#they get called that because their motto is 'blood for blood' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

radiant-reid · 2 years

Text

Back To You

Summary: Spencer never thought she would love him the way he loves her, but he also never thought she would come back from the dead

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Angst/Fluff)

Content warning: description of reader being beaten up, similar to how Emily was in Lauren, lots of talk about death, mentions of blood, mentions of previous BAU related injuries

Word Count: 5.3k

Masterlist Navigation

It was a slippery slope. One day, Y/n was fine, loving the work she did for the BAU, knowing who the bad guys were, and having a family she completely trusted. Then, her world was turned upside down with one simple phone call.

Suddenly, she wasn't cozy at the top of the mountain, she was skiing down it without poles or bindings. Nothing to keep her safe, no helmet or goggles. Nothing to keep her comfortable, no gloves, ski jacket, or pants.

It was just her, alone on her skis, terrified and alone.

Spencer noticed as soon as she rejected an offer to go out to her favorite restaurant after they got back from a case. Even when they were exhausted and had gone days without sleeping, neither of them declined the opportunity to spend time together. And when Spencer couldn't come up with something he'd done wrong, he realized there must be something wrong with her.

Then there were the suspicious phone calls, the darkening circles around her eyes, the paranoia she'd started displaying, the long lunches, the general pulling away from the team.

No one else noticed, and when he tried to raise it, it only resulted in JJ and Morgan teasing him about being in love with her, something he couldn't deny.

He'd stopped lying to himself about their friendship a long time ago. The line in the sand had been drawn the day they met and stepped over 39 seconds later when she smiled at him.

The problem was, he could never get the words out, and when she started pulling away, it felt even less likely that his feelings were reciprocated. Maybe, Penelope had babbled about his crush and she was trying to let him down gently rather than smash his heart.

Surely, he thought on those long nights he spent awake, she would tell him if something was wrong.

But she never did.

Not until it was too late.

He races into that cold, dark building with only one goal. He's going to be the hero she needs, get her out of the dire situation he now understood, and once she'd recovered, tell her everything.

Y/n mumbles out his name when she sees him. Laying on the concrete floor with what-are-sure-to-be bruises developing on her face, blood gushing out of her nose, and, worst of all, a massive stick sticking out of her abdomen.

Major abdominal wound, units of O negative blood on stand-by, potential organ penetration. His brain runs through the scientificness of it all, trying to stay objective and not fall apart as he watches the girl he loves in a life-threatening situation.

He's praying, to a God he doesn't believe exists, that the dizziness from all that blood loss is making the pain lessen.

"Y/n, hey, you're going to be okay." He comforts her first before calling out to Morgan and the other agents clearing the building. "She's in here!" His voice is just as desperate when he pleads for a medic into his comms.

"Spence, I'm sorry." She apologizes, barely there.

He knows just how bad it is, and he wishes he wasn't a genius with a Ph.D. in Mathematics because he can work out the probability of this situation ending well. It's low.

The pain is completely overwhelming, worse than anything she's felt before, but she's not crying out from it. All her strength is gone, and her eyes threaten to close. She's fighting it, repeating a motto to keep herself awake. If she's going to get a chance to tell Spencer how she feels, she's going to have to keep her consciousness.

"Hey, come on," Spencer says, trying to keep her awake while he holds his hands over her wound to stop some of the blood.

It's futile.

There's so much of the sticky warm liquid and the alarm bells that should be going off in a germaphobes head are quiet.

Her hands are shaking around his, cold too, and her face pales quickly, all the color and life draining from her in front of his eyes.

"Just stay with me." He pleads, hating every second of this. He knows what being close to death looks like, and this is it. "Focus on my voice, Y/n, and keep your eyes open." It's all she is focused on. The sounds and lights around them are drowned out in favor of looking into his eyes, listening to his voice, feeling his hands, and smelling his cologne. But each of those senses are fading, numb as the feeling in her body diminishes.

"For me." He adds the last bit as a final motivator.

"I'm sorry." She tries again, voice barely a whisper. The slippery slope is even worse this time, she realizes when her vision darkens. It's not gradual- with a threat she has a chance at beating- instead, and although it doesn't feel like it, this is quick, and no amount of profiling is going to help her beat blood loss. "It killed me to lie to you."

It truly did. Every day since Doyle escaped, she'd wanted to tell Spencer and the team, and ask them for help, but the loyalty she had to her former team took precedent. It was a decision she's regretting.

"It's okay, I promise, it's okay," Spencer tells her. "You're so brave for what you did. You're so fearless and kind and intelligent." The light of hope in him darkens when her eyes flutter shut and her breathing gets impossibly shallower. "And you've really got to stay awake for me."

"Just thinking." Y/n mumbles, her thoughts slowing down and she struggles to process any information.

Spencer nods rapidly in approval. "Good, keep thinking, think about whatever you want to keep that beautiful brain of yours going."

"I like to think... that in another world we had a chance to be happy." She confesses, and he sees tears fall down her cheek for the first time since he found her. "Together."

The tears in his eyes get choked back because he doesn't want to make it about him. There's nothing more he wants than that with her alive and well.

"We can have that." He encourages her, although he's not sure if he's trying to convince her of it or reassurance himself. All his attention is on her, not listening to Morgan shouting for a medic 10 feet away. "And when you're all better, we can go out. Wherever you want."

The tiredness starts to set in more than before, and it's worse than the 60 hours she stayed up on a case once. Everything inside her is trying to fight but she's all out of energy.

It's time.

Spencer watches it in front of him, helpless. She's too far gone when she can't fight anymore, drained... and dead. He can't check her pulse to know for sure but he's seen the life slip out of unsubs' bodies and it just happened to her.

He holds her just as tightly, pressing against her wound and clutching her body to his chest. "Just squeeze my hand, I need to know you're in there." He pleads. "We can have everything you want in the future. Kids, dogs, a big house, a little cottage, even a house by the beach. I really don't care where we live, honestly." He's not sure why he's so stuck on one detail for the fantasy. Maybe it's the domesticity that living together could bring. Waking up next to her every day was a dream that feels like it's slipping away. "I'll build you a house if I have to."

She's not there. The light inside her has been flicked off just like that. Not even a faint smile or the rising and falling of her chest. She's dead, and he knows it.

"Y/n, come on, stay with me!" He begs again, shooting Morgan a terrified glance. He's still frantically demanding a medic, but it doesn't seem like anyone can come fast enough. He needs to try it out once because he knows he's never going to get another chance. He'll never love anyone the way he loves her. It comes out in a broken whisper as he sobs for the first time. "I love you."

The medics come a few seconds later, and Spencer would later reflect on that moment, wondering why they hadn't driven faster.

Morgan practically has to pull Spencer off her, even though Spencer knows there's not a lot more he can do for her. He also knows there's not a lot they can do, but he's clinging to hope and praying for a miracle.

He stands there, frozen in shock, while they frantically work around Y/n and put her on a gurney. The look on his face is blank, so pale that Morgan's worried he's going to faint. Even when she's gone, he stays standing looking at where she laid.

"Spencer." Morgan places a hand on his friend's shoulder, grounding him so he doesn't have to catch him when he passes out. "She's with the people that can help her the most."

Spencer tries to suck in a deep breath of air but it doesn't feel like any oxygen is getting to his lungs. His hands are still covered in her blood and he can't seem to wipe it away on his shirt.

"She'll be okay." Morgan tries to assure him.

"No." Spencer shakes his head. "She was gone, Derek. Gone!" Just like that, he's at anger, running his hand through his hair roughly. It's an easier emotion to feel than sadness. "If we had just gotten here five minutes earlier, if the medic didn't take so fucking long, she might have a chance."

Morgan has never heard him swear before, and it sounds wrong coming out of Spencer's mouth. "We need to go to the hospital. She's going to want to see you when she wakes up."

The comforting words are something Spencer thinks about for weeks after that night. They barely registered when Morgan said them but he wonders those nights if they were genuine, if Morgan really thought she'd make it.

Spencer can't stop pacing in the hospital. He's cleaned up a little bit, changed into the shirt Penelope grabbed from his place, and washed her blood off his hands.

He could add up how far he has walked if his brain would work. Even facts are working for him. All he can think about is the memories he has with her and how the world wouldn't have a purpose without her.

The team has been shooting him sympathetic looks, but they're all suffering from the same daunting feeling. They're hoping and praying and sitting with emotionless faces. There's no talking between them just Penelope's sobs and the bustling noises of a busy hospital.

Spencer kind of wishes he could cry. He can't seem to actualize how he's feeling. Nothing helps.

It seems like hours of numbness before anything happens. Everyone else had moved seats, stood up or sat down, drunk coffee, or tried to brave food. Everyone except Spencer. The only moving he's done is the marathon he's walked.

Then JJ walks out. And the worst news she's ever brought him before then was that the bakery didn't have chocolate frosted with sprinkles donuts.

Until she locks eyes with him and just stares at him for a few seconds with blood-shocked eyes. No words are needed, but she confirms Spencer's worst nightmare verbally too. "She never made it off the table."

Instantly, the waiting room is filled with tears, like a chain reaction starting with Penelope and ending with Rossi. Everyone's crying, something none of them have ever seen before.

He had been hoping, even if he was simultaneously trying to convince himself there was no point.

Hope: a human instinct.

Survivor bias had overclouded his judgment. He had been held hostage and tortured for days while drugged, then poisoned with a lethal strain of Anthrax, Elle had been shot and then had the wound played with, Penelope had been shot in the chest, and Hotch had been stabbed and left for dead overnight. The BAU was immortal. They always pull through, or so he thought.

It's all far too overwhelming, and he attempts to rush out of the room to find a quiet place to sob, but JJ catches his arm.

"Spence." She says in the kind of sympathetic tone reserved for times one knows their words won't be of comfort.

"It's not fair." He mumbles, not ready to share Y/n's deeply personal last words and his subsequent confession.

There's another thing he doesn't say because he knows JJ knows it already: if he ever finds Ian Doyle, he'll break his oath.

She nods in understanding, wrapping her arms around him to console him. But she doesn't understand. "I'm so sorry." She tells him as she holds him tightly.

Spencer reciprocates the hug, but it doesn't help him at all. The love of his life is gone. There's no saving her that can be done. She's dead, and she's never coming back, and Spencer's never going to get to have all those special moments he wants to have with her.

In this universe, they'll never be together.

He's not sure how long he hugs JJ, but the whole time he can't get the picture of Y/n's dead body out of his head. It's so persistent that when they pull away, he rushes to press his palms into his eyes and massage it out.

Hotch looks like he's going to say something, remind him he'll be able to love again, but Spencer's going to know he's lying. So he just pulls Spencer in for a hug.

In the mental chaos, he loses track of JJ and Hotch and cries while he hugs Penelope. That night, all the team does is cry and hold each other.

If losing her is the worst day of his life, burying her comes in a close second. He keeps looking around for her, but he's been doing that since they left the hospital. He hasn't eaten or slept since then, only had the coffees with sugar JJ forced into him, and he's still trying to remember to talk about her in the past tense.

He's so dehydrated, and he's cried so many tears that he's not sure how he manages more for her funeral. It's warm outside, but he still feels as cold as he felt the night she died inside.

The seven of them stand around her coffin with roses, and if he had the words, he would tell them all about how little she liked roses, that she would have preferred tulips: the symbol of perfect love.

When it's his turn, he kisses his fingertips before touching them to the cold wood. Then, he places the flower down, knowing it, too, will die.

It didn't take seven whole months for Spencer to know he wasn't ever going to be able to stop thinking about her. He knew that the night she died, but what he couldn't imagine then was that it would get easier and that he would feel guilt because of that.

The hours of therapy helped- much more than the therapy he got when his dad left- and so did having the team.

At some point, he didn't spend every day in tears. He started getting out of bed and throwing himself into his work again, but he still had those little moments with her in his dreams or before he remembered reality when he woke up.

Then, another curveball came, and he's forced back into thinking about her when Morgan reveals all he had been working on regarding Declan Doyle's whereabouts.

There's an unspoken promise he makes to himself to make sure Y/n's sacrifice wasn't in vain. He's going to save that little boy, and it is transference because he couldn't save her.

Focused as ever, he goes into that house with Rossi, clearing each room silently as they search for the boy worth dying for.

He's grateful when he gets the call they have Ian Doyle in custody. Not only because it means Declan's got a better chance of being recovered alive and someone's going to pay for what happened to Y/n, but because he knows that if he were on the rooftop, he would have beat Doyle to death.

He can't even look at Doyle through the two-way mirror when they're back at the BAU, but he's so glad there are developing bruises on the murderer's face. After throwing up to the memory of Y/n's developing bruises, he splashes water on his face in the bathroom and does the breathing exercises he's been taught so as to not spiral.

But Doyle doesn't know where Declan is, and they're in a world of problems again. They need a Hail Mary, and Spencer knows the course of action with the highest probability of effective recovery of Declan.

But it's Hotch who's ready to play his trump card first.

"Everybody have a seat." He orders, and it's weird for Spencer to hear his voice after so long, but it's also comforting.

The team's back together again, but she's still missing, and he misses her more when they're working on a case she used to be on. He misses her in that way when he reads reports with her name.

But the atmosphere quickly shifts. In one breath, it's as serious as that night at the hospital. Spencer's heart starts racing like it did before they found Y/n bleeding out that night. There's a thumping in his chest so loud that his body is threatening to make him throw up again, that sick feeling extending exponentially.

Spencer only catches keywords as he hyperventilates. "A lot of blood," "stabilize," "airlifted," "Bethesda," "need-to-know," "reassigned," "several identities."

He puts it together before it really registers in his brain, but it doesn't hit him fully until Penelope asks, "She's alive?"

The logistics of it fly through his head and questions go off like alarm bells. Who knew? Where is she now? How? Where has she been? Is she okay? Why couldn't he know? Was all of it a lie?

He's glad when Morgan starts to lay into Hotch, knowing he can't speak right now, let alone tell Hotch how he really feels.

But everything stops again when Penelope's mouth drops open, his head whips around, and Y/n walks in.

The first person she asks for when she wakes up is Spencer. She wants Spencer at her bedside because seeing him will numb the immense pain in her abdomen.

Instead, it's JJ in the chair next to the hospital bed. "JJ." She mumbles, getting her friend's attention.

JJ hands her a glass of water and doesn't wait to give her a hug. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"Me too. Thank you. Can you get Spence?" Y/n asks, although she's not trying to make it seem like she's ungrateful JJ is there.

"Yeah, of course." JJ agrees, but when she walks out of the room, she doesn't come back with Spencer, she comes back with Hotch.

The unit chief sits down in the seat JJ was sitting in and Y/n's alarmed by it because he almost always stays standing. "You're not in Boston, you're in Bethesda." He tells her.

She assumes JJ's nervous face is a precursor for the trouble she's about to be ine. "Hotch, I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I should have as soon as Doyle was mentioned. Actually, I should have told you the entire history soon as I knew Doyle had escaped in Russia." She launches into an apology.

Hotch stops her with a hand on her shoulder. "Y/n, it's okay." He assures her.

It should comfort her but it only makes her worry more about what's making JJ so cagey. "What's wrong?"

"As long as Doyle's out there, you're not safe." He says, easing her worrying taking precedence over bedside manner. She nods in agreement. She's not in the hospital because Doyle's a good guy. "You can't come back to your old life."

"Witness protection?" She cuts him off, too anxious to find out what's happening to her.

"Reassignment overseas." He states her fate, and just like that, the pain in her stomach doubles as her mind spirals. She can't breathe deeply anyway, but it's even harder now. "You'll be in Paris with several identities even we don't know."

It hits her then that only Hotch and JJ are in the hospital room with her and that Spencer would be there if he knew. He would hold her hand through the tough news and say goodbye properly.

She would later scoff at the irony of it being Paris, the City of Love, since she's not allowed to talk to the person she loves. A person who thinks she's dead.

"They don't know." She realizes, a stream of silent tears starting down her cheeks.

"They can't," JJ tells her, stepping away from the door and closer to the bed to hold her hand.

Y/n shakes her head firmly, looking at Hotch with pleading eyes. "No, please, no." She knows it would break Spencer, but it's also breaking her.

"I'm sorry," Hotch says, and it looks like he genuinely means it. He knows better than anyone how hard it is to lose someone you're in love with, and now it has to happen to two members of his team. "I take full responsibility for the decision, but it has to be this way."

"What do they think happened?" She asks quietly, trying to wipe up some of the tears, and put on a brave face.

"That you died on the operating table," JJ tells her, only so Hotch doesn't have to. "It's need-to-know."

Y/n's eyes rapidly dart over to Hotch, who had already accepted blame. "No, Hotch, they're need-to-know. They have to be. Spencer, he-" She can't even get the last words out with her crying, and JJ pulls her into an awkward hug to console her.

"He'll be okay," Hotch assures her, but JJ's a much worse liar and the look on her face tells the concern she has for Spencer's broken heart.

The whole plane to Paris, Y/n cries. She's grateful it's a private jet and that she's alive, but there's a lot to be desired. Trying not to think about Spencer is challenging, and it's a different feeling than she had when she would try not to think about him while falling asleep at night.

JJ's comfort only goes so far, and details are missing from her story about the nights Spencer comes over to her place to cry.

When they separate, Y/n's only wish is for her to keep Spencer safe.

The call comes in to come back- that it's safe and Doyle's been caught- after 7 long months. Of course, there was work to do, and it's what she spent most of her time doing, but it's the loneliest she's ever been. She clings to the house Spencer told her about before she blacked out and the fantasy worlds she had created in her head.

She would take being home in DC over the bank accounts full of money she was given any day.

However, when she gets back to DC, there are about a million more places she'd rather be than about to see the team. She loves them so much, and it dawns on her as she gets in the elevator that they might not love her once they find out what she had to do.

The bullpen looks the same, aside from the fact her desk has been cleaned off. The stabbing pain in her heart is there again when she thinks about who had to clean it off.

It smells the same in that room; clean but also like coffee, paperwork, and, somehow, laughter. It's home. The memories in that room are so prominent in her mind. Birthdays, Halloweens, one Thanksgiving, late nights, early mornings, coffee drinking, cake eating, takeout Chinese.

Her legs are almost too shaky to get up the stairs, and her hands are too clammy to help by holding the railing. She can't even get a breath in or stop her heart from beating rapidly.

Hotch explains it all, holding their attention as their faces form shocked expressions. It feels so good to see them all again, alive and well, even though she knows what's about to happen. She takes a deep breath that does nothing and swallows thickly before stepping over the threshold.

Penelope notices her first, and everyone else's eyes are on her within seconds. There's shock, disbelief, and a glimmer of anger from each of them. Y/n never hated being under the spotlight, but right now, it feels like she's naked in front of an audience full of people: wholly exposed.

She looks at Spencer once she has confirmed everyone's safe, but he stares right through her like she's a ghost. Then there's a string of put-together sentences about how sorry she is and how much she missed them all and the series of warm hugs she's been longing for, each member of the team holding her tighter than usual to make sure she was really there.

Spencer's last to hug her, hesitant enough that she has to make the first move and wrap her arms around his shoulders. He tentatively hugs her back, touching her like she's made of glass.

She supposes she is shattered glass desperately being held together by glue. Hugging Spencer doesn't feel like it used to, not when he's so stiff.

They don't speak until after the trial, and it's on the advice given to him by Strauss- of all people

"Hi." She makes the first move like she's made the first move to get everyone back.

It's late, but she knows he's not going to be sleeping. She can't sleep either, not only because it's 7 am in Paris but also because of the adrenaline still pumping through her.

Still, coming to his place seems invasive.

"Come in." Spencer gestures, moving out of the way to let her in. He doesn't look happy about it, the same emotionless expression painfully on her face.

"Thanks." She accepts, stepping inside and taking off her shoes and coat.

It doesn't feel hostile but it's cold in his living room.

Y/n can't help but look around and play spot the difference. There are stacks of new books, and she knows he would have had to go to yard sales alone.

It's as tidy as it usually is, shoes neatly placed by the door, and his coat on the hook is new, unsurprising since he loves a good discount.

Morally, she shouldn't be as grateful as she is that there are no shoes or artifacts belonging to a woman.

There's a new planted pot of tulips in the corner, growing healthily, as well as a boquet of colorful tulips on the kitchen island. The other new thing is a framed map on the wall above his desk.

Still, it's so similar that she can't help but feel like she's walking into the past. This was the place she fantasized about being in most, lounging around with him on a Sunday morning or having take out on a Friday as more than friends

"They're for you." He says hoarsely, nodding towards her favorite flowers.

Y/n braves a look at him, and if his voice wasn't such a significant indicator of the fact he's been up crying, then his tear-stained cheeks, blood-shocked eyes, and dark circles are.

"Thank you." She replies but she didn't come to accept a gift.

"Do you want a drink?" He offers like they're not standing in a bubble of confrontational tension.

She shakes her head. "I just want to talk to you."

"So talk." His tone is harsh, stinging her. It breaks her heart a little, too. Clearly, it was selfish and idealistic to think she could come back and they could pick up where they left off, go back to flirting, and almost-confessions.

Her fingers drum against the countertop, and Spencer watches her awkwardness with an intense gaze.

"I'm sorry." She starts off emphasizes the apology she'd spoken to the whole team. This has to feel personal because she's so emotionally involved.

Even though it's been on her mind for so long and she's had time to imagine what she'd say, the words don't flow out the way she hoped.

"You've said that," Spencer says shortly when there aren't any more words that come out of her mouth.

"I mean it." She stresses. "I can't- I'm- I know it's so unfair, and I cannot imagine how painful it was for you and I'm so sorry for putting you through that." She rambles, failing at succinctness. Tears welled in her eyes, painfully stinging. Spencer just watches from a safe distance. "You don't have to forgive me, but I need you to know how much I wished I could tell you. I hate that I had to do that."

"I don't." Spencer's quiet voice stops her from continuing. He steps away from the other side of the kitchen island and closer to her. "I mean, I do, it was... nightmarish believing you were dead, but I'm grateful you're safe." He squeaks, as an afterthought, "I'm not mad."

She tilts her head back to avoid the tears, but it's too late. "You should be." She states, noticing the way he's still looking through her like she's not really there. "I just want you to feel something towards me again."

"I do." He assures her, reaching out to hold her hands in front of her. She's really there. Standing in front of him, it's just setting in that maybe his dreams aren't too far-fetched. "And please don't cry. I hate it when you cry."

"Sorry." She sniffles. "I really missed you, Spencer."

His hands drop hers in favor of wrapping around her waist and pulling her into his chest. "I missed you, too." He replies, breathing in the scent of her perfume and shampoo. It's the same one.

They hug right in the middle of his living room for a full minute in silence before she pulls away. "I need to know something."

"Mm?" He prompts, relishing in the feeling of having her so close again and memorizing each detail of her face.

"Before I...was out, did you say something... or did I just imagine that?" She wonders.

Spencer's worried about exactly how much she heard. Now knowing she wasn't dead, he knew there was a chance she remembered everything. "After you told me about us being together in a parallel universe, yeah."

"Were you just saying that because...?" She asks, trailing off because she really doesn't want to believe it was just for comfort.

"No." He answers, not giving her a minute to overthink it.

A little sigh of relief comes from her and then a smirk like she used to smirk at him. "I also remember the promise of a date."

He chuckles lightheartedly, but his head is deeply filled with love. "I promised I'd build you a house, Y/n."

"Maybe we'll start with a date." She suggests, snuggling into his chest again. He smelt like being at home, warmth and safety.

"Not tonight, though." He tells her. "We're going to get dressed up, go out somewhere fancy, and do this properly now that you're here and okay."

She nods in agreement, feeling like crying again at how happy she was feeling and how much she loves him. "I am okay." She agrees. "And, insider tip, you've already won me over."

That assurance was not going to stop Spencer from romancing her at every opportunity he got in the mysterious world where he managed to get her back.

Tell me what you think

Taglist

Join here

@anonymous-reading @bingereid @measure-in-pain @archer561 @la-vie-en-amour1 @cynbx @spencers-dria @hardpartybasketballshepherd @ilovespencerreidmarryme @mrsobrien888 @parahmur @averyhotchner @honkroselyn @randomwriter1021 @bunnyweasley23 @rebeccasoutlook @teenwaywardasgardian @bubb1eana1ee @icequeen6666 @are-y0u-sirius @psychomanias @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @jswessie187 @k-gallacher @morganwilliams @vaella1821 @ndubes04 @juneballoon999 @tiaras-amongst-trash @onceinadifferentdimension @criminal-reid @yikesyikesyikes95 @80strashbag @ilovespencerreidmarryme @citylights31 @ssavanessa22 @thedancingnerdmermaid @doctorspenceryeet @camreid @canadailluminate @lethpartridge @ssagube @spencerreid-mgg @nightlockcornucopia @allexthakatt @silverhetdanes @aperrywilliams @g-l-pierce @reidswhoree @beepbooptoop @silverhetdanes @kyanyakya @katiejozeisler @matthewwhore @megnotfound @80strashbag @mrsobrien888 @morganwilliams @j-cat @440mxs-wife @hueycat2004 @gspenc @icurasthefallenangel @iheartspence @ssavanessa22 @bisexual-virgin @thecraziestcrayon @katesreading @cance1medaddy @kuolonsyoja @alexlovescriminalminds @kahootlobbymusic @nomajdetective @idonotexiste @drayshadow @justalittleweirdoo @a-little-bit-of-everything19 @spencesscarf @lhhluvr @holding-on-to-my-youth @averyhotchner @mugi-chwan95 @gspenc @navs-bhat @idkbubs @mochionly @nessy-nygma @nani-2305 @casfellinlovewithhumanity @shinyanchorface @nbyrd390 @drayshadow @hot-dino-nuggies @averyhotchner @simonsbluee @collectiveuniverses @meggie-m00n @allthecolorsneverseen @sassymoon @nomajdetective @exmachina187 @exhaleli @lucymfer @stumbleonmywords @reeid @hopefullawyerfishprofessor @graktung @sir1usblacksgf @pinkcoffeecup @luckyladycreator2 @fairyellieee @malboroniightz @kateyee @corefleur @maybe-not-this @starrylang @citylights31 @baby-bi-bi-bi-yeah @ssa-uglywhore27 @kitkatkaitin @rocketxgirl @navs-bhat @bellarkeselection @strugglingtodoshit @joy-soul-gallery @venomsvl @harry-is-my-sunflower @luckyladycreator2 @egglantine23 @holding-on-to-my-youth @misselsbells06 @starrylang @lokisel @gryffi-ndor @lilibet261@idkbubs @slutalexis46 @glimmering-darling-dolly @kodiakwhiskey @rocketxgirl @mochionly @goldentournesol @xdsage @missusstark @spaceygirly1 @holding-on-to-my-youth @insomniacbeth @nbyrd390 @shirleyrose @airedale17 @tanyaherondale @buckys-estrella @geekykeen @lovingsherlockmolly @rory-cakes @muwun-blossom @jetblckdreams @i-wanna-be-conan-obrien @reidsbookmark @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @idfvc @sammypotato67 @tanyaherondale @1-800-brain-and-heart @stcrrjoon @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @wholesome-beans @frickin-bats @chaoticevilbakugo @goldeng1rl8 @arrowurboat @itzyourgurlnihya @belongwithreid @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @spencer-reids-mismatched-socks @addievermore @harrymybelovedd @chimpmunk @i3k2ts @axen-gers @gxrlwithluv @finny-of-the-rear @greengarsstuff @altsvu @jakiki94 @narryl0ver @justreadingficsdontmindme @hobireasns @goldentournesol @kbakery @kaitieskidmore1 @twofacesoftheworldbutnotsome @chaoticconnoisseurgiver @kbakery @twofacesoftheworldbutnotsome @geekykeen @thisbitch-6 @andreead @kayleea122 @xoxospencerreid @dirtytissuebox @xoxospencerreid @jaydahlynne @sultrypotter @awhoreforspencerreid @sprinh @doe-eyed-fallen-angel @kamilaxq @beans-beanz @malindacath @halloween-is-my-nationality @kenny-0909 @mexicosuitrry @lucyysthings @iheartfinnthehuman101 @vane28282 @mente-sindescanso @lucyysthings @tatespillows @cecethoughts @manuosorioh @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @barbietiingz @grandhideoutavenue @feelinlento @i3k2ts @malindacath @luredwithpretzels @sanaz1dlol @ant-mans-tacos @mente-sindescanso @yumuramma @bubblebuttwade @bellarkeselection @spenceswifewhore @barbiekatz @itseightbeats @neptunes-curse @sucker1-1punch @nyx2021 @stilinski-void-04 @dirtytissuebox @daydreaminrry @mysticfalls01 @furiousladyking @gildedstarlight @halloween-is-my-nationality @reidsmexyconverse @scargarcia-magshotchner @wdytminy @rio-reid-whoreee @lovelyxtom @b3ast1706 @slvdsjjk @beenz-beenz @alltoowell-lilysversion @la-reine-des-enfers @mochi-moons @itzliyalupin @queenofrandom @ryswritingrecord @ynbutbetter @thxtmarvelchick @allthingsfashionn @justlivinginadaydream @totally-not-dezi @spancemylove @liltimmyst @catertotshitposts @max-mml @crynroom @sugarcoated-lame @lilibet261 @bts-sugaplum @dezibou @swaggyday1223 @a-marlene-s @crynroom @tracysnook @Imeddiemunsonsgf @spencersprettyslut @alexxavicry @reidingspence @melonmochi @thicksexxualtension @haylexo10 @moonlight-2-6 @rosaliedepp @bport76 @dirtytissuebox @itsmekarlam @happymangospot @devilslilbabysblog / @bunny-script / @pauline5525mgg @fanf1ctionwrit1n @j-cat @captainhotchner @ceeellewrites / @randommmguerr / @sinnxagain / @goofygubler7 / @alotdreamers / @resident-boygenius / @nibb / @gublerstwilight @iamreallytryingiswear @gublur @countingthestarsinfinitely @actingchica @illegallygingerr @uhuhuh @alexxavicry @probablycryingg @black-veil-baby @uwu-queen-420 @one-sweet-gubler @buckys-doll17 @gubedawnreid @ummvengers @parahmur @whovianayesha @love3babies @simonsnowsblog @geekykeen @allthingsfashionn @spideyjass @flipperpenguins @j4sephluv @sophneedsfandoms @asantos7783 @hotchandspencearedilfs @sammypotato67 @dimpledsmilex3 @altogeek16 @nervous-plant @safespacespence @maraudersminds @bakugouswh0r3 @ilovespencerreidmarryme @fangirling-galore @ah-blossom @matthewgraygublerlover @happypixy380 @alohastitch0626 @nyx2021 @assemblemotherfuckers @hwngslove @helen-with-an-a @sia2raw @hufflepuffwhore13 @pastelbabygirl19 @chazubagi @spencerreidsmommy @blomfildsbeauty @urbestgrrl @hagridsmomma @alexxavicry @eichenhouseproperty @langcvn @paperbackprettyboy @spencersprettyslut @devilslilbabysblog @padf00ts-l0ver @pancake2603 @lonnie2390147 @nyenye @mrshoranhmm @honey-stark

1K notes · View notes

pink-sparkly-witch · 11 months

Text

The Widow - Chapter Eight (Finale)

Chapter Eight

Summary: Sam and Y/N are happily married, but everything changes after a fatal car accident leaves her a widow. The Winchester motto: "Family Don't End with Blood," takes on a whole new meaning for Y/N as she navigates her new normal with the help of her brother-in-law, Dean. But what no one can tell her, is what happens when she falls in love again?

Pairing: Sam Winchester x F!Reader (past) | Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, feelings, heart-to-heart, fluff, kissing

Words: 2,641

A/N: That's all folks! Thank you all for reading and for coming on this journey with me. I appreciate all of you more than you know! 💖 I'm sure going to miss these two, but it was fun getting them to where they needed to go.

Huge thank you again to my gorgeous beta: @negans-lucille-tblr I’m not sure this would’ve even been posted without your encouragement, and thank you doesn’t seem like enough 😘

Now… go and grab those tissues!!

You can catch up here!

My Masterlist AO3 Ko-Fi

Y/N’s POV

The first few minutes in the car are spent in awkward silence and it kills you. The relationship you have with Dean has always been easy and to think it’s been damaged beyond repair makes you sad.

“So…” Dean finally breaks the silence between you when you stop at a red light. “Good lunch?” He glances over at you and you scoff.

“That’s where you wanna go here? How was lunch?” You laugh, but it’s not the humourous kind.

“If you don’t mind, I’d much rather we get to the point and just agree that last night was a mistake and won’t happen again. So let’s do that, let’s pretend it never happened, not talk about it ever again and try to go back to the way things were.” You finish and turn your head to look out the car window.

“Before we do that, I need to say something. Last night meant everything to me,” he looks over at you and waits until you turn back towards him and meet his gaze. “Everything, Y/N. I don’t know when it happened, but I do know when I realised I was in love with you.”

“Dean…” you mutter. His words shock you, that’s about as much as you know right now, and you’re glad Dean ignores the interruption and continues talking, because you have no idea how to respond.

“It was when your car broke down on the hottest damn day of the year,” he chuckles at the memory, “and you called me for a tow. I was driving down the road you were stopped on, and I saw you sitting on the hood of your car, and you looked so beautiful. I swear you were glowing in the sunlight. It was like you had a goddamn halo or something! And my heart just stopped, and I thought ‘shit, I’m in trouble here,’ since then, I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re the first thing I think of when I open my eyes in the morning and the last before I fall asleep. Fuck… I tried to stop, I swear I did…

“I know this is hard for you to hear and it’s probably the last thing you want to deal with right now and that’s okay. But, I need you to know you were not a mistake, sweetheart. I don’t regret what we did and I never will. I know we have something that could work if you give us a chance, because you can’t fake the kinda connection we had last night. But if you want to pretend last night never happened and go back to how things were, then I’ll do that for you… but if I’m right and you feel something more for me, please, tell me.”

You remain silent and take in his confession. He’s right, you do have feelings for him, the trouble is, you don’t know if you can trust yourself. Are they real feelings, or are you mistaking them for the comfort and familiarity Dean gives you?

And then you ask yourself where this can even go. He’s your husband’s brother; people will talk. And it’s not that you care what they’ll say necessarily, there are other factors involved here. Including how John will feel, and the impact such a “scandal” could have on the family business. More importantly, though, you don’t know if you can do that to Sam.

“You know what? Forget I said anything. Your silence says it all, Y/N. Let’s just sweep last night under the carpet and chalk it down to bad judgement,” you know Dean is hurt because his voice comes out weak and defeated and you despise yourself for it.

“It wasn’t,” it’s barely audible, but at least you got something out.

“Wasn’t what?” Dean asks.

“Bad judgement,” you clarify. “And I do feel something for you, I just…” you sigh, and let your thoughts hang in the air as you try and decipher what this all means and what the best thing to do is.

“Alright,” Dean nods his head. “When we get home, we’re going to talk about all of this, okay?” Dean fixes his gaze on you and you nod in agreement. “We need to lay our cards on the table and hear each other out. It’s the only way we’ll be able to get past this, whatever this is, or ends up being.”

Again, you know he’s right. You need to get it all out in the open and be completely honest with each other because it’s the only way you’ll be able to keep Dean in your life.

“Okay,” you agree with a nod.

You go back to spending the journey in silence, but it’s not quite as heavy and suffocating as before, and you have the tiniest glimmer of hope that everything will work out just fine.

Sitting on your sofa next to Dean, you hand him a tumbler with a decent measure of whiskey and untuck the bottle from under your arm to place it on the table. In a bid for more time, you take a long sip from your wine glass as you desperately try to figure out what the hell just happened and how you ended up in this position. Dean speaks first and you sigh in relief as you’re at a complete loss for words.

“I just wanna start by saying I meant what I said,” Dean begins. “All of it,” he adds before you can question him. “I have fallen in love with you, and last night did mean the world to me.” With that, he downs the whiskey in one gulp and refills his glass. Now, at least you have your first question.

“So why didn’t you stay with me? Why did you get up and drink all night?” you ask quietly.

“We got so caught up in the moment, and neither of us even stopped to think,” he looks down at the floor and you can see and feel the shame radiating from him in waves.

“When we were finished and you were sleeping in my arms, it was like everything came crashing back to reality. I felt guilty for doing that to Sam, I felt ashamed for taking advantage of you when you were upset, I knew I’d ruined things between us and I knew I had no one to blame but myself.

“I didn’t mean to stay away all night,” Dean says, looking at you for the first time since he’d started to explain himself. “I only intended to have one or two to help me sleep, but I got upset and… two became four, and well… you saw me this morning.”

“You know you didn’t take advantage of me, right? That if I didn’t want it to happen, it wouldn’t have?” you ask him, reaching a hand out to cup his cheek and pushing gently to make him look at you. “Dean, I swear to you, I wanted it too…” you begin, but a scoff from the green-eyed man next to makes you frown.

“So this morning was what?” He looks at you pleadingly, like he was silently asking you to tell him that he hadn’t been a mistake.

“One big miscommunication, apparently,” you chuckle sadly. “Dean, when I woke up this morning, the first thing I felt was guilt for doing that to Sam. And when I turned over to seek you out, to get some comfort and to be told we didn’t do anything wrong, I was met with a cold bed.

“Fine, I thought, maybe he feels some of the guilt I do and was awake early, or couldn’t sleep… but when I came downstairs and saw the empty bottle and the bloodshot eyes, I went to the worst thing I could think of. Regret. And I went on the defensive, and for that I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left without talking to you.”

“And I should’ve never left you alone. I’m truly sorry, sweetheart. Not once did it cross my mind that you’d feel the way you did. You know, knowing that makes me feel worse than the guilt ever could.” Dean’s words are full of sincerity and you nod, believing everything he’s told you tonight.

“Okay, so we both agree we did nothing wrong and that it wasn’t a mistake, but I still feel like we haven’t resolved this,” you say looking up at him. Dean nods his head in agreement, but remains silent, staring at you intently. You know this part is up to you–he’s already told you how he feels–but you stall by taking a few more sips of wine.

“I know Sam is gone, and no matter how much I want it, he’s never coming back. I know he’d want me to be happy and to find someone to love and who loves me,” you glance up at Dean and see hope in his expression. “But I feel like I’d be cheating on him or something if that person is you. And,” you continue quickly, wanting to get everything out at once, “I don’t know if I really feel what I feel for you, or if I’m confusing your familiarity with Sam for real feelings.”

Dean nods and reaches his hand out to stroke your cheek. “I understand that, sweetheart. I feel the same way, but you’re right, he’d want you to be happy, and if that ends up being with me, then we’ll get through it together. And if it isn’t with me, then I’ll help you get through it.”

You think about what Dean said, your heart filling with hope that no matter what, he’d still have your back. “How do I know if what I feel is real?”

“Well, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “I can’t help with that, that’s gotta be all you. Only you know how you feel and what’s real or not.”

Placing your wine glass on the coffee table, you shift closer to Dean and tentatively place your head on his shoulder. You smile as you hear him sigh happily.

“C’mere,” he opens his arms and lets you cuddle into his chest before putting his arms around you and kissing your forehead. The warmth and safety of Dean’s embrace spreads over you like you’ve just lay down in a hot bath, and it makes you hum in pure contentment.

His arms squeeze you tighter into his body and you find yourself raising your head to look at him. Really look at him. His bright green eyes show you nothing but tenderness. You scan your eyes over the freckles that dust his face like a beautiful, undiscovered constellation; he truly is a stunning man.

Dean licks his lips, bringing your attention to them and your memories drift to last night and how those lips felt on yours and your body. Slowly, you tilt your head and move closer to him, gently pressing your lips to his.

Hesitantly, Dean opens his mouth and you take him up on his invitation, deepening the kiss and moaning as your tongues meet. The kiss is gentle and slow, neither of you in a rush to be anywhere but right here at this moment.

With your lips still attached to his, you straddle him and settle down in his lap. Feeling the beginnings of a bulge in his jeans, you grind your core into it, smirking at his groan.

“Y/N, sweetheart.” Dean is breathless, and you find the effect you have on him intoxicating. “If you want a repeat of last night, I’m all yours, but I need to hear you say it.”

“I want you, Dean.”

Six Weeks Later

“Hey, handsome,” you smile. “It’s been a while and I’m sorry for that,” you say as you sit cross-legged at Sam’s grave. “I’ve had some things going on that I needed to work out,” you pause and pick at the strands of grass around you.

“Something happened that I never thought would. I fell in love again. He makes me happy, Sammy. And I know he’s a good man and he’ll treat me right. If he doesn’t I’ll kick his ass,” you chuckle. “Then I’ll come here and beg you to haunt him!” your smile quickly turns to a sob.

“It’s Dean, Sam. I fell in love with Dean but I didn’t mean to. It just happened. And I need you to know that I never…” you need to stop talking to make way for the tears that won’t stop falling.

“I never felt that way about him when you were here. And I need you to know that. This is new and unexpected for both of us. I’ll always love you, Sammy, and I miss you. So fucking much every goddamn day! It’s just that I love him too. And I hope you can forgive me.”

You sit in silence for a while, just being. You know you should leave soon. Dean and John are waiting and you know they’ll be starting to worry about you. Movement catches your eye and you turn your head to see a butterfly fluttering nearby.

It lands on Sam’s gravestone and you smile, feeling a childlike joy at seeing the red admiral so close and so late in the year, even with the mild fall.

It remains perched and unmoving for a while longer before it flies over and lands on your knee. That’s when you know that this beautiful creature is a sign, and that Sam is with you.

You can feel him next to you, and you have the overwhelming feeling that everything is going to be alright and that he approves of you and Dean. The red admiral takes flight once again and circles your body.

You don’t know if it’s a laugh that erupts or if it’s a sob–maybe it’s a mixture of both–but it’s something, and you feel at peace with yourself and everything around you as you sit by his grave.

All too quickly, the butterfly takes off and flutters back into the nearby shrubs.

“I love you, Sam. Always and forever,” you say as you kiss your fingers and place them on his headstone before standing up and brushing the dirt from your jeans.“I’ll be back soon. I promise not to leave it so long next time.”

Walking away, you feel lighter than you have in a long time, and you know that finally, you’re at peace with your husband's death and with the path that has led you to looking forward to a life with Dean.

“Hey, sweetheart, you good?” Dean asks as you wrap your arms around his waist and hug him tight. You can’t bring yourself to speak, so you nod against his chest and once more you let the tears fall, knowing that this time, they’re happy tears.

“You’re alright, Y/N, I’m right here.” Dean murmurs, and you feel another hand stroking your back.

“Sam would be happy, you know that, don’t you darlin’?” John asks. “For both of you.”

Pulling away from Dean’s embrace, you wipe your tears away and smile, “I know he is.”

You saw a red admiral at every big life moment after that day at his grave. You saw one the day Dean proposed, and again at your small, intimate wedding. One flew in the kitchen window on the day you found out you were expecting your first child, and one appeared on the day you found out about the two that came next! On every birthday and holiday, on the day you gave birth to each of your children, and on their first days at school.

It gave you immense comfort, and though at first Dean, John, and Jody put it down to coincidence, after the first few times it happened, they started looking for the butterfly on the special days too.

THE END

@deans-spinster-witch @muchamusedaboutnothing @kazsrm67 @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @leigh70 @waynes-multiverse @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @chriszgirl92 @stoneyggirl2 @marilynnlew @ilovedean-spn2 @deans-baby-momma @acitygrownwillow @xxsovereignsarayaxx @frozenhuntress67 @lacilou @rach5ive @iprobablyshipit91

#the widow #dean winchester x reader #au dean winchester x reader #angst #fluff #tw: grief #tw: grieving

239 notes · View notes

moon-child-goddess · 3 months

Text

When we say goodbye Pt 3

Pairings: Druig X LightBender!Eternal!Reader (Fem)

Summary: They stop the emergence and figure out what life holds for them.

Warnings: MCU Violence, Blood, Fighting, I used Fem pronouns, Kissing I guess, stray from canon events.

Author's note: I once again got carried this is 6k words. I tried to make it really fluffy. Also sorry it is late i was sick.

Part one Part Two

Druig studied the gold details caved into the walls of the plane. They looked a lot like the ones on the ship they came here on. The place that was their home for thousands of years. There was a black sectional in front of a theater screen that was playing a movie with no sound on. It was over the top compared to Kingos she had spared no expense. He didn’t know where to sit for the long flight. Y/N had made it clear to Druig that she was still mad at him and was doing this for the others.

Y/N currently sat on the couch in the corner by a window. A pile of papers was splayed out in front of her with no clear organization to them. She held on to a burner phone pressing it hard to her ear. A picture of three men opening a crate was clutched in her hand. She let out a loud sigh tossing the photo to the side, and shuffled through papers looking for one file that she swore she grabbed on her way out. She spoke in a hushed whisper trying to keep Druig out of her business. However, he could make out a few words.

“Take care of it Loretta… I know but you are… Call him… Don’t make me beg.”

When she hung up, she narrowed her eyes a raised her brow at him.

“You just going to stand there? or sit?” Y/N snapped the phone in half and handed it to the stewardess on the plane. And went back to looking through the files. She still had work to do if the world survived the emergence.

Druig however didn’t move, he didn’t even blink, he just stared at her. He was at a loss for words.

“Staring is rude Dru. I know Ajak taught you that.” She spoke softly looking up from the file. He finally sat down leaving four feet of space between them. Druig stared at the movie playing trying to distract himself from the silence they were in. His gaze flickered over to Y/N occasionally wanting to interrupt her work but didn’t know what to say.

Y/N could feel his eye drilling into the side of her head. She read the same paragraph over and over again the words blurred together. His presence was distracting to her and feeling his eyes on her was not helping. She couldn’t do the work she wanted, and she needed to find a way to get rid of spiderman.

“Y/N?”

“No. I told you I would help. We are not friends. You stay there in your corner. I will continue to act like you are not here.” Druig sighed. He was once again at a loss of how to approach the situation.

Y/N became annoyed. All she could hear was him breathing and swore he was making up words for the movie. He was mumbling about something, but she wasn’t sure what. She pushed the papers into a somewhat neat pile. Then tossed them in to the bag she brought, and stared out the window as the dark sky.

“Do you hate me that much?” Druig spoke in a whisper. His accent made it hard for her to make out the words.

Y/N exhaled rolling her eyes. In truth no she did not hate him. She wanted to viscerally hate him, but she never could bring herself to even dislike him even after all this time. He was a light in her life that she lost and missed the warmth he brought her. That safe and secure feeling she had when he was near. It was just easier to wallow in pity and pretend that she hated him. Fake it till you make it was her motto for the last two thousand years.

“I- I don’t know. Not to sound like a broken record but you hurt me. I thought I meant more to you than the others. Because as much as you deny it you cared about them. But you left me when I begged you to take me.” She paused, taking a deep breath and licked her lips before continuing.

“Discarded me like human waste. Was I just temporary entertainment to you?”

He took the opportunity to scoot closer causing Y/N to stare at him instead of the dark sky. He stopped about a foot away testing the waters. He wanted to touch her. To comfort her and make her see she was his world.

“Sunshine. You must know you were the only one I genuinely cared about, besides Makkari.”

“Then why did you leave me?” Y/N cried out. And repeated the question quieter with glassy eyes. Tears threatening to spill out.

“I am so sorry sunshine. I didn’t want to leave you, but I was trying to be selfless for once. You loved every single one of them more than I could comprehend. I couldn’t pull you away from that, and you end up regretting it.”

She scoffed and looked back out the window staring into the black void of the night sky.

“They all left me too. I had sprite on and off during that time. But those two thousand years were hell. You took a part of me I don’t think I will ever get back.”

Druig reached out and gently grasped her hand rubbing his thumb over her wrist stopping at her pulse. He wanted to fix this. It was never his intention to hurt her.

“Was it really that bad?” She pulled her hand out of his hold and set it in her lap.

“I watched the man I loved walk away from me, and then the man I fell in love with was murdered in front of me. We got six glorious years that was it. A blink to us eternals.”

Druig flinched. Loved? As in past tense? he thought. Scared of the answer she may give him. She kept looking out the window refusing to acknowledge him. Y/N pulled her feet up on the chair hugging her knees to her body trying to make herself look small. She wanted this conversation to end. Every emotion she had pushed away for centuries was surfacing.

“Loved?” Druig couldn’t resist, he had to know. Y/N pinched her lips frowning.

“That’s what you care about? You don’t have to worry I got over my unrequited love a while ago.”

“Do you honestly believe that I didn’t love you? Please look at me Y/N” His voice was raw, and she hesitated to do what he asked. Eventually giving in to the side that still cared for him.

They stared at each other. His blue eyes keeping eye contact with her. Feeling overwhelmed with the emotions he held in his eyes she turned her head slightly. He moved with her to keep eye contact.

“You must know you are the only one I care about. Y/N, I never wanted anything more in my life. You are beautiful and my sunshine. Every time I called you sunshine that was me saying ‘I love you’. I was scared that I had these feelings and you deserved better.”

Y/N let a tear escape. She didn’t know what to say to him. Druig gave her everything she wanted to hear from him.

“I will apologize for the rest of our existence. I will beg on my knees for you to let me back in.”

Y/N giggled through the tears that fell. A sight she would have liked to see. He cupped her face wiping the drops away giving her a soft smile. Her skin was cold to his warm hands.

“I don’t know what to say.” She whispered. For once she was at a loss for words.

In response he laughed, his breath fanning over her face. The minty smell was overwhelming. She scooted closer to him, their faces a centimeter apart. Her eyes bore into his. She took a deep breath to stop the tears. His familiar smell filled her senses again. Oh how she had missed this familiarity, the feeling of home.

“You still smell good, and it is infuriating.” She mumbled.

He laughed again, his accent coming out a bit more. This was the person he knew. The one he loved.

“So do you.”

Y/N shook her head his hands falling one landing on her thigh. She laid her head on his shoulder suddenly very tired. Druig rested his cheek on the top of her hair, savoring her touch and made a silent promise to never let her go again.

Soft snores came from her as she slept soundly. He took in her tranquil state and traced a finger over her features softly to avoid waking her up.

----

“Why are you wearing a leather jacket in the desert?” Y/N teased as they tracked through the hot sandy hills of Iraq.

“Because I like it.” Druig shrugged, sending her a small smile.

The outline of the rest of the eternals grew the closer they got. Y/N picked up speed practically running to them. Druigs hand shot out resting on her lower back ready to catch her if she fell. The closer they got the faster she sprinted. After being apart from most of them for centuries she was ecstatic to see her family again. Mainly Thena and Sprite (but she would never tell anyone that). Sprite had been her best friend through the toughest of times.

“Y/N” Sprite called out when she saw her figure approaching.

Sprite ran toward her. Once close enough they enveloped each other in a bone crushing hug. Y/N clung on just a little longer. The last hug she had with her was at Giovanni’s funeral.

“I am sorry I pushed you away Sprite.”

“It’s ok, I get it. I was going to lecture you about finding yourself again plus you were in a dark place.” Sprite held an honest and forgiving tone as she let Y/N go.

Y/N bit chewed on her upper lip. She knew this kindness was more than she deserved after everything she had done, but it meant the world to her that Sprite still treated her the same.

“I am working things out, but I am here to assist.”

“May I cut in?” The blonde warrior asked from behind sprite.

Y/N squealed. Launching herself at the unsuspecting women.

Thena smiled and grabbed Y/N’s face. Her eyes traced over the girls’ features taking in every inch of the face she hadn’t seen in so long. Y/N looked the same, just tired and a little sadder in the eyes. After a moment Thena picked Y/N up in a bear hug twirling them both around. Both of them let out a giggle. It was the happiest Y/N has felt in a long time.

“I have missed you.” The warrior spoke while setting Y/N back on her feet.

“As I you.”

“Sorry to interrupt this moment, but Druig can you get rid of the humans over here?” Phastos called out from where he stood.

Druig nodded and glanced back over at Y/N. She was still smiling at the two people in front of her, clearly elated. His heart skipped a beat at the sight. In the time apart from her he often dreamed about that smile. He nudged her shoulder hands in his jacket pockets and tilted his head towards everyone else. Y/N gave him the same smile and looped her arm through his walking with him. It felt like the good times when they would stroll around town before everyone was awake.

Y/N said a soft hello once they stopped near the others. Sersi gave her a light embrace muttering a sweet hello.

“This is Y/N she can manipulate light into anything she wants it to be.” Kingo held an animated tone while speaking directly to the camera Karun was holding. Karun panned over to the women who waved at him not entirely sure what was going on.

“Not anymore. I can manipulate shadows though.” Y/N tried to sound carefree as she spoke it aloud to the group, but failed there was an edge to her tone.

“Oh really! I may need to change the script for my next movie then.”

“You are still making those?”

“Yes, the people love me.” Kingo said in a duh tone.

“Who is this man?”

“Oh, that is my assistant Karun.”

“And he hasn’t run for the hills?”

Kingo shot Y/N a glare offended. He didn’t have a chance to remark as the wind picked up as Phastos summoned the ship. Sand blew towards them. Y/N was cursing the fact that she was the only one who didn’t bring sunglasses. She buried her face in Druigs back holding her breath. She let out a small gasp when Druig reached behind and set a hand on her hip.

----

The group of eternals crept through the ship at a snail’s pace. Kingo whispered into the video camera speaking ominous words that sent a chill through the group. He was acting as if there was going to be an axe murder hiding on board to kill them.

“What are you doing? You know you are creeping us out right?” Phastos spoke up.

As if on que a loud pop echoed through the hall. Causing Y/N to flinch at the loud sound. She let out a small yelp and clung on to Druigs side. He let out a soft chuckle before putting an arm around her shoulder pulling her in closer.

“Its ok,” He murmured in her ear. “Thena stepped on something.”

“You turned my lab into a sarcophagus?” Phastos cried out to Makkari using his right hand to gesture around at the things strewn about.

Makkari was perched on a throne with a plethora of books surrounding her. She smiled once the group came to a stop in front of her. She asked them if it was time to go home.

Y/N’s face twisted into a grimace not ready to break her spirit. She too wished to leave this plant and start over. Makkari frowned once she took in everyone’s sullen expressions.

“Who is going to tell her?” Y/N asked. She did not want to be the one to crush her spirit. She may have been a cruel person to those that deserved it, but she couldn’t do it to her family.

“I will do it.” Kingo volunteered after a moment of no one talking.

Phastos got to work immediately wasting no time in finding a solution. While the rest started rummaging through the goods in the room.

Y/N was rummaging through a box of paintings next to where Sprite sat on the ground. The red head was reading an old scroll. It was in a language Y/N had long forgotten. She stumbled across a dusty painting that a king had once gifted her.

‘It would be such a shame no to capture such beauty.’ He had said to her while obnoxiously drunk at one of his parties. No matter what Y/N said he would not take no for an answer. Leading her to reluctantly agree to letting him commission a piece. She pulled it out of the crate to look at it better. The colors had faded throughout the centuries.

“That king wanted to marry you. He almost proposed too, but Druig got involved.” Sprite spoke up. Lowering the scroll she was reading from. At the mention of his name Druig turned to face them. His jaw clenched when he took in what Y/N was holding.

“I merely saved him from heartbreak when she inevitably said no.” Druig called out. Y/N rolled her eyes setting the painting back to its proper place.

Y/N narrowed her eyes as she watched Druig pick up her old journal from a pile in the corner of the room. Before he could open it she took off towards him. It was full of so many things that she didn’t want anyone to read.

“Give it to me.” Y/N panted once in front of him.

“Oh, you want this” He held the book above his head with a smirk.

Y/N huffed out and jumped up trying to get it. On the third try her hands touched the leather. She had half the mind to tackle him, but she knew he wouldn’t budge. Instead, Y/N got on a table to make herself taller.

“Yes, now please give it to me, or I will stab you.” The threat fell on deaf ears, as Druig lifted her from the table setting her back on the ground. He rested his forehead to hers smiling down at her angry look. He held the journal out to the side still just out of her grasp.

“What’s in here? Your dirty thoughts?”

“No.” Y/N blushed answering way too quickly. A heat coursing through her face.

Druig cackled, bringing everyone’s attention to the two for a second. He handed her the brown leather book tapping her nose with it before walking away.

Y/N made a mental note to burn the book as soon as possible while hiding it under a pile of miscellaneous items. On the other end of the table was an old talisman Ajak had loved and wore it often. Y/N picked it up her heart breaking at the realization she would never see the women again. The air around her became stale as she tried to steady her beathing. Losing all the joy she had moments ago.

“Now where did you end up finding the Emerald tablet at Makkari?” Druig asked not too far from where Y/N stood lost in her thoughts.

Y/N grinned and turned to them. She had found it at an underground black-market auction. Where she bought it for more money than she cared to admit. A trusted friend of hers had packed it and delivered it personally to Makkari. With a note apologizing for ever doubting that it was real. It was her penance for making fun of her friend looking for something that sounded insane.

‘After all this time I found it. Sorry for doubting you- Love Y/N/N.’

Makkari pointed at Y/N. Signing out the story to Druig with a small grin on her lips. It was a fond memory of hers when the mysterious package showed up.

Y/N plucked the tablet from Druigs’ unsuspecting hands. Her fingers brushed over the carvings on the stone. When she bought it she had barley looked at before sending it off. There was a lot to do, and the CIA had been on their way to her base in California. Druig watched as she bit down on her bottom lip furrowing her eyebrows at the green rock.

‘You finally admit you love her?’ Makkari signed to him with a knowing smile.

‘Shut up’ he signed back.

“I found a way to connect us all” Phastos called out pulling everyone back to him.

The plan was insane. Even if it did work who knew what the repercussions would be.

The group began to do what they do best and bicker with one another. It was irksome to Y/N that they were here to save the humans and they still were all in disagreement. She rolled her eyes tuning out the yelling. Eventually they would calm down and they could try to solve the plot holes in the plan.

“We could be responsible for billions of lives not being created in the universe. Boss am I right?” Kingo cried out his words seemed to confuse Ikaris.

“Say something Ikaris! Y/N?” Sprite spoke out. A quite tension filling the room as they all stared one another down.

“I don’t care what we do one way or another.” Y/N spoke. “We run a risk no matter what. Arishem will be mad at us.”

Ikiaris suddenly ran out of the room clearly shaken. Y/N knew that look on his face he was guilty of something she wasn’t sure what it was, but he carried a look of guilt in his eyes.

----

Y/N sat on a table watching Phastos work in awe. His fingers were incased in gold circles making rings on his fingers as he worked. He was rushing to find the answers and find some way to help Druig put the celestial to sleep. If the situation wasn’t so life or death it would have been a beautiful thing to watch.

“I am close to figuring it out.” Phastos glanced up at Ikaris who strolled into the room. The man glanced at everyone in the room before clenching his jaw and swallowed. His eye shifted to a gold color.

“Watch out!” Kingo hollered.

Y/N body tackled Phastos to the ground not caring if she got hit in the process. They needed him more than anything.

Sersi booked it into the room, joining the chaos that was quickly erupting.

“He lied to us he knew about the emergence.” Sersi spoke standing in front of Phastos. Protecting him from Ikaris.

“No.” Kingo said in disbelief. Voicing everyone’s thoughts.

“Ajak told me everything when we left Babylon.”

“If Ajak wanted you to take her place, then why did she choose me?” Sersi swallowed. Deep down she knew the answer and was ready to face it. It was all Y/N needed to know that he did something unspeakable it connected all the dots.

“What have you done?” Sersi whispered when Ikaris made no move to answer her.

“He killed her.” Druig and Y/N said at the same time.

The group went silent.

“You are a pathetic murderer.” Y/N snarled.

It was hypocritical of her to say she knew that, but he killed family. Someone innocent. One of the only family members they had.

“That’s rich coming from you. How many people have you killed?” Ikaris softly spoke his tone apathetic towards her.

Y/N Flinched taking a step toward him. She expected that answer honestly but wasn’t ready for her family’s judgement. Even coming from someone as pathetic as Ikaris. She understood why Druig hated him so much.

“I am not below taking one of a douche canouche.”

With in a blink there was a terrible troll like monster behind the smug man in blue. One twitch of her pinky and it would attack. A wicked smile crossed her lips. She would cross a line to redeem Ajak any day.

“Y/N” Druig called out. He took slow long strides to where she stood.

“Why?” Sersi managed to ask through her tears.

“I had to.”

Y/N screamed out ready to lunge at him. That was a pathetic answer; had to do it? She didn’t know when she grabbed one of her knives, but it was gripped tightly in a way that was useless. It wouldn’t do her any good in a fight against him anyway, but she didn’t care. She was willing to try. Druig wrapped an arm around her waist stopping her movements.

“Stop its not worth it.” He whispered to her. Trying to pull her back in.

This was not a fight they needed now. There was an emergence to stop.

“You will not succeed against me. I will kill everyone of you if I have to.” Those were Ikaris’s last words before he started to walk out.

“Wait. I am going with you.” Sprite finally spoke.

“Sprite no.” Y/N wanted to say more but in a blink of the eye they disappeared.

----

Sersi, makkari, Druig and Y/N started down the volcano that smoke was emerging out of. It was ready to blow at any moment.

“It’s time” Sersi said once it rumbled.

Before Druig could do anything, Ikaris was there knocking him over.

“Ikaris” Y/N warned the man.

“I should have done this five centuries ago” Ikaris spit out ignoring the yells, while pulling Druig up by the throat.

“Druig.” Y/N called out as ikrais flew off with him. Makkari screamed.

They watched as Ikaris threw Druig down. Both of them feeling utterly helpless in the moment. Then watched him attack the ship bringing it down. It was going to crash on them if they didn’t move. Makkari fast as always pulled everyone out of the way from the ship coming down.

“Druigs gone now its over.” Ikaris said from above them.

No, no, this cannot be happening. He cannot be dead. Y/N’ thoughts paced. Their plan was quickly falling apart. She went through rapid emotions before settling on anger. If Makkari hadn’t run off with him she would have attacked. Rage gripped her heart. She wanted to hurt the man for taking so much from them.

The volcano rumbled again before erupting, setting off a minor earthquake. The environment around them began to change quickly.

“I have to get closer to Tiamut. Distract Ikaris” Sersi begged the group.

“My pleasure.” Y/N spoke mincingly in a ready to attack position.

They all took a chance at stopping him from doing killing anyone else. Phastos shot pierced the air missing the man who seemed to be unstoppable. Thena fierce and unstoppable unleashed her weapons each strike doing some damage.

Y/N felt like a bystander desperate to do something, anything. But there were not enough dark patches for her to pull from. Her heart began to thunder against her chest when she realized how powerless she was.

“Y/N use the light.” Thena called out to her from chaos on the other side of the beach.

“I don’t think I can.” Y/N confessed her fingers trembling.

“Try!” The blonde women commanded.

Y/N obeyed the warrior and reached out to the light trying to form anything. Light responded forming a fragile rope of gold it whipped out. As quickly as she had formed it dissipated in to the wind.

She groaned, growing frustrated, and tried again. Shadows merged with the light. Shadowy golden monsters materialized scattering across the beach. Thena let out a whistle at the unexpected power of the girl.

Emerging from the depths of the ocean a deviant appeared in its grotesque form capturing every eye on the beach. Y/N hurled every monster in her arsenal at the creature. It was a useless attempt. Every time her monster got a cut or hit in the deviant mended itself unbothered. He managed to take out Y/N’s army quickly.

It lunged for Ikaris, hungry for blood. It was ready to attack him, and consume his powers. Phastos, however, saved him from an untimely fate.

“Why are we helping him?” Thena asked and Y/N wanted to know the answer as well.

“We can’t let him absorb our powers.” Phastos stayed calm. Ready to fight back.

Thena managed to drag the creature’s attention to the cave across the way. They all called out trying to stop her before Ikaris attacked again. This time Y/N held him down with ropes of black. The flying man was now grounded in front of her.

“Don’t do this Y/N.”

“See Ikaris you took all I had left. Which means I have no will to live, and that right there makes me dangerous.”

Ikaris struggled aging the bounds, but the more he fought the harder the hold she had on him became. The man screamed out in anguish trying to shoot lasers at the girl. They missed and the Shadows covered his eyes blinding him temporarily. Y/N let out a giggle this was rich she had the upper hand, and she was going to take advantage of it. He would have a fate worse then the man who had betrayed her 56 hours ago.

“Guys the world is literally starting to collapse.” Phastos turned her attention to the damage happening around them.

Tiamut began to emerge from the pits of the earth. Y/N wasn’t sure what she expected but the thing was massive. They were losing the fight and it started to scare her a little. They could die and it would have all been for not. Her powers lessened their hold on Ikaris, and he took the moment to escape.

But before he could do anything the celestial began to turn white. Sersi was freezing it, and Ikaris took off angrier than ever.

Y/N laid sprawled out on the beach closing her eyes. Her eyelids were heavy and unable to stay open. Exhaustion clung to her limbs, she was ready to sink in to oblivion and forget that Druig once again slipped through her finger. A single tear escaped trailing down her cheek landing in the grains of sand. She squeezed her eyes tight refusing to feel the pain. Heartbreak had followed her for years and she didn’t want to feel it anymore. Yearned to cut the ties with that pain.

“You know Sunshine, I thought you would be a little more upset.” Druigs voice cut out through her haze. The accent wasn’t as thick as usual there was a softer edge to it.

“Another hallucination great.” She muttered out bitterly. “How long will these ones-“

“Y/N look at me please. I am here. I wont ever leave you again.”

She cracked an eye open and he was there looking down at her. A smug smile on his face and delightfully real. She shot her feet and put a hand on his chest. One of his hands came up and held it there anchoring her hold.

“I thought you left me again.” It was a barley audible whisper. As fragile as glass.

“Never my beautiful beautiful sunshine”

“Hug me please” She begged him, and she never begged a vulnerability she rarely displayed.

Druig didn’t make her ask twice. He pulled her body to him his arms cocooning her to him. His face nestled in the crook of her neck, and she played with the hair at the nape of his neck. They closed their eyes taking in the warmth of the hug.

“You are alive.” She murmured aginst his shoulder. “I forgive you. You are alive - don’t leave me again.”

“Never. I promise” His words tickled her neck.

----

It was a warm afternoon at Ajaks house. Y/N sat on the porch staring out at the grassy field, avoiding the group inside. They were making plans for their future, and she was more lost than ever. Unsure of what to do. Loretta was officially in charge of the empire she had built. Y/N told her exactly how to shake the spiderman and wished her all the luck.

Y/N mindlessly created butterflies letting them fly away to eventually disappear. Part of her wanted to just disappear and do nothing for at least fifty years. Vacation in the Poconos and maybe Greece.

“Ahh there you are sunshine.”

Druig was standing behind her. Hands fisted in his coat pocket. He watched a butterfly fly away before sitting next to her. His blue eyes traced her face trying to figure out what she was feeling.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know what I am going to do now. I gave Loretta the business, and now I have nowhere to call home or go.”

She was anxious and afraid, her heart beating against her ribs. Fear wound its claws through her thoughts. Even though he was standing there and promised to never leave she couldn’t help but wonder if he would abandon her again.

“I was thinking about going with Thena. Join us in finding other Eternals, it will be an adventure. If you don’t want to though I will follow you wherever you go. I never want to be parted from you again. We can make a life anywhere you want.”

Y/N leaned into him laying her head on his shoulder whispering an ok. Druig with a gentle finger under her chin lifted her face to meet his gaze.

“Yeah?” a smirk splayed on his lips.

“Yes.”

With those words Druig picked Y/N up and moved her to his lap. Her knees finding their place on either side of his hips. His large hand cradling the the back of her neck drawing her face down to his. Her breath mingling with his. He nudges her nose with his own. Hesitation dances in his eyes, a delicate balance between longing and fear, as he debated on crossing the line he has yearned to cross throughout his entire existence.

“Dru.” She whispered her tone fragile a secret hidden in her words.

He hums in response.

“I love you.” She confessed.

And in that suspended moment, the world ceased to exist. His lips met hers like a man starved. It was needy and rushed, but it was perfect. His kiss was a wild storm, a tempest that promised her forever. She melted into him pushing her body closer to his, her body seeking solace in him. Her soul was home in his arms. His hand, once firm on her neck, now cradled her face. Fingers slowly threading through her hair. She whimpered, lost in the sensation—the taste of him.

He smiled against her lips at the sound and broke away. Druig kissed down her jaw, a trail of fire left behind each one. Each touch was a vow etched into her skin. And as she caught her breath, she knew: this kiss was the beginning of their forever.

She pulled him back giving him a peck. He groaned wanting more after finally knowing what it was like to have her.

“Dru.”

He hummed again in response, trying to kiss her, but she shook her head. The laugh he missed escaping her.

“Thank you for not hating me and what I did.”

“My beautiful, beautiful sunshine, never. I love you. I always have.”

She let him kiss her again. Ready for their next chapter.

#druig imagine #druig x reader #eternals imagine #eternals x reader #marvel imagine

89 notes · View notes

theexaltedbride · 1 year

Text

Dead Island 2 Slayers X Reader Headcanons.

Amy:

-Always tries to make sure you eat right for a day of surviving the undead. Amy also likes to take the time to show you how to properly limber up and run so you don’t pull a muscle during an attack or a retreat from the undead.

-Amy isn’t afraid to let you touch her prosthetic leg, so long as you ask nicely and don’t tug on it.

-When things get tough, Amy has a thousand little pick-me-up phrases and feel good mottos she can give you that she’s said to herself many times.

-When fighting he undead Amy likes to hit and run, picking the zombies down one by one (Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee). But she will go all out if she spots you being cornered or pushed too hard by the swarm.

Bruno:

-Will always compliment your music choices even if he doesn’t actually like them, and is always the first one to suggest blaring music loudly when you find a working car and can drive around the zombies. His main choice seems to be some song called “Stay Alive’ which he was playing on his phone before the plane crash.

-Phone is now full of selfies with you, but only the ones that make you look good and got the right filters on, so everyone can see you as he sees you.

-Bruno is not the most gun savvy person and tends to shoot it gangsta style, if you can teach him the right way to use one (especially proper gun-safety) he will appreciate it, especially after the two of you start stacking Zeds left and right.

-Promises that once this is all over, you and him are gonna hit it big on the internet. He’s gonna make a song about you.

Carla:

-After swearing so much at the undead, or at dickish survivors, she decided to teach you Spanish, starting with every swear she knows and even some new ones. But when you are alone together, she will also teach you by whispering sweet (or even dirty) things in Spanish to you and telling you to translate it.

-Once punched out another survivor for getting too handsy with you, and afterwards will start teaching you how to properly fight with someone.

-Will always offer a comforting touch, even if she can be a little rough around the edges. Gives the best hugs out of the group, but don’t tell anyone.

-Is going to teach you to ride a motorcycle, so you can get the same rush as she does from her bike, but also so you can get away quickly if things go bad.

Dani:

-Will teach you how to drink like you mean it, but is willing to start with the weaksauce stuff if you are hesitant to drink during the apocalypse.

-Can play up her accent if you want, but it tends to happen when she gets very angry, to the point even she doesn’t know what she said.

-Is constantly trying to decide what kind of tattoos would look good on you, and promising you it doesn’t hurt.

-Promises you that if you both survive this, she’s gonna make you part of the Blood Faeries.

Jacob:

-Normally doesn’t like to put his cigars out for anyone, but will do so for you. If only because he wants to make a good impression.

-Loves clearing out, fancy, mansions in LA of zombies and turning them into a safehouse where you and him can have a great time together just eating the food, watching the movies and raiding anything there for some fun. Its important to keep a happy mindset during the apocalypse.

-When raiding for supplies, he will go out of his way to find things he knows you like and bring them back, which is slowly turning the both of you into loot goblins and packrats. You’re gonna need a bigger bag or storehouse for all the stuff you’ve picked up.

- Even when he’s feeling down, he forces himself to smile through it, but the smile becomes much more genuine when you are around.

Ryan:

-Genuinely afraid of all the undead overwhelming LA, but will put on a brave face so that you aren’t scared. Eventually he won’t have to fake it, and will genuinely be brave, especially with you around.

-You genuinely thought he was a real firefighter, until you noticed his helmet was a toy. He loves going over that story and sometimes sharing his craziest stories from his career as a male stripper.

-Wants to survive the apocalypse and show you off to his brother and boast about how badass you are for having survived alongside him.

-Will only pull out his old stripper dance moves when in a safezone, and only if he’s 110% sure no one will barge in.

All purpose Headcannons:

-They will love you regardless of if you are ‘Immune’/a ‘Numen’, or not. They care about you for who you are, not what you are. And if the other group of (evil?) Numen try to step between them and you, then those bastards have another thing coming.

-They tend to let you handle the radio calls when it involves civilians in danger, or them trying to sell their ‘Hero Services’ out to any survivors in LA.

-Movie Night back at Emma’s mansion is the highlight of the week now, with everyone voting over what movie to watch. There tends to be a trend of the longer movies being chosen, so that the group can forget about the chaos outside a little longer.

-The excitement you sometimes show when you nerd out over something is also a welcome distraction and has led to in depth nerdy debates even in the middle of fighting against swarms.

-The group is slowly turning Patton’s bunker into a second home/safehouse for survivors.

-None of them can decide on a group name for themselves.

-If the group encounters other survivors they feel are dangerous, they might start closing ranks around you subconciously to keep you safe.

-If you have loved ones outside of the Quarantine Zone, they will do their best to make sure they know you are okay and will be taking care of you.

-Someone is gonna make a scrapbook of all the selfies you’ve collectively taken around famous landmarks or memorable moments.

-They totally stopped to check in to see if your favorite actor/actress is still alive/safe.

-Sometimes you all just sit and watch the stars from the roof of Emma’s mansion, and its in these moments, together, safe, and united as a group, that you all truly feel alive.

#Dead Island #Dead Island 2 #Dead Island Headcanons #Dead Island x Reader #Slayers x Reader #Dead Island Slayers x Reader #DI2 #character x reader shipping #I was just so inspired that i wrote this out #hope you all enjoy

250 notes · View notes

creepling · 7 months

Note

hi! happy 1k <3 may i request a piece with johnny x single mom reader + the prompt “will you stay?” “of course, i’m not planning on leaving anytime soon.”? i thought it’d be interesting if reader was formerly captured by the sawyer family, while she was on vacation with friends, but johnny relented and decided to let her go because of how badly she begged for her life & at the time her baby was only 2 months old, which she told him. so johnny being johnny as well, he was able to track her down a month later — at first just to check up on her, but he decided he wanted to help her raise her kid & kind of switch up his life since the baby’s father is (willingly) out of the picture. also reader is a young mom (early 20s), around the same age that johnny is, he’s just a lil older. they’re still warming up to each other/developing their relationship but to the reader’s surprise, johnny’s really good with kids & has done a lot to help reader out to give her a break? AAAA THIS IS A LOT OF INFO IM SORRY but i hope it makes sense & that you have fun with making something out of this <333

AAAA ok no but i love this, idk it makes sense for the sawyers to spare a victim if they have a kid?? the whole "family" motto would get to them lol. i love all your info but i apologise if i've missed out on anything. i've made this drabble more like a time passing sort of thing so i could include everything.

tags: angst. single-mum!reader. reformed!johnny. kid is gn (use of they/it). descriptions of trauma. johnny feels a lot of guilt. mild blood ment.

“Drop the god-damn knife, Johnny. She’s got a kid for crying out loud!” Drayton barked.

Johnny’s adrenaline shot through his body, tensing his muscles and trembling his hands. “Is that true?” He growled, eyes shot out at your petrified stare.

You pulled a Polaroid picture out of your pocket, your bloody hands staining the corners. You beheld it to Johnny, trying to steady your shakes. Johnny gazed at the picture, the newborn clouded in white, its eyes closed in a peaceful sleep.

“My baby . . . My baby. I need to go home to my baby,” You sob, begging on your knees, hysterics maddening all parts of your manner.

Johnny’s knife dropped to the floor, and he thought about every bad thing he had done. There was no coming back from this.

It had been a month of silence. A month of sleepless nights and looking over your shoulder. Breastfeeding became agonising. Your baby’s cries sent you into uncontrollable alertness. Your hair was brittle and your skin shallow, the stress shivering through your body like a ghost entering your soul.

The letters came around that time. Off-white envelopes with a few dollars in cash. All that was left was a note,

For the Baby, I’m sorry.

Meeting him again after the kidnapping was an anxiety-driven step, bouncing your baby on your lap as you waited in the diner booth. You convinced yourself you lost your mind, wanting to rekindle with your kidnapper. But you hadn’t heard from anyone since the birth; the baby daddy became non-existent. Your family refuse to return your calls. The only person willing to help you was Johnny.

He was silent across from you for a while. The only words he uttered were to order from the menu. He shovelled down an apple pie while you bottle-fed your child, lulling them to their afternoon nap.

“Why are you helping me?” You remember asking. Visioning Johnny’s deep gaze, his subtle glances at your first-born, a tinge of sadness glazing his eyes.

He said he owed you too much. Your baby deserved to grow up with a male figure in its life, and you deserved someone to protect you. The sight of your youthful features withering away from stress, the permanent damage he inflicted on you, ached your eyes and down-turned your smile. It kept him up at night thinking about you, struggling with the fussing cries and flashes of his brute force. He wanted to step up. He was ready for redemption.

He drove you back home, watching over his new companions with careful eyes. His arm outstretched as he turned the wheel, hoping not to disturb the baby’s slumber. The rascal woke up eventually, full of energy the minute you invited him inside. “Would you like to hold them?” You asked, unable to ignore his loving stares.

He felt like crying, holding something so precious. Knowing he nearly orphaned this child, ridding it of a beautiful mother. He swore to protect the kid, holding its gentle head and leaning it into his chest. His gentleness surprised you, the warmth filling your smile for the first time in months.

Johnny never left the house. He hadn’t seen his family in months and had no plans on returning. Your little one was proliferating, and Johnny got used to using his strength to pry the ankle biter from dangerous objects. He ditched the knives and retired into swinging the kid until they were out of breath from laughter. He stepped up, got a job, and brought money in to keep you secure.

He was a different man, and he changed you as a mother. He repented for his sins. He begged for forgiveness with every stare your way, with every gentle touch. You finally forgave him, praying that his presence is destined to be everlasting.

“Will you stay?” He held you in his arms as you choked up, clinging to his body.

“I’m not plannin’ on leavin’ anytime soon.” Johnny kissed the top of your head, his arms around you. Your loving touch soothing the aching heart he’s adorned for decades.

#johnny slaughter x reader #johnny sawyer x reader #tcm game #texas chainsaw massacre #angst #creepling.1k

90 notes · View notes

kalisburnerphone · 2 years

Text

Haruchiyo “I might be trigger happy” Akashi/Sanzu. Haru didn’t really listen to anybody besides Mikey. He did whatever the fuck he wanted,when and how he wanted without a care in the world.

Haru’s motto of ‘what’s mine is mine and what’s yours is also mine’ didn’t really work to well for him in his relationships because while whatever girl he’d chosen to give the time of day was giving 100 to the so called relationship, Haru did what he wanted and they never lasted.

That is until he met you. Haru had no idea how the fuck you were friends with the pet shop trio, mainly Keisuke’s mean mugging ass but he wanted you. You gave him quite the run for his money before you finally agreed to one date with him. As cliche as it was,you weren’t like the girls that he usually went for. Short, slim usually easy for him to manipulate.

You on the other hand, you didn’t buy his bullshit at all. You had walked out of the restaurant the moment he got too comfortable with the waitress and threatened to call the cops if he didn’t stop camping out in his car outside your apartment complex.He did stop camping out but only after he bought the entire complex in your name and moved in next door.

When you found out, you had made camp at Baji’s. It took him 3 months to get you to accept another date with him which his coworkers thought was odd given that Sanzu was never short on pussy but apparently yours was all he wanted now and he hadn’t even gotten it yet.

That was 3 years ago and now Sanzu was a somewhat reformed man. He was still the same crazy fucker, albeit your crazy fucker who’d gone from fucking multiple women in a week to breaking your back multiple ways in a week.

Sanzu now firmly believed in a 50/50 effort when it came to relationships mainly the one with you, fuck everyone else tbh. Which brings him to his current situation. He currently at a Bonten warehouse, he may have told a little lie when you asked where he heading off to at 3am but he’d make it up to you.

Ran had informed him that the individual he’d ask them to find was currently sitting in their club. Sanzu waited for him in the parking lot and just as he was about to cross towards the section where his car was parked, ran his ass over , twice, and then tossed him in the trunk.

Said individual is now hanging upside down in a Bonten warehouse with Haru’s trigger happy ass.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Sanzu giggles,fucking giggles. Maybe he was a bit high, you’d both indulged in some new grade of weed Kazutora was harvesting but the fact still stood that clearly he didn’t run him over hard enough.

“Who I am really isn’t important here. What’s important is that you think very hard about what I’m about to ask you cause I may just put a bullet in your skull if I don’t like it.”

“The fuck do you want?”

“Two nights ago at Luxe, at a company dinner, you made a comment towards a young woman.”

“Is that what this is about? Tha fat bitch sent you to beat me up?” The mans scoffs before spitting blood on Sanzu’s shoes.

“Ah, you remember. She has no idea that I’m doing this. I don’t like when people make my wife uncomfortable, you see, she’s taught me that a relationship should be 50/50. And for me that means that my baby wears whatever the fuck she wants and I deal with little fucks like you, who make her uncomfortable.”

Sanzu slips his gun back into the holster deciding that killing him won’t be as fun as turning him into a human vegetable. He grabs one of Rin’s baseball bats and starts using it to push the mans body like a swing set.

“I bought that pretty little outfit she wore that day and my baby was so happy until your dumbass opened your mouth. It’s been brought to my attention that this ain’t the first time either. You used to hit on my woman until you found out she had a man, then she became a “fat bitch”. “Don’t you think a size bigger would fit you better?, why you always eating?”

Sanzu didn’t understand why you didn’t tell him shit like this was happening, instead he had to hear it for himself while he was having dinner with the boys. You weren’t fat, you definitely had a fat ass but that’s besides the point. You were healthy and happy with your body so who gave this irrelevant fuck the audacity to tell you shit like that at work?

Sanzu wasn’t having it, he’d deal with the situation and every time this fucker saw you he’d turn the other direction. The first swing lands to his ribs and the scream that ripples through the air has Sanzu smiling manically.

By the time he’s finished he’s positive he’s broken enough body parts to get his message across. He has a couple lackies drop the idiot off in front of the hospital. He takes a shower before heading home. You’re wrapped up in his silk sheets, naked save for the pair of panties you’d slipped on after he had his way with you. Arms wrapped around his pillow as you slept peacefully.

Sanzu smiles as he watches you ‘cause yeahhhh he’d definitely commit murder for you.

#tokyo revengers #manjiro sano #ran haitani #rindou haitani #sanzu haruchiyo #bonten x you #bonten scenarios #bonten smut #bonten x reader #sanzu scenarios #sanzu headcanons #bonten

820 notes · View notes

munchkin1156 · 9 months

Text

I have fallen (but have faith, for I shall rise once more)

. . .

Borrower Techno with rest of sbi as god's? More likely than you think :D

2.2k words for part one, definitely going to make a part two because I'm not about to LEAVE y'all on a cliffhanger like that.

(Cw: Blood, injuries, mention of death (non happens) swearing, angst, accidental fearplay and Techno passes out due to blood loss.)

Hope you enjoy my (technically) first addition to the mcyt g/t community from my user!

. . .

Technoblade wasn’t like other borrowers.

Other borrowers didn’t have voices in their heads, who screamed at him for blood, grew emotionally attached to the most random things, or know things that helped him evade capture multiple times.

Other borrowers didn’t have memories that never existed, searing into his brain at moments when he loses themselves, of friendships with beings of power, of him being a being of power, of falling from the clouds for a crime he did not do.

When his sword is stained red from those who wronged him, then in his head it rings. When the voices, or as he called them, Chat, started chanting. It never made sense, what they chanted.

Blood for the blood god

And it scared him, not knowing what it meant. But he couldn’t dwell on it now, just like he couldn’t dwell on it yesterday. He was a borrower, and that meant he needed to borrow.

Techno stepped outside of the comfort that was the shelter that he had been using for the past week. Being a wandering borrower, he didn’t have a home, exactly. He wandered from place to place, travelling lightly and swiftly, being able to escape at a moment's notice.

He had bases in some places, so he could restock and rest for a bit, but he was exploring a new area and that came with the consequence of not knowing where safety lay, so if a bean were to see him, he might not be able to get out of there fast enough.

But it wouldn’t come to that. Techno was an amazing borrower, and his motto was literally ‘Technoblade never dies’. He started walking through the long grass, humming to himself. He wouldn’t get caught, he was certain of it.

So why did he feel so uneasy?

. . .

“Hey- Hey! Stop it!” He whispered, whipping his sword out as an act of defence. The crow squawked defiantly but didn’t stop trying to pick him up with its beak.

Techno groaned. Crows were always nice to him, and they were one of the few things that gave him those memories other than blood.

Memories of black wings surrounding him, feeling safety and warmth, and when he looked into those eyes-

Other things that did this were music, especially guitars or discs, the colour red, and that one statue. It had been in some rich fucker’s garden, and from what he had overheard the people in it were gods, whatever that was.

Their names, according to the beans he had been eavesdropping on, were Philza, Angel of Death, a golden blonde man with large black crow wings, a fatherly expression on his face as he stared at Soot, the god of music and chaos, a brunette who was laughing and ruffling the hair of Innit, god of discs and the wilderness.

And, standing a little bit away from the others, was a statue with its head gone. According to one of the beans, it was because they had been banished from the kingdom above, for a crime so terrible, and therefore been erased from history.

He also heard them say that it turned out to be an accident, that DreamXD, had framed him. But by that time it was discovered, it was too late, and he had been cast down, though it is said those three gods still search for him, in the hopes that they could bring him back.

They said his name was Blade, the god of war and blood. And that’s how he got his name.

Technoblade.

And, another funny thing is, no matter how hard he sees those gods as Philza, Soot, and Innit, like the man described, some hidden part of his mind changes that to Phil, Wilbur, and Tommy. But that was beside the point.

The point was, that no matter how nice the crows were to him, they kept trying to take him somewhere.

Usually, they’d stop if he complained or shouted, or drew his sword (never intending to kill, just to scare them off) and they’d stop. But this one was even more persistent, and Techno realised now that he’d either have to fight it (something he would like to avoid if possible, he liked crows and they sometimes brought him gifts) or run.

He chose the latter, dashing to the side the moment the crow grabbed him. It squawked in outrage and Techno realised that it couldn’t chase after him on foot, with its legs like sticks. Birds were meant to fly, not walk.

‘Looks like I win this time, eh?’

He thinks, grinning to himself. The crow that he escaped from cawed loudly, and he only had a split second to wonder what that could mean before another crow SWOOPS down out of nowhere and yoinks (he’s not even sure what that word means but it seems about right for this situation) him up in its claws.

He had jinxed it. Techno didn’t believe in superstition, but he was certain that was what had happened.

The pinkette struggled in the crow's grasp, desperate to get free before it took him to… Well, wherever it was taking him. But it was no use. He wondered why it was so determined to bring him wherever it was going. Techno supposed he’d find out, soon enough.

Eventually, after a few minutes of flying, the borrower noticed something very, very strange. The crow was taking him up. And by that, he meant really, really high up. The world below was barely visible, as they went higher and higher, through the clouds.

And once they came out of the clouds, Techno couldn’t believe his eyes.

“The kingdom above… Fucking hell it’s real…”

He muttered to himself in awe. It was made out of pristine white shining material that might’ve been made out of the clouds themselves, with magical glowing lanterns floating in the air.

Techno’s first thought was that it belonged to the ruler of this kingdom, or at least some kind of person in power, I mean it was so fine and well-kept that it had to be, right? Wrong.

On closer inspection, he realised that the people walking down below were… Normal. This was a normal town here, and these were normal civilians.

The crow flew past it though, taking Techno with it. Its wingbeats never slowed, and it showed no sign of tiredness. This was no ordinary crow, he was sure of it.

And this was no ordinary place. Chat had stopped talking altogether, and his mind felt as if it was his own, at last. It was as if someone wanted him to be peaceful, but that was silly since he was literally getting kidnapped by a bird.

What a great day Techno was having, right?

Aaaaand now the crow was flying down, towards three people that looked awfully familiar, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it and then-

Oh fuck that’s Philza, Soot and Innit. He’d recognize them anywhere, after the incident with the statue. Oh, he’s fucked. He’s going to die, oh stars he needs to get out of this mess-

‘But aren’t the gods his family?’

He brushed that thought off with a shudder. Why on earth did he keep thinking stuff like that!? It didn’t make any sense, and you better believe that he was gonna get to the bottom of this.

Not today though. He was about to get caught by some of the most powerful beings in the entire universe, and he’d actually rather not. He valued his life, after all. So he did what any self-respecting borrower would do and fucking stab the bird.

Techno hadn’t particularly wanted to stab the crow. As he might’ve mentioned before, he liked crows. There just hadn’t been another choice.

And it had worked.

The crow dropped him with a screech, alerting the three gods immediately. Their gazes fell on the bleeding crow who flew over to them with a lot of effort and landed on Philza’s outstretched arm. It healed almost instantly.

But the pinkette didn’t know any of this, because he happened to be falling when that situation had played out. And when Techno hit the ground, he felt his body scream out in pain and his head ring in agony.

The world around him felt loud and blurry. His head seemed to be sticky with what he could only assume was blood. He forced himself to stand, he needed to get out of here, needed to be safe-

Chat was back now, just as incoherent and jumbled as his thoughts, and from what he managed to make out, delusional. They kept saying something about… Dadza? Who the hell was- Oh. Wait what!?

So Chat was no help.

Techno winced. He couldn’t think, everything was just so loud and it hurt so damn much and he couldn’t understand and oh fuck did one of the Gods? beans just spot him and oh no they’re all walking towards him now.

The borrower’s eyes widen, and he couldn’t help but shrink back as the three gods towered over him, eyeing him over with such a strange expression of hope and longing that made Techno wonder if he actually was delusional.

The silence was broken when one of the gods, Innit, spoke up, voice breaking slightly and eyes glazed, as if holding back tears.

“Holy shit… Is it him? Like, really him?”

Philza responded, managing to sound calm and yet so desperate that it made Techno’s cold heart shatter, though he was not sure why.

“I don’t know Tommy (wait WHAT-), why don’t we ask him instead of talking over his head?” The angel of death suggested, and now they were all staring at him again, possibly even more intensely than before.

“So,” Philza said curiously. “Who are you, why did you stab my crow and why did it try to bring you here?”

There was no malice in his voice, it was just confusion and subtle amusement, but that just made Techno’s nerves worse. The only reason he could think of that would involve the god being amused about his half-dead state was-

Oh fuck, were they going to torture him?

“I’m Technoblade,” He said, after a few moments of hesitation. The pinkette ignored the sharp gasp of air from above, acting like he didn’t hear it, because he did not want to think of why the god might be shocked, and instead continued.

“I stabbed your crow because I was about to get seen (and look how that ended up) and I have no clue why it brought me here.” Techno knew it was not a smart idea to lie to a god, and he was anything but stupid. His injuries throbbed painfully, but the gods either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

Techno wasn’t about to guess which one…

After a very long while (in which Techno was trying his absolute hardest not to die on the spot) Soot spoke up. “So that’s a- a yes, then? It’s him?” He asked, voice cracking slightly. “Yes, Wilbur, (WHAT THE FUCK) It’s really him.”

The borrower didn’t have time to question what in the world he meant by that, because at that moment Philza reached down, and Techno realised what was about to happen a second too late.

He scrambled backwards as the hand came towards him, absolutely terrified out of his wits, but the god paid no mind to that, plucking him off the ground by his waist easily.

Techno struggled in his grasp but fell limp almost immediately. There was no way he was escaping from Philza, even though he wanted to, and besides, it just made his injuries worse. The tight grip the god had him in didn’t help either.

“What do you want from me!?”

He shouted, glaring at the gods, though it quickly fell as he remembered how easily they could crush him. Soot made a small noise (pity?) but he ignored it. “You- you really don’t remember us?” Asked Innit, with a look of despair on his face.

‘Remember you? I’ve never seen you before in my life!’

Not in this one you haven’t.

Responded one of the voices, before it faded back into the clutter of noise. “Chat?” Philza asked, and Techno almost responded with ‘Yeah, it’s making no sense…’ when he remembered that he never told them about Chat.

Something clicked behind Soot’s eyes, and he spoke up. “So you really don’t know who we are… Right?” Techno nodded. Where exactly was (Wilbur) Soot going with this? “So that means…” “Means what? I’m not about to sit around all day waiting while you give me half-formed answers,” the borrower responded, with more challenge in his tone than was wise.

It’s not like you could stop them from doing that…

Said another one of those loud voices unhelpfully. ‘Thanks a lot…’ He thought to himself irritatedly and stared at Soot expectantly, which was harder than it seemed because his eyes kept unfocusing, and the corners of his vision were blurry and stained red. ‘Blood?’

“Listen, Technoblade, I don’t know what species you think you are, but…” He hesitated again, before continuing.

“You're a god, and our brother, at that.” Soot paused, and then started saying something more. “I’m so glad we finally found you, we’ve-”

But Techno didn’t get to hear what they’d done, the blood loss had finally caught up to him, and he passed out, darkness now surrounding him as he finally drifted into a dreamless sleep.

. . .

Aaaaaand that's it, folks! Great ending we got there, right? Hope you liked it :] Big thanks to Beckyu for helping me choose how to end it, and start next chapter.

That reminds me...

@i-am-beckyu and @brick-a-doodle-do, thank you for wanting to be tagged! If you want to be tagged, comment, ask or dm me and I'll add you! :D

Bye for now!!!

87 notes · View notes

nct-kiss · 3 months

Text

( face claim: xiang hanzhi [ actress ] ) ( voice claim: lea cota )

Stage Name: Lilia

Birth Name: Lilian Lockwood

Nationality: American

Position: Main Dancer, Vocalist

Birthday: December 21st, 1999

Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius

Height: 170 cm ( 5'5 )

Weight: 59 kg (130 lbs)

Blood Type: AB

Representative Emoji: 🍋

Instagram: lil_lockedwoods

LILIA FACTS

She was born in Wuhan, China.

She grew up in San Francisco.

Education: The Urban School of San Francisco, School of Performing Arts.

She was adopted when she was almost a year old.

She has a brother.

Her adoptive parents are both doctors.

She said that she tried reaching out to her birth mother but she was denied contact.

Her favourite colour is sky blue.

Nicknames: Locky, Lily, Woodie, Yingying, Lannie, Lia

She is part of NCT KISS and WayV.

Kun gave her Chinese name which is Lanying.

Motto: What's meant to be will always find a way.

She prefers lemonades over coffee.

She has two guinea pigs called Tinks and Bubbles.

She likes listening to Lofi music whenever she is travelling.

She shares a room with Koyo.

Her hobby is photography.

She was visiting Korea for vacation when she was scouted.

She and Minhee didn't get along when they first met.

During trainee days, she tried stabbing Haechan with a pencil because he was annoying her.

She and Mark became friends over their dislike for Haechan during the trainee days.

She was part of SM Rookies.

She's allergic to seafood.

She doesn't like going to the gym but goes along to sit and keep her members company.

She says that the KISS dorm is like a petting zoo with the amount of pets everyone has.

She has Asthma.

She says that she used to be very sick when she was young and that's why her parents were scared to let her move to Korea.

She says she's the least athletic in the group.

She says she doesn't want to be born again, but if she was, she wants to be a tree.

Her adoptive father passed away in 2020.

taglist: @mosviqu @colourlikechampagne

26 notes · View notes

dragonsdendoodles · 3 months

Text

MPHFPC Incorrect Quotes Masterlist 1

Because I like organizing things :)

next list statistics

No Murder in Walmart

Sitting on the Floor

Stop Undressing Him

You Never Let Me Do Anything

Upside Down Chip Bag

Thumb Condom

Jacob Knows Everything

Lemon Drop Cookie

I Didn't Get My Permit

Suck It

Cocoon Boy

Picnic

Something to Complain About

Patient

A Day of Sensory Issues

Cool Guy Stuff

Watch Me

Egg Shortage

Forgotten How to Fingers

The Last Thing You Registered

Purple

That's a Cockatoo, Actually

Grenades

Can I Cut You?

What's the Point

Adulting

No Thank You

Caffeine and Sugar

Suspicious

Attention Disorder

I Wonder How Painful It Would Be

Daddy Issues

Roadkill

Like Children

Not Short

The Power of Salt

Today's Just Out For My Blood Evidently

Dehydrated

Counterproductive

No Coffee Fuck Off Part 1

Crazy Religious People

The ADHDs

I'm Causing You Pain

Cunt is My WORD, Jacob

Sunset

Morals

Mini Cooper

Dumb Joke

Power Wash

Jelly Beans?

Attention Whore

Five-Second Rule

Lick

Only a Little Bit Satanic

And Whose Fault is That?

You Gotta Dab When You Leave

Bean Water Part 1

/////LIST UNDER CONSTRUCTION/////

*cough* it broke and Levi doesn't wanna fuck with it right now

Bean Water Part 2 (Soy Sass) Yelling It's Your Birthday. Full Circle Mop Juice? An Irish Lad Sugar or Glass Pain in the Ass You Haven't Eaten All Day You're Gonna Papercut My Eyeball! Oh! Helping It's Still 10 pm Have You Lost Object Permanence? NOT a Bean Macaroni You've Met Me That's What She Said British Football No Coffee Fuck Off Part 2 Stop Tickling Me No Comfort Pull Door Not a Child Basically Cake Hugging Lobotomy Hazard to Society You're Just Weak Breakfast of Champions Gifties You Almost Got Me Arrested Cocaine, Obviously Temperature Gun Is That Cheese or Skin? Anarchy Spoons Chip Box Chips Headcanon for Christians The Fuck Word Knives Last Name The Gays Are Coming I Want the Floor

Currently Unposted:

Go to College Since You're Old, and Deaf You've Never Seen a Chalkboard? You Like Trains? Testing Pillows Cheese Part 1 Cheese Part 2 Good Place to Get a Rock I Can Commit War Crimes Matte Black Range Rover Homophobic That's Called Death 10-4 Humidity Pilot Jumping Enoch Stop Drinking Water Okay, Millard Eating You Jelly We Like Murder 12:30 Part 1 12:30 Part 2 Fidget Toy of the Day Gay Month is Dead You Have a Boyfriend? Millard's Book I Prefer "Blessed", Thanks Migraine Are You Crazy? You Dumb Whore I Want a Challenge Spite Debt is Better Not Country Fancy Boy Stop Acting Dead You're Only 5'6 You Are a Smoothie Gaytor Last One at the Table New Nike Motto Even More White Sleep In Dodge Charger Pride Support Group Smudgy Pen Speaking British No Textbooks I Look So Gay Kind of Correctly North Dakota Peanut Allergy It's Fucking Labor Day Light the Hotel on Fire You Know What Else is Weird? Enoch You Do Share Credit Score Wasteful Flannel Bisexual Not an Advocate That is So Real Universal Flannel Who WINKS Anymore? Honest Cars Exploding Watch Your Pronouns Dead Things Chronically Straight Great Liquid Personal Taste Boyfriend Privileges 1:07 Cigarettes? Nerds Gummies I Want a New Brother Out of Character That's Because You're Old Foaming? Big Fork Trigonometry Boy Voice Anxiety Squishy Swedish Fish I'm a Ginger, What Do You Think Oh My God, it's a Man Lengthed Pi Older Than Three Slap-able Catboy Homosexual French Boy and Homosexual Bitch Boy Icing Gremlin 1 and Gremlin 2 No Murder at Walmart: The Sequel Tomatoes No More Husband, Horace The Flu Part 1 Triceratops Loving Murder You Know I Don't Colossal Mess Not All Men Habit of Handling Corpses You're Gay What Color is the Rainbow? Skillet The Flu Part 2 Olives Mad at Me SMART-Smart Spaghettios Smug Mac and Cheese Ooo, Yummy You're Also Nice to Me Dressing, But Crunchy 5'11 Gasoline

28 notes · View notes

bluelocksource · 9 months

Text

Aryū Jyūbei’s trivia (source: twt & Egoist Bible).

"Right now, I’m the most fashionable on this field.”

☆ Character's colour: Champagne gold.

☆ Weapons: Jumping and long limbs.

☆ Birthday: 3rd November.

☆ Current age: 18 (3rd year of high school)

☆ Zodiac: Scorpio.

☆ Birthplace: Tochigi Prefecture.

☆ Family: Father. Mother. Himself.

☆ Current height: 195 cm.

☆ Foot size: 29 cm.

☆ Dominant foot: Right foot.

☆ Blood type: A.

☆ Motto: "Live fashionably, die fashionably"

☆ Team before joining BLUE LOCK: Goko High School football club.

☆ Starts playing football: At age 10.

☆ Favorite color: Sky blue.

☆ Favorite food: Sasa chocolate.

☆ Disliked food: Rice with miso soup.

☆ Favorite animal: A black horse called Frederick the Great.

☆ Favorite season: All four seasons. ”Because every season is fashionable.”

☆ Favorite football player: Andy Carroll (because he’s beautiful)

☆ Favorite song: “Chronostasis” by Kinoko Teikoku.

☆ Favorite anime: Buddha “I have to learn more.”

☆ Favorite movie: Edward Scissorhands "Somehow, I sympathize."

☆ Magazine he often reads: ‘Dai-horin’ (comprehensive Buddhist magazine).

☆ Apps he frequently use: Hot pepper beauty. (it is a search & reservation app for largest beauty salon in Japan.)

☆ Mushroom shoots vs Bamboo shoots: Mushroom.

☆ What goes best with rice : “Ikura (red roe). They look like jewels.”

☆ Hobby: Visiting temples.

☆ What makes him happy: Worship.

☆ What makes him upset: Getting dirty.

☆ What he thinks his strength is: Beautiful and fashionable (from head to toe).

☆ What he thinks his weakness is: “That is not a fashionable question.”

☆ Best subject: Art / Ethics / P.E.

☆ Dislike/weak subject: “There is none.”

☆ What made him cry recently: “When Deep Impact, the beautiful horse, died.”

☆ Usual sleeping time: 7 hours.

☆ What he usually ends up buying from convenience store: Sasa chocolate.

☆ Place he washes first when taking a bath: Whichever part that is the dirtiest.

☆ Number of chocolates received from previous Valentine: 53.

☆ At what age he experiences first love: At age 5. “I fell for Kannon Bodhisattva the first time I saw it in Kamakura when I was in kindergarten. It was beautiful.”

☆ What will he do if received 100 million yen: Hire a professional manicurist.

☆ What age he stops receiving presents from Santa: “I’m going to keep receiving gifts for the rest of my life.”

☆ What was his last wish from Santa: Beauty.

☆ How he spent his holiday: Burn incense and meditate.

☆ What will he do during his last day on Earth: “Sit in front of a mirror and have a heart-to-heart conversation with my beautiful self.”

note: i want to apologize in advance for any mistake made in the translation!

#blue lock #aryuu jyubei #trivia #trivia: aryuu jyubei #trivia: profile #bluelocksource #our translation

56 notes · View notes

kaaaaaaarf · 11 months

Text

🌒🌓🌔masterlist🌖🌗🌘

hello there! i'm karfy. this blog is 18+. minors dni.

ao3 / spotify / ask me

🌕WIPs🌑

back when we were dinosaurs (3/4) - (E , 26.6k+ words, wolfstar, background marylily, fluff, smut, it's my fictional ode to Toronto) track it under the Museum tag / playlist

Remus is the ROM's newest curator of the paleontological wing. Sirius manages the gift shop and has a dinosaur obsession. They are cute little nerds together and sometimes they have sex in the archives

Nobody parts two rivers met (1/3) - (M, 1k+ words, wolfstar, angst) this is a concept fic based on Liz Phair's album 'Exile in Guyville'. track it here.

A man walks into a bar: Sirius has a good life — he fucks around, not really caring if he ruins the lives of the people he's sleeping with. Remus has been taken advantage of his entire life and keeps finding himself with men who don't really want him. Then they meet and everything changes...or does it?

Savour It (I'm Tasty) (1/?) - (M, 782 words+, wolfstar, sausage roll crack)

He tries to ignore it—really, really tries. He tries to focus on large, skillful hands; on the sweat glistening on warm bronze skin; on the tawny curls falling into lovely brown eyes. But the crumbs.

🌕Completed Fics🌑

The Killing Time (unwillingly mine) (3/3) - (M, 17.5k+ words, wolfstar, background jegulily, tw: murder) track it under the Murder Husbands tag general playlist / chapter two playlist / Remus' horny Sirius playlist / wedding schmood playlist + Series: Love, Blood, and Wham: The Life and Death(s) of Remus J. Lupin

Remus becomes the most prolific serial killer in modern history because Sirius is a slut and won’t stop getting engaged.

You better watch out, You Better Watch Out, YOU BETTER WATCH OUT (A Murder Husbands b-side) - (T, 1.6k words, wolfstar, jegulily, Christmas fic, Regulus POV) + Series: Love, Blood, and Wham: The Life and Death(s) of Remus J. Lupin

A very Murder Husbands Christmas. Remus is obsessed with Santa. Regulus is so, so tired.

Now I'm Spreading Your Legs (with mine in between) - (E, 5k words, wolfstar, texting fic, porn with very little plot, aka my Hatefuck fic) / playlist + Series: When You Open Your Legs

Sirius meets famed rockstar Remus Lupin at a pub and they become arch-enemies who really, secretly want to fuck. James is here for it.

I Got My Spoon (inside your jar) - (E, 10.6k words, wolfstar, porn with very little plot, aka the Hatefuck sequel) / playlist + Series: When You Open Your Legs

Sirius scribbles on the back of his receipt and passes it over the bar. “Can you give this to him when you see him next?” Jamal looks down at the scribbled name and number. “Morrissey?” He smirks as he hands over his credit card. “He’ll know who it is.”

touching me (touching you) - (E, 12k words, wolfstar, porn with an increasing amount of plot, aka Hatefuck part 3) / general playlist / Remus' playlist + Series: When You Open Your Legs

“Right, and what’s with the socks?” Remus holds them in front of him with a frown, like they personally offended him. “I figured you could branch out. If you insist on wearing socks with your boat shoes, they may as well show some personality, since you clearly don’t have one.” “Did you have to get me a pair that says Don't Bully Me I’ll Cum in bright, rainbow lettering?” “...yes, obviously? Isn't that your motto?”

It's So Shameful of Me (I like you) - a Hatefuck b-side - (E, 839 words, wolfstar, Remus POV) + Series: When You Open Your Legs

After a disappointing evening, Remus decides to give Sirius a call.

The More You Ignore Me (the closer I get) - (E, 9.8k words, wolfstar, more plot than porn, aka Hatefuck part 4) / playlist + Series: When You Open Your Legs

After everything that happened that fateful October morning in Remus’ apartment, Sirius thought it might be good to get some much needed distance from Remus. He’d re-activated Grindr as soon as he got home, and was really, strongly thinking about maybe hooking up with someone. Truly, he was going to do it—eventually. He was still thinking about it a week later, and enjoying the relative peace that not having Remus in your life brings—that is, until the phone calls started.

I Had A Dream That You Were Mine - a Hatefuck b-side - (T, 1.1k words, wolfstar, as close to fluff as these fuckers get) + Series: When You Open Your Legs

It’s just after midnight on a random Wednesday in November, and Sirius is perched on a rickety barstool, tucked away in an alcove at the far end of the bar—beer in hand. He's absently tapping his foot to the rhythm of whatever song is blaring through the speakers overhead, trying not to check his watch for the fiftieth time in ten minutes. He's bored, and not entirely sure why he came at all. Well, he thinks, that’s not entirely true—it’s Remus. Remus is the reason he came.

Rolling In The Deep - (E, 750 words, divorced wolfstar, porn with very little plot) + Series: Hatefuck Extended Universe

Somehow, a quick interaction — a hello, now take your stuff and get the fuck out — turned into a screaming match, and before he knew it they were here, fucking on what would have been Sirius' side of the bed before everything went to shit.

Only Get (My Rocks) Off - (E, 2k words, wolfstar, porn with very little plot) + Series: Hatefuck Extended Universe

They say that every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings. Every time Remus has to listen to his neighbour’s fucking drainpipe clink against the side of the house, Remus gets a migraine and a hard-on.

You Grew Tall (I Stayed The Same) - (G, 1400k words, hogwarts era, wolfstar, fluff)

"Don't laugh.” He turns to find Remus scowling in the direction of Sirius’ feet, his back hunched comically low. “I'm not laughing, Moony!” He was definitely laughing, but he really couldn't help it. Remus truly looked ridiculous. Like a baby giraffe, all unsteady, knobby knees. He’d had a growth spurt over the summer (his third in a year) and his school uniform shorts now barely reached mid-thigh.

Ah-Ooh (werewolves of london) - (G, 1k words, hogwarts era, background wolfstar, hurt/comfort if the comfort was a piano)

He flexes his aching fingers and clumsily plays the first few notes of a familiar tune. He sings along, quietly at first, gradually becoming more confident. I saw a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hand...

Don't Be Scared (i love you) - (G, 1k words, wolfstar, post first wizarding war, hurt/comfort)

It’s been three years since the end of the war, and Remus still has nightmares so vivid that he forgets where he is. He wakes up dissociating and doesn't know what’s real and what’s not.

my blood is singing with your voice - (M, 750 words, wolfstar, horror, midsommar au) / playlist

Someone is laughing.

In ár gCroíthe go deo - (T, 1k words, wolfstar, irish remus lupin, older wolfstar)

A meditation on the meaning of home, and what it means to long for a place that lives in your bones. Title translates from Irish to "In our hearts forever"

I Knew Your Love Before I Knew Your Name - (G, 380 words, wolfstar, cowboy remus)

Sirius is in a truck with a truly beautiful man.

soft like silk chiffon - (E, 1.8k words, wolfstar, remus in a silk slip) / inspired by this gorgeous drawing by Indi

Remus, who is leaning casual as-you-like against the kitchen counter, wearing the ivory coloured silk slip that Sirius bought him as a joke for his last birthday.

Here I Am (a rabbit-hearted boy) - (G, 664 words, hogwarts era, background wolfstar, wererabbit remus crack)

Remus' tiny body shakes in fear. Finally, after an impossibly long moment, Sirius seems to come back to himself. "R—Remus? Are you—you're a werewolf?" …I'm a what now?

i'm green, you're green - (G, 2.9k words, wolfstar, adaptation of Frog and Toad) / playlist

Once upon a time, not too long ago, there lived a Frog called Sirius and a Toad called Remus. They were neighbours in a beautiful garden. Oh, how they loved one another! They were the truest of friends. These are their adventures.

🌕In Progress🌑

I am currently actively working on several Wolfstar fics that are not yet posted to ao3. You can track updates on my account:

psychopomp (see how it shines) - M. Hades/Charon greek myth au. Sirius is Hades, Remus is Charon. wolfstar. background jily. track it here.

A workplace romance in literal hell.

untitled kidnapping au - M. wolfstar. track it here.

Remus kidnaps the Black brothers and they are both so, so mean to him.

🌕Playlists🌑

All of my playlists are available here.

🌕FAQ🌑

Do you take playlist requests?

Yes! I do!

Can I post your fic to Goodreads (or Storygraph)?

No! You may not!

Can I re-post your fic to third party websites, such as Wattpad?

I posted my work to ao3 (and in one case to my tumblr), and there it shall remain. You do not have my permission to re-post any of my works.

Can I bind your fic?

As long as it's for yourself or as a gift to someone! It must be not-for-profit and please do not use an online (or irl) printing service. I also ask that if you do, that you reach out to me and show me the final product!! I would love to see your binds.

Can I translate your fic into other languages?

I would prefer it if you didn't. Please reach out to me if you want to talk about it, though. There may be certain circumstances where I'd be amenable, but you need to respect it if I say no.

Can I put your fic into an AI generator?

I can't believe I have to say this, but no. Please do not use AI in connection with any of my work. This includes using it to create art based on anything I have created. AI causes harm to artists and authors. Please be cool, you guys.

#pinned post #about me #masterlist #marauders #playlist #epicblueblanket #wolfstar

86 notes · View notes

pink-sparkly-witch · 1 year

Text

The Widow - Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Pairing: Sam Winchester x F!Reader (past) | Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, fluff

Words: 2,416

You can catch up here!

My Masterlist AO3 Ko-Fi

Dean’s POV

Dean doesn’t feel better for the amount of whiskey he drank last night. He feels worse. Much worse. The guilt hasn’t been washed away like he’d hoped it would be; not just guilt that he’d fucked his brother’s widow, but also that he’d left her alone in his bed afterwards. That was not one of his finer moments, and if he could take it back, he’d have stayed there with her wrapped in his arms all night long.

Last night with Y/N was everything he could’ve imagined and more, but he knows not to hope for anything more than that. She’s far too good for him. Too kind. Too caring. Too beautiful. He doesn’t deserve her. Especially after he tricked her into kissing him and then took her to bed. And the hatred he had for himself just kept on coming. How could he do that?

He really fucked things up. He always does. Another reason he doesn’t deserve her – or rather, she doesn’t deserve him. He can feel tears prick at his eyes again, but sniffs them back as he hears movement from upstairs. Y/N will be down soon, and he’ll be damned if she sees him cry like a baby when he knows she’s hurting way more than he is right now.

As soon as she walks through the door, he looks down, feeling far too cowardly to look at her. “Morning, sweetheart. How’d you sleep?” He asks, trying to make himself look busy.

“Fine. Though it looks like you’ve had a rough night,” Y/N replies, and Dean can hear the tremor in her voice. He swears if he could punch himself in the face he’d knock himself out cold for what he’s done to her.

“Couldn’t sleep. You want coffee?” He glances up at her for the first time, but only because he hears her keys jangling.

“I have to go.” Y/N’s voice is monotone, and he squeezes his eyes shut, knowing that all her pain and anger is because of him.

“Sweetheart, I thought we were gonna talk about this? You promised me, good or bad,” he begs. Yes, she did promise him that, but he’s well aware that he shifted the goalposts on that promise when he took her into his bed.

“And we will,” her voice is trembling and her eyes are watering, and Dean would rather face the hounds of hell than see this much pain on her beautiful face. “But I can’t right now, okay?” She avoids eye contact with him as she turns to walk away.

“Y/N, please! Don’t walk away from me on this! It’s too important. You’re too important.” Dean knows he’s losing her, and desperately tries to stop her from walking out that door, because he fears that if she does, he’ll never see her again.

“And I said I can’t right now, Dean!” Her tears fall thick and fast and her words leave her in a sob. “I need some time with all of this, okay? It’s too much. And I’m meeting Jody soon. I’ll call you later, so why don’t you get some sleep now that I’m not in your bed,” she finishes with pure venom in her voice and wipes the tears from her eyes as she turns to walk out the door.

“Y/N! It’s not like that, I swear! You’ve got it all wrong!” Dean shouts, but is met with nothing but the sound of his door slamming.

Running after her and trying to get to her before she drives off, he swings the door open and sprints down the front steps, but he isn’t quick enough. Y/N is already in the car and is driving down the street.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean yells, not caring for his neighbours or the early hour, and goes back inside and slams the door shut. Picking up his cell phone, he calls the only person he trusts with something this big.

“Dad? I messed up with Y/N and I don’t know if I can fix it.”

“You gonna tell me what happened, son, or are you just gonna sit there and hope it goes away?” John asks, but Dean keeps his eyes fixed on the floor.

With a loud sigh, John sits next to him and also remains silent. Dean had always had a deep, sensitive side – just like his mother, John always told him – and Dean knew his father would sit right there next to him until he was ready to talk about it.

“I slept with Y/N,” Dean eventually murmurs, glancing up only when John lets out a low whistle.

“Didn’t she have a date last night?” he frowns, and Dean can see the cogs turning behind his concerned gaze.

“Yeah. It was the perfect date with the perfect guy,” Dean sighs, and drags his hand over his face.

“I’m not following here,” John chuckles. “If it was the perfect date with the perfect guy, why did she end up in your bed?”

“She came to me upset after the date because Jacob,” Dean scoffs his name, “apparently, was the perfect gentleman and took her on the perfect date and kissed her goodnight. But Y/N didn’t feel anything. She said she felt numb and then got even more upset asking me if Sammy was the only person she was supposed to be with, and if she was broken for not feeling anything with date dude.

“I tried to convince her she was wrong, that he just wasn’t the guy for her, but she was too far inside her head, you know how she gets. She was gonna go home, but I didn’t think she should be alone. I kissed her as a kinda experiment to see if she felt anything with me. I was expecting disgust, honestly, but she started to kiss back and it just…” Dean doesn’t finish his thought. Doesn’t need to, so he lets it hang in the air.

“And it led to you two having sex,” John nods in understanding of his son’s panicked babbling. “What makes you think you’ve fucked things up with her?”

“After, when she was asleep, the guilt I felt that I’d slept with Sammy’s wife and that I took advantage of her… it was killing me and I went downstairs and drank. And I cried,” Dean’s voice was cracking as he tried to keep his emotions in check. “And I begged him to forgive me for falling in love with his girl, and I prayed that she wouldn’t hate me in the morning.”

“You left her alone after sleeping with her? Dean, tell me you went back to bed?” John asks and curses loudly. “How could you do that? Do you know what she must’ve been feeling?”

“Dad–”

“No, you will listen to me!” John barks, and Dean is quick to shut his mouth and slump down in the chair. “You are the first person she’s been with since her husband and you left her alone? You say you felt guilty about it, how do you think she felt, Dean? Do you think she doesn’t feel guilty? Doesn’t feel like she has betrayed her husband by sleeping with his brother? Do you think maybe she woke up in the morning, alone, in a cold, empty bed and thought ‘oh, I’m just another notch on Dean’s bedpost,’ on top of the guilt and the betrayal and the shame, huh? Did you even stop to think about that?”

“I didn’t,” Dean admits sadly. “I got so caught up in thinking about Sammy and that I’d taken advantage of her that I never stopped to consider how she was feeling.”

“Y/N is not one to be taken advantage of, son. If she slept with you, it’s because she wanted to,” John states firmly before the two men share a moment of silence. Dean, at least, is thankful for a break in the interrogation and hopes a break in tension happens soon too.

“Listen, Dean,” John speaks, much calmer than he’d been before. “She’d chop off your balls if you tried something she didn’t want!” he smirks and, with a sad smile Dean nods in agreement with him.

“If you want my opinion, Dean, you need to sit down with her and talk about this and what comes next. And you need to accept how she feels and what she says.” John claps Dean’s shoulder and stands, making his way to the fridge and pulling out two bottles of beer.

“Nah,” Dean shakes his head, refusing the beer. “I think I’ll go to the garage for a few hours. Seems like a good time to bash the frame of that Mustang back into shape. Give me time to think a bit before I call her.”

“Don’t leave it too long, Dean. She needs to know she wasn’t a mistake,” John’s voice is firm and leaves no room for argument.

“Yes, sir,” Dean replies as he stands and puts his jacket on.

“And Dean? If you need it, you have my blessing to be with her. And I’m sure you have Sammy’s too. If you’re in love and will be happy together, then I support you. Sam would want her to be happy and to be with a good man. You’re a good man, Dean, but you need to fix this. I’m not losing both of them,” John warns and Dean nods.

“You won’t,” he promises. “I’ll fix it.”

Working out all the dents and scratches, and doing the welding work on the body of the beat up old Mustang was somewhat therapeutic to Dean, and he felt like he’d managed to work out most of his frustrations at himself within a few hours. Y/N had mentioned that morning that she was meeting Jody and he didn’t think she’d lie to him about something like that, so he’d give her a little more time before he went over.

The thought that if he called her, she wouldn’t pick up has been at the forefront of his mind, so he decided showing up at her house, knowing she’ll let him in even if it was reluctantly, is the better option. She’s too polite to turn him away, and he knows she wouldn’t make a scene at her doorstep with her nosy neighbours always watching from their windows.

As Dean cleans up the shop and puts away the tools he’s been using, his phone starts to ring. With a heavy dread settling in his stomach, he sees that it’s Jody calling, and he knows she’s going to tear him a new one.

“Hey, Jody,” he answers the call, trying to hide his nerves.

“How are you, Dean?” she asks, concern lacing her voice, and it takes him off guard.

“I’ve been better,” he chuckles sadly.

“I bet,” Jody responds.

“How’s Y/N?” Dean asks before holding his breath for the answer.

“I’d say about as good as you,” Jody laughs softly. “Look, Dean, I’m not calling to burst your balls, but I do need to know one thing.”

“Anything,” Dean agrees quickly.

“Do you regret what happened last night?” Jody asks and Dean’s heart shatters.

“What? No! Of course not,” he insists sincerely.

“She thinks you do, Dean.”

“Shit! She does? Is that why she couldn’t get away from me quick enough this morning?” Dean feels a small bloom of hope in his chest that this won’t end as badly as he thinks it will.

“Alright, I don’t have a lot of time here, Y/N’s in the restroom and will be back any minute, so I’m just gonna say this. You slept with her then left her alone in bed all night while you were drowning your sorrows in a bottle of whiskey. She wakes up to an empty bed, feeling guilty for betraying her husband, and when she comes downstairs she finds an empty liquor bottle and the first man she’s fucked since her husband avoiding eye contact with her. How would you interpret that, Dean?”

“Fuck!” Dean yells, feeling even worse than he did this morning if that was possible.

“You need to talk this out with her,” Jody advises sternly.

“You’re right, I do. And I’m planning on going to the house later. I wanted to make sure she was home from seeing you first,” Dean replies. “Can you do me a favour and text me when she’s on her way?”

“I’ll convince her to order dessert at The Bunker. It shouldn’t be hard, her favourite is on the specials,” Jody says, and Dean can hear the smile in her voice. “I can stall her for about an hour if you want to come by and drive her home.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll be waiting outside. Thanks, Jody,” Dean smiles.

“No problem, kiddo. Good luck!”

And with that, Jody ends the call. Smiling for the first time all day, Dean quickly finishes tidying up before hurrying home to shower and change into clean clothes before going to see Y/N. The last thing he needs is to be having a serious conversation and pouring his heart out while covered in grease and sweat.

Dean gets to The Bunker with time to spare, but he wouldn’t have had it any other way. He wants to be waiting for her. He wants her to know that she’s important to him and that he wants to fix things between them.

He parks Baby outside the restaurant and gets out of the car, leaning against her hood and waiting patiently for Y/N. When he sees her walking towards him, his heart skips a beat, and he can’t remember a time when he’d felt more nervous, and it reaffirms just how much she’s come to mean to him these past few months.

Dean watches as she laughs with Jody, but his heart sinks when he sees her stop suddenly, her smile fading as their eyes meet. He keeps his eyes on her and sees Jody lean in and say something to her.

After the brief conversation, the women hug and part ways, and Jody sends a wink and a thumbs up his way. Y/N lowers her gaze and slowly walks towards him. When he opens the passenger door for her, she finally glances up.

“Hey,” she says as she gets in the car.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiles, but he isn’t confident it reaches his eyes, because he’s so damn nervous about what comes next.

Next Chapter>>

#the widow #dean winchester x reader #au dean winchester x reader #angst #tw: grief #tw: grieving

158 notes · View notes

liebgotts-lovergirl · 5 months

Text

Fire On Fire: Chapter 28

(Ch. 27) ... (Ch. 1)

II Gallery II Symbol Guide II

Summary: “If we could light up the room with pain, we’d be such a glorious fire.” - Ada Limon

WARNINGS: Graphic Violence, Death, Espionage, Survivor's Guilt, the usual.

A/N: I'm so sorry it's taken me fucking FOREVER to get this out, y'all! A LOT has been going on in these past months (the demise of a longterm relationship, renovations on my house, new jobs etc) but I hope this is worth the wait! 💖

Taglist: @latibvles @softguarnere @brassknucklespeirs @mccall-muffin @lieutenant-speirs @bellewintersroe @emmythespacecowgirl @holdingforgeneralhugs @parajumpboots @hxad-ovxr-hxart @sleepisforcowards @suugrbunz @ax-elcfucker-blog @chaosklutz @mads-weasley @vibing-away @eightysix-baby @ithinkabouttzu @emmylindersson @flowers-and-fichte

Contemporary: Midnight, December 3rd, 1944. Liart Station, France.

When the door to her private train compartment was opened, Alix made a silent promise to herself: As soon as the war was over, she was turning in her goddamn resignation letter to the OSS and going home. She couldn’t handle any more surprises on the job, not like this one.

“Sorry, I’m late, gorgeous," a lowered voice had remarked wryly as soon as the compartment door slid shut once more.

"You wouldn’t believe the traffic.”

The whisper came from a young man in a heavy coat who casually dropped into the seat next to her as though he belonged there. The dark brim of his fedora was pulled low over his eyes, casting his face in shadow, but she didn’t need to see its entirety to know who it was; she would recognize that gravelly voice anywhere.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded out of the corner of her mouth, making sure to keep her expression neutral as she flipped through her newspaper and fought the urge to smack the newcomer with it.

“Thought Nix woulda told ya,” Liebgott looked almost amused, a smirk playing on his lips.

He too spoke out of the corner of his mouth; someone had taught him well.

“Donovan needed an interrogator with an Austrian dialect. Said this one’s gonna be a real doozy. Called me in as a temp.”

Alix’s dark eyes narrowed, causing her blue contacts to sting.

“You’re the floater? You’re–”

“Lieutenant Fritz Eberhardt,” he finished with a nod, casually taking his right hand out of his pocket to reveal the worn, silver skull ring of the Werwolf Kommandos, engraved with the tell-tale motto of the SS:

‘Meine Ehre Heisst Treue’.

My Honor Means Loyalty.

How ironic.

The paratrooper and translator shot her a roguish wink, leaning back with an arm stretched out lazily along the back of his seat like nothing was wrong.

“I've been assigned to accompany you to your Paris engagement, Fraulein."

The spy stiffened.

This was the first time that she could recall ever seeing Joe out of uniform and it would be a shame to get blood all over his nice coat but sweet Jesus, Alix was about ready to make that sacrifice.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the auburn-haired girl muttered under her breath. “You’re going to get us both killed.”

“You don’t gotta worry ‘bout me,” Joe chuckles. “Trust me-”

"Right, because that's gone so well for me before," the spy snapped sharper than intended.

Joe's eyebrows shot to the compartment ceiling, his cocky demeanor gone in a flash, replaced by a sudden scowl.

"The hell's that supposed to mean?"

Before Alix could find the words to reply, the shrill whistle of the train screamed out, indicating their departure from Liart Station and the spy took a shaky breath, hearing the rumbling of the wheels on the track underneath them.

She was stuck with him now.

Trying to ignore the ache in her chest at Joe's unexpected presence, Alix tried to force her unfocused eyes to stare at the newspaper in her hands but the words only blurred before her.

"Didja do a bug sweep already?" Joe inquired with a casual yawn as he glanced across her to the window, while Alix flipped the page of her newspaper so hard that she nearly tore it.

"Of course I did," the spy answered indignantly, unable to contain her irritation.

"That's why you were supposed to come early: to help me look. Listening devices could've been anywhere in here."

“Don’t gimme that shit,” Joe scoffed in an almost dismissive tone as he tapped the filter of his Reemtsma cigarette.

“Since the liberation, the Krauts have lost a lot of resources and stick to their secret little underground social clubs or whatever. I got the whole rundown from HQ.”

Alix huffed.

Joe was right, damn him.

While on the surface, France had cleaned up its act, the rotten undergrowth of Nazis and their collaborators remained, festering beneath the surface.

The chances of them taking the time to bug train compartments were miniscule at best.

“Still,” she responded with a petulant roll of her eyes. “You should’ve been here on time. You never know.”

"Yeah, well you ain't the only one with shit to take care of, okay? I got held up."

Alix's dark eyes flickered up from her newspaper.

"Define 'held up'," she said coolly, an undeniably bitter edge to her tone. “What, pray tell, was so pressing?”

Joe crossed his arms and took a long drag off his cigarette before replying snippily,

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Tatiana.”

"It's Tanya, Alix snapped before flipping another page on her newspaper as though she were reading it instead of boring holes into Joe’s face.

“And I would like to know, actually. Because I'd like to think you wouldn't be late to your first assignment without a good reason but maybe I don't know you as well as I thought."

“Fine.”

Joe's warm brown eyes were suddenly as hard as the wood paneling in the compartment they shared but he shifted the side of his coat up nonetheless, just enough to show a huge cherry-red stain that had blossomed across one side of his ribs.

"There, that a good enough reason for ya?"

“Madonna mia!” Alix exclaimed, all pretense of anger gone in a flash. “What the hell happened?! Are you alright?”

Joe shrugged nonchalantly.

“Somebody did a shit job friskin' the prisoners so ol' Jerry got to bring a fuckin' boot knife with him to interrogation,” he muttered as he readjusted his coat. "'S not as bad as it looks.”

"Did you have Gene take a look at it?" Alix asked, eyeing his red-soaked shirt with concern. "That's a lot of blood…"

"No, I didn't have 'Gene' look at it," Joe shot back, a mocking edge to his voice as he spat the medic's name, biting down on his cigarette.

"’S fine. Barely a scratch."

The auburn-haired girl snorted, unable to keep the skepticism out of her tone.

"Right, and I'm the Queen of England."

The translator took a long drag, his expression unreadable.

“Well, I ain’t your problem anymore,Your Majesty,” he remarked sardonically as he let the smoke curl into the air.

"So you can lay off."

“You’ll always be my problem,” Alix grumbled under her breath and the pair lapsed into a chilly silence, broken only by the occasional rustling of the newspaper under her fingertips and the rumbling of the train on the tracks.

Still keeping her head angled downward to avoid that familiar ache that seemed to rise in her chest whenever she looked him in the face, Alix let herself study the compartment instead.

In truth, their private compartment was borderline ostentatious – plush maroon upholstery upon the seating, rich mahogany paneling upon the walls, thick velvet curtains adorning the windows to keep the outside world at bay– but the spy could barely concentrate on the luxurious decor either.

Instead, she found herself studying Joe's hands. She still had only fleeting memories of him from before her fall but his hands were one of the few things she remembered the most.

They had been paler back in England, not yet marred by the blood and grime of the battlefield, the blue veins still snaking up the back all the way to his wrist. She remembered tangled sheets and breathless laughter as they each struggled to catch their breath. She remembered her own scarlet-polished nails tracing each vein in the hand resting beside her, feeling the way his pulse would quicken when she smiled at him.

His fingers were still as calloused and long as she remembered, almost graceful in their strength, and she could still feel the ghost of them interlocking with her own like missing puzzle pieces finally finding their way together.

There weren’t any more ink stains on his fingertips, Alix realized, and she was suddenly half-tempted to make a snide remark about chasing two girls and getting neither, but she kept her silence.

No need to make an already awkward situation worse, she thought as she chewed on her bottom lip.

Like it or not, they had a mission to complete.

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

The French countryside seemed to pass by in blurs of green, gold, and blue, like the vibrant swirls of a priceless Van Gogh but Alix hardly noticed.

The spy had been fiddling with the worn handle of a discarded leather briefcase that had been left behind in the luggage rack under her seat. Beside her, Joe was violently twisting the Werwolf skull ring around and around upon his finger, wrenching it with such ferocity that it looked as though he might tear his finger off in the process.

"I hate this," he muttered bitterly, seemingly more to himself than to Alix as he glared down at his calloused hands.

"I fuckin' hate this."

"Hate what?" the spy inquired softly, cocking her head and allowing some of her auburn hair to fall over one shoulder.

Joe glanced up at the sound of her voice, clearly not expecting her to speak to him, but he recovered fast as ever.

"This," he replied simply, gesturing to the Werwolf skull ring.

"Wearing this. Gevalt, it makes me wanna claw my fuckin' skin off.”

Alix felt a pang of sympathy. She couldn’t even fathom the excruciating cognitive dissonance Joe must be experiencing right now, playing a role he despised…but why bother playing it in the first place?

Why put himself through the unnecessary pain? He was only a floater– a consultant– for this one mission. He had the power to back out at any time. It didn’t make sense but then, nothing about Joe seemed to make much sense lately.

Alix watched as he lit up another cigarette, his third in an hour, glaring across her, out the window at something unseen.

He was chainsmoking again, like he always did when he was agitated, and all she could do was let the silence sit and watch him wrench the skull ring harder and harder around his finger.

It was unsettling when Joe was quiet: his rage she could combat; his brooding she couldn’t.

The auburn-haired spy found herself sneaking quick glances over at him out of the corner of her eye, the tension hanging thick in the air around them like the early morning fog.

Surprisingly, Joe was the first to break.

“Look, you got somethin’ to say, just say it.”

“What is there to say?” Alix retorted, her grip on the briefcase’s handle tightening considerably.

“I’m perfectly capable of traveling on my own. I don't need a floater and I certainly don't need you.”

Joe crossed his arms and leaned his head back against the seat.

“Well tell that to Donovan then, ziskeit,” he yawns.

"'Cause I got orders to watch your six till the job's done."

Alix opened her mouth to complain but she was interrupted by a light knocking on the compartment door and Joe immediately shoved his right hand deep into his pocket to hide the infamous skull ring.

A disgruntled train attendant appeared, regarding both Joe and Alix with the same beady, bloodshot stare as he stepped inside, sliding the door shut behind him.

“Papers,” the Frenchman demanded with an outstretched hand.

Alix nodded with a casual “Certainement” and set aside the discarded briefcase, retrieving her false identification from her handbag and passing it to the man with what she hoped was a convincingly haughty eyeroll.

The attendant--whose yellowed nametag identified him as Guillaume-- wore a peevish expression almost identical to their old CO, Captain Sobel, which brought a smirk to Alix's face.

The thought of the sadistic superior officer who had made their lives hell for so long being reduced to a glorified bellhop punching tickets and checking IDs was enough to bring them both a smidgen of joy.

Her gaze flickered over to Joe, who returned the smirk with one of his own, the inside joke seeming to almost bridge the gap between them.

The attendant skimmed over Alix's paperwork, handing it back to her without issue, and then it was Joe's turn.

“You, identification.”

Compliantly, Joe dug into his jacket pocket for his passport with his left hand but as he passed the small booklet to the attendant, it slipped from his fingers toward the carpet.

Automatically, the translator’s dominant hand shot out of his right pocket to intercept them but it was too late: the skull ring on his right hand was in full view.

The attendant swore as he snatched up Joe’s fake Austrian passport, staring down at it and back to the tell-tale ring as his face reddened with rage.

“Y-You-” he snarled, his lip curled in disgust and a gloved finger shaking as he pointed at Joe. “You are-”

“Wha- No, no!” Joe protested, immediately reaching out for his passport back in a desperate bid to quiet him.

“I’m not-”

But the Frenchman shoved him off roughly and spat an anti-German epithet at him as Joe’s back hit the seat.

“Boche!”

Joe’s eyes narrowed instantly at the slur and he came back strong, lunging forward to seize the attendant by the collar but Alix stood up, trying to shove her way between them to keep the scuffle from getting out of hand.

The auburn-haired spy could smell the heavy stench of cheap wine on the older man's breath as she separated the pair and she knew there was no reasoning with him.

The drunken attendant spun on his heel, immediately heading for the compartment door, his final words slurred as his rage boiled over.

“Filthy swine! Nazi pig! You-”

Alix felt a block of ice drop into her stomach as the man’s large, gloved hand reached the door handle.

It was no secret that since the liberation, people of German extraction weren't exactly welcome in most of French polite society.

The épuration sauvage was in full-swing, thousands of suspected collaborators being beaten, tortured, and executed by incensed crowds of French people.

If this man went and ran his mouth off about a Werwolf Kommando on the train, Joe could be mobbed as soon as he set foot outside their compartment.

This chilling revelation seemed to flip a switch in Alix’s brain: If the man left their compartment, Joe’s life could be in danger.

She couldn’t take that risk.

Slipping behind the drunken attendant with the silent ease of a tigress, the world seemed to slow around her as her training kicked in. Hopping onto the seat for a better vantage point, Alix reached out and yanked the attendant backwards into the compartment by the collar.

The man staggered a couple steps back, thrown off-balance in his surprise, just close enough for Alix to deftly slice the small blade of her lipstick knife across his throat.

The weapon reached the targeted arteries with surgical precision, right below the larynx. Now unable to scream, the man could only gasp and gargle as his legs gave out and he sank downwards toward the carpet in a heap. Following him down to the ground, Alix gathered the excess fabric of her dress's skirt and slapped the material over the wound to stifle the bright arcs of blood that were spurting out like a gruesome fountain.

The pale lace was already growing heavy, turning from an icy blue to a deep, blood-soaked maroon, the arterial spray oozing through the delicate material slower and slower as the man’s heart gradually stopped beating.

Then the attendant went limp, his jaw falling slack as a sickening gurgle emanated from his cut throat, and the auburn-haired spy knew he was gone.

No loose ends, she told herself inwardly, repeating the instructions of her superiors over and over like a mantra in her head.

He could have gotten Joe killed. You did the right thing.

But did she?

She didn’t even remember pulling the knife, not really.

Not that it mattered: a civilian was still dead.

Alix’s hands were shaking as she stared down at the attendant’s lifeless form, too scared to see the shock and revulsion written all over Joe’s handsome face.

He’d never seen her kill, after all.

If he didn’t hate her before, he most certainly would now.

But when she finally looked up, there was nothing like that.

No disgust, no outrage, no fear.

Instead, there was the same old glint to his gaze and an unspoken warmth in his whiskey-brown eyes that filled her with a strange calm.

“Well ya didn’t hafta do all that, Zees,” Joe remarked finally as a small, lopsided smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“But I ‘preciate it. Nice to know you care.”

“I don’t,” the auburn-haired girl muttered as she knelt, quickly rifling through the corpse’s bloodied uniform for anything useful.

A billfold full of francs and an identification card from the train company.

Alix handed the wallet over to Joe, averting her gaze to ignore the way her pulse quickened at the brush of their fingertips.

“He was putting the mission in jeopardy,” she added lamely and straightened up, shifting the thick curtains to the side so she could undo the window’s latch.

“Yeah?” Joe snorted as he dragged the lifeless body by its outstretched arms to the open window and turned back to shoot her a sly wink over his shoulder.

His usual crooked grin quirked up one corner of his lips wryly, almost flirtatiously, and the knowing expression in his whiskey-colored eyes caused a small flurry of butterflies to appear once more in her stomach.

It was like he could see right through her.

“Well Ziskeit, ‘the mission’ thanks you.”

With a grunt, the scrappy paratrooper managed to haul the corpse half onto the window’s ledge before turning back to his partner.

“Now let's get this mamzer dealt with, huh?”

Alix hoisted the corpse's legs up, giving it a final, unceremonious shove out the window, sending it rolling down into the snowy French countryside somewhere.

That was one problem taken care of...But unfortunately, there were more where that came from.

"Madonna mia," Alix swore as she frowned down at the blood-spattered blue material of her dress.

“I gotta dump this somewhere.”

Joe took his seat again and shrugged, watching Alix's nimble fingers close the window once more and re-draw the curtains.

“So change then."

The auburn-haired girl balked, nearly losing her footing in her surprise.

“Right now?"

“Nah, next Tuesday,” the paratrooper deadpanned with a melodramatic roll of his eyes. “Christ, Zees, you're actin' like I ain't ever seen ya undress before. Hey, remember that one night at your billet when-”

“Don’t remind me,” Alix muttered, the infuriatingly obvious blush of her cheeks making her grit her teeth as the night he is referring to comes back in vivid colors.

She shook her head to banish the memories, her straightened auburn hair tumbling down her shoulders.

"Besides, it was a long time ago anyway. It doesn't matter now."

The lie tasted bitter as cyanide.

"Yeah?" Joe took another slow drag off his cigarette, watching the smoke curl up to the ceiling before he spoke again, his raspy tenor flat with thinly-veiled hurt.

"Guess that's the difference between you an' me. 'Cause to me, it matters a fuckin' lot."

24 notes · View notes

goldeneyedgirl · 4 months

Text

TwiFicmas23 Day 10: Hybrid AU

Good evening! I had my first drink in a hot minute tonight and it has hit me like a battering ram, so we're doing this fast because I am definitely feeling the effects.

Tonight's is some old Hybrid; it'll be pretty obvious why this ended up being archived (and I honestly don't know if this counts as Hybrid or Hybrid baby-verse).

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy it!

tw: mention of miscarriage

After the Cullens left, I was kind of at a loss. I know they hoped Bella and I would stick together, but that didn’t happen.

Simon and Dad were sympathetic and let me mope around the house a bit. But I was exhausted. I was sleeping sixteen hours a day when I had the opportunity and still felt like I had pulled an all-nighter. My schoolwork was fairly average but enough that no one called Dad. I managed to scrape enough energy together to help plan Cynthia’s fifteenth birthday party, and then Thanksgiving.

It was Christmas Day when I figured out what was wrong with me. I was exhausted all the time, and eating ridiculous amounts of food but still looked like a prisoner of war. I got out of bed and went into the bathroom, getting on the scales to find out that I’d lost another two pounds. Simon would notice soon, and I had no idea what to tell him.

And then I spied Cynthia’s box of tampons on the shelf, and I had to brace myself on the counter for a moment. My period was a rare and unwelcome visitor, and hardly a trustworthy indicator of anything but... it made sense.

“Oh, Alice, honey, this arrived for you a couple of days ago,” Simon said, plucking a small box from under the tree. It was still in its mailing box, with my name and address typed on the label but no return address or indication of who it was from.

Inside was a small black jewelry box, and for a second, I thought perhaps Jasper had sent me something. I hoped he’d sent me something. Even just a letter would have fixed everything.

I ripped into it, and the contents spilled into my lap, and it took me a moment to understand what I was looking at. It was a silver sun charm on a black ribbon, with smaller stars dotted along the band, though one was missing.

It had been my mother’s. I remembered her wearing it; she'd never taken it off. I could see the stain of blood on the ribbon, the frayed edge where the knife bit into her, and for a moment, the room swam.

“Who is it from?” Dad asked curiously.

I put the necklace down with shaking hands, trying hard to act normal, and plucked the card up. It was black too, with a white crest – the shield, candle, and compass of the Benoits, the Latin motto running along the bottom – Ex Deus Veritas. Truth in God, coined by the Order.

On the back of the card, the message was short.

Our best wishes of the season to you and your family, Mary-Alice.

Meaning: we know where you and your family are.

The bag I packed was like so many others. Basic, warm clothing; my first aid kit, a new phone I had bought in Port Angeles, money. I had ordered a ton of gift cards over the internet, since they weren’t traceable. Nothing sentimental was meant to come with me, but in the end, I saved a photograph of Jasper and I to my new phone.

And then I left Forks.

it sounds all fun and luxurious to say I ran off to Hawaii.

The truth was, Mexico would have been way better but with the vampire and Order problem down there, I chose the one place in America you are least likely to get cornered by a vampire: Hawaii.

Specifically Paukaa, which was home to less than 600 people. I was nothing more than another post-high school traveler who decided to stay. I rented a tiny one-room place from a family and got a job at a café. It was quiet and safe and I settled into a mind-numbing existence.

I hadn’t contacted anyone back in Forks or even checked my email. As far as everyone was concerned, Mary-Alice Brandon had disappeared for the last time – I half-hoped they’d declare me dead.

I was Mary Hale here.

It was a little embarrassing, yes, taking Jasper’s fake surname, but it kept me hidden because I doubted anyone would think to run a search on that name. And none of the Cullens called me ‘Mary’ anyway.

It had been a few months. The hardest. When the test came back positive, I had tried to find the Denali clan in Alaska, to pass on a message to the Cullens. To find help.

I got close - so close. I made it to Anchorage after almost two weeks of traveling; I didn't have a lot of money, I didn't want my fake I.D. questioned too much, and I was terrified I was being followed and kept double-backing and waiting to throw any stalkers off my trail. I was pretty sick by then, but I was certain I would make it. Hell, I'd broken into the Cullens' before I'd left and found a map in Carlisle's study that had helped me narrow down the Denali home a lot.

Then I woke up in the Anchorage ER with the news I’d collapsed on the street and miscarried.

I didn’t know what to do with that information.

I probably should have gone home to Forks and my Dad and pretended it had never happened. Or actually tracked down the Denali clan and demanded they get me in contact with the Cullens anyway. But the Benoits knew where my family was, and I just couldn’t. I didn’t want to see anyone I knew before ever again. I didn’t want to look them in the eyes and have to explain everything. I didn’t want to be Alice Brandon anymore.

So I didn’t. As soon as they released me from the hospital, I bought the first plane ticket to Hawaii. Actually, it was the next scheduled flight. They could have flown me to the moon, and I didn’t care.

That had been in January. It was now August, and it seemed surreal to me now. It felt like a movie I’d watched. Sad, but distant. It was easier to pretend it had happened to someone else, and just focus on each day. I had enough problems to deal with - I still hadn't managed to gain back any weight, probably because I was a shitty cook living on a diet of orange juice and minute-ramen; I barely made enough to cover my cost of living and had no particular way of getting a better job; and I barely slept, plagued with nightmares.

And now I was dreaming again, the truth had slammed into my head. Bella was in so much danger. Victoria was coming for her with a newborn army, and the Cullens were long gone.

I couldn't stay away and let Bella die - let that newborn army descend upon Forks without warning.

If nothing else, I had to protect Bella. And my family. Worst-case scenario, I could trade myself for the safety of others. I could try and take Victoria, though she would most likely win, especially when I was so weak and out of shape. Death sounded very peaceful.

Maybe I’d see my baby there. And Mom.

I didn’t tell anyone I was coming home. I told the café I had a ‘sick family member’, and I didn’t know if I’d be back. I gave the same story to the family I rented my place from. And then I packed up, bought the cheapest airline ticket I could get, and went home again.

When I slept on the plane, I realized the Cullens had come back to Forks. Bella was better protected than I anticipated, but they still didn’t know what was coming for them. Not to mention the danger that Simon, Dad, and Cynthia were in.

I didn’t look like much. My hair was shorter than I had ever worn it, and I was the thinnest I had ever been - that was including the years I spent in the hospital and on the street. Dark circles had set up residence underneath my eyes. I was wearing the only pair of jeans that I fitted me, and they were wearing thin. My sweater had shrunk, leaving a bare panel of skin between my waistband and the frayed hemline. And my sneakers were held together with hope and super glue.

Rather than go home and deal with Simon and Dad, I went straight to the Cullens.

It was Esme who opened the door, blinked and gasped, pulling me into a hug I couldn’t return.

“Oh, Alice, where have you been?” Esme pulled away, smoothing my hair back from my face. “We’ve all be so worried! Come in, Jasper is going to be over the moon to see you.”

I managed a quivering smile as Esme drew me into the house, into the living room where everyone was gathered, everyone’s eyes on me.

“Alice…” Jasper went from standing in the corner to at my side, pulling me into his arms, my body stiff as I reluctantly curled against him, breathing in his scent of forest and books and something indistinguishably him. “Darlin’, where have you been?”

I just shook my head. If I spoke, I’d start crying and I’d never stop. When Jasper pulled away, he must have seen that in my face and reached up to cradle my cheek. “Are you alright?” he murmured and I let out a shuddering breath.

“You’re in danger,” I managed, pulling away from Jasper reluctantly. “Victoria is returning, she’s in the area and she has her eye on Bella. And the Benoits are coming – to destroy you, the Quiluetes, and my family.”

An hour later, Esme had put a plate of food in front of me, looking worried. I was eating, my stomach twisting at the invasion of food that wasn't bought at a convenience store.

The pasta was good, but I couldn’t enjoy it.

Dad and Simon had been so grateful that I was home, there were no questions or accusations. Just more food, a shower, and bed. Simon had checked on me half a dozen times, looking so worried.

I slept badly, shallowly, my dreams twisted around the baby, the hospital. Terror and pain that I didn’t know were memories or imagined suffering. I dreamt of blood and misery, and woke up screaming twice – the first time, I wasn’t even awake when Dad came in to try and sooth me; I woke up with him half-rocking me, smoothing my hair back and trying to calm my sobs and screams.

“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart,” he murmured.

“I wish I had died,” I sobbed, half-asleep.

“Oh, honey, don’t ever say that,” Dad said.

He managed to get me back to sleep, my hair sticking to my clammy face, before I woke up screaming again, and Simon managed to get me to take something, leaving me in a soupy state that at least kept me quiet so everyone else could sleep.

I didn’t stir again til nearly dawn, my dreams blood-splattered and full of desperation. The drugs left me boneless and vulnerable, and when I finally opened my eyes, I couldn’t scream or call for help or do anything but lie there, staring at the ceiling. My hand lay on the pillow beside me, but I stared at it as if it wasn’t even mine.

I ended up dozing a little; clearly enough that my visions kicked in – I could see Carlisle, Esme, and Jasper arriving at the house, Dad and Simon looking grim. Well, Dad looked miserable and old. Simon had this professional nurse ‘this is bad’ face on.

“How is she?” Carlisle asked, after they were invited in.

“Broken,” Dad murmured, looking worn out and distressed.

“Screaming night terrors,” Simon clarified, putting his arms around my father’s shoulders. “I ended up giving her some Valium – we’d get her back to sleep, and minutes later, the screaming would start again.”

“You drugged her?” Jasper demanded, a dangerous look in his eyes.

“We didn’t have a choice. It was Valium or I called 911,” Simon said gently. “I couldn’t treat someone for trauma in my own house at midnight. Hell, I couldn’t treat someone for trauma without a doctor present. The Valium prescription was one of Alice’s when she arrived. And she needed sleep.”

“She kept telling us she wished she had died,” Dad added. “Over and over again. It’s all she would say.”

Esme and Carlisle looked shaken, but Jasper had just shut down entirely.

I managed to drag myself out of bed, and into the shower, but eschewed clothing for a clean pair of pajama bottoms and tee, running my fingers through my hair. It needed to be washed.

My chest felt tight as I sat down in front of the food Simon had made for me. Simon was still cooking, with Dad, Carlisle, Esme, and Jasper gathered around the island with me.

I felt hollow and exhausted as I considered the plate of fruit and yogurt, along with two slices of toast. I managed a small bite and felt the cool cloud of Jasper’s gift seeping into myself, not bothering to resist.

“Where have you been, Alice?” Dad asked gently.

I flinched, and then rearranged my expression again, poking some melon with my fork. “Away,” I said softly. “Somewhere safe.”

“You weren’t safe here?” Simon asked.

I brought another bite of food to my mouth to avoid answering the question; I didn’t want to say it, but they were all watching me.

“Not anymore. Not after Christmas,” I mumbled into my fruit.

Finally, I gave up. I got up and left the table, padding up to my bedroom, where my backpack was. The folded piece of paper was filthy and crumpled, but still legible, thankfully.

No one was expecting me to return to the kitchen, clearly. I slid the folded paper across to Simon and Carlisle.

Jasper would be disgusted with me. That I’d only gotten sick because he’d left me and I had been trying to find them when they didn’t want to be found. I always knew I was twisted up and ruined inside, thanks to Mommy Dearest, but this was the proof. I had had an opportunity to give Jasper the one impossible thing, and I had fucking failed.

I missed him, I needed him. He was my other half, the lost fragment. And in two short steps, I was curled in his rather startled arms, my face half-buried in his shirt.

It took Simon and Carlisle only a moment to decipher the medical shorthand, and Simon looked up at me in horror. Carlisle just looked so sad. I let out a shuddering breath, breathing in Jasper’s scent, and waited.

“Oh, kiddo,” Simon said, looking heartbroken. “Alice, why didn’t you tell us?”

“What?” Dad said, squinting at the paper.

“Alice, have you seen a doctor since?” Carlisle asked kindly. I shook my head.

“Okay, you need to be checked out, as soon as possible,” he said.

I didn’t have any energy left, and went back upstairs. It felt like cheating, to have Carlisle and Simon to tell everyone, to do my dirty work. But the idea of voicing those thoughts, those words, made my stomach twist tightly.

My bed was cool and smelt like home. It was good to be here, to be back. That was what I was telling myself.

#alice cullen #jasper hale #jalice #ficmas #ficmas23 #my fic: hybrid #my fic: hybrid baby-verse #no more drinking before ficmas posts - my newest rule #angst

16 notes · View notes