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v1nsmoke · 6 months

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𝑭𝑨𝑴𝑰𝑳𝒀 𝑫𝑰𝑵𝑵𝑬𝑹 // 𝑨𝑺𝑳 𝑩𝑹𝑶𝑺. 𝑿 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

spooktober week 5 - psycho ace, sabo & luffy

tw: blood, murder, fire, knife/blades, psychos, fire

summary: you accept the kind offer of a man after your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere. what you don't expect is that him and his brothers are a little... off

a/n: i lowkey have no idea how this turned out, but oh well. i was thinking of giving it up multiple times too, but i liked the idea so enjoy!

tags: -

wc: 2.3k

Even after hours of driving, the view around you was still the same, empty, dried out grasslands surrounding the motorway you were driving on. No houses, no people, no cars on the road except you. It felt surreal, weird. You were not prepared for this, neither was your car's petrol tank.

It was almost out of fuel, it was a miracle that it was still moving, but it didn't seem like you will come across any gas stations anytime soon. You already tried to call for help but there was no connection here in the middle of nowhere, your phone was deemed useless.

Just a matter of time and you will be stuck in the middle of the road alone, with no food or drinks. The chances of anybody helping you out were extremely low, given that it has been hours since you saw anybody on the road.

And there it was. Your car gave up, the engine giving out a strange sound, the gas pedal now not doing anything as the car spluttered to a halt. You let out a frustrate sigh, resting your head on the steering wheel in front of you.

What will you do now? No connection, no fuel, no people. Just you alone, surrounded by empty fields filled with nothing. You didn't expect this journey to take so long, so you didn't even bring food or drinks. Not to mention the hot weather. The only reason you were able to endure it was because the car's air conditioner, but now it stopped along the car.

So, you decided to wait. Just when despair started to pull your spirits into the abyss, you heard someone calling out to you. Suddenly, a beat up truck pulled up beside you. You stepped out of your car cautiously.

A black haired, freckled man sits in the drivers seat, pulling down the window. He took a look at your car and determined the problem quickly.

"Out of fuel?" He jokingly asks, already knowing the answer to his own question. "Seems like it" you shrug.

"You know, me and my brothers live close, I can offer you a ride." He offers with a wink. You accepted hesitantly, wondering what kind of person he might be.

You still had doubts, but you followed him anyway, getting into the seat next to his. You were unsure about the situation, but it was better than being stranded here without anything.

It was a mostly quiet ride on your side, meanwhile Ace was blasting his music while singing along, sometimes asking questions and trying to spark a conversation between the two of you. But you always responded with the least words, not fully trusting this guy you just met.

After about twenty minutes, a house comes into view. Ace slows down near it as he takes a right turn, entering the dirt path leading trough the dry grass to the house, a red barn a bit further, surrounded by tall, unkept grass. He parks the truck next to the house, sighing and sending a smile your way as he steps out.

You didn't want to be left behind, so you did the same, following him. You eventually reached a large, dilapidated house. It was bit further from the road, but at least it had a few trees near it. You felt nervous but Ace urged you to come inside.

Inside you found a sprawling house filled with old furniture, paintings, and antiques. It was surprisingly anything but cozy and inviting. The walls were all an old, discoloured yellowish colour with a few slight stains, which was likely plain white wall when the house was built.

The lighting was dim, just some old table lamps. The furniture was dark and wooden, and upon entering the kitchen connected to the living room, you noticed that the couch was a dusty, olive colour. Ace’s brothers Sabo and Luffy were also there.

You immediately grabbed their attention, both of them turning to your direction and they scramble themselves up, now standing in front of you. Both were tall, though the blonde looked older. Was he Luffy or Sabo? You knew their names because Ace just wouldn't shut up about them.

Though, there was something a bit unsettling about them. You couldn't put your finger on what made you feel like this, but you just decided to shake it off, thinking it was because you don't know the brothers yet. They both had wild eyes and unkempt hair but smiled warmly as they greeted you.

Ace joined the three of you, greeting his brothers with a hug.

"This is Sabo, the middle child, and Luffy, the youngest." He motions at the blonde first, then the black haired guy. They both had scars, Sabo a burn mark over one of his eyes, and Luffy had what seemed like a cut under his eye.

They looked homeless if you were being honest, their house giving off similar vibes. But after a short talk, they seemed like nice people, and the mood was not that bad. Luffy was a little stupid, getting into smaller arguements with Ace, while Sabo was acting like the big brother, despite being the middle child.

But as the night went on, the atmosphere in the house changed. The brothers started to act strangely. They began to whisper and laugh, looking at you with a manic glint in their eye. It became clear that something was wrong.

The brothers asked you to join them for dinner. You hesitantly agreed, not wanting to be rude. You were worried that if you refuse they will throw you out. Were they going to poison you? More and more negative thoughts started to fill you head, leading to a loss of confidence. Maybe it wasn't a good idea, especially after they started taking out the food which was supposed to be your dinner.

It was almost rotten, the disgusting smell filling the air. Yes, this was definitely a bad idea. It was time for you to go before they end up poisoning you. So, you take a few steps back, slowly inching towards the front door.

"Stay." Sabo sternly says. You gulp, attempting to swallow the lump in your throat. You were fucked. They probably had weapons, though anything can be used as a weapon if you use it well. If you tried to leave, they can kill you. And let's be honest, you didn't want to meet your end here.

So, your only option was to stay.

"I was just looking around." You lie.

"Sit down." Ace demands, his cheery tone not present in his voice. It was like it was not even the same man you were talking to in the truck.

Over dinner, the brothers made it clear that they knew more about you than you did about them. They kept asking the same questions, and judging your answers. You felt like you were being put on trial. As the dinner went on, they began to ignore you and forget you were even there.

Once most of the dinner was eaten, Ace gave you a look that sent chills down your spine. It was clear that he wanted you to leave. Sabo and Luffy went out and started a fire, while Ace talked to you in a monotone voice. Suddenly, you were grabbed from behind, and you realized that the brothers had been watching you the entire time.

Suddenly Sabo and Luffy jumped up and grabbed you. Panic took over as you began to understand their plan. The brothers were psycho and were planning to kill you. You screamed and struggled as you tried to break free, but it was no use.

"You know, nobody even comes here anymore!" Sabo maniacally laughs, holding a knife to your throat while standing behind you, your back pressed to his chest.

"Maybe because we made sure that the few people never leave, you stupid!" Luffy adds.

"Oh, right." The blonde sways, still holding you close.

"You know, I kinda liked you. Shame that this is it for you." Ace enters the conversation. "Lucky for you, I'll do the honour instead of this dumb blonde."

"No way that's going to happen. I like her more, I should be the one to kill her!" Luffy raises his voice.

"She likes me the best, is that right dear?" Sabo places his chin on you shoulders from behind, looking up at you with his frenzy-filled eyes.

They had some shine to them, the dim, yellowish lighting reflecting in his blue orbs, his pupils slowly dilating the more he stares at you, waiting for an answer.

"Bullshit! I was the one who drove her here!" Ace counters.

"And I- uhhhh I don't know what I did." Luffy tries to argue, but nothing comes to his mind at the moment.

You were stressed, the knife still at your throat along with Sabo's head resting on your shoulders. Somehow this made you feel less uncomfortable, though you would love to escape from here. But how? Three guys ready to murder you any second, no car, no weapons. Hopeless.

"Why don't we let the guest choose, hm?" Sabo's eyes meet yours, animalistic instincts glistening in his eyes like he will tear your flesh apart this second, some of his blonde hairstrands falling in his face.

"Go to hell!" You scream, swinging your leg, landing a kick on Sabo's leg.

The blonde hisses in pain, letting you go, though his knife manages to scrath your neck. It was time to make a run for it. You wanted to call for help, but the house was isolated, in the middle of nowhere, without any signal. Not even your phone could work here.

But still, you had to get out.

"COME BACK HERE!" Ace shouts, his breathing becomes faster as rage fills him. His boots clatter loudly on the wooden floor as he runs after you with big strides, a lighter in his hand. Luffy runs out the backdoor, likely already having a plan.

Meanwhile, you were already outside. You glance behind you and your heart skips a beat. The three psychos are still chasing you. You knew they were coming, but you hadn't expected them to be so fast.

Your feet kick up dust as you sprint through the tall grass. You weave in and out of the tall stalks, hoping that you can outrun them. You can hear their footsteps behind you, and you can almost feel their breath on your neck.

Tall grasses and wildflowers adding color to the otherwise grey and lifeless land. You can feel the sweat dampening your back as your heart races in your chest.

Suddenly, you come to a dead stop. You glance around wildly, searching for a place to hide, but there's nothing, just an endless field of grass. You take a deep breath and prepare to face your pursuers.

But then you remember the barn. It's on the other side, and if you can make it there, you might have a chance. Maybe it even had a shotgun hidden or just a rake. You take off running again, not bothering to look behind you. You can hear them getting closer and closer, but you don't stop.

Finally, the barn comes into view, and you dive inside. You close the door just in time, and you can hear the brothers pounding on the door, trying to get in. You're safe. At least, for now.

They will likely break trough it, it's just a matter of time. You can hear your own breath reverberating in your ears as you search the barn in hopes of a weapon.

"Dear, come out. I don't want to hurt you, it's just Ace and Luffy who want to have you for dinner!" Sabo says from the other side of the door, his voice laced with honey. Was he joking? Who knows. Probably not.

And then you saw it: a tractor, but with a mulcher installed front. Just perfect for you. There was a nail in one of the pillars holding the barn up, a key hanging from it.

Just then, the doors of the barn catch on fire. This was likely Ace's doing, who rushed after you with a lighter. It was now or never, you had to escape. So, you snatch the key, entering the tractor. You were right, this is what the key was for. You turn the key, igniting the engine of the machine.

Sabo's brows furrow in confusion as he hears the strange sound coming from inside the barn.

"Do you guys hear it too?" He quietly asks, his voice trembling.

"Yeah. She's probably just hungry and it's her stomach." Luffy gives a reply.

"Nah man you are just dumb as fuck."

"SHIT! GET AWAY!" Ace screams as something bursts trough the door.

The pieces of burning wood fall to the ground, the dry, tall grass catching on fire. The brothers make a run for it in hopes of escaping their brutal fate. They had two choices: burn to death in the tall grass, or get shredded to pieces by the tractor equipped with a mulcher in front, driven by none other than you.

Ace was a nice guy at first. Offering helpto a stranger is a kind action. Trying to kill them? Not so kind. Cause of death? You drove too close to him. Oopsie.

Luffy didn't do much harm. Maybe he was the sanest out the three of them. Guess you'll never know, poor guy burnt to death.

Sabo was attractive. And sweet too. Maybe if he wasn't such a psycho you would date him. Oh well, in another universe.

portgas d ace, monkey d luffy and sabo belong to eiichiro oda

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caligvlasaqvarivm · 19 days

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ok im not going to tag this but i need you guys to know that my endgame ships for eridan and karkat are

eridan ♦️ karkat

eridan ♥️ roxy

roxy ♦️ calliope

eridan ♠️ calliope

karkat ♥️ calliope

i call it "the polycule only a blood player could love" and although it manages to be perfectly healthy, from the outside, everyone looks like they're cheating on everyone else. nepeta is staring at it going ":33 < dodged a fucking bullet!!!"

Eridan ♦️ Karkat

the ship with the most canon backing. this ship needs to be true before all other ships can be true because it keeps the two of them normal enough to have a shot at romancing anybody else. nobody realized they were pale for each other for an embarrasingly long time because their regular day to day conversations feature slurs and death threats. sometimes looks pitch or flushed from the outside because karkat is a mess who can't stop yelling at people he's trying to romance in the red quads, and because eridan gets really needy sometimes.

Eridan ♥️ Roxy

They get together within five minutes of knowing each other and, despite Rose's protests, never ever break up. Eridan is into cute, pink, bubbly, nice girls, and Roxy is into eccentric troubled princes. Not to mention she fucking loves wizards, and Eridan is a wizard, and that they're both hipsters who use rifles. Also Eridan is weird as hell and Roxy thinks he's hilarious for it. Despite the fact that he puts on this unpleasant, nasty act, he'll pretty much do anything Roxy tells him to, and she likes that. She thinks he has himbo energy. Everyone else thinks she's deranged. Like girl that guy is an insane murderer. Girl he will not stop saying slurs

also their specific abilities are diametrically opposed in an interesting way? prince of hope = can destroy anything he believes he can destroy, rogue of void = can create anything by stealing away its nonexistence. neat!

Roxy ♦️ Calliope

since they aren't trolls and don't need to calm each other down, it's not really a proper moirallegiance, but they're bffffffs and the kinds of silly fun-loving gals who would call their friendship a moirallegiance even if it doesn't have the biological components or serve the social function of one. Two girls that just love each other.

Eridan ♠️ Calliope

biologically, cherubs only engage in pitch romances and are attracted to other cherubs that remind them of the other half they lost in predomination. what i'm saying is that calliope - unfortunately for her - has brother issues. initially put off by eridan's superficial similarities to caliborn - his bluster, his riflekind, his insane logic and thick skull, and how damn often he talks about murder - as they get to know each other, the feeling becomes mutual. eridan is generally totally ok with outright hostility, but calliope's faux-nice smugness when taunting an opponent would drive him nuts, as would the earnestness with which she approaches magic (what kind of POSER needs to RELOAD their WAND), and in general, i think he'd take her genuine well-wishes toward other people as a personal affront, a la "i didn't ever need anybody to look after me!"

they somehow have a 50/50 win ratio at the board games they play, which drives calliope nuts. "believing in your pieces" is not a valid chess strategy!!!!!!!!!

also i think it's fun and thematic, the angel killer and the cherub, whose adult form features hope-shaped wings.

Karkat ♥️ Calliope

We know two things from his crush on terezi: the first is that karkat is into clever, cunning gals, and the second is that he's really fucking messy, the kind of guy who would tell his flushed crush to "set the table on his bone bulge for their candle light hate date." Fortunately, or unfortunately??? for calliope, the fact that he will scream obscenities at her is kind of what she's into. everybody, please, a moment of silence for calliope, who somehow manages to have worse taste in men than roxy.

but yeah more seriously, karkat has a big and loving heart, and so does calliope, while calliope maintains a cleverness and intellect that karkat would be into.

normally, it would be a huge problem for your moirail to be pitch for your matesprit, and we have that both ways here. however, a few factors are mitigating that here. first, eridan will always prioritize karkat or roxy over calliope when they're around. this actually does kind of piss her off, although she feels annoyed that it does. second, calliope is generally mature enough to compartmentalize. third, karkat WILL auspicetize if they aren't careful, and nobody wants that. and fourth, everybody wants to keep roxy happy.

but yeah everyone else watching it is like. are you guys okay? blink if you need help

ofc ship what you want to ship this is not at all me telling you what you should be into. im just saying that these ships have been calculated for Maximum Funnyness, which as we know, is the only objective measure for what makes a good homestuck ship

#also eridan does not actually have an ashen relationship bc nepeta is always ready to intervene #and the mere fucking thought of ending up in a relationship with eridan makes all the eridan hates go #noooooooo. nope. no.

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fairysluna · 1 year

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NOT THE BEST IDEA — Modern!AU | Part 2

MASTERLIST | Part 1 ; Part 2 ; Part 3 ; Part 4

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader x Aemond Targaryen.

Summary: The secret is out, and now you have to learn how to heal your broken heart and how to move on, and soon a cute new guy would help you realize how much you were missing in life.

Tags/TW: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, therapy sessions (bc she needs it so bad), helaena being the best friend we all deserve, brief smut(?, mentions of violence, murder and blood, aemond still is an ass but now he's also obsessed.

Author's Note: I got a little carried away with Cregan’s storyline at the beginning, but here it is!! Hopefully this will meet all of your expectations, your ideas were super helpful so thank you all of you, hope this is worthy of them!!

Word Count: 6.0k

Tag List: @immyowndefender @bellameshipper @mysticgothicgirl @aemondswifeisme @issshhh

Feedback, shares and comments are always welcome!!

You entered the room. You started to pace back and forth around it as the nerves were eating you alive. Your hands were shaky, and the tears soon came back to your eyes; the guilt, the rage and the pain in your chest was making this whole situation too overwhelming. You could feel the panic running through your veins as your beloved friend turned around to see you.

She looked serious, but not mad. Yet, the panic that you felt in the moment, along with the fear of losing her friendship over what had happened, had you seeing her serious semblance as something terrible.

"I'm so sorry, Helaena..." You cried, keeping the distance between you both, too scared of getting closer to her and being pushed away, "I ruined your cake, I ruined your birthday, I- I don't even know what to say, I'm a terrible friend, this is your special day and I ruined it..."

Your words were stumbling against each other, your mind going miles per hour as you could only sense the fear of losing Helaena forever.

“I’m sorry, I’m- I’m horrible, I’m sorry… I never meant to ruin everything.”

The girl walked towards you and hugged you tightly. This action had taken you aback and it took you a few seconds to react. You wrapped your arms around her waist and buried your face on the crock of her neck, leaving her skin soaking with your tears.

"Nonsense..." She spoke softly, as she held you close, "Y/n, you didn't ruin anything, we can get another cake, mum can go and pick one from the bakery, it’s okay…”

“I’m so sorry…” You repeated.

“Don’t apologize, it’s okay,” she reassured you, “But, y/n…” she pulled back, only to look at your face, “you need to tell me what is going on, this is so weird, I’ve never seen you like this before.”

Your eyes closed as you felt embarrassment. You looked like a psycho back there, and you cannot even think what Helaena was thinking about you right now.

“You promise you won’t be mad at me?” You asked, your voice shaky and unsteady. Helaena nodded and you took a deep breath.

You explained everything to her. How Aemond and you started to play around until eventually you were fool enough to fall in love with him, you told her how he gave you your first kiss and then offer you a relationship with the condition that should be secret, you told her that you were with him for almost a year before he decided to throw everything to the trash by a stupid letter.

And of course, you told her how he forbade you to speak about this with anyone.

“Oh, Gods…” Helaena said once you stopped explaining everything, “You had to go through all this by yourself? That’s why you were locked in your house most of the summer?”

“I couldn’t bear to see him,” you confessed, “I loved him so much… Perhaps I still do.”

“And he brought his girlfriend now… showing her around as if he is bragging about it. What an idiot!”

“I don’t want you to change the way you look at him, I know how close you both are.” you said softly, “my relationship with Aemond is now from the past.”

“How am I supposed to see him in the face now that I know how much he made you suffer? He’s the kind of guy we scream at while watching rom-coms, y/n. The type of guy we hate.”

“It’s okay, really.��

“No, it’s not,” she shook her head, grabbing your hands, “you said it yourself, you still love him, it’s not okay.”

“I must be okay, Helaena,” you quickly said, “he has a girlfriend, he moved on and I must do the same thing. I can’t keep crying for him when he doesn’t even care about me.”

Helaena pressed her lips and sighed, “if it makes you feel better, she is old and you're prettier. She is his Philosophy teacher.”

Your jaw almost fell to the floor, “Shut up, she’s not.”

“She is.” she nodded, “he was his assistant and then… they fucked.”

“Oh Gods…” you let out a breathy laugh and you covered your lips with your hand.

“I always thought Aegon would be the one doing this kind of stuff.” Helaena said between chuckles, “You should’ve seen mum’s reaction when she found out, it was hilarious.”

You laughed. The tears were already drying on your cheeks when Helaena pulled you in for another tight and comforting hug.

“You know I’m always going to be here for you, right?”

You nodded, “of course I do,” you said in a soft whisper. “I think it is best if I don’t come to your house while Aemond is here.”

“That’s fine…” she replied.

“I thought about killing him, actually,” you confessed.

Helaena pulled away from the hug and looked at you with a worried face, “Oh, babe…” she cleared her throat, “do you have plans this friday?”

“No, why?”

“You need a therapist.”

Two weeks later, you were seated in the waiting room of your therapist office, waiting for your second session. Helaena made you company the first time, but now she was out of the city with the rest of her family, so you were on your own now. You were sitting as you were looking at the Weather Report on the TV that was hanging on the wall. Your shoes were on top of the chair as you hugged your folded legs and placed your chin between your knees. You were completely bored without the company of your beloved friend.

That day, you arrived a little early. You had at least fifteen minutes to wait before it was your turn. You were trying to distract your mind, counting random things like the tiles on the floor, or the chairs in the room. You did not even notice the guy that walked towards you until he stood up in front of you.

"Is this seat taken?"

You looked up at this guy. Then you looked around the room. Literally every single chair was empty; it was seven o’ clock on a Friday, there was no one there but you, the guy in front of you and the old secretary behind the desk.

"Uhm... I think all the seats are empty actually.”

That made him chuckle, and he showed you his charming smile. He is cute, you thought.

“I saw you last week with a blonde girl, I thought she might have come with you today, too.” You frowned a little, has he seen you before? Was he watching you this whole time? Is he a creep? He soon widened his brown eyes, as if he had just realized how bad his words sounded, “Oh, Gods, don’t think I’m some kind of psychopath, I- I just saw you the other day and- I’ve never seen you before… I usually sit in that corner and the other day I saw you, and- Oh, fuck, did I just made a fool out of myself?”

You laughed. It was subtle but you did. He also chuckled, a bit nervous. You've seen him before, he would usually be with another brown haired boy that Helaena once thought was cute. Perhaps he wasn't a psycho, perhaps he just wanted to be your friend.

"It’s okay." You said, a breathy laugh left your lips, "you can sit." you tilted your head, and he soon sat on your side.

He cleared his throat and stayed silent for a couple minutes. You did not say anything either. You were both unsure of what to say or do now. You saw him from your peripheral view and realized he was glancing slightly at you, as if he was trying to say something but the words would not come out of his mouth. Something came over you and soon you were the one breaking the silence.

"I'm y/n." you stretched your hand for him to take.

He took it, slightly smiling and relieved, "I'm Cregan."

"Are you waiting for your session too?" You asked, trying to create a conversation.

"Umh, no,” he shook his head, “I've come to comfort my friend. He's going through some hard stuff.”

“How bad?”

He sighed, “he found out his father is not his actual father,” he explained, and your mouth opened with surprise.

“Oh, shit…” you muttered.

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “what about you?”

You pressed your lips in a thin line as you really considered lying to him, creating a super dramatic story seemed tempting, but you could not bring yourself to lie to him. Not when he was looking down at you with those sweet, kind eyes.

“My ex ruined my psyche,” you simply said.

“Oh.”

“But I'm doing therapy now so I guess I'm healing my trauma, right?” You tried to joke, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable.

“Right.” He chuckled, “How long have you been single?”

“Eight months,” you then smirked. “Why? Are you going to ask me on a date?”

Cregan grinned after hearing your teasing, “do you want me to ask you for a date?”

“Do you want me to say yes?”

“Perhaps…”

You chuckled, "well, I'm going to answer you once I come out of my session."

"Then I guess I'll wait."

"Oh, you would wait for me?” You spoke with a dramatic tone that made him smile widely, “that's so romantic…”

"I would wait for you forever,” he replied, matching your tone almost immediately.

You felt something in your gut that you instantly recognized. Your smile flickered as you realized what was happening, and you immediately regret it. You were not in conditions to jump into another relationship right now, not after everything you have been through and you knew that very well.

But Gods, he was so damn charming.

You were not able to exchange more words as one of the doors was opened and a thin brown haired guy walked out it. He looked at Cregan with a raised eyebrow before looking at you and smirked playfully to his friend. However, he just moved his head in order to tell Cregan it was time to go.

He stood up and turned to see you one last time.

"I guess I'll have my answer next week," he inferred, "same hour?"

You thought about it. You really did. Perhaps this was your chance to finally be happy with a nice and decent guy, and you were pushing back out of fear. Your heart spoke first, and then your mind wanted to slap you.

"Same hour." you nodded.

He gave you one of those bewitching smiles as he left and you stood there. Feeling so stupid for making this rush decision that would probably bring you big consequences in your future. But you could not help yourself, and at least now you have a week to think about your answer.

You were debating yourself during the whole session, and your therapists immediately noticed that something odd was going on in your messy head. You told her, of course, thinking that she might give you the green light that you were waiting for. You were expecting a positive reaction from her, saying that dating other guys might help you move on… but you knew that was far from reality once you saw her face turning serious and stern.

"Listen to me carefully, y/n,” she spoke demandingly, as if she was giving you a command rather than an advice. “No. dating. until. you. have. healed,” she said slowly, carefully pronouncing each word so there will be no space for misunderstandings, “you are in a delicate place emotionally right now, which leaves you vulnerable and weak towards new feelings and experiences. You might be right; this guy might be your knight in shiny armor, your savior, your future husband… but we cannot risk it.” She leaned over her chair, getting closer to you, “you have to be patient and wait until you have healed from what you went through, understood?”

You silently nodded, thinking about Cregan and his goddamn smile. Now you had no other choice but to reject him, and the mere thought almost made you shake out of nervousness and anxiety. Your overthinking mind did not help at all.

As soon as you walked out of the office, while you were waiting for the bus, you called Helaena and told her everything. And of course, she said she was going to be there for you when the time to reject him would arrive. Perhaps dating this new guy is not the best idea.

A week later, you entered the waiting room with Helaena hanging from your arm. You looked around trying to find Cregan, but he was nowhere to be seen. You felt some kind of relief after you thought he probably left and now you will not go through the anxiety that this situation would bring to you. But you were never that lucky.

The bathroom door opened and Cregan walked out of it, looking as enchanting as the last time you saw him. He had a growing beard now, which made him look even more handsome than he already was.

"That's him." you said to Helaena, she immediately looked at him in a discreet way and she gasped,

"Oh, he's cute..." she whispered before looking your way, "you can do this okay? just explain all the things your therapist said and you will be fine, he doesn't seem like the kind of man who would get angry if he's rejected."

"Your brother didn't seem like a douche bag and look where I am now."

Helaena pressed her lips, "just relax, it'll be fine, you'll see."

Cregan noticed your presence almost immediately –again no one was there besides you three–, and he walked your way with a gentle grin on his face. Helaena saw him coming and she went to sit, pulling out a book from her tote bag. You felt your hands shake.

"I was waiting for you,” he confessed once he was close enough for you to hear.

"You were?" You asked, your voice coming out a bit lower than you expected.

"I’m afraid you owe me an answer.”

You smiled kindly at him, but your eyes showed him the struggle inside your mind. He knew it almost instantly, and you could see the disappointment on his face. You sighed deeply before starting to speak,

“Look, this will sound as a pathetic excuse, but trust me; it is not.” You put a rebel hair strand behind your ear before you keep going. Your hands shook as you were slightly scared of what his reaction might be. “My therapist kinda forbade me from being in a relationship, or even going out on dates, she says I must heal before jumping into a serious relationship with someone new.”

Your voice turned progressively lower with each word you pronounced, and once you finished you stood there, looking at the tall and handsome man in front of you, expectantly. Cregan nodded, softly. Then he clicked his tongue and smiled once again. You frowned after seeing his reaction, and before you could say anything at all, he spoke first.

“What if it’s not a date?”

You froze. Your eyes narrowed with confusion as he chuckled.

“There’s no need to be something else, we can be friends, right?” he proposed, “unless you don’t want to.”

“Uhm… I- I do, yeah,” you nodded.

“Then we can hang out as friends. That’s not a date, is it?”

You couldn’t help but smile, “No, it isn’t.”

“Can I have your phone number, then?”

You nodded, “Sure.”

And that is when your life turned a little better, and you finally were able to heal.

Helaena scolded you, obviously. Saying that it is obvious that neither of you wanted just a friendship, but you immediately said that you would obey the words of your therapist and not get romantically involved with Cregan, no matter how badly you both want it… you were just friends.

Two months have passed since you last saw Aemond, and now you barely thought about him. Cregan kept your mind busy, inviting you to go out and have some fun. To live a little. You were now inseparable. With Cregan you could publicly do all the things that you were not able to do with Aemond. Now you were not afraid of coming across someone you know, and you were not checking your surroundings every minute afraid of someone seeing you together. There was nothing to hide anymore.

Soon you realized that Cregan was the whole opposite of Aemond. Not only physically, but also mentally. While Aemond was more serious, mature and stern, Cregan was unhinged, funny and easygoing. You found yourself thinking many times what you saw on Aemond in the first place, why did you even fall in love with him?

You never told your therapist about your friendship with Cregan… she did not have to know.

Two more months passed, and you and Helaena finally managed to get the apartment of your dreams, right in the middle of town, in a good and safe area. The apartment was a complete mess when they gave you both the keys, and there was a lot of work to do, especially with carrying the furniture, fixing and painting the walls. You and Helaena knew you were not going to be able to do this alone, so you called for help. The next day, Aegon arrived first with a denim overall without a shirt underneath. Soon Cregan arrived too.

Four people decorating made it faster and easier. It only took a week and a half to have everything ready. That same day at night, Aegon had invited his friends, for he said you needed to inaugurate your new home with a big party.

You did not know when, or how, but soon you were drunk.

Cregan was visibly drunk too, Aegon was already dancing on top of the center table while Helaena was taking polaroid pictures of everything, the music was loud and the amount of people was growing each time. You were actually surprised that the police had not arrived yet.

An Abba song was playing in the background when everything happened. When Cregan was dancing with you as your smile was brighter than ever, as your entire body felt like floating whenever he would hold you by grabbing your waist every time your drunk state would make you trip on your own feet. You were singing loud, while Cregan would only look back at you with a tender smile.

Little did you know that his eyes were filled with devotion for you. He really tried to be just your friend. He really did. But you made it so hard, your mere existence was tempting him. Cregan only held back because he cared too much about you, and because he really wanted to do things right with you.

But while you were dancing, that smile on your face and the way your body moved; it just felt right. Cregan made you stop, holding you still in front of him as his hands cupped your face. Your eyes stared at him, and your smile flickered as you realized what was about to happen. The voice of your therapist appeared in the back of your mind, you felt your ears buzzing as you saw him sighing before he started to lean slowly towards you.

You panicked, but you did not dare to move away because you knew you wanted this too. You wanted it so, so bad.

He brushed his lips against yours, tempting you as you felt his heavy breathing against your lips. You softly whimpered, feeling desperate to kiss him, but he seemed to be taking his time to enjoy the moment. Your hands were holding his shirt, as if you did not want him to let go.

But he did.

Cregan felt guilty about his doings, knowing what you were going through, and knowing what your conditions were. He clenched his eyes pulling back, his hands covering his face as a grunt left his lips and then, he left. You felt the room spinning as you saw him leaving the apartment.

You spend the rest of the night drinking, trying not to think about it.

The next day, you woke up at noon. Helaena went to drop Aegon back to his house, and you were pacing around the apartment trying to clean some part of the mess everyone left behind. You just had a shower, which helped you remember what had happened between you and Cregan, and you wanted to punch yourself in the face.

You felt the urge to call your therapist and call in for an emergency session because you were feeling as if you were about to lose your mind once again. You were about to dial her until someone knocked on the door. You left your phone on the center table and you quickly went to attend the door thinking it was Helaena.

But you found Cregan on the other side.

“Cregan…” you said softly, “I-”

“I forgot my keys last night,” he said, shyly.

“Oh,” you said, a bit disappointed, but you let him in either way.

He walked past you, and you closed your eyes once you smelled his sweet cologne. You followed him towards the living room where he found his keys under the cushions of the sofa. You could only stare at him, the tension between you both was too obvious and you hated it. It felt so odd and uncomfortable, you felt guilty for it.

“Cregan, about last night-”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted you, “I know I shouldn’t have done, but-” he stopped himself before looking at you with pledging eyes, “fuck, y/n, I couldn’t help it… you looked so beautiful and I just let myself go, I was drunk and I wasn’t thinking clearly-”

“You did it just because you were drunk?” you asked. Cregan tilted his head, his keys dangling between his fingers was a sign of his nervousness.

“I did it because… because I crave for you, y/n,” Cregan said, signs of despair tainting his low voice, “I can’t- I can’t help it, I can’t keep denying this. I fucking need you.”

Your breath hitched as you looked at him. His eyes were begging, and you were certain yours were too. Then you could not help it anymore, it was as if he was a big magnet that pulled you in. You quickly grabbed his cheeks, pulling him close to you as you stood on your tiptoes to finally reach his soft lips.

“W-wait,” he said between the kiss, “wait, no. Your therapist-”

“Fuck my therapist,” you interrupted him without thinking.

He pulled away, looked you in the eye as if he was trying to make sure he heard you clearly. He took a deep breath, still holding you close to his body, and he let out a breathy smile before saying,

“Fuck it.”

His lips soon reached for yours again, this time more hungry than before. It was passionate and deep, you both had been waiting too long for this moment to not seize it. His hands roaming up and down your body, desperate to touch you, to feel your soft skin under his big hands. You felt blissful, completely drunk by the taste of his lips.

Minutes later you were in your room, Cregan kissing your neck as he was now claiming you as his. Small moans left your lips while he was whispering nothing but sweet words and praises against your ear that had you drooling under his broad body. He managed to touch every inch of you, to kiss every part of your body, and you could feel your heart bursting with joy and excitement. Your mind would only focus on the man that was now yours, in how good he was making you feel… in how loved you felt between his arms.

Aemond did not even cross your mind, he had been out of it for a while now.

Few minutes later, after you both finished, Cregan looked at you with glossy eyes and a small, tender smile. He started giving you soft kisses around your flustered face while you were trying to control your breathing. This felt even better than sex, it felt more intimate and loving.

Cregan caressed your cheek, and you smiled.

“Does this mean we’re dating now?” He asked with a smirk.

You only chuckled and laughed, “I guess we are…”

He kissed you once again, and cuddled you between his arms. You wished this could last forever.

Once Helaena found out about your relationship with Cregan, she looked at you with a stern look, and, taking over her role as the mum friend between you both, she scolded you. Of course she was not mad, she was just worried about you and what might happen with your mental health if things do not go as well as you were expecting. You reassure her that you would be fine, and that Cregan was not like Aemond in any way.

The next months were blissful. Your little mental breakdown at Helaena’s birthday was now long forgotten. You were doing fine, you have moved on from Aemond completely. However, it would be unrealistic to say you don’t think about him sometimes, mostly because you're curious to know how he is doing. Sometimes you would eavesdrop when Helaena talks with him on the phone, but you would never dare to ask for him… that felt wrong.

Soon a year passed, and Helaena was organizing her birthday again. She wanted to do something small, not being such a fan of big parties. She asked you a thousand times if it would be okay to invite Aemond to the party, and you repeatedly said yes, Aemond was her brother and they have always been so close. It was her birthday, and you wanted to see her happy.

With Cregan practically living in the apartment now, the decoration took little time. He helped you both to hang stuff in the ceiling and reorganize the furniture so there will be more space.

Soon the guests, which consisted of four more friends and Helaena’s family, started to arrive. And you would not lie to yourself and say that you were not deadly nervous of seeing him again. You were scared that you might react the same way as last year. You knew you loved Cregan, but what if Aemond appears and makes you doubt everything? What if it makes you realize that you never moved on in the first place? What if you have a new mental breakdown in front of him and Cregan?

There were so many doubts in your mind that you had to sit for a while, drinking mint lemonade to remain calm. Luckily for you, Cregan did not seem to notice your nervousness, he was busy talking with some of the guests.

And when you were lost in your thoughts, Aemond walked in, but this time he was alone. He stepped into the apartment looking for his sister. You stared at him, expecting some reaction from you, but there was nothing. Nothing at all. Not even a slight tingle in your gut. You let out a heavy breath, relief and more calm.

You laughed at yourself for a moment, thinking how ridiculous you were for being so nervous about it.

“Hi, y/n.”

You froze, your body tensed as you looked up at Aemond. Your jaw clenched so hard your teeth hurt, and your smile faded slowly. You swallowed hard, and the anxiety in your body came back.

“Hi, Aemond.” you said, quickly. “Umh… Helaena might be in the kitchen.”

“I know, I saw her,” he softly nodded, curling his lips into a shy smile, “I came here because I wanted to know how you are? Helaena doesn’t give me many details.”

“You asked for me?” you spoke shocked.

“Helaena hasn’t given you my greetings?”

You shook your head, “no. She hasn’t.”

“Well, I’ve been asking for you a lot, lately… I’ve- I’ve missed you.” He says in a whisper, as if he was embarrassed to admit it. “I have also thought about you a lot.”

“Have you?” you questioned him, raising your eyebrow.

“Yes,” he nodded, “I realized how stupid I was with you and-”

“Aemond fucking Targaryen! What the hell are you doing here?”

You saw him tense as his relaxed face shifted into a rageful one. You frowned as you saw Cregan palming Aemond’s back so hard it made him tremble on his feet. You were about to open your mouth to ask what was going on, but Cregan spoke first.

“I haven’t seen you in years! Are you still jerking off with Ms. Harroway pictures?” Cregan teased him, and you widened your eyes.

“Stark.” Aemond said bitterly, his one eye looking at Cregan with an expression you have never seen before.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Cregan asked again.

“It’s my sister’s birthday.” He grunted, visibly pissed.

Cregan frowned, and you closed your eyes. You told him about Heleana’s brother in the first weeks of meeting him, but you never said his name. Perhaps you would realize that they met each other before. Now Cregan looked at you with concern, as if he was asking whether this is the brother who broke your heart.

“Wait, you’re Helaena’s brother?” He spoke in a growl.

“I am.” He nodded, unbothered, “I think the question here is why are you here?”

“It’s my girlfriend’s apartment.” Cregan said.

Aemond frowned, angry, “you’re dating Helaena?”

“No, I’m dating y/n.”

Aemond’s face fell with an indescribable rage. You didn’t notice it, for you were too busy trying to have an answer from Cregan about how they both met. Aemond was burning, his blood boiling as he heard you excusing yourself and saw you walking away with your new boyfriend.

He hated it. He hated seeing you with someone else being so happy and blissful. A year ago you were still waiting for him, you were still dreaming about getting back with him, but now you had moved one and fucked another man… and the fact that it was Cregan Stark made it even worse.

The same Cregan Stark that made Aemond be the second best in everything at school. No matter how hard he tried, how many nights he would spend studying for a test or training for the school Tourneys, Cregan would always beat him. He was Aemond’s biggest nightmare, and now, somehow, he managed to have you. Once again, Aemond lost to Cregan.

Perhaps it was the fact that it was him the one that was kissing you right in front of him, perhaps it was the fact that his ex left him for another man two months ago, or perhaps it was the pettines inside of him, but he was drunk in madness now. He wanted to pull you away from him and break his face.

He saw how he grabbed your waist in the same way he did once, he saw you looking at him with devotion and love as you spoke, making him smile. You were clearly in love with one another, and Aemond could not handle it. He hated it. You should be begging him to get back together, to be with him again. You should be watching him the same way you were watching Cregan.

You should be with him. Not with Cregan.

As the evening went by, things were getting worse for the silver haired man. He had not stopped staring at you during the whole party; each movement, each word and each breath you took were under a stare filled with hate and anger, filled with spite. Aemond would be unable to take his eyes off of you, and with each minute passing by, he would get more and more mad.

He remembered how soft your skin was, how gently you would kiss him and touch him, how beautiful your laugh was. He remembered your scent, your delicacy and playful stares. He would also remember the way you felt against his skin, the way you would squirm under his touch and how your soft moans would be silenced by his kisses.

At that point in the night, he knew he had to have you back. You were his once, and will be his again, he would make sure of it. He wanted you to be desperate for his touch once more, he wanted all your attention and love for him. Only for him.

He was the only one worthy of your love. How did you even dare trying to find another man when he is all that you need?

A hand on his shoulder made him wake up from his trance. He soon recognized the voice of Cregan buzzing in his ears; “I’ve seen you staring at her the whole night,” Cregan grunted, trying to sound calm, “leave her alone, you’ve caused her enough misery already.”

Aemond scoffed, and his daring voice came out, “and who are you to tell me what I have to do?”

“Don’t be a fucking asshole, man. You didn’t appreciate her when you had her, now she is happy. She’s with me, leave her alone.”

He clicked his tongue as a smug grin started to appear on his face, “I made her fall in love with me once, I know that as soon as I speak to her she will be eating from the palm of my hand once again.”

Cregan clenched his jaw after hearing him speaking about you that way. He breathed deep a few times trying to maintain his composure, not wanting to start an unnecessary fight on Helaena’s birthday. Instead, he just let out a breathy laugh and say,

“Look, she moved on… perhaps you should move on too and stop being so obsessed with her.”

Aemond tensed hearing those words. He remembered them too well. The fact that Cregan knew them too was proof enough to know that you had told him all of it, and that was the last straw; what he needed to explode.

In a blink Aemond punched Cregan and cut his cheekbone with his rings. You were coming out of the kitchen with a platter of cookies when you saw them pushing each other. Aemond was beating Cregan while the last one was trying to defend himself instead of punching back. Your heart sank as you heard the guests’ gasp. Alicent was the first one to react, trying to make the both men stop.

Aemond did not hear his mother screaming, he did not hear your pleas. He certainly did not feel Aegon pulling his shirt. His eyes were only seeing red as his hand was still beating Cregan. He thought about not stopping until killing him, to get him out of the way so he would get back to you. Cregan was an obstacle on his path back to you, and he wanted to get rid of it.

His mind was blind with the adrenaline of the moment, too filled with rage to even realize what was happening, and all his negative emotions became even worse when Cregan gave him a punch back. It was not until a group of three men pulled him back that he finally stopped.

He was breathing fast, looking bewildered by his own actions. He looked around, he saw you running towards Cregan as you worryingly held his bloody face. He frowned; you should be comforting him, not Cregan.

Soon Alicent stepped in, grasping Aemond’s arm strong enough to force him to look at her, “What the hell were you thinking?!” She scolded him.

He did not answer to his mother, instead, he looked at you. You were already staring at him with disbelief, and a bit of anger. You shook your head slightly as you were helping Cregan to go to your room in order to heal his wounds.

Aemond clenched his hands, and he breathed heavily. He will have to find another way to make you his again, because killing your new boyfriend was not the best idea.

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fastrainbowdas · 9 days

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Hi hello I saw you didn't want to reach the tag limit on that reblog but I would very much like to hear your full character analysis on dsaf Jack

!!!

HIIIIII THANK YOU FOR ASKING <333333333

ok um. so.

The biggest thing abt Jack's personality is his apathy. He doesn't really care about anything other than his own amusement (and one other thing but I'll get into that later)

Yes, he agrees to help Fredbear (but what was he supposed to do? Just die?) but he doesn't actually Care about the dead kids. It's why he agrees to kill w Dave so easily! In fact, all Dave has to do to persuade him is to tell him how it would benefit Jack and Jack never argues that it's wrong. (I don't think he doesn't know that - he simply doesn't care)

He also... doesn't really care about his siblings either. He says he does, sure, but he doesn't, really. He has no problems killing them on evil routes (and while technically it is only Legacy Jack that does this, it still applies to Regular Jack and I'll explain why in a bit)

Here is where we get into differences between Regular and Legacy; Legacy actually cares about his siblings' deaths (insane, I know). Yeah, that is different from caring about them bcs. as stated before. He kills them in cold blood. lmfao

But he also gets Pissed when Dave flaunts around Dee's scarf and says it's his "most prized souvenir" to the point where he rips his fucking head off. So clearly Legacy cares that his siblings were murdered.

But Regular never ??? does anything ??????? to imply he gives a fuck ??????????? Like sure he says he cares but like. idk considering he knows Who his siblings are now and he has no problem lying to and/or killing them. I'd say he doesn't really care.

Anyway to get to the other thing Jack cares about - Dave! There's no arguing on this, Dave is the only person Jack couldn't bring himself to lie to in the good ending of dsaf 3 and directdoggo has confirmed that that entire monologue was just Jack going around saying "I love you". And we can tell Legacy also cares about Dave, since in dsaf 3, you only solidify the evil path with the line "Dave... I missed you." Which is really fuckin weird to say if you don't care about the person you're saying this to and only want to kill people again? And it's not like Jack can't do it by himself, not to mention Legacy could've easily just. Said he wants to murder again, there's no reason for him to lie about missing Dave. He wouldn't gain anything from lying and Dave was desperate enough to the point where he absolutely would've taken "ok fine lets kill again" more or less the same.

And before anyone tries telling me that Legacy is possessed by Henry or whatever the fuck. That's just misinterpretation of the text. Please go back and rewatch the evil ending, Henry literally STATES he cannot directly control Jack, just talk to him.

SO ALL THIS TO SAY. Both Regular and Legacy Jack care about Dave.

And- that's kind of weird, isn't it? Why is caring about Dave like. More or less the only thing they have in common? Why Dave specifically? What's so special about him?

Well I've given it some thought and. Simply put - nothing. There is nothing special about Dave. What is special is the circumstances in which their relationship formed and developed.

Dave is the only person Jack has gotten to know after he became soulless. Not only that, but they've hung out repeatedly (both the child murder and vegas) so it makes sense Jack would care about him, no?

As for why he doesn't care about anyone he got to know before dying. The most accurate way I can think to phrase it is that losing his soul reset all his feelings.

Anyway. To the part that fucks w me the most.

The similarities between BlackJack and Legacy Jack.

This should Not be a section that I need to make. What the fuck is this. If anything they should be polar opposites, no? BlackJack is literally this guy's soul and they very much clash at the end of the dsaf 2 pure evil ending so what the fuck am i talking about

And I could mention the whole. killing in cold blood thing. But honestly, even Regular Jack does it? If you go w Dave but don't go for the pure evil ending, Jack is still a murderer and all.

So for actual things BlackJack and Legacy have in common that Regular Jack doesn't. The first one that comes to mind is absolutely the enormous ego. (BlackJack thought he could deal with Henry all on his own (which is like. fucking insane. when you actually get to the fight you realize all of blackjack's attacks are fucking useless lmfao) and Legacy LITERALLY LOOKED GOD IN THE EYE AND SAID "I AM GOD". THATS ALMOST KINDA SICK. WHAT THE FUCK DUDE) And because of said ego, they also treat everyone else as inferior!! So that's fun. (BlackJack's entire monologue about how everyone in your party is a monstrosity and he'll show Henry what he's created and if he doesn't feel bad abt it he'll kill him!! And Legacy straight up calling Peter his prey in that one scene)

The last thing is that they're... kind of the only versions of Jack that actually care about their siblings' deaths? Like I said earlier, Regular doesn't give a fuck and both BlackJack and Legacy make it very clear that they're upset about it.

I really like what my friend said on this matter - that BlackJack and Legacy are coping with their tragedy in a similar way, while Regular Jack is coping differently. For BlackJack and Legacy, revenge seems to be a big thing, so it's not really a shocker that the more they care, the more cruel and violent they are. Simply put, caring serves as motivation for doing terrible things.

Um. I am very passionate about Legacy Jack.

Moving on from him though. Regular Jack is really interesting too.

Bcs he doesnt really. change between the different endings. Really, the only difference in Him Specifically between whether he saves the kids or not is just. Does he regard the promise he was forced to make as more important? or does he not give a shit and only think of his own amusement?

Frankly considering that he murders children for kicks and that BlackJack is implied to have been. Very Brutal when killing Henry. It really makes me wonder about what Jack was like before he died (or Alive Jack as I call him).

To me, Alive Jack is the biggest mystery regarding Jack because it's so hard to say what behaviors of all other versions of Jack are a result of Jack's tragedy and what are simply What he's Like. I'd love to say more on this topic but there simply isn't anything to say, all we can do is speculate.

Anyway yeah!! I think that's everything!! I didn't expect it to be so long lmao rip

Thanks for readinggggggggggg :]

EDIT: Hi here's a link to a thread where I answer a few questions :]

#dsaf #dayshift at freddy's #jack kennedy #jack dsaf #dsaf jack #jack kennedy dsaf #dsaf jack kennedy #this has been done since fuckin january #but i never posted it #all bcs i wanted to add a section abt the parallels between henry and jack #but i was lazy as fuckkkkkkkkkk #and only today did i realize that. i dont have to do that #teehee!!

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stellar-constellations · 2 months

Text

Star Patient: Chapter 2 (ONGOING SLOW BURN SERIES)

WARNING: This series will include; possible inaccurate medical procedures and medical setting, gore, toxic relationships that should NOT be replicated in real life, murder, yanderes, cursing, suicide mentions, implications of misandry (male misogyny), and possibly more.

Inaccurate canon-timeline (this is before Ashley and Andrew murdered their parents).

Reader has a small fear of adult men/rape and has a history of suicide attempts.

Incest is not Wincest.

Amnesiac! Obsessive! Patient! Andrew Graves x Yandere! Nurse! Reader:

Wordcount: 4,625 words

Chapters: Chapter 1, current chapter, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 (in the works)

(Y/N) adjusted the name tag on her shirt as she walked to the hospital's entrance, her other hand holding some books and a DS.

Rachael's appointment should be starting soon. I need to hurry so I don't be late. She thought as she sped up.

A security guard was outside guarding the hospital doors but once noticing (Y/N), he stopped her.

"You need to go to the psychiatric branch immediately." They spoke.

"...Huh?" She muttered audibly. "Oh... No, sir. I work in the pediatric branch with Doctor Ryan, he's my superior. You're mistaking me for someone else."

"No, miss. Andrew Graves from room 402 wants to see you now." The security guard reaffirmed.

"...H-he does? That's just... great!" she smiled nervously, a terrified expression on her face.

HE KNOWS I KNOW ABOUT HIM! She screamed in her head.

"Get going before he breaks any more staff equipment." The security guard pressed on.

"Okay, okay!" (Y/N) sighed, rushing into the hospital and to the elevators.

She pressed the button and waited for the elevator to come down, walking into it and pressing the fourth floor button. She waited impatiently for the doors to open and rushed out when they finally did, heading towards the staff room. She unlocked the staff door and filled her bag with medical supplies: a mediscope, a stethoscope, a bottle of water and a bag of pretzels.

She clocked in and sped-walked to Andrew's door, room 402, and hesitated before knocking on the door.

"Go away!" Andrew shouted.

"Hey there! It's me! (Y/N)? From last night?" she called out, her nervousness evident in her voice.

"You can come in." Andrew spoke almost too quickly.

Damn it... She thought to herself, before taking a deep breath and entering the room.

He never corrected me last night when I gave him pet names, so they worked with calming him down. She noted.

"Hi, star! I heard you've been causing some trouble." (Y/N) smiled, her smile twitching slightly, her voiced sounding a little muffled to him.

Andrew opened his mouth to speak, but then paused. Why did he need to see her so badly?

"M... My head." He muttered. "It hurts. I need you to look at it."

(Y/N) couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her throat as she walked over to him. Her nerves were still on fire, but not as much as they were earlier seeing how quiet and flustered he'd gotten.

"Did you do anything strenuous?" she questioned.

"Ashley and I started arguing, then she grabbed my hair and shook my head back and forth." Andrew explained.

(Y/N) wanted so badly to coddle him. To hold him in her arms and dote over him. It’s a bad habit she really needs to break, but the weird part is that she only acted towards that to people she really really liked—romantically. Anyone else she’d feel extremely annoyed and angry (unless it was children, they’re her soft spot).

She wants to have him laying on her body with his head in her chest as she petted his hair, cooing soft sweet reassurances into his ears so that he’d feel better.

What the hell is wrong with me?! she thought, her face and body heating up, a bright red forming.

I’m only thinking this because he’s obviously being treated like shit by his sister. Poor Andrew can’t even stand up for himself against her (literally). She thought.

“Oh, Andrew. I’m so sorry. I don’t know why anybody would do that to you.” She pouted, her body acting on its own as her hands went up and gently grabbing his face, caressing the sides delicately as she looked into his eyes.

His eyes were wide and green, laced with surprise as his face was red, looking as if he was a Christmas decoration with the bright festive colors.

“W-what are you doing?!” he exclaimed, grabbing her arms and pulling away from her, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

“Oh! I’m so sorry! Did I hurt you?” she questioned worriedly.

“N-no! You… you were really close..” Andrew claimed, covering his face with his hands.

Aw! He’s so cute when he’s flustered! (Y/N) thought to herself, a smile breaking out onto her face.

WHAT AM I THINKING? HE’S A WANTED MAN (by the cops and me, it seems)! HE’S MY PATIENT TOO! I SHOULDN’T BE DOING THIS WITH HIM! she screeched in here head.

“I’m sorry! I got too carried away…” She chuckled nervously, her nails digging into her palms as punishment. "I usually work with children as you know, and they appreciate the action. I acted on impulse.

“W-whatever…” Andrew muttered, his face still not completely cooled off.

“Let’s try this again.” She smiled awkwardly.

She tilted Andrews’s chin up (causing wave of red to hit his face just before the other one subsided) and reached into her medical bag, pulling out her mediscope.

“Keep your eyes open.” She instructed, following the same procedures as she did yesterday. “Now open wide.” She directed, pointing the light into his mouth. “Stay still.” She spoke as she looked into his ears.

She noticed blood in them and sighed.

“Either your sister ruptured your eardrums with all her yelling, or she caused the internal bleeding in your head to get worse. You’re going to need surgery for that.” She explained.

“Aw… damn it…” Andrew muttered.

No wonder his hearing was a little muffled.

“I mean, it was about time for the surgeons to get your legs done! They only got your ankles bandaged up, but they haven’t had surgery on your legs yet.” (Y/N) explained.

“I really can’t afford it...” Andrew muttered softly to himself, but (Y/N) heard it.

He can’t afford it? Makes sense since he said he doesn’t have anywhere to go, so I doubt he has a home. She thought to herself before a stupid idea flashed in her mind. What if I… have him stay with me after he’s well enough to leave? she quickly shook the idea out of her head.

No way! He’s a wanted man! But… I haven’t called the cops on him yet, so I’m already committing a crime. Who cares if I get more years to my sentence for housing this man under my roof, feeding, sheltering, and spending time (loving) with him? she thought.

“Don’t worry about it, I feel we’ll find a way!” (Y/N) beamed. “Now, here’s the deal. I’m going to get the doctors to get surgery done on you, then when your head is all better and dandy, I’ll show you the collection of books and video games I specifically picked out for you~” she spoke, dragging her tone out to make the deal appeal more tempting.

Specially picked out? Andrew thought.

His interest was piqued instantly.

“Yeah, whatever…” Andrew huffed, crossing his arms and adverting his head to the side.

“Great! You’ll behave and listen to what they say, right?” She questioned a little sternly, her hands on her hips.

“…Yes…” Andrew hissed through his teeth reluctantly.

“Alright. I’ll be right back.” She smiled, walking out of the room.

A few minutes later she came in rolling a wheelchair and a security guard.

“Careful with him now.” She instructed to the guard.

The guard picked up Andrew and placed him on the wheelchair, dropping him a little carelessly and causing him to wince.

“Oi! I said careful!” (Y/N) snapped, resisting the urge to hit the guard in the back of the head.

“Sorry, ma’am…” the guard muttered.

The guard rolled Andrew out of the room and followed as (Y/N) walked around the hospital aimlessly, forgetting where the neurologic branch was.

“Ma’am… are you lost?” the guard asked.

“No!” she quickly declared before looking around. “I’m testing you to know if you’re paying attention.”

“I’ve been here for five years.” He deadpanned.

“…I have to keep your mind sharp.” She claimed weakly. “But lead the way please, since you’re so confident.”

She followed the guard and Andrew as they headed to the correct branch. She knocked on the staff’s door then unlocked it with her key.

“Hello!” she smiled.

“It’s lunch break for us. What?” one of the surgeons questioned rudely.

“Be nice! There’s a patient.” A younger surgeon spoke, peeking from over the surgeon's shoulder. “How can we help?”

“Andrew here has internal bleeding in his brain and we need surgery done pronto.” She ordered.

“Lunch break~” the older surgeon sang, taking a bite out of his food.

“Pink slip~” she sung back. “I’ll get you fired for rejecting care to a patient in need. He’s your top priority right now, so get him on that operating table.” She ordered. "Please."

What’s with all the nurses and doctors here? Andrew thought to himself, not exactly believing the healthcare here is the safest.

Well, that should be expected considering his old town's doctors had ads recommending euthanasia for suicidal people.

“Fine.” They sighed.

“I’ll be back in three hours okay? By then your surgery should be done. You listen to their instructions, okay?” she spoke, patting Andrew on the shoulder before leaving.

I’m left with these guys? Andrew thought, watching (Y/N) leave him alone.

While Andrew got prepped for his surgery, (Y/N) had other matters to attend to. She checked her watch.

Rachael’s appointment is just about done and Joseph’s will be on in ten minutes. I can make it in time for Joesph. She thought, racing to the elevator and hopping in.

She hit the second button and watched as the doors closed, waiting impatiently for them to open up. She ran out and to Doctor Ryan’s office, room 213.

She knocked on the door and waited a few seconds for the affirmative.

“Come in.” Doctor Ryan called out.

(Y/N) opened the door and saw it was only Doctor Ryan.

So I missed the lesson… she thought, letting out a groan.

“I’m sorry, sir. I had to attend to patient 402.” She sighed.

“I heard about it. Seems like you got a secret admirer.” Doctor Ryan teased as he cleaned the seats in the room with a Clorox wipe.

“Har har har…” She laughed sarcastically. “But I do apologize about it. I wasn’t expecting to go to him until after my shift.”

“Yeah, I heard he has quite a temper with anyone but you.” Doctor smiled.

“Don’t start it.” I sighed, ignoring the sudden increase of my heartbeat. “Anything planned for Joseph? Or is it a typical check-up?”

“After his check-up you’re going to give him a flu shot.” Doctor explained.

“Oh… no thanks…” She smiled nervously. “I don’t do good with needles.”

I almost puked when I had to give a shot to a test dummy back in my college test room… She thought, the memory making her queasy already.

“You’ll do fine. Now go get him.” Doctor Ryan smiled.

(Y/N) sighed and grabbed a clipboard and pen Doctor Ryan readied for her and walked out of the room, making her way to the waiting room. She opened the door and cleared her throat.

“Joseph Stall?” she called out.

A set of adults and their son stood up, walking towards her and into the hallway.

“Hey there! Turn right and go to the scale.” She smiled politely as she closed the door being him.

She followed them to the scale and readied her clipboard.

“Alright, take off your shoes and step on the scale, please.” (Y/N) requested.

Joesph complied and took off his blue crocs, standing on the scale. She wrote down his weight.

52 pounds, in the average zone.

“Now step off the scale and stand up straight.” She instructed.

Joesph fixed his posture and stood up straight in front of the wall’s ruler.

3’9” feet, also average height for his age. She noted, writing it down.

“Alright. Let’s go to our room. Follow me, please.” (Y/N) spoke.

She guided them to Doctor Ryan’s room, 214, and opened the door.

“Hey! Come take a seat.” Doctor Ryan beamed.

Joesph used a step stool to get up on the terribly cushioned bed and waited for the doctors instructions.

“(Y/N), do your thing.” Doctor Ryan nodded.

“Alrighty. Let’s start by checking your eyes.” She smiled, pulling out her mediscope.

�� She got close and looked at his eyes, seeing no trouble whatsoever.

“And your mouth. Say ‘aaaah’” She spoke, giving an example.

“Aaaah.” Joesph voiced.

“And your ears.” She spoke, getting to his side and looking into them.

Nothing. All dandy.

“Looks good.” She smiled, putting her mediscope back into her bag.

She grabbed a reflex hammer from Doctor Ryan’s hand and moved to Joesph’s side so she wasn’t in front of him. She gave him a gentle tap on his knee, causing his knee to kick slightly.

“Good. Now your heart.” She gave the hammer back to the doctor and grabbed her stethoscope, bringing it to Joesph’s chest and listening to his heart.

She stared at the clock as she waited 15 seconds and counted the beats, multiplying it by four.

96 beats per minute. That’s in the normal range.

“Alright, now take a big deep breath in.” She instructed, bringing her stethoscope to his lung.

She listened to the his inhaling and his lungs.

“Now exhale.” She instructed, listening. “Inhale again… now exhale.” She spoke. “Alright. You’re perfectly fine. Is there any health concerns you’re worrying about?” (Y/N) questioned, looking at his parents.

“Nope.” His mother spoke.

“And all we’re doing is the flu shot, correct?” she questioned.

“Yep.” His mother agreed.

“Great.” She smiled, resisting the urge to frown.

I hate hurting kids like this. She thought.

She walked to the tray Doctor Ryan prepared for her, taking a small package and ripping out the alcohol wipe.

“Left or right arm?” she questioned.

“Left.” Joesph spoke.

“Okay…” She muttered, mentally preparing herself for the kid’s tears.

She wiped his shoulder with the alcohol wipe and grabbed the needle, removing the safety cap and checking for any air bubbles.

“Ready?” she questioned.

“Yep.” The kid replied, looking at the needle.

She stuck the needle into his shoulder and injected the vaccine by pressing down the thumb press, then pulled away.

“All done!” she beamed with a smile, exaggerating her voice to let the kid know he was okay.

The kid stared blankly before nodding.

Wow, kid took it better than I do. What a champ… She thought to herself.

“Spiderman or my little pony?” She questioned, grabbing a box of bandages.

“My little pony.” The kid responded.

“Great choice. One of my favorites.” (Y/N) smiled, opening the band-aid and lined the cotton with his small wound, gently pressing it down. “And here’s a sticker for being my star patient today!” she smiled, reaching into her bag and pulling out a pink star sticker.

“Thank you.” The kid smiled, taking the sticker.

“You’re free to go. Reception is on the left, they'll schedule your next appointment for you.” She directed.

The family walked out and (Y/N) sighed, taking the needle and reattaching the cap, placing it into the sharp objects box.

“See? Wasn’t so bad.” Doctor Ryan smiled.

“I hate needles…” She sighed.

“Hey, do you call all your patients that? Star patient?” Doctor Ryan questioned.

“Yeah? It makes them feel special and happy. It releases a rewarding stimulant into their brains, the pain killer.” She explained.

“I bet patient 402 sure liked that…” Doctor Ryan snickered.

“Oh, we’re still on this topic, huh?” (Y/N) smiled, placing her hands on her hips.

“I mean, you’re not changing the subject so…” Doctor Ryan laughed as she shook her head.

“Any other patients you squeezed into today’s schedule? Or just walk-ins from a here?” (Y/N) questioned.

“Free to do anything until we get alerted.” Doctor Ryan smiled.

“Ah, great.” She nodded, looking down at her watch.

It’s only been thirty minutes since I last saw Andrew. And I really hate waiting around and doing nothing, I’ll go visit Hailey. She thought to herself.

She walked out of the room and out of the walk-in clinic, heading to the room admissions. She made it to room 433 and gently knocked on the door.

“Come in.” A weak voice exclaimed.

“Hey there, hails! How are you?” (Y/N) questioned, opening the door and closing it behind them for privacy.

“Hi, Ms. (Y/N).” Hailey smiled.

Hailey was a small girl diagnosed with leukemia at seven. It’s been three years now since diagnosed and at the moment she’s in stage 3. (Y/N) finds it heartbreaking to watch the blonde girl’s appearance diminishing; her eyes sinking in, her hair growing wire-like and withered, her skin and cheekbones pale and sullen, and her arms and legs losing fat. Her appearance isn’t the only thing fading away, but her hope of surviving it too.

“Would you like some water? It’s still cold.” She offered, already reaching into her bag.

“Yes, please. I’m quite thirsty.” She smiled weakly.

(Y/N) nodded and twisted open the bottle’s cap, bringing the drink to the girls lips. Hailey took small sips before raising her arm slightly, signaling no more. (Y/N) moved the bottle, twisting the cap back on weakly so Hailey could open it later.

“Are you hungry too?” she questioned.

“Not at the moment.” Hailey answered.

“I’ll leave these here for later.” (Y/N) spoke, reaching into her bag and placing down a bag of pretzels on Hailey’s nightstand.

“How do you feel?” (Y/N) questioned.

Right now it wasn’t a normal survey (interrogation) she would give other patients, it was two friends catching up.

“Better than I can be.” Hailey smiled.

Even though Hailey was ten, she knew very well she was dying. It didn’t scare her as much as she thought it would. Her parents slowly stopped visiting less and less, too brokenhearted at their daughter’s rapid-approaching fate. The only visitors she got now was from her check-up nurses and (Y/N).

“Hey, I got you some new books. You liked that last one, yeah?” (Y/N) smiled, pulling out a book from her bag.

“I enjoyed the ending. I liked Charlie’s bravery and courage.” Hailey commented.

“I figured you would. She reminds me of you. Resilient and strong.” (Y/N) smiled, handing her a new book.

“Aw… thanks.” Hailey blushed, the red in her face from the compliment looked as if it could be her normal skin tone, accepting the new book.

“This book is about a library where all the different possibilities in your life that you could’ve had by making a choice, gets played out for you. I figured you’d like it since it’s fantasy.” She smiled.

“Thank you.” Hailey smiled, looking fondly at the cover.

“I’ll leave you to read the first few chapters. Want a sticker before I leave?” she questioned, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, please.” Hailey nodded.

(Y/N) reached into her bag and looked for a green star, finding one and handing it to Hailey to add to her growing collection that laid on her nightstand.

“Make sure to ring the button if you need anything. I’ll see you later, hails.” (Y/N) beamed, walking away from her.

She opened Hailey’s door and walked out, closing it behind her. She looked at her watch, seeing it’s been an hour since she left Andrew.

Two more. She thought to herself. Man, time seems slow today…

(Y/N) sighed and stood there for a second, deciding what to do.

I’ll go back to the walk-in clinic. She decided.

She turned and walked away from Hailey’s room, she’ll return in a few hours to see how Hailey likes the book. She opened the two doors leading to the clinic, making her way to the back rooms and finding Doctor Ryan.

“Oh, just when I was about to call you.” Doctor Ryan smiled.

“Is there a problem?” she questioned.

“You remember how to stitch, right?” he smiled.

“Stitch wounds… yes…” She sighed, sucking in a breath to put her happy face on.

“Come on, let’s get this done.” Doctor smiled, leading her to his office.

(Y/N) walked in and took note of the situation, seeing a distressed boy a bloodied towel that was applying pressure to his forearm.

“Hey, bud. I’m (Y/N). What’s your name?” she questioned, keeping the kid company as Doctor Ryan prepared a tray of tools for (Y/N) that she needed.

“Cody.” The little blond boy rasped out, small tears in his eyes.

“What happened to you?” she spoke calmly so the kid can copy her tone.

“He had a fishin' accident with me. Got the hook hooked into ‘is skin and he ripped it out while preppin' for tomorrow.” The father sighed with his accent, covering his eyes with his cowboy hat to hide his shame.

“No worries, accidents happen.” She smiled.

“I really should’ve been watchin’ though.” The cowboy huffed.

“C’mere dad, you can hold his hand.” (Y/N) encouraged.

The cowboy sighed and stood up from his seat, walking over and holding his son’s left hand, his uninjured one.

“Are you left-handed or right-handed?” she questioned, accepting the tray of supplies and placing it next to Cody.

“Right.” The kid spoke.

“Well, you might have to learn how to write with your left hand after this. But that’s okay, all the kids in school will think you’re so cool, along with the scar you’ll get too if you get one.” She smiled, gently removing the towel and placing it to the side.

The kid has a nasty chunk of flesh ripped out of him from the hook. Either the dad or Cody panicked and ripped the hook out. Well, it's sure leave a scar.

She looked at Cody’s elbow and felt for a vein. She found one and held her thumb on it, grabbing a syringe of lidocaine from the tray and popping the cap, checking for any air bubbles.

“Look at dad.” (Y/N) instructed.

Once Cody looked away, (Y/N) removed her thumb from the vein and replaced it with the syringe’s needle instead, injecting the pain killer.

Now we have to wait a few minutes, she thought.

“Do you play any sports?” (Y/N) questioned, grabbing alcohol wipes to remove the bacteria from the fishing hook’s nasty ends.

“I play football with my brothers.” Cody explained.

“This’ll hurt real quick.” She warned. “And how many brothers do you have?” she questioned, wiping off the excess blood and grime, resisting the urge to cringe as Cody hissed and held tightly onto his father’s hand.

“Three.” Cody answered.

“Are you the oldest, youngest, or middle?” she questioned, wiping inside the wound a little to be extra certain it wouldn’t get infected.

“Youngest.” Cody answered.

“Do you go to school or are you home-schooled?” she questioned, grabbing her medical needle and thread and tying the thread inside of the needle’s hole.

“I go to public school.” Cody responded.

“Feel any pain in your arm? Or has it gone down?” (Y/N) questioned, looking at Cody’s face.

“Gone down.” Cody answered.

“Good. I’m going to start sewing up your wound, I want you to talk to me or your dad while doing it.” She explained. “You ready?”

“Yeah.” Cody sighed.

“Do you get good grades?” (Y/N) questioned, pinching the skin together and sewing up the skin and fat, deciding to go for buried sutures to get the job done.

“Yeah.” Cody nodded.

“Do you like school?” she questioned.

“It’s okay.” Cody spoke, shrugging his head to the left since he couldn’t with his arms.

“I didn’t like school much either.” (Y/N) admitted. “I didn’t like waking up early. I’m glad I work at night now.”

The cowboy redirected his attention from Cody and looked down at her and smiled.

“Where I grew up, we had a farm and got up at 4 o’ clock to work on it. I was homeschooled in the south.” He explained.

“You have more strength than me, getting up so early.” (Y/N) joked. “You too, Cody. I dislike needles. Whenever I have to get a shot, I cry like a baby.”

“Trust me, she does. I gave her one for her practice.” Doctor Ryan teased.

“You’re in school?” the cowboy questioned.

“Yup. That man is my superior teaching me the ropes.” (Y/N) explained, referring to Doctor Ryan who sat back and watched the procedure carefully to make sure she was doing it right.

“I wanted to go to college but my family couldn’t afford it. Hopefully it’s a different story for Cody.” The cowboy smiled, ruffling his son’s hair.

“Especially with all the programs now for the youth, gives the younger generation a better chance for college.” (Y/N) pointed out. “Is there anything you want to be when you grow up? Like a professional football player or a doctor?” she questioned, shifting her tone so Cody knew she was talking to him since she couldn’t look away from her stitching work.

“Construction worker!” Cody declared.

“Ooo, are you going to build tall buildings?” (Y/N) questioned, entertaining the boy and keeping him busy.

“Yeah.” Cody replied.

He didn’t seem like crying anymore, the painkillers help shoo off the pain, for now at least. She thought.

"And... ta dah! You're all done, Cody!" (Y/N) beamed.

"Woah! It looks so cool!" Cody smiled.

"Let's get some bandages on that, so it doesn't get infected. In two or three days, you can take the bandages off. In ten days, come back here and we'll check and see if the stitches can be removed.” (Y/N) explained. “Does that sound good?” she questioned, redirecting her attention to her superior.

“Perfect, perfect! As per usual!” Doctor Ryan smiled.

“Thanks!” (Y/N) smiled, flattered at the praise. “Now, what color star would you like?”

“Blue.” Cody smiled.

“Here ya go!” she hummed, grabbing the stickers from her bag and pulling out a blue star, handing it to Cody.

“See ya in ten days, lil lady.” The cowboy smiled, titling his hat before holding his son’s hand.

“See ya! Reception is on the left. Make sure to be careful!” (Y/N) waved.

“Ahem!” Doctor Ryan coughed into his hand over-exaggeratedly.

“Yes?” (Y/N) questioned, confused on if she did something wrong,

“I don’t think patient 402 would be happy with all that flirting going on.” The doctor teased playfully. "You were awfully talkative with the dad."

“Woah now. He has kids and is like 30, I’m too young to settle down like that. There was no flirting, only polite talk.” She explained.

"Sure thing, lil lady." Doctor Ryan chuckled, earning an unamused glare.

She ignored him, checking her watch, catching his attention.

“Oh, your shift isn’t near over.” The doctor laughed.

“No, I wanted to see how long until I had to go see Andrew.” (Y/N) explained, waiting for Doctor Ryan’s teasing remarks.

“I see. How scandalous.” He chuckled.

“Hardy har har har.” (Y/N) laughed sarcastically. “I have an hour and thirty minutes left. But everything feels like it’s taking so long.” She sighed.

“Here, why don’t you do a run around the hospital? It’s lunch time. You can bring the lunch trays to all the patients!” Doctor Ryan suggested.

“That’s a good idea. Have someone radio in and call off all the lunch ladies to serve lunch, I’ll do it all myself.” She nodded, smiling.

“I meant this branch. The whole hospital is a little excessive.” Doctor Ryan deadpanned.

“No, no. I got this. Besides, I need my steps in.” She spoke. “See ya later!” she waved, taking off.

The second chapter for this is done! This series will also be posted on AO3 and Wattpad!

Want more Andrew Graves content? Check out the Andrew Graves masterlist!

Inbox is OPENfor questions about the story and new plotlines/ideas, not for request!

Chapters: Chapter 1, current chapter, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 (in the works)

#stellar constellations #andy graves x reader #andrew graves x reader #andy graves #coffin of andy and leyley #andrew graves #x fem!reader #fem reader #x you #x female reader #x female y/n #yandere x yandere #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x willing reader #yandere #female yandere

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spacebarbarianweird · 5 months

Text

The Rogue and The Barbarian

Summary: Six months after the game, Astarions asks Tiriel why she's stayed with him.

Pairing: Astarion x OC (Tiriel)

Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, post-game, patch 5 epilogue, named Tav, established relationship, f!tav

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

This line from the epilogue really got me so I decided to write the confession scene featuring my beloved OC Tav named Tiriel.

One night he tells you that these six months of happy memories are the counterweight to two hundred years of misery.

Thanks @satanicspinosaurus for the amazing work as a beta-reader. Your comments and suggestions were super helpful.

Tiriel is a half-elf Barbarian with Chaotic Good allignment. More about her here

Steam rises over a small pond at the back of the cave, and it almost looks as good as a hot bath in the inn. The warm spring nicely heats the air, contrasting to the cold nights Astarion and Tiriel have faced for the last few months.

Six months, to be precise.

Astarion cautiously approaches the pond. The murky surface can’t reflect anyone, and the vampire touches the water.

"Go on, I'll join you!" Tiriel says, and her voice echoes in the cave.

"Don't make me wait too long, then," he answers.

Six months ago, the tadpole which allowed him to walk in the sun dissapeared. Six months ago, the insane adventure he had found himself in was over. Six months ago, he murdered the monster who had made him a vampire.

Six months ago, he became free.

Astarion undresses, laying his clothes beside the pool. The clothes are dirty with blood, and so is he.

Being naked feels weird and uneasy. The sense of vulnerability returns as he sits at the pond's edge, submerging his legs in warm water.

It would be naïve to believe his demons and darkness would disappear after the monster's death. That the gnawing void in his chest would somehow miraculously heal in one day. His darkness lingers in his mind daily, devouring thoughts and sanity. The only thing he can do is fight.

Astarion takes a piece of cloth and starts washing dirt off his skin. If only it was possible to wash away all the non-consensual touches he'd endured over years. To forget, to peel it off.

If only…

A soft thump takes Astarion out of his thoughts, and he sees a pile of clothes getting bigger – adding Tiriel's trousers and shirt under her armor.

Tiriel stays at the edge beside him for a heartbeat and then jumps into the water, splashing Astarion with a warm wave.

"Finally!" the half-elf says, returning to the surface and sitting at the pond's edge.

Astarion can't take his eyes away from Tiriel. Hair, red as fire. Her right eye is greyish blue, like the autumn sky. The other used to be green as spring before the hag had transformed it.

Freckles dance all over her body, especially plenty on her back. Half-elven ears with a thin scar on one of them. Breasts, small and perky. A bigger bottom. "Elven tits but human butt!" she once told him after receiving yet another playful slap from him. Hands so elegant and feminine, elven-like. Legs more human-like, thick, and strong.

She is stuck between two worlds and takes the best from both.

Tiriel the Barbarian is a woman of no kin and no home.

"Need help?" she asks.

"I am pretty capable of washing myself."

"I know, but do you need help?"

"Yes, please."

Tyrael smiles and kneels behind him with a piece of rag.

"Tell me if it hurts".

He nods. Somehow, being both naked doesn't have anything sexual. It is something else, some new level of intimacy. Tiriel lovingly washes his body, and her touches are gentle and caring. Occasionally, she plants a kiss, and a shiver goes down his spine.

Astarion relaxes, closing his eyes like a content cat. His world reduces to the sound of dripping water and Tiriel's humming.

The song sounds unfamiliar. Sometimes, Astarion thinks he's already heard all the songs and ballads Tiriel knows. Still, every other evening, she chooses another. Sometimes, he thinks she composes them, but she laughs at the suggestion.

Astarion, my heart, do I look like a bard to you? It's just how humans tell their stories.

Astarion concentrates on Tiriel's voice and her gentle caress. She starts washing his hair, massaging the scalp with long, stiff fingers.

"I never heard this song."

“It’s a ballad of half-elves. A human woman falls in love with an elf. She offers him gifts – a heavy sword made of iron, sleeping potions to make him dream, a fur cape to warm him in the coldest winter, a stallion fast as the wind. And he just mocks her. Because human lives are short and their ways are animalistic. But it seems the mocking is dishonest, since half-elves are born anyway."

Astarion catches her arm and presses lips against Tiriel's wrist. She giggles and nuzzles his neck.

"Which would you take if someone offered you such gifts?"

"Difficult choice," Astarion chuckles. "I don't think I could pick up the sword; horses fear me. The cape sounds nice."

"The cape enchanted with fire magic - that has its own warmth," Tiriel sings.

"Then definitely the cape."

She laughs. "I would have taken the sword."

"Who would ever doubt that, my ferocious love?"

Tiriel hugs Astarion from behind, placing her cheek on the upper part of his scars. Her grip is tight, as if she tries not to let him fall.

Astarion places a palm over her hands. Tiriel is so warm. He doesn't want to let her go. If, a mere year ago, someone told him that this would be his life very soon enough-he would bitterly laugh at their faces.

Freedom? A monster dying a painful death? Tiriel? Those things were unreal.

Tiriel finally lets him go and returns to washing herself.

"Tiriel"

She looks up at him. Her eyes were so close he could see the green iris behind the foggy hag eye.

"What is it?"

"Why do you stay?"

She pulls back a bit.

"What do you mean?"

"I – I don't understand why you are with me. You could choose any man but chose me. Why?"

Tiriel is silent and Astarion fears he has hurt her. There is an instinct to apologize, to beg for forgiveness. He shouldn’t have asked.

She sighs. "Apart from the fact you are the most beautiful and handsome man I ever met in my life?"

"Six months ago, I would have thought that was enough."

Tiriel takes his hand. "Look at me, please."

Her smile shines like the summer sun. "You want to know why I am with you? Because you sometimes think that I am with you either for pity or just because of your looks?"

He nods.

"I love you for being brave. For being strong. All these decades of torments and you preserved yourself. You survived where madness was the only choice. You never allowed to break yourself. What can be more heroic? Every day you fight the darkness in your soul – and win. It is an invisible fight but, gods, it's more formidable than fighting dragons and monsters. I can see it. I see it daily, and I admire you for that. Because accepting darkness is easy."

She touches a loose strand of silver hair and kisses his cheek. "I love you for being so smart and good with words. I can't even read – and you know so many things I didn't even know existed! You open a new world for me, every day!"

"You know I can teach you how to read?"

"My eyes hurt when these letters jump on the page."

"Unless the book is enchanted, they are not supposed to."

Tiriel cups his cheek and plants a kiss on his forehead.

"You care about me. You protect me. No one ever did! I am this wild warrior girl who can kill a giant with one swift of her sword. Who can be beaten to death and then stands up with bones broken and wounds bleeding and shrugs it all away. No matter how in pain I was, no one ever asked me how I felt. No one cared. Do you know why people like me drink ale all the time, especially celebrating victories? Because we're in pain. But we can't show it, it's a weakness. And we can't be weak."

Tiriel suddenly turns her eyes away, and Astarion sees a glimpse of pain as if she re-lives those moments. He pictures a wounded woman who drinks herself to numbness while people cheer her for slaying a monster. Then a bleeding half-elf curled up in the tent, hollow and miserable.

"But you – you care. When I don't rage anymore, when I feel the pain and exhaustion again, I don't have to think how to get back to camp and make sure my companions don't steal my part of the loot. I can just fall into your arms and let you take care of the rest. Washing me, helping to undress. You help me with my flesh wounds and broken bones. You wait till I recover – and don't let me risk myself."

"It would be cruel to let you return to the fight with internal bleeding."

"Aastarion, that's the point. I've never had anyone who would do that to me. I never knew I could sleep so worriless. My heart, you are safety. You are protection. You let me hide behind your back. No one ever did. Because if someone with a two-handed sword joins your party, she is supposed to protect you. Sometimes I would vomit blood after the fight and people would surround a delicate looking maiden-sorceress who was just shocked by seeing so much blood and gore. I was always the last one to get the potion or healing. I am Tiriel the Barbarian, after all. No one would check up on me, no one would look after me. But you – you do that. Astarion, you can't even apprehend how much love there is inside you. And how much I need it."

Astarion finally makes himself move and pulls Tiriel closer. She wraps her hands around his neck.

"You remind me of a fairytale I loved as a girl. When I was beaten by my mother and when my stepfather called me a "fairy bastard," I would run to the village healer and listen to his wife telling fairy tales. There was one which always caught my attention.”

"A long time ago there was a warrior woman whose ancestors were giants. She was fierce and strong. One day she got a mission – to kill a monster. She realized the monster was indeed an enchanted prince. She broke his chains and they married. I always pictured this prince as an elf in my head. Like, he was described as someone very beautiful. It couldn't be a human! Human males are ugly. Or maybe it was my own desperate hope my elven father would come back and take me with him".

"And what is more important, you understand me. You laugh at my stupid jokes. You know how to make me feel better. I love talking to you. I never thought I would find someone I would be so comfortable with. Yes, I fell for your looks. For your sweet words. You made me feel wanted, desired. Everything I thought I wasn't. I knew you were manipulating me; it was easy to understand. But I felt good when you dragged me to the woods. I am going to live for fifteen or twenty decades more and I want to live these years with you. I don't want and don't need anyone else."

Astarion stares at Tiriel as if seeing her for the first time. As if they hadn't shared a bed for half a year. It was like she was talking about someone else. Someone he doesn't even know. How come… how come he has her? What a weird coincidence made them meet? Maybe some god was responsible after all. Heard his prayers and made that unknown elf hook up with a married human woman thirty-six years ago.

A married human woman who hated the little girl she gave birth to. Who abused Tiriel and beat her for her mere existence.

"My stepfather once lusted for me and he suppressed his desires with violence. He snatched a knife and cut my left ear off. The healer stitched it back but I have a scar left."

The girl grew up. Survived. Made her way to Baldur's Gate.

Tiriel, with her absolute lack of self-control or respect for anyone, solved most of the problems threatening to break people's bones.

"He told you "No!", I will smash your head against the wall if you don't leave him alone, you drow bitch!"

His very own knight in shining armor. Well, barbarian rags rather than actual armor, but Astarion is also far from an innocent prince.

Tiriel puts her head on his chest as if trying to hear his undead heart. They both don't move, holding each other in silence. Astarion wants to say a thousand words. How much he loves her. How she makes his undead heart ache. How he adores her – with her dark humor, easygoing nature, and bravery.

But he can't. The words are stuck in his throat; meanwhile, Tiriel keeps humming. A song of the north, of the wilderness. There is wind and cold, battles and blood. The smell of burning wood. The rage. The sorrow. And dragons.

Tiriel, the unwanted daughter of the barbarian kin, holds Astarion, and he drowns in her arms. Safety, protection, freedom, love. Such simple concepts and yet so unknown.

He doesn't want to let her go. He won't let her go unless she wants.

"Ok I am freezing and want to sleep. I will be in the tent," She pulls away, shivering. "How do you say "my love" in Sylvan?"

"Salen Aster," Astarion answers, and the words sound like a spell.

"Then see you later, Salen Aester."

He chuckles – Tiriel pronounces the words clumsily with a terrible Common accent.

"Have a good rest, my love."

Being alone is uncomfortable. So he quickly puts on clean clothes, leaving the dirty pile for the latter, and returns to the small camp they had put up. Tiriel is already under the fur blanket but knows she hasn't fallen asleep yet. She never goes to sleep without him. So while she rests, Astarion stays beside guarding her or meditating himself.

Astarion crawls beside her, and she immediately wraps herself around him, placing her redhead on his chest, sharing body warmth.

Astarion concentrates on the heartbeat. He can feel blood streaming around her body. Her short breaths. Tiriel is so alive it's enough for two of them.

"Tiriel"

"Hm?" she looks up at him, her eyes already sleepy.

"These six months we've been together are the counterweight to two hundred years of misery I endured. My worst memory lasted longer than I know you but somehow… somehow it holds the same gravity as those years of darkness. I don't even know how this is possible."

She smiles and caresses his cheek.

"Rage is louder than tears, fire is brighter than shadows. Rags are cheap but fur is paid with gold."

It seems like she wants to say something else, but she falls asleep in his arms. Astarion looks at her with adoration, trying to memorize every small detail of her face.

"Salen Aester", he whispers in her ear.

Tag List

@tragedybunny @caitlincat-95 @tallymonster @astarionsbeloved @lumienyx @fayeriess @elora-the-slutty-songstress @veillsar @astarion-imagine-archive @micropoe10 @starlight-ipomoea @herstxrgirl @theearthsfinalconfession @ashrio20 @not-so-lost-after-all @vixstarria @wintersire @marcynomercy

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zmediaoutlet · 4 months

Text

fic: troth

a gift for @flownwrong as part of the kris kringle mingle -- have a good year, bud. :)

title: troth pairing: sam/dean length: 3200 tags: established relationship, season 10, truth curses

(read on AO3)

It's a sigil, some weird language neither of them recognize, two inches more-or-less square seared onto Dean's chest under the no-demons-allowed tat, right over his heart. Between that and the fun little gift from Cain, he's starting to feel crowded.

"Why there," Sam says, the jackass. Dean takes in a breath and Sam immediately looks sorry, says, "Wait—"

"Magical sigils tend to follow the ley-fields of the human body," Dean says, "so they can take advantage of belief foci: head, heart, hands, genitals, clusters of veins and nerves. In this case the sigil is inscribed in the place of greatest meaning for the witch who designed it."

His voice rasps. Sam grimaces. Writes it down, too, damn him. Like Dean's a damn wikipedia article he's referencing.

"This is not a question," Sam says, carefully. He ignores Dean's eyeroll. "I wonder how you know this stuff. I mean. I know we've been doing a lot of research but it seems—I don't know. Impossible."

It's not a question and so Dean doesn't know how to contribute. His tongue's felt weighed down, ever since they left that cabin in the mountains. His head hurts, fuzzy like lack of sleep and a hangover headache are warring for which can suck most, but Sam's been in some level of freak-out since yet another who-knows-how-terrible weird mark has imbued itself onto Dean's body and so here they are, at the tables in the library, researching through the night. Dean wants to say, hey, at least this one isn't trying to make me into a murder machine, but he can't seem to speak without being asked for something. Sam probably wouldn't appreciate it, anyway.

The spell leapt from the witch bitch's grimoire as Dean was tossing it into the fire, like it refused to die even as she went down under Sam's bullet. With the grimoire gone they'd probably be up the creek—and yet.

"I'd like you to drink a glass of water," Sam says. Another careful non-question. He sets it in front of Dean. "Your throat sounds like it hurts."

It does. Dean drags his hands over his face, hard, and then drags them over the back of his skull and presses his fingertips brutally into the muscle at the back of his neck that's aching like after a twenty-hour drive. Like trying to shift poured cement. Then he picks up the glass and drains it in cool glugging swallows, until his belly sloshes, and then he leans back in his chair with his eyes closed. Not the worst thing in the world to have Sam coddling him. From Sam, this counts as coddling.

The chair next to him drags out. "Don't hate me," Sam says. That's not a question, either. Dean gives him a sidelong squint and Sam's got his elbows braced on the chair arms, hunched, looking sorry. He's looked sorry a lot, this year. Dean can't say it but he hopes he communicates how dumb he finds the whole attempt is with, whatever, the shape of his ears and the distance apart his knees are set, and closes his eye again. "Yeah, okay," Sam says, quiet. Then: "Why can't you talk of your own volition?"

Dean's mouth opens.

Thing is, he's not saying it. It's like there's some portal that opens somewhere around his voicebox and information pours out from some other place. The answer's something about the witch cursing whoever killed her with knowledge beyond blah blah, but that doesn't mean Dean's got to pay attention to it or knows what it means. His head's killing him, anyway. Sam's writing down something while Dean babbles about a Greek curse originating from Delphi and Dean's just—a speaker, turning in to radio wherever. Crank the volume and listen to him go.

"This is… incredible," Sam says. "Dean, I think—could you tell me anything?"

"Yes," Dean says, and expects more, and nothing comes. Level of detail is all over the place, but whatever it is always seems to be true.

"Huh." A dragging sound: Dean opens his eyes, and Sam's pulled up his laptop, is clicking around. White light washing out his face. "Okay: what website am I looking at right now?"

"Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia," Dean says. When isn't he.

Sam squints at the screen, says, "What's the URL?", and Dean doesn't get to call him an absolute bitch before he starts parroting out: "H T T P S colon slash slash—" although at least Sam looks like he regrets it well before Dean gets to say Oracle.

His throat really does ache by the end and his head hurts bad enough that tears smart at the corners of his eyes. From talking. Somewhere, Sam at age twenty-two is feeling vindicated. The room blurs and he closes his eyes again, grips the table so as not to sway so visibly. "Are—" Sam starts, but luckily he seems to remember to use the massive brain in his massive head and doesn't ask; he touches Dean's arm, instead, gently at first and then squeezing hard. It hurts a little, is warm. Feels good. Dean should get cursed by some kind of dead Big Fat Greek Wedding broad more often.

"Yes or no questions, maybe," Sam says, mostly to himself seems like. Then: "Does answering hurt?"

"Yes," Dean says. Sam is supposed to be the smart one, right? He's testing that now.

"Does… the complexity of the question increase the strain of answering?"

"Yes," Dean says, voice cracking like he's friggin' thirteen, and Sam squeezes his shoulder instead, and then the back of his neck where everything seems to have been replaced by screaming furiously hot steel, and somehow Sam's hand doesn't sear right off so that must be something that Dean's dealing with on the inside. He feels like he should be visibly smoking.

"Hey," Sam says, quiet, and touches Dean's face, and—ah, damn it, the tears have spilled over so his face is all wet. He'd crack a joke about cutting onions but he figures Sam's heard it, and anyway he already got a lecture about autonomic responses to pain when he broke his collarbone, that one summer when they were kids, does Sam remember? None of which he can say but Sam maybe gets it anyway, since he smears his thumb over Dean's cheek and then says, "Stop being a wuss," so Dean can shove vaguely in the direction of Sam's heat, and Sam can grunt on the weak impact and then say, "Okay, c'mon—" and drag Dean to his feet even if he thinks he might faint.

His bedroom. Sinking into the memory foam, his forearm over his eyes. Sam turns on the bedside lamp and Dean flinches, even with the shade, so the lamp goes off again. A few seconds pass before Sam sits on the side of the bed.

"Guess it would've been too good to be true to just get the answers to life, the universe, and everything," Sam says. "Or, I guess we could, but then you'd blow up? What do you think, worth it?" Quiet, although he's just about the one thing that doesn't seem to hurt right now. Dean fumbles a hand down and finds Sam's leg, warm through denim, and flicks him as hard as he can. "Ow." Yeah, that's what he gets.

Sam sits there quiet for a while, Dean's hand tucked in against his thigh. While Dean breathes it feels like the pounding of his head reduces, a little—just a regular high-speed drum solo and not a Keith Moon explosion—and it feels less like he's gonna puke and have a stroke all at the same time.

"One reason we've got to fix this: I don't know how, but somehow I'm missing the crack you'd normally make about me holding your hand." Dean snorts. Sam's fingers move against his pulse. "Maybe later we can try more yes and no stuff. I want to be able to just ask how to get rid of it but I don't want to give you an aneurysm."

Sam's hand moves up his forearm. Dean swallows. Lot of answers they could use.

He expects Sam to get up but he stays. His hand folds over the mark on Dean's arm and stays there. Another pulse point but Dean guesses that's not why. Sam's warm, which is a stupid thing to keep thinking but it just feels so damn good Dean can't give himself too much crap for it—he is warm, and he feels right, and he smells good on top of everything else. Been a long time and everything's been so weird and scary, even scarier than normal which for their lives is really saying something, and he missed Sam, is all. A lot. More than he could say, and now that he wants to say it he can't. His life's a real joke, a lot of the time.

While his pulse slows further he thinks about the last time Sam was in this bed. Six months ago maybe. With Sam hating him and him knowing he deserved it, and how that didn't matter in the face of the dumb physical release they both needed, and how they didn't look at each other and it was dark and for Dean's part at least it wasn't even enjoyable, just—an exercise, muscle being used to its highest straining point and then the relief of dropping the weight, endorphins flooding, making it seem worth the effort. The next-day ache something you didn't think about in the moment. Kind of thing you didn't want to remember in the minutes before you died but it came up in the last flickering montage, the way he'd sat on the edge of the bed feeling loose and nasty and drained and just rotten down through every layer down to the very center where the little kernel he relied on to be himself, to be anyone worth knowing at all, had gotten dislodged and he wasn't quite sure he knew how to find it again. Sam had walked out of the bedroom without saying anything and that had felt right, or at least like the least wrong thing, considering all the wrong that had gone on. On the day he died, that last time, even if getting his lungs perforated hadn't been on the top things he wanted to do that day, that last little fleck of him felt like it got pinned down under the blade—he'd been there, at least, and been able to look at Sam and have Sam see who he was, and all the sorries he'd wanted to say and all the fault he knew was his just bubbled up and evaporated into the dank air and he didn't know, then, how to sum it up. All he should've said to his brother and all he felt and there wasn't time to say sorry for that last time. To apologize for all the times before. To go back, down the years and decades, and say wish I hadn't saddled you with all this, and yet also to say—I'm so glad they saddled you with me, and yet also—you are the best part of me, and yet also—and yet also. How impossible it was to summarize what being Sam's brother had meant and would always mean. Because where would he be, otherwise.

Sam hasn't let go of his arm. His heart beats slow as honey.

"This isn't a question," Sam says. Dean's fingers twitch against his leg. Sam's voice is low, even. "I've been thinking of the crappiest things to ask you. Big stuff, little stuff. Every thing I've wanted to know all my life. Things that happened when I was gone. Stuff I know you lied about. Like whatever happened to the Starburst I was saving in my backpack, that time in fourth grade when I wanted to share them with Laura Harris." It's almost a question but apparently not enough of one, thank god, because Sam really wouldn't like the answer. "I want to know how to get that thing off your arm. I want to know why you did it."

Dean pulls his arm off his face. Sam's looking right at him, in the half-light.

"Thing is, I think I know, but I don't know that I know." He seems like he's about to say something else and bites his lips between his teeth instead. He swallows, and shrugs. "Hard to cut out filler words."

That doesn't make sense but that's not unusual when Sam's thinking out loud.

What Dean can't say:

It was the obvious thing to do. Things were real bad between him and Sam but that wasn't the only reason, or even the main reason, he said yes. There was a huge evil thing that was going to just get huger and more evil and he was presented with the only way to stop it and there wasn't, for him, much more reasoning than that needed to do what was necessary. Maybe if Sam had been with him, Sam would've talked him out of it. Maybe. But more than likely, they would've just argued about which one of them would have to get laid out on the sacrificial altar this time around, and after he'd nearly lost his mind and his heart trying to stop Sam from dying last time, he'd be damned if it was Sam who'd die this time, and—he would've done whatever it took to get the thing on his arm and not Sam's. Including betrayal, as bad or worse than what he'd done to keep Sam alive last time. So, it was just as well. He'd defeated the huge evil thing and all that was lost was himself. Not much of a weight on the scales, really. And Sam would be fine. Sam had proven that, half a dozen times over.

"Your pulse slowed down," Sam says. Dean can't even really nod—that seems to count as communication—but it's obvious, anyway. Sam's cheek sucks in on one side and he looks all over Dean's face. "I guess this might be counterproductive, but—your head still hurt?"

"Moderately," Dean says, and then he makes a face. Who talks like that? It makes a little pulse of pain bloom at the back of his neck where his spine hits his brainstem, but so what.

Sam kinda laughs. "Okay," he says, and then sits there, with his hand big and warm at the crook of Dean's elbow and his eyes still on Dean, and his body there, close. God, has Dean missed that. Six months isn't the longest they've gone but—six months feels like a long time, these days. Knowing how quickly the days can run out.

"Sorry," Sam says, first. Dean sighs and Sam gives him a look. Yeah, Dean's got looks too. Even so, Sam lets go of his arm and then lays his hand heavy on Dean's chest, meets his eyes. "This is a question." Dean raises his eyebrows and Sam holds there, lips parted, like he's really thinking about it. Then: "Do I need you?"

Dean's mouth opens and he says, "No."

If it didn't hurt on a number of levels it'd be kinda funny how Sam's face changes. Full-on blanch, like faced with the nastiest-ever monster. Dean's chest feels like it's been hit with a sledgehammer and he pushes Sam's hand away, struggles up to sitting, only Sam grabs him again by the arm, shaking his head, brow all crumpled, but hell—if they've proven anything in the last dozen hours it's that Dean is a mouthpiece for the truth, the ultimate truth, the truth that's past guesswork and implication and is just actual fact handed down from the universe.

"Wait," Sam says, like Dean's saying any of this crap out loud. Dean twists his arm away and puts his back to the headboard, the wall. Sam lets go with his hands held high, face all sorry. "That's not true, though, Dean. It's not true."

Dean looks at the ceiling, because he can't shrug or shout and he thinks if he tried to leave Sam would just fight him about it. If that's what Dean answers then that's the answer. He just wishes Sam hadn't been enough of a dickhead to prove it to them both.

"God, I can't think how to—" Sam touches his leg, and then the center of his chest, and Dean smacks his hand away but Sam puts his fingers right back, like he's sounding Dean's body for answers. "Do you need me?"

"Yes," Dean says, and really ought to punch Sam in the face for proving the contrast, but as he's grabbing Sam's wrist Sam shakes his head and says, quick, "Do you want me?" and the answer to that is, of course, "Yes," and Dean's just about sick with it. Why is he—

"Do I want you?" Sam says, and then fast while Dean's opening his mouth, "I don't know if that's enough. But I do, Dean. I want you here, and I do need you no matter what—I don't know, maybe not to literally live, but I want you, I want you with me, I want to hunt with you and I want to be here because it's where you are, because—god, do you know why?"

Dean's answers blur from yes to no. Sam holds his jaw, curled in weird on the bed, eyes all over his face again, searching. His hair stupid in the back-light from the hall. No, Dean doesn't know why. "I could make you answer," Sam says, tight, hurt. Dean grips his shirt. "I want you. Do you believe me?"

"I—" Dean says, and his throat stalls. His head hurts but nothing's arriving to fill it.

Sam curls forward, his forehead touching Dean's. "This curse sucks," he says, breath hot on Dean's mouth, and Dean can't argue with that but there's this ringing in his ears that's kind of distracting him. Sam's skin smells so good he can't stand it. "I want you. Is that true?"

Dean nods, the answer whispering out.

Sam's thumb dragging over his cheek, rasping in his stubble. Under his sternum there's the weird panicked feeling of having missed a step down in the dark, where your whole body lurches in unthinking terror, but also this weird tight coil of—of he doesn't even know what. Two true things to hold at the same time and if they're true then how could he not believe them?

Sam's thumb pushes hard under his bottom lip, dents it against his teeth. His head dipping, his temple against Dean's. Dean gets a hand on his shoulder and wants to say—fifty things. Wants to punch him, still. A little. Maybe a lot. Six months, though, and how screwed up they've been. His heart thuds low in his gut and his head hurts but so what. He sits up more and Sam moves with him, his shoulder curving in toward Dean, his other hand sliding down Dean's side.

"I don't want to ask," Sam says, soft against Dean's ear, but he doesn't need to. Never has.

#wincest #my writing #i hope you like it bud #i hope it doesn't fall in the 'guessing game' category lol

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intoanotherworld23 · 10 months

Text

Deep Water III

Characters: Will Miller, Ben Miller, Frankie Morales, Santiago Garcia and female reader

Warnings: Impure thoughts, swear words, mention of killings and murder, lots of drinking, shooting

Summary: The Frontier men have to take you to one of their clubs, and that’s a perfect excuse to get drunk

Hearts, reblogs, and comments are greatly encouraged and appreciated! If you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know so I can add you! Thank you all so much! XOXO

Part 2 Part 4

Check out my other works on Hall Of Hunks

It was incredibly weird sitting in a room with a bunch of mobsters, and yet somehow they looked like normal everyday citizens you'd see walking along the street. They just didn't match the profiles of killers or thugs. You were pretty sure you'd hear all their stories though.

"How long am I going to be here?" They probably didn't know the answer to that anyway but you'd figure you would try and ask.

"Depends on when Will wants to let you go." You didn't like the way Benny said that though it wasn't reassuring that he would even let you go.

"Is he gonna kill me?" Whispering this time as you fiddled with your hands in your lap afraid for the answer.

"He won't kill you." Benny said as he gave you a warm smile. "We can promise you that."

"What if he gets really mad and can't control himself?" You threw on their face as they looked at each other.

"He's not going to kill you babe." Bennys voice a little more stern this time.

"Unless you give him reason to kill you he won't." Frankie leaned forward elbows on his knees hands clasped in front of him.

Not liking the way that he said that at all. What reason would you have to give him to justify him killing you? Surely he wouldn't kill you for simply trying to escape. Everyone who is held against their will or kidnapped tries to escape. That would be a ridiculous reason to end your life.

Then you remembered he mentioned your father and said your last name was keeping you alive. Wondering how he knew your father and why that was so important. You weren't going to stop asking until you got a legit answer.

"He said my last name was keeping me alive." Throwing those words back at them crossing your arms over your chest. "What did he mean by that?"

"We can't tell you that darlin." Benny shrugged his shoulders a sympathetic look on his face. "That's Will's department and should be the one to explain."

"That's bull shit." Raising your voice a little frustrated beyond belief that nobody was telling you anything. "I just don't understand why you guys can't tell me anything."

"Don't worry he'll tell you." Santi responded with a nod. "When the time is right."

Why does the time need to be right? That was such a bull shit answer and reason as to why nobody could tell you, and why it specifically had to be Will. Maybe he knew your father in some way, and something happened between them.

Gasping internally at the thought of Will or his men having to do something with your family's death. If that was the case you'd be more than happy to put a bullet in each of their brains. Then again if they wanted the family dead they would have killed you too.

"So you guys kill people?" Asking no one in particular Santi and Frankie looked at each other for a moment.

"Only if we have to." Benny answered for them making you glance over at him.

"Just like that guy in the alley?" They could sense the cynical tone in your voice making them grin that you weren't as afraid of them as they'd like.

"He knew what the consequences were for dealing with us." Santi responded anyway turning your attention to him.

"So he owed you guys money." You leaned back in the chair trying to figure out the reason they killed him. "And because he didn't have it you guys killed him?"

"Yes." This time Santi looked a little ashamed answering your question.

"Technically Ironhead killed him." Frankie spoke up in defense the corner of your lip twitching. "Just sayin."

Maybe it was just you but Frankie didn't seem like the type of guy to be involved in something like this. He seemed more like the type of guy to be afraid of guys like them. Although you shouldn't judge a book by its cover cause he probably has killed more people than what you'd expect.

"How did Ironhead or whatever become the head guy?" Asking as you looked between the three of them.

"That's a story for another time." Wills voice rang as he descended down the stairs your heads turning to him. "We have to go."

"Where?" Frankie asked as he stood up adjusting his shirt.

"To the club." Grabbing a gun and placing into a holder that was strapped to his hip gulping as you watched him. "Apparently someone doesn't want to cough up what they owe us."

"Is it that Russian guy?" Benny already knew who he was talking about.

"Yeah security spotted him betting money at the poker table." He scoffed loudly as he looked at his phone. "Even though he told me last week he didn't have the money yet."

"Little fucker." It surprised you to hear Frankie talking like that since he'd been so nice to you.

Which probably meant it was just another man whose life they were going to take. It made your skin crawl at the thought of hearing another man beg for his life only to have it ripped from him. Those men they killed most likely had families to go home to. Wives and children that missed them wondering what happened to them.

If you could have avoided being caught you would have ran so quickly your legs would be on fire, and you wouldn't be in this situation. Hearing them justify what they did to other people made you sick to your stomach. This wasn't how normal people should live their lives, and citizens shouldn't live in fear cause of them.

"What about her?" Benny asked pointing at you.

"She comes with us." He said like it was no big deal but your eyes went wide in shock.

"What?" Exclaiming as you stood up looking straight at him but he was refusing to meet your eyes. "Your kidding me right?"

"Will we can't take her with us man." Santi tried to reason with him.

"Yeah that's not something for her to have to watch." Frankie defended his suggestion actually making you feel better they thought about your well being.

"Yeah I'm not going." You stated but nobody was really paying attention to you.

"She's going with us and that's final." Will argued his cheeks turning red making them back up a little.

"You guys can tie me up, lock me in a room whatever." This time they all looked over at you. "But I'm not going with you."

Standing firm putting your foot down in defiance, but Will looked like he wasn't in the mood. Looking over at you finally before stomping his way over to you making you cower back a little from him.

Grabbing your arm roughly in his hand pulling you toward him making you whimper. The rest of the guys stood back not even daring to tell him what to do, but they still felt bad. The feeling of his calloused hands rubbing against your skin was burning.

"I don't have time for your pathetic whiny bitching right now." He sneered at you the veins in his neck popped out. "You are fucking going with us and that's final."

The two of you staring into each other's eyes silently daring you to say something else to piss him off. Raising an eyebrow at you and you lowered your head a little but still kept your eyes locked on his. His lips quirked up into a smirk knowing he won this battle.

It was too soon to be challenging his authority. He seemed like the type of man who didn't like to be tested, and if someone tried to outrank him it would end in blood. You needed to be smart about things, and stay alive as long as you could.

"Well what the hell am I supposed to wear?" Looking down at your clothes feeling these weren't club appropriate. "I'm not going to the club looking like this."

"She does have a point man." Santi agreed with him making you smile. "Our club has a strict dress code."

"She's going to be with us." He growled not liking his men to be agreeing with you so easily.

"Yeah she can't wear jeans to a hot nightclub." Benny stepped in as his eyes looked your body up and down giving you a wink.

"Fine." Throwing his hands up in defeat. "We have spare clothes upstairs."

"Yeah I'm not wearing clothes that your sluts left over." You argued making them all laugh leaving you confused.

"Either you wear the sluts clothes," Will spoke as he stepped closer to you, "or wear nothing at all."

"I wouldn't mind the latter though."

Your mouth about dropped to the floor with his challenging words. Surely he wouldn't make you go to a club with no clothes on they weren't complete animals. Judging by the look on his face though he wasn't playing.

Benny and Santi seemed to also like that idea as they chuckled. A part of you wanted to say wear nothing at all just to see their reaction, but you were afraid that he was dead serious on making you go naked.

"Asshole." Grumbling under your breath as this time he smiled in your defeat.

"Fish show her where the clothes are." Will ordered him as Frankie walked up to you and placed a soft hand on your lower back leading you upstairs.

As he led you to a room you saw a bed and dresser, and that was it. It looked like someone had lived in this room, but there was literally nothing in here. Frankie could see the confused look on your face.

"There are no sluts clothing here." He teased as you just rolled your eyes at him. "By the way."

"This was Yovanna's room." Frankie informed you raising an eyebrow at him wondering who she was. "She's in the hospital in a coma."

"We took all her stuff down so we didn't have to look at it." Frankie looking down at his feet noticing his eyes started to water knowing she must have meant something to him. "We left her clothes though."

"Just in case." He nudged your shoulder with a smile this time causing you to smile back at him.

"What happened to her?" Asking him hoping you weren't going to upset him in any way.

"She was shot a couple times and she just never woke up." Turning to look away from Frankie as you pictured what this woman's room probably looked like.

She was probably a very tough woman to be living with four other men, and she was also most like ridiculously gorgeous too. Or was clinically insane and hated herself so much to the point she would live this life.

Either way it seemed like her story was something he didn't want to discuss. Which most likely means none of the other guys would want to talk about it either.

"Come on let's find you something." Nodding towards the closet opening it to see it was full of all kinds of clothing. "Pretty sure you guys are the same size."

"What about this?" He held up a crop top and matching black leather skirt as you looked at him raising an eyebrow.

"Uh yeah I don't think so." Tossing that to the side he started to rummage through some more things before he settled on a black dress.

"This would look amazing on you." It was plain black with spaghetti straps and it looked really cute.

"Okay fine I'll wear that." Grabbing it from his hands as you placed it on the bed going to take your shirt off when you noticed him standing there still. "Do you mind?"

"Gotta stay here with you so you don't escape." Shrugging his shoulders with an apologetic look on his face. "I'll turn around."

Which he did keeping his back fully towards you as you quickly stripped off your other clothes, and slipped on the black dress. It was snug against your hips, and the ends of the dress went down to about your mid thigh.

The push up bra you were wearing had your cleavage nearly spilling out of the neck line. This dress felt like it was made for you, and you looked incredibly hot in it. You were wearing black boots which wouldn't have been your first choice, but it still fit with the outfit.

"Holy shit." Scratching the back of his neck as he looked your body up head to toe his whole face turning red. "You look amazing."

"Thanks." Wiping your hands down the side of the dress as you gave him a weak smile.

"Alright let's go."

Walking down the steps all three heads looked up to see you standing at the bottom of the steps like you were some kind of mythical creature. Santi had his mouth partially open in shock, while Benny licked his lips like you were something sweet. Then there was Will.

Clenching his hands into fists by his side as he tried to control his breathing. If the other guys were there he would have grabbed you so quickly and bent your over the railing. You were the best damn looking woman he has ever seen, and that dress made you look mysterious and seductive.

"God damn you look scrumptious." Benny groaned as he placed a fist up to his mouth.

"You're wearing that dress all the time." Santi agreeing with Benny as they began acting like horny teenage boys.

Looking down at your feet as all the men continued to drool over you. Frankie awkwardly coughed to snap them out of their day dreaming of what you probably looked like under neath those clothes. Looking back at him mouthing a quick thank you to him.

It made you feel good about yourself for a split second, but then you remembered where you were, and what kind of people you were surrounded by.

"Fuck let's go." Will groaned as he grabbed the keys and one by one you all headed out the door.

Will was struggling to control his hormones, and could feel himself getting hard picturing you in that dress. If the other men weren't here he'd already have you pinned against the wall with your dress bunched up around your hips, and his fingers touching you.

Shaking those vivid images from his mind of what you would look like underneath him moaning his name. He was never the type of guy to let a woman make him feel things. The other guys were most likely thinking that too.

As you piled into the car you were smushed between Benny and Frankie. Santi took his place in the drivers seat and once again Will took his seat in the passenger. You were going to have to figure out why he did that. It seemed weird he didn't want to drive.

For the first time since last night you were feeling good about yourself. You kind of felt powerful with how you made the boys act with how you dressed. Dress like that more often and you could probably walk away without a scratch. Although you were pretty positive you'd have better chance just trying to escape.

"Let's move." Will ordered as the rest of you got out to see a huge line waiting outside the club waiting to get in.

Looking at the club that had green and black lights shining down, and a neon sign that said Venom. There was multiple security guards standing outside, and once they saw your group they all stepped aside letting them by greeting each other with nods.

Guess the one good thing about being around them was getting into clubs without having to pay or wait outside with everyone else. Nobody dared to even groan either as they were let him probably knowing exactly who they were. Getting glares from the other women who looked at you with jealousy.

Walking through the doors there was strobe lights flickering all around the club. The dance floor was packed with sweating bodies, and the bar lined up with pretty woman chatting up desperate men. On another side it looked like there was gambling tables, and VIP booths. Assuming that was where they man they were looking for is.

You could feel a hand wrap around your waist looking from your side view to see that it was Will. The hand that was now applying pressure to your skin was starting to tingle. He didn't seem phased at all meanwhile you were panting and sweating by just a single touch.

"You want anything to drink?" Placing his lips almost on your ear as you all sat in a huge booth gated off from everybody else.

"Uh yeah I'll take whatever." Shouting over the music making him chuckle.

He motioned to a woman who was clearly the bottle service saying something to her as she nodded with a grin. Next thing you knew watched multiple women came heading towards the table wearing lingerie with a liquor bottle in each hand. The middle of the table had glasses, and buckets of ice along with stuff to mix in your drink if you needed it.

This was going to be your excuse to get hammered and try to forget everything that happened over the last twenty four hours. Maybe if they got drunk enough they'd forget about you, and you could walk out of here.

"Let me know if you see him." Will informed the guys who put on their laser focus.

Sitting there awkwardly as the rest of the men talked to each other looking towards the dance floor. Will's main focus was to spot the man they were looking for. Chugging back your drink as you began to make another one.

The burn felt good going down your throat. It was already taking its affect as you could feel yourself starting to loosen up. Bobbing your head along to the beat, and swaying your body back and forth catching the attention of Will.

"Found him." You heard him shout over to Benny who nodded placing his drink down.

"Pope come with us." Bradley ordered as he stood up. "Fish stay with her don't let her out of your sight."

"What if I have to pee?" If it wasn't for the alcohol in your system you wouldn't have said that, but it amused everyone but Will.

"Guess you'll have to ruin that dress then." He had an answer for everything huffing as he turned around leaving the booth.

Frankie nodded as he scooted closer to you watching the three men disappear walking towards the mini casino area. Frankie already knew what was about to probably go down, meanwhile you had a very vague idea what was about to happen.

"You might want to slow down." He suggested as he watched you pouring yourself another glass of straight liquor. "We have all night."

"I don't care I need this." Shaking your glass back and forth as you tossed it back with no problem this time.

"The hangover won't be worth it." He was trying to reason with you but you didn't want to hear it.

"Whatever." None of them had a right to tell you how you should feel or react to things.

"You'll still be with us tomorrow." This time he was being realistic and wanted you to realize there was no getting out of this no matter what you did or said.

"You think I don't know that." Snapping at him feeling your blood boiling. "Why the fuck do you think I'm trying to get drunk?"

"Alright okay you've made your point." Putting his hands up in surrender not wanting to make you anymore angry.

You really didn't want to yell at Frankie like that, but with all these emotions you were feeling you couldn't help it. One minute they could be doing everything to keep you alive, and the next then having you dig your own grave while they shoot you in the head.

There was no way you'd still be here with them if your father was alive. He'd have them all arrested or shot the minute they put their hands on you. Wishing now that he was still alive so you could be back in the comfort of your own house and bed.

"He's not all bad you know." You didn't need to hear a name to know who he was talking about.

"You have to say that he's your boss." Shaking your head at him not in the mood to hear his excuses for him.

"Actually I'm saying that cause he's not just my boss but my friend." Looking over at Frankie this time with a defiant look on your face.

"Could have fooled me." Cocking your head to the side as you poured yourself another shot.

"He really isn't." Scoffing at him as you looked over to the gambling tables unable to see them. "Once you get to know him at least."

"I don't want to get to know him." Before Frankie could say anything shots rang out in the club making everyone scream.

Rough hands grabbing you as he pulled you into him and shielding you from any bullets. Your body was frozen and you felt the full weight of terror strike your body. Trying not to cry as the possibility of death floated in your mind.

You've been around guns before and heard them go off, but it was never in a public place where you knew dangerous men were. In that moment all you wanted was your family, and to hold them and have them tell you everything was going to be alright.

Wondering who was firing and who was hit? Watching as the patrons scattered like little bugs that felt danger, and didn't want to be in the cross hairs of whoever was firing.

"Fucking get her." Was all you heard before someone else grabbed you.

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