hushed tone,

“Dae ya get sea sick, Vaenn?”

You ignore him, turn your head to rest it against the wooden wall of the ship. There’s little for you to do on the ship but wait. You patch a few blisters on the youngest vikings, and tend to the fever that’s brought on by a night of rain. Mostly you find yourself with Mactavish pressed to your side. Big and warm, sturdy when you try to push him off. His eyes are stormy each time you look at him, the clouds parting when he turns to meet your stare. 

He pulls on smiles like an old pair of shoes. They’re well worn, practiced to his face, but they never reach his eyes. You wonder what he must be thinking. You try to drown out that curiosity with a different one. What are you meant to do when you get to shore?

Four days of sailing and the only thing you’ve come up with is: doctor. You suppose there must be more vikings, more warriors returning from different pillages, that need patching up. You can’t imagine what that must look like, a whole village of brutes. You wonder if they kidnap all their women, or if you’re a special case. 

Exhaustion weighs on you. The rocking of the boat, the unease in your stomach around sleeping with so many strangers nearby, you find little rest and in the short grabs of it you jerk awake to the heat of fire. Your grief has started to numb you, or perhaps that’s the ocean’s chill. Mactavish fixes his fur around your shoulders more tightly, checks the heat of you with a cool hand against your cheek. You wonder if he even has the capacity to worry for others. A man that would turn away from the screams of an entire village is a man that holds no one but himself in his heart. You turn away from him more often than not, feel the frustrated curl of his fingers before they’re dropped in a fist to his lap. 

You can see it every time you close your eyes, so you don’t. You can hear your own sobs ripping from your chest, can feel the strength of Mactavish’s arm around you, in your dreams. You don’t sleep. What’s lost can never be regained, and now you slip further from it. Your skin is cold and your stomach churns with the waves. You tuck your resentment close to your chest, and nurse it with bitterness.

You’re not going home. You don’t have one of those anymore.

-

You’re startled awake by a familiar melody, words you know from your mother’s tongue. You mutter her name, still addled by sleep, and split your eyes open. Mactavish is studying his hands beside you, digging his short nails into the calluses at the base of his fingers. His voice is low, but the tune carries. The usually noisy ship seems to hold its silence. In the dim grey light of dawn you wonder if it’s just the two of you awake.

The only two souls alive that carry the land’s proper tongue.

And yet he mutters it, the words of the lullaby said under his breath, breathed through the chopped melody that leaves his lips. He doesn’t even seem to pay attention to it, his eyes focused on his hand’s work more than the tune. You listen to the sharp pick of skin, nearly louder than the familiar tune, and try not to move. 

“-found the trial o’ mountain mist, but ne’er a trace of baby o,” He hums, his lips twitching with pain as he digs his nail too deep. Mactavish looks up towards the bow of the ship and you follow his eyes as best you can, watching Gaz and the Captain speaking in quiet tones.

Gaz holds a telescope to his eye, nodding and directing course when he brings it down. The air waits for them. There’s a near silent beating of wings, and the captain holds out his arm for a black bird to perch on. He strokes its beak with a finger, the creature clicking pleasantly before it alights again, back the way it came. 

Your heart pounds in your chest. The threat of land never closer than it is when the Captain turns to the ship and announces,

“We’ll be sleeping in beds tonight, lads.”

Mactavish smiles to himself, his head bowed, while the rest of the crew cheers. You don’t share their excitement.

-

The port you dock in is nothing like you expected. Mactavish offers you a hand to help you off the ship, and though you reach for it instinctually, you ultimately spurn the gesture. You’d rather make a fool of yourself tripping over your skirts than take help from that man. Again you see his fist clench, dropped heavily to his side as he stares at the space you used to occupy. The skull faced viking directs the unloading of cargo, barking orders to the others while you look out at the town.

It’s not what you thought it would be. There’s no dismal hopelessness to the buildings that dot the grassy landscape. Women and children move between the houses without fear, and market stalls exchange their goods for coin under colorful banners. In the distance you can see sheep grazing, men fish along the shore, farms and gardens dot the landscape. The dirt path that winds around town works its way inward, all roads leading to the center, a longhouse built up on a hill. It reminds you too much of your own home. Bigger perhaps, but twisting the knife in your heart as clearly as your mother’s face might.

A viking carrying a heavy crate bumps you from your observation, and your arm is caught by another. You give a shout of surprise, looking around for Mactavish and finding the Captain instead. He all but drags you along the dock, his grip firm and unyielding even when you struggle against it. You’re deposited in front of a woman. There's darkness under her eyes, runes in coal over her cheeks, and bone woven into her red hair. She smiles at you warmly, and you jerk back away from her. 

There’s something unnerving in her smile, in her movements. 

Her brows draw together, concern coloring her expression. The black bird that you’d seen greeting the ship rests on the staff she’s holding, its beak clicks curiously at you. You ignore it. Birds like that are only good for eating.

“One Læknir,” The Captain presents you, he says something else, a word you don’t understand that makes the woman laugh. She looks more alive when she laughs.

“You are-” She seems to struggle for the word, your language ill-suited to her tongue, she asks the Captain something uses that same word “Læknir” and he responds with his correction:

“Healer.”

“Healer,” The woman finishes, you glance at the captain and give a small nod. She speaks to the captain again, speaks past you, you try not to take offense. You’re starting to get the feeling this woman isn’t used to people let alone talking to them.

“Need a translator?” Mactavish’s voice jolts you from your thoughts, too close beside your ear. He grins when you glare at him. The woman seems almost relieved to see him. She speaks to him now, and you hear him say it again:

“My catch, Völva, I’ll watch ‘em.” His eyes dart to you as you bristle. The woman, the Völva (you heard him use that word before, you file it as a proper noun, a title maybe), glances at you as well.

“You stay with -” She says a word and you frown.

“Soap,” Mactavish fills in, leaning to murmur it by your ear.

“Soap,” You confirm, “I’m staying with the lye.”

“You’re stayin’ with Mactavish,” The Captain tells you, no hint of amusement in his tone, it startles you still to hear your own tongue so proudly fallen from his lips.

“Not a proper name,” You grumble.

“Needed a bath when we caught ‘im.” The Captain sniffs, “If he’s smart he’ll give you one too.” You stiffen, any humor you may have found in the nickname lost with those words. You don’t look at Mactavish, at Soap. You keep your eyes on the Völva. She must understand that they can’t force you into lodgings with a man. She tips her head, smile blank. You can’t hold her gaze for long.

“You wanted responsibility,” The Captain pushes you towards Mactavish, “there it is, your catch, your watch.”

You suppose it makes sense, you stay with the person that caught you, but it still drops like a rock in your stomach. Mactavish may speak your language, but as far as you’re concerned he’s a viking through and through. You’re not safe with him, not safe in this village. Mactavish settles his hand on the small of your back, and leans close for a third time, his voice is softer but still rings like a death knell.

“Let’s go Vaenn,” He must take your hesitance for exhaustion because he adds, “it’s nae far, then ya can rest.”

You very much doubt that.

#x reader #cod x reader #x oc #cod x oc #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #slow burn #enemies to lovers #sort of #one sided crush #soap mw2 #soap cod #viking!soap #f!reader #oc: witch #captain john price #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #viking au

[sgt-seabass]

𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒅

✧˚ · . a collaboration between @navybrat817 and sgt-seabass

I just wanna see you bleed. Open you and set you free. (x)

pairing — bucky barnes x fem!reader w/c — 9.7k this is a dark fic. 18+ only. listening to —♫disaster

part of the Vengeance AU previous part - 𝑬𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅

warnings — bucky barnes is going through it, dark fic, the reader is having a hard time mentally (.... totally not self inserting heh), violence, slapping, spanking, use of a gun to threaten, non-consensual connotations and threats (nothing actually happens), mild mention of blood and injury, captivity, forced drugging via injection a/n — sorry this took so long. depression is a bitch. thank you navy for putting up with my delays!

The thing about love is that it comes with risks. And the biggest risk of all is loss, for a heart that does not yearn for another never truly knows the meaning of catastrophic loss until grief visits them. 

Love was still worth it to Bucky. Even with his wrenching heart and endless tears, the tenderness he shared with you was something that no one could steal or decimate. While the assailants had trashed your shared home, they could never take the memories - the feeling of your deft fingers brushing across his skin, the bright smiles you’d gift him, and the unwavering silent support that always held him upright. 

Bucky was a man because you motivated him to be his best self. He was no longer a ghost, a nightmare, a mirage of misery - he was human. 

You were gone. And there would be nothing stopping him from getting you back. 

It had been three days since you’d been taken, and frustratingly, Bucky felt no closer to finding you than the day when he’d first found the ruins of the apartment. He’d moved back into the tower with Alpine, taking up refuge in his old compound apartment. It was kept the same, like he’d never left. And he felt the same as when he’d lived there last – lost.

The whole team had become involved in finding you. You were family to all of them. And no one gets away with fucking with the family of the Avengers.

Bucky sighed and impatiently tapped his foot against the floor as he waited in the meeting room with Steve, Natasha, and Sam. Tony had been working on a reconstruction of what happened in the apartment since the security cameras were somehow turned off before the assailant’s arrival.

It was a planned hit; that much was clear. But they needed the rest of the details of what happened to know what they were looking at.

The room was silent. What could anyone say that hadn’t already been said? Bucky’s friends had already assured him they’d get you back safely, but those were empty promises said just to stop him from throwing himself off the top of the compound.

Bucky stared at the blank white wall ahead of him while his mind spiralled. This was his fault. If you were dead, that blood was on his hands. He should have known of the threat – had some inkling that this was coming. But he was completely blind-sighted. There was no indication that there was an incoming attack.

“Move the table to the side so we have room,” Tony commanded as he entered, his usual quips missing – quips that always made you laugh and smile, brightening the room with your aura.

“Hello to you too, Tony,” Sam said, assisting Bucky and Steve in pushing the meeting room table to the side so there was some floor space for Tony’s visualisation tool.

“Do you think she’s alive? Could she have survived the attack?” Were the first words out of Bucky’s mouth, his voice strained from the amount of crying he’d been doing.

“Yeah, I think she’s alive. Are you sure you want to see this, Barnes? It’s… It’s pretty brutal, even for your standards,” Tony sniped, earning a stern look from Steve. Bucky didn’t care, though; it was a fair enough jab when he’d been the one to kill Tony’s parents.

“Real smooth, Tony,” Natasha scoffed, crossing her arms.

Bucky set the awkward air aside. They weren’t going to get anywhere otherwise. “I need to see it.”

“Maybe you should wait outside, Buck—” Steve started, but Bucky raised his hand to shut him up.

“Don’t coddle me. I need to see it.”

Steve just put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze while Tony set up his small projection device.

Nothing could have prepared Bucky for the image that greeted him. There you were, or at least, an apparition of you. He wanted to reach out and touch it, but he held himself back. What he couldn’t stop were the tears that welled in his eyes. What if this was the last time he ever saw you? You already looked like a ghost in the odd blue hue of the technology.

Bucky gulped, his breaths coming out thick as you started moving from the bedroom to the shower. It played out like a macabre movie. Three assailants entered the apartment through the front door.

“They had keys?” Natasha asked, and Tony nodded in response.

Sam partially looked away when the assault began, Natasha and Steve’s faces hardening while Bucky had tears tracking down his cheeks. You fought hard, and Bucky couldn’t feel any prouder. You were his light – his fire, and you fought with every morsel of energy you had.

Tony was right – the ordeal was brutal and cruel. These men didn’t just kidnap you; they tormented you. This was personal.

“Any forensics?” Steve asked, his voice shaky.

“None. Whoever they are, they’re professionals,” Tony leant against the table. “And they clearly have a vendetta. Any enemies that stand out, Barnes?”

“Hydra is always top of the list.” Just the mention of the name had everyone in the room shuddering. Hydra had already done so much damage.

“Hydra fell when S.H.I.E.L.D did. They’re gone,” Sam reclined against the wall, hand rubbing nervously over his jaw, the same spot Rumlow had got a good hit on him during their fight at the Triskelion.

“You’re naive if you think that would get rid of them.” Natasha walked up to the projection, zooming in on the word you’d written on the ground. Blonde. “Although I don’t remember any of our known enemies being blonde.”

“Pierce was blonde.” Steve suggested.

Tony shook his head. “He was grey. And I highly doubt he’d be breaking into an apartment, seeing as he’s got a bullet-sized hole in his chest. Plus, he was an old fucker.”

Bucky forced himself to watch the whole recreation, eyes not straying for a moment as he searched for anything he was missing. It was a carefully executed but merciless attack. Tony was right; it seemed you’d survive physically, but what about your mind?

Bucky could hardly bear to think about what they were doing with you now they had you alone.

With you passed out on the floor, Bucky watched as the men bundled you up in a sheet to carry your bloody mess of a body out in. “There were no drag marks?”

Tony shrugged. “Nope. They carried her.” 

“Did no neighbours report anything?”

“It was early morning, so most had already left for work, and anyone who did see something aren’t coming forward. People these days aren’t keen on being a snitch since that puts a target on their backs,” Sam delivered sadly. To a degree, Bucky understood, but at the same time, he wanted to question every person in the damn building.

Realistically, his efforts would be better placed searching through viable intelligence sources. The more reliable the information, the better. These guys would have had to make some noise somewhere, and Bucky intended to find where.

“I’ll ask Maria to get the analysts onto where they might have gone. They’ll check every car that was spotted in the area if they have to. And we’ll see what we can get off the surrounding cell towers. If we’re lucky, they pinged off one of them. They can’t have just disappeared with her,” Natasha’s voice turned clinical. It was easier to be strategic without the emotional strings attached.

Steve nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Check all private flights and airspace as well. I expect they’ve left the country and gone somewhere harder to track. The fact they went to this effort and didn’t kill her outright means they have a use for her, which means she’s still alive.”

“Until that use runs out,” Bucky cut Steve off, his jaw twinging with how hard he clenched his teeth. “Then they’ll kill her.”

“We’ll find her before then, Buck.”

“We have to. She’s taken my heart with her.”

You’d been lucky in your life that you’d been sheltered from physical pain. You’d known grief, sadness, all the usual trials of life. But this level of absolute anguish was new. 

You were thankful you’d gone this long not knowing what it felt like to fear an impending death.

What even was death? An endless nothing? A light at the end of the tunnel? A world where you’re reunited with all those souls that had already left? Either way, it was the cessation of suffering. You can’t suffer when you don’t exist. 

Days had passed since your capture, and a routine had set in. In your dank, mossy-smelling cell, you ate, stretched, slept, shit, and brushed your teeth - a macabre rinse and repeat that had your mind dulling. You prided yourself in being creative, so having no stimuli apart from grey walls and odd smells was a special kind of torture.

Your captors left you alone for the most part. You only saw them when they delivered meals and your toothbrush, and even then, sometimes, they’d just slide the items through a small hatch in the bottom of the door, expecting you to return the items promptly.

Damien or Maddox would often leave with some snide remark, while Kage never said anything.

The thought of fighting back had crossed your mind, although you couldn’t do much with them watching, the blinking red light of a camera in the corner of your room a constant reminder that you were not alone.

Bucky would be closing in by now, right? Each time you heard steps coming to your enclosure, a morsel of hope would flourish like a blooming flower. And each time, those beautiful flowers had their heads sliced off. The disappointment was clear on your face each time, and a small whine would escape, normally ending in you devolving into a pit of tears.

Crying was the only solace. 

As the days had passed, you began to fear the opening of the door, because you expected death with his scythe and billowing black mist to be there waiting to cut off your head, like the way your hope had been deflowered.

Today was the same as all the others. Pain, tears, and acute loneliness all present. You sat on your cot with your legs to your chest, bandaged feet resting on the mattress so you could cry against your knees. Your wounds were healing slowly, bloody bandages changed by Kage each day, while your heart continued to break.

The wall vibrated subtly as music began playing upstairs, the reverberations traveling all the way down to your cell. You were underground, that much you had gathered. After your dinner, you would hear the music begin to play. You weren’t sure what they were doing up there, but you never heard any additional voices, so you assumed your captors were alone. Although, there could easily be a thick layer of concrete separating your roof from their floor, so you just might not be able to hear it.

All you did know was the music normally meant it was time to try and sleep. You had no sunlight, so you had to rely on the meals and music as your clock. You could have an opposite sleeping schedule for all you knew, but the men never said anything of it, so you assumed your intuition was right.

With a heavy sigh, you lay down, covered in an oversized t-shirt and cotton panties. It was cold, but with nothing more than a thin blanket, so you had no choice but to shiver and bear it.

The vibrations in the wall made a white noise that filled the room, and you preferred that over the silence. You couldn’t hear the music, so you liked to try to imagine what song it might be based on the tempo. 

You smiled to yourself as you placed your hand against the wall. Whatever it was, you knew Bucky would hate it. Deep bass beats were never his style. While you liked to imagine your boyfriend as John Wick, fighting along to electronic music, you knew the reality was far more grim. 

Thinking of Bucky, your eyes started to get heavy, and you slowly fell asleep.

It wasn’t a peaceful slumber, but it was rest - something you tried to get every chance you could. You didn’t know when you’d need your strength, so you tried to reserve it. 

And as it turned out, a situation requiring your strength was around the corner much sooner than you had expected.

The door to your cell swung open, and the loud sound had you shooting up with a squeak and wide eyes, no remnants of sleep in your mind as adrenaline surged through your veins. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight you’d be met with.

It was Damien who spoke first as they entered. “We caught ourselves a new pet. I have to say, this one seems much less fuckable than you.”

“Bucky,” you gasped, mostly in disbelief.

It wasn’t the rescue you’d dreamed of. Bucky hadn’t come in guns blazing and a smile of relief on his face.

No, Bucky was slumped, his metal shoulder being carried by Maddox and the other by Damien, while his legs dragged across the floor behind him and his arms were secured behind his back. He was dressed in his tactical gear like he’d come with the intention to save you. His face was bloodied and ashen, his hair sickly sticking to his forehead, and to your horror, there was a muzzle placed over the lower half of his face. You’d seen a picture of Bucky from when he was a soldier when you’d accidentally walked into a briefing room in the compound, his face scattered among others you didn’t recognise. But seeing him like that in the flesh was something else entirely.

You jumped up from the bed, ready to run to him, but Kage was by your side before you could act. He placed his hand on your collarbone, warning you to stay in place. “Your face is priceless.”

You couldn’t even feel the pain in your feet, as if the wounds were never there, as you whimpered at the sight of your lover.

“Bucky, are you alright? Bucky. Oh god.” You tried to move, but Kage’s hand gripped your forearm painfully, his digits digging in and leaving divots. Bucky tried to speak beneath the mask, but only muffled sounds came out. “No, please, don’t hurt him.”

“Bit late for that, don’t you think?” Maddox grinned, the pride clear as day on his face. “The mutt put up a fight, I’ll give it that. But it failed. That must really suck for you.”

They spoke like he wasn’t even a man. Not even a dog. Just an annoyance - a hindrance.

Damien and Maddox dumped Bucky on his knees a few steps from you. And that’s when he finally looked up. It was like he hadn’t wanted to accept that was your voice he heard, but once he set eyes on you, that was it. 

The dams broke, and both of you resolved into tears. “No, this isn’t real. This can’t be happening.”

“Oh, it’s happening.” Damien kicked Bucky’s back, sending him lurching forward, his cheek painfully hitting the concrete floor. The pained sounds that came from your boyfriend would haunt you for the rest of your life.

“Stop it!” You yelled, Bucky’s whimpers too much for you to handle. He was trying so desperately to speak, to move, but they’d beaten him badly and secured his metal arm away with vibranium cuffs. 

It didn’t stop him from trying though. Bucky rose to his feet, swinging his weight around so he could roundhouse kick towards Maddox and Damien. Maddox was faster though, pushing Damien out of the way and catching Bucky’s leg. 

There was a sick crunch when Maddox tripped Bucky’s stable left leg, his body buckling to the floor while Maddox held his right leg, allowing the joint at his hip to fold into an odd position before Bucky hit the floor on his side. He withered with a pained groan, while Damien took the chance to kick him in the stomach. It was like watching the most morbid film play out in front of you, and all you wanted to do was hold Bucky and tell him it was going to be okay. But the thing was, you never lied to him. And you had no plan to start now.

You tried desperately to wrench yourself from Kage’s grip, but instead he yanked your back to his chest, placing his arm across your belly so you were held uncomfortably against him. “He failed you. Do you think he still thinks this is all worth it? Or do you think he should have just left you to rot?” 

It was the most Kage had ever spoken to you, as if Bucky’s mere presence brought out a vitriol he kept hidden.

You shook your head, desperate to reject the baseless accusations. Even with his mouth covered, you could see in his expression alone the love Bucky held for you. You would never stop believing in him, even in death. “He hasn’t failed me,“ you gritted out, tears tracking down your cheeks. “He could never fail me.”

A sense of realisation took over you, the cogs turning as you looked upon your beaten lover. You’d wished for him to rescue you, to take you away from the pain and shield you from any further torment. But in doing so, you’d denied that Bucky was vulnerable - that he was the human you so dearly loved - made of flesh and blood and so dearly mortal. By placing him on the pedestal of a hero, you denied him his sensitivities, his feelings. You’d made him impuissant through your view of him as an impregnable force. You forgot that he is but a thing of atoms and material, so easily broken.

It was due to your expectations that he lay on the ground before you, bleeding and crying. Because he knew you were waiting for him. And here he was - just not in the way you had hoped. Now, hope was but a bird with broken wings, ready for death and the conclusion of existence. It was time for it to be put out of its acute misery. And it was time for you to mature and take responsibility for your future. 

“The only person who can save me is myself. It’s my path to take, not his,” your words came out shuddered, your hand raising to cover your mouth to try and hide your sob. It did little to muffle the sound as your eyes met the familiar cerulean blues. “Bucky. It’s fine.”

Damien pulled the muzzle from his face, and Bucky allowed a deep breath for what seemed like the first time in hours. “You have me, just let her go.”

Maddox laughed, shaking his head as he ruffled Bucky’s hair. “Trying to be noble, huh?” His fingers looped in the sweat-drenched strands, roughly pulling Bucky’s head back as he whimpered. “Do we look like we’re going to let her go?”

“She’s innocent in this, please,” Bucky begged, blood trickling down from his hairline as he squirmed on the cold floor. It was a painful, pitiful sight. “Keep me, but let her go.”

“Why would we when we can have some fun? She’s so pretty when she cries. The perfect toy for us to play with,” Kage husked, the hand on your stomach starting to dip lower towards your dignity.

You slapped his hand, an action which gained you a violent response. Kage threw you to your knees, the impact causing your bones to quiver and your cries to fill the room. You had to be strong, you had to be strong - the mantra didn’t help much as Bucky snarled protectively. “You touch her, and I’ll fucking kill you. I swear I’ll–”

“You keep running that mouth of yours, and it’s her we’ll punish,” Maddox gripped Bucky’s chin between his fingers, before spitting in his face.

“Please, I’m begging you. She’s just a normal girl, she’s innocent–”

“She’s not going to be so innocent when she has our cocks shoved down her throat.” Damien approached you, eyes raking your barely covered form. You stunk after days of not bathing, but that seemed like the least of their concerns.

“I can see why you picked her. She’s so much fun to have around.” Maddox forced Bucky’s viewline to you, arching his head on an awkward angle with the fingers tangled in his locks.

“You don’t own her,” Bucky rasped. “No one does.”

Maddox hummed with a shake of his head. ”That’s where you’re wrong. We all have our masters. Now we’re hers.”

"I will fucking kill you," Bucky snarled, trying to get off the floor, trying so desperately to fight. But he was easily subdued by Maddox in his weakened state.

Damien turned to your boyfriend with a smirk. "Not before we fill up each of her holes. So why don't you sit back and enjoy the show? Be a good boy now. Wouldn't want to have to muzzle you… again."

"We're going to enjoy breaking her," Maddox teased, his face getting close to Bucky’s, a staring contest of will beginning between the two. A contest that Bucky quickly lost when Maddox punched him in the gut. ”While you have your own appeal, I don’t fuck mutts.”

It was hard to process the scene playing out in front of you - the taunting, the threats, the hurt. It was too much to bear. You just wanted to be in Bucky’s arms again and have him tell you it was all okay.

But no, you had to be strong. “Please, don’t hurt him anymore. I’ll… I’ll do whatever you want.”

Kage held you firm, his free hand reaching up from behind to grab your jaw painfully. He didn’t speak, but you could feel his hot huff of breath against your ear, the remnants of a growl in it.

“You’ll do whatever we want regardless,” Damien commented, searching your face and soaking up all the emotion he could find.

Maddox left Bucky battered on the ground, but not without one more kick, this time to the underside of his jaw. Bucky’s head snapped back, a crack sounding as his teeth slammed together in the forced movement. 

You screamed, Kage and Damien’s hands beginning to roam across your body, feeling you like you were theirs. But it was like you couldn’t even see the three men anymore - just Bucky. Your vision had tunnelled to the focus on the one thing you cared about.

“Bucky! Are you alright? Bucky, please!” You couldn’t look away as his head lolled sickly, blood pouring from his mouth and nose. 

The hands keep moving over you, nausea roiling in your gut with each passing moment. But you still only focussed on Bucky. “Bucky, please. Bucky. You’ve got to get out of here. Somehow. Just go, please.”

The cell door was cracked open. He could logically make a run for it. But you knew he wouldn’t, not in his current state, and not without you. Maybe Steve was on his way? But you knew Bucky wouldn’t look so crestfallen if help was coming. 

“Please, Bucky.” You cried, not even sure what you were asking for at this point, all you could do was scream his name.

The more you yelled for him, the more you chanted his name like the only prayer you knew, the more the world began to warble. 

Bucky’s form began to waver, as did the rest of the room. Maddox, Damien and Kage had frozen in their assault, their skin rippling as your breath suddenly fell short.

What was happening? You couldn’t scream for Bucky anymore - you couldn’t do anything, as if your mouth had been glued shut.

As your tears fell and sobs bubbled from your throat, the world dissolved.

The nightmare was ending, allowing leeway for the real horrors to become apparent.

You woke for real this time with a jolt, your sounds muffled by the tape over your lips. You were sobbing just like you had been in your dream, and as you took stock of the room you quickly realised Bucky wasn’t here. It had been a horrible nightmare.

What was real, was Maddox towering over you, a roll of tape discarded on the ground and his gun to your head. He looked the angriest you’d ever seen, salivating and almost frothing at the mouth. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

The tears started falling faster as you screamed against the tape, but it did little to quell Maddox. He forced each end of the tape down, the gun in his hand coldly pressing against your cheek. 

“Say his name again, I dare you. I'm not going to cut your tongue out. I'll fucking rip it out,” he growled, his words mouthed against your face and over your bound lips. His spit smeared over your skin, the heat of it warming where the metal of the gun had cooled.

All you could smell, see and hear was him. It was an overwhelming sensation that had you wanting to escape.

You writhed, but you couldn’t get away from him as he caged you in, kissing over your mouth again in a show of control, not endearment. He could take what he wanted from you whenever he wanted. You screamed and squirmed, but Maddox held you in place before ripping the tape off, allowing you to finally breathe in the musky basement air. “This fucking mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble.”

“W-What did I—“ Your heart nearly broke through your ribcage with how hard it was beating as Maddox forced the barrel of his handgun into your mouth, the metal sitting against your tongue and leaving a horrible taste. 

The struggle stopped, and you looked into Maddox’s eyes. The malice was pertifying. It wasn’t the same look he’d had during the assault in your apartment; no. It was worse. He was going to kill you.

His thumb moved in one swift motion to click the safety off, his finger resting on the trigger. “Say goodbye.”

You closed your eyes, fear clutching your heart and what felt like concrete in your lungs. You didn’t want Maddox’s face to be the last thing you saw, so you thought of when you and Bucky had adopted Alpine.

She had been found on the streets as a stray, only a year old with matted hair and a little injured paw. You’d both fallen in love with her, and nursed her into the ball of chaotic floof she was today. You thought of the moment where you first brought her home. She stayed in her carrier after the door had opened, too scared to venture out. So you and Bucky sat on the floor, cuddling and talking while Alpine slowly came out, before sitting next to you both. It was so peaceful. Such a small moment changed the trajectory of your life. It was those pockets of happiness you cherished the most.

You waited for the bang, the flash, the quick pain before the nothingness. But it didn’t come.

Instead, you heard rushed steps and yells before Maddox was hauled off you, the brunette slipping the safety back on as he let the other two pull him back. 

“What the fuck?” Damien snapped, a commotion starting.

But it was like water was in your ears as you stared up at the ceiling from your bed, the chain secured around your ankle rattling with the way your body couldn’t stop shaking. Your arms covered your torso, and it took you what felt like forever to open your eyes.

“She was calling for him! For that bastard!” Maddox yelled, and it was then you turned your head to look at him.

“What, so you were going to kill her? Mads! Stop! We just got her!” Damien grabbed Maddox by the shoulders, shaking him like it would bring him to his senses.

"One simple fucking rule. Don't ask to go back to him. She was wailing like a fucking banshee."

Kage was the only controlled one, ushering Damien out of the way so he could take Maddox’s face into his hands. “You’re not back there. You’re not being compared to him, not being tested on. Stop. You’re here, and you almost just killed her.”

“She. Called. For. Him,” Maddox said through gritted teeth.

Damien glanced over at you, and it made you curl a little closer to the wall. "She didn't mean to, Mads. You know she didn't. Just breathe. Come on.”

It didn’t stop Maddox from spitting on the ground, his breaths coming out in adrenaline fueled shudders. “That piece of shit. I bet he bragged to her. I bet she fucking knows everything he did and is playing stupid.” With Kage holding him, his sightline turned to you. ”You’re pretending like you have no idea what he’s done, aren’t you? You dumb fucking bitch!”

“You know that’s not what’s happening,” Kage quickly reasoned with Maddox’s face still between his palms. It was clear there was a brother-like bond between the three of them. It would be nice, if the context of the situation didn’t exist. If anything, it made you more scared of them.

The fear had your body feeling frail, and it took you a few tries before you could sit up on your cot. “W-Whatever I did… I’m sorry. I don’t k-know what’s happening.”

Even you were caught off guard with the weakness in your voice, but the apology did nothing to appease Maddox. In fact, it incited the flame again. He broke free of Kage’s hold, and you didn’t have time to defend yourself before he smacked you hard across the face, the sound resonating like a sick echo in the cell.

The pain came a few seconds later, a sharp sting spreading across your face as you sobbed.

“You fucking bitch. You think this is funny, don’t you? Playing the innocent act just so you can fucking laugh at me once I’m gone.” He was trying to goad you into something you weren’t. You wore no mask, obscured no part of yourself. You were just you. And in a world where so many people lied and deceived, you could understand where the line of thought had come from. But Maddox couldn’t be more wrong about you.

What was it he had against Bucky anyway? There was clearly history you were missing, some big piece of the puzzle that had been hidden.

You didn’t get a chance to respond before Damien was tugging him back, taking the gun from him and pulling him away. “Mads, you’re triggered. That’s enough. You’re not yourself.”

For a moment, you could swear there were unshed tears in Maddox’s eyes, but didn’t get the chance to tell before Damien had pulled him from the room, leaving you alone with Kage.

There was a long silence for a moment, just your cries as your hand rested on your throbbing cheek, with Kage standing by in thought. He looked to you, his icy stare not helping you calm down. “I’m going to have to punish you.”

You could still hear Maddox yelling as you rubbed your cheek, and when Maddox’s voice finally faded you curled your knees up to your chest, your sobs shaking you. Maddox would have killed you if they hadn’t intervened, but now you were going to be punished. It was cruel. “What did I do?”

“You broke a rule. You called for him. Subconscious or not, every part of you has to learn the consequences.” Kage rolled up his sleeves, crossing his arms. It was clear his conviction was settled, and there would be no point bartering. “First, you’re going to shower. You’ve pissed yourself.”

Fresh tears filled your eyes when you looked down and realised Kage wasn’t lying. The sheets stuck uncomfortably to your legs and panties, the hem of your shirt soaked. You weren’t even sure when it happened, having been so caught up in the nightmare and then Maddox’s rage. Your fingers gripped the edge of the mattress, head hanging so you didn’t have to look at Kage.

Part of you wasn’t even sure if you were humiliated. They’d stripped you so bare you didn’t have much left, not even the dignity that would be hurt from something like this. More than anything, you cursed yourself for not being braver.

You had to hold your own if you were going to survive.

Words failed you when Kage took your arm to stand you up, and you didn’t say a word as he released your chains started to lead you from the room. 

It was a slow walk as you hobbled on your injured feet, but it was clear Kage had no intention of carrying you as he walked a few steps ahead. He’d let go of his hold, so confident that you’d follow him that he didn’t even look back. You knew he’d overpower you without even breaking a sweat if you tried anything, and you didn’t have the energy to fight.

You were surprised to see the underground was more than just your room, with a small hallway connecting you to a large shower room. You assumed there must be more cells, because there were multiple shower heads and a few random lockers. Almost as if it was a prisoner gym shower. It was odd, and you cautiously stepped forward.

Kage just ushered you towards the shower, crossing his arms as he watched you limp onto the tiled surface. You went to take off your bandages, but he cleared his throat and shook his head. Flustered, you moved to your shirt and underwear instead, turning away from him as you stripped bare and dumped the soiled clothing on the floor.

You cautiously stepped forward to turn the shower on, shuddering when the cold water began pouring out. There was only one tap, and no indication that the water was getting warmer, so you turned back to your captor. “There’s no hot water?”

There was no response from Kage, just a stare that told you all you needed to know, as if he was silently saying ‘get on with it’.

You shivered as you stood under the cold stream. When the water washed over your face, it was like you were back in your apartment all over again, and you let out a panicked gasp before stepping back.

The way your body shook wasn’t only from the cold.

With a bated breath, you glanced back at Kage. But he was no closer. He wasn’t going to pull you out, going to attack you, it seemed. The danger still loomed, memories of your assault fresh in your mind.

You returned to the water, washing yourself off as you could feel Kage’s gaze burning into you, as if he was studying each of your movements. He finally moved when the water shut itself off, pointing to a grey towel that was the same dull colour as the rest of the basement.

The last remaining water droplets blinked from your vision as you stepped forward, taking the towel and beginning to dry off. You glanced around, frowning when you saw there were no fresh clothes. 

“Uhm… clothes?” You asked hopefully, to which Kage shook his head. It wasn’t surprising, but it was upsetting.

As you ran the towel across your skin, you couldn’t rid of the nagging question that was plaguing your mind. “Why didn’t you just let him kill me?”

“He doesn’t need the guilt,” Kage finally spoke, but his answer only made your brows furrow.

“Why would he feel guilty for getting rid of someone who doesn’t matter?” It was conflicting information. They’d said you were nothing while in your apartment, and had treated you as such. But of course, you weren’t given an answer. Instead, Kage began leading you back to your room, your waterlogged bandages making it hard to walk. “What’s my punishment?”

Kage doesn’t answer, instead leaving you alone in your cell. “Strip the bed. I’ll be back.”

You gently rubbed your cheek where Maddox slapped you as you stared at the open door. You could run, but that would just worsen the situation. And you were in no condition to make it far.

Your gaze shifted to the blinking red light in the corner, staring into the black lens before snapping out of it and beginning to strip the bed as you were told. You kept replaying the events in your head, but it just didn’t make sense. You didn’t know why Maddox was so furious, and why Kage and Damien stopped him before he did any real damage. There was clearly something you were missing, but you were too fatigued to notice.

You used the sheets to soak up any remaining moisture from the mattress, which was covered with some sort of dark waterproof fabric. Unsure of what else to do, you placed the sheets by the bed.

With the sheets on the floor, you sat next to them on the cold concrete, waiting until Kage came back in with fresh bedding. He held it out to you, waiting for you to approach him with an air of impatience. You hoped your punishment was a simple as making the bed, but you knew you were in for worse at the hands of these men. 

It didn’t take Kage commanding you to put the fresh sheets on the bed, his eyes not leaving you for a moment. He let out a hum when you finished, before taking a seat. “Come here.”

You let out a shaky breath before you approached him. There was something so ominous about the blue shine to his eyes, like a full moon bearing its magnetic energy onto you. You couldn’t help but feel pulled towards him, like your legs moved before you could even think. When you got close enough, Kage took your wrist into his grip. There was a beat of silence for a moment before he yanked you down. You yelped as you fell, your stomach hitting his thighs as he bent you over his knees. It was a humiliating position. As if they hadn’t caused you enough shame.

As naked as the day you were born, you lay across his legs, your ass raised, and shoulders slumped. There was no escape. You were under no illusion that there was no way you could reasonably get out without help. And without Bucky, or any of your friends, you were stuck.

You felt as if you hadn’t slept at all, and tiredness nipped at the back of your eyes as you resigned yourself in his lap. He seemed pleased, a near silent grunt sounding as he rubbed circles over the globes of your ass.

When the first slap landed, you yelped, a sharp pain on your ass from the impact of his palm.

“One.” You heard him count under his breath, before the second spank hit. “Two.” Tears gathered in your eyes, small droplets hitting the ground below as the third hit landed. “Three.”

“Why?” You croaked out. “Why are you doing this?”

“Four.” Kage uttered, another slap hitting you and causing your body to jolt. Four. The counting continued despite your pleas, the pain worsening with each hit. He wasn’t holding back, and the pain began to elevate to the point where you felt as if your bones may shatter. Five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

“Please, I don’t understand. I’m sorry- I’m s-sorry I said his name. But I didn’t do it on purpose,” your words are mottled with sobs, and you turned back to look at him despite the way you had coiled around his thighs. “I don’t understand. Why do you hate him?”

Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty.

Kage’s icy glare met yours. In just a look alone he conveyed so much emotion, far more than words could ever express. There was anger and hurt all broiled up in a stew of self-pity. Twenty one, twenty two, twenty three, twenty four, twenty five, twenty six, twenty seven, twenty eight, twenty nine. His spanks didn’t stop, not even when your cries resounded off the walls like a ghoulish orchestra, your begs garbled with the agony coursing through you.

“Thirty,” he coldly said, his hand once against slapping against your abused ass. When he brought up his hand for another hit, he stopped. On his palm was little dots of blood. You whimpered at the sight of it, and his eyes narrowed. He’d been hitting you so hard he’d broken skin with the impact.

“Please, why? What’s going on?” You lamented, growing weary of his silence. “Just tell me. Why do you hate him? What did he do?”

Kage hit you again, more aggressive this time. You howled in pain as he held you still. His breaths came out in a huff as he calmed himself down. “Don’t act dumb. You’re his girlfriend. You know what he’s done.”

“I don’t!” You rebutted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Kage’s steel blue eyes flashed with something dangerous, his hand rubbing circles on your skin and smearing your blood across your flesh. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” You were genuine, and Kage’s eyes narrowed as he considered you. “I’m sure you did some research before taking me. I’m just a girl.”

”What, your boyfriend didn’t brag of the lives he ruined? How he ruined our lives. We’re orphaned freaks because of him. Because the Asset couldn’t just do his fucking mission. But he had no problem doing his job just fine when he trained us, when he beat us to a bloody pulp making us wish were dead. Over and over and over again. Hydra’s fist hits fucking hard. And he leaves behind nothing but lost souls.” It’s the most you’ve heard Kage speak, but what he’s saying makes no sense to you. “The Asset doesn’t care about the wreckage he leaves behind as long as he’s happy – as long as he can continue on with his pathetic life.”

Bucky ruined lives? The surprise and confusion on your face said it all. From what you knew, he didn’t do anything. He was a prisoner of war, he was a soldier, but his involvement with Hydra was news to you. The most you’d heard of the organisation was from reports when the triskelion fell. It was broadcast everywhere. “He didn’t tell me anything. I only know who Hydra are from the news.”

Kage let out a dark, mocking chuckle. "Stop lying."

"I'm not! I swear. He never told me. He doesn't tell anything about his missions either. H-He said he couldn't. That it was safer that way." You remembered the first time Bucky came home from a mission. He was covered in soot and a mess. Being naive, you asked him what happened, and it was then you realised it was better for you not to know. The horrors of the world were not for your eyes… until now.

Kage’s fingers gripped into the plushness of your ass. ”But you’ve been to the compound.”

“As a guest - a friend. Never when a mission was happening.” You sobbed, your brain spinning in circles at the new revelations. “I’ve been there for dinner or parties. Nothing else.”

His nails made divots in your skin as he gripped you. "You really had no idea?"

"No, I didn't. And I'm sorry. For all of you," you hiccupped. You couldn't lie about that. Losing family is never easy. "I didn't know."

Kage didn’t seem convinced. ”But you know of Hydra?”

You shrugged best you could over his knee. “Sort of. N-Not really. I just saw the news when those big helicopter things crashed - uh, helicarriers?” You let out a shuddered sigh. “The news said Hydra was behind it.”

His fingers eased, moving to rub over the sensitised skin. ”Did you read the documents that were leaked?”

You shook your head, tears dropping to the floor. “No, why would I do that? I didn’t need an existential crisis. I get stressed enough about everyday news, like a mugger or a cat stuck in a tree.”

"So he kept you in a bubble," he said after a moment, more to himself than to you. "If you're lying—"

"I'm not," you promised, almost dissolving into more tears. "I swear to you. All of you. I have no reason to lie to you."

There was a beat of silence while your mind ran a million miles an hour. Bucky was a prisoner of war, you knew that – the world knew that. But… he was with Hydra? You pursed your lips. There was no way he would have been with them willingly. He was a prisoner of Hydra, you surmised. He’d made comments in the past about never being in control until now – always being ordered around by someone else. Admittedly, you hadn’t taken it as literal. A soldier takes orders, but this – this seems entirely different. There’s no way Bucky would hurt someone unprovoked, not unless he was being controlled. The man you loved was no villain.

Kage broke the silence. ”Do you resent him for not telling you?”

A heavy sigh left you, pain still flickering up your spine from your abused ass. “It’s his story. I’m not the one who can decide when it’s time to tell it.”

"But he's the reason you're here,” Kage said as his hand ran up your back before reaching your shoulders, pulling you up and guiding you to sit in his lap.

You whimpered at the pressure on your bruised skin as you sat on Kage’s thighs. "Better me than another innocent person."

Kage’s face was close to yours, his breath fanning across your skin. ”You wouldn’t trade places with someone else?”

You tried to move back, to get some distance, but Kage held you firm. “No. I couldn’t bring myself to subject someone else to this kind of pain.”

He seemed to be searching for something in your eyes. "You don't like others hurting, do you?"

The question surprised you. "No, I don't. I've always tried to help others if I can."

Your answer has the air in the room changing, some of the coldness turning a bit warmer as Kage brushed away some of your tears. Your blood was still on his hands, and you eyed the redness of his fingers as he touched your face.

A tremble coursed through you when you heard footsteps approaching, and your attention turned to the doorway, where Damien emerged with a salve, some wipes and fresh clothes.

His expression had changed too. Where there was anger was now a new understanding. They really thought you knew what they’d been through, you realised. You glanced between the two men, uncomfortable and distressed. Their anger was ruthless, but you feared whatever this was more. Kage’s hands over your waist were firm, but with an edge of gentleness.

You didn’t want them to like you.

Maybe you should have just lied and said you knew. But that wasn’t you. You weren’t deceptive.

Kage lifted you easily, placing you face down on your cot, your face wetting the fresh sheets below you as you cried. The overstimulation of your body and mind hit like a freight train, and you sobbed like never before.

“Jesus, try to calm down. You’ll make yourself sick,” Damien tried to placate as he sat next to you, wiping away your blood before beginning to apply some ointment to your battered skin. “You really did a number, Kage.”

You glance over at the blonde, and he didn’t seem proud of himself. Quite the opposite. His jaw clenched. “Shut up.”

“Hey hey, I’m just trying to break the tension here.” Damien kept applying the ointment until your welts were covered. “You took your punishment well.”

You think he’s trying to compliment you, so you respond with your head buried in the sheets. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he quickly responded before finishing up.

Your mournful cries didn’t stop, and they only got worse when Kage and Damien finally left, leaving you alone. You dressed yourself in the plain tshirt and panties, before it all became too much and returned to the bed.

All your bottled-up emotions spilled out into the mattress. You screamed, your sounds muffled by the bedding, not stopping until your throat hurt and your voice was course.

The more emotion you let out, the more fatigued you became. And slowly, you began to pass out, crying yourself to sleep. All you could hope was this sleep was more restful, and less eventful than the last.

Thankfully, you didn’t dream this time. Your rest was no more than a limbo between horrors – horrors which seemed very intent on continuing, with Maddox stood with his arms crossed, watching you slumber as he leaned against the open doorframe. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

You nearly jumped through the ceiling in fright at the sight of him, your whole body flinching as you sat up, your bruised ass instantly sore from the movement. “You didn’t.”

“Good.” He tilted his head, the anger he’d been sporting gone behind his normal demure expression. “So, I had a chat with the guys. Look, we thought you knew all about us. And now we realise you really are innocent in all this. We feel a bit bad about the whole situation, so we’re going to let you go home.”

It sounded like a foreign language as Maddox spoke, your heart skipping a beat. “You’re going to let me go?”

“Seems only fair. I think we’ve put you through enough,” Maddox shrugged nonchalantly.

“But you were so angry,” you cautiously observed Maddox. It felt like a trick, and it likely was one, but you couldn’t help the desire that smouldered in your heart. You could go home. More than anything you just desired to be comfortable in your own bed again, with your cat and the love of your life.

Maddox pushed himself off the doorframe and approached, the movement making you shuffle back on the mattress. He chuckled, shaking his head at your scurrying. “I have no intent of hurting you.”

“Surely you can’t blame me for being afraid,” you squeaked as he towered over you.

“Oh, not at all. I’ve given you more than enough reason. But here, truce?” Maddox offered his open palm for you to take, to help you stand. You stared at his hand for a moment, taking in the scarred skin. It looked like he held the sharp end of a knife more than once. They weren’t kidding about having been through pain.

Anxiety was a thick sludge in your throat as you placed your hand in his, allowing him to be a crutch for you as you got onto your feet. Your entire backside hurt like something fierce with each movement, but you tried to not show it too much on your face.

“Kage really let you have it, huh?” Maddox grinned, leading you out of the door and to the left, where Kage and Damien stood at the bottom of concrete stairs.

“Ready to go home?” Kage said as Damien took your free hand in his.

“Yes,” you blurted out honestly. “Are you… are you really going to let me go?”

“Of course. We may be assholes, but we’re not liars,” Damien chided, the warmth from his skin heating your hand.

“What about Bu– I mean, my boyfriend?” You questioned, making wobbly steps up the stairs towards what looked to be a basement door. Your suspicions were right - you were underground.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about him. That’s our business to attend to,” Maddox grinned, but it was akin to a shark showing their teeth. There was danger in the way he spoke.

Distracted, you missed a step, but they were quick to catch you, all giving out a soft laugh before you made your way to the top of the stairs.

You had guessed that you were underground. What you hadn’t expected was that you were under a house. You emerged into an open-plan living room and kitchen with a rustic aesthetic. 

“Do you like it?” Damien asked proudly. Clearly, he owned this place.

“... It’s nice.” You placated, taking your hand out of both Maddox and Damien’s grip. “I can.. just go?”

“Yes. Off you go. There’s a car outside waiting for you,” Damien said, and you could feel the soft rumble of a running engine through the floorboards.

You glanced back at the men, each of them looking expectantly at you. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation before you turned around and bolted for the front door, despite your body hating every moment. Your feet were still healing, and with your bruised muscles, it was torture. But you wanted out. No, you needed out.

You reached the front door quickly, and when you turned the knob, your eyes went wide. It was locked tight. There were multiple bolts on the door, which all seemed unlocked, but when you looked down, you realised the front door had a finger scanner. 

Reality began to set in when you placed your finger on the door and were met with a red flash and beeping. Access denied. “No... No, no, no. Not like this.”

You went to turn, but before you could, there was a sharp prick to your neck as one of the men plunged a needle into you. It became clear Maddox was your assailant as your legs went numb, and you tumbled to the ground with a gasp, seeing him standing behind you with dark eyes. Whatever the contents of the syringe were acted quickly, an odd floaty feeling spreading across your body as you lost control of your functions, your body stuck on its front on the cold hardwoods.

Their laughter became distorted as your brain fizzled, but you didn’t pass out. No, whatever they’d given you was keeping you awake, forced to watch as they circled your limp body. “She made it further than I thought she would with her injuries,” Damien smirked as he poked your side with his shoe.

“It’s cute in an utterly pathetic way.” Maddox used his boot to roll you onto your back before leaning down near your head. “Aw, is someone feeling a bit sleepy?” Unable to coil away, Maddox spit in your face with a cruel laugh. “C’mon, wake up, it’s playtime.”

Kage was next to torment you as you tried to roll yourself back onto your stomach to crawl away. His boot pressed painfully into your stomach, the steel tip digging in just below your ribcage. “Knock my foot away. Try it.”

You whined as you tried to use your arms to push him away, but you couldn’t. Your arms were like jelly.

“Mm, as fun as this is, we gotta move.” Maddox sighed as he straightened up, discarding the used needle out of your sightline.

You managed to get onto your stomach with Kage backing off, but all you could do was whimper as hands gripped your ankles, dragging you across the hardwoods and out the front door, your nose banging on the solid surface as you tried to dig your nails into the floor, but you had no strength left.

Your drool and blood from your now bleeding nose created a trail across the floor. At least if anyone found this home, there’d be evidence that you existed, your DNA staining the wood.

“Should we change her?” Damien asked, and from his voice, you could tell he was the one dragging you.

“She’ll be warm enough,” Maddox watched from the side as you were dragged to the porch stairs.

“God, she’s not going to piss in my car, is she?” Damien complained as Kage slung you over his shoulder, your body like a ragdoll, as he lifted you with scary ease.

“Just wrap a towel around her ass. It’ll do.” Maddox began putting bags in the back seat of the SUV parked outside.

Damien began to help him, but not without continuing to complain. “Just watch it. She already bled on my floor.”

Maddox laughed. “She bled all over her apartment and you didn’t even blink.”

“But that wasn’t my apartment,” Damien argued, a playful irritation in his tone.

They were having fun while tear droplets hit the gravel below you.

Maddox wasn’t giving up, though. ”You’re so materialistic sometimes, Dami.”

”When you pay for shit you can be too, Mads. Oh wait, you don’t pay for anything.”

”I’ve saved your ass enough times for payment.”

Kage sighed, his hand resting on your exposed ass. ”Would you two just shut up and help me get her in the car? I can do it myself, but then I’ll make sure blood and piss gets everywhere.”

Maddox sighed, too. "Yeah, yeah. Gimme a second. You leave the present in her cell?"

"Yeah. They'll find it."

You tried to speak, but only a groan came out. 

"Try not to talk. It won't do you any good.” Kage said as Maddox helped him haul you into the trunk of the car.

”At first, we couldn’t get you to talk, and now you won’t shut up.” Maddox started to wrap a towel around your lower half. "Just put some music on and drown her out."

“You… lied…” You managed to get out amongst your drooling whimpers.

Kage leaned in, his hand caressing your cheek. “We didn’t. You are going home.”

“Just not to the home you hoped for,” Maddox chimed in, derisively patting your thigh. “Rest up, babydoll. There’s a long journey ahead of us yet.”

Kage and Maddox pulled back, and their faces were the last thing you saw before the boot was slammed shut, and you were covered in darkness.

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[jiveyuncle]

Keith keeps popping up in unexpected places.

He appears in the mirror as the scar on Lance's upper lip, acquired the time Keith shoved him down behind a barricade and the butt of his own rifle clocked him in the face. The move had saved Lance's ass, but it still hadn't stopped him from chewing Keith's ear off post-battle for “damaging one of the team's greatest assets.” What did stop him mid-rant, words grinding to a halt on his tongue, was the annoyed huff of, “Don't worry, you're still pretty.” For, like, half a second anyway, before Lance’s brain caught up and he realized Keith was being sarcastic and was definitely insulting him. Lance's hellraising started up with renewed vigor.

Keith appears in the boots that peek up at Lance from the squeaky cabinet of his wardrobe, left behind because Keith was too concerned about waking him the morning he headed out to pick up the Blade member that would eventually kill him.

He lingers in the seventh plate that sits empty at the set dinner table, the one placed there out of habit, then left there as they ate because getting up to put it away felt wrong.

He's in the long dark hairs Lance rolls over in the morning to find stuck to the bedsheets.

He's in the scuff marks on the training deck floor and the sweat that drips down Lance's temple as he increases the bot's fighting difficulty.

He's in the face of the Red Lion - the ship that solidified Keith's place on the team, the place it ended, the spot Lance has to fill.

And when Lance finally makes his way to Red’s cockpit out of his own volition, for Red’s sake, closing his eyes and reaching out to her to offer support in their mutual grief, he finds Keith, again, in the familiarity of the mind link. As Lance’s bond tugs Red’s consciousness to him, he feels her ghost over him. He lets out a shuddering breath. The connection allows the lions and their pilots to communicate and understand one another while also granting them the ability to sense their teammates when they’re bonded in their respective cockpits. It’s welcome - the shared connections are comforting during long flights and necessary in battle. Lance dreams of it when he’s asleep, launches himself from his covers when he feels Keith’s energy flow over him and twine with his, wonders why he never felt the connection break when a blade was dragged across his throat.

Then, Lance’s lungs constrict, freezing the breath halfway into his chest, and his fingers curl tighter around Red’s control arms. A phantom connection whispers along the hairs at the nape of his neck, a specific hum of energy he never anticipated feeling brush against his own ever again.

Blue eyes snap open to take in familiar grey ones staring back, heart seizing at the sight of a mouth set in that stubborn, concentrated frown that says less about its wearer’s emotional state and everything about the intensity of his focus. Slowly, the frown softens, and then turns up gently at the corners.

Keith sighs and leans back against the viewing monitors. “Hey.”

Dead Keith/Red Paladin Lance AU (Part 3/?)

So much of this story is not going to be told linearly and is mostly just a bunch of scenes that are fun for me, but this part felt necessary to share before I start bouncing around.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

You can now read this on AO3 as:

Empty Spaces You Left Behind

#klance #keith kogane #lance mcclain #voltron legendary defender #voltron #vld #fanart #fanfic #red paladin lance #dead keith red paladin lance au #major character death #closing my eyes and hitting post

[okkotsuus]

only the good die young (hsr) ★

features: blade. jing yuan.

contents: tw. major character death. descriptions of pain. descriptions of blood. grief. reader death. descriptions of stabbing. 0.5k words.

blade didn't know what to do. in his obsessive fervor to find his own death he had never thought that he would find yours first. he would never think that he would see you splayed along the floor, a bloody trail left from where the antimatter legion monster had dragged you. he just stared, for a long time he stared. even when the void rangers began to slash at him, he just stared. blood dripped down from his form, pooling to meet your own (which was spattered so violently across the ship's walls). suddenly, blade shouted. it was deep and throaty as his voice cracked, he started fighting the monsters with his bare hands, not even wanting to provide them the quick demise that came with his sword. he didn't even realize the tears that had managed to fall, assuming the warm liquid was just blood. he didn't stop until every monster way dead, his chest heaving up and down as he stood. he didn't move for a long time, he just stood there; in shock. slowly, he picked up his sword and walked away, dragging it along the ground as it left a deep scratching trail as he went. blade didn't know what to do.

jing yuan felt a part of him die. as he watched the blade of a mara stricken soldier pierce through your stomach he felt his heart stop. 'no, not again' was all that he could think as he ran from his fight to catch your falling figure. the goodbye was brief; you reaching a hand up to rest on his cheek, a hushed "goodbye" and a cried out "i love you." he just sat there, holding you close, tears slipping down his cheeks. the lightning lord acted on its own, slashing down any foolish enemy that dared to get close. it was hard even for the cloud knights to take you, he simply would not let go. he was far stronger than every other soldier, it took him being knocked out for them to remove your body, to properly deal with you so you would not be afflicted with the curse of mara. jing yuan woke up and immediately reached for you, thinking he was waking up in your shared bed. when he met empty space, the memory returned and he simply sobbed. he spent one day mourning you completely, didn't leave the house, didn't eat. the next day, he was back on duty. but everyone could tell from the bags under his eyes and the grit in his voice that he would never truly finish mourning you.

© okkotsuus 23

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr x you #blade #blade x reader #blade x you #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #hsr blade #hsr jing yuan #honkai star rail angst #hsr angst #blade angst #jing yuan angst

[theirnamesarekiklo]

could u pleasee write a pt 2 to cold where they just .. grieve :’) and maybe you could weave bits of the reader in the story through flashbacks so we could get to know them? ^^

Empty Space (Cold pt2)

As it sets in, everyone has their own way of coping.

pairing: Sully Family x !Twin Sister! Reader

A/N: I wrote this in like a couple of hours I’m not sure if it’s good but I hope it is! 💔

Sitting on the sandy beach, lo’ak felt the breeze run through and past his hair. After a particularly tough day, the setting sun was his favorite thing to see. Closing his eyes, he breathed through his nose, already feeling the bubbling grief coming back up. Although times like these were pleasant, they left him stuck in his head, stuck in his thoughts. It’s been a week since she left, and it’s been racking the entire family down to sad glances and tight hugs as if the other would disappear just as she did.

¨What are you doing out here so late?”

Her voice was clear as day, a haunting memory. Quiet steps stopped right behind him, waiting for a response. She always knew. She, without fail, consistently saw the sad twinkle in his eye and always felt like the silence in his sentences hung far too long in the air for her liking. If it were up to her, she would have already begun comforting him before returning home, but she can’t force him to speak up, and she knows he certainly always will.

Turning his head, the only thing he saw was not her. Scoffing, he buried his head in his hands. He was going insane as the minutes ticked by, and his mind was suddenly catching up. Letting out a gentle whimper, he bit his lip, stopping it from quivering. He wasn’t sure what was worse—not feeling her soft gaze from across the room as she mouthed little motivations or not feeling her soul in his heart. Scrunching up his eyebrows, keeping the tears at bay, he looked at his family’s Marui pod. Ever since the funeral, he hasn’t spent more than an hour inside his home, fearing that if he took one glance at the places she spent most of her time at, he would break down and possibly do unspeakable acts that even she would frown at.

Slumping down, he succumbed to the feeling and let out tiny cries, mumbling her name between a few.

•~•

Neteyam, pushing past a couple of boys, even bumping shoulders with one, rolled his eyes as some started yelling insults at his back. Wincing at a stab of pain from his hip, he kept walking with the sack of fruits on his back. While the rest of his family either closed themselves off or spent the day growing softer, he grew angrier. He wasn’t sure what he was mad at, but he was confident that most of it was directed toward himself. If only he had run a bit faster, he would have missed it entirely and might’ve saved her.

Deciding that the throbbing wound had been annoying enough, he threw the bag on the ground. Grunting as he sat down, he noticed the eclipse coming faster than he had hoped. He planned to work outside for a while before returning home to help his mother with dinner. Taking a risky glance at his chest, her necklace sat comfortably around his neck. Before the funeral, he managed to keep it as a piece of love, but it only became a constant reminder that he wasn’t there again.

He remembers her weaving this necklace for about two days before she finished it. He had joked about wanting it for himself, and despite it being her favorite piece of jewelry, she only told him that one day it would be his. The only issue was that he expected it to be a while before it was his. Maybe she would have given it to him on his birthday, or maybe after their father had yelled at him quite angrily for something that wasn’t even his fault.

Frowning at how dull it looked now, he puffed out a breath, looking at his destination before he quickly got up and walked a bit faster this time, avoiding the pitiful stares he got from the others.

•~•

Although there had been conversations, silence spoke more than they had in the past hour. Kiri kept her gaze on tuk’s hair, avoiding her mother’s stare. She had been there; she had watched her sister die. She wondered how her brother was holding up. They were always the closest. His twin contained him just like a cup would do with water.

On the other hand, Tuk had barely registered that her sister had died a couple of days ago. Since then, she opted to sleep in the same position her sister had, feeling just a tad bit closer to her even though the truth was that she was very, very far away. She always left places with lingering gazes thinking, ¨She would like this, ¨ before smiling and walking away. Just as she did when she was here, she found comfort in her older sister.

•~•

Dinner had been relatively silent as Neytiri tried getting a couple of responses to her questions about everyone´s day. As night pooled into their home, Jake lay wide awake, eyebags much more prominent now as he desperately wished to fall asleep without waking up to a gut-wrenching nightmare from that day. He felt like something inside him had died, and it lay there clawing for a way out.

Every time he looked at lo´ak, it was like a punch to the gut. He looked so much like her, and now as he wore beads from a necklace she once wore in an armband, it simply became worse. The night she died, he spent almost every moment alone crying. Her voice, laughter, giggles, and even her scoldings replayed in his mind every second of the day despite his angry promises that he would stop thinking about his sweet, sweet girl.

¨Jake.¨

Flinching a bit at her sudden appearance, although she had been there all this time, he only felt like curling more into himself.

¨We need to le-¨

¨Every time I stare at the water, I see how scared she looked on that boat, Neytiri.¨ sharply sucking a breath in between her teeth, she sadly frowned at how she indeed saw the expression on her daughter´s face. As she held that bow with just as much confidence as she always had, her face and quivering hands gave it away, but Quaritch never noticed.

As much as Jake hated seeing how his daughter looked like her opposite, he felt guilty for feeling just a tiny bit terrified of the kid he knew to cry whenever she found a dead insect on her daily trek through the forest. Still, at that moment, he knew her as the girl who had fought three fully grown boys for simply insulting her.

Whenever he closed his eyes, he only saw how much anger she held in her eyes despite her hair covering quite a bit of her face from possibly the worst fight of her life. The snarl coming out of her as Quaritch pressed the knife just a bit deeper into her sister´s skin was engraved into his head.

Neytiri, fighting back a couple of tears at how badly this death affected them all, only took a deep breath and moved closer to her husband, who shook with quiet sobs. Her daughter was gone, and nothing was the same anymore.

#jake sully x daughter!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #neteyam x sister!reader #loak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader #tuk x sister!reader #avatar twow

[peachinthenight]

Embers

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Rated: M

Read on AO3

Warnings: PiV smut, oral (f receiving), bruce being a mcr fan

Summary: Every day, you learn more and more about your boyfriend. Today, you learn he is quite a musician. 3.5k words

You had an awful day at work, and you were glad to be back at home. To your surprise, instead of silence, you were greeted by the sound of a piano. It sounded like it was being played live. You didn’t even know there was a piano in Wayne Tower. The sound took you into a room you had never been in before. There were several rooms you had never gone in before.

The master bedroom had been untouched since Martha and Thomas’ passing. Martha had a room dedicated to her hobbies. Sewing, knitting, and crocheting, while Thomas had an office he used.

And while you were never explicitly told not to go into them, you’ve never seen anyone go into those rooms, so you took that as a silent rule that they were off-limits. You didn’t mind though, you sympathized with Bruce’s grief. They weren’t just rooms, they were memorials. The sound of the piano led you to one of these rooms, in a desolate hallway away from the room you shared with Bruce. The door was ajar, and you couldn’t help your curiosity. You peeked.

The room was a study, with bookcases lining the walls, going right up to the high ceilings. There was a rich mahogany desk, a small sitting area around a fireplace.

And a grand piano. With your boyfriend sitting on the piano bench, playing almost… passionately.

The song was familiar, but you couldn’t quite place it.

His long fingers move effortlessly across the keys as if he’s played this song a hundred times before.

You open the door more and enter the room, but Bruce is so focused on playing, he doesn’t even notice you.

Usually, he is astute, and you’ve never gotten the drop on Bruce before.

The floors creak beneath you, yet he still doesn’t notice.

Under normal circumstances, it would have been tempting to try and scare Bruce. You knew you’d be able to do it. You were now standing right behind him, and he didn’t notice. But there was something about how he moved and how his fingers glided across the keys. The way he was completely absorbed in playing the emotional song. As the sound of the rich piano filled the air, you realized something.

Your nerd ass boyfriend was playing a piano rendition of Helena by My Chemical Romance. A smile played on your lips. God. You were so in love with him.

It was clear this song meant something to him. You knew that music was deeply personal for Bruce, and this seemed to be no different.

Finally, the song reaches its beautiful end. Bruce’s fingers trail away from the keys, and his head turns slightly towards you, he lets out a breath. You can’t tell if he’s startled by your presence or not.

“Hey,” he greets quietly.

“Hi,” you greeted, approaching his side. He looks back at the piano. You put your hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t know you could play.”

He chuckles and nods slowly, “I play. I play when I’m stressed.” His fingers tap on the top of the piano idly, thumbing a few keys. “You can sit… if you’d like?” He gestures to the empty spot on the piano bench.

Bruce was a fairly large man, but you had no problems invading his personal space. You slid into the spot next to him. Leg against leg, shoulder against shoulder.

“You’re stressed?” You asked, and then internally cringed. You couldn’t believe that just left your mouth. Of course, he’s stressed.

“I am,” he sighs, letting out a breath of frustration. “Someone keeps leaving bombs around Gotham.” He rubs his thumb over the piano key.

Bruce stares at the floor, and then turns to look over at you, his mouth turning up into a small smile, “It’s nice to have you here, though.”

You take one of his hands, and you lace your fingers with his. You brought the back of his hand up to your lips, and you gave his hand a soft kiss.

“I’ll always be here for you,” you said quietly, looking into his eyes. Bruce’s pale face had a bit of color in his cheeks now.

A simple kiss to his hand was enough to leave Veangence himself flustered. You’d never say this to his face, but Bruce was so cute.

“How long have you played the piano?” You asked.

“A while." He tore his eyes from yours, and he looked back at the grand piano the two of you were sitting at. “My mom used to teach me when I was young.” As he speaks, he plays some idle notes on the black and white keys, nothing coherent, just simple notes. "It's helpful for when I'm working through something, you know?"

“Yeah,” you said. Everyone needed a way to work through their emotions. You thought that Bruce’s way was dressing up as a bat and beating up criminals, but it seemed like there were still layers of Bruce to uncover. Perhaps the piano was a way for him to feel close to his mother. Or maybe it was just something to do. "She must have been talented," you commented, unsure of what else to say.

Bruce nodded, “Very.” His voice is soft, but his tone reflects his affection for his parents. He took a breath as he let his fingers rest on the piano again, “You play anything?”

“No.” You responded. “Well. I played cello for a few years in high school but— I wasn’t really good at it,” you chuckled. “Plus they’re an expensive instrument.”

Bruce gave you a smile. “The cello is an interesting choice,” he commented. “What do you like about it?” He was genuinely curious about what his girlfriend was interested in, even if it was just an offhand comment.

“I was enthralled by the deep and melancholic sound of it,” you told him, reaching out and pressing a white key on the piano. It was silent for a few moments, and you remembered an experience as a child. Your father had won tickets to the orchestra, and your mother wasn’t able to take off, so your dad took you. You could remember dressing up in a pretty dress, your father trying his best at styling your hair. You could remember the beautiful music and the pretty musicians. You could remember being in awe of it all.

“Also when I was a kid, my family went to the Gotham Orchestra and the cello player was really cute,” you said as fragments of the memory played in your head. “Had a bit of a schoolgirl crush.”

Bruce laid his head on your shoulder. “You have a thing for musicians?”

“Apparently,” you responded, a smile on your lips.

Bruce chuckled. “That’s good to know.”

Another several moments pass, and Bruce turns to you. Your eyes go from the smooth black-and-white keys of the piano to Bruce’s stunning blue eyes.

“I love you,” he blurted out. He looked surprised that he even said it. You laughed.

“I love you too,” you said, leaning in to press a tender kiss against his lips. Bruce turned his body more towards you, he put his hand against the case of the piano.

Bruce’s lips linger against yours, even after the two of you parted.

The taste of your lips, your smell, every part of you seems to have an effect on him. He feels like he’s floating, like he’s falling down a rabbit hole of feelings and emotions and he can't stop himself. He wants to tell you he loves you again and again.

And so he does.

“I love you,” he said again.

You delicately touch his jaw, gently holding it in your hand, as if he were made of glass.

“I love you more,” you said, a giddy feeling rising up in your chest as if you were a young girl with your first crush.

Bruce smiled at you, an almost boyish smile. “Oh yeah?” He responded, a teasing look in his eyes, which flicked down to look at your lips, then back up to your eyes. “I’m not so sure about that,” He trails off, taking deep breaths as he struggles to focus, his blue eyes watching your lips, wanting them again.

His intensity caused your heartbeat to quicken, hammering hard against your chest. Even after living with him, he still made you nervous in the best way.

“I am,” you respond.

Bruce leaned down, bringing his lips down to yours, firm and eager. His mouth moved onto her like a man in a desert, greedy for any type of moisture, and he wants to devour her.

The world around him faded into nothing, and all he can focus on is you. Your taste on his lips, and the way you sound with his hands on you, the two of them lost in the other. He held you close and only wants to get closer. He only wants to be here in this moment, with you.

His kiss invoked a feeling inside of you, so passionate that it made you want to burst. He tilts your head back, his large hand on your jaw, the tips of his fingers in your hair. Your lips part for him, his tongue slipping into your mouth, stealing away your breath. You’re completely lost in the moment, lost in the way he touched you, the way he kissed you. The way the ends of his hair tickled your face as he kissed you.

You bumped into the keyboard, your arm pressing down on a few keys, pulling you out of the moment, out of the kiss. You broke the kiss off to look at the piano, but Bruce guides your head back to him, back to his lips.

Bruce just can’t get enough of you. His lips move from your lips to your cheek, then your jaw. He leaves a trail of kisses to your neck. Bruce whispers your name with reverence.

“Bruce,” you said, your voice an octave higher than normal. “I—I want to hear another song,” you whispered to him. You wanted to know everything about Bruce. You wanted to know more about this room you’ve never been in; you wanted to know more about his skill in playing piano. Bruce’s kisses pause for a moment before he stands up.

“I’ll play you a song later,” he murmured, effortlessly lifting you up into his arms. “I want you,” he said. You were glad that he was holding you because you were feeling weak in the knees.

“Promise?” You smiled.

“What? About the song?” Bruce asked as he carried you off to your shared bedroom. “Yeah, I promise,” he took in a deep breath of your scent.

Bruce sat on the bed and held you in his lap. You thanked god for those sweatpants that he just loved wearing. You could feel every inch of his hardness against your thigh.

“I haven’t even showered yet,” you warned him, leaning into him.

“I don’t care,” Bruce responded, his voice huskier than normal. His hands trailed down to hold your hips.

You take his bottom lip between your teeth, giving it a playful nip before pulling back.

Bruce looks completely enthralled by you.

He is.

Bruce maneuvers you into a lying down position on the bed. “Close your eyes,” he told you.

You raised an eyebrow but did as he said, closing your eyes.

It was quiet for several agonizing moments, before you felt Bruce’s hands on your body, gently removing your clothes. You moved around, helping him in removing your clothes. You wanted to open your eyes, to see him, with his kiss-swollen lips and his eyes dark with lust, but you resisted.

Bruce removed everything but your underwear.

“Can I—” you began.

“No,” Bruce responded, his hands on your legs, moving them around and spreading them apart, so he could slide between them. You felt the weight of him settle between your legs, his hands on either side of your shoulders. He dipped down and started a trail of kisses from your neck, down to your collarbone. His tongue darted out to lick around your collarbone. He took a moment to suck at the sensitive skin there, no doubt leaving a hickey. You laughed, your hands going into his hair.

“I’ll pay you back tenfold,” you warned him. You could feel him smile against your skin.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he rasped out.

Bruce continued his worship of your body, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue twirling around the bud while his other hand plucked at your other breast. His hips lightly ground into yours, seeking out some sort of reprieve from the aching between his legs. Your hands go into his hair, tangling your fingers in his messy dark locks. You let out a soft sigh as his mouth began to pay attention to your other nipple. Your body felt several degrees hotter, and it only increased as Bruce began to kiss down further. Down your abdomen, and finally, his face was level with your cunt. He guided your legs to rest on his bare shoulders.

“All this for me?” He asked, using his index finger to rub the wet spot in your underwear. Your breath hitched, and your pussy clenched. Heat coiled in your abdomen at what was to come.

“All yours,” you said, finally opening your eyes.

Bruce kissed your thigh and then kissed your clothed pussy. He happily pressed his nose against the wet spot, breathing your scent in. Bruce always thought that the smell of your needy cunt was the best scent he had ever experienced. Helooked almost pensive for a moment, before easily ripping your underwear.

“Bruce!” You gasped.

“I’ll buy you more,” he whispered, sliding a finger into your aching folds. “I’ll buy you anything you want,” he said with a happy sigh. He tossed aside the torn underwear.

“I can’t believe you did that,” you breathed out, tugging on his hair.

“You’re complaining?” He rubbed at your clit with his thumb.

“No,” you responded, tugging more on his hair. “It was hot.”

“I’ll have to remember that,” he murmured.

A laugh bubbled up from your chest. “That’s not an invitation to— oh fuck.”

His tongue began to lap at your folds, effectively ending your train of thought. Bruce knew how to play your body like it was an instrument. After nearly two years, Bruce had figured out where to lick, where to rub or pinch to make you squirm and moan. An upside to dating a detective, you suppose.

His fingers parted your lips, and you could feel his index finger twitching inside of you. He slid another digit in. You bit down a moan. Bruce pulled back. “Alfred isn’t home,” he purred. He kissed your thigh again. “Be loud,” he nearly begged. “I want to hear you scream my name.”

“Gotta earn it, big boy,” you breathed.

You heard him chuckle against your thigh, before diving back in, teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue.

It was a challenge, and oh did Bruce love a good challenge.

Bruce slowly thrust his fingers in and out of you, setting an agonizing pace. You felt fuzzy as he angled his fingers just right to hit the spot inside of you that made you sing. You felt like a string, being pulled so tight, you were about to snap.

“Bruce,” you groaned. “Bruce, Bruce, Bruce.” You chanted. Bruce ate pussy like it was the last time he’d ever be able to taste you. Desperate to savor you. And it was very possible that it could be. Bruce had his eyes closed, as if he was experiencing euphoria just from your taste, your moans. Your body twitched and jerked, and Bruce used his strong arm to hold down your hips as he sucked on your clit. He moaned against your sensitive folds. You rolled your hips, eager to find your release.

Finally, you found release, your back arching off of the bed as shockwaves of pleasure ripped through you. You sobbed out his name, your body arching off of the bed as you felt your orgasm hit you. Bruce continued teasing your clit as you rode the shockwaves of pleasure.

And you finally relaxed, the tension leaving your body, something that Bruce noticed.

“You must have really needed that,” he mused, removing his fingers and crawling up your body to kiss you, his lips still wet with your slick.

Your breaths were ragged, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. He looked like the cat that caught the canary.

“You look impressed with yourself,” you breathed out.

“I am,” he said, adjusting himself so he could easily remove his pants. “I should have timed that. Couldn’t have been longer than three minutes.” He sounded so pleased with himself, it caused a laugh to bubble up from your chest.

“Thank you,” you said, watching his cock spring out of his pants. The tip was an angry red, wet with precum.

“For?”

“The orgasm. I really did need it.”

“I plan on giving you another. I still haven’t heard you screaming my name.”

You sat up, and reached down, taking his length into your hand. He let out a shaky breath.

“All this for me?” You asked, a smirk tugging on the corners of your lips. You spread the precum around the tip using your thumb, not taking your eyes off his face.

“All yours,” Bruce responded, reaching over to the bedside table, and grabbing a condom. “I need to be inside of you, right now,” Bruce said, moving your hands. He ripped into the aluminum foil of the condom and slid it onto his length. You opened your legs wider for him.

“Then what are you waiting for?” You asked, your hands on his shoulders as he leaned over you.

Bruce growled, leaning down to kiss you as he slowly entered you. He let out a series of little gasps and growls as he bottomed out. “So wet,” he breathed out. “So wet, all for me,” he said right in your ear, his warm breath fanning over your ear and neck. His hair fell in his face. “I don’t know if I’ll last long,” he admitted as he began to move.

“That’s okay,” you whined. “I just wanna watch you come,” you said, brushing his hair out of his face.

It was almost too much for Bruce. The way your slick, velvety walls fluttered around him with each thrust was already sending Bruce to the edge, but he was holding back. He wanted to enjoy this, and not blow his load immediately.

You could swear that Bruce was made for you. He slotted so perfectly between his legs. His cock was the perfect size

Your chest was pressing up against his. Bruce’s lips just barely brushed against yours with each movement of his hips. Your hands found their way back to his hair, tangling your fingers in his dark hair, holding him close to you. The wet noises echoed through the room, only barely drowned out by Bruce’s soft whimpers. You could feel his heart through his chest, beating wildly, only for you. He dips down, licking a stripe down your chest, he enjoyed the salty taste of your sweat. His movement was languid, each snap of his hips was made with purpose.

“Bruce,” you whined, lifting up your hips. “Faster,” you begged. Bruce leaned down and quieted you with a kiss. He didn’t listen to you, still lazily fucking you. He propped himself above you, his chest brushing against yours, while his free hand reached down to rub at your swollen nub. You watched as Bruce’s eyes slipped close in pleasure. You were charmed as you watched him. His lips slightly parted, breathing in your air. Each movement of his hips pulled a noise out of Bruce. He growled your name, causing you to clench around him. You noticed that Bruce’s thrusts were getting sloppier.

“Please—” he begged. “I need you to come again,” he choked out. "Need to feel you— fuck.”

“I’m close,” you panted out. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t stop. He kept up his sloppy but steady pace his heart hammering in his chest.

“Bruce!” You keened as your toes curled and your back arched into him. Your body was tingling as your orgasm swept through you. Bruce let out a whine, and he soon followed. His body jerked, and you could feel him twitching inside of you as he came. He laid his head on your shoulder as he caught his breath.

“I love you,” he whispered breathily.

“I love you more,” you said with a grin. He smiled in response. Bruce took in a breath as he pulled out of you, and disposed of the condom in the nearby bin.

“I’ll let you win this one. You know. Because I love you,” he said as he laid back down, pulling your sweaty bodies together.

You let out a thoughtful hum as you relaxed into him.

“What are your plans for the rest of the evening?” Bruce asked his lips against your cheek.

“Spending time with my boyfriend, hopefully.”

“What a coincidence,” Bruce murmured. “Because I was hoping to spend more time with my girlfriend.”

Even with the blackout curtains, you could still see his bright eyes. You felt bubbly in your chest, and you smiled brightly at him.

Bruce’s breath hitched as he gazed at your bright smile.

This, he decided, was certainly worth living for.

#Bruce Wayne x Reader #dc x reader #reader insert #female reader smut #Bruce Wayne smut #battinson x reader #peach's writing

[flowercrowngods]

oooohhh liminal spaces my beloved,,,,

I would LOVE to see you write number 3 (moving out and checking your now bare rooms if you left anything, either it be materials or memories) with Steddie!

klausi! 🥰🤍 thank you for indulging me, beloved! this got a little too introspective and too projecting but oh well

no. 3 — when you're moving out of a house and checking your room when it's almost or completely empty and sorted out

It takes him a while to realise what that feeling is that overcomes him; what to call that weight that’s been so firmly lodged inside his chest that he feels like his steps and movements have actually slowed down lately.

A lump in his throat and a heaviness in his bones is not necessarily new in this house, not a new sensation to feel within these walls, reinforced day by day, morning by morning, night by awful night.

But now, seeing it like this, there is a new emotion. A new heaviness. And Steve takes it all in as he lets his gaze roam over the empty floor, still dirty and dusty because he hasn’t the strength or the energy to clean it all again. He takes in the walls, splotched with light and shadow and the echo of pictures and posters that hung there for years, leaving behind only a trace of their shape on the wallpaper, untouched by sunlight for years.

They’re spectres of who Steve used to be. Spectres of versions of him — genuine and pretend alike.

He stares at the spot where a picture frame hung for as long as he can remember, just a tad off centre from the plaid wallpaper in a way that never ceased to make Robin complain.

He wonders, staring still, if he will hang up the picture frame again in his new place. If it will be off centre again, just for Robin. Just for a reason to smile. If he will keep that version of him, or if it will stay behind as a spectre within these walls, too.

One last victim for them. One last thing for them to take.

It’s a silly thought. Dramatic, really.

Just as dramatic as Robin, who refused to come upstairs with jim again for one last check, claiming If I go upstairs with you again and have to deal with your melancholy face, Steven, I will actually burn this place to the ground.

She’d flicked her Zippo at him in a way that was almost cool, and it almost made him tear up right then and there.

He will hang up that frame again. Maybe replace the picture, take one of Robin with her Zippo, put it right above the front door, just a little to the left.

Steve‘s eyes begin to sting as he tries to take a deep breath, tries not to give the awful wallpaper its old power back, tries not to feel so small. So big. So displaced.

His knees buckle at the same time as his resolve does, and he sits down on the floor, the plush carpet a familiar sensation against his palm.

He hates this room. He’s going to miss it so much. It was his prison. It was his sanctuary. It was never his, and yet he hates the idea of it becoming someone else’s. Nothing good happened between these walls. Every happy memory he has are linked to them. He is a stranger to this room. It knows his every secret.

He wants to burn this place to the ground and leave and never return. He wants to sit here forever and watch the discolouration deepen.

He wants this place to be his home. And yet he knows it never will be. He doesn’t know if he can make a home.

A tear runs down his face, and he doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s relief. Maybe it’s regret. Maybe it’s grief, or overwhelm; or maybe it’s all of them and more.

There is a knock, gentle and careful, sounding against the door frame. It has never been tapped like that. Will it know such gentleness again?

“There you are,” Eddie says, lingering behind Steve, his steps not approaching. Not encroaching upon Steve and his heavy little moment.

He wipes at his face and turns around, flashing what must be a pathetic rendition of a smile.

“Yeah, I’m here, just…” He clears his throat. “Just checking, y’know?”

Eddie smiles, kind and patient, like he sees right through him. “Checking and getting stuck, hm? Happens to me all the time.”

Steve shrugs.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure. I’m done anyway.”

Eddie hums, murmuring something that sounds a lot like No, you’re not. And Steve sags into Eddie as soon as he comes to a stop beside him, leaning against his leg and feeling the soft fabric of Eddie’s worn denim against his cheek. Like this, his head is at the perfect height for Eddie to run his fingers through his hair.

��You wanna talk about it? Or just sit in silence ‘til getting up is an option again?”

Steve doesn’t say anything, too focused on feeling all these things that the emptiness of his childhood bedroom makes him feel. All that fear, all that relief, all that anxiety and the nervousness and the excitement and the freedom and the yearning. For a home.

For picture frames off centre, for candles and fairy lights not just around Christmastime, for dinner with friends and finding that you don’t have enough dishes yet for everyone and then just eating stew out of a mug when all the bowls are gone already. Late night dancing and conversations and singing not just in the shower, arranging and rearranging a room until it’s just right and realising that a year or two has passed already and you’ve still not changed the makeshift lightbulbs in the hallway.

He wants a home. And he wants to make it, to create it, to build it from nothing but hope, love, and just enough craziness to not give up after the first failed attempt.

“Hey,” Eddie says at some point, and Steve didn’t realise there are more tears now until Eddie’s wiping them from his face, the warmth against Steve’s cheek gone now; replaced by the sleeves of Eddie’s hoodie. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

And he does. Steve falls forward now, into Eddie’s arms, and clings to him.

“I wanna make a home.”

“You’re gonna make a home, sweet thing.”

“But what if I can’t? What if it’s always gonna be like this?” Steve pulls back, wiping at his face, looking at Eddie now, whose hands are now in Steve’s lap, keeping him so, so warm. “So full of… nothingness and regret and just. Just empty.”

Eddie smiles and leans forward, his nose almost touching Steve’s. “You’re the least empty person I know, Stevie. You’re moving in with Robbie! That place is gonna be a home the moment you two set foot in it. And then we’re gonna paint your walls, we’re gonna go to the hardware store seven times a day because you two suck at decision making, but it’s okay, because it’s a process. And you’re gonna be so, so good at it. And you’re gonna have a home, okay? You’re gonna make it. Build it. Create it. And you get to start over and over and over until it’s right.”

Eddie’s hands have found their way into Steve’s hair again, lightly scratching at his scalp in soothing circles.

“And you know what’s best about homes?”

Steve shakes his head, hanging on Eddie’s lips and his words and all of his warmth.

“They’re a community effort. Meaning you have us to help you. You ain’t gotta do it alone. Robbie and I are gonna build your home just as much as you will, yeah? And we’re gonna be so annoying about it.” He ends his little speech with a manic little grin that never fails to get a laugh out of Steve, even if this one’s a little watery.

He breathes a little, and sighs at last, the tears finally stopping. “Do you really mean that?”

“What that I’m gonna be so annoying?”

“No, that one I know,” Steve grins, and Eddie cackles at that, leaning in to kiss him on the nose. “No, I mean… Do you really think I can do this?”

Eddie’s expression sobers into something more genuine. “I do. If there’s anyone who can make a home, it’s my boy Steve fucking Harrington. And do you wanna know why?”

He nods.

“Because you’re my home.”

The smile he gives Eddie before closing the gap between them for a proper kiss is one that these walls have never seen before.

The afternoon sun comes streaming in through the windows one last time just as Steve gets up, pulled into Eddie’s arms. It leaves the room tinged in gold for Steve one last time.

It’s goodbye. It’s farewell. It’s Steve, moving on.

🌷🤍 the prompt list

#steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #liminal steddie #dio words #i had a bad day. i’m scared i can’t make a home on my own. have some projections #it’s been a while since i wrote anything my head is too full sorry guys :( #dio’s steddie ramblings

[walkgojo]

" JUST A BIT OF RUST. "

✧·ﾟ: ✧·ﾟ:✧·ﾟ: ✧·ﾟ:✧·ﾟ: ✧·ﾟ:✧·ﾟ: ✧·ﾟ: ✧·ﾟ: ✧·ﾟ:✧·ﾟ: ✧·ﾟ:✧·ﾟ: 

 ✗ tags! toji fushiguro x any!reader, angst, toji fushiguro disappearance, discussion of grief.

 ✗ notes! this is my first fic, please don't get the pitchforks and i would highly suggest listening to someone from a warm climate by hozier on REPEAT while reading.

 ✗ word count: 1.8k

edit: i adjusted a few typos/missing words! sorry for any mistakes 🫧 part 2 will be coming soon.

✧·ﾟ: ✧·ﾟ:✧·ﾟ: ✧·ﾟ:✧·ﾟ: ✧·ﾟ:✧·ﾟ: ✧·ﾟ: ✧·ﾟ: ✧·ﾟ:✧·ﾟ: ✧·ﾟ:✧·ﾟ: 

six seasons had passed since you saw him last. for three of those, you ignored the white motorbike that was parked poorly outside your apartment. you felt the gentle crush of salt beneath your boots the first winter, you cursed the sight of it, even as your gloved hand swept the snow from its cracked leather seat. 

when the kind relief of springtime came, you noticed the edges of the rear breaks had began to rust, some damage to the frame. you stood, staring with cautious eyes. if you thought about it long enough, you could remember the warmth of his back pressed to your cheek as you arms circled his waist. you shake your head. he left you, need you be reminded. you had considered calling some sort of recycling service for the vehicle, but you felt a sort of kinship with the bike. you'd both been abandoned by toji.

you knew his job was dangerous when you had met him; he would disappear for days. you didn't know what about you had made him so fond, but you always noticed when he'd lean ever so slightly into your touch. a soft palm that cupped a bloodied cheek so kindly as the other hand wiped away the dirt from his skin. 

"what is it?" you whispered, cheeks growing flushed from his steady stare.

"nothing." he breathed, hands gripping your hips as he sat patiently on the dining room seat.

a fool you'd been, you thought. to think that a haphazard relationship with a man, whose work could not even be disclosed to you, could find itself successful. a fool you'd been, imagining a life where you could come home to him every night. a fool you'd been, savoring the salted taste of his lips, as if they'd ever fully belong to you. 

when you finally came to terms with the idea of total loss, you felt paralyzed. knees pulled to your chest as you curled into the couch, cheeks flushed as your eyes stung with tears. while you had reluctantly allowed rage to cradle you for a year and a half, grief felt much more suffocating. 

because, what if abandonment wasn't the truth? what if the reality was that your lover had found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time? facedown in a gutter, purpled and stiff flesh that was once soft and warm. what if toji no longer existed, who would know to tell you?

you bite down on the inside of your cheek, not minding the taste of copper against your tongue as you try to save yourself from the cold plunge into full distress. 

if he was dead, would you have felt it? would something in your body alert you? like this sudden emptiness — not absence, but the weight of nothing pressing down into your chest. the gravity of love torn forever. the violent severance of hope, the ties it had made around your heart now cut and shredded? would you have felt that?

you felt rage, you felt grief, but hope was stored somewhere below your collarbones and above your ribcage. it had cozied itself there, it had burrowed and made a home. a place for toji. 

if toji was gone, if your body had not felt the cosmic loss, he would live right there. on the same spot he laid his cheek when he came home late at night. the space between your collarbones, above your ribcage, to hear your breathing and heartbeat all at once. a reminder that the love was not a fantasy, that he had it in physical form. someone who could wipe the same tears he shed as a child, someone who smiled at him, someone who asked for more of him but asked nothing of him. that had never happened before.

—

"what was your childhood like?" you whispered, curling into his side. your voice was soft and hesitant, like speaking to a wild animal that you were afraid to spook.

there's a silence that hangs in the air, you can only hear the cars outside driving over wet pavement. it's like that for a few minutes before you hear him release a breath.  "why?" you feel his arm tighten around your waist slightly, almost as if he feared that any real answer might drive you away.

“because,” a pause, “i want to know you.” your fingers slowly trace over his jaw, traversing over skin before meeting his lips. he pressed a kiss to the tips of your fingers, your breath catching in your throat. it had always surprised you when he met you with such tenderness, but you didn’t want it to surprise you anymore. you wanted to expect intimacy, tenderness, soft touches and gentle stares. so, you had to ask. “so, what was it like for you?” 

“no,” he responds simply. “no?” “no, it’s only going to make you upset. it’s going to ruin whatever mood this is right now.” you roll your eyes, those gentle fingers of your now pressed to his chin, forcing him to look at you. “it’s not ruining this, it’s making it something new. different.” your fingers slowly release him. there’s a flash of understanding in his eyes and he wants to take your invitation. “it wasn’t like yours. it wasn’t what people make childhood sound like.” his fingers grabbing your wrist before guiding your hand to his face once more, placing his cheek against your palm. it was dark in the room, the only light was the street lights that filtered in through the curtains. you could barely make each other out, but you could feel him relax again. “i’m sorry.” apologies were foreign to toji — well, apologies uttered when nothing wrong had been done. he was used to the sounds of apologies as final words right before the firm snap of a neck, the crush of a skull. but, this phrase from you was different; it came like honey and was free of fear. it felt like a balm — relieving the burns of what someone else had done.

he never understood how you could do that. how you could ease some of the rage in him, enough to take the edge off, to urge him into unassuming existence as he let himself feel small for the first time. small enough to cradle, small enough to be cared for. he presses a kiss to your forehead, exhaling against your skin. the same way you felt nervous on the back of his bike before relaxing into his grip was the same way he felt now. pillow talk, whispers in the night that dared to open him wide — he needed to press of your skin to feel secure, he needed to grip your waist to know he wouldn’t fall to the wayside. you’d never let him. — the soft slam of the kitchen cabinet, you look up from the kotatsu. its drawing a soft hum from you as you sipped on a cup of barley tea. “toji,” you coo, lips curled kindly, “come sit with me.” he turned to look at you, something sharp in his gaze. it struck a chord of fear in you, something unsettling stirring in the pit of your stomach. anger, disgust, something you couldn’t describe.  your gaze followed the line of his arm, a bookbag in his grip with his clothing stuffed inside.

you quickly pull yourself from the warmth; it felt like ice was beginning to cut through your skin as you stood to your feet. he was leaving. he was leaving. he was leaving in a way that felt permanent. “are you, um, headed out for a job?” you whisper, fearful that your voice would strain if you spoke any louder. he turns back to the cabinet, grabbing some snacks you had purchased and shoving them in his bag before zipping it shut. “i’ll make sure i get some more of those for you,” you try to convince yourself that the silence isn’t some sort of permanent farewell, but the white-hot pit would assure you otherwise. “i’m leaving,” toji starts and finishes all in one breath. 

what is this fear in your fingertips? why do you feel as if you’re trembling? 

“i-i see that. how long will you be gone? three days?” the most he’d ever been gone was twelve days, with short messages every four days. he shrugs, walking toward the door as you follow, feeling like a pathetic puppy. so much so, you almost whimper as his fingers grip the door knob but don’t dare reach for his keys. “four?” he doesn’t meet your gaze. he simply turns, hand releasing the door before pulling you hard into him once more. a kiss to the top of your head, a squeeze to your arm before he made out the door a final time.

— 

you stand in front of the bike, gripping the keys between your fingers and palm, taking a deep breath. you placed your hands against the seat, unsure of what you wanted to do. to mount, to leave, to ride, to walk. you just knew you needed to leave the apartment soon but the longer you thought, the more you felt pins and needles pressed into the small of your back. beads of sweat starting to pool, eyes shutting for a moment. the summer heat had been pressing down on your chest, gripping your shoulders unkindly, your hair stuck to the back of your neck. you remembered the relief of cool wind that last summer when he’d pick you up from work, the air cooling you down as you let him take you home. you couldn’t tell what you were craving now but maybe you’d get it the moment you got on the bike. 

“what do you think you’re doing?"

the voice is cool and low as you were just about to lift your foot from the ground. your breath catches, a biting chill striking you. you're frozen in place, eyes widening as your stare bores into the convenience store across the street. the sound came from behind you. you do nothing, you say nothing. you wait, thinking that maybe this was just an old memory that was echoing, a near hallucination of something that was. until it comes again. "i said, what do you think you're doing?"

a hand on your shoulder, it's firm as it turns you around. your body is reluctant, fearful to know who is behind you. it's as if all sensation leaves your flesh, as if you've been thrown into a dream. body nearly numb, ice cold in this hot summer. it takes time, but you turn, eyes meeting the expanse of his chest. you can't look up, but you know. there it is, that white hot pit now searing through your stomach and crawling up your throat. "i was going for a ride." your voice is something you cannot recognize, it's so fragile it could shatter. fingers trembling once more, like the last time. muscle memory. "you're not going anywhere, sweetheart."

#jjk x reader #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji x you #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu toji

[sillyromance]

I feel you heart pounding heavily against your ribs as you lie in my arms, looking me right in the eyes. My stomach rumbles beside you, politely announcing of its emptiness, but don't get tricked. It's almost painful, evil sensation which clenched my insides firmly like vice, turning them inside out while they are struggling with hunger. However, I just smile. You're here not to satisfy me, but yourself. You're small, and sad, and scared. That's OK. There is no shame in that...

I bring you up closer to my face - your skin gets pale as instinctive fear kicks in your veins. I don't hurry; your tiny palms run over my cheeks and lips; I force back the wish to taste your adorable little fingers - they have such a good smell... I ask if you still want me to send you there. After a moment, you nod, still worried but sure about your decision. I smile gently and rub your head in attempt to comfort you, although I know it's not enough. I'm a switch after all; no need to tell me how hard it is to go through this for the first time.

Finally, I open my mouth wide and lift you up to put your feet right on my awaiting tongue. The flavour is... Beautiful; I can't help but exhale with pleasure savouring your skinny, cool ankles. Meanwhile, you're trembling. God, I feel so pity for you! My mind is spinning of misunderstanding, trying to process this controversial information of joy and grief combined together. Regardless, it doesn't take long for me to focus. I lock my attentive gaze on your figure; icy sweat covers your hot, pulsing neck, you're staring down at me with mix of doubt and terror. However, you don't ask me to stop. I play with your legs a little bit more, giving you a chance to get used to the situation, then go for the next level, pushing you in just slightly and making you knees disappear in my maw. You gasp as my teeth accidentally touch your vulnerable skin; I rapidly part them to ease the tension. Your toes wiggle in my pharynx, I have to grant you a pleading look to say it disturbs me, so you hold still. I feel bad for making barriers everywhere for you; I'm aware of horror growing in your chest with every passing moment, but it will be better for both of us if you don't squirm. I promise, I won't hurt you. It'll be over soon.

Well, the point of no return is near. I push you just a bit deeper, like this... Yeah. Now I can catch your limbs with my throat muscles. My grip weakens; I swallow. You faintly shriek. I fondle your back, relaxing your body which has suddenly become hard and solid like a rock, being paralysed with shock. I wait; after some seconds your powerless hand pat on my upper lip, permitting me to continue. Oh, you can't imagine how difficult it is to breathe in this position, to hold my instincts sleeping while even so miserable part of you has been already embraced by my throat... No. Don't think about it. It's fine. I swallow once more, your hips and belly entering my esophagus. My neck pleasantly stretches; my mouth shamelessly waters as I get more of your spicy taste, invisible molecules bursting soundlessly on the surface of my craving tongue. You sense this and shiver, your poor clothes getting instantly soaked in my sticky saliva. But I won't make you uncomfortable for long; glancing at your pretty muzzle one last time, I title my head back and let you simply slide inside, contracting my throat again, tracing you slowly passing every centimetre of it: down, down, down...

At last, I can gift my chest with fresh air. You slipped inside so smoothly that it startles me...

My waist is heavy; cute little lumps are walking around underneath my clothes. You're in my stomach now.

The organ whines with pleasure as abundant meal comes in. You are moving around, trying to find a suitable position in the limited space. I sigh, forgetting about the pangs of starvation at last - the fact I haven't eaten since morning to do this to you is nothing comparing to the heavenly sensation of you being inside my core. Now I'm shaking too. It's impossible to stay straight; I lie down cautiously, putting my hands on the expanded middle, tears forming in the corners of my eyes.

You. Are. In. There.

I devoured an alive person. It's so good that it hurts...

You are still nervous; I murmur kind, calming words and caress you within my full belly gurgling gladly at your presence. It's safe within me. I won't digest you. Just look around and see that there is no acid to burn you. You won't get suffocated 'cause you're breathing with me. I won't jostle you with harsh movements. I won't laugh at your helplessness. I'm here to hold you, to listen to your cries, to fight your demons with you side by side.

It's so good that you hear me and settle in. Your warm weight feels unreal and... Perfect. I don't let my arms go away from my abdomen, making them cover the bulge you have created as if I have committed a crime which I should hide now.

You don't need to feel anxious anymore. I have you.

I love you.

#soft vore #extreme cuddling #safe vore #willing pred #reluctant prey #comfort vore #first time vore #vore switch #willing prey

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Fight Me, Love Me, Save Me Pt. 3

This will fill the, Isolated/Trapped square on my @jacklesversebingo card. This is my last entry on my bingo card!!! This is the first time, out of NUMEROUS bingos, that I've actually completed my whole card!! 😍😍

Summary: A series in three parts exploring Y/N's and Dean's relationship from bickering children, to love and broken promises, to a plea for salvation.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Mild smut, more, making out, really. Show level violence. Angst. Grief. Sadness. Fluff. The usual from me. 😜

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Word Count: 7,698 (🫣🫣 I'm so sorry - this last part had a lot of story to tell!)

A/N: So this series will fill the last three squares on my bingo card. The first part covers "It's Mine, and you can't have it." Part two will cover Broken Promises, (Nov 12) and part three will be for the Isolated/Trapped square. (Nov 19 23 - I'm very sorry! But it's here now!)

Series Masterlist

I hope you enjoy!! If you do, please remember to like, reblog and/or comment. Means the world to us writers! ❤️

The dividers included here were created by @talesmaniac89

Dean sat in the empty motel room, grateful to be alone once again. He'd been avoiding their motels as much as possible over the last couple of weeks because he needed that solitude. It was too hard to be in the same room with her; to sit across the table from her and not be able to reach over and take her hand - it was awful.

So, he'd been sleeping in the Impala's back seat a lot lately, making due with the confined space, and trying not to think about the very pleasurable times he'd spent back there with Y/N in his lap. 

He was pretty sure those times wouldn't come again. Y/N had made it fairly clear she wasn't interested in moving forward now. She'd barely spoken two words to him in as many weeks. He'd come close to apologizing a few times. But then his anger talked him out of it. 

I have nothing to apologize for, he thought angrily. 

She was the one who needed to apologize. But his anger at her didn't make it any easier to keep his hands off of her when she was around. It didn't stop his heart from squeezing painfully tight every time he looked at her and remembered how perfect she felt in his arms.

Which was why he stayed away.

But sometimes he couldn't avoid coming back. He was back now because his dad had called him that morning and told him they were trailing a big nest of vamps a few towns over. Seemed to be a nasty group, so they were gonna need all the help they could get in planning how to take them down. 

He knew he'd promised their dads that their relationship (or loss of it) wouldn't interfere with the team. So, he came back immediately.

But when he got to the motel they'd been staying in for the last while, it was empty. So, he just sat and waited for them to return.

When the door finally opened he looked up, expecting to see the group of them coming back. But only Y/N slipped through the door, pulling up short when she saw him sitting at the table. 

There were a few seconds of frozen staring from both of them before Dean broke eye contact and took his gun out of his inside jacket pocket and started pulling it apart, pretending he was going to clean it, simply to give his hands something to do. 

Y/N stepped all the way into the room and closed the door behind her. She took off her jacket and sat on the couch under the window. Dean was hyper aware of her every move; he could smell her perfume and he gritted his teeth against its effect. 

He snuck in a glance at her and had to hold in a moan at how fucking gorgeous she looked. She was wearing tight black jeans and a pale pink sweater that fell off her shoulder, revealing a black bra strap. Her hair was up in a ponytail, exposing her long, extremely kissable neck. 

Dean bit his lip and then swept his gaze away quickly when Y/N looked up at him. 

Jesus Christ, being here is torture, Dean thought.

After another minute of silence, Y/N gave a huff of annoyance. “This is so stupid.” She said suddenly, the words bursting out of her like an explosion. 

Dean looked up from his gun cautiously. He didn't say anything, waiting for her to elaborate. She stood up and walked over to the table, plunking herself down on the chair across from him. He sat back in his chair and tried to pretend he wasn't retreating from her effect on him. Being so close, and yet so far, was extraordinarily painful.

She opened her arms wide, questioning. “This is stupid.” She repeated, “Can't we just move on from this, like we always do?”

He shrugged as though he was indifferent and then looked her in the eye.

“Sure, if I hear an apology in there somewhere, we can definitely leave it behind.”

Y/N clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes, making the same hurt and anger from their last conversation begin to burn in his heart again.

“Apologize?” She said with disdain. “For what?”

Dean clenched his jaw to keep from screaming at her and trying to force her to see how much her attitude and judgment had hurt him.

Instead, with extreme effort, he kept his voice low and steady. “How about, for breaking your promises?”

Y/N rolled her eyes again. “God, you’re so dramatic!” She said angrily. “I didn't ‘break my promises’.” 

“Yeah, you did, actually!” Dean shot back, some of his feelings seeping into his tone despite himself. “You promised you wouldn't get mad. Swore you wouldn't freak out.”

He tapped two fingers against his chest. “I didn't wanna talk about it! I TOLD you I didn't wanna talk about it. But you insisted.” He said, pointing his two fingers at her now. “So I told you the truth - and you nailed me with it.”

He fell silent, and Y/N watched him. Her nostrils were flared and she wore the stubborn, defensive expression that meant she wasn't going to back down. 

“Yeah well,” she said, skating her eyes away from his, “it was a LOT of truth.”

“Whatever, the point is,” Dean said coldly, “you promised I could trust you with the truth and then you broke your promise; you immediately got pissed and judgy.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes a third time, and it was the last straw for Dean. “Yeah, okay.” He said, quickly reassembling his partially disassembled gun. “Tell my dad I'll be back later.”

He put the gun back in his pocket and stood up. “Clearly you don't give a shit, so whatever - this is done.”

He stomped towards the door.

“Wait!” Y/N said quickly, standing up. But he ignored her and reached the door. “What do you mean, done? You mean…the conversation is done, or…?”

She left the question dangling and Dean turned back to her. He took all of her in - her beauty that clobbered him, her arms crossed defensively over her chest, her expression of anger, fear, and stubbornness - and he shook his head.

“We were stupid to think this was ever gonna work.” He said quietly. He saw her expression crumple for a moment and it was almost his undoing. But then she jutted her chin and her voice was accusing as she shouted at him, her voice full of derision.

“You're telling me I have to apologize, but what about you? Where have you been, Dean? You're hardly ever here. So, who are you…just where have you been staying?”

Her question hit him like a punch. He clenched his teeth, anger simmering with hurt. “Why don't you just ask me what you really wanna ask me, Y/N?”

Y/N's face was dark and stormy and her voice dripped with acid. “Fine.” She enunciated her words exactly. “Who are you sleeping with now?”

Dean didn't let the wound she caused show on his face, instead he let his own arrow fly.

He shrugged carelessly and let ice settle over his expression. “Whoever says yes.”

Despite the direct hit he knew he scored, he took no pleasure in drawing blood and turned away quickly from what he was leaving behind.

***

Three days later

Y/N woke up in the dark, choking on blood. She instinctively turned her head towards the ground, coughing and spitting the coppery taste out of her mouth. She jumped as a voice spoke beside her in the dark.

“Now, now, sweet thing, you just drink up.” As her eyes adjusted somewhat to the dark she could make out the shape of a man standing beside her. He reached out and petted her hair before gripping the back of her head and holding it still as he pushed his wrist against her mouth and she tasted the blood again. 

She screamed and tried to get away, but her wrists were bound above her and the sounds of chains rattled as she fought against his hold. Finally he pulled his wrist away from her mouth, but whispered in her ear.

“Sorry to lock you away like this, beautiful, but the others are gonna be jealous and want a piece of you and I want you all to myself.” She felt him lean into her, placing chapped lips against her cheek. “You were just too pretty to eat. I wanna keep ya.”

Y/N was choking and gagging on his blood, and as terrifying truths began to push their way into her mind, tears clogged her throat as well.

The man ran a hand down her cheek and she shuddered. “I know you feel rotten right now, beautiful,” the man whispered again, “but that's just because you haven't eaten.”

He ran his hands up her arms and tightened the rope that bound her wrists. She looked up and saw that the rope was tied into some kind of pulley system that disappeared into the dark above her, those were the chains she’d heard.

“Now, I don’t want my scared little filly to run, so…” He stepped away from her and began tugging on a rope that worked the pulley, raising her a foot off the ground so she dangled there like a fish on a hook. “You just stay put while I fetch you some dinner.”

He came back to stand in front of her and let both his hands trace down over her sides, coming to rest on her hips and squeezing them. “Then after you’ve eaten, and you’re feelin’ better, we can have some real fun.”

Y/N tried to move away from him, but he just slapped her ass and left her swinging there as he walked out. He slid a door open, and as light spilled in from the other side, she realized they were in a barn, and above her was a loft. The pulley system she was attached to was for hauling hay up into the high storage spot. 

The man blew her a kiss and closed the door with a thud.

Left there in the dark - trapped, alone, and terrified - Y/N began to panic. She struggled uselessly against the rope that bound her, but she just swung pathetically back and forth. She refused to think about the fact that her eyes had begun to adjust remarkably well to the dark, and her ears were starting to pick up sounds that had been beyond them minutes earlier.

She knew what that man really was, knew that he wasn’t really a man, but she couldn’t focus on what was happening to her or she’d start screaming and never stop.

Into her panic and fear, Dean’s face appeared in her mind’s eye, and she took strength from it, as though he was there with her, egging her on and annoying her into fighting back as he always had. Suddenly she could hear his voice in her head.

Figure out your next move.

She nodded. Yes, she needed to get her bearings and deal with the immediate problem, which was getting away from the slimy monster who had her trapped. She closed her eyes and thought back to her last memories before waking up in the dark.

She’d been hunting, they all had. They had been hunting the nest for a couple of days, and tracked them to a dilapidated old house two miles out of town. She was standing guard at the west entrance while Sam was at the south, both of them watching for stragglers.

It had happened in seconds, the monster grabbing her from behind, sinking its teeth into her flesh and provoking a blood-curdling scream from her throat before the world went dark.

Now she was awake, and she wished she could go back to oblivion. But she couldn’t. So she focused on her surroundings. Loud, off-key music had begun to play from somewhere on the other side of the door. She could hear raucous laughter and loud voices too, as though a party had started. 

She heard screams and suddenly the thick, metallic scent of blood hit Y/N’s nose and she panicked again at the way her senses heightened and her body ached with hunger. She was sick with want, with need for the blood she could smell beyond the door. There was no longer any way for her to hide from the truth. The man who held her was no man. He was a vampire, and now she was too.

Suddenly the barn door opened and the vamp came through again, dragging a half conscious woman behind him. The woman roused slightly when she was tossed to the ground, but she seemed incredibly weak, barely able to sit up. 

The vamp moved to the pulley and lowered Y/N’s feet back onto the ground. Y/N’s focus sharpened and a plan came to mind. She drew on Dean’s invisible strength and his always impressive calm in the face of stark odds.

The vamp walked up to Y/N and gave her a stern look. “Now, pretty thing, if I take you down, you have to promise to sit nicely and eat your dinner like a good girl.”

Y/N nodded and tried to sound starving, which wasn’t difficult.. “Yes, yes, I promise. Please, I’m just so hungry.”

The vamp chuckled and reached up to pull her down from the hook. “Yeah, I remember those days. I’m gonna make you all better.” He smiled at her and she could smell the blood on his breath.

He sat Y/N on a bale of hay and yanked the woman back up off the ground. He bit into her neck, where the skin was already covered in bite marks, opening her up again so that blood rushed down the front of her filthy blue shirt. 

The scent hit Y/N's nostrils again and suddenly she felt fangs descend behind her closed lips. She let out a horrified yelp that almost drowned out the woman's faint cries of distress. She raised a hand to her mouth and cut her finger on one of her own razor sharp teeth as she prodded at it. 

The vampire thrust the woman forward and she landed in Y/N's lap. “Eat up, sweetness.” The monster said with another chuckle. 

The woman was shaking and weak, her lips blue and nearly lifeless. Y/N felt as though her entire body was cracked and parched like a desert, and the alluring scent of the woman's blood felt like an oasis. But her big brown eyes begged for mercy from Y/N even though her voice had been silenced by weakness, and Y/N pushed her roughly off her lap and jumped to her feet. The vamp seemed startled by the move and his momentary confusion was her only saving grace. 

She kicked him as hard as she could in the nuts. His cry of pain was thankfully lost in the pounding music and the screams of the people being feasted on, just on the other side of the wall.

He fell to his knees and she kicked him hard again, in the face, knocking him over to sprawl on the barn floor. With her wrists still tied, she grabbed the long, pointed spade that hung on the wall three feet away, and jammed it into his throat. He gurgled and tried to rip the tool from her hand, but she wrenched it away from him and kicked him half a dozen more times while he writhed and bled on the ground. Finally she got a good angle and stuck him with the spade again, leaving his head hanging on by a few tendons and a bit of muscle tissue. 

She smashed the spade into his neck one final time and his head rolled towards her rather pathetically.

She stood staring at it for a few moments, as she panted and her head swam.

Finally she dropped the spade and ran to the woman lying a few feet away. The smell of her blood overwhelmed Y/N again and she immediately jumped back, desperate to control herself. 

But the blank, empty look on the woman's face told Y/N she was dead anyway; so she couldn't help or hurt her now. Y/N knew that in her present state there was nothing she could do for the people being killed on the other side of the wall either. So she pulled her wrists free of the rope and ran.

She tore out of the back of the barn, and ran as fast and as far as she could. She had no idea where she could run to, she was simply trying to outrun the monster she was now.

***

Fear sat heavy and thick in Dean's heart as he followed the obvious trail Y/N had left behind her. At least, he thought it was her, it had to be her.

Please, God let it be her, Dean begged.

The world had gone dark ever since he'd heard Y/N's scream of terror and pain outside that rundown shack. He’d run to where she was stationed, but she was already gone. A red pickup truck sped away down the dirt road. But Dean had managed to secure most of the license plate number.

With it, they managed to track the vamps to their new hideout, the barn. This time they took out the whole nest. While the others were questioning the last two vamps about Y/N's whereabouts, Dean had started looking around the space and found the dead woman and the decapitated vamp. The dead monster made hope surge in Dean, and he'd called to the others. They'd split up to search for her and Dean went North simply by instinct at first, because some sixth sense was drawing him in that direction.

But after a couple hundred yards, the trail began to become more obvious. Someone had barrelled through the thick brush surrounding the old barn, and they were no longer attempting to hide their steps. 

Almost a mile away from the barn, Dean stopped short. Just ahead of him he could hear what sounded like moans, like someone in pain.

No, not someone, Dean thought, terror licking through him. 

Y/N.

He moved forward in a rush and burst through the brush into a small clearing. His heart leapt with joy and relief as he saw Y/N sitting on a turned over log barely twenty-five feet away. 

She was alive.

But as he ran towards her she jumped up and tripped over the log as she scrambled away from him.

“Y/N!” Dean called to her, but she screamed back at him.

“No, stay away from me.”

Dean frowned at her but kept walking forward. “Sweetheart, what are y-”

Y/N folded her arms against her middle and groaned again, just as sharp fangs descended. Her beautiful features twisted in a snarl as she stumbled backwards again.

Dean stopped dead, staring, unbelieving, shaking his head in denial. He felt frozen to the ground as he looked at the truth standing right in front of him. He felt his world fall away as he stared at the monster who used to be Y/N - the girl he'd known his whole life, his best friend, his rival, his perfect other half. 

And now she was lost to him. A monster.

She fell to her knees and shook her head, holding her hand out towards him, warding him off, warning him to stay back. In the bright light of the full moon and the distant glow of city lights, Dean watched her fangs retreat and tears roll down her cheeks. He approached her cautiously, somehow unable to stay back. 

She looked up at him and her beautiful eyes were stained, the whites of them pooled with blood. 

“Dean.” she croaked as she continued to shake her head at him. “Please stay away from me.” She begged. 

She nodded towards the machete that was strapped to his thigh. “Please? Just end me before I hurt someone.” She sucked in a ragged breath. “I don't want to…” Her eyes pleaded with him. “I don't wanna hurt you, or anyone.” 

Her face spasmed with pain. “But I can't…I know I can't control this for much longer. Please, help me. I don't want to kill someone.” 

Her voice was cracked and broken and suddenly Dean saw that little girl again, the one who begged him not to kill the frog, begged him to help her save it. Because she couldn't stand the thought of hurting something helpless.

That little girl could never be a monster, and he knew she still had to be in there somewhere.

He found himself shaking his head. “No, Y/N, I won’t…” He couldn't even say the words. He cleared his throat “I'm gonna save you.”

Y/N looked at him like he was insane. “Save me? There's no way to save me. There's no fixing this. I'm a monster, Dean! I can feel the bloodlust in my head, it makes everything foggy. I can hear your heart pumping and I want -” She cut herself off and closed her eyes. “Please.” She whispered again, begging him to end her life.

But instead he got down on his knees in front of her and took a deep breath. Her eyes widened and her nostrils flared as he drew closer to her. 

“You won't hurt me, Y/N.” 

“Dean!” Y/N shouted. But he shook his head.

“No, I'm right about this.” He declared, using his old playground trick of challenging her to get a rise out of her and force her into what he wanted. It seemed to work at least a little because some of the despair in her bloodshot eyes turned to annoyance.

He shook his head. “I refuse to believe there isn't a cure out there somewhere, or at least, someway to help you live with it.”

Y/N laughed humorlessly, exasperated. “Like a twelve step program for vampires? ‘God grant me the serenity not to rip open a vein.’?”

Dean grinned at her gallows humor. “Yeah, something like that.”

He looked over his shoulder and when he looked back his face was serious. “But look, I don't know how my Dad, or maybe even your Dad are gonna feel about this idea. I mean, they're so hardcore about hunting, about what’s a monster and what’s human. I don't know if I could convince them what I say is true, that I can save you.”

Y/N frowned at him and fear clouded her expression again. “You absolutely don't know it’s true! You are risking your life every second you're near me.”

Dean raised his hand slowly to her cheek and watched her swallow convulsively. “You're worth the risk, sweetheart.”

Tears filled Y/N's eyes again at the familiar endearment. She brushed away the tears and then took his hand from her cheek and held it. 

“Does this mean you forgive me?” She asked, looking up at him with a wavering smile. 

Dean grinned at her. “I don't know, does this mean you're apologizing?”

Y/N gave a watery laugh. “Yes.”

They stared at each other for a moment, both struck with just how ridiculous their fight seemed in view of their current situation. 

“Well, don’t worry, you're forgiven completely.” Dean promised. “But back to my earlier point. I think we should take off for a while. We can let our dads and Sam know we're okay, but we'll just keep moving till we find an answer.”

Y/N nodded. “But, Dean. I feel so weak already. I don't know how long I'll be able to -” 

Dean shook his head. “We'll be fine.” He said, his voice unrelenting.

“Dean -” Y/N tried again, but Dean stood up and pulled her up with him.

“No, Y/N.” He stared into her eyes, his words pushing through the pounding in her skull and the throbbing in her veins for the first time since she'd awoken as a monster.

“I will not walk away from you, I will save you.” His jaw flexed. “Or die trying.”

Y/N felt her heart constrict because she knew him well enough to know he meant every word.

***

Two weeks later

Dean listened to Y/N’s rattling breaths and felt the chasm of darkness grow deeper inside him. She was laying on the floor of the old abandoned house they were squatting in, and her skin was so pallid and pale that she matched the gray dust around her.

She'd been getting weaker and weaker the longer she went without feeding. They’d hoped that animal blood might do the trick. But they'd tried pigeon blood and rat blood - Dean had even found and shot a coyote that had been knocking over trash cans down the road, hoping that bigger game might make a difference - but none of it worked. 

Y/N threw the blood up as fast as she choked it down. She cried about the animals that had died. “We're killing them for nothing.” She wheezed. “It's not working.” Her voice was scratchy, as though she hadn't had any liquid for days. 

They'd been on their own for nearly two weeks, and every day Y/N faded a little further. 

Over the course of the two weeks there had been a few close calls between them, when Y/N's hunger threatened to overtake all her other senses. But Dean had managed to subdue her long enough, until she came back to herself. When her conscience returned, she would always shake with fear at what she'd almost done and beg him to leave her there and run. She said it without hope because she knew he never would. 

But now, she was no threat to him at all. Dean looked down at her frail body, cheeks sunken, dark black circles bruising the skin below her eyes, and he knew he was losing her. 

He knew what he had to do. 

He sat beside her on the floor, his big hand holding her skinny fingers which he squeezed gently. 

“Y/N.” He called softly. “Y/N wake up.” 

Her eyelids lifted with what looked like a herculean effort. Her eyes were unfocused until Dean moved closer and looked down at her, his face hovering above her. Then she smiled at him as she dragged in more rattling breaths.

She opened her mouth to speak, but only garbled air came out. Dean shook his head and put a finger to her lips. “No, sweetheart, don't talk, just listen.” 

He ran a thick finger down the sunken hollow of her cheek. “If you don't feed, you're not gonna make it. Now, when I spoke to Sam last time, he said they had a lead on something that might be something. But that doesn't sound like a lot, and they can help you if you're…”

He shook the word out of his mind. “We just have to keep you well until they figure it out. So…”

He trailed off and then shrugged out of his jacket. He opened the buttons on his flannel, exposing a wide swath of his warm skin. 

“So feed.” He told her.

He watched her bloody, cloudy eyes widen and darken. She shook her head feebly, her breathing becoming loud and wheezing as she tried to sit up and back away from him.

But Dean caught hold of her easily and shifted her into his lap. He brushed her limp hair back off her forehead.

“Y/N, please listen to me. We just need something to keep you going. Please.” He said, his voice and expression begging her. “I trust you. Feed.”

He kissed her lips gently, and then leaned over her, kissing her neck and leaving his exposed and vulnerable. 

“Dean.” Y/N managed to put some sound into her voice and Dean pulled back to look at her. 

She sucked in a long labored breath. “You…promised.” She shook her head again. “Promised to…” 

She had to stop talking for a few moments, her eyes falling closed before she tried again.

“Promised to save me.”

Dean's face was desperate. “What do you think I'm doing?”

Y/N's head moved minutely from side to side. “Not.” She croaked. “Saving. Save me from…monster. No monster.”

Dean understood her and he felt tears burn his eyes. She wanted him to save her from becoming a monster. It was true that neither of them knew what would happen if she fed. Would she just get stronger, or would it sever her hold on her humanity?

There was no way of knowing, and she was begging him to save her from the possibility of a bad outcome. Dean wanted to yell at her, scream and fight with her over this as they always did when they disagreed. But he knew she had no fight left. 

So he just nodded at her and took solace in the peace that drifted over her exhausted face. He shifted so that she was laying with her head in his lap and traced his finger over the delicate bones in her face and collarbone. He spoke barely above a whisper.

“Okay, sweetheart. Sleep now.”

***

Twenty-two hours later

Dean jumped as someone pounded on the door. It was the most he'd moved in hours. He rose slowly from the ground as the pounding came again accompanied by Sam's voice.

“Dean! Y/N! It's me, open the door!”

Dean reached the door and slid the bolt free, letting Sam through. His little brother rushed past him. “Why haven't you been answering your phone?” Sam asked, and then barreled forward without waiting for an answer.

“We found it, we found a cure. Dad remembered hearing some obscure piece of lore saying you could cure a werewolf with the blood of the wolf that bit them and he figured maybe vamps had something similar. So after you guys took off that night, he went back to the barn and took the fang’s blood just in case. The one Y/N killed - figured it was our best bet.” He clarified.

Sam's excitement was blinding him to Dean's stillness and he rushed on. “So, we went down to New Orleans. You know they had a bit of a vampire problem in the French Quarter about a century ago, so we thought maybe they'd have-”

Suddenly Sam stopped talking, the momentum that brought him there finally deflating under the weight of the darkness in the air.

He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “Dean? Where's Y/N?”

Dean's jaw clenched and he gestured to the other room. “Too late.”

Sam's expression sank, the last bit of his youthful excitement crumbling at the words. He walked in the direction Dean pointed, freezing in the doorway when he saw Y/N's frail body laying on a dusty table.

“Didn't wanna leave her lying on the ground.” Dean said, his voice deep and thick with unshed tears. 

Sam wasn't as practiced at hiding his emotions, and tears fell down his cheeks as he watched Y/N's still, lifeless body and thought of the way her father had fallen further and further into a bottle as the days passed, hope slipping further from their grasp. 

John had sent Sam on ahead to Dean and Y/N so that he could go back and let Darren know that there was finally hope for his daughter. Now, they were going to have to crush that last spark of hope.

He was exceedingly glad he wouldn't have to be the one to do it.

He reached Y/N and grimaced at the emaciated creature that only vaguely reminded him of the girl who'd been his big sister for all intents and purposes.

When Dean came to stand beside him, Sam shook his head. “How, how did she die?” 

Dean looked at him angrily for a moment before he clipped out an answer. “Painfully.”

Silence reigned for a moment until Sam brushed away his tears and tilted his head. “But…” He didn't finish his thought, slightly intimidated by his much bigger brother's anger and frustration with his questions.

But his mind was working and he couldn't stop himself.

“But I mean, that's sort of the thing, isn't it?”

Dean scowled at him and Sam shrugged. “I just…I mean, vampires don't die. They can't.”

“Unless they're starving.” Dean growled out but Sam shook his head. 

“No, that's my point. I've done SO much research on vampires over the last couple weeks, and some of it is a bit conflicting, but the one thing that every one of them agreed on was that the ONLY way to kill a vampire for good, for real, was to chop off their head.”

Dean was scowling at him. “What are you saying?” His voice was gruff, but Sam saw a spark of hope in his eye, and he prayed he wasn't giving his brother false hope. 

“I'm saying we found a couple hoodoo priestesses that gave up their cure for vampirism. I think we should make it and give it to Y/N.”

Dean's nostrils flared as he fought down his own burgeoning hope. “You really think some hoodoo cure is gonna bring her back from the dead?”

Sam shook his head and took off his backpack. He got down on his haunches and began pulling items out for the spell.

“But she's not dead.” He said adamantly and then amended his words cautiously. “At least. I don't think she is, cause her head is still on her shoulders. So, again, how did she die? Of starvation you said?”

Dean nodded down at Sam. “Yeah, she…she tried to drink animal blood but it wouldn't stay down.”

Sam shot him a worried look. “But she didn't drink any human blood, did she? Like even a drop?”

Dean shook his head. “No, that's why she died. I tried to get her to drink from me, but she wouldn't.”

Sam sighed with relief. “Thank God she's smarter than you are.”

Dean scowled at him, but Sam ignored it. “The spell only works on newbie vamps, and only if they haven't ingested any human blood.”

As he finished up mixing the ingredients for the cure, he explained what he was thinking. “So, if vamps can't die of starvation, then…I think she's desiccated. I read about it in only one account. This one big bad vamp in New Orleans, they couldn't stop him, so they trapped him and when he couldn't get any food, he desiccated and basically fell into a vampire coma.”

He stood up with a jar in his hands that contained a foul smelling liquid. He handed it to Dean and reached into his backpack to pull out a tin that held a syringe full of blood. 

He pushed the plunger and emptied it into the drink.

“So I think,” he continued, “that when Y/N couldn't get blood she desiccated. But see if we give her the cure she won't be a vampire anymore. So the lack of human blood in her system shouldn't matter.”

Dean frowned. “But what if, because she wasn't fully a vampire, what if she didn't just wither into a hundred year slumber? What if she really is.. just…”

Sam but his lip. “Well, we won’t know till we try to give her the cure and see.” He said with a shrug in his voice.

Dean nodded and accepted his little brother's reasoning.

He moved towards Y/N and said a prayer to a god he didn't believe in that this would work. He’d been denying the alternative for nearly a day, desperate to believe it wasn’t true. This was their chance to make it not true.

Sam lifted Y/N's shoulders so that she was sitting up, and opened her slack jaw while Dean poured the concoction down her throat. Some of it spilled out, but most of it sank slowly down her esophagus.

When the jar was empty, they laid Y/N down and held their breath.

Dean unclenched his jaw long enough to ask, “Those witches give you any idea how long -”

His words were cut off as Y/N's eyes popped open and she gasped for air like a fish on dry land just before she turned her head and began vomiting black liquid. 

Dean felt a horrible mixture of elation and terror as Y/N continued to spew up black bile.

Finally she dry-heaved a few times more and then fell forward. She would have fallen to the ground if not for Dean, who swept her off the table and into his arms. 

He held her close, hardly daring to breathe for fear that he'd break the bubble of surrealty that he found himself in. Could this nightmare really be over? Did he have Y/N back in his arms for good. 

The pessimist in him was shouting warnings at him not to risk it, but he wasn't listening very well. Hope bubbled up in him as he watched her breathing even out 

Finally, her eyes fluttered beneath her closed lids for a moment before they opened slowly. 

“Dean?” She asked groggily. “What's…?” Her voice faded as she looked around, clearly confused.

Dean set her back on the table so that he could push the hair back from her face. His voice was hesitant. “Y/N? Are you…okay?”

She turned her head and saw Sam looking at her expectantly as well. Her brow stayed crinkled for a moment more until understanding began to dawn on her face. Tears filled her eyes, and even though they were still slightly bloodshot, Dean could practically see the color returning to her cheeks, her skin losing its thin, papery look. 

He began to feel the ache in his chest ease as he tucked Y/N's hair behind her ear. “How do you feel, sweetheart?”

Her smile spread across her face and her voice was filled with the same relief and joy Dean could feel seeping through him as she answered. 

“I feel like me.”

***

The next few days were a bit rough for Y/N as the cure continued to work through her system, but they were also some of the happiest in her life. 

She’d returned to their motel and to her father’s waiting, grateful arms. The group of them celebrated her rescue and return, and the incredible tool they now had to help save vamp victims if they could get to them in time. 

For the first day or so, her father didn’t let her go very far out of his sight. But eventually, he eased off, and allowed that she was an adult and had a right to some space and privacy. So finally, four days after waking from her vampiric coma, she and Dean were able to sneak out alone. Their fathers were going to meet with another hunter about a shifter one state over, and Sam was quite glad to get the lovebirds away from him for an evening. Their pining, long looks, and frequent touching was driving him crazy.

Dean and Y/N hopped into the Impala and drove and sang together with the radio for hours. They talked and talked about absolutely nothing important, old favorite movies, and people they used to know from their hundred different hometowns. It was light and easy, and beautiful after weeks of pain, heartache and fear. 

Hours later they once again found themselves parked (on the side of an old abandoned back road this time) and cuddled up beside each other in the back seat.

Rain had begun to fall, soft but steady, beating a soothing pattern on the roof. The radio still played low from the front, and Y/N gasped when she realized that Dean had slipped in the mixed tape she’d made for their anniversary more than a month earlier. It felt like a lifetime ago.

“You kept this.” She said, smiling up at him. “I thought you hated these songs.”

Dean shrugged. “I hate them less when I’ve got you tucked up against me like this.”

Y/N reached up to pull his lips down to her. She kissed him softly and then pulled away. She lowered her gaze. “Dean, I really do owe you an apology for how I acted before.”

Dean was shaking his head, but she put a finger to his lips. “Please let me finish.” He fell silent and she continued. 

“I get a little crazy when it comes to you. I don’t know if you’ve noticed - I hide it very well.” She said with mock seriousness. 

Dean nodded along. “Of course.” 

Y/N smiled and looked down at her hands twisted in her lap. “It’s just…all my life it’s been…chaos. Different towns, different schools, different kids, different teachers, different rules, different cliques, different everything. Over and over, nothing but new…new and scary.”

Dean nodded again, knowing it was true. 

Y/N smiled sheepishly. “But through all of it, through everything new, everything different, everything scary, there was always you. You, there to piss me off and rile me up, you to challenge and push me, to defend me, to break a nose or take the fall for me. In my whole life the only constant is you. It took me a long time to realize it, but Dean,” she looked deep into his eyes, “you are everything to me.”

Tears filled her eyes. “And the truth is you’ve saved me over and over, my whole life. Yeah okay, I mean now you’ve actually offered up your very life for me, but you’ve been saving me every day, all our lives.”

Dean’s eyes were moist as she continued. “So, the thought of losing you to someone else, of losing all you are to me…” She shook her head. “It’s terrifying.” 

Dean grasped her cheeks and turned her face up so he could kiss her, not softly, not gently. His kiss was all consuming, it was hard and possessive. He pulled away from her and she could barely catch her breath.

His voice was raspy as he spoke against her lips. “You’re an idiot.”

She spluttered a bit and scowled at him, but he just smiled. 

“Sweetheart, you say it took you a long time to realize all of that? Okay. But I’ve known since first grade. I’ve known since the second our dads met up at that park to talk about a Rugaru and I saw you on the swingset. You were wearing a rainbow t-shirt and purple overalls, and your hair swirled around you while you were swinging. I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

Y/N laughed happy tears. “You remember what I was wearing?”

Dean brushed them away. “I think of you every time I see a rainbow.”

Y/N could barely believe what she was hearing. Dean shook his head as though it had been so obvious. “Sweetheart, I’ve loved you every day of our lives together. Even when I didn’t like you, I loved you.”

Y/N hiccupped a sob and threw her arms around Dean’s neck. He put his hand on her back and pulled her onto his lap. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and spoke against her skin. 

“So as long as you want me here, I’m here. As long as I can be yours, you’ve got me.”

She pulled back from him and sniffled. “So…you were lying then? You weren’t sleeping with a bunch of other girls all the time we were broken up?”

Dean shook his head. “Of course not.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “No one else is you, Y/N.”

She kissed him again, her tears mingling with their panting breath. She straddled his thighs and then lifted her t-shirt up over her head. Dean made a choked sound in the back of his throat. He pressed his hands to her waist and kneaded his fingers into her lower back.

“Y/N,” Dean began but she kissed him again.

“I don’t wanna talk about it anymore Dean.” She said as she pulled away. “I know everything I need to know about your past.” She pushed her hands into his hair and tugged his head back slightly so his face was turned up towards her, his mouth open and reaching for her. 

She brushed her lips over his. “You’ve loved me your whole life.”

He grunted as he twisted their bodies so that she landed on the seat with a squeak, pinned beneath his weight. “I didn’t say my WHOLE life. There were like six years there where I didn’t even know you existed.” 

Y/N giggled. “You mean the six years you were alive before we met?”

Dean grinned. “Exactly. I was free as a bird then.”

He laid his hands against the leather on either side of her shoulders and pushed himself up. One knee was sunk into the seat between her legs and the other rested on the floor as he pulled his shirt up and off. 

She reached up and ran her fingers over his smooth, broad chest and down over his stomach. He watched her, a muscle squeezing tight in his jaw, before he took her hands and wrapped them around his neck so he could stretch out above her again. 

She looked into his bright green eyes, shining like emeralds and got lost in them. She picked up their conversation as though they’d never stopped talking, but her voice was breathy and heated. “And you’re gonna love me for the rest of your life, right?”

Dean nodded. “Every day.”

“K, good.” She said, her eyes welling up again. “Me too, by the way. I mean, just in case you were wondering - I love you too.”

Dean’s face lit up but he just nodded and shrugged one shoulder. “Of course I know, I’m smart like that.” He kissed her hard and quick. “But let’s not forget who said it first.”

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays. @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @impalaslytherin @maggiegirl17 @akshi8278 @candy-coated-misery0731 @deanswaywardgirl @slytherinlyn314 @globetrotter28 @jensensgirl @perpetualabsurdity @tristanrosspada-ackles @djs8891 @muhahaha303 @kayyay1219 @emily-winchester @recoveringpastaaddict @maximumkillshot @mimaria420 @sacriceria @envyaurora95 @lacilou @jc-winchester @spnwoman @mimi-luvzyu @jackles010378

2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only. @carryonwaywardgirl @slamminmine

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.) @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @alexxavicry @nancymcl @spalady26 @slut-for-evans-stan

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well) @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @maliburenee @supernatural4life2022 @spn730015 @kickingitwithkirk @waywardbaby @foxyjwls007 @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp @deanwithscissors @myloversgone @snowlovespie @leigh70 @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @charred-angelwings @hopefuldreamers-world @jensensgotyoudean @thoughts-and-funnies @magssteenkamp @princessmisery666 @eevvvaa @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @bernasaurus @jensenslady79 @courtn92 @avanatural @ellie-andthemachine @this-is-me19 @roseblue373 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @fanfic-n-tabulous @k-slla @stoneyggirl2

#dean x y/n #dean x reader #jacklesversebingo23 #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester smut

[thefangirlfever]

DBF! Miguel O'hara x reader (part 2)

Summary: You are finally back in your hometown and get to meet your father's friend, Miguel O'hara.

Tags: fluff, angst, slow burn, F/M, age gap, taboo relationship, mention of death and grief, reader is a woman of color

Notes: English is not my first language.

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

« I tried to tell your uncle I was fine, but you know him… He immediately panicked and never left me alone after that ! »

« You broke your leg, dad... », you reply in a soft voice to him. Well, his body has changed but his wit is definitely the same and it even seems like his tongue has grown sharper. He doesn’t stop complaining to you about his cast, the hospital and how frustrating it feels to be stuck at home all day, unable to do what he actually likes… and you patiently listen to him. It’s comforting to think that he has enough energy inside him to rant about such things.

But all the while he keeps talking, your eyes never leave the other man. Miguel. You remember your dad telling you about a friend he met at his hiking club and the more you think about this, the more intrigued you get. You’re trying to be subtle about your looks as you glance at him from time to time. His large body looks squeezed inside the small flowery armchair he is sitting in. He almost looks awkward sitting there, out of place as if someone tried to squeeze him inside a doll’s house. His wide shoulders slouch down a bit and he almost looks sorry to be there, as if he was trying to make himself disappear into these plush pillows on top of the chair. There’s something almost funny about a man of this size acting this way ; with his hangdog look. You almost chuckle at the sight and you can’t hold back a smile. His eyes flash in your direction after watching your father for a long time, deep chestnut eyes with a hint of crimson inside them. It’s a very unlikely shade that just increases the intensity of his gaze by a tenfold. You find yourself unable to hold his gaze and looks back at your father. But even if your eyes are not focused on him, your thoughts bring you back to the man sitting across you. Did he find you impolite for staring ?

Your father seems to realize something and changes the topic of the conversation as abruptly as he did before :

« At least, there are a few good things coming out of this. You’re finally back home and you got to meet Miguel. Remember him ? I told you about him already. »

You’re not sure what to think about these two things. This place you’re inside of, is it really your home ? You don’t remember the wallpaper being this bland and the sofa looks too big now. Too empty. Maybe it’s the rain outside that makes you feel this way, as if everything was blended into different shades of gray and sepia. Everything except him, the man sitting in front of you, with his deep brown eyes, sun-kissed skin and the bright red of his corduroy shirt. You don’t know what to think about him for now. After your father mentioned him, he slowly sits up straighter. One of his hands rest on top of the armchair and to avoid his inquisitive look, your eyes drift down to this hand. A few black hair run down his arm to his knuckles and a delicate watch girds his wrist. No wedding ring in sight.

« Yes… I remember. Miguel from the hiking club ? My father talked a lot about you.», you finally stutter and your father doesn’t seem to notice your embarrassment. Is the man in front of you feeling it ? It doesn’t seem like because he replies :

« He talks a lot about you too. I was looking forward to meet you. » A subtle heat reaches the back of your ears and you don’t know if it comes from the fact that your father has been talking about you, or the sudden attention from this stranger. A witty comment would have usually left your lips and you wondered if somehow you lived up to his expectations.

“Oh...really?”

An awkward silence fills the space between the two of you, broken by your father again. It seems like he can’t stop talking as if he had kept all these words inside of him, waiting for you to let them come out. That’s how you learned that Miguel was not only found of hiking but also a doctor. The last one in town apparently. If not for the lack of health Service in the region, he would have already retired but he decided to stay. That was admirable of him but the way your father told you about his devotion to the city made you feel awkward. It sounded like a reproach for your own departure. You squirmed uncomfortably on your seat. Surprisingly, Miguel saved you by asking a new question:

“Your father told me you were working for a publishing house?”

You were glad for the change of topic and you slowly nodded your head, finally daring to look back at him. Under thick brows, his eyes were carefully studying your every motion, how you squirmed on the chair, crossed your legs or played with the hem of your sweater, anxiously pulling on a small thread. You could imagine what his patients would feel under his scrutinizing gaze and you found yourself looking at his hands again while searching for your words.

“I do. I am proofreading most manuscripts we get.”

It’s been almost ten years since you left your hometown for college. You still remember the day your parents dropped you at your dorm, their arms full of your boxes. And the way you cried like a baby the night after their departure even if you tried to play it cool in front of them. That’s how your life in the city began, by crying.

Since you weren’t saying anything else, your father told Miguel with a contrite tone in his voice that was unfortunately too familiar:

“Y/N studied English literature in college. She could have been a teacher, you know.” Before you could say anything, Miguel asked you an other question, acting like he didn’t hear your father:

“Do you like that?”

“What?” You tilted your head up, finally looking at him.

“Your job. Do you like it?”

That was a rather unexpected question for you and you didn’t know what to say at first. Did you like your job? Well, to some extent yes. Otherwise you wouldn’t be doing it. But you had to admit that when you knew you would have to take a break to come back home, you weren’t feeling sad. You wouldn’t miss your office, nor the pressure of the deadlines. An awkward silence fell on the three of you and when you felt the eyes of your father back on your face, you hastily replied:

“It’s interesting.”

You were glad that Miguel didn’t ask any more questions, only giving you a small smile as if he was trying to make you feel at ease, to show you that he understood. This was a judgment free look but something about it made you feel strange. He seemed curious. You could tell he wanted to ask you more questions but something was holding him back and so, he only nodded to you before saying that he should probably leave the two of you alone. After all, you probably had a lot of things to tell each other.

The idea of Miguel leaving you alone with your father in this large house that you didn’t recognize, made you panic. You knew that as soon as he would leave, you wouldn’t have any way to escape your father’s questions. Memories of many lonely evenings with him after the loss of your mother flooded your mind. The awkward silence, the non-said, the tension...you were too tired to face this tonight. When your father asked Miguel to stay for dinner, he seemed to hesitate and when his eyes met yours, it seemed like something shifted inside him. The two of you seemed to have a silent conversation because after a few seconds lost in each other’s eyes, he finally accepted your father’s offer to stay.

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< previous chapter / next chapter >

Notes: Chapter 3 will be a headcanon and will come out soon. I know this chapter may not be the most interesting but I'm still crafting the story and the character's background. Hope you liked it!

Taglist: @safixiovi

#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #atsv #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x reader #fanfic #spiderverse #dbf!miguel

[fanfictionalraven]

Sam's Hands

Title: Sam's Hands

Summary: Sam is having a difficult time dealing with Kevin's death.

Characters: Sam Winchester, Reader

Word Count: 852

Warnings: Grief and loss

Author's Note: This story was originally posted by myself under the account Winchestersgirl92. It was published September, 2017.

The first thing you notice as you slowly withdraw from the comfort of sleep is the distinct lack of snoring. The room was far too quiet. You roll over in the bed, expecting to find Sam awake next to you, only to be greeted by an empty space where you know he’d been earlier. You sigh, stretching as you sit up. You pick up your phone to check the time. 3:37 AM. Setting the phone back down, you roll out of the bed. You pick up Sam’s earlier discarded flannel shirt and slip it on over your tank top before leaving the bedroom.

The bunker is quiet as you make your way down the hall; too quiet really. Dean had been gone for about a week now. Cas was in and out of the bunker. Kevin was…you shake your head quickly, pushing those thoughts away as you round the corner. You stop in the door to the library and look in at Sam, sitting at the table. He has a few different books open in front of him but he isn’t looking at them. He’s staring at his hands.

You frown and walk over to him quietly. When your hands touch his shoulders, he jumps before looking back at you. You smile at him and he gives you half a smile in return, turning back to his books. You begin to rub his shoulders gently, feeling how tense he is. He stares at his hands again.

“Sam,” you say, your voice gentle. “What are you thinking about?” He shakes his head slightly and tightens his hands into fists.

“I killed Kevin. These hands…killed Kevin,” he barely whispers. You frown more and move to his side. Pushing the books aside, you lift yourself up onto the table and take his two fists in your own hands.

“These hands were used. You were used. It wasn’t your choice, Sam,” you tell him. He keeps his eyes averted and you sigh, looking down at his hands. You begin to gently massage the two tightened fists as you speak. “These hands…are my favorite hands. They’re strong when they need to be and other times they’re gentle. I’ve watched these hands accomplish so much over the past few years.” Sam’s hands loosen slightly and you smile a little. “These hands have killed monsters. They’ve rescued children and comforted grieving widows. These hands have fought the Devil himself and won.”

Sam lets out a sigh and you know you’re getting through to him. You bring his hands up and press your lips against them, causing him to relax them completely. Smiling, you slip your fingers in between his and give his hands a gentle squeeze. He looks up at you now and you smile softer.

“These hands have brought me back from the brink of death. They’ve shown me what love is. They leave goosebumps wherever they touch me. These hands alone have taken me to highs that no other man has ever been able to,” you say with a slight smirk. Sam finally cracks a small smile and you grin before looking at his hands again. You twist the silver band on his left hand slowly. “This hand in particular may be my favorite. It shows all the other girls that you’re all mine.” He smiles a little more at that. “And someday…these hands are going to cradle our babies and raise our children. They’ll clumsily braid our daughter’s hair and toss a baseball to our son. Or braid our son’s hair more likely,” you say, reaching up and running your fingers through his long hair. He lets out a laugh and pulls his hands from yours. He grabs you by your waist and pulls you down into his lap. His lips find yours quickly and you smile into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I love you,” he breathes out when you’re forced to break for air. He rests his forehead against yours as your nails gently scrape at the back of his neck.

“I love you too,” you tell him. His hands run over your sides slowly. “Now come back to bed. Please. I can’t sleep without you snoring next to me.” He laughs again and his hands squeeze your sides causing you to squeal. “Stop it!!” You laugh as you fall against his chest. He smiles widely and wraps his arms around you tight before burying his face in your hair. The two of you stay that way for a few minutes before Sam loosens his grip on you. You rise from his lap and takes his hands, pulling him up from the chair.

His hands rest on your waist as you walk back down the hallway and to your bedroom together. His hands gently push his flannel shirt off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet. His hands slowly pull your tank top off and over your head before dropping it. His hands carefully lift you up then lay you down on the bed. His hands spend the rest of the night showing you how much you mean to him.

#sam winchester #supernatural #spn #reader #reader insert #sam x reader #fanfic #fanfiction

[dcwildwestfest]

when I saw you all alone against the sky

By an_ardent_rain | @alulangel Art by nickelkeep | @nickelkeep

Coming to Ao3 on April 21st, 2024

Rated M | 20,000 words | No Archive Warnings Apply

Haunted by grief and a love unrealized, Dean Winchester leaves the bunker and his brother and sets off onto the open road. Moving aimlessly along the highways of the American west, he does his best to ignore the emptiness inside him, searching fruitlessly for something he’ll never find. But something is reaching out into his dreams, and the bleak, beautiful landscape he’s been photographing his whole trip has one more thing to show him. 

[Keep reading for a sneak preview!]

When Dean finally forced himself out of the car, the sun had long set.  The night was dark, no light anywhere.  He was completely alone. 

He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the fresh, lonely air, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  All that crying had gummed up his lashes, and his eyes felt raw and sandy.  He sniffed and rubbed at his right eye with the heel of his hand.  It had to have been hours since he’d eaten anything, the last thing he could remember having was that sandwich at the drive-thru for breakfast.  It hadn’t been quite that long since he’d had something to drink, but his mouth was dry and gritty and his head was sore.  A feeling that he was pretty sure was something close to dehydration left his body tired and heavy.  He opened the rear driver’s side door to grab a beer from the cooler in the back seat before he stopped, rethought it.  Instead, he crawled in and reached up to grab one of the loose bottles of water from the passenger seat.  Should probably put a few of those in the cooler, too, he thought.  Maybe he would tomorrow.

He’d been sitting there long enough that the engine had cooled, and he slid up onto Baby’s hood.  Slowly he drank his water and stared up at the vast expanse of sky.

It was almost lonelier than the empty land below it, thinking of all those stars up there, with so much space between them.  Dean wanted a beer.  The biggest problem with a road trip this long, with driving so much, was how much time it meant he had to spend sober.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself, leaning back and resting his head on his hand.  That aching feeling was uncoiling again, unwrapping the barbed wire from around his heart.  It always hurt, but at least when he didn’t think about it, when he didn’t let those feelings free, he could mostly ignore it.  Times like these, there was no staunching the flow; all he could do was let it bleed.

“Cas,” he said, letting the name loose in the cool night air.  No one could hear him.  Not the grass beneath Baby’s wheels, not the wind, not even the stars.  “Cas,” he said again, a little louder.  He let out a long, slow breath and then a low whine, his jaw clenching and his eyes squeezing shut.  “Cas…  Sweetheart…”  He blinked up at the sky.  “I miss you so goddamn much.  I miss you.  Why’d you leave me, you son of a bitch.  Why’d you have to leave.” 

#dwwf #deancas wild west fest #supernatural #spn #destiel #deancas #fic promo #dwwf 2024

[fallingrealms16]

Destiel Fic Recs Part 1

(人 •͈ᴗ•͈)

So this is a little bit different to what I usually post (if you know me I post mostly Sterek content) but I have to remember this account is also all about that Destiel content too!

The Unbroken by casblackfeathers

126K Words // Chapters: 28/28 // 24K Hits // COMPLETED

//EXPLICIT//

Dean’s life had been made of running. He ran from a curse that had desolated his life ever since he was a child — whenever he got hurt, he turned into a goddamn human-torch, killing everyone around him — and he ran from himself and his own self-loathing. But managing all that at the end of a world full of Croats lurking around every corner was easier said than done. Until a mysterious man with tousled dark hair paired with blue eyes as clear as the sky during a hot summer’s day stopped him from free falling, literally. In one fell swoop, the stranger had not only saved his life but also calmed the wildfire threatening to burn everything in its wake. There was something about Castiel that made Dean want to stop running but also hid something darker — something Dean couldn’t quite put his finger on. And between soft, pillowy lips and feather-like fingerprints, Cas could very well shatter Dean’s world and maybe help save the whole world in return.

2. Empty Spaces by thisisapaige

48K Words // Chapters: 20/20 // 5K Hits // COMPLETED

//MATURE//

[Castiel] found the colour. It was a green, one of the few gentle colours at the edges of his dreams and the one he tried to capture in his paintings, never quite finding the right hue. He spent so long chasing the colours, trying to find it though pills and needles, but they always evaded his grasp. Yet he found one, right here, hiding in the eyes of a stranger. He studied the colour, the subtle differences between dark and light, the little flecks of gold nearly hidden in the sea of green, the ring around the outside. He studied it, trying to commit the colour to memory. The other man cleared his throat. “Uh, dude?” Oh. Castiel forgot the colour was attached to a person. ~~~ What if Castiel had fallen before the start of the series and met Dean on a routine hunt? Set in the spring before Dean goes to find Sam in Stanford. Intended as a three part series.

3. brightside by season12cas

17K Words // Chapters: 1/1 // 2K Hits // COMPLETED

//MATURE//

Cas’ arm around his body, well, that just— It feels good. It feels right. So when Dean does fall asleep, he’s pretty sure there’s a smile on his face.

4. Edge of Night by Sinelaborenihil

364K Words // Chapters: 61/61 // 71K Hits // COMPLETED

//EXPLICIT//

Following the events of Season 15 Episode 19 "Inherit the Earth", Dean Winchester finds himself struggling with his grief, despite what seems like a decisive victory. Then, in an instant, everything changes and he is given a second chance to explore what it might mean to allow himself to embrace a certain "profound bond".

5. There's a nail by Flurry_X

5K Words // Chapters: 1/1 // 6K Hits // COMPLETED

//EXPLICIT//

"Years and layers of denial and avoidance and stolen glances are pelted away from his body instantly, with the simple brush of Dean's palms over his skin. And for all that longing, all that swarming hive of doubt, all this time, it was as simple as reaching out." ----- If Destiel happened not with a bang, but with a whimper. Where they both just give into it. Castiel POV

6. There's a rule by Flurry_X

15K Words // Chapters: 3/3 // 7K Hits // COMPLETED

//EXPLICIT//

"He can see the sunburn blooming on Cas’s nose, the messy stubble covering his cheeks, the wet dip right above his lips, his eyes, blue and clear and staring at Dean with a longing that feels like it’s primal and raw and everlasting. And Dean wants to have him, wants to keep this, all of it, but he can’t say it. He doesn’t know how to love him in daylight, doesn’t know how to love him honest." ---- Sequel to "There's a nail" Where they take the road trip and try to figure it out Dean POV

7. Hautley's Bend by ColdIntheStudio

500K Words // Chapters: 42/42 // 268K Hits // COMPLETED

//EXPLICIT//

Castiel Novak is used to change. He's used to being the new kid in school. So when he moves with his family to the small town of Rail Pass, he doesn't expect things to be much different than the last three towns. But then he meets Dean Winchester, an aggressive fellow student who sees Castiel as the shiny new toy he and his friends get to mess with. Castiel has had his fair share of bullies in the past, but nothing like this. He's never felt this way about a bully, or anyone for that matter, before. Maybe something's wrong with him, that he could feel so attracted to someone who makes his everyday life hell. But then again, he sees the way Dean looks at him sometimes. And there's a lot more to Dean Winchester than meets the eye.

#destiel fanfic recs #destiel fanfiction #destiel #dean and cas #dean x castiel #dean is bi #dean winchester #deancas #castiel #castiel winchester #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #alternate universe #books and literature