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dustydaddyyy · 6 months

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iv: miss you | joel miller x f!reader

flash point (series) masterlist

pairing: pre-TLOU! joel x fem!reader (no use of y/n!) summary: on a particuarly wet night, you run across tess servopoulos and joel miller, and they help you out of a tight spot chapter warnings: canon-typical violence and gore, swearing, nightmares, mentions of stab wounds, FEDRA is basically an authoritarian regime, fireflies are not much better, constant POV-changing (sorry not sorry I'm trying to be an omniscient b), a lot of jokes about joel's old-man status, the slowest slow-burn of slow burns (because I'm trash and like to make you all wait for it), joel is kind of slightly less of an asshole in some parts of this chapter (when is joel not an asshole tbf), !TW!: mentions of parent death and suicide

a/n: *cracks knuckles* time for some character backstory hehehe. also more sam interactions because mark my words he's going to be an important character. we're not going to be talking about how long this took me to post. all i can tell you is that chapter 5 will be up by the beginning of next week, as well, so stay tuned xx K

"I've been holding out so long

I've been sleeping all alone

Lord, I miss you"

It was always the same nightmare.

Same field, same sky, same scream.

You were always frozen, unable to move, watching helplessly as the figure advanced past the barbed wire of the zone slowly, arms so thin they looked like they could snap, shoulder blades visible against the thin material of the dirty shirt. You would watch in horror as the figure spread their arms wide, as if welcoming death, before opening their mouth. The scream always felt as though it were straight in your skull, echoing through every cavity in your body and sending white hot fear through your stomach.

You’d always woken up the same way, as well, sitting bolt upright in bed, gasping for air as your thundering heartbeat echoed in your ears, eyes wide and filled with unshed tears.

Tonight had been no exception.

You try to keep your breathing under control as you sit upright, eyes trying to adjust to the darkness. For a scary, disorienting moment, you have no idea where you are, gaze scanning the room for any hint of familiarity before your brain catches up and your memories fill you in.

Joel's apartment. Joel's couch.

Breathe.

The nightmare hadn't been new, but somehow, tonight, it had been worse. You were used to waking up in cold sweat and having to remind yourself it was just a nightmare, before falling back asleep, but tonight it was different.

Maybe it was the unfamiliarity with the environment, or simply the fact that this one had felt even more vivid and unsettling than the ones that had come before. Your heart pounds like a frantic drum as the remnants of your nightmare cling to your mind like cobwebs, a lingering haze of terror that refuses to dissipate.

It takes a second before your heartbeat settles again. Wiping the few tears that managed to escape your eyes from your cheeks, you try to take deep breaths. Casting a ghostly glow through the half-shut curtains, the moon is the only source of light as it hangs low in the midnight sky. Slowly you lower yourself back down onto the couch, hands trembling as they grip the sheet you'd been given by Tess, eyes staring up at the grimy ceiling. It's a warm night, one of those that makes every piece of clothing cling to your body. You had discarded your shorts long ago, leaving you in only the old but clean smelling t-shirt Tess had handed you before going to sleep.

Desperately trying to close your eyes and go back to sleep, you twist and turn. You lie awake for a good long while, but nothing seems to work, the adrenaline of your nightmare coursing through your veins and keeping your mind awake. Swallowing hard, you take a deep breath and sit up again, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and burying your face in your hands, trying to shake off the lingering fear.

"Jesus," you whisper to yourself as you straighten out, before standing on shaky legs and quietly padding over to the kitchen. Normally, you'd have some shame about walking around somebody else's kitchen in the middle of the night in nothing but your underwear, but thankfully the shirt Tess gave you is too big, and just about long enough to cover your ass. You turn the faucet on, the water coming out a measly and unstable stream, before you cup your hands under it, bending down to splash some water on your face. You're not expecting it to work, but you still find the that the cold water helps ground you a little as you straighten back up, using your t-shirt to wipe the drops from your face.

You try to pull open a few cabinets as quietly as possible, looking for a glass. As you peer into the third one, which is filled with what looks like old coffee tins, a voice sounds from behind you.

"Glasses are under the sink."

You can't help the sharp intake of breath as you turn around to give Joel a wide-eyed look. He's standing –or rather, leaning– against the doorframe of the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest as he peers at you. The dim moonlight reflects off the bare skin of his arms in his t-shirt, and it takes a lot of willpower not to stare at the grooves of the muscles in his biceps, smooth and powerful.

"Fucking Christ, Joel," you breathe out as you pinch the bridge of your nose, "Give a girl a warning if you're going to do that."

"How would I have made sure you weren't stealing if I'd said I was standing behind you?" he asks, and you raise a single, sarcastic eyebrow.

"How do you know I'm not stealing from you, then?" you ask him, and for the first time since you've met him, Joel doesn't seem to react to your inflammatory tone, and he shrugs.

"You'd have looked in those tins," he says simply, and you press your lips together as you realize he makes a more than valid point.

You say nothing as you turn away from him, opening the cabinet he pointed out and pulling out a glass of water. Joel tries his hardest not to look at the way Tess' shirt rides up slightly over the curve of your ass to reveal the seams of your underwear, exposed skin illuminated by the peeking moonlight, but it's a force stronger than himself. It's silent between the two of you as you run the tap and fill up your glass, before taking a few big gulps.

"Couldn't sleep?" Joel asks suddenly, and again, you take notice of the fact that his tone is devoid of its usual gruffness.

"Yeah," you say, turning back to look at him, glass in hand.

Joel's eyes zero in on the t-shirt you're wearing, and he realizes with a start that he recognizes the faded logo on the chest and the once vibrant color of the material. Sure, Tess had appropriated the shirt a long time ago when it had stopped fitting Joel, but seeing it on you still sent a shiver through him. He wasn't sure how it made him feel.

"You an insomniac or something?"

"Sometimes," you say with a tight-lipped smile, "Why are you awake? Except to make sure I'm not stealing from you, apparently."

It's dark, so you aren't sure, but you swear you can see Joel's mouth twitch ever so slightly into what you might've considered a smile.

He shrugs. "Couldn't sleep either, I guess."

Joel wonders if you can tell that he's lying.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that once upon a time, Joel had been someone's father, but he was a light sleeper. This meant that he'd easily been awoken by the sounds of your crying whilst you'd been having your nightmare. He hadn't moved a muscle at first, assuming that you were awake and not wanting to get involved in personal business that didn't concern him, but eventually, he'd heard you wake up with a gasp and a cry and realized you'd been having a nightmare.

Usually, Joel would've relished an opportunity to get on your nerves. Maybe it was the peace of the early hours of the night, or maybe he'd been far too well acquainted with how these kinds of nightmares could rattle you, but he felt no urge to tell you about what he'd heard.

Besides all of that, he also figured it was none of his damn business, anyway.

You let out a hum as you nod, leaning against the counter, eyes on the floor between your feet. After another few beats of silence, Joel speaks up again.

"Do you trust him?"

You look up in surprise at his question, and Joel feels the need to elaborate.

"This. . . Samuel."

You give a nod, letting a breath out through your nose. "With my life."

There's another beat of silence.

"Ain't he FEDRA?" Joel asks again, and for a second you can hear the usual abrasive, skeptical tone. Your eyes move to meet his in the dark, gaze suddenly piercing through him as you give a little shrug and a slight raise of your eyebrow.

"I used to be FEDRA," you state simply, and Joel fights hard to keep the surprise off of his face, "You trust me."

"That's still debatable," Joel says, and you give a small huff of laughter, before taking another sip.

"Fair enough," you say with a nod, your eyes focusing on the water in your glass.

Joel really wants to ask you what you mean when you say you used to be FEDRA, but he doesn't. After a second, you let out a breath, looking up and giving him a semi-awkward smile.

"I think I'm going to try and get some sleep," you tell him, "When all of this has gone smoothly, I still have to work an 8 hour shift."

"You're going to jinx it."

"Anyone ever tell you you're kind of a pessimist?" you tell him with a tight lipped smile, and he shrugs his shoulders, making an indifferent face.

"Not to my face," he tells you, and you nod again as you push off of the counter. As you step past him, you stop for a second to look at him sideways, corners of your mouth twitching ever so slightly.

"Well, you're kind of a pessimist, Joel Miller," you tell him, your voice a semi-whisper, before you move on and away, disappearing through the doorway and into the darkness of the living room.

The next morning, you're gone before Joel and Tess even wake up, leaving nothing but a pile with the folded sheet and the t-shirt behind. You'd managed to sweet talk your manager into letting you open, having no problem letting yourself into the dark Starbucks to go about usual opening activities until you hear the sound of a truck pulling up in the alleyway followed by a few firm knocks at the backdoor. You open the door with a smile, and the soldier that greets you, frowns.

"You're new," he mutters, and you pretend to look surprised, "Where's Lucy?"

"Sorry," you say in your best apologetic tone, "Lucy said I could open today. . .she said she's sent word it would be me instead of her?"

"Fucking tower's been down again because of the storm last night," he mutters, before he takes a minute of silence to look down at you. Then, he sighs. "Whatever, I don't care enough. . . she tell you how this works?"

You nod. "You're just dropping off, right? Someone else comes by to do inventory and handle pick up?"

"Come on," he beckons you out into the alley, where the truck has been parked back first, canvas cover flipped open to reveal the contents of the truck, "Pick up's not until closing time, but someone will be by in a half hour to inventorize. . . he's always fucking late, that one, but he'll be there. Then pick up will be later in the day. . . help me with this, will you? Partner's out sick and fuck knows central couldn't spare me the extra kid."

Together you spend the next 5 minutes lugging crates, barrels and boxes into the back of the Starbucks. When you're done, you give the soldier a blinding smile as he closes up the truck.

"Thanks for the help," he tells you, and you nod, smile still on your lips.

"Anytime," you tell him in a sweet voice, "Thanks for not being a dick about it."

The soldier snorts slightly. "What's your name?"

"Jenny," you lie smoothly, and the soldier gives a small nod, the beginnings of a smile on his mouth.

"Thanks for the help, Jenny," he nods, before giving you a crooked grin, "I'm Jack. I'll see you around?"

"Sure thing," you beam, and it feels almost unnatural to smile this much this early in the morning. Despite this, the smile stays plastered on your face until the truck disappears around the corner of the alley.

There's a rustling sound behind you, followed by a voice.

"Jenny?"

You roll your eyes as you turn to face the source of the voice. Sure enough, Joel and Tess are standing at the back of the alley, having seemingly appeared out of the shadows.

How did they do that?

"I bet there are a million Jenny's in the QZ," you say with a shrug, "Means he'll have a harder time finding me if he decides to come looking. . . now come on, we don't have a lot of time."

They follow you inside the room, and when she catches sight of all the crates, Tess lets out a low whistle.

"This is a lot of shit," she says, raising a single eyebrow as her fingers run over the top of one of the boxes, which is labeled 'Penicillin', "Could sell this for a small fortune."

"I'd advise against it," you tell her as you walk over to one of the 4 barrels of fertilizer, "FEDRA might be sloppy with some things, but the one thing they're meticulous about is the medicine."

"Go figure," Tess says with a snort, before she watches as you grab the edges of one of them, before nodding towards her.

"Help me with this, please?" you ask, and for a second, a look of surprise crosses over Tess' face.

"Please?" she repeats, almost bemusedly, "You got some nice manners for a thief."

"Only cause I like you," you return semi-jokingly, and Tess lets out an agreeing hum.

"Can we focus?" Joel interjects, and when you turn to look at him, he's raised an unimpressed eyebrow, "This ain't fucking tea time, you know."

It takes all three of you to move the barrel of fertilizer back out of the door and against the wall, and when you're done lugging and have gone back inside, Tess gives you a look. "Now what?"

"We wait," you say, pacing slightly in front of the door, and Joel frowns.

"I thought we were on a schedule," he notes, raising another skeptical eyebrow, "On account of the entire working population of the QZ going to said jobs in about an hour, and all of that."

"Thanks for enlightening me," you snap at him, and your mind works overtime as you stop in front of the barrel, heaving a sigh.

Where was Sam?

You knew he was working a shift this morning, this shift, because you'd had a sneaky look at the roster he'd stuffed in his pants pocket when he'd been passed out in bed two nights ago.

"So, this is your great plan? Wait around?" Joel continues, crossing his arms and giving you an unimpressed look.

"Do you have a fucking better idea, hm?" you say, stepping towards Joel, hands curling into fists, your lack of sleep catching up to your temper, "Because all I've heard out of your mouth so far has been criticism, and it's starting to seriously piss me off."

"I ain't afraid of you," he counters as he crosses his arms, looking unbothered, and your jaw tightens as you take another step towards him.

At that exact moment there's a sound, and a pair of headlights illuminate the alley; then, the sound of a motor switching off and a car door slamming shut drift through the air. A few moments later there's a hurried knock on the back door. You give Joel another furious glare before stalking over to the door and opening it in one fell swoop. Sam is standing on the doorstep, peering down at a sheet of paper you assume is the inventory list, end of a cigarette between his lips.

"Sorry I'm late, couldn't find my fucking lighter," he mutters, before pulling the cigarette from his lips and dropping it on the floor, "You do know you've got one barrel out–"

His voice stalls in his throat as his eyes fall on you, the smoke of his last drag disappearing in the air around him. "Speedy? What are you doing here?"

You give him a dry smile. "Working."

"You never work the morning shift, you'd hit someone over the head with a coffeepot," he retorts matter-of-factly, before he narrows his eyes at you, "You up to something?"

"No," you deny, slightly offended, but when Sam gives you an expectant look, you shrug your shoulders as he steps inside, door closing behind him, "How come I always have to be up to something?"

"I've known you for over a decade, speedy, I know when you're up to something."

"As delightful as this conversation is, can we get on with it?" comes Joel's voice from behind you, and you resist an urge to suck a sharp breath between your teeth.

You wouldn't say Sam is a jealous man, but he isn’t exactly amenable to strangers.

Sam is silent for a second as his eyes move between Joel, Tess, and yourself, the playfulness in his eyes gone. "Who's this?"

His voice is tense, like an elastic that's been pulled taut, and you swallow slightly.

"Doesn't matter," you dismiss, shaking your head, "Look, Sam, I need your help."

Sam's eyes move between you and the two people standing behind you, expression unsure.

"Yeah?" he asks, raising a single eyebrow as he observes the scene, "With what?"

"The blue barrel in the alley outside. . . I need you to write it off the inventory," you tell him, and you watch Sam's eyes move from Joel and Tess to you, jaw falling open slightly. Then, he closes his mouth, eyes becoming stormy as his jaw twitches in anger.

"Are you serious right now, speedy?" he asks you, and you resist the urge to correct him on the nickname in front of Joel and Tess, and you watch as Sam runs his tongue over his top teeth in frustration, "Can I talk to you? Privately?"

"Sam–" you say, but he doesn't give you time to react as he takes a hold of your forearm and all but drags you through the door of the backroom to the front of the shop and out of earshot. Tess and Joel exchange a look at the action, both wordlessly taking a step a little closer to the doorway.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Sam tells you as he rounds on you, eyes narrowed into an expression that makes it clear he isn't happy, "Tell me you're joking, right now."

"Sam, please," you ask, and your voice is surprisingly vulnerable, "Listen, you know how I told you I stole from the wrong people. . . ? Look, all I need to do is this, and then we're even, but I need your help."

"You've got some goddamn nerve, asking me this. . . you're putting me in a fucking impossible position, speedy," Sam hisses at you, eyes bulging slightly, "What if someone notices, hm? Then it's my head on the chopping block."

"They won't notice. . . they can't notice something they never knew they even had," you assure him, putting a hand on his forearm, "Please, Samuel."

After a second of brooding silence, Joel hears Sam sigh.

"What do you even need a barrel of fertilizer for?" he asks, and you let out a breath, giving him an almost guilty look.

"It's better if you don't ask questions," you tell him, your voice slightly uneasy, "Just–. . . please?"

Another beat of silence.

"What's your big fucking plan, then?" he asks, "Even if you had a car, how are you going to move this massive barrel across the QZ without at least 50 guards on your ass?"

"The abandoned church on Salem," you say carefully, knowing he isn't going to take it well.

"That's been boarded off for a very good reason, and you know it," Sam says immediately, shaking his head, "There is no way in hell."

"Come on, Sam," you plead, "I know FEDRA cleared it out forever ago and just keeps those signs up to avoid people sleeping in it."

"How the fuck would you know that, hm?" he snaps at you, before Joel hears him sigh again, "Nevermind, don't answer that, I don't even want to know."

"It's on your delivery route, all you have to do is drop us off with the barrel so I can keep it there all day and move it as soon as it gets dark."

"That all?" he asks you sardonically, and for some reason, Joel finds himself getting irritated at this kid's tone with you. It wouldn't kill him to be a little nicer about things.

Eventually, Sam speaks again.

"Fine," he says, "But I'm not taking your little criminal friends in the truck with me, that's out of the question."

"How the hell am I going to move it, then?" you ask, and you sound put out.

"You can figure that out, since you're so clever," his voice is biting, filled with aggravation, and after a second, Joel hears you sigh.

"Yeah, okay. . . I'll figure it out. Thanks, Sam."

"Don't mention it," he says bitterly, before Joel and Tess hear his heavy boots walking back towards the backroom before he appears in the doorway again, eyes settling on both of them for a second. Then, he looks over his shoulder, looking back at you.

"Come on then," he tells you, his tone irritated, "You think I've got all day?"

Joel feels another stab of annoyance as he regards Sam, but he doesn't say anything, instead exchanging a glance with Tess.

"What's the plan?" Tess asks carefully, even though she's fully aware of it, and the soldier gives her a look.

"Go home," he tells her, rather bluntly, "She can handle it from here."

"I think we'll wait to hear that from her."

Joel doesn't know why he says anything; maybe it's the frustration at his tone, maybe it's the fact that he has stakes in this particular plan succeeding, but he gives the soldier a raised eyebrow as he receives a glare.

"It's okay," you say hastily as you watch Sam open his mouth to deliver what you're sure is a scathing rebuke, and you give Joel a look that clearly means 'drop it', "I'll meet you there."

Joel shakes his head. "And then what? You gonna move that thing by yourself? Not to diminish your abilities, but there's no way in hell you're moving 300 pounds of fertilizer in your lonesome."

"Who said anything about her doing it alone?" Sam interjects, and now Joel raises a single eyebrow.

"You did," he returns bluntly, not giving a damn if he knows he's been listening to their conversation, and Sam squares his shoulders, "Just now, actually."

"Not just a criminal, but an eavesdropper, too?" Sam says sardonically, before turning to you with a frozen, sarcastic smile, "This is the company you're keeping, lately, hm? Real nice."

Joel is about to open his mouth again to tell this little punk exactly what an eavesdropping criminal will do if he keeps speaking to you the way he is, but you beat him to the punch.

"That's enough, Samuel, we don't have time for this shit," you tell him, your voice firm, "I don't need to remind you about keeping bad company, do I?"

Your tone is biting, and clearly it works, because the soldier clamps his mouth shut with a furious glare as you turn back to Joel and Tess.

"I'll be fine," you say with a nod, mostly talking to Joel so he doesn't start anything when there isn't any time for it, "I'll meet you there. . . promise I won't run off with your shit again."

You say that last part with a small smile, which neither Joel nor Tess return, but eventually Tess gives a short nod.

"Tough crowd," you mutter to yourself, before you feel Sam's fingers close over your forearm, which makes you wince slightly, "Ouch, Samuel."

"Come on, then," he says in an irritated tone, ignoring your yelp of pain as he pulls you forward towards the door, "But if we get caught, I'm ratting you out."

Joel and Tess follow you out, and as Sam angrily stomps over to the truck, lifting the tarp from the back, you pull a set of keys out of your pocket and use them to lock the back door.

"You guys go already, you'll need the head start. . .if you cut through the abandoned post office on 5th, you'll get there in 10 minutes, tops," you say as the lock clicks, before grabbing the edges of the barrel.

Tess nods. "Meet you there?"

You give an agreeing hum and a nod, before there's a banging noise as Sam gives the back of the truck a whack.

"Let's fucking go, speedy," he lets out in an exasperated breath as he starts to walk back towards you.

"Sure you got it from here?" Joel huffs out as his eyes move between you and Sam quickly, and you give a small nod, shooting him a furtive smile.

"Yeah, thanks," you say, and you sound genuinely grateful, which catches Joel slightly off guard. He looks at Tess, nodding once, before they step away from you and start to jog down the alley, making sure to glare at Sam in passing.

"Not sure I liked the way that kid grabbed her," Joel lets out gruffly as they round the corner, and Tess gives him an unimpressed look.

"Barely 20 hours ago I had to pull you off of her when you grabbed her in the exact same way."

"That was different," Joel grumbles, and Tess' eyebrow raises.

"How, exactly?" she asks him, but Joel ignores her and gestures for her to move on.

Back in the alleyway, Sam lets out a grunt as the two of you lug the barrel into the back of the truck.

"Unbelievable," he mutters to himself, shaking his head, "You're going to get me killed one day, you know that?"

"Let's hope later rather than sooner, hm?" you answer as the barrel drops into the truck bed with a decisive thump.

Sam lets out a grudging hum, before gesturing towards the back.

There's a moment of silence as you exchange a look, before you make a face.

"You can't be serious," you tell him, and his eyebrows raise.

"No way you're riding in the front, speedy," he tells you, and this time he doesn't sound angry, "I'm sorry, but there's no way I can explain you to anyone if we get stopped. . . besides, wouldn't you rather stay anonymous?"

You give him an annoyed look, before you clench your jaw and grudgingly get in the back of the truck, sitting down next to the barrel on one of the makeshift wooden benches nailed to the side.

"Thank you," Sam says in a breath, before giving you a furtive smile, "See you in 5 minutes."

Then, he unties the tarp at the top of the truck so it falls to cover the contents of the back, you included.

The ride is semi-smooth, except for a moment where Sam gets stopped at a checkpoint because his 'buddy', Carter, wants to know if he has any cigarettes to share. It gives you half a heart attack when you feel him bang his rifle on the metal side of the truck in a joking greeting.

"Sam-my," he says, his voice low and arrogant, "Late on the early shift again, hm?"

"I overslept," Sam says, and you can tell from his dry tone he isn't totally enamored with Carter.

"I would say it happens to the best of us, but. . . we're all here, Sammy."

His smug laugh floats through the morning air, and it makes you roll your eyes.

Jesus Christ, this guy.

As you suspect, Carter just wants a cigarette. But as he leans through the window, you hear him clear as day as he speaks to Sam. "You got anything extra today? For my pain, you know."

There's a grunt from Samuel as you listen to him rummaging around, before Carter lets out a contented hum and clears his throat, stepping away from the truck. "Alright, come on, let him through."

The truck rumbles down the street as you leave the checkpoint behind, and barely a few minutes and a corner later, it stops and the motor switches off. You hear Sam's footsteps as he jumps from the driver side and walks around to the back of the truck, before lifting the tarp.

"Out you come," he says, and you clamber out as inconspicuous as possible, which you're not going to lie, is hard.

Finally your feet hit the ground in front of him.

"You know," you say as you stand up straight to face Sam, your face barely a few inches from his, "I wouldn't let Carter walk all over you like that."

"I can't remember asking for your opinion," he tells you with a sarcastic smile, and you raise your eyebrows slightly, making a face.

"You could take him."

"I don't want to, speedy," Samuel says with a scoff, shaking his head as he lowers the latch of the truck, "I'm not interested in making enemies like you are."

"I don't make enemies," you defend slightly, and even though Sam doesn't look at you, you can tell on his face he doesn't believe you.

"We've been here barely two months and you already owe the wrong people too much money."

"Who said it was money?" you ask again, and when Sam doesn't answer you, you let out a breath through your nose, pursing your lips.

"Is that why you didn't want Joel and Tess in here? Didn't want them to know you bribe your buddy Carter for some extra minutes of sleep? He just a smoker. . . ? Or does he use something stronger?"

"Oh, bite me," Sam tells you with a narrowing of his eyes, and you give him a half-smirk as you stare him challengingly in the face.

"Anywhere you like, Sammy," you tell him teasingly, and he lets out a scoff, shaking his head as the corner of his lips pull upwards.

At that moment, you hear footsteps at the end of the relatively small street, and you turn your head to watch Tess and Joel approaching.

"We all got there in the end!" you say brightly, and you're met with Joel's scowl as he scoffs.

"Speak for yourself, sweetheart, you came in a truck."

You watch as Sam's brow crinkles just slightly at the sound of the nickname Joel uses, but you move on as quickly as you can.

"A man your age, should be keeping fit," you say in a robust, mocking voice, before making a face at him that drips with false concern, "Wouldn't want to risk you dropping dead from a heart attack at the ripe old age of sixty-five, grandpa."

"Means a lot coming from someone who's been alive less than two decades," he snaps back, "Tell me, do you remember what a rotary phone is?"

"I know perfectly well what it is," you reply swiftly, and Joel makes a momentary face like he's considering it.

"How's the day going to work?" Tess interjects suddenly, gaze resting on the expression on Sam's face, whose eyes keep flitting between you and Joel.

You heave a sigh. "I'm going to have to go back to work, but I'll get here as soon as I get off at 3pm."

Tess nods. "Works for me, I got a 4:30pm job to get to. It should finish before curfew at ten."

"I'll stay in the area to make sure nothing goes wrong, then," you say with a short nod, before eyeing them both, "And then your friend and his dudes can do the rest."

"Dudes," Joel repeats, his voice slight with disdain.

"Men, goons, brutes. . . whatever," you say with a wave of your hand.

"You're in luck, my final shift of the afternoon is somewhere around here," Sam says sarcastically, before shooting you a look, "Although not very sure about the coincidences of that."

"M'staying," Joel grunts, exchanging a look with Tess, "Don’t have much going on today, anyway.”

You bite back a snippy comment about how he has no life, concluding that you all don’t really have that much of a life in a post-apocalyptic hellscape.

“I need to go back to the shop,” you say, giving a half-apologetic look, “I can’t miss this shift, and if my boss finds out I skipped after begging her for it in the first place she’ll fire me faster than I can even apologise.”

“Go,” Tess says with a nod, and you give a half-hearted smile before you walk away, Samuel in tow. Joel watches as you exchange a few words, not missing the way Sam’s hand brushes over the side of yours as you talk. Tess also seems to notice, brows raising slightly as she observes your interaction, but she says nothing.

She looks away instead, wondering what the fuck she’s going to do to kill 8 hours with the man-turned-brick-wall that was Joel Miller.

True to your word, you're back at three in the afternoon. The sun is still high in the air, which is thick with humidity. Boston didn't get many hot days, but when it did, they were also horribly humid. Joel and Tess are standing right where you left them, or rather a combination of standing and sitting. They look bored.

You hold up a paper bag as you approach.

“Anybody want a snack?” you ask semi-flippantly, and Joel shoots you a glare from his position leaning against the brick wall, beams of sun illuminating his feet as the rest of him stands in the scarce shade. When you receive no answer from neither him nor Tess, you give a dry smile.

“Not all at once.”

“This isn’t a picnic,” Joel snaps, and you give him a look.

“Who pissed in your oatmeal this morning, grandpa?” you ask him, before your face turns jokingly serious, “Tell me, did you run out of raisins?”

The glare Joel delivers is furious, but you shrug your shoulders in mock innocence.

“Out there you can be as mouthy as you fuckin' want,” you imitate his voice, exaggerating his accent as much as you can as you throw his words from last night in his face, “This counts as out there, right?”

Joel can see in your face that you’re enjoying talking smack to him; your eyes have a twinkle to them he’s not sure whether he likes or loathes.

“I don’t sound like that,” he says finally, resolving not to give in to your digs, because he knows that’s exactly what you want. He watches with some satisfaction as you let a breath out through your nose, almost a huff, eyebrows moving up momentarily as you turn away from him and go to sit down against the wall. Tess is sitting on it, peeling an orange in silence.

The silence doesn’t last very long, though. Joel’s eyes land on your twitching fingers; you’re not someone who likes silence – it makes him wonder why.

“Where the fuck d’you get an orange?” you ask Tess, hand coming up to shield your eyes from the sun as you look up at her. She meets your gaze with a nonplussed look.

“Went to the market,” she returns sarcastically, “Selection’s great this time of year.”

Joel feels a distant urge to smile at her snark as you give her a dry smile.

It’s silent again, and for a second Joel rests his head against the wall and allows himself to close his eyes, the only sounds coming from the people in the street around him. It seems silly, but like this, Joel doesn’t have to see. Sure, the sounds of the QZ are quite a bit different from what cities used to sound like, but it’s still nice to close his eyes from time to time and pretend it’s the same.

His ears perk at a new sound, like something scraping against wood, and when he opens his eyes to investigate, they fall on you sitting against the wall. Your knees are pulled up, and Joel’s eyes have to look past your knees to see that you have that tiny blade clutched in one hand and a stick in the other, using your knee to sharpen it to a tip. You’re focused, eyes staring as the blade rolls over the wood, chips curling elegantly before falling into your lap.

“The silence was nice,” Joel comments, and you actually find yourself rolling your eyes, but you don’t look up at him.

“I didn’t say anything,” you tell him pointedly.

More silence. Joel’s eyes feel like they’re staring holes into your head.

“You one of those kids that can’t sit still?” he asks eventually, clearing his throat as he crosses his arms and peers down at you. Your mouth curves slightly but you still don’t look up at him, focusing on your stick.

“So what if I am?” you reply, your voice smooth but Joel discerns the slight defensive tone, “And I’m not a kid, Joel.”

There it is again. Joel hates how much hearing you say his name like that affects him. He looks away, directing his surly expression across the street. There’s a FEDRA checkpoint set up there, and he watches as Sam chats to another soldier. Occasionally, they stop someone, and search them, but it doesn’t get much more exciting than that.

You’re done sharpening your stick; you discard in the dust at your feet, before breathing a small sigh as you look across the road at the checkpoint.

"What's the story?" Tess asks you as she follows your line of sight to Sam, who is standing at the checkpoint actually laughing with one of his fellow soldiers.

"Hm?" you ask her, and she gives you a look as she nods in his direction.

"With your soldier."

"He isn't my soldier."

"He's something," Tess says matter-of-factly, and you let out a sigh.

Joel pretends he isn't listening as he leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as his eyes survey the square, but his ears are very tuned into the conversation. As much as he hates to admit it, he's just as curious about the nature of your relationship to Sam as Tess is.

"I've known Sam a long while. . . we met in FEDRA military school," you say finally, and Tess' expression barely changes as her gaze bores into yours, eyebrows moving up as they silently ask you to continue your story.

"Here in Boston?" she asks, and you shake your head.

"No, uh," you clear your throat, and Joel notices the way your fingers twitch nervously around the blade, "San Francisco. . . I was there before I came here a few months ago."

"Didn't they have a full-scale insurrection in San Francisco?" Joel speaks up, and you turn your head to look at him, nodding as your eyes fall back on your fingers, which twirl the knife around in your hands.

"Yeah, it was carnage," you say, swallowing, before your eyes move back up, resting on Sam again, "We barely got out of it alive."

"How'd you end up there in the first place?" Tess asks, and you give her a cautious look.

"How come you're suddenly interested in my life story?" you ask her, your tone almost defensive, and she raises her eyebrows as she crosses her arms over her chest.

"If this goes right, I have a nasty little feeling we're going to be seeing a lot more of each other, and I don't like going into my partnerships blind," she tells you, and you nod with a small scoff, "And I guess we've got time to kill."

"I guess we do," you say sarcastically, and Joel watches as you click the blade into the handle, before putting it in your pocket.

"Outbreak day was the day before my 10th birthday," you explain, swallowing, hands clasping together in your lap, "My parents owned a convenience store in Fresno."

"California?" Tess interjects, frowning, "The hell d'you come all the way out here for?"

"It wasn't my choice," you tell her, sighing as you clear your throat, and Joel watches from his peripheral as you start to pick the skin around your nails.

You’re nervous.

"By some miracle, we lived through outbreak day. . . then, for a while, we were in the San Francisco QZ, but that didn't end well."

"We heard that all the way over here."

You nod, swallowing. "Fireflies. . . just like you have here, I guess, only more willing to risk collateral damage for the cause."

When neither Joel nor Tess speak, you clear your throat again. "San Francisco QZ wasn't always bad. . . it started out relatively okay, but more people just kept coming, and for some reason they handled it badly. I mean the center of the city was heavily fortified, and probably the safest you'd find on the west coast. . . but you had to get in there, first. Most people lived on the outskirts, and into the surrounding Bay Area. . . FEDRA still had some control. There was a fence for infected all the way across the Bay bridge, but it became the number 1 breeding ground for crime and squalor. . . and resistance. People were starving, poor, and angry, and looking for someone to blame."

"Recipe for disaster," Tess mutters, and you nod, swallowing hard.

"They ignored the Fireflies for a long time, they just let them do their thing, it was all mostly non-violent. I guess we got lucky, because they allowed my dad to run this little store right on the outskirts of the inner city. . . he used to let the Fireflies use the storefront to move goods easily in and out of the zone and the suburbs without treading on FEDRA's toes."

"Your dad was a firefly?" Tess interjects, one of eyebrows raised, but you can't decipher whether she looks impressed by or dismissive of the fact.

"No," you say, pointedly, "He believed in the cause, definitely. . . but he had us. . . he couldn't commit to it like others."

"Touching," Joel mutters, and your eyes deliver a stinging glare as you regard him, before taking another breath and looking away.

"The first time the Fireflies took a more radicalized approach to their resistance, I remember I was in the store. . . I would help my dad, and the FEDRA facility two blocks down got blown up by a car bomb from the street. . . 14 soldiers died, all teenagers that were training at the academy they had there."

"Jesus," Joel lets out a sour breath, shaking his head as he looks away again for a second, eyes on the abandoned church.

"I remember my dad arguing with some guys on our doorstep that night. . . the SF Fireflies had had a change of leadership," you explain, and Joel notices the way you wring your hands nervously as you tell them, his own arms crossed as he regards you. "He refused to help them any longer and they weren't pleased. . .they tried to threaten him but he wouldn't give in. I guess someone overheard the conversation in the street because when I got back from school the next day, he'd been arrested–" your voice stalls in your throat for a second and Joel watches as you swallow, hard, before you continue, "They hung him in the square, for everyone to see. . . I didn't find out until I walked past him on my way home from school."

The silence that follows is heavy, and as you look down at your fiddling hands in your lap, Joel and Tess exchange a shocked look.

"I'm sorry," Tess offers after a second, and you nod. Even though you aren't looking at them, Joel watches as you swallow hard, your eyes blinking furiously, before you take a deep breath and look back up.

"Yeah, well–" you clear your throat again, offering a bitter half-smile, "I guess everyone's got a shitty story."

"What happened after that?" Joel asks, and you shrug.

"My mom enrolled me in the FEDRA academy a few months after that. . . I would spend weekends at home to see them, but most of the time, I was there. . . it's where I met Sam."

"Them?" Tess asks, and her tone is surprisingly gentle, and she watches as you swallow hard.

"Yeah, I had a little sister," you explain, nodding, "My mom was pregnant when the outbreak happened, and Grace was born a couple of months after outbreak day. . . she was 6 years old when my dad died."

"Are they here? In Boston?" Tess asks, and the minute you look at her, and she sees the pain in your eyes as you shake your head, she wishes she'd never asked.

"No, uh–. . . Gracie died of typhoid fever the next year, and my mom hung herself a few months after that– a couple of days after I turned sixteen."

Another silence follows as your purse your lips awkwardly, your eyes swimming with grief as your fingers pick at each other. Joel feels a familiar tightness in his chest; he wasn’t necessarily surprised you’d been through what could only be described as a pile of shit, but hearing it still stirred uneasy feelings for him as he thinks about his own loss.

If Sarah had been alive, she would’ve undoubtedly told him to be nicer to you.

Finally, Tess breaks the silence again.

"Why'd you come out here?" Tess asks, and you shrug. Joel watches as you blink furiously a couple of times, but when you clear your throat and look back up at them, he can still see the tears lingering in the corners of your eyes.

"Furthest away I could get," you admit, taking another breath, "The group of fireflies who took over San Francisco, they were out for blood. . . they hung as many FEDRA soldiers as they could get their hands on, young and old, and they didn't care who you were."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Tess breathes, and you nod.

"I hadn't worked for FEDRA for a while by that point, but–" you voice quiets in your throat as you press your lips together, "Let's just say I wasn't very popular."

"How'd you two get out of here?" Tess asks, and your eyes fall on Sam again.

"We managed to drive a truck up to Seattle, but they were having their own problems. . . we got separated in the mess of it all. . . Samuel managed to get out in a fleeing FEDRA convoy, and they relocated here. . . I walked."

"You what?" Joel lets out before he can stop himself, making no effort to hide the shock in his voice, "You walked? You walked from Seattle to Boston?"

You shrug as you look between him and Tess. "Where the fuck was I gonna go otherwise? We'd agreed on Boston months before that. . . we'd heard it was better here."

Joel lets out a scoff, shaking his head. "That makes no fucking sense. . . How are you even alive?"

You shrug. "How is anyone alive? We're in the fucking apocalypse, dude. . . I guess my spite got me far."

"That's a lot of fucking spite to go on," Tess says, raising a single eyebrow disbelievingly, "How long did it take you?"

"To Boston? About two months, give or take," you tell her, and Joel lets out another scoff, shaking his head as his gaze rolls over the crowd again, but you ignore him, "Got lucky and found a bike somewhere on the border with Canada. . . cut the time in half."

An impressed expression crosses into Tess' eyes, and when you look to your side, Joel is frowning at you again, and you can tell from his eyes that he can't decide whether or not to believe your outrageous story.

"Look, believe whatever the fuck you want, but that's the honest to god truth," you say with a sigh, before getting to your feet as your eyes go from Sam back to Joel and Tess as you wipe your hands on your jeans uneasily,, “Do you need me here? Cause frankly I smell like shit and I need a shower.”

Even to you, it sounds like a clear lie.

Tess disguises her surprise well, but Joel can read her face because it mirrors his feelings. The unease in your face and voice at talking about your past is intriguing, and Joel can’t shake the feeling that hadn’t been the whole story.

“As long as you’re back for the actual pick up,” she says, and you nod your head, “Cause I gotta go at 16:30, and if I leave Joel to it, the dude’s going to end up with two less teeth than he started rather than with a barrel of fertilizer.”

You try to bite back the small smile that grows on your lips, but you don’t hide it well as Joel scowls at Tess.

“Don’t deal in anger management meds, huh?” you ask, an ounce of your earlier cheekiness returning as you look at Tess, who snorts.

“My life would be easier,” she comments, and you actually chuckle as you step away.

“You two are real fuckin’ funny,” he says, his voice a deep but sarcastic growl, and you give Joel a furtive glance over your shoulder.

“All in good fun,” you shoot back, “See you later.”

With that, you flounce off and down the street, fingers tapping nervously against your thigh as you start weaving through the people.

The minute you’re out of earshot, Tess heaves a breath. “Jesus fucking christ.”

Joel nods along with an agreeing hum, eyes meeting her stormy ones.

“She can’t be a whole lot older than–”

“27,” Joel says quietly, clearing his throat as he looks at his feet for a second, not wanting to meet Tess’ intense stare, “She’d be two years younger.”

The silence that follows is heavy, before Tess scoffs and shakes her head.

“At 27 I was fucking my way through Detroit city,” she says with a raise of her eyebrows, “Not fighting for my life.”

Joel makes a face. “Thanks for the information.”

“What?” Tess asks, raising a single eyebrow as she looks at him, “You’re not a prude, Joel, so don’t act like one.”

Joel’s eyes shoot her a warning look. Not an acceptable topic of conversation right now.

Tess says nothing more, only the remnants of a cocky smile on her lips as she heaves a sigh, before her eyes zero back in on Sam.

“What’s their deal?” she asks, practically squinting at him, “Are they together?”

Joel lets out a noncommittal grunt, shaking his head as he looks at Sam across the street. “No, I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so, or you don’t want so?” Tess asks him, and Joel can feel her eyes boring into the side of his face as he ignores her comment.

“He invited her in one night, she said no.”

Tess makes a face, sucking some air between her teeth. “Ouch.”

Joel nods and makes an agreeing hum, before he tears his eyes away from Sam and back to Tess with his usual, indecipherable stare. Her gaze is equally difficult to read as she stares right back at him, but says nothing before she looks away again with a breath.

Eventually, Tess leaves for her job. Joel stands in the same spot, occasionally stretching out or sitting on the little wall when his back starts to protest too loudly, eyes trained on the church and occasionally going back and forth to Sam. He knows the soldier is watching him, too, but Joel doesn’t mind, expression unchanged and as surly as ever.

You come back just after darkness has fallen, when the FEDRA checkpoint has had its last shift rotation and the people of the QZ have started retiring to their homes in time for curfew.

“Have you not moved?” you ask Joel as you approach him, and it takes almost all of his willpower not to jump in surprise. He doesn't know how you'd snuck up on him that way, and makes a mental note to keep an eye out for you doing it in the future.

Joel doesn’t answer you, just letting out a noncommittal grunt that makes you roll your eyes.

“You’re not really a man of many words, are you?” you ask him, sounding bemused, and Joel gives you a look.

“Trust me, I’ve got plenty of words for you,” he tells you, and your eyebrows raise as you put a mocking hand over your chest.

“Still angry with me for fixing your watch? And solving your supply problem?” you ask him, batting your eyelashes.

“I never asked for you to fix my watch, sweetheart,” he replies in an aggravated tone.

Your lips plump ever so slightly into a mocking pout. “You’re hurting my feelings here, Joel.”

Joel lets out a grunt. “Thank god I don’t give a damn about whose feelings I’m hurting.”

“Taking your role as bitter middle-aged criminal very seriously, I can see,” you say with a snort, and Joel shoots you a glare, but you aren’t looking at him anymore.

Your eyebrows knit together as you look at something, before your teasing expression falls away and it becomes guarded. “That your guy?”

Joel turns to watch Peter approaching them from the end of the dark street. His lips are twitched into that same smile that gave Joel the creeps the first time he met him. He gives Joel a nod, and behind him, two young-looking guys come out of the alley, too.

Joel is immediately on edge; the unnerving smile, the rifle one of the guys is wearing, coupled with the way all three men looked at you, sets him on high alert.

“Hello there, Joel.”

There’s a small crease in your brow at the tone of his voice as you come to stand level with Joel, who nods at the man. His whole body is tense as he stands as straight as he can, eyes never leaving Peter. He wonders whether you’ve noticed the change in the air yet, but he doesn’t want to stick around long enough for you to figure it out.

“We’ve got your fertilizer,” he grunts, nodding towards the church, and an impressed expression crosses Peter’s face. Then, he looks at one of the guys standing by his side, motioning with his head. The guy stalks off towards the abandoned church, as Peter looks back at you.

“I gotta say I’m impressed, shit’s been real hard to get my hands on. . . didn’t think you’d have it in you,” Peter muses, before his eyes move from Joel to you, “Maybe it has something to do with this lovely lady, hm?”

Joel doesn’t have to look at you to feel the shift in your demeanor as you stand next to him, and he watches your shoulders square from his peripheral and you give Peter a cold smile.

“You’re smooth,” you remark, your tone tinged with sarcasm, “What do you need all this fertilizer for?”

Peter’s smile becomes icy.

“Putting your nose where it doesn’t belong gets people killed around here, honey,” he says, Joel feels something stir in his stomach at the sound of the nickname and the implicit threat, “But if you’re done asking questions, you're welcome to come with us for a drink. . . promise we’ll show you a real nice time.”

Joel feels his fists balling up, and out of the corner of your eyes, you notice his shoulders tensing even more.

“I’ll pass,” you say, almost immediately, raising a single unimpressed eyebrow, “As. . . appealing as that sounds.”

Peter lets out a hum, shrugging his shoulders. “Your loss, honey.”

Joel still doesn’t love the look in his eyes as they linger on you, running down your figure.

At that moment, the man he’d sent to check on the merchandise comes back, giving a curt nod. “It’s all there.”

“Great,” Peter says through a breath, before he pulls out another wad of ration cards tied together by some string. He tosses them at Joel. “That’s the rest of it.”

Joel gives another silent nod, but he doesn’t check the ration cards, eyes instead trained steadfastly on Peter as he looks back at you, not wanting to take his eyes off this fucker for even a minute. Again, the twinkle in the guy’s eye gives Joel the creeps.

“You got a home I can walk you to?” Peter tries again, but as you open your mouth to reply, Joel loses his cool.

“She’s fine where she is,” he snaps, his voice steady but not any less threatening as he glares at Peter, who puts up his hands defensively.

“Didn’t mean to tread on anyone’s toes,” he says in a nonchalant voice, calculating gaze moving between you and Joel, “Ain’t she a little young for you?”

“That’s none of your business,” you snap at him, and you’re starting to sound more annoyed by the minute.

“Let’s go,” Joel lets out in a low voice, and to your surprise, you feel his hand close around your forearm. It’s surprisingly gentle as he pulls you back, before showing Peter his back.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Peter calls after both of you, but Joel pays him no heed as he pulls you down the street with a hasty walk.

“Dude,” you say when they’re out of earshot, shivering slightly as you pull your arm out of Joel's grip, “What is with that guy? He’s fucking creepy.”

Joel gives an agreeing hum, nodding as he peers over his shoulder. “He’s definitely got an unnerving gaze.”

“Understatement of the goddamn century,” you snort, before you frown as Joel follows you when you take a left in the alley towards your apartment. "What are you doing? You live the other way.”

Joel peers over his shoulder again. “Walking you home.”

You raise a single eyebrow. “I’m not helpless, Joel. . . I can walk myself home.”

“I never said you were, trust me,” Joel says with a snort, remembering the press of your blade against his stomach like it was just yesterday, “But something tells me Ted Bundy's starving twin back there doesn’t react very well to being told no, and I don’t need your sudden unexplained disappearance on my conscience.”

It takes a significant amount of your willpower not to say anything teasing, instead nodding. “Thanks.”

You walk mostly in silence, but when you arrive at your street, you see that somebody is leaning against the building, arms crossed and clearly waiting. It’s Sam.

“You’re a popular girl tonight,” Joel notes with a raise of his eyebrows as he slows down slightly, and you let out a small snort.

“It has to do with my irresistible charm,” you tell him jokingly, raising your arms, “Half-dead and struggling to make ends meet. . . it’s the new sex.”

You watch with some satisfaction as the corner’s of Joel’s mouth twitch slightly into what you can only assume would be a smile, before he stops completely, eyeing Sam.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he says, giving you a look you can’t decipher, “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

You give a small nod, suddenly feeling a little awkward as you’re overcome with an urge to bid him goodbye in some way, but you don’t know how. Instead, you keep your hands by your side, swinging them awkwardly as you look back at Sam.

“You know where to find me,” you say with a small chuckle, before heaving a breath, “Night, Joel.”

Joel says nothing, just nods once at you, before he turns on his heel and disappears down the street, darkness swallowing him up.

taglist:

apart from those of you who explicitly asked to be added, i also took the liberty of tagging some of you that showed interest in more parts (if you do not want to be tagged, please please let me know, in which case i apologize in advance for doing so!)

@tanushreeg27 @user1112223334449890171 @frecklefacelm @samarav @alyssiamarierenee @platinumblondeedition @huntersandpie @lizlil @lumpypoll @pedro-pascal-3nthusiast @phryne-fish @ponyboys-sunsets

as usual, replies, reblogs and likes are highly appreciated

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #the last of us

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tragicxensemble · 2 years

Text

»» ──────ஓ๑♥๑ஓ ────── ««

Shadowed Figures

Jennifer "JJ" Jareau x Insomniac! Female! Reader

Dark Themes

TW/CW: Nightmares/night terrors, insomnia, vivid imagery, scared reader, fluffy JJ

Disclaimer/Summary: Reoccurring nightmares were something you noticed happening to you when you become a troubled insomniac. Sleep is what you greatly feared and of course, Jj is here to help you fall asleep to where you can't see those monsters every Night. Even if they're real or not.

This image is kinda inspired by a nightmare that I recently had and couldn't go back to sleep because of it.

Ps: If you don't like imagines like this then you can skip reading it! This is kinda short but at least it's something. (NOT MY GIF).

Wc: 681

»» ──────ஓ๑♥๑ஓ ────── ««

Your body trembled as your heart began to beat out of your chest. Your breathing quickened as you focus your eyes to comprehend your surroundings. The bedroom was pitched black besides the moon seeping through the curtains. You sat up quickly as you felt your eyes fill with tears, trying your best to hold in your muffled cries. You failed to do so, which resulted in waking up your sleeping wife next to you.

She shifts in the bed trying to wake up when she felt you move away from her, but her senses were on high alert. "R/n? Hey, hey. What's wrong?" JJ questioned as she tried to bring you close to her, only for you to pull away screaming. "No! Please! Get away from me!" You wailed, whilst moving away from JJ. Saying that JJ was hurt was an understatement.

JJ moves to the side of the bed where you are and notices that you began to huddle in the corner of the room still crying. "Baby, can you hear me? What's the matter?" JJ slowly approached her in hopes of not setting her off again. She turned on the lamp on the side of your bed to have a good look at you.

You were still shivering and your face was all puffy from crying. The tears were still coming down but you had no control over it. “It’s - It’s okay. I’m right here.” Jen reaches her hand to pull you close and you finally accepted her offer.

Pulling you out of your trance, the embrace almost completely stops you from going back into that hypnotic state. “It's okay,” JJ muttered as she pulls you onto her lap while still holding you, “Shh. Shh. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere.”

Jen was able to calm you down, enough to the point where you felt as though your life wasn't in danger. “Now, you can tell me a little bit or a lot about the dream, but only when you're ready. Okay?” JJ kisses the top of your head while she caresses the small of your back.

“It happened so fast and I- I didn't see you there and it felt so real.” You whimpered. The sudden severity of the nightmare was enough to scare the older woman just as much as you were. “I thought I lost you.” You whined as you were close to crying again, just thinking about it. “Hey, I’m okay and you're okay. That's all that matters.”

JJ holds you for a while until your breathing calms, giving gentle kisses now and then. “Will you be able to go back to sleep again?” Jennifer asked as she pulled you up to the bed and made sure you were comfortable again. “I don't know. I don't want to anymore.” JJ nods. “I'm gonna go make you some tea and call Hotch.”

“No! Please.. Don't go.” You begged, pulling her arm back so she doesn't leave. “It's alright. I'll just be in the kitchen.” JJ insists. “No. Take me with you.” You pleaded. JJ nods and you follow her to the kitchen.

-----

“I’m sorry that you had to see that.” You say quietly. You were guilty for waking her up at the break of dawn when both of you hadn't already had enough sleep from the previous case. “No, honey. You never have to apologize for that. That was completely out of your control!” JJ whispers as wipes the tears from your face.

“Do you know how much I love you? I never want you to feel bad for waking me up okay? I know the nightmares are scary but I'm always gonna be by your side when you need me. Don't you ever forget that, understand?” I nodded and embraces her once more. “Now, lets get back to bed okay? Hotch will understand.”

You both head back to bed and cuddled while she held you. She sang quietly to you while rocking you back and forth, making sure you were completely okay. “I love you so much.” JJ hums. “I love you too.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #black!reader #jennifer jareau x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fluff #jennifer jareau fluff #Jennifer Jareau #AJ’S WORKS💪🏾🐷

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jasntodds · 2 years

Text

Hamartia [20]

Pairing: Dark!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Words: 8,515

Warnings: Fluff, angst, mentions of death, mentions of injuries, mentions of bruises, mentions of past drug use, mentions of blood, a nightmare

Summary: You and Peter are waiting for the other foot to drop

A/N: First of all, lemme just say I’ve had this planned since before NWH. I had this chapter planned before I even had a story so...😭 Also, the next chapter is the epilogue!! I hope you guys like it!! Please lemme know what y’all think!! Masterlist in bio!!

ch. 19 || ch. 20 || epilogue

series masterlist // masterlist

Peter and you are tucked into your bed, his arm is wrapped around you, hand resting on your hip while your head is on his chest. Everything has gone perfect up until right now when you start to stir in your sleep. A nightmare comes creeping from the shallows.

You stand at the top of the clock tower, the night sky darker than usual and Peter and Harry are in front of you almost taunting you. Your gauntlet is pointed at Harry while he taunts you, bragging that he's killed May and there's nothing you can do about it. Peter is begging for you to leave. This isn't your fight but you ignore him. Every single time you have this nightmare, you ignore Peter and shoot Harry. But every single time you fire the gauntlet, it's never Harry that gets killed.

Harry seems to vanish and Peter is the one in his spot. You have this nightmare and you kill Peter like clockwork, waking up in a cold sweat. The only difference this time is Peter is actually there with you and you stirring in your sleep, the racing of your heartbeat, wakes him up.

He shakes you lightly, getting an accidental punch to the eye. "Y/n?" Peter calls, shaking your shoulder, ignoring the pain in his eye. "Y/n." He shakes you harder, your eyes opening wide as you sit up quickly.

"Huh?" You say, looking at Peter and gasping for air, the dream flashing through your immediate memory.

"Are...you okay?" Peter asks, looking over at you with a hand coming to your cheek, the only light coming in from the window.

You shake your head, shaking Peter's hand away and rub your hands over your face. "Yeah, yeah." Your brows furrow before looking to Peter and offering him a fake smile. "I'm fine."

"You punched me in the face..." Peter says slowly, knowing that's not like you. In the time you've fallen asleep in the living room, you weren't really a restless sleeper.

"I-I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" You ask, looking over his face but not seeing anything in the dim light.

Peter shakes his head. "I'm fine. What about you?" The worry is etched into every line on his face, this time he's a bit more stern. He knows something is going on and he's not going to let this go out of control like last time.

"It was just a nightmare." You say, looking away from him.

Peter doesn't pause like he would have a month ago. Instead, he moves closer to you and pulls you against him, wrapping his arms around you until you’re facing him. You’re looking at him and there's that fear lingering in your eyes, the type he's seen and felt far too many times while spending nights alone. It's the kind where the skeletons take their turn to run into the light and make themselves known but, thanks to you, Peter knows what keeps them in the shadows.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" He asks, his doe-eyes looking at you with all the love the stars have to offer.

You think about saying no. The truth is that you don't want to talk about it but not talking about it is what got you and Peter into a mess every single other time. In order for this to work, you can't expect him to lay out all the dark and scary and you not do the same. Even if you don't want to. So, you adjust yourself to sit on Peter, facing him with your legs on either side of his, the metal of his leg cold on your bare skin.

"I go to kill Harry at the top of the clock tower but then he turns into you right after I fire the blaster so I kill you instead." You admit, your hands gripping Peter's sides, thumbs tapping his bare skin lightly while you watch your hands.

His brows are furrowed but his eyes remain gentle. "How, uh, how many times have you had that nightmare?" It wasn't anything in particular that made Peter think you’ve had it more than just once, but it's like he just knew based on his own experience.

"A lot." You whisper, keeping your eyes trained on your hands as if looking at him will make him disappear. "Every night after Harry died. Got less as time went on, still happens sometimes." You watch the up and down of Peter's abdomen as if you need to be reminded that he's still breathing.

Peter takes your face in his hands, softly forcing you to look at him. "Hey, it's okay." His eyes scan over yours as your eyes meet his. "You, uh, you know I understand."

"I know." You nod. "It's not like because of this or anything.” You wave a finger between you. "It's fine." You offer. "You're still here so it's okay." You give the softest and smallest smile.

Normally, you’d have the nightmare, wake up in a cold sweat, and sit in your bed for five minutes to regain your ground. You get up and go to the lab. And you sit there for hours because it's far better than dealing with the nightmare. It doesn't come in consecutive nights anymore so the way you’ve always seen it is that you can miss a night of sleep. But, tonight, Peter's made you feel a little better.

The adrenaline from the nightmare is wearing off and you’re starting to feel tired because it's Peter. He's here and he's alive and healthy. It was just a nightmare and something in you swears that it will always just be some nightmare.

"Are you sure?" He asks. "We can keep talking about it." Peter's hands move to your sides, sliding just under your shirt.

"I'm sure." You answer with a quick nod. "I know it's not real and you didn't run. I'm okay." You lean forward and kiss his forehead.

Peter smiles, taking the sound of your slowed heartbeat as further confirmation that you’re okay. "But, uh, okay. If you change your mind, please say something." He leans his forehead against yours. "I promised I wouldn't leave."

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head against his head. "I adore you, Peter Parker."

Peter kisses you softly before pulling away. "I adore you, too." He kisses your nose as you scrunch it, smiling the whole time. "Think, uh, think you can sleep again?"

You nod. "Yeah, I'm still pretty tired. Ya wore me out, Pete." You smirk, tapping his chest before sliding off him while his cheeks shoot pink, his voice caught in his throat making you laugh. "You can lay down, Pete."

He shakes his head, smile still splitting his face. "Yeah, yeah, okay." He laughs, laying down and leaving his arm out for you to get comfortable against him.

Your head goes to Peter's chest, listening to his steady heartbeat while Peter's hand is on the small of your back, lightly rubbing circles until you fall asleep. And now it's Peter's turn to be awake but not for any reason besides just being happy and thankful to be here.

He's looking down at you, now asleep and perfectly sound. And his heart swells because you’re this shining light for him. Even when your light goes a little dim, like a flashlight running on old batteries, you still shines the light to show him everything good.

The next morning comes around, a knock waking Peter up first, you waking up just after. His arm is still around you and your head is still resting on his chest. You look at each other, morning glow reverberating off of you with sleepy smiles. It was not a disaster. Nothing went wrong. Everything went so perfectly well and today it feels like it could be the first day of the rest of your lives.

"Hey." You grin up at him.

"Hey." Peter matches the look, his finger back to rubbing circles on your hip.

"Are you guys ever going to get up?" Harley groans on the other side of the door.

You roll your eyes, reaching over Peter for your phone seeing it's barely ten.

"It's always Harley." You groan, flopping back down.

"It'd be weird if were your dad." Peter quips, looking back down to you, noticing the grimace on your face. Peter lets out a chuckle. "Harley's gonna have a lot of questions."

"Harley always has a lot of questions." You roll your eyes once more.

"I can hear you!" Harley yells on the other side of the door.

"So, don't stand outside my door?" You yell back. "Ya creep." You sit up, stretching up and then forward, your back cracking with the movements.

"There's breakfast!" Harley calls before you and Peter hear footsteps fading away from the door.

You turn to Peter and start laughing, plopping back down and pulling the blanket up to your face. It's only just then that you realize not only did you have your first date with Peter but you also just slept with your best friend. You had sex with Peter Parker. There's not a single ounce of regret, you absolutely want to keep doing that but you just can't believe it really happened and it didn't turn into a disaster? A miracle, clearly.

"What?" Peter asks, looking down at you with a half-chuckle.

"We had sex." You pull the blanket away from your face.

Peter's cheeks are hot red as he nods. "Yeah...we, uh, we did." He has a goofy grin pulling at his lips.

"Wild." You mutter, eyes still wide like a deer. "We should do that again."

Peter lets out a breath and oh, boy does he want to do it again. And again. And again, just keep doing it. The dates and sex and sleeping together with innocence right after. You made that night so easy and peaceful for him. If Harley weren't waiting, he would definitely be trying to initiate something again.

Peter lets out a laugh. "Name the time and place." He quips, looking to the floor and realizing something fairly unfortunate. "Hey, Y/n?"

"Yes, Pete."

"I only have my suit in here." He looks back to you, almost a pout crossing his lips.

"HA!" You sit up and look to the floor, your clothes tossed about your floor. "Well, better you do the walk of shame and not me." You snicker.

"Hey!" Peter yells, jaw agape. "That's not funny." His voice is light but shocked.

He is not about to walk there either in his boxers or in the suit he wore last night. Everyone is gonna know you were in the same room but he doesn't want everyone knowing what all went down. Which is also dumb because really, who is actually going to think that besides Harley? You and Peter have slept several times in your room, alone, door closed, and no one has ever said a word. And you’re both grown adults in your twenties. But, here's Peter, overthinking it anyway.

"Kind of." You laugh lightly, pulling Peter out of his thoughts. "Hold on." You roll your eyes and kiss Peter's cheeks, getting up from the bed, wearing just an old t-shirt and underwear.

You dig around your closet, tossing a few articles of clothes behind you and onto the bed. Peter and Harley are about the same size and you stole a pair of Harley’s sweatpants when he decided to toss them into a load of laundry you were doing without asking. You also still have one of Peter’s hoodies that should still fit him. It won't look too weird if anyone sees him going from your room to his room.

"Here." You hand him his old hoodie and the sweatpants. "Hoodie's yours but the sweatpants are Harley’s. They should fit." You take the other pair of sweatpants in your hands and start putting them, nearly tripping while sliding one leg in.

"Thanks." Peter says, slipping the hoodie over his head before getting up and tossing the pants on over his boxers. "Well..." Peter says, extending his arms and plopping them back to his sides, the pants a little long.

"It's fine." You chuckle, slipping a hoodie over your head.

Peter watches you, noticing the bruise in the shape of his fingers on your hip. His cheeks drain of color as he rushes over to you to get a better look. In the heat of last night, Peter knows he got a little rough with the grabbing but you didn't say or indicate that it hurt in any way. He'd never left a bruise on someone before, or at least, to his recollection. There were a few one-night stands that left right after but he doesn't think he did. And now he's just standing there examining the skin as if you’re a fragile sand castle, waiting for the waves to crush you and take you away.

"Oh, huh.' You looks to where Peter's eyes are, holding up your hoodie with one hand. You look back to him, seeing the pained expression on his face. "Peter, it's fine." You assure him. "It doesn't even really hurt."

"A-are you sure? I didn't--"

You cut him off, grabbing his face and placing a deep kiss to his lips. "I promise, I like it." You beam, head held high making Peter let out a relieved laugh.

"You're not just saying that?"

"Nah, means it was good, right?"

Peter chuckles and nods. "Y-eah, yeah, no it was great."

"Well, good then. If you ever hurt me, I'll tell you. It's not a big deal, I swear." You pat his chest with both hands. "Now I'm starving."

You go to turn around but Peter grabs your wrist lightly, quickly turning you around and pulling you against him. He's quick to kiss you, softly and sweetly while you giggle against his mouth.

"What was that for?" You ask, pulling away slightly.

"I just really like you." He says with honesty, kissing your forehead before reaching down for your hand.

"I really like you, too." Your smile is soft and shy as you take Peter's hand in yours.

The two of you walk hand-in-hand to Peter's room where he can change, only parting way so you can deal with Harley first. And the walk to the kitchen doesn't even touch the smile on your face. Nothing could bring you down at this point. You know Harley is gonna have jokes but you do not care because you’re the one that's with Peter now. After all this time, things are falling into place. The missing puzzle piece has finally been found, hidden between dust and old furniture. It was just hiding in the dark the whole time.

Harley starts whistling as you come into view.

"Oh, shut up!" You groan but your smirk can't budge even with the roll of your eyes. "How do you even know anything happened?" You raise the question as you take a seat beside Harley.

Harley shrugs. "You two left really early." He chuckles. "You didn't say anything to anyone, swung off the roof, no one was home. It was kind of a ticking time bomb." Harley teases.

"I honestly think you pay a little too much attention, do you know that?"

Harley passes an untouched plate of food towards you. "Yeah, probably." He picks at his own food. "Well, whatever did or didn't happen, you look happy so I'm really happy for you guys." He sucks in a breath and puts his hand on your shoulder. "Can I be the best man?"

"You start off so sweet sometimes and then...you just keep talking." You say with an exasperated groan, shaking your head.

Harley starts laughing. "It's my best quality."

"Yeah, that's something to brag about." Sarcasm coats your words as you pick up the fork and pick at your food before looking at him, the smile faulting into something soft. "I don't know exactly what you said to Peter," You pause as Harley looks at you with his brows knitted together. "But thank you."

Normally you would be so pissed. Harley would be running away from you any other time because he would know that you were ready to murder him and dump his body into the ocean. You’ve always been very clear not to tell secrets or your business to other people and Harley did it anyway. But, Harley did it as your friend and he wasn't certain of your feelings. It was his own gut feeling and he risked you being endlessly mad at him for talking to Peter but something just said he should tell Peter how Harley thought you felt about him. And it worked. It would have panned out this way, you and Peter together. But, maybe it wouldn't have been so easy if Harley didn't get the ball rolling and for that, you owe him.

"What do you mean?" Harley quirks a brow.

"Something he said last night. I'd normally be mad but..." You curl your lips under your teeth before chewing the inside of your cheek. "I'm not. How'd you know though? That I was in love with him?"

Harley lets a breath out through his nose, relieved you aren't mad and wanting to kill Peter. Harley can't keep a secret. Harley could be bribed with a pretty please and he'd spill his guts. Peter, though, he's supposed to keep secrets.

"You never talk about anyone the way you talk about him." Harley lets a few seconds pass, you watching him. "I dunno. You talk about him the way Tony talks about Pepper. And...don't take this as an insult but I've never seen you fight for anyone or anything as hard as you do for Peter." Harley looks between you to see Peter walking in wearing his own Star Wars hoodie and plaid pajama pants. "Speaking of." Harley nods his head forward, you turning and seeing Peter with a lazy smile. "How was your night, Parker?"

Peter closes his eyes for a second, shaking his head. "Good." He says simply, sitting next to you.

"Fair, fair. Well, good for you guys. I call best man or maid of honor, I’m not picky." Harley grins, going back to his food and sliding another plate down for Peter.

Peter looks to you with questioning eyes but you shake your head and mouth 'don't ask'.

The three of you finish breakfast, Harley going off to get some paperwork done while you and Peter make your way to the medbay. You’re due for another treatment and this time, you’ve invited Peter to sit with you. Banner told you you should be back to normal in about two or three months based on how the blood work is coming already.

It's been less than a week but the extremis is already improving. It's working just as him and Peter hoped and thought it would, it's destroying the extremis. Somehow, things are all starting to work out. Nothing seems to be going wrong and Peter and you are a little bit on edge because of it.

You're walking on uncharted waters, covered in thin ice, just waiting for the ice to crack and drown you. Something always goes wrong, somehow, something always happens. But, you both try not to dwell on it. Instead, you keep each other company and over the next two months, you have at least one date every week. You've declared yourselves as officially dating and everyone is in a collective state of thinking it was about time. Peter was hired onto the Daily Bugle and while he thinks his boss is annoying and hates Spider-Man, he's at least making money and being able to save. And he does like the journalism side of everything. It really hasn't been that bad.

You were hired on to go back to coaching in the summer so you’ve already started reworking a routine for that year and called the assistant coach, Anna, back to help, promising you'll actually be there for every practice. A routine forms, and it's like Peter and you have been doing this for years. Dates, dinner, you binging him lunch on his lunch breaks. The only thing that has yet to come back to normal is Spider-Man.

You've talked about it but Peter isn't quite ready to start the hero thing up right now. He's always willing to step in if he needs to but he isn't ready to commit to it. And that's okay.

Now it's the very beginning of March and you’re wrapping up your final treatment while Peter is at work. It's a new energy, to be done with extremis and being poked and prodded every day. You could not be more excited and Peter told you he has a surprise for you when he gets home to celebrate you finally being cured. Life is so good.

"Congrats!" Harley yells, shooting one of the small hand-pull confetti canons at you, the loose tissue paper falling over you while you blink at him.

"Thank you." You try to hold a straight face to seem unamused but it doesn't last long.

"How's it feel?" He beams, sitting beside you.

"Like it's not actually happening." You say, relief in your voice as you look to the IV in your hand.

"What're you gonna do? Like you can....do anything now? You don't have to stay here anymore." Harley asks, knowing you like freedom but the extremis started to really prevent it.

You’ve always had a bit of wanderlust.

"Uh, I don't know." You laugh. "Maybe Alaska?" You offer with a cheeky expression.

"Alaska?! You hate the cold." Harley chortles.

"But it's far away from here. Maybe Australia? Also very far away from here and it's warm."

"Wooow." Harley gasps. "Hate us that much?" Harley fake pouts.

"As if I'd stay away more than a week. I only survived MIT cause I had you guys." You roll your eyes.

You want to travel, see every country, learn about different places and cultures by seeing everything with your own eyes. But, you’ve been here your whole life. The only thing you’ve ever known is the Stark tower and superheroes. It definitely has its perks of course, but it's your home. New York and being away longer than a month will make you homesick. So, you will always come back. Wanderlust or not.

"It's not so bad, moving away. It's kind of nice." Harley assures you.

"Yeah, but you had all of us. We were already like family.” You counter.

"You'll have Peter." Harley states with bright eyes and a cheeky grin.

"Yeah..." You look to your lap, a graceful smile on your face as your heart flutters at the thought of Peter following you anywhere. "I got Peter." You chew the inside of your cheek while you look at Harley before your phone starts vibrating in your pocket. "Hold on, it's Peter." You smile as you pick up your phone. "Hey, Pete."

"Y/n!" He yells on the other end, panic in his voice.

In an instant, the ice cracks. You’re blood runs cold as you plummet into the frozen and unforgiving waters. Panic sets in as you tread the paralyzing waters, internally pleading for this not to be happening right now. Not after everything. Not when things have been going so well. But Peter would never call you in a panic if something wasn't wrong and you knows that.

"Peter?" Your voice is hesitant, your body completely frozen in place.

"Come to the clock tower. Just you." Someone else says, Peter yelling in the background for you not to listen and just like that the line goes dead.

You hold the phone away from your face and here you go again. Another day. Another villain. This time, though, it’s Peter who’s been taken and despite him telling you not to come, you’re looking at the IV and you know not to do it, but you start yanking it from your hand anyway, Harley trying to stop you.

“I gotta go.” You say, words rushed and quiet when you free the IV, ignoring the blood dripping slightly from the puncture hole. You immediately start leaving the medbay, Harley is quick to follow you.

“What’s going on?” Harley asks, right on your heels.

“It’s Peter, I gotta go.” You say, feet picking up speed before you’re at a full-blown sprint to the nearest opening window or door.

Tears brim your eyes. You’ve been kidnapped twice now all before the age of twenty. Now it’s Peter that’s been taken and you know how absolutely terrifying it is to be helpless and alone. Knowing there should be help coming but not knowing if it’ll actually make it in time because the villains you both seem to have are ruthless and relentless. They will do anything to get exactly what they want no matter who it kills. And you cannot let Peter deal with this all over again.

“I’m coming with you.” Harley keeps up with you, not even thinking about what’s going on.

This was your last treatment, he doesn’t know what’s going on or what the phone call even was. He does know that anything involving Peter still clouds your judgment a little bit and he won’t let you get hurt because of it.

“Stay here.” You say as you reach the door, pressing the necklace and allowing the suit to cover your body.

“You’re not going alone.” Harley grabs your wrist just as you’re about to take off.

“MARTY will let you know if I’m trouble. Just stay here.” You try to yank your arm away, but Harley is stronger than you. “Let go! I gotta save Peter and so fucking help me Harley, if you’re the reason I’m too fucking late, I will never forgive you. Let me go and if you show up and he dies because you did, I will also never fucking forgive you. Stay here!” You pull your arm one last time, yanking it free, seeing the absolute pain and anxiety written across Harley’s face. “This is something I have to do.” You urge before turning to the door and flying away, leaving Harley behind.

“Shit.” Harley sighs, watching you and knowing the odds of this ending well are slim to none.

But there’s a reason you said ‘that if he dies because he came with’ so he only has to assume it’s because you were told to come alone. Also, a very bad sign of where this going to go. Peter is not the target. So, he calls Tony.

The flight to the clock tower is quick, not quick enough to you of course because on the way, your mind just races. You were so focused on Peter screaming in the background, begging you to stay at the tower, that you can’t even remember who the voice sounds like. To your memory, it doesn’t even sound familiar but it could have been Tony in that moment and you probably couldn’t have identified it. But you keep thinking it has to be someone you both know because Peter hasn’t been Spider-Man and with no Spider-Man, you also haven’t been doing the whole hero thing either. So, it has to be someone from the past who decided to pick back up again. The thing is that you don’t know who or why or what you’re up against. You just know one thing for sure, they mess with Peter, they mess with you and that just won’t do.

You fly up the very top of the tower where there’s an opening. As your feet hit the wooden planks, you see Peter tied up on the ground, hands behind his back and tape over his mouth and his captor standing right beside him. And with that sight, your heart sinks and fury starts to rave through your veins.

Cinder.

"What the fuck?" You scoff in disbelief. How couldn't you know the person you had been dating was a villain? Would kidnap Peter? How didn't you know? You missed it.

"Surprise." Cinder snarks. "Miss me?" Their face is flat though, not like the other villains you've dealt with where they have some type of sinister glee about them. Not Cinder.

You gather yourself. "Yeah, yeah yeah." You shake your head. "Not the reunion I was expecting."

"Who else?" Cinder stretches their arm out, the metal of the suit that matches yours gleaming in the ray of light leaking through the wooden boards on the walls.

It's your fault they have a suit.

You can feel the lump growing in your throat but now isn't the time to dwell on guilt. "Look, I don't know what this is about and as much as I'd love to catch up, let's not. Now, give me back my spider."

"No." Cinder says casually, the armor daunting you.

All those times Happy told you not keep important things on your laptop and you ignored him. Stupid.

"No?" You question, rolling your eyes. "What is your damage?" You groan, not wanting to make a sudden move.

You know you’re faster than Cinder. That's not the problem. You could easily make it to Peter by the time Cinder tries to fire the blaster. The problem is that you don't exactly know if Cinder has done anything to the blasters. That's the problem here. If they were able to tweak them and figure out your own coding, well this is just going to go very south very quickly. At that point, you will risk your own death and Peter's. You’ve been able to talk yourself out of many things, maybe you can talk some sense into Cinder. Cinder was never the villain type anyway. There's something more going on here.

Cinder scoffs, throwing their head back in disbelief. "I always said this was the problem with you. You blamed me for not listening but did you ever listen to anything I ever told you?"

You pause and think for a minute. "I could have listened more." You drop your head, just a little with your words.

Admitting you’re wrong is not you’re strong suit but you also know that if you start arguing that's not going to get anyone anywhere. Yes, you want to save yourself and Peter but you also don't want Cinder to do something stupid. Something they'll regret for the rest of their life. Like what you did.

"You both killed my sister, Y/n." Cinder says, tears brimming their eyes.

"W-what?" You look between Cinder and Peter as Peter shakes his eyes, tears forming at the rims, a black and blue bruise decorating his right eye.

"Yeah, some falling debris from a grenade fell on her and it killed her when she came to visit." Cinder explains, anger and devastation in their eyes.

"I would have remembered that, why didn't you tell me?" Your voice is quiet, shock takes over your entire system.

You were a terrible girlfriend to them but you never would have faulted Cinder for hating Peter at that point but....why date you then? If you killed their sister, too, why date you?

"It was before I met you." Cinder scoffs, sniffling back the tears. "I found out you were the person in the iron suit."

"So, you used me?" You ask and even though things have been over between you for almost a year now, it still hurts. You still loved them despite how terrible you were together. And all of that was just....a lie?

Cinder shakes their head. "It started like that." They start, paying no attention to Peter who's using all of his strength to try to pull the restraints apart.

Apparently, the blueprints for the suit weren't the only things Cinder stole from you. It would also be just how strong Peter is so they could fabricate restraints that would actually stand a chance for someone who can bench press a car.

"And I did start to love you and I couldn't go through with it." Cinder looks to the side, clearly frustrated. "I wanted to but I couldn't. And then that night," Cinder scoffs. "When you blew up on me, I knew it was over and nothing was ever going to change. Not with you or him. It didn't matter to either of you how many people get killed in the crosshairs of what you two do. You'll still do it."

"Cinder, I'm-I'm really sorry." You can see Peter fighting from the corner of your eye so you just try to keep the conversation going, knowing if there are two of you you’ll have better odds to grab Cinder before any of this goes south and instead of anyone else getting involved, you can get Cinder help instead. No one else has to know. "You could have talked to me about it."

"What? Like you would have changed?" Cinder snaps.

"Maybe." You shrug, voice staying level. "I don't know." You toss your arms out. "But I would have listened to you about it. I've lost people, too. I wouldn't just shove what happened under the rug."

"Oh, really? What'd you do the last time Peter killed someone's family?" Cinder strikes back.

You scoff, it's all circling the drain again and despite the very sensitive subject, you have to remain calm because this could end poorly if you don't but also, Cinder is the one hurt here. You might be upset with them but you don't want to potentially make Cinder feel worse.

"That was different. Norman killed MJ. Peter killed him by accident, I told you and.....Harry didn't fall far from the tree. He killed May. He threatened to kill my family next. He wasn't going to stop."

"And you think this is gonna stop? How many innocent people have to be hurt and killed because so-called heroes like the two of you don't pay attention?"

A valid argument. What is the point of being a hero or someone who helps a hero if more people get hurt or killed? Heroes are supposed to protect people. It gets messy. People get caught in the crossfire. It's not right, it's not fair, it happens and something has to change.

"Cinder, I'm sorry but no one meant for that to happen." You plead.

"Sorry doesn't bring her back, now does it?" Cinder asks and there are tears begging to pour down their cheeks. "How would you feel if it were Harley?"

You hang your head and it's then that something finally clicks. The reason you never wanted to be a hero. You killed Harry over a threat. You looked him in the eyes and shot him with a blaster. You had the time to think about it and you did it anyway and it's haunted you ever since.

Him killing May, did not justify that. Him making a threat, didn’t justify that. You were hurt and upset by every single thing that had happened leading up to that moment. Dying, Ned almost dying by Mysterio, Flashing being killed by Electro, you almost being killed by Doc Ock, Peter losing his leg, MJ being killed by Norman, and then Harry killing May. It was too much and while Peter's coping was not good, you feel yours was worse because you killed someone. So, you press the center symbol on your chest and the suit dissolves.

You surrender.

"I'd be devastated," You say quietly and Peter is watching, pausing only momentarily with the restraints, silently begging you to press the necklace and have the suit form over you again but you don't. "Uh, but, uh, I'll tell you that, um," You sniffle. "This isn't gonna make it better. I know that. It haunts me, Cinder. Every damn day, it haunts me." You say with a slight quiver in your voice while Peter struggles more and more to free himself, his spidey sense going hay-wire. "I don't know what I can do to make this better for you or....but I'm sorry." You pause. "I really do mean that."

"You should be. It was his fault, and you....you mean the most to him and you were there." Cinder's arm is shaking as they hold it up facing you and you put your hands out.

How do you kill someone without directly killing them? You go after the one they love.

"You really gonna kill me?" You ask, eyes narrowing in disbelief.

"I have to." Cinder's voice shakes. "I stole the blueprints from your laptop when you were out one night. I know these work."

"Cinder, come on." You beg. "A life for a life is not what you want on your conscious, I promise. Please." Tears fall from your cheeks as you take a last glance at Peter who's almost out of the restraints, begging some higher power the blasters have not been touched. "Please don't--"

"I'm sorry." Cinder says before firing the blaster directly at you, a gust of high-powered air comes from the blaster, sending you flying backward and out of the building. Peter breaks free just then and immediately dives through the open window, shooting a web back at Cinder to stick them to the wall without a thought.

Peter is diving fast right after you, his only thought is to reach you and save you from the same fate May and MJ experienced. The most important people in his life have been killed because of him and he is not going to let you be another casualty.

You’re one of the only people who never gave up on him. Showed him kindness when all he could show was hatred. You’ve kept him alive every single day he's wanted to be dead. And there is nothing in this world that he wouldn't do for you because of it and he will always be eternally grateful. So, he dives after you, not caring how he'll save you or himself, just that he give it his all. And after what feels like a full minute of free-falling, he catches you. He collides into you like a ton of bricks and immediately flips over to shoot a web, catching you both from hitting the fatal fall. He slowly lowers you both, your limp body in his arm.

He carefully sits on the ground, holding you in his lap and cupping your face with his hand. Tears brim his eyes as he knows the blasters are meant to be fatal to anyone not wearing any type of protection but no fire actually came out of it. He knew it was dumb of you to not have your suit on, something he doesn't quite understand why you would do it.

"Y/n?" Peter whimpers. "Y/n?" He asks, tears starting to flow down his cheeks. "Please wake up." He's quiet. He's so quiet that if you were conscious, you still wouldn't have been able to hear him. But in the quiet, despite the pounding heartbeat from his own chest, he can hear yours. You’re alive and he knows that's something.

You gasp, eyes shooting open. "Ow...." You groan, a grimace on your face as you heave for proper breaths.

"You're alive." He says with a shaking voice.

"Yeah..?" You asks, voice hoarse, your breathing slowly coming back to normal. Peter continues to cup your face as one of the tears falls onto you. "You saved me." You say quietly, feeling the burning behind your eyes. You always knew he'd save you.

"Yeah...I, I guess I did." He nods as you reach up weakly and pull him in for a hug and for the first time since regaining consciousness, you take a full breath. Peter pulls away slowly, but his grip is still tight on you. "Why....why would do you that?" He asks, heartbroken at the thought you let Cinder try to kill you on purpose.

"Blaster's faulty." You mumble. "Lacks the power to kill, changed the blueprints after Harry."

Peter pauses with just a thought: you knew the blasters weren't lethal?

"W-what?" Peter asks, brows furrowing as he scans over your face.

"They fire a wind gust, just enough to knock the wind out of someone and I guess, knock them out for a minute." You explain with honesty. Peter watches you like you’re a mix-matched jigsaw puzzle.

Peter stares at you for a second, thinking of that day months ago when you said you couldn't shoot him because you were afraid you'd kill him. "You said....you said you could kill me with the blaster."

You shake your head. "Override feature using MARTY. He'd override to make them fire actual fire making them lethal but only in dire life or death situations." You pauses. "And if we're triggering a grenade, that's an override as well."

Peter nods and everything you do, you do to protect him. Protect other people. If anyone knew you changed that feature, it might be easier to target you. And he has no idea what he did to deserve you but he'll thank who's ever up there every day for giving you to him. "I love you."

The corner of your mouth pulls up. You weren't ready before but now, given everything, you are. Peter dove out that window to save you with no guarantee you were alive and that he'd actually succeed. He could have missed, or fallen, and both of you could have died. That’s not why you love him but something about it makes it a lot easier to say.

"I love you, too, Pete." You say quietly.

Relief fills Peter at your words and this is you. A little messy and a little broken. But you both work like that. If you both weren't broken and messy, you wouldn't be you.

"What about Cinder?" You ask.

"I shot a web at them, they should be up in the tower still." Peter says. "I'll go make sure, you, uh, you okay?"

"Y/n? Are you there?" Harley asks, the earpiece always in your ear.

"Yep. You can come out from wherever you're hiding. They’re in the tower. Don't send them off though, we gotta get them help, instead. Okay?"

"Uh..." Harley says, looking to Tony who's flying right beside him.

"Have you lost your mind?" Tony asks.

"Just trust me, okay, you were not there. They get help. That's it." You say, Peter tilting his head, wondering why you won't do anything more.

"Fine, but you will be giving us an explanation." Tony agrees reluctantly just as they're flying above Peter and you, into the clock tower.

You raise a hand and cup Peter's face, thumb rubbing over the bruise. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah." Peter nods quickly. "It'll heal by tomorrow." He smirks, so proud to be able to say that with confidence.

"Ooohhh." You chuckle. "Cannot wait to tell my therapist about this one. She is gonna get a good kick." You start laughing which only makes Peter laugh with you and his only thought is how much he just loves you.

Cinder kidnaps him, tried to kill you, and blames you for her sister's death and you’re over here laughing and making a joke. You don't want Cinder arrested or anything, just help. You always said you cut Peter the most slack which you do but he's not the only one.

You'll cut people slack and give them more chances than they really deserve if you can at least see why they're doing the bad thing. If there's something you can do, something you get them to help, you will. Even if they try to kill you apparently.

Killing Harry changed you and that was rough, especially with dealing with Peter through that but you did and you came out the other end as someone with more empathy. And you’re swearing that you and Peter, if you do this hero thing, will be making changes to try to ensure this doesn't happen again, not to anyone.

"Why're you looking at me like that?" You ask.

"Let's get outta here." Peter presses his forehead to yours, matching that fateful night at the gala. "Come on." He shakes his head with a soft chuckle.

"We should probably wait for them." Your eyes widen to tease Peter a bit.

"We're taking Cinder to the other Avengers facility." Tony says in your earpieces as if he were prompted and all Peter can do is send you a smirk.

"Okay, Spider-Boy, let's go home."

You give Peter a sort of thin silver bracelet that allows the iron spider suit to coat his body just as your suit does. The two of you fly back to the tower, allowing Harley and Tony to take care of Cinder, knowing they will.

At the tower, you meet back up with Banner who absolutely lectures you about ripping out an IV while setting up another. He assures you that you leaving mid-way through shouldn't negatively impact the treatment plan since you came right back and this is still likely your last treatment.

Peter sits with you this time and instead of talking about the events of the night, Peter pulls out his phone and plays Project Almanac for you. He remembers when the movie came out and how much you loved it, it kind of became almost a comfort movie for you. So, he turns it on and the two of you watch it sitting side-by-side, your head on Peter's shoulder and Peter's free hand holding yours.

"I'm, uh," Peter starts, watching as the teens in the movie time travel to Lala Palooza. "I think I'm ready to be Spider-Man again."

Your head shoots up, looking at him with big eyes. "Really?"

Peter nods, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah," His brows furrow a little, looking at you. "After today, yeah, I think I'm ready."

He's thought about it for a little while now. It's been tugging at the back of his head, like maybe he's ready. He could put the suit on. He has better coping mechanisms, people around him who won't let him drown alone. Peter is back to who he used to be and maybe it's time to re-introduce Spider-Man, be the friendly neighborhood superhero again.

"I'm really proud of you, Pete." You kiss his cheek.

"Thanks." Peter kisses your forehead. "Um, maybe we can upgrade the suit, if you wanna help."

"Hell yeah, it's my favorite pastime." You beam and one of your favorite memories with Peter is when you spent all night in your lab the summer after your freshman year of college. You helped Peter all night coming up with new webshooter combinations, upgrades to KAREN, improving a few of the features with upgraded tech. It wasn't really anything special, but it always meant something to you.

"Do you think," You pause and shake your head. "So, for my suit, MARTY has the power to override the blasters, ya know, life or death situation kind of thing, think we could do that with some of your webshooter combinations? Like the grenades?" You ask slowly but quickly continue. "Ya know, I think after today if we didn't do anything about what Cinder said, we're bound to repeat it. There will always be people who get caught in the crossfire. I don't think there's anything that can prevent that as a whole but, we can try to prevent it from happening more often because the reality is that villains don't typically give a fuck.”

“Cinder isn't the villain here, but others, Doc Ock, the Lizard, Mysterio, Norman none of them gave a shit who they hurt in the long run. We all have to do what we can to stop them but...maybe we can have more override systems with our AIs, lower the power with stronger weapons so they aren't lethal, they can cause less damage. It's a big risk for us, sure, but I think that's why the override systems would be a good idea. If us, or someone we're trying to save, is in need of something stronger, the AI overrides it." You finish your rambling and wait for a response from Peter.

Peter stares at you with eyes consumed with love and awe. Peter isn't the only one who's come a long way through this. So, have you. You from a year ago, would have been fine with throwing Cinder to the bears. You kidnapped Peter, tried to kill them, to hell with them, right? But no, because you’ve watched, first-hand, what happens when people are left out in the trenches with their grief.

They claw at the muddy dirt, over and over and over, until they fall so hard, the ground collapses from under them. It sends them so far into their grief, they don't know what's up or what's down anymore. Grief, it changes people. You don't want that Cinder or for anyone, ever again. And Peter loves you that much more for it.

"Yeah, yeah." He nods slowly, his smile is filled with grace. "We can do that. It's a good idea." Peter agrees.

"Good." You smile softly, glancing down and back up to him. "And while we're at it, I can show you the thing I was working on for you."

"What is it?" Peter chuckles.

"An upgraded prosthetic." You answer quietly, Peter's brows furrowing. "You slipped a few times, I kind of assume it's because the tech is a bit outdated, hasn't been upgraded in a while so you slip cause ya know, sticky." Peter's head tilts are he watches you. "You also have a new emergency release so you can detach it if you're ever, say, stuck under a building. There's also a beacon, ya know, in case that happens so you can find it later."

"You didn't have to--"

"I know." You cut him off. "But I wanted to. Our suits get upgraded all the time, your prosthetic is still a big piece of tech. It needs upgrades sometimes."

Peter moves the prosthetic leg, swaying it under his seat a little while watching. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Your cheeks start to warm, looking back to Peter's phone playing the movie.

"Oh, uh, your surprise." Peter says quickly, pulling out a pamphlet from his pocket. He hands it to you. "Uh, Harley helped, of course." He chuckles sheepishly. "We leave in a week."

You take the pamphlet from him. It's a pamphlet for the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam. You haven't brought that up in years. It was something you said back in high school, that you thought it'd be really cool to go one day. Originally, the plan was to go with the group before college started but then, Flash died and every year after that, something else happened. You lost another person so it never happened and you never brought it up again but Peter remembered.

"You...you remembered?" Your face goes soft.

"I remember everything," Peter says quietly. "You really wanted to go, uh, thought maybe it was time. Fresh start kind of thing."

"Thank you." You can feel the tears of love and joy wanting to creep down your face. "It means a lot."

"I'm, uh, I'm glad you like it." Peter smiles, kissing your forehead once more.

"I love it." You beam, pulling him in for a deep kiss. "So, when we're done here, we're gonna go to the lab, get to work, and then I'm gonna start packing and planning. I'm so excited." Your words grow louder and quicker. "We're gonna have such a good time and there's so much to see and do. Can you believe it? We're gonna travel together and for something fun and not like school or hero shit. Just for fun." You bounce in your seat. "I love you, Peter Parker."

"I love you, too." Peter chuckles, pulling you close to him.

It's been messy and difficult. But, everything you both went through led you here. It doesn't have to be easy, it just has to be possible and for you both, it always was. Getting lost on the way was just a part of that, something that shouldn't have had to happen but it did. And you've been found again, a beaming warm light leading you to new things, skeletons shriveled away into their shadows. With you both, following each other anywhere, this feels like the start of the rest of your lives.

Tag list: @tomzfrog // @underoosmarvel // @spiderboytotherescue // @starponywars // @softholand // @lookalivefrosty // @rainbowsinthestorm // @keepingupwiththeparkers // @watsonparker // @t-hollandss // @whatareyouhidingpeter // @bibliophile-grasshopp // @pancakefancake // @lilleone // @lilbeatlebear // @eternal-fangirling // @parkersvibes // @slitherysneke // @wymbean // @grandmascottlang // @lionfart // @whatbuckywrote // @tothestarsandreams // @yourbiggestspiderfan // @originalpinkpowerranger // @unleashthebeees // @mrs-hollandstan // @butwhyduh // @peterspizzashirt // @commoncurtains // @escapetheshackles // @angelhaz11 // @kebonita // @dreamerofzaldrizes // @parkerspideyman // @lovely-luke // @saintlavrents // @deartomholland // @tommyhollandaisesauce // @saturn-aka-six // @mycocoapuffs // @cleopatera // @annacarolinafeelings // @shirukitsune // @spideylovin // @skelkitt // @sweetcxeature // @newbrokenscene-1998 // @eridanuswave // @michelleofthesea // @bansheeshavok // @silktoyourspidey // @txmhoelland

#peter parker #tom holland #dark!peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker series #peter parker fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #dark!peter parker x reader #tom!peter parker #tom!peter x reader #hamartia

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bakuhoes-dumbass · 3 years

Note

Imagine if the yanderes found y/n a year later sound sleep in her bedroom with the window open. How would they react?

Now, I assume this would be a year later after she would have escaped? I got you~ Also, I forgot you said with the window open and I'm too lazy to go back to change it, so some are a little different 😅

These are NOT cannon to the story line.

Warnings: Yandere Headcannons ahead. If you are uncomfortable with these types of things, DO NOT READ. Proceed with caution, as I do not feel bad if you choose to do so while being warned.

MINORS DNI

~~~

Tokoyami: Him finding you while you sleep is pretty dangerous. What do most people sleep in? The dark. Tokoyami sneaking through your window in the middle of the night to watch you sleep is one thing. But since it's pitch black in not only your room, but outside as well? He won't even fight Dark Shadow taking over, dragging you by your ankles and trapping you against his body.

Kirishima: He isn't the most stealthy of people, unfortunately for him. However, what he lacks in stealth, he makes up for in strength. Once he finds your house, he breaks down your front door. Unfortunately for YOU, you're a heavy sleeper. This gives Kirishima enough time to bust down almost every door to find your room. By the time you wake up, it's too late. Because in your doorway is a love-sick psychopath with a shark-tooth grin.

Hawks: He finds you almost immediately, with all his connections and such. But he's a little different than the rest. He doesn't break into your room, oh no. Intead, he perches himself on a branch of the tree that stands outside your bedroom window. Every night, he sits there and just watches you sleep. And every night, you swear you see golden eyes staring daggers into your soul. Watching. Waiting.

Tamaki: He was able to pick up your scent. He memorized it, reveled in it when you were in his cell. Now that he's out, he was determind to find you no matter the cost. And that he did. As soon as Tamaki found you and his eyes land on your sleeping form, his excitment and anxiety spikes. He never wanted to be away from you again. So he decides to slips himself under your bed, where he waits for his moment, quietly mumbling to himself about how his bunny will be so excited to see him again.

Overhaul: This man has absolutely no shame. As soon as he finds your house and asleep in bed, he will grab you and take you. No warning, no waiting. Waking up to the former inmate with the scary bird mask gagging and kidnapping you is nothing but nightmare fuel. And this is one nightmare you won't be waking up from.

Shoto: He is one determined son-of-a-bitch to find you. He does eventually and is more than happy to see your window open in the middle of the night. He makes his way through and his gaze softens when he sees your sleeping form. His hand softly grazes your cheek and down your neck, loving the feeling of you under his fingers. He will stay there all night gently caressing you and be gone before you wake up. This happens every night to the point where you start dreaming of the bi-colored haired man you swore you got away from.

Dabi: Very similar to Hawks. Once he finds you again, he sits there and watches you, waiting for the right moment to take you for himself. He notices the more he watches you, the more restless you are at night. He knows his presence is affecting you and he loves it. Once he sees the insomnia take place, that's when he knows to strike. Because nothing gets him going than the fear in your eyes when your blue-eyed nightmare comes true.

Katsuki: This man finds you the quickest. And, like Kirishima, isn't very subtle about it either. Katsuki bursts into your room, broken window and everything. That's when you wake up to a manic blonde hovering over you, holding you down. He goes on to tell you how you're an idiot for hiding from him, he was only trying to protect you! But it's okay now, he's got you and is never letting go.

Denki: As we all know, this man is, surprisingly, really great at stealth. He wikl pick the lock to your house and then to your room, moving as quietly as possible. His gaze turns love-struck when he sees you sleeping peacefully in your bed, immediately wanting nothing more than to steal you away just like that. Instead, he places a hand on your wrist and shocks you awake. Your anxiety hightens as you see the blonde mainiac grinning wildly at you, sending another shock wave to knock you back out.

Izuku: A pair of green eyes stare at your sleeping form from over the open window sil. He would hang there for awhile, making sure you're fully asleep before pulling himself up and slipping inside. He would be similar to Tamaki and hide somewhere in your room. Until he can filly take you for himself, you'll be feeling like you're being wayched 24/7 for awhile.

Shinso: This one is the least worried out of everyone. He knows he will find you and he knows he can get you back. So when he finds your house with your bedroom window open? A smirk creeps up onto his face. Once he gets inside, all he needs to do is coax you to sleep talk for him and he has you under his control once again. The terrifying part is? You think it's all a dream you'll wake up from. It's not. And you won't.

~~~

Read the story these Headcannons are for HERE

#these arent very good #as i kinda pushed myself to do this #but i wanted to put SOME content out #so im sorry if these suck 😭#abberation #hc #yandere mha #yandere my hero academia #bakuhoes dumbass #bakuhoes-dumbass

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midday0nightmares · 3 years

Photo

31 - a week later.

Previous chapter a rat.

m.list.

warnings: this series contains themes of yandere\mafia, blood, violence, mental health, drugs, non-con.

author note: this is pure fiction and it is not intended to romanticize any of the situations mentioned bellow.

3 days after.

“Jeno .. can I ask you something?”

“Sure” he replied,

jeno too has changed, he has become more caring towards you like he was stepping to fill jaemins place, while jaemin was occupied.

Jeno was more controlled, he didn’t show much, if you didn’t know what had happen you would have believed everything was fine.

“What’s gonna happen to me if..? You know” ,

you leave the questions unfinished, but jeno understands what you wanted to ask.

His mouth opens to speak but closes shut again, he takes a minute to think before he answers “I don’t know”.

His honesty although appreciated didn’t help at all.

“but, I will do my best to make sure you’er taking care of” he reach to hold your hand over the table, gently squeezing it to reassure you.

5 days after.

You saw less and less of jaemin.

The stress of it all was getting to you too, you were agitated.. you blamed it all on jeno.

“Why don’t you just confess?”,

your question was loaded with hostility.

He looked at you, a desperate look on his face, he told you over and over but still he tells you again,

”it’s complicated sera”.

You scoff, his answer seemed more like an excuse than a genuine answer. “what’s complicated? You did it, you are the one who should be facing life in prison not him” you pointed at jaemin’s closed door.

He exhales, his eyes close “you don’t know what you’er talking about”.

“You killed him!” You contain to argue but he gets up and leave, ending the conversation.

Tears of anger pooled in your eyes, this is another level of injustice.

6 days after.

You were quietly munching on your cereal, jeno sat across form you sipping on his bitter coffee.

The mood was tense, unstable.

The neglected tv flashed a breaking news strip that caught your attention, it was about the murder in a diplomatic’s son house, “turn the volume up” you ushered jeno.

“.. it has been determined that the leased apartment falls under diplomatic amenity and no further investigations could be carried”

You looked at jeno, “dose it mean that they’er closing the case?” You asked, carful not to get your hopes up, he remind quiet for a minute before he nods “ yup, I guess they are”.

You jumped out of your seat, squealing with happiness “yes! Yess thank god” you grabbed his arm to share the joy but he didn’t move.

He wasn’t happy, nor relieved.. he didn’t seems to feel any thing.

You top your small celebration, “what?” You asked.

“Nothing” he stood up ready to leave, “clean up when you’er done”.

he leaves you to your wild thoughts to run the worst case scenarios.

Today

The week slowly rolled over with much tension and uncertainty, jaemin has been called to the police station couple more times, you swear each time he comes back, he has aged years.

You wanted to be by his side but he didn’t even look at you when you tried to call him this morning, if he’s not out then he’s locking himself in his room. you tried knocking on his door, to get him to at least eat a proper meal but he didn’t answer. Each attempt has been met with either complete silence or a sharp temper, he would lash at you then quickly apologize.

This is not how you wanted your first semester to begin, you attended the first week of your online classes but you couldn’t really focus on what has been said, not with a disaster hanging above your head ready to drop at any minute.

And as much as you wanted to blame it all on jeno, you couldn’t anymore. The case is closed, but why is jaemin still being investigated? Could it be because of you? Did the police knew you were taken? Was it your fault?.. you tossed and turned in your bed, it felt cold and empty without him, you missed him so much. After a long string of pillow thoughts, slumber finally took mercy over you.

“y\n..”

An unfamiliar voice calls your name.

“y\n”

the whisper gets louder, your body tip over and fall off of an edge to an endless darkness.. you jerk out of the nightmare, drenched in sweat and gasping for air.

You clam yourself and push the heavy covers off of you, dragging your feet to the kitchen for some water, you don’t bother turning the lights on, you open the fridge door and take a bottle. The icy water clears the clouds in your mind only for the grim reality to take its place, jaemin might be taken away.. you dwell on the scary thought.

You turn your head to see the lights of jaemins room were on, your heart clinches, he’s still awake at this ungodly hour.

Opting not bother him, you head back to your lonely bed, but the dark figure in the balcony almost gave you a heart attack.

You recognize the man, it’s jaemin.. his tall figure was standing in the dark, the phone was pressed to his ear, his demeanor was agitated, shifting his weight form one foot to the other, you couldn’t hear anything but you can tell he wasn’t happy.

You turn to see if jeno was in his room, his lights were off and his shoes were by the door. you always had the impression that they were close, partners in crime. they did all their nasty work together, but why is it only jaemin who is in this mess right now?.

“You can’t be serious !”

Jaemin’s loud voice comes clear through the thick glass, his hand running through his hair seemingly wanting to rip it from the roots out of frustration. You can tell he was angry, desperate.. he keeps shouting but you can’t make out what he was saying. you step closer, as close as you can without being seen by him, you try to decipher his muffled voice,

“I am your son! Your only son”

you’er not sure if that’s what he said..

He speaks in a lower voice before he removes the phone from his ear, ending the call. He punches the wall next to him, he was beyond pissed.

You move to hide behind the curtain to avid angering him more, he opens the door and steps inside slamming the glass door behind him.

“I can see you” he deadpan says in the dark, since there’s no one other than you, he must be talking to you and you make the quick decision of coming out before he losses his temper.

“Im sorry, I had a nightmare and I got up to drink wa..” You try to explain yourself but he waves his hand with not much care “Yeah yeah” and you stop talking.. he walks to his room, the dull city lights illuminating his backside, his shoulders were slumped, his back hunched with heavy burden, the sight of him broken made your heart twist inside your ribcage.

“Jaemin” you call him without a plane, he stops and looks at you, “Are you okay?”, stupid question..

Although it’s dark, you can feel his eyes burning holes into your face.

“Do I look okay?” He retorts,

You answered him with a small “no”

he turns to walk to his room but you speak again, “I can help you if you tell me what wrong”, bold statement.

He stops again and heavy sighs, your heart thumbs in your chest as you wait for him to speak, but all you get was a scoff, “why don’t you just know your place huh?” he asks with much condecindence, although you know he didn’t mean it, his words still hurts.

“Just stay out of my way, you have done enough already” he adds more sharp words, twisting the planted knife in your heart.

“I just wanted to help you and be here for you” your voice breaks and you hate yourself for it, but you chock and the tears starts to gather in your eyes, he huffs and looks up to the ceiling, impatiently waiting for you to recompose yourself. But his cold nonchalant demeanor triggers more eruptions inside of you.

the words escapes your mouth before you have thought of them.. “all I wanted was to help you, but you keep me away form you! you don’t tell me anything, no one is telling me anything! I don’t know what is happing or if I will see you when wake up the next day” you rant through the sobs, your voice getting louder and louder, and when he was fed up with you he shuts you down with a loud scream “shut up”.

Jeno comes out of his room, bewildered and alert.. he stands in the background watching the fight evolves.

“You are not my girlfriend” he walks towards you, making you feel small and insignificant, “I don’t own you anything” his tall stature looms over your short one, that cuts deep.

you look at him, you stare into his eyes, challenging him to take what he said back but he doesn’t.

“Yeah?” Your voice barely comes out, “fine then I guess I have no reason to stay here anymore”. you turn and stomp to where your bed is to collect your few belongings, he follows behind, his steps shaking the ground beneath you.

“where the fuck do you think you’er doing?” He asks but you ignore him, more so you couldn’t speak due to the choking knot in your throat, but your lack or response angers him even more, he grabs your arm and turns you around with much force, that it almost dislocates your shoulder, you whimper at the pain but he doesn’t care, his grip tightening even more, his eyes glazed with a dark, sinister layer.

“Jaemin!” Jeno warns, but it does nothing as another screaming match breaks between you, with him asking you the same question, not really waiting for an answer, and you shouting whatever comes to your mind first, curses, accusation, anything to hurt him. you don’t know who started it first but hands were being thrown, jeno was trying to break you apart, but eventually, jaemin overpowered you and threw you over his shoulder like a rag doll, your kicking and screaming did nothing against him.

“Jaemin” jeno shouted at his friend who was in a trance, muttering the filthiest insults under his breath.

“Where are you going? Jaemin!” jeno tries to reason with him. at this point jaemin was like a robot, marching to his room, he kicks the door to his bedroom open, he slams you to his bed, knocking the wind out of you.

“Jaemin! Calm down” jeno was trying to stop whatever jaemin was doing, he kneels and opens his safe, jeno’s voice getting louder, you were paralyzed with fear everything is happing so fast for your brain to form a response.

Jeno was trying to pry jaemin’s hands out of the safe, “come on! don’t do something you’ll regret”, jeno was almost begging him to stop.

jaemin finally broke out of his trance and turned to jeno “get out!”,

but jeno stood in his place like a pillar, his presence seems to clam jaemin, he takes a deep breath and pushes his hair back “I know what im doing” he speaks calmly this time before he turns back to you, you swallow the thick knot “jaemin please..” pleadings to spare your life were timid but loud enough to be heard, your body crawls as far away from him before the wall stops you.

He kneels down and reaches again inside the safe, for a second the time has stoped, everything moved in slow motion.

He takes out a metal handcuffs out of the safe, the blood that was frozen in your vines moved again, you let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding.. jeno does the same “fuck..” he must have thought the same, he too believed jaemin was about to kill you.

Your limbs fell weak and cold due to the withdrawal of the adrenaline that filled your bloodstream, you feel sick, dizzy.

The bed dips under jaemin’s weight next to you, your head falls back into his soft pillows, aimless tears rolls down your temples, you give him your hands to cuff. you are worn out, you surrender.

He takes both of your arms and cuffs them to the headboard of his bed, your eyes meet, you don’t look away and neither does he. He looks down at you.. his eyes pours inside of your soul.

Dark circles beneath his eyes, dry lips, heavy eyelids but still, still handsome as ever. he leans down to kiss your watery eyes, “for my sanity sake” he whispers between the kisses.

He throws his covers over you, and turns the lights off before he leaves and close the door behind him.

#nct dream #nct 127 #nct yandere #nct mafia #nct smut #nct fluff #nct jeno #nct jaemin #nct reactions #nct imagines #nct scenarios #lee jeno #na jaemin

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deejadabbles · 3 years

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Vampire Atem/Yami Alphabet Headcanons

Found this list of vamp-themes headcanons by @an-annyeoing-writer and I knew I had to do them for our favorite king-turned-spirit!

For those of you who read my Spells of Defiance series, these headcanons can be taken as 100% canon to that AU <3

A - Accident - would they turn someone to save their life?

Oof, already starting with a hard one. So, Atem is one of those vampires who hates his existence, he believes it’s a curse. However, he does still love and care for people deeply, and he knows that for many, life is sacred even if it’s a cursed life. I think in a moment of weakness, especially in his earlier years as a vampire, he might turn someone just because he’s desperate not to lose them, only to regret his decision later, especially if that someone is like him and hates what they’ve become. We all make mistakes, right?

B - Bite - how do they bite? Sensually, aggressively? Do they make it hurt or try to be gentle?

Atem is extremely gentle when he feeds off of people, always careful not to bite too deep or tear the skin more than needed, he even holds you and tries to soothe you with gentle strokes of his hands. Now, whether he tries to make it “sensual” or at all sexual...that’s a complicated topic. While Atem is almost always disgusted with himself when/while he feeds, he does recognize that there is a level of intimacy and even romance that can be connected with drinking blood, so sometimes he can be persuaded to make it a more sensual thing if you’re his lover.

C - Control - do they take advantage of their powers?

That depends on who’s in the equation. I can see Atem using his new powers in order to bring justice to those he sees as wrong doers (like his season 0/early manga-self) as a way to make his vampire abilities useful, so from that angle he would “take advantage” of his powers. He might even get some small gratification in using his strength and speed to hunt down evil people, them cowering in fear is retribution for their wrong-doings, but even that’s not too over the top. Other than that, no, he doesn’t really use his powers for advantages over others.

D - Dangerous - how scary they can get? How bad things can they do? What’s their ethics?

So, while Atem does have a very strong moral code, Atem also has a temper, and said temper might be harder to control when he’s a vampire. Even when he’s not growling in anger, he can have this cold glare that could make bikers squeamish. There are moments, especially when he was a younger vampire, where he loses his temper and can get pretty scary. If you’re his loved one don’t worry too much, he would never lose control enough to hurt you, even though his yelling (and maybe throwing a thing or two) is pretty scary on it’s own. If you’re someone he sees a vermin though watch out, when he gets scary you’re probably going to end up dead or wishing you were dead.

E - Exchange - do they opt for blood bags or animal blood, if possible?

He opts for animal blood as often as he can. Sometimes he’ll hunt said animals himself but even that is a little too violent for his liking (Atem is a softie okay?!) so if he can go to a local butcher and get animal blood from them he’ll do it that way. He’s not fond of blood bags because A) they’re harder to acquire and B) having human blood in a cold plastic bag just makes him long for warm human blood and skin under his teeth more. Sure animal blood isn’t as sustaining for him, but Atem spent decades (maybe even centuries) figuring out how much animal blood he needs to consume in order to keep his blood lust under control so he’ll choose that over harming an innocent human.

Also, side note, if you live with him I hope you don’t have a sensitive sense of smell, because he heats up the blood on the stove to make it taste better and it can make the house stinky lol

F - First bite - on what occasion would they bite you for the first time?

Oooh that’s a good one. Like I said Atem has a very complicated relationship with feeding from his loved ones, especially his s/o, and he’s never going to ask you for your blood. So I’d say that not only would you have to offer your blood to him, but he would have to be out of other feeding options at the time. He knows that once he reaches a certain point of hunger he loses control and might kill you in a hunger-induced blood rage, so if drinking from you now, before he gets to that point, prevents that danger, he’d be willing to. Like I said above, Atem would be very gentle with you on that occasion, holding you close and stroking the skin around the bite mark to soothe any pain, and when he’s done he’d kiss the wound and the sore skin around it as amends.

The only other “first bite” scenario I can think of is if you spend months convincing him that you don’t mind (or even like) the occasional bite and finally convince him to drink your blood during an intimate moment, and again he’s very gentle and mindful of not hurting you.

G - Growl - are they more on the “civilized” side or do they enjoy hunting their prey down?

A bit of both, I guess? Since he tries not to drink from humans he’s more civilized in that way, but like I said before he does “hunt” evil people like an avenging dark angel, which he may get some small form of enjoyment from, so...

H - Hate - how do they feel about their kind? About themselves?

It’s honestly pretty depressing how much self-loathing Atem harbors. He genuinely thinks he’s an abomination. It doesn’t help that in all his centuries of living, he’s met very few vampires who’re “good” like him. He’s also someone who’s on a high horse and if he met a vamp who didn’t kill human’s but also wasn’t self loathing like him, he’d look down on said vampire. I’m warning you now if you fall in love with him, his self-hatred is very upsetting and can be hard to deal with.

I - Intimacy - how fast would they let you close to them? Would they want to share with you what they are?

Surprisingly, I say it’s not that hard. See, even though Atem thinks he’s a monster and tries his best to stay away from people, he also craves companionship and love. Sure, he’s spent several chunks of his immortal life isolating himself in remote woods and tall mountains for decades at a time, but he always returns to humanity at some point. So if you show that you want to be close to him he’ll try to warn you or even scare you away a bit, but it won’t take too long to let you in. And yes, he’d share what he is with you if you started to get close to him, not only as a means to scare you away “before he can hurt you” but also so you know what you’re getting into by being near him.

J - Joke - would they do pranks on other people with the use of their powers?

Sometimes, yes. If he’s close to you, he’ll start to get comfortable and like teasing you, so he’ll do minor things like sneak up behind you soundlessly and jump scare you, or zoom past you to get to something before you and play keep-away. Also, he doesn’t do this one intentionally, but sometimes he’ll be sitting in a dark room, and when you walk in you just suddenly hear this voice calling out to you in the darkness, scaring the crap outta you lol

K - Key - what’s the way of making them open up to you?

Honestly just...continue to shove your friendship in his face. Like I said under “intimacy” he still craves relationships and companionship despite how much he fears hurting people. He may try to push you away at first but if you just continue to hang around him he’ll eventually stop trying to scare you away and start opening up to you little by little.

L - Life - do they wish they were human?

Absolutely. I can see Atem, ever the fixer of problems, spending the first few hundred years searching for a cure for his “condition” not just for himself but for others who view vampires the same way. He often thinks about what his life would have been if he hadn’t been turned, and daydreams about the possibility of becoming human again.

M - Murder - would they kill someone while feeding? Have they ever done so?

Atem has killed while feeding, yes, but not voluntarily. I’m going with the general lore that vampires, when starved too long, can't control their bloodlust and Atem has killed while in that state. When he wakes with a limp, lifeless body in his arms, he’s a devastated wreck. Hurting innocent people is literally his living nightmare and the idea that his bloodlust can turn him into an animal sickens him. He would spend decades learning how much blood he needs to consume and how often, in order to keep that bloodlust from taking control.

N - Nature - do they justify their doings? Do they consider them natural?

Atem, the self-loathing martyr of a fanged prince, considering his bloodlust natural? LMAOOOO No. No he doesn’t, nor does he ever justify his actions. In fact, he uses the terrible things he’s done to justify why he shouldn’t be loved or even alive.

O - Odd - do they have any specific hobbies or habits?

Our gentle dark prince still loves games and puzzles, I think he’d like modern brain teasers that keep his mind sharp and un-ironically loves the puzzle games printed on the back of sunday newspapers, even though they aren’t hard (for him anyway). If you got close to him and showed him games he never got to play bc they’re multiplayers he’d honestly love you. He’d win most of the time, let's be honest, especially things like Clue, but his expression is just so cute and excited when you play his favorites that you’d lose 1000 times over just to see it.

P - Pain - are they sadistic? Do they enjoy what they do?

Nope. I think you all have the idea by now but Atem is one of the most self-loathing and gentle vampires you’d meet....or at least he’s gentle with you. Other vampires who hurt people for fun? Okay, I can see him being ever so slightly sadistic when dealing with creatures like that, he has no mercy for vampires who’ve embraced their monstrous curse, best you run the other way when he punishes them, else you may actually get a little frightened of him...

R - Roles - do they enjoy pretending to be normal people? How do they feel about leaving their life behind to start a new one?

I wouldn’t say that Atem pretends to be normal, in fact, the only part of his vampirism that he embraces is being an “other”, or rather, the aesthetic of being odd, something that most humans feel uneasy when confronted with. He’d see this as a good tool to keep people he may hurt away from him. He’s no stranger to stalking graveyards/cemeteries, creeping in the shadows in a way that has others scurrying past if they happen to spot him, basically anything that makes him seem creepy and makes others keep their distance. Ultimately it hurts him since he’s unexplainably lonely, but it hurts more to know he may hurt the humans he comes across. On the same note, leaving behind one life for another to avoid suspicion is a double-edged sword for him, while it reminds him how terribly lonely existence is, it’s good to keep those who might’ve grown close to him safe.

S - Scars - do they leave marks or try to make the wounds small and invisible?

If Atem feeds from someone voluntarily (as in, not in an animalistic state), he’ll do everything he can to not leave lasting marks. Leaving marks means more pain and we all know how much he hates causing pain to others.

T - Turned - how were they turned?

In my fic, Marik turned Atem as a form of revenge, but otherwise, I could honestly see Atem being turned by any YGO villain. I say villain because him being cursed with this life by a villain (like Bakura for example, or maybe another minion of Zorc) kind of goes along with the original story’s need to punish Atem and cast him into darkness for things that ultimately weren’t his fault.

U - Universe - what’s their biggest wish that they can’t achieve as immortals?

Mostly just...being close to people without constantly worrying that he’ll hurt or kill them. I can also see Atem yeaning for the simple pleasure of growing old and dying with one's family. If he fell in love he would crave the ability to just settle down and grow old together. Hell, he’s even one of those morbid romantics who thinks couples dying within days of each other is sweet and wishes he could do that when he loses his lover to old age.

V - Vampire - would they turn you?

Man again with the hard ones! Oof, okay, so...If you asked Atem to turn you, he’d say no, reciting his monologue about how vampires are cursed vermin who shouldn’t even exist, even if you retained your humanity after the turn, he knows the deep reaches of this curse and what it will make you do, and he hates the idea of you going through what he has.

...However, much like in the very first headcanon on this list...Atem makes mistakes and has his weak moments. If your life ended unexpectedly, of you were taken from him suddenly, like attacked or in some fatal accident, he may turn you in a moment of weakness; a desperate need to cling to you taking over his better judgment. He’d hate himself after and the only way he’d ever feel okay with it, is if time proved that you retained your humanity. He would teach you how to control your blood lust so you don’t have to go through half the things he has, and only then would he be okay with what he did to you in his moment of weakness.

W - War - would they engage in fighting their own kind for the humanity’s sake?

Yes! No one even has to ask him, Atem basically thinks the only good thing he can do with his powers is to rid the world of other vampires. He’s basically an avenging angel who’ll hunt down any vampire who threatens a human.

Y - Yandere - would they become dangerous to you (their lover)?

For the most part, I’d say no. Atem is self-aware and emotionally intelligent enough to tell if he ever starts crossing lines into “unhealthy” territory, and if that ever happened, he’d literally run away. He would leave you in order to protect you, no matter how much it hurt. There may be one (literally ONE) incident where he does something to you that crosses the line, but he’d be instantly horrified and remove himself from your life, moving to the other side of the world with no means to follow him, if it meant protecting you from himself. Now the chances of this happening in the first place? Hard to say. I really don’t think Atem is unhinged or even violent enough for it to be likely, but, an argument could be made that after everything he’s gone through, Atem may start seeing you and his love for you in an obsessives, unhealthy way. Again though, even if this did happen he would realize it and run away before it can go too far.

Z - Zombie - are they on their way to losing sanity?

I don’t think so. Atem is as strong (mentally/emotionally) as they come. Maybe eventually, after millennia and millennia of constantly losing loved ones and dealing the the monster he’s become he would start losing his sanity, but that would take a long, long time.

#atem #yami yugi #atem x reader #yami x reader #pharaoh atem #yami yugi x reader #yugioh x reader #vampire au #vampire Atem #vampire yami #ygo #headcanons #atem headcanons #yami headcanons

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honeybunnybeez · 3 years

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HELLO! I was wondering if you do like paternal smp? If you do then I have this idea! It’s in the final control room in the first war. You’re erets child, when he pressed the button you realized your father just betrayed you and your friends-SOMETHING LIKE THAT! THANKS :D

"No other way" (ANGST) (PLATONIC)

♡Parent!Eret x Child!reader

♡Summary: You didn't know why your father wanted to keep you away from viewing the secret weapon he claim he had. What was so scary that he felt the need to ask you to leave thrice?

♡Gender Neutral Reader!

"(Y/n), love?"

"Yes?"

"It still isn't too late to turn back now," Eret reminds you once again as you 6 make your way through a narrow hallway where you father claims he's kept the secret weapon.

You let out a groan as you step down another step, frustrated and confused as to why he would ask that question for the 3rd time since you all left for this place.

"I've already told you I wanted to follow. Why ask if I would like to come only to ask if I would like to walk away now?" You didn't mean for it to sound rude, but you wanted to state your point. If a simple 'no, I want to keep going,' isn't clear enough for him he should at least explain why he keeps asking.

"I just, don't want you to get scared of what you'll see, that's all."

His reason didn't seem to sound all that complete and you didn't really like that. Before you could ask him to clarify, Tommy speaks up.

"Scared? After all the shit they've seen? A little weapon isn't going to scare them none, right (y/n)?"

Distracted by Tommy's subtle praise you forget about your question and choose to grin proudly at Tommy's words, "yeah, it isn't!"

Despite how he is, Tommy's always been one to tell you how brave and strong you are and how he knows that you'll grow up to be a complete badass, just like the rest of them. Despite his mean behavior, he's the most supportive of your growth out of everyone.

"Didn't you scream earlier when a bat flew over us?" Fundy adds causing the rest of them to laugh.

"Hey! In my defense those fuckers pop out of nowhere-"

"(Y/n), language. You're only 12," your father reprimands lightly, but you don't miss the smile in his voice.

"(Y/n), swear louder, make it echo!"

"Tommy, don't make (y/n) turn out to be a gremlin child like you," Wilbur scolds playfully.

"Excuse you, I am the perfect role model for them!"

You can't help but laugh and listen on with fondness as you hear them all start to bicker with one another.

You're little resistence group was far from perfect, but they were your best friends, your family. So of course you were hurt when your father kept asking if you wanted to stay back. You wanted to be there with them during every big moment, you didn't want to leave them behind.

"Eret, what is this?" You hear Tubbo ask.

Finally snapping out of your thoughts, you notice a little blackstone room at the end of the long hallway. There were chests sitting in them too, all with signs to show who they belonged too, and you even had your own!

"This is the final control room," your father explains, looking around.

"This is amazing," you say in awe. You look around to see the others having the same kind of reaction too.

You can't help yourself from opening the chest with your name on it. Upon opening it though, there wasn't anything in it. That was odd.

"There's nothing in the chest," Wilbur exclaims before you get the chance to. You turn to look at him and witness as Wilbur's face changes from confused to concern as he looks over at Tommy who checks out the button in the middle of the room.

"What does the button do?"

"Tommy-!"

Something can be heard clicking and opening and before you know it, four armed men appear seemingly out of nowhere to ambush and kill off your friends.

"WAIT, NO-!"

Before you can react and aid them in combat, your father knocks your sword out of your hands with his pickaxe, dragging you into another hidden room with him.

"Fuck, (Y/n)-!" You can hear Tommy's cries end quick as the sound of his body falling onto the floor quickly follows suit.

"You traitor!" You hear Wilbur scream out before he too meets the similar fate his friend has.

You scream for mercy through the blackstone wall, begging them not to hurt your friends but it's too late. You don't hear anymore screams or the sound of swords clashing with one another. It's all just radio silence and it happened far too quick for you to truly process that this is all real.

Something your father steps on opens the hidden blackstone door once again and he steps out of the room with a smirk and a salute.

"Down with the revolution boys!"

You don't how to react, all you can do is stare wide eyed at the four lifeless bodies of your friends slowly fading away from where they lay.

They cheer, the bastards you've been taught to hate cheer and your father is cheering alongside with them. The man who took you in when no one else would, the man you trusted with every fibre of your being, is celebrating with the enemy.

"It was never meant to be."

Hearing your father say that causes all the rage bubbling inside of you to burst and for the first time in a while, you let out an ear piercing scream that echoes through the room.

"HOW COULD YOU!?"

All five men turn to look at you, the bastards still have grins on their faces but your father's face made you feel the sickest. He had the audacity to look at you with such worry, such concern.

"(Y/n)-"

"THEY WERE OUR FRIENDS,FATHER!"

He tries to open his mouth to speak again but you don't give him the chance to, cutting him off before he could even get a letter in.

"AND EVEN IF THEY WEREN'T YOUR FRIENDS, THEY WERE MINE FOR FUCKS SAKE, THEY WERE LIKE FAMILY TO ME! THEY WERE MY FAMILY AND YOU BACKSTABBED THEM!"

You heart starts to ache further and the tears you were trying so hard to hold back fall with no end in sight. You start to wonder if they think you were part of this plan as well and if they hate your guts too. God, you hope that isn't the case, you don't think you could take it if they hated you when you still loved them back.

He tries to come closer, tries to hug you but you use all the strength you can muster to shove him away, and you do a pretty good job at moving him back and shocking him.

"Don't touch me!" You cry out, wiping away the tears that blur your vision. "Don't ever touch me again, you fucking traitor!"

A chuckle can be heard coming from behind your father as you scream at him.

"Well, looks like someone has a tantrum on their hands," the joke Dream gives causes the other three members of his group to laugh and you can't help but grit your teeth and clench your fist as you struggle not to argue back or stab him right through his ugly mask.

"(Y/n), please, listen to me," he pleads, but your head is starting spin from the stress and you're trying to block out any and all sounds in the room. Begging any higher power above that this is just a nightmare. A scary nightmare that you'll soon wake up from with Tommy and Tubbo sleeping close by just as half haphazardly as you are.

"Why?" You whimper out before you can stop yourself. "Why did you do this."

You can't help but take a few steps back as he walks over to you and kneels down to your level. It hurts your father's heart to no end to see you terrified of him, acting like a skittish stray kitten from a village. He starts to doubt his actions for a moment when he sees how frantic you are, but a ringing promise in his head is what reminds him of why he did what he did.

"I did it so we would be safe. So that you could be safe," his voice is barely above a whisper as he says so, like he doesn't want anyone else to hear. Dream gives a quick glance, like he knows something, but he doesn't comment, choosing instead to continue talking the the others.

You shake your head, refusing to accept his bullshit answer, "There could've been another way, you didn't have to do this-!"

He tried to find other ways, he swears, but Dream knew too much and held too much power against him, against everyone. He could take everything away from him, he could take you away from him and he couldn't have that. Sure he now had a target on his head with the resistance, but it's better than having Dream target both him and you. He doesn't tell you all of this though, not yet, it isn't the right time to.

"(Y/n)," your father tries once again to hold you and this time you can't find any power left within you to shove him off again. So you let him hug you, but your arms remain firmly planted to your side, fighting the urge to hug him back for comfort.

"Trust me, there truly was no other way..."

A/N: DID SOMEONE CALL THE ANGST DOCTOR? :D Ah, lord, I had a little too much fun with this but I may have gone out of topic and ooc so I'm very sorry if I did! I've read the parental smp stories before and I adore them to absolute bits so I may have squealed when I got this ask. Thank you anon for the request and I hope you all enjoyed it as well!

(Requests are open and anon is on!)

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #dream smp x reader #dream smp imagines #eret x reader

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moonlit-jeno · 3 years

Text

evanescence (m.)

pairing: kim jungwoo x fem. reader

genre/warnings: ghost au, explicit sexual content, angst, fluff, mentions of death, some graphic violence/ gore, character death, brief mention of heights, i swear it’s not as bad as it sounds

word count: 7.8k

summary:

evanescence (n.): the quality of being fleeting or vanishing quickly; impermanence; i.e the evanescence of dreams

song to listen to: me & your ghost- blackbear, faded in my last song- nct, trampoline- SHAED, lonely heart- 5 seconds of summer, dreaming with a broken heart- john mayer

notes: evanescence i.e not the band who wrote my immortal <3 part of the almost collab!

The thing about fear is that it’s irrational.

Of course the doll in the corner of your room won’t suddenly come alive and kill you. Of course the spider on your ceiling is actually harmless. Of course nightmares won’t come true and haunt you in your daily life, won’t do more than bother you for a few minutes when you’re asleep. Knowing that doesn’t make it any less scary. Doesn’t stop the shivers from crawling up your spine, doesn’t ease your breathing when you curl into yourself in an attempt to hide.

Some people find comfort in crawling under their blankets, hiding themselves from the rest of the world as if the thick cloth will protect them. You don’t have that luxury. Because the thing you fear isn’t some axe murderer breaking into your house, or some mutant spider wrapping you up in a web. It’s not ghosts or ghouls or demons.

It’s sleep itself.

You used to love sleeping. Naps were considered a favorite hobby of yours, a way to escape from your obligations temporarily or lift your spirits during a bad day. But the line between like and dislike is thin, and the peaceful dreams you were accustomed to transformed into terrors that torture your nights and leave you shaking and sleep deprived when you wake.

Coffee becomes your best friend, the drink becoming a crutch that you use desperately to avoid reliving the nightmare that haunts you every time your eyes fall shut. It’s always the same scene: a basement, a young man being tortured by a masked figure. Punched, strangled, stabbed. It’s always in that order, with the exact same amount of punches and stabbings each time- six. It’s worse than any movie you’ve ever seen, worse than anything that you can imagine. And yet it doesn’t get any less horrifying as time goes on, as you relive the same thing over and over again.

The only thing that changes is the point of view. Sometimes you can see it from his perspective, begging for mercy from an expressionless figure whose ears fall deaf to the boy’s pleas. That’s the worst, you think, because you can feel everything. It leaves you frantically checking yourself for wounds and marks and bruises, the vividness of your dream leaving you shocked when you find your skin unmarred. Sometimes you watch from the corner of the room, able to see everything yet unable to help, your voice stuck in your throat when you attempt to cry for help. And sometimes, you’re the killer, repeatedly delivering blow after blow in a body you can’t control.

Tonight’s different. Instead of the boy strapped to the chair, it’s you.

You shake and cry out, trying desperately to free yourself of the restraints. They aren’t strong, and yet your limbs feel like jelly and you can’t break free of them. A shadow looms over you and you look up, expecting to see the killer, but you don’t. Instead, the boy stands over you.

His features are softer like this, not scrunched in pain or splattered with blood and bruises. He smiles gently at you.

“Hello,” He says, kneeling down in front of you. One hand lands on yours and the restraints fall away, your limbs now free. “I’m Jungwoo.” You just blink at him. “I’ve seen you in my dreams.” Jungwoo’s smile falters a bit, and he huffs a humorless laugh. “That… yeah. That’s less of a dream and more of a…” He trails off, shrugs. “Memory.”

It takes a moment for it to process fully. Memory? If that’s his memory, then that means that he had to go through all of that. “I’m- I’m so sorry. Who put you through that?” He shrugs. “Dunno. But I wouldn’t pity me too much.” There’s a tight lipped smile on his face. “I’m the one that’s made you go through it, too.”

You blink once, twice, and feel the sympathy in your bones turn to fury. “Why?” You ask, tears brimming at your eyes. “I didn’t do anything to you! And you still tortured me, every night. Do you know how terrified I was? I am?”

“I’m sorry.” Jungwoo says, eyes downcast. “I didn’t even know I was projecting onto you at first. I would just get so consumed with what happened that night, and I guess you would relive the scene with me.” He takes a slow step towards you and raises his head. “I never meant to hurt you, I’m sorry.” You nod, because what can you say? Jungwoo doesn’t seem to know either and he stands there, shifting from foot to foot, looking everywhere but at you. “So.” You start, head tilting to the side curiously. “How does this work?” “How does what work?” Jungwoo seems surprised, but whether it’s by your question or by the fact that you’re able to string a coherent sentence together is lost on you.

“I dunno. This. Like are you a ghost? Do you just like, live inside my head now.” “Yeah, I mean I’m dead so I must be a ghost. Haven’t had much time to talk to people and ask.” It’s not meant to be funny, but you can’t stop yourself from laughing. You clear your throat to cover it, trying to focus your energy on your next words. He doesn’t look too hurt at your amusement, though. His eyes are twinkling.

“Hmm let’s test it. If you live in my head, you should be able to hear my thoughts right?” Jungwoo stares at you, bringing one hand up to stroke his chin thoughtfully. Finally, he snaps his fingers. “Got it! You want pizza.” “Nope! I want you out of my head.” Your smile is sickeningly sweet. Jungwoo rolls his eyes, tongue sticking into his cheek briefly before laughing.

“Well, I want to be alive but here we are. Guess we’re at a standstill.”

Guilt fills you and you open your mouth to apologize, but Jungwoo disappears right before your eyes. You try to call out after him but it’s too late, the dream’s over. The annoying beep of your alarm replaces his soft laughter and you groan, fumbling with your phone to turn the sound off.

Classes pass quickly for once, although you’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t register any of the material. You’re done for the day before you know it, finding yourself at a cafe with Johnny. “You’re in a good mood.” He comments, looking at you with his eyebrows furrowed. “Did you get replaced by aliens?” You roll your eyes. “I can be in a good mood, Johnny.” It’s rarely true because you’re normally running off of approximately six minutes of sleep, but hey, it still counts.

Johnny raises his eyebrows. “Y/n, you’re never in a good mood. Not even when your best friend is here.”

“My best friend is here? Where?” Johnny gives you a deadpan expression and you laugh, popping a grape into your mouth. “Kidding, you know I love you. But guess what: I actually slept last night!” He gasps so obnoxiously loud that he inhales the chip he was holding and chokes around it, slamming his hand down on the table and hacking his lungs out. You put your head in your hands until he finally recovers. “You slept? You actually slept? Holy fuck, you did get replaced by aliens!”

“No aliens, John. No nightmares either.” Johnny, though he’s your best friend, doesn’t know the details of your dreams. He knows that they’re bad enough to make you cry and curl up in his arms from time to time, knows that you chug energy drinks to avoid sleeping, but that’s about it. No gruesome murders in sight for him.

“Holy shit, that’s great! We should celebrate.” Johnny reaches across the table to high five you, grinning from ear to ear. “Wanna come over and crack open a few cold ones?” He bites his lip and you know that it’s taking all of his effort not to finish that sentence.

You appreciate it, but you shake your head. “I’ve got a lab report to finish plus like two papers due. I really don’t have time.” That’s only slightly true. Yes, you do have homework, but you normally wouldn’t let that stop you. The itch to see Jungwoo again, however crazy it may sound, is driving you crazy and for once in your life, you can’t wait to fall asleep. Seeing Johnny’s expression drop makes you feel a little bad for bailing on him with a ghost. “Maybe this weekend?”

“Yeah, for sure.” Johnny grins again. “Hopefully you get to sleep tonight.”

The nightmares seem to go away permanently after that. Your dreams always take place in that one room, but Jungwoo’s always there to greet you. A month passes and you learn a lot about him, almost to the point where you see him as a friend. Almost. Because you can’t really be friends with someone who isn’t alive, right? But he feels real. His spirit is still alive, to the point where you forget he’s a ghost who you can only talk to in your dreams, and that’s what matters. Except tonight when you fall asleep, you open your eyes to sand and salt water, gentle waves calmly lapping at the shore. Strange. Jungwoo sits with his back facing you, knees drawn up to his chest. He doesn’t look up when you sit down next to him, but he does speak when you say his name softly.

“I think I figured out why I came back.” Jungwoo says, eyes concentrated on the water. “My brother’s in danger.” His head drops to rest on his knees and you pat his back, not knowing what to say.

You don’t learn what Jungwoo meant until the next night, the man so distraught that he isn’t able to form words before your time’s up. The scene is different again this time, a playground replacing the beach from the night before. Jungwoo sits on a red plastic swing, his feet dragging on the ground sadly.

“Hey Jungwoo.” You call out the greeting gently, taking a seat next to him. “Are you okay?” He nods, laughs a little. “Yeah, sorry for freaking out last night. It’s just. It’s a lot.” “Sounds like it is. You wanna talk about it?” You pat his knee comfortingly and he stares at your hand for a long moment before covering it with his own.

He tells you about his brother first, about how much he misses Mark, about how bad he feels for leaving him on his own. Mark’s younger than him, but only by a year, and he was nowhere near as good as him at FIFA. He tells you that he doesn’t remember who killed him, but that as soon as he was transported to the beach, he knew his brother was in danger. There’s no explanation on how the beach told him that, but you have no place questioning the afterlife. You listen patiently throughout the whole story, and it seems to help Jungwoo, his shoulders sagging with relief when he’s done.

“So whoever killed me,” Jungwoo squeezes your hand, stares at the woodchips dragging around. “They’re going to kill my brother next.”

“So we find your killer. Easy.” You squeeze his hand back. “Mark’s going to be okay, Woo. I promise.”

Tonight’s dream takes place on a rooftop. There are lights strung up that lead you straight to Jungwoo, the man facing you with a smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes. His arms are outstretched and you walk into them, sighing softly when he wraps you in his embrace. Lips press to your forehead and you swear you’ve reached heaven. “Dance with me.” He whispers it as if you have a choice to disagree with him when he looks this good. You nod and bury your face in his chest, swaying with him under the stars. There’s music playing now, music that you didn’t hear before, and he hums softly to it as you dance. A squeal leaves you when he spins you, dipping you down before pulling you close, your back to his chest. His lips graze your ear and he laughs before spinning you back around and pulling you into a kiss.

It feels so good and you find yourself getting lost in his touch. The warmth of him against you, the solidness of his chest under your palms. It’s so nice, so comforting, so… real. But it can’t be real. Because this is a dream, because Jungwoo is dead. The thought is enough to jolt you out of your haze and you try to pull back, need to pull back, but the hand on the back of your head holds you still and it feels so good that you almost don’t want to pull out of his embrace. “Jungwoo,” you mumble his name against his lips, not wanting to pull away from the kiss but needing to know the answer to your question. “Jungwoo, are you real?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Jungwoo chuckles, pulling you back for more. “Don’t I feel real?”

A gasp leaves you when his hand slips lower to your ass, squeezing before slipping between your thighs. He finds little resistance, easily reaching under your dress and past the thin panties you’re wearing to swipe through your folds and enter you, stretching you out deliciously well. You cling to him as if he’s your life line and not the other way around, letting him take you apart with his fingers. His name leaves your lips in a sob and you press your face against his neck, clutch at his shoulders. “Please, Jungwoo, please.”

Both of his hands slide to your ass and he picks you up easily, your legs wrapping around his waist automatically. He carries you over to the ledge of the roof, setting you down on the cool stone. He barely gives you time to take in what’s happening before he’s dropping to his knees in front of you, his eyes dark and so intense that you can’t look away from his gaze as he attaches his lips to your thighs. You slide one hand into his hair and he moans into your skin, the vibrations traveling through you as he kisses his way up your thighs and to your core. A sigh leaves you and you put your other hand behind you for balance, your heart dropping to your stomach when your fingertips wrap around the edge of the balcony. “Jungwoo!” You yelp immediately trying to stand up when you look behind you and see the darkness below you, decorated with lights from buildings so far down that they’re almost as tiny as the stars above you. “Jungwoo, I’m gonna fall. Ohmygod I’m gonna fall, Woo-”

“Shh,” Jungwoo hushes you, rubbing your thigh soothingly. He reaches for your hand and laces your fingers together, taking a moment to press his lips to the back of your hand. “Look at me, y/n. You’re not going to fall, okay? I’ll always be here to catch you if you do.” Something in his eyes looks so honest, so sincere, and you find yourself nodding slowly.

“Okay.” Your voice comes out as a whisper, too scared to raise it any louder and break the moment between you. “I trust you.” Jungwoo smiles up at you one more time before lowering himself down to your core. His free hand lifts the edge of your dress up and he takes his time rubbing slow circles into your clit, sighing out praises about how good you are when you shake from the unbearably intense sensation. His eyes stay on yours the whole time, even as he lowers his mouth to your pussy and eats you out like a man starved. It feels so good that you can barely process it, squirming against him and letting your eyes roll back.

“Fuck, Jungwoo,” You whimper, feeling your orgasm build up in the pit of your stomach. “Shit, c’mere.” You use the hand buried in his hair to tug him up, pressing his lips to yours for a sloppy kiss that feels way too good for the moment. He rubs messy circles into your clit that have you clutching him tight to your chest, crying out his name so loud that you’re sure the entire city can hear you. “You like that?” Jungwoo asks, although his voice is so cocky that you’re almost entirely sure he knows the answer. “Fucking love it,” You pant out, orgasm so close you can taste. “Love you, ohmygod.” The end of your sentence cuts off with a whine as you come so hard you nearly black out, holding onto him so tightly you’re sure you would’ve broken at least one of his bones if this were real.

If this were real, if he were real. If this wasn’t a dream with a ghost. The realization washes over you like cold water and the dream disappears before you in a flash, leaving you trembling and empty in more ways than one. Your hand is tingling and when you look at it, you realize that Jungwoo didn’t let go the entire time.

You’re not in your bed when you wake up. It takes you a moment to realize it, the weight of your dream still heavy on your mind, but then you open your eyes and process your surroundings and realize that even though you’re awake, you’re back in your nightmares.

A scream leaves you and you jolt out of the chair, falling flat on your ass. You scramble backwards a good few feet before relaxing, realizing that your mind was just playing tricks on you. This is no nightmare place, it’s just your basement. Except…

That chair is definitely the chair from your nightmares- or well, Jungwoo’s murder. You’ve never seen it down here before, but then again, you never go into the basement. It’s been years since you’ve been down here, the room always giving you the creeps. And you’ve never sleepwalked- you can’t fathom why you’d be down here.

“Jungwoo?” You whisper, not even flinching at the gust of cold air as he materializes next to you. “Why am I down here?” “This is where I was murdered.” Jungwoo murmurs, his gaze distant, cloudy. You furrow your eyebrows.

“Here? Are you sure?” He nods strongly, not an ounce of hesitation on his face. You get to your feet and watch him pace around, tentatively poking at objects. A violent shudder runs through him when he touches the chair. “Jungwoo, this is my house.” He freezes. “This is your house? Then you must know who murdered me.”

There’s a long second where you just stare at him, not knowing what to say. Thoughts abandon you and your mind goes blank, leaving you to shake your head and stutter out objections. “W- No, Jungwoo, I can’t-” A deep breath, a heavy exhale. “No one ever comes down here, and I can’t remember the last time I even had people here.”

“Well someone had to come down here!” Jungwoo presses, motioning at himself. “Y/n, I’m dead. You could help me find who killed me.”

You spend hours thinking through every person you know, mulling over all of your friends and anyone else who has ever been to your house. Parents are ruled out immediately- they live across the country, first off, and your mom nearly cries whenever she so much as swats a fly. Jungwoo tries to help, but he doesn’t know anyone the way that you do, and he’s a tad bit negative.

“Okay, but how do you know they’re not killers.” He asks, tone flat. “I mean, do you have hard evidence? Because somehow none of them are killers, and yet…” He smiles humorlessly and holds his arms out, doing a twirl for you. “I’m dead.” “I’m trying.” You say tiredly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “It’s just hard. Literally no one ever comes over, and I can’t picture my friends as killers. Plus, no one has access to my house except for me.” You purse your lips, staring at your sad little notepaper list with dozens of names scratched out. “Is it possible this happened before I lived here?” Jungwoo shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.” He doesn’t look convinced.

You purse your lips, groaning in defeat when your mind stays blank. “I’m sorry, Woo. We’ll figure it out eventually, I promise. I just can’t think right now.” “Hey, it’s okay. Thank you for helping and not like, I don’t know, calling an exorcist.” Jungwoo presses himself to your side, poking your cheek when you laugh, and his presence is so comforting that it’s easy to forget that he’s not really there. You swat at him good naturedly, your laugh cutting off early when you realize that he’s disappeared. You call for him a few times, panic racing through your mind, until he manifests again a few feet away from you.

“Ohmygod, I’m so sorry! Did that hurt you? I didn’t know that would happen!” You jump to your feet, reaching out to him on impulse before thinking better of it.

Jungwoo laughs softly, but his form flickers. “It’s okay. I guess you can only touch me in dreams.” He smiles, but it’s with his mouth closed tight. The chair becomes visible through his form as he flickers again.

The mention of touch jolts your memories and you scratch the back of your neck nervously. “Wait, Woo, I meant to ask.” He looks at you expectantly, humming for you to go on. “Last night, in the dream. Was that like, was that really you?” “Hm? Are you asking if it was real or not?” Jungwoo asks. You nod, unable to look away from his gaze. “It was me, y/n. I’m real.”

You nod, lips pursed as you think it over. Jungwoo smiles though it’s hollow, hard to see the usual light in him when he’s nearly translucent again. “I’ll see you tonight?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer before vanishing, leaving you alone in the cold basement.

“Yeah.” You whisper softly, a dark cloud hanging over your head.

“What’s in the bag?” Johnny asks you, nodding towards your bookbag. It’s normally empty, save for a notebook or wallet, but today it’s stuffed full of newspaper clippings and binders.

“Nothing.” You shrug. “Just some old articles.”

Johnny thumbs through a stack of the papers before looking up at you, his forehead creased. “On murders?”

“Yeah. They’re interesting. Figured I should know the history of the town I live in, right?” You take a sip of your coffee, hoping you don’t look as insane as you feel. It’d taken you hours of searching to find those articles, digging through the library archives and reading murder after murder to find ones that seemed similar to Jungwoo’s case. They were unsettling, to say the least, and the fact that someone had taken a life under your own roof left you jittery. “I mean, I guess?” Johnny shakes his head and thumbs through a few more, hesitating at one of the clippings before shoving them back in your bag. “Kind of an appetite killer.” He says, pausing after a second and laughing. “Hah, get it? Killer…” The cold stare you give him has him sobering up quickly. He clears his throat. “Anyways. What else have you been up to? You’ve been kinda distant lately.” Have you been? Probably. “Sorry.” You shrug. “Caught up in my work, you know how it is.” Johnny wiggles his eyebrows. “Seeing a new man?” You shoot him a withering look. He throws his hands up innocently. “Woman? Person?”

The word ‘ghost’ is on the tip of your tongue, but that sounds insane even to you. You can’t be seeing someone whose body fades out of existence when you so much as blow air on him too strongly. “No, Johnny. I’d tell you if I was dating someone.” “Promise?” He asks. You hold your pinky out to him, interlocking the digits and offering him a smile. He grins back. “Good. You wanna come over tonight? Play some video games, order some pizza?”

It sounds good, and you really don’t want to be alone at your house after discovering it was the site of a murder, but you don’t want to leave Jungwoo. He’s kind of counting on you for something big, plus you have all those articles to show him…

At your hesitation, Johnny pouts. “Come on, I feel like I’ve barely seen you for like, a month. Please? It’ll be just like old times.” The promise of old times has your resolve fading, and you give into his whining. He cheers and knocks your coffees together, dramatically complaining when the liquid splashes onto his sleeve.

Taking a nap had seemed like a great idea when you had gotten home from lunch, but it’s the first time you’ve dreamt without Jungwoo in your dreams, and all of the nightmares were so genuinely disturbing that you wake up sobbing. Every room seems so foreboding that you can’t bring yourself to sit in the house any longer and you run out the door without any further thought. The rain soaks through your thin sleep clothes and you find that you have three missed calls from Johnny, but you don’t bother to call him back. You’ll be at his place soon enough, and the rain is starting to blue the screen too much for you to see. Or maybe it’s your tears, you can’t be sure, and you really don’t care.

You knock on Johnny’s door, stepping back and impatiently shifting from foot to foot before stepping forward and knocking again. Exhaling harshly, you raise your fist to knock again. The door opens.

A very disgruntled Johnny stands before you, one hand wiping at his face. His hair is disheveled and you have the conscious thought that he must have just woken up, but your brain is flying a million miles a second and you don’t have time to spend worrying about if you’ve interrupted his beauty sleep. “Y/n?” Johnny yawns out, opening the door wider. “You were supposed to come over like 3 hours ago.” His sentence goes unfinished as you push past him, grabbing his wrist and dragging him to the living room. With your hands on his shoulders, you push him down to sit on the couch. He looks less tired and more confused now, which makes sense considering he’s never seen you act like this- you’re not even sure that you’ve ever acted like this- but he keeps silent, trusting you enough to tell him what the fuck is going on. He patiently puts his hands on his knees, watching you pace around the area.

It takes you a while to formulate exactly what to say to him. How exactly do you tell your best friend that you’ve been helping a ghost solve his own murder without him attempting to send you to a psych ward? After a few moments of pacing, in which you accidentally leave a trail of muddy footprints on Johnny’s carpet, you pause.

“This is going to sound insane.” You start, facing Johnny. He nods encouragingly, motioning for you to go on. “I need you to believe me. Promise me that you’ll hear me out until the very end.” Johnny nods. “No, I need you to promise me.” Maybe it’s how frantic your voice sounds, or the fact that you’re soaking wet and still breathing heavily from your run, but Johnny promises without hesitation. His voice is soft and his eyes are wide and you thank God for giving you such a good best friend. You search his eyes with your own, and finding nothing but encouragement and trust, you begin.

“Okay, so. You know those nightmares I’ve been having?” A nod. “Okay, so apparently there’s a ghost living in my house that’s been like, projecting their memories onto me.” Johnny blinks, not even trying to hide the skeptical look on his face. “Before you say anything, I know it sounds crazy. But ghosts are real. Jungwoo- Jungwoo’s real.” Johnny inhales sharply. “His name is Jungwoo?”

“Yeah. He was murdered 4 years ago in my basement. My basement, Johnny.” You take a deep breath, shuddering. “Whoever did it is still out there, and Jungwoo thinks that his brother might be in danger.” You shift anxiously from foot to foot, hands wringing together in front of you until Johnny takes them into his own, thumbs rubbing over the backs of your hands to calm you. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but can you help me find him? I just need to make sure that he’s okay, and I know it’s silly that I promised a ghost but-” “I’ll help.” There’s a reassuring smile on Johnny’s face when he interrupts you, and you breath out in relief. “It’s okay, y/n. I believe you.”

You launch yourself forward into his arms, hugging him tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I don’t deserve you.” Johnny laughs. “Yeah, you don’t.” He pulls back from the hug long enough to look you in the eyes. “For right now, let's go to bed, yeah? You really look like you need some rest.”

“Okay, so here’s his address. I mean, I think it’s his address.” Johnny looks over your shoulder at the satellite image of Mark’s house, nodding. “We can get there in about two hours.” Johnny hums, stepping away from the computer. “I can get us there faster than that, don’t worry. C’mon, let’s have some coffee and then we can go.” He makes sure you eat something that actually has nutritional value before you go, even going as far as to pack a bag before you hit the road. Johnny does his best to reassure you throughout the drive, but you’re a nervous mess. You compulsively take sips from the water bottle Johnny had forced you to take with and it’s empty in no time, leaving you to drum your fingers along your thighs and squirm with a full bladder.

The house looks so much bigger, so much more foreboding in person. Johnny gives you a reassuring look and after a deep breath, you knock on the door. It takes a few seconds before it creaks open to reveal a man around your age peering at you through black-rimmed glasses that sit crookedly on his face. “Hello?” “Hi, Mark?” he nods, looking you up and down. “Do you have a moment to talk? I just have a few questions, it w-” He’s already moving to close the door before the sentence is even out of your mouth. “Wait, Mark!” You manage to wedge your foot in the door before it closes and he groans, rolling his eyes.

“Look, I’m really not in the mood to buy anything, so if you could just please-” He tries again. “It’s about your brother!” You exclaim, finally succeeding in getting Mark to listen. He freezes and stares down at you dumbly. His eyes stay on you for a little too long before lifting to look behind you.

“Johnny?” Mark asks, eyes widening. “Is that you?” You look over to find Johnny standing behind you, a soft smile on his face. “Yeah, it’s me. How you doin, kid?”

Mark lets you into the house after tackling Johnny into a hug, offering you tea and a seat on the couch. “I didn’t know you knew Jungwoo,” You whisper to Johnny, watching Mark grab cups from the kitchen.

Johnny shrugs. “Never had a reason to bring him up.” He definitely could’ve brought him up earlier, like when you mentioned you were seeing his ghost, but you brush it off as nothing. Maybe he didn’t want to upset you.

Mark returns, offering you each a cup of tea before taking a seat on the couch opposite you. “Wow, it’s been so long.” Mark laughs, clutching his tea for dear life. “It’s so good to see friends of Jungwoo’s again. It’s like, it’s not the same as seeing him but. It’s nice.”

“Good to see you too, Mark.” Johnny smiles. “I looked all over for you after Jungwoo’s death, but I couldn’t find you. When did you move?” Mark sniffs. “Um, I think like a month after it happened. They arrested the guy that killed him and I dipped. It was too painful to see all those little reminders of him everywhere.” Mark sniffs again, and wipes harshly at his eye. It makes you tear up a little too, thinking about how fondly Jungwoo talked about his brother, how unfair it is that they got ripped apart so soon. One phrase sticks out to you and you manage to reel yourself back in before you start crying too hard.

“Wait, they caught the guy? Do you know who killed him?” You side eye Johnny because he must have known that the killer was caught already, and it doesn’t make sense that he didn’t tell you considering that was the sole reason for this trip.

“Um, well. Jungwoo uh, he had a sort of accident.” His hands are shaking, you notice. Some tea spills onto his leg. “He used to go out to all these parties and he swore he’d be safe but I guess he slipped up this one time.” Mark takes a deep breath and his voice cracks. “He was driving home from a party and he probably thought he was fine but he was way too drunk and he hit a pedestrian. He drove away but her boyfriend saw the whole thing and followed him.” Mark drops his head down and sobs a little.

Johnny moves to comfort him and Mark calms down after a few moments, skillfully changing the topic away from his dead brother. All the water that you drank in the car finally catches up to you and you excuse yourself for a second. Mark’s laughter rings clearly from the living room and you can’t help but to laugh too, smiling at Johnny’s ability to make everyone happy. You fix your hair in the mirror, a little spring in your step at the thought of being able to fulfill your promise to Jungwoo.

You wish he was with you right now as you walk down the hallway back to the living room. There are so many pictures on the walls, Mark’s accomplishments framed proudly. It sends an ache through your heart that you’re here to see all of this by yourself. It’s only then, when you’re picturing Jungwoo exploring the house with you, that you realize how quiet it’s gotten.

Frowning, you call out Johnny’s name. You get no response and call out again, finally catching movement out of the corner of your eye. “Johnny, why’d you sneak up on me?” A laugh leaves you when you turn to fully face him, cutting off only at the flash of color that slowly fades to black.

Your head is throbbing when you come to, vision taking a few seconds to clear up. A groan leaves you and you shake your head softly, coming face to face with Mark. A Mark whose mouth is covered with duct tape. You freeze, eyes widening, then look down to find that the rest of him is bound, too. “What-”

Panic surges through you when you realize that your hands and ankles are bound too, and you jerk your head to the side, frantically searching to make sure that Johnny’s okay. You don’t find him. It’s only you and Mark in the room. “Johnny? Hey, whoever the fuck has us down here better leave Johnny the fuck alone!” You might currently be tied up, but the fact that your best friend is missing and potentially hurt overtakes any concern you may have for yourself. Mark’s eyes widen and he shakes his head frantically. You furrow your eyebrows and go to ask what he means, but you don’t get the chance.

“Oh, don’t worry. Johnny’s just fine.” The sentence comes from the man himself, standing right in front of the door. Relief fills you, turning to dread the second he closes the door and flips the lock. “You however…” “Johnny? What are you doing?” You ask, watching as he rolls his sleeves up to the elbow.

He tips his head to the side, looking at you with confusion. “Isn’t it obvious?” The glint in his eyes matches the knife he picks up, the dim light catching on the shine of the blade. “For someone who apparently experienced Jungwoo’s death dozens of times, you should be able to figure it out.”

You blink once, twice, and then your eyes bug so far out of your head you worry they might fall out. A soft wheeze leaves you as your chest constricts, panic blooming in your gut. Johnny wheezes too, but his is a wheeze of laughter. He’s amused.

His eyes slide down to Mark, whose eyes are glimmering with fresh tears. “Did you know it was me Mark? Did you know it was me who killed your brother?” The boy shakes his head frantically, tears free-falling down his cheeks now. There’s some muffled cries that you think sound like no, but the tape traps them and makes him incomprehensible. “Really?” Johnny asks, stepping forward until he reaches Mark and then squatting down in front of him.

“Liar.” Johnny whispers, dragging the syllables out. The point of the knife presses into the boys throat, and while the noise Mark makes is barely audible, you can feel his suffering. There’s a tense moment as Johnny increases the pressure, Mark leaning backwards as far as he can to get away, before Johnny pulls it away. Mark exhales strongly, relaxing a little bit. He’s still crying. “It doesn’t matter, though.”

Tears would probably be rolling down your cheeks if you could process what was happening. But shock has taken ahold of you, and you can only watch helplessly as Johnny turns to glance back at you. “Thanks to y/n, now you’ll never get the chance to tell anyone.”

Johnny whips back around in record speed and slices the knife right through Mark’s throat.

A scream leaves you and you fall forward, unable to do anything but watch in horror as the line in Mark’s neck wells with blood, the poor boy convulsing in horror. A wretched gurgling noise leaves him as he chokes and frantically gasps for air, made even worse by the duct tape over his mouth. Johnny sets the knife down delicately and uses that hand to pinch his fingers over Mark’s nose, effectively shutting off his air-flow. The fight drains out of Mark’s body along with his life, and it’s just a few more seconds before he stills completely.

You can’t think of anything to say, can just gape at Mark’s body as Johnny lets go of him and the boy hits the floor. Johnny turns to you next, picking the knife back up.

“It’s a shame you’re always so curious, y/n.” Johnny sighs, shaking his head. “You’re my best friend, I’m going to miss you.”

There’s the faintest breeze against your cheek bone, your hair blowing to tickle the back of your neck. You try your best not to shiver when it starts blowing against your wrists. It takes you a moment to realize that it’s not a draft from an open window, but it’s Jungwoo. He’s not visible, probably because he’s focusing his energy on freeing you. If Johnny notices anything wrong, he doesn’t say anything. Your wrists aren’t free yet, but you can feel the rope loosening. If you can buy yourself some more time…

“Why are you doing this? Why did you kill Jungwoo in the first place?” Your question obviously catches Johnny off guard and he stops walking, glancing off to the side and sighing softly. He seems to have an internal debate but then he shrugs, settling down on the floor across from you. It calms you a little to have him seated instead of looming over you, and you try your best to stay absolutely still.

When Johnny speaks, there’s a hint of regret in his voice. It’s hard to tell if it’s manufactured or not. “Jungwoo and I were best friends. We always had each others backs, always told each other everything. Ride or dies.” His eyes lower to his knife and he smears the blood around the blade with his thumb. “I was the one who hit the girl. I was drunk and it was stupid, but when I called Jungwoo to help me get rid of the body, he refused. He wanted to call the police, y/n. The police.” His eyes are brimming with tears now, and he looks up at you with an urgency that tells you to believe him. You don’t of course, and you can’t tell if he’s trying to convince you of his innocence, or himself. “My own best friend wanted to turn me in, y/n. I couldn’t let him do it.”

“How did you even get into my basement?”

“You were at a training retreat in the mountains for that job you ended up hating that weekend. I knew that your house was empty and where the spare key was, plus I knew that no one ever went into your basement.” Johnny shrugs. “His body’s in the backyard, in case you were wondering. Buried him under the dahlias.” The red dahlias, your mothers favorite plant. How many times had she gone out to water and tend to the flowers, unknowing of the poor boy who lay beneath? Your breath catches in your throat and you finally can feel tears pricking the back of your eyelids.

“You’re sick.” The sentence is barely above a whisper, but it carries enough weight with it. Johnny’s entire demeanor changes, his face twisting into an ugly scowl.

“I’m sick? I’m not the one that was going to betray my best friend by letting him rot in jail! How fucking dare you.” The ropes fall off of your wrists and you grab onto them to prevent them from hitting the ground and alerting Johnny. All that’s left is the rope on your ankle, and then you can make your move. “Yeah? Aren’t you betraying your best friend right now? Just like you did last time?” “I should’ve used the duct tape on you.” He murmurs, tightening his hold on the knife.

There’s enough give in the ropes that you can wiggle your ankles. You just need a few more seconds. “Why didn’t you?” “Ran out.” Johnny breathes, lunging at you. You squeak and roll to the side, groaning when your legs refuse to function. Sitting on them for so long made them feel like jelly and they tingle as the blood rushes back to your limbs. “What the- you little bitch.”

Johnny attacks again and you dodge yet again, doing nothing but rolling around and avoiding him. You definitely can’t beat him in a physical fight, but you can probably beat him in other ways.

Johnny’s breath catches in his throat. “J-Jungwoo?” He stops moving, obviously trying to process how someone who is clearly dead can stand in front of him. Unfortunately, his body doesn’t quite get the memo, and he trips over Mark’s form. A sickly thud resonates through the room as he falls, followed by a deafening silence.

When Johnny doesn’t move for a few seconds, you step closer to examine him. The first thing you notice is that there’s a little stain under his chest that’s steadily getting bigger, contrasting starkly against the wooden floor. The second thing you notice is the acrid stench of blood, too strong for the small room you’re in. Third is the tip of the blade sticking out of his back. After checking his pulse and finding nothing, you roll him over. You find the hilt of his knife sticking out of his chest and your breath catches in your throat. He must’ve landed on it when he tripped. You slump against the wall and try to catch your breath, staring at Johnny’s limp body and waiting for him to lunge at you.

He never does. You look up to say thank you to Jungwoo, but you don’t get a chance. He looks right at his brother’s limp body and disappears, leaving you alone in the room.

You sleep as much as you can, hoping that Jungwoo will pop up in your dreams again. You cry when you sleep and you cry when you wake, until you get to the point where your eyes burn and your face swells and you can’t physically cry anymore. You cry until you’re exhausted and yet you can’t sleep, can only frustratingly toss and turn and scream silently through your raw throat, praying to a god that you don’t believe in to let you see Jungwoo, just one more time. That’s all you need. Just one more time to say goodbye.

Promises are mumbled into your pillow and chanted in your mind but there’s only so much you can do to keep them. You swear to never forget Jungwoo but the words are meaningless and do nothing to stop his face from fading. Slowly, his features become less clear in your mind, his laugh blending with countless others until you can’t differentiate them. You get him a proper grave in a cemetery, and you go from visiting his grave every day to going every few days, until weeks pass before you remember you wanted to leave flowers for him. The flowers last even less than your promises, wilting and rotting on the stone, becoming a sadly unrecognizable mess. You do your best to clean it, and you cry so hard the first time you see the mess that you almost black out, but it’s now a sight that doesn’t even phase you.

Time doesn’t stop to wait for you. It’s not long before you finish grad school and get a job offer in a city 1500 miles away, much different from this one. Your sister drives down to help you pack, easily helping you throw things that you need into a suitcase and counteracting your hoarding tendencies. Something catches your eye just as you’re leaving and you pick it up, frowning at the little resin flower.

“What’s that?” your sister asks, leaning in over your shoulder. “Is that a dahlia?”

“I don’t know.” you furrow your eyebrows, trying to place why it seems so familiar, before shrugging. It makes a hollow sound when you toss it into the trash that seems to echo much too loud for such a tiny object.

She heaves your suitcase into your arms. “Ready?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

You don’t look back.

#jungwoo fic #nct fic #jungwoo smut #nct smut #nct angst #kim jungwoo angst #nct 127 angst #nct 127 smut #jungwoo angst #nct 127 fic #kpop smut #kpop fic #kpop angst #nct: almost

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mcyt-amber-tftsmp · 3 years

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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐛 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭

A— Abnormal (what makes them different?)

What makes Ranbob different from you is that fact that you are human while he is not. He is a literal semi-half enderman while he he is also a semi-half unknown hybrid. He finds himself pretty dangerous to you since he thinks that one day he will harm you in some way and it's just gonna make him fill up with so much guilt.

B— Bad Habits (what bad habits do they have?)

Ranbob has a bad habit of scratching his arms which results in many new scars and sometimes he would actually scratch so much that it will start bleeding. This would actually worry you a lot about him thinking why he does it but you do know it pains him a lot and would help him patch it up.

C— Crying (what makes them cry?)

The only thing that makes Ranbob cry is when he has nightmares about you dying in different ways which could either be by his own hands or by something or someone else. This does cause him to wake up with a jolt and there was a time when he accidentally woke you up by jolting too much from a nightmare and this made you worried and comforted him.

D— Death (How do they die? With family or alone? How does their partner find out?)

Ranbob's death was basically a cause of his enderwalk state which he couldn't control and he was slightly out of control but one side of him was fighting to escape it and the only way was to kill himself off which you didn't want but you had to let it happen. It would be a pretty selfish act for him considering he will be leaving you but the one thing he will know is that you are safe and that's what matters the most but you wouldn't even leave his dead body and just continue crying in place.

E— Emotion (what's the emotion they tend to push away the most?)

Ranbob tends to push away his fears the most. He doesn't want you to worry and there are times when he would let fear come back to him and he hates showing it a lot in front of you but you keep telling him not to considering we all fear something but Ranbob has his reasons.

F— Frustrated (how much would it take to push them off the edge?)

If you annoy Ranbob when he's not having a good day to the point he breaks, he will lash out completely and would attack without thinking and when he sees you hurt his anger will wash away and get replaced with fear and regret and would apologize so many times that he would just start crying.

G— Gullible (who are they most gullible to and why?)

Himself. Ranbob has changed for the better because of you and he thinks he can just let go off his past mistakes and move on. But that's where he is wrong considering he has voices sometimes saying negative things and reminding him off his past wrong doings. He knows he did those things and he has no excuse for it. He hates himself for this.

H— Humiliation (someone says something humiliating about them)

"Freak!"

He basically knew that it was directed at him but he looked like he didn't care on the outside but on the inside he was slightly hurt. He doesn't show it. You on the other hand who was with him and heard someone yell this out to him were not having it and gave out a snarky reply to the man that legit shut him up. Ranbob's happy that you stood up for him but deep down he's still hurt and you can tell he is behind that indifferent expression.

I— Insecure (what are their insecurities?)

How he looks. Honestly he looks like he doesn't care but his insecurities have a way of crawling back to him about how he looks. I mean he is slightly scary at first which he isn't a fan of but he's actually a nice guy once you get to know him but it's still a thing for him which he can't let go at all.

J— Jealous (what makes them feel jealous?)

When someone flirts with you. He will literally glare down at the person by holding your waist and standing behind you while he looks at the person flirting dead in the eye and he is like a few seconds away from killing them too if they don't hurry up and run.

K— Knife (how do they feel about hurting others?)

Ranbob used to hurt whoever came to Mizu cause he did kill a lot of people who previously came before you did. Now he just doesn't like it but there are times when he looks at a sword he gets weird hallucinations of it being slightly covered in blood and it will really throw him off and make him drop it before picking it up later on.

L— Love (who was their first love? Was it returned? How did it end?)

Well his first and last love would be you and yes it was returned and you guys are still in a relationship with each other. Ranbob loves you dearly but fears he will hurt you. You love him a lot more than he knows.

M— Mindfulness (what calms them down when they're feeling anxious or depressed?)

When Ranbob holds onto you or when you hug him, all his anxiousness goes away and it also helps him come from his depressive episodes. Usually it would sometimes be the other way but it also come in this way too.

N— Nightmare (do they have them? How often? What's their reaction, and what are they about?)

Ranbob has nightmares most of the time but not all the time and they would mostly be about you either leaving him or dying in his hands or some other way and he always jolts awake with small tears forming in his eyes and would look around to see that you are safe and not harmed and that's what calms him down but he is slightly scared to fall asleep again but he does anyways with zero nightmares.

O— Obsess (what they're obsessed with that you might judge them for? What's their "weird" obsession?)

The fact that Ranbob legitimately looks up to Dream and that Dream is his idol he just thinks that the way he worships him may weird you out but you don't find it weird at all but he just thinks otherwise without your knowledge. I wouldn't say he's obsessed but it looks like it in front of other people.

P—Pressure (what stresses them out to the breaking point?)

Blood happens to stress him out to his breaking point cause it always reminds him of how he killed people with no mercy and it just makes him lose it sometimes that he would break down at times with his negative voices throwing in things altogether.

Q— Quirks (what's one of their quirks they consider a flaw that you like?)

Sometimes Ranbob feels like having heterochromia is a flaw considering not many people have them and the fact that's it's pretty uncommon but you seem to love them and would always find them pretty which would make Ranbob smile knowing you love them and he tries to like them too.

R— Repressed (what memories do they repress or they wish they could forget?)

Ranbob wants to forget his wrong doings from the past where he killed off the many people that came down here but it just seems to come crawling back to him and he hates it and just wants it gone for good.

S— Sorrow (would they feel empty after the death of a loved one?)

Ranbob would completely shut down after he sees you die in front of him. He would just cry for hours and would blame himself for not being able to help your nor protect you at all and the guilt happens to increase and eats him up bad.

T— Time (what if they had a limited time to live?)

Ranbob would make the most out of it by being with you. He would do anything in his power to do the things you love and go on out for walks and other things you both love doing together. He would hate to leave you alone when his time is up and you would just be felling empty without him.

U— Umbrage (what pisses them off? What offends them?)

What pisses him off the most is when people flirt with you cause it makes him jealous and would be on the verge of killing them. At this point nothing offends him but if someone says something offensive about him, he won't hesitate to bring out that netherite sword and scare the person off.

V— Vent (how do they let things out after a bad day?)

When it comes to venting out things after a bad day, Ranbob would stay away from you as far as possible so he doesn't hurt you at all considering the way he lets out his anger is by punching things like the wall or sometimes throwing something which won't break. It does scare you a bit but you would cautiously come up to him and hug him to make him calm down which works well.

W— Weakness (what is their personal weakness?)

Ranbob's weakness would be you but not in a bad way or anything. If something were to happen to you, he would become pretty vulnerable. He would do anything in his power to protect you even if it meant sacrificing himself in order to do that.

X— X-Double-Minus (random sad headcanon)

One time, Ranbob was venting out his anger like a lot like he usually does but this time it was a bit too much. You on the other hand tried to calm him down but he was slightly blinded with anger that he accidentally pushed you away by clawing your cheek made you fall backwards on the floor slightly hard but not so much. Ranbob's anger immediately washed away once he saw what he did and all that got replaced with fear, regret and guilt which cause him to apologize so many times and a panic attack. You came up to him and hugged him to calm him down and tell him that it's alright and that you know he never meant it which slightly helps.

Y— Yearn (what is one thing they want that they know they can't have?)

The one thing Ranbob wants is to reverse time and fix his mistakes but he knows that it's impossible and he has to live with the amount of guilt and regret he has with him. But he knows he has you that will help him along the way.

Z— Zoophobia (is there any animal/bug/creature that scares them?)

Ranbob is legitimately an enderman hybrid and what bugs do endermen despise or gets scared off? The answer is endermites. He's not a huge fan of them in general and is kind of glad that they don't exist anywhere near him cause if it did he would lose it.

#ranbob #ranbob x reader #ranbob x y/n #ranbob x you #tales from the smp #alphabets #angst #angst alphabet #mcyt #dream smp #lost city of mizu

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enigmalynne · 3 years

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Of Nightmares and Sandalwood - Dean x Reader Fic

Title – Of Nightmares and Sandalwood Pairings – Y/N & Dean Word Count – 3,928 Warnings – Do Nightmares count? Cursing, arguing SPNMixedBingo Square filled – Early Morning, Touch Starvation, Bed Sharing Prompt: “I don’t sleep. My mind has the scary capability of being dark and demented.” “you are afraid of your dreams?” “Yes,” he said quietly.

She doesn’t know what wakes her up, only that something was off, and she couldn’t sleep until she fixed whatever it was. Rolling over and looking at the clock, Y/N realized that it was just before three in the morning.

With a sleepy groan, Y/N climbed out of her warm bed. She reached for a flannel (undoubtedly stolen from one of the brothers, she’s certain) to pull over her tank top and shorts. She slipped on her flip-flops before wandering out of her room to see what was out of the ordinary.

The kitchen was dark, the dishes sitting in the drying rack, so it wasn’t that. Sam’s bedroom door was closed, and she could hear his gentle snores behind it, so she knew it wasn’t him. The bathroom light was off and the door was open, so no one was there.

Dean’s bedroom door, however, was open. Curiously, Y/N walked toward his room and looked inside to find his bed unmade and empty. Frowning, she walked down the hall to the library in search of the older Winchester. The expansive room designated as the ‘Dean Cave’ was dark and empty, as was the library. It wasn’t until she heard familiar music coming from the garage that she got the idea to check there.

Opening the door quietly, she spotted him. He was standing barefooted in the garage with the hood of Baby up, dressed in dirty jeans and a black t-shirt that fit snugly over his chest and shoulders. His expression held a world of unspeakable pain that he couldn’t seem to hide as he focused on some invisible problem with the classic car, his mind a million miles away.

Y/N frowned as she stared thoughtfully at him, knowing something wasn’t right.

Gently closing the door behind her, she walked up to the cooler Dean had a beer sweating on. She picked up the bottle and took a long pull from it, switching off the music with her other hand. The entire garage instantly plunged into silence, causing Dean to startle. He turned on her quickly, pulling his loaded gun from the small of his back and pointing it at her chest in less than a second. His fierce eyes narrowed, a controlled fury there she hadn’t seen in over a decade.

She swallowed the hoppy beer, carefully set the bottle back down, and gently leaned against one of the older cars that were parked in the garage.

“Morning, stranger,” she muttered, a tired frown on her face. Dean grunted at her as he pulled the loaded gun away from her direction, uncocking it and carefully putting it back where it came from.

“Dammit, Y/N. I could have killed you,” he muttered gloomily. Y/N simply raised a brow at him. “And quit drinking my beer!”

“Why are you armed inside the bunker? You know it’s safe here, Dee,” she answered instead. Dean intentionally threw her a dirty look before leaning against the car again, looking down into the engine block. He willfully refused to properly answer her. She tried again.

“Hey, what’s going on?” she asked gently. Dean tried to ignore her once again. Y/N frowned at him. She looked at the Impala, remaining quiet for a few minutes. Dean didn’t move. After a while, Y/N started to shiver, so she pulled the flannel she had on around herself tighter.

“It’s really late. Or early, depending on how you look at it. Why are you awake right now?” she asked. Dean snapped and slapped the side of the car, causing a loud sound to echo in the garage and Y/N to jump.

“What’s with the twenty questions, Y/N? Can’t you tell I want to be left alone? Can’t you get the hint?” Dean shouted furiously at her. Y/N looked down and away, away from his angry face. She felt her emotions start to overwhelm her again, but she swallowed down her frustration. She refused to be deterred. His deflection wasn’t going to work this time. She started picking at the sleeves of the flannel she wore

“No,” she said quietly.

“What?!” Dean snapped at her. Y/N carefully lifted her eyes and stared thoughtfully at Dean, her face not giving away her emotions.

“I said, no,” she repeated herself. “I can’t just go back inside and act like I don’t know that you are out here hurting. I want to give you your space and let you take out your frustration or whatever it is you are feeling on Baby, but I just can’t walk away this time.” She shrugged, looking away.

“Sorry,” she said distantly, as she diligently studied the car she was leaning on. Dean stared at her, his hands on his hips. He undoubtedly knew he was being cruel. But it was his typical reaction to lash out and push people away. After a long minute, he released a long, heavy sigh.

“I had a nightmare,” he said quietly. Y/N looked over at him silently, encouraging him to continue speaking. She watched as Dean walked over to the Impala and rested his hands on the end of the car, leaning over the engine block yet again.

“What was it about?” Y/N asked, her voice soft in the large room. Dean gently shook his head, staring down at the car once again. “Must have been pretty bad if it’s keeping you awake right now.”

“I’m fine, Y/N,” Dean growled impatiently. Y/N bit her tongue. Yeah, you look terrific. Instead, she just watched as he stared sightlessly at the engine again.

“Why don’t we go inside? I’ll make us something to eat, or maybe we can just grab a few drinks,” she politely suggested. Anything to get that icy cold look off his face. “We don’t even have to talk about the nightmare unless you want to.” Dean remained silent, but the twitch in his jaw showed her that the man heard her. After a few minutes of silence and Y/N sighed.

“Dean, come on. Work with me here,” Y/N started, standing up straight to face the older brother. That’s when Dean snapped again. He reached up and slammed the hood of the Impala, much rougher than he typically would. He turned toward her and growled.

“I’ve about had it with you, Y/N, and your feel-good bullshit. I just said I didn’t want to talk to you, and I don’t want to talk about it,” he shouted. Y/N wasn’t even sure what he was saying anymore, only that she was done with him and with his bullshit.

“Stop fucking yelling at me!” Y/N finally shouted back, causing Dean to shut his mouth with an audible click. “Jesus Christ, Dean. What the hell is your problem? Not everyone is your fucking enemy or is trying to hurt you. I’m not trying to fucking hurt you!”

Dean stared at her, his breathing harsh through his nose as he tried to control his temper and his raging emotions as he watched Y/N finally lose her temper with him.

“I woke up, and I didn’t know why. I was merely checking on you and Sam and noticed you were missing. I’m so sorry that my checking on you was such a fucking inconvenience to you, Dean!” she bellowed snidely. The two glared defiantly at each other for a long minute. Finally, Y/N held her hands up in a surrender motion.

“You know what,” she started, her voice low and monotone. “Forget I said anything. You want to stay out here and wallow in self-pity and whatever bullshit you got rolling around in that head of yours instead of talking to me about it, be my guest. I’m done.” Y/N turned on her heel and walked toward the door out of the garage and back into the main part of the bunker.

For reasons Dean didn’t understand, he instantly started to panic.

“Y/N,” he said cautiously to get her attention.

“Go fuck yourself,” she muttered fiercely, simply waving her hand at him. She swung open the door, moments away from crossing the threshold. His panic grew, and he intuitively knew if he didn’t get her attention back now, he would be doing irrevocable damage to their relationship.

“Y/N!!”

That stopped her. Dean’s voice sounded agonized, hurt, and broken down. But at this point, so was Y/N. She turned back to look at him, one foot inside the pleasant warmth of the bunker and ready to forget this even happened.

“What?!” she snapped at him; her kind eyes narrowed and glassy.

“I don’t sleep,” Dean said. Y/N’s expression changed from one of hurt and anger to one of confusion.

“What?” she bit out, confusion coloring her tone this time.

“I don’t sleep. After my nightmares, I don’t sleep. My subconscious mind has the scary capability of being dark and demented,” he gently explained, his eyes anywhere but on her face. “Once it starts, I can’t seem to stop it, so it’s just safer to… not sleep.”

“You’re afraid of your dreams?” Y/N asked softly, her heartbreaking for him.

“Yeah. Sure,” he said quietly. His weight subtly shifted between his bare feet.

Y/N watched him for a long moment, then walked back into the garage. The door slammed shut behind her, but she ignored it. Dean noticed she was walking toward him and shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling incredibly vulnerable now. Once she was next to him, Y/N carefully wrapped her hand around his arm, slid it down his soft skin, and held onto his wrist. She gently rested her head against his shoulder as she pulled his left hand out of his pocket and intertwined their fingers together.

Dean turned his head to look cautiously at her, his mask sliding into place so she couldn’t read what he was thinking. She didn’t need to see his face to feel his trepidation, his worry, his comfort at her closeness, or his self-loathing for feeling he didn’t deserve it. Y/N lifted her Y/C/E to Dean’s green ones.

“Do you trust me?” she asked quietly.

“You know I do,” Dean answered just as softly. Y/N offered a tiny smile before gently pulling him with her toward the direction of the door inside.

“Come on,” she whispered, tilting her head toward the door. Y/N squeezed his hand, then took a step back, away from the Impala. “Come on, Dean.”

Dean watched her try to pull him away from the car, the garage, his sanctuary, with pain-filled eyes before he closed them and sighed brokenly. It was then he finally moved and let Y/N pull him toward the door back inside the bunker. She turned away from him to see where she was going, but once they were down the stairs, she turned and looked back at him. When she looked back at Dean, he had his eyes fixed on the ground.

Y/N stepped closer to him, still leading them through the bunker, carefully wrapping his arm around her waist. She felt more than heard his breath catch as his fingers brushed against the bare skin of her belly from where her tank top rode up a little. He naturally tried pulling away, but she wouldn’t let him. He genuinely needed comfort, and she wasn’t going to let him deny himself that. Once they were in front of his room, she turned to look at him.

“I’m going to run to my room for a moment to grab some things. Be in bed by the time I get back,” she explained softly to him. Dean shook his head and instantly started to protest, which caused Y/N to hold up a dainty finger to his lips. His eyes opened fractionally at her soft touch.

“I wasn’t asking,” she said knowingly. She stared resolutely into Dean’s eyes until she saw when he relented, then nodded her head. She squeezed his hand before she turned and walked across the hall and down a few doors to where her room was. Once inside, she moved quickly. She grabbed her sandalwood and vanilla lotion, tucked her pillow under her arm, and turned off her diffuser. She emptied the water and oils she had in the machine already, wiping it out with a microfiber cloth.

Opening the small wooden case of oils, she chose a few scents she thought Dean would find calming: Sandalwood, Cinnamon, and Caramel. She put drops of the oils in the diffuser and grabbed a bottle of water to fill it with once she got back into Dean’s room. She grabbed her sound machine then left her room, using her elbow to flip off her light.

Walking into Dean’s room, she was pleased to see he had done what she had asked. He was lying on his back. His thick blanket was pulled to his waist, and he was staring wistfully at the ceiling. The room was dim and cool, the only light coming from a lamp on his nightstand. Y/N walked over to the bed and dropped the pillow from under her arm onto his bed. Dean turned his head to watch her.

Without saying a word, she went over to where his desk was and set all her items down. The first thing she did was plug in the diffuser. She set the machine on his desk, removed the lid, and opened the bottle of water in her hand. Filling the basin to the top of the waterline, she put the lid back on it. She then set it to run steadily throughout the next 8 hours. Sealing the water bottle once again, she moved to her next task.

She then turned her noise machine on to the sound of white noise. Typically, she’d fall asleep to the sound of ocean waves or rainfall, but this was for Dean. White noise was the easiest thing to choose. She set the volume to low: loud enough to be heard over the noise of the diffuser but quiet enough to be in the background and not keep them awake. She picked up her lotion and turned to face Dean.

“Take your shirt off and turn over on your belly,” she said softly, walking over to the bed. Dean stared at her for a long moment, wanting to argue. “Just trust me, Dean.”

With a huff, he sat up and pulled his t-shirt over his head. He tossed it aside and rolled over onto his belly, and settled down on his bed. Y/N grabbed her pillow and put it up next to Dean, so she had something to lay on, pulled off her flannel and tossed it over the chair, climbed up onto the bed, and straddled his hips. She felt Dean stiffen as her body touched his, and she instantly hushed him.

“It’s okay, Dean. Close your eyes and take deep breaths,” Y/N quietly said. Dean heard a soft ‘click’ of the lotion bottle opening, then silence. Slowly, Dean willingly let his eyes drift shut. He inhaled slowly, and the spicy scent that filled his senses started calming him almost instantly. When he exhaled, he felt Y/N’s soft hands run over his tense shoulders.

“That’s it,” he heard her say, her voice almost melodic. “Take some deep breaths. Inhale slowly, exhale just as slow. Let the sandalwood and cinnamon fill your senses, calm your mind, ease your spirits.”

Her hands started out gentle as they ran over his shoulders and up to his neck, slowly growing in pressure. Her hands would find a knot in his muscles and spend some extra time there, focusing on the spot and adding some careful pressure there to ease the tension. The entire time he continued his deep breaths, focusing on keeping them even and steady.

“I want you to think about something good, something that brings you joy,” Y/N said as her hands ran up and down his spine. “Think about a moment when you remember being completely at ease and relaxed. Who was there with you, where you were, what you were doing…”

Dean immediately thought of the evening a few nights ago, when the three of them were sitting around the library just hanging out and chatting. They were sharing a bottle of whiskey they found created by Metallica. When Dean found out about it, he was so excited he bought four bottles. They opened one immediately when they got home and just sat around the table and talked about music while passing the bottle around. He found out just how much music they all actually had in common that same night.

“Now take a deep breath, nice and slow…”

He inhaled, and the scent of vanilla filled his nose with the spicy scent of wood and cinnamon. He felt pressure on the base of his skull now, easing tension he didn’t even know he had there. He took a deep breath and released a soft moan of pleasure as he exhaled, turning his head so that Y/N had easy access to his neck and skull.

“Just breathe easy and let the tension go… Focus on the good and release the tension in your body…”

Her warm hands felt so good sliding across his skin, putting pressure on different parts of his body that were sore. He was feeling peaceful with the warmth of her body close to his, and he felt himself drifting…

“Take a deep breath, Dean. In through your nose and release slowly out through your mouth,” he heard her soft voice say next to his ear. He inhaled slowly, and when he exhaled, he felt her warm hands put solid pressure on the muscles next to his spine, moving slowly upward. He felt the vertebra give, popping deeply and releasing tension as her hands moved their way from his lower back upward to his shoulders. It pulled a deep moan from him as his muscles gave a slight twitch before relaxing under her touch. Once she had finished the pressure trail up to his neck, she ran her hands gently up and down his spine.

“There you go,” he heard her soft voice mumble gently to him. “Just breathe deeply, in through your nose and out through your mouth. Let the scent of sandalwood and vanilla calm you. Clear your mind of any thoughts and rest.”

Dean felt the pressure again, but this time against his neck and skull. Y/N pressed her thumbs at the base of his skull, pushing down against the soft spot at the center and brushing outward to where the occipital nerve rests on each side. At first, he tensed up again, but remembering what she said about breathing, he forced himself to relax and continue the deep breathing. Soon, the soft touches grew deeper and harder, gently pressing the tension away.

With everything that was happening all at once, he caught himself slowly growing tired, and sleep danced on the edges of his consciousness. He fought the urge to slip away until he heard Y/N start humming above him. Just as he floated off to sleep, he realized she was humming Hey Jude.

When Y/N realized that he was asleep, she intentionally slowed her hands against his skin until she stopped moving altogether. Moving as slow as she possibly could, she gracefully slid off Dean’s body and reached over to turn off the light. The room instantly dropped into complete darkness, and Y/N used her hands to guide her to the opposite side of Dean’s bed. With careful movements, she slid under the covers and curled up next to Dean.

She ran her fingers through his short hair, running her fingers down his back to where the sheet and blanket rested at his waist. Using careful and slow movements, she gently pulled them up over them both. Once they were properly covered, she leaned over and tenderly kissed Dean on the temple.

“Good night, Dee,” she whispered almost silently into his ear before snuggling up against him. With a deep sigh, Y/N felt herself relax off to sleep herself.

The next time he became aware of his surroundings, he felt a pleasant warmth pressed up against him. It was in his arms. He took a deep breath, and the spicy scent that calmed him the night before was still lingering nearby. He realized, quite suddenly, that he had slept soundly the rest of the night after a horrific nightmare.

He slowly opened his eyes, looking down to find Y/N wrapped in his arms. Her head rested peacefully on her pillow, her back pressed against his chest, his arm wrapped around her waist. Dean stared at her, uncertain what to think.

“Stop thinking so hard, it’s still too early,” Y/N muttered, her voice rough with sleep. She snuggled down into her pillow, her body pressing closer against Dean’s.

“I slept through the night last night,” he said softly. Y/N smiled; eyes still closed.

“Yes, you did,” she said.

“I haven’t slept through the night after a nightmare. Ever,” Dean said thoughtfully. “How did you do that?”

“Hmmm?” Y/N hummed sleepily, rolling over and gently pushing at Dean. He promptly turned onto his back and let Y/N curl up on his chest; her hand curled up next to her face, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder. Dean wrapped his arm around her, running his fingers up and down her arm. Y/N smiled gently at his touch.

“I said, how did you get me to sleep through the night after a nightmare?” he asked softly, tilting his head toward hers. Y/N pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Is the diffuser still running?” she questioned. When Dean didn’t respond, she repeated herself. Dean lifted his head and looked around his room until his eyes fell on a small machine shooting a mist into the air on his desk. When he asked if that was it, he confirmed it was still going.

“Then it’s not time to get up yet. Go back to sleep, I’ll explain it later,” Y/N said. Dean looked down at the woman in his arms and let a smile play on his lips. He carefully brushed a kiss on her forehead then snuggled down under the blankets and closed his eyes.

Maybe he should have nightmares more often if it meant he got to wake up with Y/N in his arms, asleep in his bed. Maybe he could have this after all, and it would be okay. Maybe there was something more here than he originally thought. Maybe… Dean felt a hand against his cheek, causing his eyes to open, then slip shut as he felt Y/N’s soft lips press against his in a tender kiss.

Their mouths moved against each other gently, cautiously feeling each other’s lips against each other sweetly. Just as Dean was about to deepen the chaste kiss, Y/N pulled away and slowly opened her eyes to stare at him.

“You’re thinking too much. Go back to sleep,” she whispered, gently brushing a delicate fingertip over his mouth. “I’ll answer all of your questions in a few hours. Then maybe we can try this again.”

Dean watched as Y/N shot him a sleepy grin, then settled back down against him. He blinked once, then twice, then broke into a huge smile. Tightening his arms around the extraordinary woman in his bed, he buried himself into her and the delicious warmth of her skin. There was a promise of something exciting and new waiting for him after they woke up once again.

If all his nightmares had this kind of outcome, he’d take all the night terrors he could get.

Taglist:

Supernatural:

@akshi8278 @vicmc624 @agirlwithdemonblood @flamencodiva @hobby27 @mimaria420 @compresshischest09 @kkrivers @deanwanddamons @LovelyRocker @mrsstevenbuchananstark

Jensen/Dean Taglist

@deandreamernp @siospins @sacriceria @sexyvixen7 @lanea-1 @nancymcl

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nalledimessi · 4 years

Text

Scary movies & nightmares

Pairing: Elijah & reader.

Word count: 1729 words.

Warnings: Mention of nudity but nothing descriptive.

Drabble topic: scary movies & nightmares.

Author’s notes: It was very difficult to decide which pairing to use. I get carry away with this drabble and I write around 1,500 words, I don’t know if this qualify as a drabble anymore but anyway. Possible because I get identified with this topics. I hope you enjoy it. I love all your likes and comments. Thank you. Hope you like it. I don't own the gif. Credit to his owner.

-Can we see other type of movies?- you ask them.

-Come on [Y/N] it’s Halloween, what other movies we could watch if isn’t a scary movies?- Caroline shout to you -Don’t tell me you’re scare?-

-You know why, I tent to have nightmares when I see scary movies and you would ask the same if you wouldn’t have Stefan at night to hug him if you have a nightmare, while mine it’s in New Orleans because Klaus need him there- you clarified to her.

-You could come to my bedroom at night if you have a nightmare- Damon said cocky at you.

-Only if you have a death wish- Elena and you said at the same time for different reasons making everyone laugh.

-I was just been polite- he answer pulling Elena to his lap -You know I love you and [Y/N]- looking in your direction -you know you are like my little sister-

-I know Damon- giving him an smile.

-Let’s start our movie night!- Caroline shout while turning the light off, start the movie and sit next to Stefan.

You sight and look away the screen, Elena still on Damon lap, Caroline resting his head on Stefan shoulder and you with just a bowl of popcorns in your lap, you took your phone out and open the text message.

-I wish you were here. I have run out of excuses to avoid the scary movies night- you send to Elijah.

-It was inevitable at certain point, sweetheart. I yearn for you and can’t wait to be back- he respond after a few seconds.

You hear a throat been clear and lift your side just to watch Caroline gaze set on you direction.

-Call you later, Caroline it’s about to take my phone away from me. Love you.- you explain.

-I look forward to hear from you. Love you sweetheart.- he confirm.

You put away your phone and set your attention back to the movie watching the scene develop in front of your eyes. The football player was about to enter the abandoned house trying to find shelter of the heavy rain outside, where the zombie was waiting to attack him.

-Don’t go inside- you whisper.

He open the door and walk inside unaware, he was about to take out his wet jacket when the zombie came out of the shadow and bite him on the neck.

You startle when this happen, making you jump in your seat while all the popcorns fly from the bowl to the floor.

-Are you alright, [Y/N]?- Stefan ask you concern.

-Yeah I’m fine, I will get more popcorns- you said while standing from the armchair you were and going to the kitchen, you took a package of popcorns and set it on the microwaved, you sited on the bench.

-Hey- you hear Stefan -are you sure you are fine?-

You nod -Just tired that’s all, I haven’t sleep well-

-Nightmares?- he sit next to you.

-No, if I get exhausted enough before going to bed I don’t have them- you confess to him.

-You know, what Damon said it’s true, you’re like our little sister and you can count with us for everything- he declared to you.

-Thank you Stefan, I considered both of you my brothers- you smiled to him.

-Go home and rest, I will deal with Caroline- he grin to you.

-Are you sure?- you voice out.

-Yeah, just call when you arrived home and if you need anything- he request.

-Alright- you agree, you kiss his cheek -love you bro-

-Love you too lil sis- he said watching you take your keys and jacket -Damon said what about him?-

-Love you too big bro- you utter to him -See both of you tomorrow- you said before going out of Caroline’s.

Once you where on your car you start the engine with direction to your house, when your phone start to ring, Elijah name on the screen, you answer on the Bluetooth.

-Hey muffin- you answer cheerfully.

-Hello sweetheart, do you have time for me?- he ask polite.

-Yeah, I’m on my way to home.- you answer.

-Are you feeling alright? Anything I need to know?- he ask concern.

-I’m fine just tired, Stefan and Damon help me bail out of it- you clarified to him.

-I sincerely apologized for not been there to keep your nightmares away- he said sadly.

-It’s alright muffin, your family need you and I know you won’t forgive yourself if you didn’t go- you express.

-I truly don’t know what I did to deserve you- he confess.

-You’re a good man and a good brother Elijah, don’t forget of that. We all have our demons, even me- you remember him.

-You’re an angel, my love.- he assure you.

-You mean a devil disguised of angel- you chuckle at the phrases.

-Just when it comes related to the bedroom- he teased.

-I didn’t hear you complain about it- you giggle at the thought of that night.

He growl at you -You’re making me to difficult to be apart from you right now-

-You know where you can find me- you suggest to him in a seductive voice.

He sight -I know. I will see you soon. I love you- he said, longing in his voice before ending the call.

You try to call him again but went directly to voicemail, by that time you were already outside your home, you get inside and make sure everything was closed before call Stefan on your way to the bedroom you share with Elijah.

-Hey I’m at home- you mention to him as soon he answer the phone.

-Good, get some rest. See you tomorrow at the boarding house- he remind you.

-See you tomorrow. Good night- you said before ending the call and then fall to your bed. You try to call Elijah one more time but still went to voicemail, you sight and get ready for bed.

You have just enter the boarding house but you couldn’t see anyone.

-Damon? Stefan?- you call them at the door -this isn’t funny, where are you?- you shout while walking in to the living room, when you see them laying down in the floor cover in blood.

-Damon!- you shout crying and bend on his side -Oh my god- you exclaim once you see the werewolf bite on his shoulder. Then you turn your head to Stefan -please wake up! Please Stefan wake up!-

Then a few inches away you could see Klaus kneel down next to Elijah, his head on his lap. -I’m sorry brother, don’t leave me, I’m sorry-

-Klaus- you call him walking slowly to him -what happen?- you ask him almost whispering, concentrating in Klaus and not in Elijah.

-He and the Salvatore brother’s try to stop me but I was out of control- he look away from his brother body to you -I bite them and then attack Elijah until I…- he was not able to finish -I’m sorry [Y/N], I didn’t…- was the last he said before vamp speed out of the Boarding house.

The tears blind your sight of Elijah laying next to you but you could hear him

-Don’t cry my love. Listen to my voice, I need you to wake up. Open your eyes- you hear his calm voice and then you feel his hand caressing your cheek -please my love, open your eyes-

You sat up when you woke up agitated, sweat on your forehead and in your shirt.

-Breathe- Elijah remind you taking his hand to your back -deep and slow-

After a few breaths you calm down and set your gaze on him, you raise a hand to his cheek -You’re here- you call him softly.

-I’m- he smile -drink some water, I will draw a bath and while you refresh I will change the covers- he give you a glass before kissing your forehead and walk to the bathroom.

You drink slowly the water, you could hear the water running after a few minutes stops and watch Elijah coming out, he remove his suit jacket leaving it on the desk chair on the room to then roll his sleeves until his elbow and walk to you.

-How are you keeping?- he extend your hand to guide you.

-I’m better now- you answer him once you where on the bathroom.

-I’m glad- he stand in front of you and place his hands at the end of your oversized t-shirt -may I?- you nod, allowing him to remove not only your t-shirt but all your clothes, he give you again his hand and help you into the bath -Take your time my love, I will be back in a few minutes-

True to his word he return a few minutes after, bringing some clothes for you, an oversized green shirt, small shorts and leave it to the side. He lean on the doorway now dress in a black t-shirt and sweatpants. -Would you like to talk about your nightmare?- you denied with your head he nod at your answer and turn to leave the room.

-Stay with me- you declared.

-I would do something better- he communicate before taking off his t-shirt and sweatpants to get inside the bath behind you. -Better?- he ask caressing your arm up and down.

You closed your eyes and rest your head on his chest -Everything is better with you here- you confirmed.

You stay like this until the water start to get cold, he get out first wrapping a towel in his waist and then he held your bathrobe to wrapping you in it.

You place your hand in his heart -Damon, Stefan and yourself where laying on the floor lifeless-

He kiss your forehead and wrap his arms around your waist -Let’s get dress and go to bed-

You both dress at the bathroom and then lay on bed. Your head resting on Elijah’s arm.

-Don’t make it your burden Elijah, it’s just a nightmare- you implore to him.

He smile -You know me so well, but you need to rest. I will keep your nightmares away- he kiss you tenderly on the lips.

-You need to rest too- you kiss him again to then snuggle to him before drifting to sleep.

-Only with you by my side- he said before starting to create a dream for you.

#the originals #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson x female #halloween #drabbles #to #scary movies #nightmares #Caroline Forbes #Stefan Salvatore #Elena Gilbert #the vampire diaries #tvd #Damon Salvatore #elijah x reader #elijah mikaelson x human reader

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minettestan · 3 years

Note

Do you have a tag for games you recommend? I'm always looking for new games and my experience with point and click or 90s computer games is sorely lacking.

💕My favorite question💕 I took one of my old posts and updated it, so here!

💕 Personal Favorite

💀 Scary Content

👧 Female Protagonist

✨ Important to the genre’s history

📚 Tricky for new players, look up controls or a walkthrough to get started

❕ Difficult

👿 Potential insensitive content

The Colonel’s Bequest (1989) $5.99 💕✨👧💀❕📚

“It is the year 1925, and the roaring '20s are well underway. As Laura Bow, young college student, you've been invited to visit the Colonel's isolated estate. Watch as the Colonel announces his intention to bequeath his millions to all present!”

The classic Sierra murder mystery game, developed by the mother of the genre Roberta Williams. Laura Bow is a sorely overlooked female protagonist. The game works by navigating Laura and typing in commands, kinda of tricky at first. Tons of game overs are a hallmark of a Sierra adventure game so save often! If you play the GOG.com version you get the benefit of autosaves. This game runs a timer, the events of the night will unfold with or without you so stay on your toes and keep moving! The game can be found for free here, but imo the $5.99 is worth it for the easy of access.

The Dagger of Amon-Ra (1992) $5.99 👧✨❕📚👿💀

“Laura Bow, intrepid heroine of The Colonel's Bequest, is back! This time she's trapped in a huge, imposing museum in the dead of night, surrounded by socialites, miscreants, thieves...and a cold, relentless murderer.“

Roberta Williams is back! Iconic game, iconic heroine. It’s still a Sierra game so like TCB there are tons of (iconic) game overs, so save often. Solving puzzles in this one gives me a great serotonin rush. Unfortunately, this game has some racism issues, particularly with the characters Lo Fat and Ramses. While an important game in the genre take it with a huge grain of salt and maybe turn of the (kind of awful) voice acting and enable text-only mode and you’ll avoid some awful accents.

Sam & Max: Hit the Road (1993) $5.99 💕✨

“Sam (a canine shamus) and Max (a hyperkinetic rabbity thing) are hot on the trail of a runaway carnival bigfoot across America’s quirky underbelly in this deranged animated adventure!“

Sam & Max are truly my favorite characters in all of fiction. I have the box art to this game as my phone case. I have Sam & Max action figures, a plush Max on my bed, a print edition of Sam & Max Freeland Police Special #1 framed on my wall. From comics, to games, to cartoons I love these guys. Sam & Max: Hit the Road is a classic of the Lucasarts adventure games. That being said, it’s the least user-friendly of the Sam & Max adventure games and the slowest. I still love it to bits and it’s important to the genre’s history imo.

Gabriel Knight: Sins of the Fathers (1993) $5.99 💕💀👿

“The adventure of Gabriel Knight starts with gathering materials for his new book, and ends up becoming a fight for his very soul. He must now face countless dangers in New Orleans, Africa and Germany, each bringing him ever closer to unraveling the mystery behind suspicious voodoo murders. Haunted by nightmares, he won't give up until he reveals the truth. “

Another Sierra game directed by a woman, Jane Jenson. Gabriel Knight, voiced by Tim Curry, is one of my favorite adventure game protagonists of all time. This game is scary and gory so enter at your own risk! I love the gameplay in this one, I love the narrator, I love the puzzles. But it seems Sierra games have some problems with the representation of minorities. The game is set in New Orleans and focuses on a voodoo cult. Which means consequently the game's major antagonists are all black. Unlike the Dagger of Amon Ra, Sins of the Fathers actually employed black actors to play black characters. There’s a lot to be said about the ways in which white media demonizes voodoo and those who practice it. If you play this one, remain critical. And for the love of god, don’t play the 20th anniversary version.

Day of the Tentacle: Remastered (1993/2016) $14.99 ✨👧❕

“Originally released by LucasArts in 1993 as a sequel to Ron Gilbert’s ground breaking Maniac Mansion, Day of the Tentacle is a mind-bending, time travel, cartoon puzzle adventure game in which three unlikely friends work together to prevent an evil mutated purple tentacle from taking over the world!“

Another classic LucasArts game! This was the first game co-headed by Tim Schaffer who would go on to make the outstanding Grim Fandango! This one is exceedingly wacky and the remastered version has made it more user-friendly than ever.

Toonstruck (1996) $9.99 💕

“Drew Blanc is a cartoon animator and the original creator of the Fluffy Fluffy Bun Bun Show.. Drew's boss, Sam Schmaltz, sets him the task of designing more bunnies to co-star in the Fluffy Fluffy Bun Bun Show by the next morning. However, the depressed animator soon nods off, suffering from acute artist's block. He wakes early the next morning to inexplicably find his television switched on, announcing the Fluffy Fluffy Bun Bun Show. Suddenly, Drew is mysteriously drawn into the television screen and transported to an idyllic two-dimensional cartoon world populated by his own creations, among many other cartoon characters.“

If you’re a fan of Who Framed Roger Rabbit? you’ll love this. Christopher Lloyd is Drew Blanc (ha) trying to save a cartoon world through inventory item puzzles. Truly wacky, zany, and ani-mainy. I played Toontown as a kid so I’m predisposed to like this one. This is also the only game with Full Motion Video I’m putting on the list because FMV games can be an acquired taste.

Grim Fandango (1996/2015) $14.99 💕✨

“Something's rotten in the land of the dead, and you're being played for a sucker. Meet Manny Calavera, travel agent at the Department of Death. He sells luxury packages to souls on their four-year journey to eternal rest. But there's trouble in paradise. Help Manny untangle himself from a conspiracy that threatens his very salvation.“

Yesssssssss! I LOVE Grim Fandango! The iconic game directed by Tim Schaffer has received the best remaster I’ve seen a point n’ click receive. I cannot recommend Grim Fandango enough! Stick with it through the forest section, trust me.

The Last Express (1997) $5.99 ❕ 📚

“Paris, 1914. The world is on the brink of war and this train could push it over the edge. You are Robert Cath, a young American urgently summoned by your old friend Tyler Whitney to join him aboard the Paris-Constantinople express, departing from the Gare de l'Est on July 24th. Arriving late, you discover something has gone terribly wrong. Now you must untangle a complex web of political intrigue, suspense, romance, and betrayal. Every move you make could bring you closer to the truth or your own demise. Bon voyage! “

Ooooh I love a murder on a train! This game features rotoscope animation, which I love. Like The Colonel’s Bequest this game runs in real time, meaning the events of the game will unfold with or without you, depending on where you are at what time you’ll receive different information or see/miss different events. Very replayable with several different outcomes.

Sam & Max Save the World (Remastered) $19.99 💕

“ Sam is a six-foot canine detective with a love of justice. Max is a hyperkinetic rabbity-thing with a taste for mayhem. Together, they're the Freelance Police. And they're about to save the world.”

Sam & Max Save the World, originally released in episodes from 2006-2008 has been remastered and looks AMAZING! After LucasArts was shut down their game devs formed Tell Tale Games and produced three seasons of Sam & Max sequel games, all of which are great. But TellTale was shut down (and screwed over their employees) in 2018. Since then some of their devs have formed Skunkape Games and are currently remastering all of Tell Tale’s Sam & Max series (I’m thrilled). They’ve also adjusted some aspects of the game to make the game more inclusive and less **offensive. So imo it’s worth it to wait for the release of the other seasons to experience Sam & Max in pristine condition. Save the World is the only season out now, but you can get the non-remastered versions of Beyond Time and Space, and In The Devil’s Playhouse, here and here.

**I should note the “offensive” material in the original is not as egregious as say, The Dagger of Amon-Ra, but it’s just a nice change to see especially in a game I hold dear.

Emerald City Confidential (2009) $9.99 👧

“Explore the underbelly of Oz as Emerald City's most cunning detective! As Petra, you'll be lured deep into mysteries involving new foes and familiar faces; Scarecrow, Lion, and Toto included! This is Oz as you've never seen it before! Solve the mystery and unravel a conspiracy of magic and intrigue! Follow a case through five chapters full of puzzles, witnesses, suspects, and allies in this twist on a timeless classic! “

We’re moving out of the 1990s now. Emerald City Confidential is the Wizard of Oz meets film noir. I played this as 13 year old and have revisited it as an adult and I still eat it up. Wadjet Eye makes consistently good adventure games so check this one out!

The Blackwell Series (2006) $14.99 💕👧

“Meet Rosangela Blackwell, an embittered writer who just found out that she is a medium and that it’s her mission, whether she likes it or not, to assist tormented spirits and investigate other supernatural goings-on. She is assisted by the sardonic Joey Mallone, a ghost from the 1930s.”

Another Wadjet Eye game! I’ve seen these games recommended amoungst the Clue Crew before and I’ll just throw my own endorsement on the pile. Yeah I’m in love with Joey Mallone. What about it?

The Charnel House Trilogy (2015) $5.99 👧💀

“Witness The Charnel House Trilogy, the chronicle of one fateful night aboard a train bound for Augur Peak. Three thrilling, horrifying adventure games in one, from the depths of the Sepulchre.”

Plays like Blackwell, has a Blackwell reference at the beginning, okay you got me. This is a good, if kinda short, game. It’s very creepy, involves murder and has some gore/violence so watch out! I’m still waiting on the sequel Owl Cave!

Thimbleweed Park (2017) $19.99 👧

“A haunted hotel, an abandoned circus, a burnt-out pillow factory, a dead body pixelating under the bridge, toilets that run on vacuum tubes... you’ve never visited a place like this before.“

Made by Ron Gilbert and Gary Winnick the creators of the classic games Maniac Mansion and Monkey Island Thimbleweed Park is a love letter to the classics of the point and click adventure genre. Features 5 different playable characters, ala Maniac Mansion, who and how many you play is up to you! This one also has stand alone DLCs!

Unavowed (2018) $14.99 👧

“ A demon possessed you one year ago. Since that day, you unwillingly tore a trail of bloodshed through New York City. Your salvation comes in the form of the Unavowed – an ancient society dedicated to stopping evil.”

Okay I haven’t actually played this one, but I want to. Its a Wadjet Eye so you know it’s good. From the reviews I’ve seen this is the Blackwell Series meets Dragon Age. A point and click that incorporates RPG elements, I love that.

I also have a love of the more, strange, and unusual adventure games that I can't necessarily recommend with good conscience. So if you want bizarre 90s and early 2000s games of dubious quality hit me up.

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huearmy · 4 years

Text

The Smell of Truth - IV

Summary: After years being forced to fight in clandestine hybrid ring, Jungkook is now living in shelter, but life remains bad, the place is abusive, and nobody seems to want adopt him. Until one night a pro-hybrid activist group invades the shelter, and a woman in black smelling like truth promises that things will get better, and he decides to follow her wherever she goes.

Pairing: pitbull!Jungkook x human!Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, future smut maybe.

Words: 4781

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Some violent nightmares, nothing too bad.

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III - Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII

Jungkook was ready to fight.

After eating cake and tons of meat, taste coke for the first time and fall in love with it, you showed him another thing to love about his new life. Something exciting, entertaining and beautiful... He wasn't good at it at first, but seeing you doing it so well just motivated him to do better. Video games of course. All the sounds and colors made his eyes sparkle. The characters were so amazing too. You let him choose what game he wanted to try first, without much reference he didn't know where to start, using as a criterion the cover that most caught his attention and the little you said about each one. In the end he tested so many games that the order wasn't even important.

You noticed that he avoided violent themes, like fight games, and he preferred the sports, adventure, or cute-looking ones. You came to that conclusion when you decided to show one of your favorites, Dead By Daylight, and before you could start a match he wanted to change to Plant vs. Zombie. At some point you both stopped by Mario Kart and that was the thing. One hour later Jungkook was better than you, throwing all the bananas on you, like losing wasn't an option to him. The bastard is competitive.

"AAaaaaah! nonononon noooooo!" You lose the control of your kart just before finish line as he passes you, crossing the line and winning for the sixth time in a row.

"Yeah!" He jumped from his spot on the floor, running circles arond the couch and you, who was also on the floor.

"That's not fair, half of an hour ago you didn't even know how the controls work..."

"Let's play again!" He seated beside you again, and then his ears perked up. "Can I eat more cake?"

He already ate almost half of the cake, and was clearly in a sugar rush. "Of course. The cake is yours."

With a happy squick he ran to the kitchen, sliding the new pair of white socks over the apartment's wooden floor. As you waited for hi to come back you once again searched your games, looking for any more he might like, and came to the conclusion that you have a very violent taste to games - you are a fervent Outlast fan, for example. You have never dealt with a hybrid so full of trauma so directly, let alone inside your home, so involved in your life, and despite having some sense of Jungkook's past, you don't know everything that torments him or how much, so making him one hundred percent comfortable in this new life is your plan. What you need is to pay more attention to the small details. And maybe you can start by letting him choose some lighter games himself in the online store.

Jungkook emerged from the kitchen, now walking slower, balancing two plates of cake in one hand, and a huge glass of coke, full to the top, in the other, taking care not to make a mess. Carefully he sat next to you again.

"I brought cake for you too." He gave you one plate and got ready for another round.

"Oh, that's sweet of you. Thanks." You played for another hour or so, Jungkook's victories proving that it was not beginner's luck but that he is indeed a fast learner. You were already more asleep than awake, as a result of bad nights and unregulated sleep in the last week, when he got tired of running and decided to change the game. "What is this about?" Jungkook asked, showing you another one. "Ah, is a remake of one of my childhood favorites. It's about a bandicoot who lives on an island in the south pacific, and a magic mask that flies around him, and has a big-headed villain. It's pretty fun." You yawned. "Let's play this one then." He excitedly stated. "Sorry, Jungkook. I'm really tired, and even if I'll work from home, I need to get up early tomorow... I'm going to bed now." You saw the disappointment in his eyes, his ears and tail falling, and added. "But you can keep playing without me." Jungkook looked around, clearly not so happy as before. "Ok. I will play another one that is not your favorite then. See you tomorrow?" He was pouting again, and you thought to yourself if you're going to be able to get used to it. Despite being upset, you could see that he didn't want to have a tantrum asking you to stay. "You are so cute." You said before you could stop yourself, pulling him by the hands for a hug. You rested you head on his chest and reasurely passed your hands on his back. You couldn't see right now, but the brightest smile settled in Jungkook's face. "See you in the morning. Sleep well, JK." "Sleep well, Y/N." _____________________________________________________________________________________ You took a fast shower, put yourself in comfy pijamas and dropped your tired body in the bed. In less than five minutes you were fast asleep. You are the type that has a heavy sleep, that doesn't wake up with anything, and if it happens it is not fully awake, easily coming back into slumber. Normally a lightning storm would not be enough to get you out of dreamland, quite the opposite, the thick rain hitting the window glass has always been like a lullaby. But for some reason, by two in the morning your sleep-pumping eyes were open and alert. Something was off.

You sit, checking your surroundings, listening. Everything seemed ordinary. You got up, looking for your phone, trying to remember where you left it last. You found it lying on the floor beside the bed, between your slippers, some social media notifications and messages that you didn't see before stamping the screen.

Opening one of the messages, a smile formed at the corners of your mouth, as you rubbed your swollen eyes. Still half asleep you played the audio massage, a male voice sounding low. "Hey sweetheart, I'm coming back already. If my flight doesn't delay, I'll be home in the late afternoon... Then I will see you before anything else ok! I'm missing you so fucking much it feels like dying... So..." Before you could finish hearing the message something else caught your attention. You were silent trying to hear again. A soft sound from the floor below. A cry. It brought you from the brink of slumber, zombie mode of yours, to full alert awake mode.

"Jungkook" You went to the door and, knowing the way even in the dark, did not even bother to turn on the lights in the corridor, or the stairs, to run to the hybrid who now lives with you. The closer you got, the more certain you were that the crying came from Jungkook's room, a tightness in your chest leaving you worried at every step without knowing what was happening.

You entered as quietly as you could, stepping inside on the tip of your feet, the room was lighter than the corridor you came from, because of the headlamp on. Jungkook was lying in the shape of a ball, his back to you, wearing silk pajamas that you bought him earlier, the cover lying on the floor indicating he was having restless sleep. He was crying, but still asleep, clutching the pillow as hard as if his life depended on it, his body shivering, from cold or stress, or both, you couldn't say. Regardless, the nightmare he was having must have been horrible. Sitting next to him on the bed next to him, you put your hand on his shoulder, shaking him lightly.

"Jungkook, wake up." As if your touch had burned him, Jungkook's eyes snapped open, his body reacting defensively before you could do anything. In a second his hand was around your wrist, holding tightly at a sore angle, making you gasp in pain. For a moment it seemed that even looking directly at you, he didn't recognize you.

"Jungkook, it's me. Y/N. You were having a nightmare, but is everything ok. You are ok." You softly said, ignoring the pain in your wrist he was still holding, and reaching your other hand to his face, brushing the hair away from his sweaty forehead. "You are ok, Jungkook." "Y/N..." His lips quivered, small voice barelly reached your ears. Jungkook is a pile of muscles, much taller than you, bigger in every way, but at that moment, with scared eyes full of tears... you never thought he was so small. "It's, ok." You whispered, afraid that if you spoke a little louder it might scare him. "I don't know where you were, or what was happening... But now you are home, safe."

He blinked a couple times, looking around, recognizing his own new room, his things, the smell of the surroundings. His tense, ready to fight body, relaxed as his breathing was soothing. He finally noticed his tight hold hurting you, released you and more quickly he sat against the headboard, moving away from you and your touch. The boy's pale face acquired a feeling beyond fear... guilt.

"So- sorry..." He weakly apologized.

It is not the first time he has had this nightmare. It is always the same, sometimes with small differences, but in short it is a ring, metal screens closing all sides and the ceiling, with electric barriers and poles, that if he tries to escape or fall out by accident the injuries will be terrible, that if he doesn’t die by it. There’s a white light on him, as if it were a show and he was the star, but it’s a show of horrors, the fans screaming loudly, from the dark, asking for blood, dozens of men without face wanting someone to die in front of them. Jungkook experienced this so many times in real life, that in a dream it shouldn't be so scary, but here comes the worst part... He's losing, this time he's the one going to die today. While the other guy is sitting on top of him, giving blow after blow he can't defend himself, he looks back, looking for his owner. Jungkook's owner is sitting in a deck chair in the middle of the audience, watching the fight with his eyes without emotion, he is not happy, and Jungkook knows why: he has not been a good boy, he is no longer valuable, and doesn't bring tons of money anymore... So the owner won't help him, he won't find a way to stop the fight to save Jungkook, because it's not worth it. When Jungkook looks up again and faces his opponent it is his own face what he sees, like a mirror, violent and empty... He sees himself as the scariest hybrid in the world.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to... Y/N I'm sorry." He started to sob, bringing his knees close to his chest, turning into a ball again, to look smaller and not threatening.

Carefully you risked approaching him again, placing your hand on his knee in an attempt to make some comforting contact, without being too invasive.

"Shhhh... No need to apologize now." Seeing that he didn't withdraw from you again, you finally took his face in your cold little hands. "How are you feeling?"

"What?" A tear ran down his cheekbone, wetting your hand.

"I want to know if you are ok, JK." You smiled softly. He hurting you it's not ok, even if by accident, but that's a subject for another moment, now the focus is on him only. He sighed, closing his eyes and letting himself relax at your touch, feeling the soft tips of your fingers drying his tears. He took a deep breath once, twice, three times before nodding.

"I'm. I just need to go to bathroom."

"Ok." You let him get up, his well-built body looking so fragile as he walked out of the room, disappearing into the dark corridor. You got up yourself, to fix the bedding, get it ready for when he returned.

Jungkook washed his face several times, trying to get the bad impression he could still see when looking in the mirror. "When you're scared, laugh in the face of fear, he won't take you seriously and then he'll leave you alone." The child's voice rang in Jungkook's mind, making him give a weak little smile when he thought that this silly psychology has kept his sanity for years. He wiped his face with a soft towel, and then looking at himself in the mirror he made a funny face. And then another ... And one more. One funny face after another until he feels like smiling for real.

Your happy bathroom, with a nice scent of soap and cute plants, also helped a lot. The urge to cry went away much easier than at any time in Jungkook's old life.

Not really in the mood of trying to sleep again, he dragged himself back to the room, feeling the weight of the world on his legs, considering returning to playing video games and staying up all night... He saw you still on his bed, waiting for him, and stopped by the door, surprised.

"You still here..." You were zoning out, due to his delay in returning. His voice - now more peaceful - put a smile of relief in your distracted face.

"Do you want me to stay with you till you fall asleep again?" You suggested. Jungkook felt something in his chest, almost like a heartache, warm, when he heard that question.

"You don't need to..." He spoke before he could stop himself, regretting immediately, because it wasn't what he wanted to answer.

You left a warm laugh scape your lips.

"That's not what I asked, JK. Do you want me to stay?"

"Yes." You caring for him like this is like a dream to him, so, afraid of making a mistake that would make this moment end, he camly walked to you, lying on the spot you were invitingly tapping beside you, almost with his head on your lap. Almost... You covered him, taking care to wrap every inch of him with the blanket, to keep him warm, as you would do to a child, or at least, how you like to sleep when it's cold, like a comfy burrito. He felt loved. A few minutes went by, you patiently petting his hair. When you thought he would have fallen asleep, Jungkook opened his eyes to look at you thoughtfully.

"Y/N..." His voice was already sleepy.

"Hum?"

"Why aren't you afraid of me?" It's not like you're not expecting such conversation to happen sometime in the future, but at that moment the question took you by surprise.

"What do you mean, Jungkook?"

Jungkook had a hard time finding the right words. He didn't expect you to respond with another question, he wanted you to answer more objectively. A line of frustration formed between the boy's eyebrows as he thought hard on it. You just kept petting him, waiting for him to elaborate his thoughts. "I don't... know. Everybody does... I'm a pitbull and I was a fight dog... I've done so many bad and scary things, so everybody is afraid of me. The people that didn't want to adopt me, the employees of the shelter who beat me, even the doctor who saw me... She was so sweet to me, but she always saw me with a security guard in the room. Even my former owner was always armed when he came to talk to me..." He was frustrated and agitated when speaking. "He always told me that being a fighter is the only thing I good at... That I'm good at being violent. So why aren't you afraid?"

He could sense you getting dark feelings as he spoke. You were pissed, just thinking about what they did to his head made you want to punch someone. Making Jungkook think he deserves to be feared instead of being loved, pampered and adored every day of his life is unforgivable.

"First of all... Get ready because I'm going to give a speech here. Second: it is a protocol, standard procedure, to have support staff when treating new hybrids, especially when they have a history of abuse. It's not because the doctor was afraid of you, it's because she wanted to take good care of you." You paused for a breath, taking care not to be too harsh when speaking and it looked like you were scolding him, which was nowhere near your intention. You sighed and pulled a lock of hair out of his eyes. "Jungkook, you can't believe in any word your former owner told you. If he was always armed when he came to talk to you, it wasn't because he was afraid of you, it was because he wanted you to be afraid of him. He is very bad person. And he's in jail for all the evil he's done, for you and many other people ... And he's a liar. Nothing he has ever said or done to you can define your future or who you are. Can you believe me?"

"Yes." He said with a soft and vulnerable voice.

He was crying again, with a little smile forming in the corner of his mouth, but still crying. And your heart can't take it.

"And the reason I'm not afraid of you...?" You raised an eyebrow and looked deep into his eyes, as if you were going to tell an incredible secret. "I recognize a cinnamonroll when I see one."

At this, one laugh left Jungkook mouth, and you couln't think he is any cuter. "Seriously... Look at this doe eyes and sweet smile! You are a cutie pie, JK! The most precious one..." He let you squish his check with a blush taking over his whole face, but then he noticed the bruise forming in your wrist and his smile fell.

"But I did hurt you." He sadly took your hand in his. "Yes, but it can be fixed. It will heal, and it can heal even faster if I treat it right. And you can never do that again." You said logically. "How?" You pointed your index finger to the middle of Jungkook's forehead, and then to the middle of his chest.

"Healing yourself too. I know you're messed up, and that's ok. I'm here to help. We can start with therapy, you know..." Jungkook didn't like the idea of therapy at all, but for now he won't discuss it. You were probably right. "Ok." He said, snuggling closer to your leg. A very loud thunder burst outside, coming very close to the lightning, startling Jungkook, who reflexively grabbed the hem of your cotton shorts. You didn't refrain yourself from hugging him with your whole body, planting a heavy kiss on his cheek.

"Saw what i mean? You are too precious."

With his heat beating frantically he answered in a timid way.

"I don't like loud sounds... That's all."

"Is just loud, it can't hurt you." You said looking into his eyes, your nose almost touching his nose. "As long I'm here no one can hurt you." And there it is again. The smell of truth. The idea of someone as small as you protecting Jungkook from anything or anyone may seem absurd, but for no second he doubt your words, because each one of it smell like sincerity. Your eyes too, so intense as you said it, that made him want to protect you too.

"And what if you are not around when I need you?" He tested playfully. "Then you scream my name as loud as you can and I'll be there in no time!"

"Seriously?"

You seated straight, handson your hips.

"Of course! I was on the athletics team at college. I'm super fast!" He was laughing, your work was done. "Sorry I woke you up... And thank you for saving me." Jungkook said it with so much affection it made you heart skip a beat.

"Don't worry, sweetie, I woke up to the thunder." You simply said, but he knew this one was a lie. _________________________________________________________________________ After the incredible conversation he had with you in the middle of the night, and the rest of the night well slept, Jungkook started the day very willing and happy. He could barely walk, instead it was as if his legs were jumping around the apartment by itselves. You were up hours before him, but waited to eat breakfast with him - you already had a liter of coffee by yourself anyway. Despite not being what you like to do with your life, and and having another job - running a chain of stores for your family - you have been working as a lawyer for a member office for a few months. Even working from home, you have soooo much paperwork to fill out and study, reports with deadline to deliver, to be a suuuuuper efficient employee. So after you finished eating your cereal bowl, you left Jungkook to play video games alone and locked yourself in your personal upstairs office to work.

He can hear you walking around as you talk on the phone, your voice sounding serious and professional. He was having fun by himself, such a good time with snaks and left over cake, but at the same time he was struggling on not gonna check you out. You strictly asked him to not interrupt you till lunch time. Jungkook spent an hour in this internal fight to go or not to see if you didn't need something or want a glass of juice, to maybe get scratch behind his ear and a smile from you as reward. Like... You were just upstairs and he miss you too much. He was so focused on the game and his own thoughts that he didn't even notice his steps down the stairs and into the living room.

"Jungkook. I need to sign some papers in the office. If anything I'm downstairs."

"Ok." Then you left the apartment. You were too serious. Too cold. Too focused on serious and adult things. A world-sized pout formed in Jungkook's cute face. It is only the third day with you in his life, but he already feels very used to it - your presence of light and warm hugs was able to erase all the years of loneliness that in which he learned to be alone and be satisfied with his own company. Thinking about it he decided to change his plans. He turned off the video game, stretched out and went on an adventure ... He was going to inspect every corner of the house. Field recognition.

He started in the kitchen. He found out where everything, utensils, different types of pots, foods, is kept, and with that he learned a little bit about your personality too... Everything is so methodically organized by category and size that it became very clear that you are a tidy freaky. No problem, learning to respect your habits and quirks, being clean, shouldn't be that difficult. The same style of organization also in the hall closet, and in the bathroom, and on the bookcase for games and movies. He did not enter your room or private office - although the door was open, and he could see a very large bookcase and a table full of papers and an open notebook - because he thought it would be too much intrusion. So the only place on the top floor that went through Jungkook's inspection was the terrace, where your plants are also very well cared for and categorized by type and alphabetical order - including name and scientific name signs. In the tool cabinet, he found gardening tools - as expected - and some useless things or at least he hadn't imagined you'd have ... Like a neon pink pilates ball and an inflatable Santa Claus.

Jungkook lay on the deck chair on the terrace to sunbathe - few times in his life he had this luxury - and took the opportunity to take a nap. He woke up just before lunchtime.

"Y/N?" He checked on your office, and then in the living room. You weren't back yet, but since it was time for lunch he could finally go after you. Without hesitating he ran downstairs when he saw what time it was, escaping some steps to go faster, and without thinking, or rather remembering, that you probably wouldn't be alone in the office, Jungkook knocked twice on the door and went in before hearing an answer. So he froze by the door when he saw the two men from the other day with you in the room.

You were sharing the office chair with that hybrid - in fact he was practically sitting on your lap while you typed something on the computer, arms around him, both focused on the screen. The other guy, the human, had his back to Jungkook, hunched over the table, also looking at the same thing as you. It must be something important, because none of them noticed Jungkook's presence at first. Once again he felt that he was interrupting something he shouldn't be getting into - the little line forming between your eyebrows, while you read something on the screen in deep concentration saying it. With a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach he also felt that he should be interrupting for sure. No other hybrid should be on your lap while he is home alone. He was about to cough to get your attention, ready to make it very clear how unhappy he was with the scene, to let you know that your attitude was not cool, but the hybrid looked up from the computer, making eye contact with him. All of Jungkook's feelings are gone all of a sudden, leaving only the need to hide in a hole on the ground.

"Hi." The hybrid smiled at him, eyes turning into two crescent moons. This made you and the other guy see Jungkook too. The man, who today was dressed as a very stylish grandpa, turned around, sitting on the edge of the table and crossed his arms. JUngkook felt his face getting hot with all eyes on him.

"Oh, JK. I didn't see it's lunchtime already. Sorry." You said, checking your wristwatch.

Jungkook couldn't answer, his voice stuck in his throat.

"We ran into each other in the hall yesterday, right?" The human calmly asked Jungkook, not really waiting for an answer. His eyes were so intimidating, a whole dominating vibe coming from him. "He's the one living with you?"

"Yes! This is Jungkook." You pridely said, giving a light pat on the hybrid knee, so he could let you get up. "And this is Taehyung, my friend who rents the studio across the hall. And this little cutie here Jimin he works for me as a counter."

"I like numbers!" Jimin said, cat ears excitedly pointed up. "Nice to meet you." Jungkook finally put some word out, still avoiding eye contact. You closed some folders, saved some docs... Finding it super cute that Jungkook was so shy.

"Let's eat." You stated. "Finally..." Teahyung and Jimin whined in unison. Taehyung out of nowhere lost his frightening posture, practically becoming a child right in front of Jungkook. A very excited child.

"Can we get hamburgers today? Last time Jimin chose, and before him was you..." He picked his shoulder bag and went to the door, stopping right next to Jungkook, who practically froze in place.

You followed suit, stopping on the other side of Jungkook, pressing a reassuring hand against the boy's back.

"I actually want to put Jungkook on a healthier diet. A regular meal would be better." You softly but certainly said with a smile, no room for debate. You wouldn't say that out loud, because it would be exposing Jungkook unnecessarily, and you don't know if he would like it, but his blood tests, done at the shelter, showed anemia, among other consequences of a poor diet, even though he is strong his health was not very good, and your plan is to take care of it.

" I think Jungkook could choose, since he is new." Jimin practically put everyone out to lock the door.

The silence that followed made Jungkook look up from the floor to see that the three were looking at him expecting him to say something he wanted to eat.

"Me..meat?" It was the first thing that came to his mind.

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anbudrky2021 · 3 years

Text

The 𝔇𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔱𝔢 Sound of 𝒯𝒽𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 │ 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕣 𝕆𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕠𝕟

No major Smut warning. Please click here for series description and TWs. 💕

Ch 3: who made you cry

“Hey, Y/N...can we talk?” Thor stuck his head inside my doorway. I strutted up to him and tried to wrap my arms around his neck but he gently pulled me away.

My stomach churned.

“Please?” He asked in a low tone, stepping inside and shutting the door.

“Um. Yeah. I’m assuming this isn’t one of those times where you’re going to toss me on the bed and call me a naughty girl...” I sat down on the edge of the bed and bit at my nails.

“Stop.” He sat next to me and took my hands in his. “Y/N. We can’t do this anymore... not if...”

“Then leave.” I tore my hands from his. “Go. But if you leave, that’s it. I’m not going to let you come back.” I stood and pointed at the door.

“You don’t get it...” Thor slowly rolled his back down to the bed and laid for a moment. “I want to be with you. That’s the problem.”

I folded my arms. “Doesn’t sound like a problem to me.”

“The problem is I want to be with you but you don’t want a relationship.” He sighed with his eyes closed. “You keep stringing me along. I can’t keep feeling this way. I love spending time with you. The sex is incredible. Your mind...it’s intoxicating.” He sat back up. “Dare I say, YOU are a woman worth fighting for. But you’re selfish. And miserable and cruel.”

He stood now. Cruel? My heart broke in half. I could see the angst on his face. I tried to reach out but he shoved past me. “You’re better than this, Y/N. Figure it out before you hurt someone else.”

I shot up in bed, sweating and breathing hard. I hate that memory. Almost as much as mom...her death...I shuttered.

“Uuuggghhhhh” I groaned and laid back down, covering my face with my pillow. A few moments passed and there was a light knock at the door.

“Come in!” I yelled through the pillow.

I heard the door open. Close. Smaller feet walking. Wanda or Nat I assumed. The bed dipped slightly where they sat. I peeked from under the pillow. Wanda. Coffee.

She silently handed it to me. I took it and sat up.

“Nightmare again?” She asked, shooing me over so she could crawl in. I nodded.

She laid her head on my shoulder. “Y/N. You’ve gotta figure out what’s going on. It’s affecting you. But also your pow-“

“THANKS MOM!” I semi-yelled. My eyes rolled.

She glared at me. “We need you...”

“I know. Wanda, I know. It’s hard. I don’t know what’s wrong either. It’s not fair..” I shook my head. “It’s like. Half of the time my brain is fuzzy and the other half it’s almost like...I’m Bruce. I’m not in control.”

She looked concerned. “Sweetheart...I think it’s time we go to Wakanda. I don’t know what else we can do here..” she held my hand.

“No.” I looked away from her.

“He’s different now. He won’t hurt you...” she winced at the memory I was having.

“I know. He’s a good man. But I can’t...” my skin crawled. “It’s scary, Wanda.”

She took the now empty cup from my hands and got out of the bed. “Just...think about it ok?” She fiddled with the mug in her hands. “And umm...maybe getting away will help you figure out your Peter stuff.”

“Oh! I did!” I smiled.

“And?” She asked with anticipation. But before I could answer, Nat burst in the door.

“Is she ready to go?!” Nat looked excited.

“To go where?...” surely not Wakanda already.

“It’s a surprise! But get up! Put something athletic and comfy on! 10 minutes.” She turned and left with Wanda behind her.

I sighed into the quiet room. I got dressed and ready as requested and met up with Wanda, Nat and Steve.

“Steve?” I asked, walking up the jet stairs.

“Yeah?” He said, placing his hand on the small of my back to help me up.

“We’re going to Wakanda. Aren’t we?”

He didn’t say anything. Just looked at me with concern.

“I might need you...” I whispered. I was so frustrated and embarrassed. “I haven’t seen him since...” I took a deep breath.

“I know. It’s been a long time. Don’t worry, y/n. I’ve got you.” Steve rubbed my shoulder and then gestured toward the inside of the jet.

“Buck! I want you to meet someone!” Steve shouted toward a broad man with long hair. And blue-very blue eyes.

We walked toward him, and I began to feel my head spin. “Shit” I whispered to myself.

Steve looked at me, confusion on his face. “Hey, hey. You ok??” He asked.

‘Buck’ picked up his pace and jogged to meet up with us after noticing us stop.

“I’m Bucky. You are?” He extended his hand to me. I vomited immediately. On him. And then passed out.

I don’t know the exact details but I do remember waking up with two pairs of concerned eyes staring at me in a what seemed to be a medical office.

“Hey there. You ok?” Steve asked, holding my hand. Bucky left the room, I assumed to get someone.

“Yeah that’s never happened before...” I felt my forehead. That was a lie. It happened when I met Steve, too. Just not so quickly or powerfully.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he laughed. He kissed my hand and let it go. “I know it happened when you met me. I was hoping that wouldn’t happen to you this time.” He sighed.

Bucky returned with a slim young woman. Shuri was her name.

“Nasty fall, nah?” She smirked. She pointed at my arm. It was bandaged. “You’d think with two super soldiers from the 40s, ONE of them would have caught you??” She had a judgey look on her face while glancing at them both. I laughed.

“True. So much for being gentlemen...” I giggled.

“Well. Your labs look good. Whatever it is about these beefcakes, it gets your wiring all messed up. But it seems like once gosh acclimate you’re ok.” She sat in a chair. “Must be the dashing looks.”

Steve and Bucky both blushed. “So she’ll be alright?” Asked Steve.

“Oh yeah. Definitely. Just don’t break her. She’s important.” Shuri winked at me.

“I’m not that important.” I snorted.

“Y/N don’t short change yourself. You have impeccable assassin skills and your brain does that thing...” Steve twinkled his fingers referring to my telekinesis and telepathy. I rolled my eyes.

“That means she can read my mind?” Bucky asked, blushing harder.

“No. She can’t actually.” Steve said.

“But I can make you think things. And I can speak to you without using my mouth.” I projected into Bucky’s thoughts.

“Uh...” his eyes widened. “I don’t like that...”

Steve laughed. “Don’t worry. She doesn’t do it to us. Usually.” He shot a warning look.

“Only when I’m drunk.” I laughed. Steve didn’t. “Steve!! I said sorry!!!” He smirked but tried to keep it hidden.

“One time I got drunk and projected something inappropriate...I was directing it at Thor but I was seeing like three Thors and Steve was in the way...” I blushed at the memory. And that was before Thor and I got together.

Bucky laughed out loud. His nose crinkled a bit and he did a slight belly laugh. “Aw. I bet Steve was confused!”

Shuri was laughing along as she unhooked me from the lab equipment. “And maybe a little interested” she winked at Steve.

“No. Y/N is a teammate. There’s no time for that.” Steve said matter-of-factly.

“There’s always time for that.” Bucky’s demeanor changed. He seemed more confident and cocky.

“Oh, down boy!” Shuri mimed an owner shooing their dog. “Behave!”

I hopped off the bed and joined the boys. Next to them I felt incredibly tiny. “Alright. Let’s start planning this mission!”

As we approached Wakanda my heart started pounding. I took a few deep breaths. “Wanda...” I whispered. “I think. I might have a panic attack...” I couldn’t breathe and my vision was turning more into tunnel vision. She helped me breathe. Steve got me water and Nat talked calmly about some distracting things. By the time we landed I felt a bit better. Enough to stand and at least get out of the jet.

“I love this place!!!” Wanda squealed as she looked around. “I’m so excited!!” This was Wanda’s first time. Nat stood beside Steve and smirked at the excitable girl.

I walked over to Natasha and took a deep breath. “I can’t believe I’m back. This blows.”

Nat frowned. “Y/N I know this is hard for you. But we’ve gotta figure out what to do to help you.” She took my hand and led the four of us toward the palace.

We arrived in time to meet up with King T’Challa as he was leaving for a meeting. “I will meet with you this evening, my esteemed guests. In the meanwhile, please enjoy the palace and my city.”

We showed him our thankfulness and continued on our way.

“My favorites!!!” Shuri could be heard from down the hallway. We all turned to see her “well. And the new one.” She pointed to Wanda.

Wanda scowled for a moment but I lightly punched her, reminding her to be polite.

“It’s Wanda.” She said through her teeth.

“Wanda! Nice to meet you. Sorry. I didn’t mean for that to come out rude a moment ago!!” Shuri could tell she had frustrated Wanda.

“Oh...it’s ok.” Wanda looked embarrassed as well. I hugged Shuri and she took us to our rooms.

“You will be here,” she said pointing to a gold and vibrainum filled room. The bedding was colorful and fluffed. The bathroom was immaculate. I threw myself on the bed as she shuffled the rest off.

It must have been an hour or so before I was jolted awake by my head pounding and a familiar scent.

“Hey...” I heard his voice come from beside my bed.

“No” I said harshly and pointed to the door.

“Please. I just want to tal-“

“NO!!!” I screamed and threw the closest item I could find at him.

“Y/N. Stop! Please just-“

“BUCKY GO! I WILL CALL STEVE!!!” I grabbed my phone from my bag id tossed on the bed earlier.

“I just want to apologize...” Bucky tried to touch my hand but I punched him right in the center of his face.

“Fuck!” He yelled. “Fuck! That hurt!” He was able to maneuver it back into place and he wiped the blood from his nostrils. “Can we talk now!?” He looked exhausted.

“Fine. But I have Steve on speed dial and he will throw you through the wall if I ask him to...” I sat down in the nearest chair.

“I just want to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry about us. You. Your mom. The...uh...the other thing too...” he trailed off. Neither of us wanted to talk about it.

“Ok.” I pointed at the door. “You said sorry. Now go.”

He took a deep breath and then sighed slowly. “I know you were with Thor. And now Peter?” He sat down in the opposite chair.

“That’s not your business.”

“So everything happened here. You went home. You fucked Thor. Got bored. Now Peter?” He almost chuckled. “Y/N, what’s going on with you? You’re not...you’re not being yourself.”

“Myself?? I’m sorry after...everything. And my mom. And YOU. That I’m not the same. Sorry I had to fuck a few people to get over it.” I rolled my eyes and then curled up into the chair more. “You don’t care anyway. You just want to hear how I’m losing my mind and how terribly I’m doing.”

He reached across carefully and placed his hand on my propped up knee. “No. I care. I call Steve every day.”

I furrowed my brows. “Why?”

“Missions. Shoot the shit. You...” he looked into my eyes and then to the floor. He took his hand off my knee and leaned into his chair. He adjusted his position, spreading his legs more comfortably. “I ask about you almost every time. Just to make sure you’re ok... when Steve told me about” he gestured at his head “I talked to Shuri. She said she’d do what she could.” He ran his fingers through his now short hair.

“You cut it.” I motioned to his hair.

“After you left I changed a lot about myself.” He stiffened his posture. “I um...I’m clean. Wiped. The triggers. They’re gone.” He looked into my eyes again.

“What?” I whispered, unable to believe it. “How?”

“They do incredible work here. I’m indebted...” his eyes brimmed with tears. “Please forgive me. I spend every day feeling shame and regret and pain. I’m so sorry. Y/N. It wasn’t me. It was but it wasn’t. You know that...” he began to sob.

I reached out and combed my fingers through the hair in front of me. His head was in his hands now. “Bucky. I know. I know it wasn’t you. I know. I know... but YOUR body was the one who-I mean, it’s still your face I see. It hurts me. My heart wrenches for you. And me. I can’t imagine how it feels for you but please see it from my perspective. It wasn’t YOU at your core. But it was your body and face and voice and...your eyes...” I started to sob now, too. “Bucky I loved you.”

He looked at me more now. “I did, too...” he lunged forward, cupping my face in his hand and metal hand. I stood up to meet him. His lips assaulted mine in a way I haven’t felt since we last made love. His hands dropped down and caressed my arms, shoulders. My hips and waist. He pushed us to the nearest surface, the writers table. He easily picked me up and sat me on it. As he went to kiss me again, I stopped him.

“Wait. No. This isn’t right. I’m seeing Peter. He doesn’t. He doesn’t deserve this. What am I doing?!” I pushed Bucky away from me and left my room with him in my wake. I couldn’t see through my tears when I rounded the corner, I ran straight into Thor.

“Who made you cry?”

#mcu #steve rogers #bucky barnes #marvel #thor #peter parker #fluff and angst #avengers fanfiction #bucky smut #thor x y/n #peter parker and y/n #bucky x you

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capnjay21 · 3 years

Text

The Wind Blows White 1/6

It’s been two years since Killian Jones and Emma Swan managed to escape the clutches of Brooke House, two years of waiting for it all to catch up to them and two years of pretending the cracks in their happy ending don’t show. But when the vision appears to Killian of a young boy unearthing the dagger and the darkness they had long since buried, it’s a race against time to try and stop another innocent from befalling the same fate. If they have the strength to face it.

Sequel to ‘A House is Never Still’.

A/N: Here it is, happy (slightly early) Halloween everyone! :D Confession time, I’ve actually been kinda nervous about posting this for a little while? Fretting over whether this one won’t be as good or scary as the original - but I am officially making a concerted effort not to care about any of that, because this is how the next part of the story goes and I’m excited to tell it! I hope you guys like it <3

***Editing to include the AMAZING art done by the lovely @hollyethecurious - I love it so much and I’m so excited by it. And for those that don’t know, she created the art that inspired the original fic so this is EXTRA cool!

Updates will probs be every other week to allow me to stay ahead. If it’s any consolation, they’re usually over 10k words, oof! Enjoy!

AO3

Rating: T Warnings: Mentions of canonical character death and some certified Spooky Business™.

Taglist: @carpedzem @optomisticgirl @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @phiralovesloki @hollyethecurious @stahlop @peglegsjones @mariakov81 @seasailia @courtorderedcake @jonesfandomfanatic @wyntereyez @mrtinski @thisonesatellite @klynn-stormz @teamhook

If anyone would like on, or off, the taglist, just let me know!

-/-

1. i won’t die in my sleep.

-/-

It was 2:17am.

The whispers woke her, as the whispers always did.

It took her a few dizzying moments to emerge completely from sleep, the vivid and fraught images of her restless dreaming spilling out into the darkness of the room. As usual, she could not move. Her muscles had seized, curled tightly around her stomach like a clenched fist, trembling with strain while her eyes blinked out into the dark. She could see the forest. The broad, sweeping trunks of old red oaks sprawled from the ground upward, their leaves stained crimson by blood while their bark wept tears the colour of potted ink. Only once observed did she really consider that there was so little in nature truly black, as pus the same shade as crows dribbled and oozed down the spines of every oak she could see.

Slowly, the numbness receded from her aching limbs, the reckless smears of her wakeless mind gave way to the shapes her eyes could make out, could confirm as being there, and like a prayer she whispered aloud every object she could see and smell and know was real.

“Chair,” she croaked, “desk. Lamp. Computer. Window. Gold –”

No. No gold. The basket of spun gold twine was the final little spill, tempting her to return to a nightmare it could kiss back into a dream.

She refused.

It disappeared.

The whispers had woken her, but once she rose she was alone in the dark.

Emma patted the bed beside her, and found the sheets bare and cool. He had been gone for some time already, then. Trying to suppress the growing tide of unease that always came from waking alone, she stood slowly, then stretched out her sore muscles. Sore from being clenched so tightly for what felt like hours. Usually Killian woke her before it reached this point, but clearly he hadn’t even been there for its beginning.

She sighed. Thought about calling him. The clock on her nightstand winked in and out. 2:17am.

There was no point, anyway. She knew where he’d be.

-/-

It was 2:17am.

As usual, it was raining.

Beyond the stretch of porch in front of him, sheets of water fell in a relentless assault on the sodden ground, and Killian mopped at his already sweaty brow. The air was thick and moist, even this early in the morning, the height of an unusually punishing June. He let the downpour carry on for another few moments before ducking out into it, bending to lift the wide bowl he had left sitting on the grass a couple of minutes earlier. Now filled to the brim with rainwater, he brought it back underneath the shelter of the porch and laid it down on the ground.

He'd had that dream again. He couldn’t stop thinking about it.

There was a noise from not too far away, the screech of metal on concrete in the dark and the answering leap of a car horn out into the night air, but he tried to push it from his mind. This would never work if he couldn’t clear his thoughts. Folding his legs underneath him, Killian leant forward until he could see his reflection staring back at him from the bowl.

The surface of the water was inky black, the faint caresses of a breeze brushing ripples across the surface and making his reflection appear distorted, but he tried to see beyond that. Beyond his tired eyes and the hurt and the heat, to something more. Silently, he willed the dark pool to show him something else.

Show me the boy, he asked out into the dark. Show me the boy at the creek with the dagger.

Even just the thought of the dagger, the curling blade they had sent hurling into the ravine, brought forth a rush of unwelcome and jarring memories. The dagger, floating in the middle of their circle, summoning a storm of black lightning and hurt and that nothing, that awful nothing, and Killian could feel something tugging at the centre of his chest, beckoning him forward.

He couldn’t see his reflection anymore. The surface of the water was blank.

Not like this, he thought furiously, wrestling for control.

It wasn’t interested in his control. If he wanted to go deeper, he had to let himself fall. This was the bargain.

But –

He thought of her at home, in their bed, resting fitfully.

This was the bargain.

Emma.

Killian gasped for air, which was when he realised the tightness in his chest was because he hadn’t taken a breath in a long time. He almost fell forward, and his right hand shot out to the deck of the porch to stop his face from crashing into the bowl – which was when he realised it was just a bowl of water again. His reflection stared back at him, breathing heavily, eyes wild and afraid.

If he wanted to go deeper, he had to let himself fall.

In his mind’s eye, he could see it perfectly. The sparkling summer day. The boy, knelt with his right arm in the creek before he pulled it out, and the dagger with it.

Dragging his eyes away from the bowl, he reached into his pocket for his phone. The clock on the display ticked onto 2:17am.

Still? He thought, bewildered.

“You should be used to this sort of shit by now,” he muttered, before emptying the bowl onto the grass.

-/-

It was 2:17am.

Henry only knew this because it had been 2:17am for a really long time already, but every time he checked the clock it was the same.

“Gotta be broken,” he mumbled, letting it drop back onto his nightstand. He told himself to roll over, to go back to sleep, Mom was making pancakes tomorrow and he didn’t want to be too tired to enjoy them, but something kept lingering at the edge of his awareness. Like a movement that was too quick to spot, or a sound too quiet to take shape, or that sensation after someone had taken a deep breath and they were waiting to speak, but wouldn’t utter a word until he looked at them.

Something was different, and it niggled at him like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch.

Somehow, he didn’t feel alone in his bedroom anymore.

He rolled over again, and this time his eyes instantly locked onto the shoebox he had stuffed under his dresser. He didn’t know how he knew, but he just did. Whatever he was feeling – it was coming from there, and the object he had hidden inside.

The dagger he had found at the creek.

It was… whispering to him.

Come, it hissed out into the dark. Listen.

Henry’s hand tightened on the covers. Then he gently pushed them back and sat up.

-/-

It was 2:17am.

Robert should have been home hours ago, and Belle couldn’t sleep for worry.

Her heart stuttered into hopefulness with every shadow that passed in front of the pawn shop window, but each one merely reached the other side with barely a glance back at her. She thought about calling the police, but surely they would dismiss her concerns so early into the morning. It’s normal, ma’am, they would say, and laugh about wives wondering after their wandering husbands. But this was different.

There was something about the way he had looked tonight, something wild and dangerous and careless in his eye, that had made her want to take three steps back every time he opened his mouth to speak. His tongue had lingered over softer sounds, tickled by a secret that only it knew. Like an animal, his sharp eyes had followed her around the shop as they closed, and when he kissed her it had sent a shiver down her spine.

It had frightened her. He had frightened her.

You’ll see, he had said, when she asked where he was going. You’ll see.

Belle didn’t want to see. She just wanted him to come home. Her mind railed against the truth that had already started to creep into the corner of her heart.

Tonight, he had gone to Brooke House.

And Brooke House did not want to give him back.

-/-

Liam Jones didn’t care what fucking time it was.

Aching and exhausted, he kicked open the screen door and stepped out onto the porch. The air was dank and cold, and smelled faintly of mildew, and he wrapped his coat tighter around him. Killian had needed three blankets before he could get to sleep earlier, the act of being inside the house only slightly warmer than the harsh early spring outside, but still sweat pooled at the base of Liam’s neck. His hands felt clammy with a layer of grit that he could never wipe away, and the moisture on his skin froze the moment he walked out into the night.

But under his skin, he burned with cold fury.

He’d have to pretend to be Brennan and call the school again tomorrow, there was no way he could go in if he needed to be up for the rest of the night. He could send Killian over to Smee’s, that was one problem dealt with. The older man would take him into elementary school; but even that solution summoned the familiar rush of dread that came to Liam whenever he thought of his little brother moving into middle school next year. That would make everything so much more difficult to hide from concerned and nosy neighbours alike.

How had he let this happen? Again? They had been making so much progress.

Liam rubbed his eyes tiredly. He should just hurry up and drop out. He was good with his hands, he could make a living doing carpentry jobs, move to some quiet town upstate maybe –

I’m just trying to prepare you for life’s big question, Liam.

What kind of man are you going to be?

A quiet town upstate? He was really setting the bar low for pipe dreams these days.

Then there was always the chance Brennan might be himself again by morning; maybe he could call the school. Could drive Killian in. Maybe he’d be up before the sun rose like he used to, whistling a sea shanty and cooking them eggs over easy.

Now there was a pipe dream.

What time was it? A distracted pat of his jacket let him know his phone was still inside, but he wasn’t quite ready to go back in yet. It had to be late. Or early. Wednesday. The recycling went out on Wednesday. Which mean they were two days closer to Friday, which was the eighteenth. Water bill went out on the eighteenth.

Brennan hadn’t worked in weeks. They’d be short.

No heat and no water. The only things he could rely on in this house were the bricks and the mortar.

Why him? Why did it have to be him?

Liam resisted the urge to scream. At the night, at the cold, at whatever curse had captured his family and refused to let them go.

It was 2:17am.

And Liam wasn’t alone on the porch.

Once alerted to the intruder he stumbled backward, fumbling around for anything he could use as a weapon.

“Liam?”

Liam froze, his fist having clenched around the shard of a shattered flowerpot Brennan had destroyed last week.

The stranger hadn’t moved, stood silhouetted against the porch light.

He blinked. Willed his racing heart to slow.

“Who are you?”

-/-

It was 2:17am.

Except, no, it wasn’t.

Emma frowned and looked at her phone again, and the correct time stared back at her; 10:41am. How had she thought it said anything different?

She shook her head. Shit, she really needed to get more sleep. Her foot resumed tapping its restless beat on the floor of the almost empty corridor.

The entire hall was almost completely deserted, only the low murmur of conversation ricocheting against thin walls and tall ceilings, and everything was beige. Beige walls, beige floors, beige murals; she fucking hated beige, it was such a non-colour. Just pick something a bit more appealing and stick to it. But in her not-all-that-limited experience, most government buildings seemed to default to beige, and it was no different in the Seattle equivalent of the DMV. They had been led up to the customer service desk almost half an hour ago, but nobody seemed to care about how goddamn important this was, and her anxiety was climbing with every unattended second that ticked past.

Somewhere down the corridor a door opened, and Emma immediately whipped around to look at it. A broad, cheerful man offered her a bemused smile at the sudden sharp attention he was being given, before disappearing out through another door.

“You need to calm down,” Killian mused.

A glance at him confirmed his eyes were still closed, head tilted to lean back against the wall with his hands folded over his stomach, but her impatience had to have been obvious even without looking at her. She huffed in a way which she knew made her sound puerile, and the corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement. From the moment they had been seated there he had stayed silent, and it was only fuelling her irritation that she couldn’t settle on whether that was because he was bored, tired or just giving her room to complain and agitate to her heart’s content. She preferred to know exactly what Killian was thinking.

The memory of waking alone the night before still smarted, and she had to keep reminding herself that it wasn’t Killian’s job to always be at her side on the off chance she didn’t sleep through the night. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, and she knew whatever had caught his attention this time had kept him up at least an hour or so after she had summoned the courage to climb back into bed. She had still been awake when he slid back in beside her, but she had pretended to be asleep.

He had probably known she was doing it, which was why he had kissed an apology into her shoulder and held her a little tighter than usual.

It was hard to stay mad at him when he hadn’t technically done anything to make her mad – and he was already sorry about the thing he shouldn’t have to be sorry for.

Which just made her feel even worse.

“I hate beige,” she grumbled.

Killian let out a breath of warm, ticklish laughter, something that growled pleasantly in his throat. Some of her temper ebbed away. “I know,” he said. “I’ll take you somewhere pink after.”

“There’s that big hotel in Hawaii that’s totally pink, right? What do they call that?”

He opened his eyes and arched an eyebrow. “And maybe when our next skip is the Queen of England, we’ll be able to afford to go there.” Even less than thirty seconds of talking to him, properly, she could feel her mood lifting. He reached one of his hands into her lap, seeking hers, and she let him thread their fingers together. “I was actually thinking donuts. The strawberry glazed kind?”

Emma sighed happily. “Make it chocolate and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

He smiled warmly and squeezed her hand. “Whatever you want.”

His mood seemed light, but she wasn’t fooled. The way she would catch his eyes flickering carefully between her and the customer service desk in front of them told her all she really needed to know about the direction of his thoughts – they probably shared the same sinking feeling that had washed over her since they had arrived.

That this almost definitely wasn’t going to go her way.

“Ms. Swan?”

Immediately Emma was on her feet, bolting over to the desk as quickly as polite company would allow, Killian close behind, all traces of mirth evaporated from his expression. The man who had come to meet them wasn’t the same one who had led them up to the desk earlier, and a quick glance at his nametag told Emma they were speaking to a Mr. Heller. He resembled every bureaucrat that had ever taken residence in her imagination, thin in a sickly way and sort-of feeble-looking, but with a snide tug at the corner of his mouth which suggested he was not going to tell her what she wanted to hear, and he was enjoying the prospect immensely.

The sick feeling in her gut deepened.

“Thank you for waiting,” he said, in a bored tone, skimming the file he was holding. Emma tried to lift herself a little taller to take a look at it, but it was angled slightly away from her. “We were able to track down the license plate you requested in your application, but it was recalled eleven years ago. The vehicle it was registered to is no longer in use.”

It was easy to push back the first wave of disappointment – a setback, but not the most important thing. “But you know who it belonged to?”

Heller sighed heavily, and let the folder close. “I’m afraid the Washington State Licensing Department has denied your public records request regarding the owners of the plate.”

It was like a punch to the stomach. She could feel the warmth of Killian’s palm splayed against the small of her back, gently reassuring.

This couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be another dead end.

“On what grounds?” he was asking, and she felt a rush of gratitude for him as she hadn’t quite been able to form her mouth around the words.

“Not enough evidence,” Heller continued, in that same flat tone that was beginning to grate. “We reviewed the article you sent, about the circumstances of the abandoned child at the edge of the road. There isn’t a lot of information available regarding the incident, even at the county level.”

“Well, it happened,” Emma replied hotly. “It’s me. I was the kid.”

Another banner year, right?

What?

We’ve all got ghosts here.

Heller quirked an eyebrow. “Then the department offers their sympathies. But there is no reason to suggest the plate you requested belonged to the vehicle involved.” He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Maine is a long way from Seattle.”

But she had seen it.

She had experienced the moment that changed the course of her life hundreds, thousands of times at the behest of a malevolent demon, while to the rest of the world she had been missing for five years. Even before that, the very fact of her being abandoned on the side of the road as a baby had cast its shadow over her entire life. Achieving any measure of answers about it had been unobtainable. She had made her peace with that a long time ago.

But then she became trapped in Brooke House.

And Brooke House had given her a few more pieces of the puzzle.

It felt like a dream, now. Like the scatter of smoke, or déjà vu. Something she couldn’t really be sure had happened. She had spent five years of her life suspended in a place that showed only her regrets, her fears, her desperate desires; anything that would make her pray for deliverance. In the two years she had spent free of it all, her ability to conjure up and consult those visions waxed and waned. The images it had shown her sometimes dribbled back like the trickle of a raindrop down glass to her waiting, thirsty mouth, but nothing was ever enough. While that feeling, that sensation of being left again, and again, and again remained seared onto her mind forever, the actual, physical details of the day her parents abandoned her were scarce. The vision was difficult to bring into focus.

Two months ago, a nightmare had caught her so tightly that Killian hadn’t been able to wake her for six minutes. Just when he had been reaching for his phone in a panic to dial 911, she had burst free; gasping, aching – awake and alive. The details had been so vivid. Before her eyes, her parents abandoned her at the side of the freeway; only this time she had spotted and could recall the plate of the car that had left her.

They had packed everything they owned into Killian’s Chevelle and made for Seattle in a matter of days.

This couldn’t be the end of the road. Not after everything she had been through to get here. She deserved answers, damn it.

“That’s the thing about cars,” Emma replied coolly, “they drive. And if you’re abandoning a kid, you’re not likely to do it on your own doorstep, are you?”

Heller looked bored. “You’re welcome to make an appeal against the department’s decision, so long as you do so within four to six weeks.”

“But I saw – we have a witness!”

“A witness?” His tone was disbelieving, and he fixed her with a hard stare. “Why didn’t you say so before?” Emma opened her mouth, but Killian pinched the side of her waist sharply and she hesitated. When she didn’t immediately confirm her declaration, Heller’s eyebrows rose victoriously. “Would they be prepared to come down here and make a statement?”

“We can ask,” Killian replied smoothly, before she could say anything. He whipped a notepad and a pen from his pocket. “Is it the same address we submit the appeal to, or –?”

Emma fumed quietly at his side. She knew why he had cut her off, before she could dig herself into a hole that would ensure state officials labelled her as halfway to crazy town, but it was infuriating. She couldn’t very well say their witness was her and the visions a haunted house halfway across the country had given her – a house which they had no physical evidence even existed, as it had since disappeared.

Silently, she smouldered.

Killian reached absently for her hand. She tugged it out of his grip.

Heller and Killian confirmed the logistics of an appeal process, but before long they were being thanked dully for their time and invited to leave. Emma stayed quiet for their entire walk out of the building, and she could sense Killian intentionally kept some space between them to allow her to adequately process what had happened in there.

Nothing. Nothing was what had happened in there.

Emma could feel the tide of something tight at the top of her stomach, like her insides were cramping. It was how she felt when she woke, uncertain, in the middle of the night.

“We’ll find another way, Emma,” Killian spoke gently as they stepped out into the morning sunlight.

Emma waved a dismissive hand and tried to focus her gaze on the particulars of the street. The chequered red, blue and silver line of cars parked along the sidewalk, the scent of wet asphalt and the hum of traffic whizzing by. They were far from a forest here – but she could feel the quiet whisper of the trees against her skin.

“I know, I know, I just –” She curled her toes in her boots, felt the stiff concrete beneath her feet. “I’m – tired of hitting brick walls.”

“We’ve got a little cash in the bank,” Killian pointed out, “maybe for the appeal we could hire a solicitor, just see if there’s anything else we can do to help our case.”

He was frowning at the note he had scribbled down during their conversation with Heller, his mind already four or five steps further ahead, and Emma felt a rush of affection for him. For his solidness and his patience. His tenacity was well documented, he had spent five years searching for answers about Brooke House and had never once given up on the idea that he would find them, and her along with them – even now he refused to let any speedbumps hamper their progress. It was so easy for her to get struck down by the first sign of resistance, but Killian persisted in a way she could only ever hope of emulating.

Nothing in the street felt tangible beside the resilience and vibrance of Killian Jones. Sometimes it felt like he was the only real thing she had found outside of Brooke House.

Like dust, the cars and the concrete and the chorus of the Seattle summer drifted away.

She reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly, praying for an anchor.

“How are you always so optimistic?”

“Because I know what you’re capable of,” he replied easily, although it felt like he was speaking to her from a great distance. Emma fought to inhabit this moment. “And I’ve yet to see you fail.”

Killian was smiling, which had always done its best to keep monsters at bay.

In a blur the noises returned, like a radio slowly tuning into focus.

“Emma?” he queried softly, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Are you still with me?”

The wet splatters of rain against the yearning canopy receded as it stretched for the sky.

Down the street a car horn blared, and she let it shake her firmly back into the present.

In Seattle, the sun was shining, and Killian was here. Standing so close to his warmth made her feel like a thief, but she couldn’t stop herself from reaching for him.

“Donuts,” she managed, nodding firmly. “I need a whole lot of donuts.”

He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it. “You read my mind.”

-/-

Killian railed against the idea of calling Elsa’s home a house.

It was a huge, sprawling behemoth of a structure, with vast corridors that led nowhere and innumerable superfluous rooms that all looked identical, with walls scaled by books and furniture shrouded in neat, ivory sheeting to protect them from dust and age. More than once he had found himself completely and utterly lost while attempting to find the bathroom, which he was convinced changed locations every time he visited it, and that wasn’t even mentioning the size of the grounds which circled the outside of the house.

Embedded deep within the winding roads of West Bellevue, he was grateful for the opportunity to interact with something a little less urban than the busy street he and Emma had rented their flat on, and Elsa had opened up her home to all assortments of waifs and strays long before he had ever come on the scene. Truthfully, it was sheer coincidence that they had even met, crossing paths in downtown Seattle late one night – but then, he didn’t believe in coincidences anymore. He had been searching for something more, and she had been offering something for him to find. The rest was inevitable.

Clear night, isn’t it?

The room in which he spent the most time was the large dining room – the long table that would ordinarily occupy its centre was, as ever, pushed to the side against one wall and loaded with edible treats already half depleted, clearing the way for Elsa’s guests to arrange themselves on the floor in any number of styles depending on what the evening requested of them. The windows always remained open, so the room was immersed in the earthy scent of the outside, of wet moss and woodsmoke and pine, and the rain from the night before somehow made everything so much more pervasive.

Aurora stood in the centre of the room with her eyes closed, her hands held palm up with a pinecone resting atop them, while the rest of Elsa’s guests sat spread out across the room with their palms turned to the ceiling, mimicking the same position.

Killian sat at the edge of the room, notebook resting open in his lap, and observed.

Elsa stood, made her way over to Aurora, and placed her hands over the other woman’s.

“Child of earth, wind, fire and sea,” she spoke clearly out into the silent room. “We welcome you into our lives, into our homes, and into the waiting embrace of this powerful, caring woman. Think fondly on her, and choose her, as we have, to be part of your family.”

As Aurora opened her eyes, Anna stepped forward holding a candle in one hand and a ceramic bowl scattered with herbs in the other.

“Light it,” Elsa encouraged her, and Aurora held the pinecone over the candle until it caught.

The flame grew rapidly, Killian remembered reading somewhere that it had to do with the natural resins so near to the surface in pinecones, and soon Aurora dropped it into the bowl. Once there, the contents of the bowl started to gently smoulder and the scent of sweetgrass and sage began to float out into the air.

Killian took a deep breath. Let it wash over him for a few quiet, tender moments.

He wasn’t sure why, but he always felt closest to Liam here.

Aurora was smiling, and Elsa grinned back.

“Blessed be,” she said warmly. “And good luck!”

The group echoed a fractured but delighted blessed be, in response, before breaking out into a smattering of claps and spirited cheers. A few jumped to their feet to envelope Aurora in a loving, haphazard embrace.

No, house didn’t really cover the breadth of what Elsa’s home had become to this community, or the reality of what Killian had found there.

This was a covenstead.

It wasn’t the first coven Killian had ever encountered – his first had been in Pennsylvania a number of years ago, but they had been intensely private and suspicious of strangers, and their association had not extended more than a few weeks. Long before now it had become his habit to deliberately seek out suggestions of the world that existed beyond what they could see. It had started because of Brooke House, because of the mistakes they had made when they were seventeen and naïve and frightened; after Emma had disappeared, Killian had searched for answers anywhere he could. He had five years to cross the globe, to pursue every lead and overturn every stone that might hint at something more, with varying levels of success.

Now, Killian had spent so long searching that he wasn’t sure he remembered how to be anything else. Getting Emma back, rather than being the end of his fascination with the otherworldly, had only fuelled it. There were still so many questions he didn’t have answers to, with Liam being chief among them. His brother had been involved in all this, had known about this barely perceivable double life that some among them were living, but Killian still had no idea about the how, or the why.

Emma was his life now. Everything he had ever wanted. For so long, his sole focus had been in making this world as right for her as possible, in giving her the tools with which she could build her new reality and hoping desperately that she still wanted him in it; while privately wrestling with that disquieting sensation that accompanied stepping away from the bizarre and the unexplained for the first time in a long while.

It was difficult, he had realised, to come to terms with the fact that everything you wanted wouldn’t stay everything you needed for the rest of your life.

And Killian needed something.

On their third night in Seattle, he had met Elsa. The very same night he had first had the dream about the boy and the creek and the dagger.

He didn’t believe in coincidences anymore.

Soon after Elsa wrapped up the ceremony, the group began to disperse, some aiming for a few treats to take for the road while others went to collect coats and bags from the hall. For his part, Killian took more care than necessary slipping his notebook back into his already overpacked bag and began shrugging on his jacket. The ending of these meetings always left him feeling oddly bereft, like although every week he walked in with no idea what he would find, somehow his expectations were never met. Or perhaps it was the realisation that always came when he watched the members of the coven at its conclusion, mingling and trading smiles and stories about the week that had just passed.

He wasn’t one of them. They were all kind enough, and they liked him, but he wasn’t part of them. They wondered why he was there as much as he did.

Watching them, his heart throbbed for the one place that had always been home; for that warm, golden light, for Regina’s lasagne and David’s terrible jokes and Mary Margaret’s helpful reminders to enjoy happily ever after. His chest hurt for the wanting of it.

The clerk at the DMV the day before had been right: Maine was a long way from Seattle.

He turned to leave.

“Killian, hi there.” It was Elsa, calling him back, and he fixed on a cheerful smile as he pivoted on the spot to face her. “I hope today wasn’t too women-centric for you.”

Aurora was trying for a baby with her husband; as a result, they had focused the evening on fertility. The lighting of the pinecone was a ritual from Elsa’s book of shadows, and had followed a relaxing evening spent sharing poetry and prayers and best wishes about family.

(At the very least, that probably explained why he was feeling so homesick.)

“Not at all,” he assured her, not least because he didn’t feel fertility was an exclusively female pursuit. There were plenty of men there tonight. “It’s a pleasure to observe. Thank you again for inviting me into your home.”

“Anyone is welcome here, there’s no need to thank me.”

He was reminded, again, of how different Elsa’s coven were to the one in Pennsylvania; Elsa made a point of opening up the covenstead to anyone at any time, not just during their meetings. It was Elsa’s home, but it was also effectively a refuge or meeting place for any of its members whenever they needed it. The grounds in particular were always accessible, and something Killian himself had taken advantage of more than once.

Especially when he wanted to – well. Dip his toe into something Emma would never approve of. The covenstead felt like a safer place to explore those private desires.

If he wanted to go deeper, he had to let himself fall.

“You know,” Elsa was saying “if you would like to participate rather than just observe, we’d be happy to invite you to join us.”

For a moment he could see it; himself, sat on cushions with the rest of the group, palms up and eyes closed and waiting for wonders to begin again.

The image immediately fell apart as visions began to swim of a pentagram penned in black marker, scattered salt and a dagger rising above the swell of a storm.

This was the bargain.

“Oh,” Killian let out uneasily, trying to find the best way to refuse without sounding impolite. “No, that’s alright. Really.” Elsa looked a little disappointed, and he hurried to reassure her. “I’ve… had some experience with the miraculous. It didn’t exactly go well.”

Killian – Killian, don’t –!

A wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him.

“I wouldn’t say what we do here is miraculous,” Elsa replied, but he could see she was quietly pleased by the comparison. Awkwardness settled like dust between them, neither considering the conversation finished, but before they could continue a few people cut between them on their way out of the dining room and into the hall. They called out their goodbyes to Elsa as they passed, and she returned them warmly. Killian lingered until they were finished, fiddling with the strap on his bag.

Once they were gone, she took a step towards him.

“Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

Killian shrugged. “By all means.”

“Why is it that you come to our meetings?” she clasped her hands in front of her, in a gesture Killian couldn’t help but interpret as deliberately nonthreatening. “And if you say Anna’s fruit loaf I might believe you, but I don’t really think that’s what it is.”

The question felt like it should be impolite, loaded with a query that went beyond their unspoken arrangement; that he could come, and he could watch, and she, like the rest of the group, would leave him be – but he was uninjured by her curiosity. Curiosity was, after all, what had brought him there.

So he surprised himself by being honest.

“For… proof, I guess?” he lifted his shoulders in an uncertain shrug. “That the world is still – strange?” The way Elsa watched him, almost waiting for him to continue, made that answer feel inadequate. He cleared his throat and searched for more to offer. “I actually lost my brother, a long time ago, now – and I still don’t fully understand why. And my partner, she…”

So good of you to finally come and see me.

“She went through something I can’t even begin to comprehend. But she doesn’t like to talk about it.”

Elsa nodded slowly. “Sometimes what we don’t say speaks more for what troubles us.”

“Yeah,” Killian agreed, feeling oddly liberated by the opportunity to confide in someone. All he could think of was Emma in the dead of night, clenched tightly in their bed, her arms and knees curled against her chest as she fought darkness only she could see. “Yeah, it does.”

“Perhaps she’d like to come along to a meeting?” Elsa suggested. “There’s no obligation to partake. She could observe, as you do.”

“Oh, no. No. She hates all this stuff.”

Emma had already made clear her opinion on the covenstead in Bellevue, she was not interested; and he felt compelled to apologise on her behalf, seeing as they were all perfectly good people who had done nothing to offend her.

“It’s just — that something, I mentioned,” he offered. “Thank you, though. I appreciate it.”

“Well,” Elsa spread her hands. It was neither here nor there to her, he was sure. She couldn’t offer help to someone who didn’t want to receive it. “Have a good week, Killian. Will we be seeing you at our Litha celebration?”

Litha, Killian had learnt, was the wicca celebration of Midsummer, which took place on the summer solstice at the end of June. It traditionally heralded the beginning of summer, with its focus on fertility and the championing of light over darkness manifesting in the longest day of the year. The coven had planned an evening full of festivities including a large bonfire, an almost drastic amount of food and a lot of promised general merriment. Elsa had said last year two among their number had decided to spontaneously marry during the festival; in their eyes, the perfect way to celebrate new life and regeneration.

It sounded like a lot of fun. In the bleak, uninspiring, greyscape that Seattle had become to him in the last two months, it was a breath of life and the outdoors that he would be grateful for.

But he wasn’t really sure if he should. Especially with – well. With Emma.

“Sure,” he said, just to be polite. “If I can get away. That would be nice.”

He meant it. Elsa smiled understandingly, as if she knew he had no clear intention of attending but would let him maintain the charade for the sake of pleasant company – she was kind, and she didn’t really know him, but she had still invited him into her home without a single caveat. The coven respected her. Killian would like nothing more than to introduce her to Emma; he was sure whatever she refused to talk to him about she could bring before the other woman without fear of shame or regret, or whatever else she must think would come from Killian that prevented her from being honest.

Not that he was being entirely honest with her, either; she knew he came to the covenstead more often than their weekly meetings, but she didn’t know what he had been trying to do there. She couldn’t know. It was better she focused on the future, on the path ahead, on the fact that she was free, now, from the nightmare behind them.

It was lonely, he had come to realise, being the only one with unfinished business.

Clear night, isn’t it?

“Elsa, wait,” he said, before he could think better of it. A jolt of nervous energy ran through him, his feet squaring imperceptibly on the laminate floor beneath him as if they were ready to run, but he forced himself to stay where he was. “Actually, I’ve… for the last few weeks, I’ve been trying to scry.”

Elsa’s eyebrows shot upwards.

He could understand her surprise, given he had shown no interest in participating in any of the wicca crafts since he had started coming to the Bellevue covenstead. Scrying was something he had only really read about, but never seen performed; it was the practice of, at its core, looking into a suitable medium in the hope of detecting significant messages of visions. While the most notorious method of which remained fortunes told over crystal balls, the history of the craft extended far beyond recent iterations of neopaganism. Cultures as far back as ancient Egyptians and Babylonians had practiced scrying by gazing into stone dishes filled with palm oil.

Killian had never really bought into it – but its existence as a medium through which he might gain some insight had been too tempting not to at least attempt, and the results were, well. Inconclusive.

He stumbled over himself to continue. “I usually try at night, and mostly with rainwater, as I’ve heard that’s more potent? But I’ve also tried with tap water, and mirrors, too. But I’m finding it difficult to find direction.” He shrugged helplessly; his mouth felt bone dry. “It’s like staring out into silt.”

“Scrying is a challenging craft,” Elsa confirmed. “What is it you’re trying to see?”

He hesitated. Not just because he was reluctant to confirm the details for fear of sounding – well. Halfway to crazy town, as Emma would put it, but it was also this: he didn’t want Elsa to be part of it. Any of it. If he could protect one more person from the demons in his past, he would prefer to do so.

“I’ve… been having this dream,” he answered carefully. “A nightmare, really. It makes me worry someone might be in trouble because of something I didn’t finish.”

Come. Listen.

The quiet truth knocked gently. They had been naïve to assume it was over.

Elsa hummed thoughtfully. “Often, dreams are just manifestations of our anxieties –”

“This is different,” he said firmly. “I can feel it.”

Killian didn’t sleep the way Emma slept, treading that breathless line between the waking world and the rest, fumbling in those in-between spaces, sometimes needing help discerning where the truest threads of herself should lie. They had developed a number of strategies for her, routines to perform while waking to know she was no longer asleep; listing the objects she could see and smell and taste as chief among them. Anything to help her cling to the world above and pull her out.

Killian did not sleep that way. The delineation for him was clear.

Which was how he knew this was more than just a nightmare.

Elsa seemed to take his confidence at his word, and instead turned her attention back to the wider room.

“Tink, would you come over here?”

Tink was not her name, but nobody ever called her anything else, so Tink was what Killian had come to know her by. Her features were sharp, her wit just as cutting, and she had made a point of behaving as indifferently to him as possible in a way he found both frustrating and a little refreshing – somebody else acting like he didn’t belong there helped remind him he was separate, he was apart from all this. Currently, she stood looking exceptionally guilty by the dining table, three small cupcakes placed precariously on top of each other and clearly about to be tucked away in some tupperware for her return journey. Killian didn’t blame her. The lemon cakes were always especially divine.

“Tink is our resident expert on divining arts,” Elsa informed him after spotting his rather put out expression. In a few moments, Tink had joined them. “Killian has been trying to scry but hasn’t had a lot of luck.”

Tink wrinkled her nose. “Nasty business, scrying. Wouldn’t bother.”

“I’ve been having this dream I’m trying to –”

“Oh, boy. It’s amateur hour. Trouble with dreams, go see an oneiromancer. Or a therapist.”

Killian bit back a retort; he was somewhat regretting the decision to come clean already.

“Killian believes this is more than a dream,” Elsa spoke quietly, but firmly, “and it’s not our business to interpret another’s instincts. We were hoping you could provide some insight.”

When Tink turned her shrewd eyes onto him, he merely lifted a shoulder in a helpless gesture. “You said it,” he pointed at himself, “amateur hour.”

Tink looked immensely reluctant, but as her gaze flickered between Elsa’s imploring request and Killian’s discomfort, she finally heaved a defeated sigh.

“Agh, shit.”

She took a bite out of a lemon cake.

Through chews, she carried on.

“Catch me up. What’ve you tried so far?”

-/-

The quiet blip of a notification turned Emma’s attention away from the window and back to her laptop. She smirked triumphantly – finally some good news.

“There you are,” she muttered, “sneaky bastard.”

She and Killian had been tracking down the same skip for a few days – so far none of their usual tactics could draw him out, but his credit card had just been used at a convenience store around the corner from his previous place of employment. The first time she had gone to that office she’d had a feeling everybody was behaving just a little shady. Now she knew she was right to be suspicious and resolved to pay them another visit in the morning, provided Killian was alright with it.

Well, she corrected, only if she decided to give Killian a say. Emma’s gaze skimmed the empty flat. If he wanted to spend the night messing around with delusional, self-proclaimed witches, then she got to make the work decisions by herself.

She gritted her teeth at the thought of the house in Bellevue Killian liked to retreat to these days; why couldn’t he have joined a local rec team or found some obnoxious new drinking buddies like a normal guy? The group at Bellevue were all just a bunch of tree-huggers, even worse than Regina. Emma knew what real magic was. And it wasn’t dancing around a field wearing flower crowns or mumbling limericks over a cauldron.

Emma quickly jotted down the address and the details regarding the skip’s purchase. It usually helped to be able to throw everything in her arsenal at getting past the front desk of any office. Bail bonds was a career she and Killian had fallen into almost accidentally – it suited the nomadic lifestyle they preferred, and blended Emma’s instincts for catching someone in a lie and Killian’s propensity towards investigation quite well. It just worked. And they needed some way to get food on the table.

David had offered them work at the veterinary shelter more times than she could count, but she was sure that had a lot more to do with wanting them to stay back home in Storybrooke than anything else. But Storybrooke couldn’t be for them what it was to him and Mary Margaret, and Regina; not anymore. There were too many splintered memories. Not to mention half the town still thought Killian had kidnapped her and kept her in a cave somewhere for five years. The lines had to be carefully drawn.

The notes for their appeal were sat in a haphazard clump behind the laptop, and the stack looked exactly how Emma felt about it; worn, sad, and a little flustered. It had only been a few days, but something about the disappointment at the DMV left her feeling wrecked and restless all it once. It didn’t feel over, but whenever she thought about burying herself back in the endless bureaucratic process all she wanted to do was hit the pavement and not stop running until she fell off the corner of the map. She wanted to be outside. Balmy air drifted in through the open window, coloured by the frustrated yelps and the gentle roar of cars in the busy evening.

She paused, listening for the familiar growl of Killian’s Chevelle. Nothing.

With a jolt, she realised her pen was still in her hand and had been working idly against the paper. She peered over at the notepad, hoping she hadn’t doodled over her notes about the credit card – and nearly knocked over the laptop as she jerked backwards.

Scribbled over every inch of the page, completely obscuring anything underneath it, she had written her name. Over and over.

In a twisted, medieval cursive she had only ever seen in one other place.

Emma Swan Emma Swan Emma Swan Emma

The dagger swam into focus, and Emma resisted the urge to retch, clutching tightly at the desk in front of her with her left hand. Her right lay motionless across its surface, a foreign object to her now, a traitor which had scrawled out the pall that nestled around her shoulders and given it physical form. It was disquieting enough to see it there, a restless dream broken out, but only more disturbing to not remember having put it there.

She stood abruptly. Tore the page free, scrunched it up with that now untrustworthy hand, and dropped it down onto the floor.

Leaving the laptop open, she stalked out of the bedroom and across the hall to their tiny kitchen, determined to regain some control over the course of the evening, constantly clenching and unclenching her hand into a fist at her side. The kitchen was little more than two counters facing each other atop a strip of gaudy orange tiles with barely enough space for one person to pass by another, but they managed. They had never needed a lot of space, and their budget hadn’t been able to stretch particularly far. If they hadn’t needed a permanent address in order to submit the public records request, she probably would have made a case for sleeping in the Chevelle somewhere once they made it to the city.

Still, Killian had pointed out there was something nice about having a home base that wasn’t just the backseat of a car, and his suggestive glances at the bed when the realtor had taken them round had not gone unnoticed. Or unappreciated.

It was just – right then, especially without him in it, she didn’t want it. The lack of furniture, of personal affects, the rumpled sheets and the cracked plaster walls made it a gaping hole of something desolate and harsh. The jaws of something wanting in the shape of four walls and a door with a barely functional lock. She longed for the Chevelle and the torn leather seats, for something wild and alive.

At night Seattle burnt, and Emma yearned for home.

Not to mention it rained all the fucking time.

The door to the flat opened and closed, and Emma called out a greeting as she poured herself a glass of water. Killian didn’t reply. Assuming he had his headphones on, Emma allowed herself a few moments to breathe. She’d tell him about the credit card alert, let him know she was going by the skip’s office again in the morning and he could come along if he wanted, but she probably wouldn’t need the backup. Cornering a skip somewhere surrounded by friends and colleagues usually made them more amenable to coming quietly. Then she would ask as politely as she could manage about his evening and try not look too sour if he used the word covenstead again, instead of big fucking house.

Emma emerged from the kitchen, but he wasn’t setting his bag down in the sitting room like she was expecting him to be. Frowning, Emma re-entered the bedroom, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Her right hand twitched.

It felt numb, like she had been holding it in cold water for a few minutes. She could barely feel her other hand when she brushed her palms together, just the whisper of a touch instead of skin.

Her phone buzzed with an incoming text from Killian.

Leaving now – should be 30mins. Stopping for snacks. Want anything?

Behind her, the door into the kitchen creaked, and the tap started to run.

Her mind rang with the dull truth slowly, like a bell tolling at dusk.

Someone had turned the tap on.

Killian wasn’t home.

Someone had turned the tap on.

Killian wasn’t home.

Her heart stuttered against her ribcage.

Immediately searching for anything she could use as a weapon, Emma darted back over to her desk to reach for one of the hardback file folders they used for work, but as she leant across to reach for it she froze.

Her laptop had been closed, and on top of it placed a clumsily straightened, crumpled bit of paper.

Her mouth went dry at its familiar script.

Emma Swan Emma Swan Emma Swan Emma Swan Emma

Still through the doorway came the splurge from the rapidly filling kitchen sink, and Emma began to panic. She couldn’t go out there. Not now. Not now she couldn’t know, couldn’t be sure if there was anyone there to find or if she had unknowingly slipped back into sleep and this was just another spill. Her feet were frozen, dug in like anxious roots into earth, while her attention remained fixed on the hallway for every single sound or breath of movement.

As quietly as she could, Emma closed the door to the bedroom. For good measure, she grabbed the desk chair and hooked it under the handle so it couldn’t turn, the noise masked by the water as it began to sluice over the side of the sink and splatter onto the floor of the kitchen.

Then she waited.

Was she dreaming?

It didn’t feel like a dream – but then, they never did. Her pulse raced, her skin felt cold even though her senses were telling her the flat was warm, hot, but she daren’t start mumbling aloud the objects she could discern as being real just in case it heard her. It. Already something had taken shape in her mind.

It liked to stop by, every now and then, just so she didn’t forget.

It wasn’t long before the noises grew louder. With the steady stream of water came the slap of footsteps through the puddle, of the flat soles of smart shoes pacing restlessly back and forth across her kitchen, the smack of cupboards being flung open and slammed shut again.

Not here, she thought, desperately, not when I’m alone.

Then Killian called her.

The sudden loud buzzing surprised her, and the phone slipped out of her grasp and onto the carpet below. Dropping to her knees and scrambling to reject the call, she split her attention between her frantic efforts and the blocked door, hoping against hope that it hadn’t heard, that it wouldn’t –

The door handle squeaked, stopping short when it was met with resistance from the chair.

When she was seven, there had been a month or so she had avoided being alone in her bedroom as often as possible. Not, she had insisted to Archie, because she was scared, but of course, really she had been terrified. It was a new room, colder, bigger, and the first one she hadn’t shared for as long as she could remember. For so long, all she could imagine was that one day the door would lock with her inside it, and nobody would ever come back for her or care at all that she was alone in there.

After weeks of creative avoidance strategies, Archie had finally wheedled the truth out of her, and had removed the lock the very next day. Then they had spent time drawing maps of the group home together, doodling creative means for her escape from that room until she was convinced that even if the door locked, it would be pretty easy to build a hang glider out of a kite and make a break for it through the window.

Nobody can control this door except you, Emma.

Only these days, she had built the lock herself. She checked a hundred times a day that it was still secure. She buried herself behind it and when the cracks had started to form, she had piled up bricks instead.

The handle creaked again.

A desperate, fearful sound ripped itself from somewhere deep inside her chest and she stumbled backwards, reaching for anything, wanting the maps, the exit strategies, everything she had burnt the day she decided it was more important to keep things out than avoid leaving herself trapped in.

The door to the bedroom rattled against its hinges.

Thump. Again. Thump.

Her fumbling hands fell on the door to the closet, and she hauled it open and ducked inside before she could think twice. She was breathing hard, her chest ached with the force of it. It smelt of black leather and mildew inside, and once she pushed through coats and her back hit the wall, she slid down onto the floor.

Once inside, the noises stopped.

Just, stopped. Like she had stepped out of an airlock, and all she could hear now was the hard, accelerated huff of her own breathing.

Was it still out there?

Like she was seven again, she pulled her knees up to her chest. She told herself it was just like when she and Killian used to play sardines with the other kids at the group home; exploring dark, gaping crevices until they could melt into its very walls. She had been older, then. Escape was all rationalisation, she didn’t need the maps. Keeping herself hidden meant just shutting her eyes and forcing it all out of her mind until she made herself unreachable.

As long as she couldn’t be seen, she couldn’t be caught.

Something in her twinged, something that ached for wide, open streets and a crumbling clocktower, for long conversations over steaming coffee and the vermillion kiss of the New England fall. Seattle was just unrelenting, torrid heat. Noise and noise and noise and more ceaseless, callous noise. And Killian’s coats smelt like midsummer rain and spluttering exhaust fumes in heavy traffic.

She couldn’t remember calling David, but she was glad when he answered.

“My new assistant is pteronophobic,” he sighed heavily, by way of greeting.

The words sounded like nonsense to her, but she couldn’t discern if that was because they were, or because she didn’t feel like she could trust her senses anymore.

“Terr— what?”

“Pteronophobic. She’s pteronophobic.”

Emma pressed herself as far back into the wall as she could go, curling tightly away from the door.

She tried to focus on the call. “So… she’s a dinosaur?”

David snorted. “It’s a phobia of being tickled by feathers. Isn’t that ridiculous?” He clicked his tongue. “Actually, what’s ridiculous is that she knew this about herself, yet she applied for a job at a veterinary shelter.”

“Is this your way of telling me you’re the idiot that hired an assistant who’s scared of birds?”

“Feathers. And their proclivity for tickling.” She could hear him smiling down the phone, and already the pressure in her chest began to lessen. “Anyway, what’s up?”

Emma bit her lip. “Nothing, I just…” With a start, she realised the time and was amazed he had picked up at all. “Isn’t it nearly midnight over there?”

“You don’t call enough,” he reproached, but she could hear the tease in his voice. “This is like positive reinforcement.”

“How’s Ruth?”

There was a pause, a barely audible sigh. Gently, he repeated: “You don’t call enough.”

She could feel herself becoming more aware of herself, of her limbs tangled tightly at the bottom of the closet, of her hair sticking to the back of her neck, in a way that let her know that if she had drifted, she was returning now. It was nearly over.

“She misses you,” David added, “that’s all. So do we.”

“Me too,” Emma frowned, trying to remember the last time she had called anybody from Storybrooke. She had called after they got to Seattle, hadn’t she? How – how long ago was that? “Sorry.”

David made a dismissive noise, and as he always did, he forgave her.

“Everything good with Killian?”

Something in her chest squeezed as she remembered the call she had rejected.

“It’s fine,” she said, and tried to sound convincing, “I’m fine.” He didn’t have to know she was talking to him from the floor of a closet. “I just… wanted to hear your voice.”

For a little while, David said nothing. It was nice to just hear him breathe.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Emma smiled weakly, even though she knew he couldn’t see it. “Yeah.”

“Y’know, if it’s just that you’re afraid you’ll miss Seattle, I could set up the hose at the end of Mom’s porch and you’re welcome to stand under it whenever.”

“Wow, how generous,” she snorted. “It’s really more of a near constant moistness than always rain, though.”

“Or we could buy you a Subaru? You could sit in it and vape a Starbucks, or whatever it is you do there.”

“I honestly don’t know what to say to that.”

For a few moments they just laughed, until they petered back out into quiet. Emma thought about Killian returning home soon, and the fact that she really didn’t want him to find her in the closet.

“Listen, um… I have to go. I’ll call more,” she promised.

David hummed on the other end of the line. “I hope you do.”

She felt calmer now as she disconnected the call, her heartbeat still clear in her ears but a steady pound, almost reassuring, not racing away without her. With fresher eyes, she nudged open the door to the closet and edged her way out slowly. The bedroom door was still closed, the desk chair propped up against it, but the only sound she could hear was the humming of her laptop on standby and the noise drifting up from the street through the open window.

Carefully, she removed the chair and shut the window. Then she sunk down into bed, into the quiet, and buried herself beneath the covers. She felt like she had run a marathon, her muscles ached in the aftermath of pumped adrenaline, and all her body wanted to do was rest.

She didn’t realise until Killian got home, but she had forgotten about the flooded kitchen. She heard him pause in the hallway, then the patter of his boots on the sodden tiles. Once realisation struck, her entire body burned when she wondered what he must be thinking, thinking of her, her skin hot with humiliation. But he didn’t comment on it, at least not that she could hear. Instead she heard him pulling out the mop and bucket and cleaning it up.

She wanted to join him, she just couldn’t muster the willpower.

A passing thought occurred to her then, the meekest of suggestions, now that rational thought had crept back in.

Had she just left the tap on?

After a few minutes she heard Killian enter the bedroom, but he didn’t switch on the light. Instead he slid into bed beside her, still clothed, and curled himself around her as tightly as he could manage. Something in her relaxed, as it always did, a muscle coming unclenched as she sank into the safety of his arms.

This, she knew. This was always real.

He kissed her shoulder, and he didn’t say a single word.

She loved him for it, and she hated him a little for it, too.

#jay writes #the wind blows white #cs halloweek #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan #cs au #halloweek #killian jones #emma swan #fingers crossed you all like it!

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