#anyways enough angst. Let hunter be happy challenge.

[funsizedcrow]

Transfem hunter real and true

#Its abt exploring gender expression after being forced to be someone ur not your entire life... #anyways enough angst. Let hunter be happy challenge. #my art #toh #the owl house #hunter toh #toh hunter #toh fanart #id in alt text

[lyomeii]

never forgetting about you

->warnings: yandere themes, manipulation, angst, maybe this can be read without being yandere at all? Spoiler from the main story ending

-> request by anon! Hi 👋 I know I requested the same thing, but I forgot to add some details. Can you do a yandere sung jin woo where the reader is from the real world but falls in love with sung jin woo even though the reader knew that he was going to fall in love with who I forgot her name is so the reader gives him a yellow tulip flower ( which I think means love from one side ) and then the reader goes back to the real world and after some years sung jin woo brings the reader back and keeps them with him (sorry English isn't my first language :) anyway have a good day ♥︎~

->a/n: have a good day too anon! I loved writing this one since i never got a request like that before :) it was kinda of a challenge, but trust me that only made me more happier when I finished this. and I changed the flower, since i do know that yellow roses means friendship.

-> maybe this was all a dream, a really realistic one, yet you don’t seem to find a way to awake from it no matter what. you are living in a apartment in south korea, that’s fine and you can handle it, you are a grown up adult inside a teenager body who knows to take care of yourself… but the huge portal in front of your ‘home’ was what caught you off the guard.

-> the design was similar and didn’t took much time to realize you are inside the world of solo leveling, as much that sound exciting and a little weird, you felt something bad coming up. Could that be since you know how the story is going to end? Probably so, but it’s a dream so why not spend your short time here to met this new place?

-> you didn’t care if it a school day or not, you dressed in comfortable clothes, got your backpack and began walking around the streets while admiring every corner. Even with you being incapable to enter the portals for oblivious reasons, seeing such new environment is enough to make you wonder if this truly a dream, not to mention the delicious desserts that you brought during you little journey til sun dawn.

-> the next day, you got scared when you realize you still inside of this new world, where your new parents discovered you ditch class to walk around. That’s don’t sound well neither the grounding you received it from them, you felt bad with how worried they look and the many tears in their eyes, making you feeling so guilty about it. Such a great way to find out you are stuck in solo leveling forever.

-> getting used to this new life and world is actually fast? studying is now easier since you were a graduate in past life, your slowly gained your parents’ again and continue to have what you consider a normal life if you don’t count the many portals and hunter you saw in daily bases, since one of your parents is an A-rank healer and the other one works for the Korean Hunters Association, in which area? You never bothered to ask.

-> they are pretty busy with their job, yet they always made time to spend with you growing up and letting you choose what path in life you wish to have. Many people were somehow disappointed when you told that you have no desire to become a hunter like your parent, much to their happiness, knowing that you are save from dangerous situations and seeing you following your dreams to reach whatever is inside your mind.

-> what they don’t know is that your dreams ( as much it sound stupid ) is to meet the many characters you adore from the story. It don’t need to be a full interaction or get to met them and friend them, just to be near them already make you feel happier. However it didn’t took much time to met some of them as you expected.

->first you met no other than the chairman of the hunter’s association, Go Gumhee, who turned out to be a closer friend of one your parents, how much you wished to learned more about your family prior of this meeting. The old man was what you expected, someone kind and somehow fun to be around, not to mention he treats you as a family member and his wife enjoy your presence.

-> and when you grown up to leave school and to get a properly job, the old man offered one at his work, but you denied and decided to enroll in the university in order to get a degree for one of the courses there. Life going normal, yet one day you manage to met another character you love, the protagonist himself, Sung Jinwoo.

-> he is already taller and more mature by appearance, meaning the incident already happen and now he is in his way to become the strongest hunter of all times, that only make you even more excited to let him and that what you do in the first opportunity.

-> with the excuse to visit one your parents at work, you manage to met with the chairman and he introduced you to the most recent S-hunter of south korea. Honestly, you don’t know how you didn’t pass out nor asked for an autograph, could that be you were to shocked to believe in your eyes?

-> that moment happen so fast and of course, you expect to never met the protagonist again nor have a great importance in his life, regardless of being thrown inside of this world, you don’t have any special skill that make you different than most people, yet something manage to bring you two together as closer friends.

-> it was weird, to befriend the main protagonist who everyone wants to be closer, but you just got enough luck to be considered someone important in his life. Jinwoo even introduced you to his sister and mother, both who adore you in their life, not to mention the many dinners you had with them.

-> stupidly you were in love with Jinwoo, well who wouldn’t fall in love with a man like him? Gorgeous, cares about his family, good personality and an amazing cook? You did and so did —-. You can’t really blame her neither the many girls who fall over his charms, however you always knew you didn’t stood a chance with the person he is going to end with, the story is already finished when you got inside this world and you fear that you might be here one day.

-> in what seemed to be another day in your life, you gave Jinwoo a yellow rose to him before he left to another dungeon. His cheek went little red, mostly due the fact that none has ever gave him a flower, his sweet smile almost melt you immediately.

-> he thanked for such gift and left after hugging you while speaking how much your existence to him meant a lot and how he wishes to never loses you. Oh. that was weird, did something bad to Jinwoo to say something like this? Maybe, but your head is spinning so much that you can’t even think about that now.

-> the moment you stepped inside your apartment, you vision where fully black and you couldn’t hear anything nor feel when your body hit the cold ground. There is something holding you back from waking up and opening your eyes, but the sound and smell did help you recognize where you are. A hospital.

-> for what you thought to be ages, you finally open your eyes to confirm your suspicions. Laying down in a hospital bed and to make things even more crazier, you are back to the real world, not inside solo leveling. Was all of that a dream? It felt so real and you live there for years, but, according to the doctors, it was probably a dream since you were only in a coma for a few days.

-> you really don’t know what to do. was that all a dream? Those moment you had with yours parents from that world were fake? Like the people you interact there such the chairman, Jinah and even Jinwoo himself are nothing but part of your mind, still you keep those memories inside your heart, regardless of being real or not, you enjoyed every second at their side.

—

-> Jinwoo panicked when hearing the news from your parents. You just vanished from your apartment, your classmates nor coworkers saw for a few days and now you are considered missing.

-> how could that happen? you gave him that flower to him and disappear from earth, he told many of his shadow to search for you in all place of the world and yet, no sign of you anywhere. Just like you never existent at all, like you were part of their imagination, but the memories he and many others have means that you are real, just missing.

-> he desperate wants to look after you to find answer to why you vanish and where you are now, but with so many things happening right now. The monarchs are going to attack soon and he have to be there to stop them, Jinwoo has no other option than searching for you after the whole situation get solved.

-> and that he does, when he uses the cup of reincarnation, jinwoo spend years fighting the many the monarchs and monster send to defeat him, only to him being the victorious one. when he did return and began a normal life, he start looking for a way to look after you with the help of his shadow and that ‘person’ that has connections with the rulers.

-> his shadows didn’t find a trace of you and your parents even married in this new timeline, they didn’t have children, leaving bothering the rulers to know why your existence ceased and being scared, they told Jinwoo the true.

-> honestly, he never saw that coming, hearing that you are from another world and that you are back to your world almost broken him down in instant. He loves you and you left him so easily, is there any way to bring you back? Any way to use his power to make you stay at his side?

-> the rulers saw no other option than answering him and of course told him a way to bring you back with a relic of them, of course Jinwoo didn’t hesitate to bring you back to this world using the said object. And in minutes, you are back to this world, almost.

-> you exist now in this world, but you are laying down in a hospital bed in a coma that doctors fears that you won’t wake up soon. for what he knows, someone find you in a terrible state in their way to work and brought you to the closest hospital, where you are now staying. without any information about your identity or family, a doctor from the hospital and their significant other, a businessperson. those two were your parents originally in this world.

-> everything is going back together, except for you and him, Jinwoo feels that even you are back in this world, he feels empty and lonely. He can spend his time at your side, but can’t hear your sweet voice nor you laughs when he tells a stupid joke.. was this a mistake? Bringing you back in such state? Were you happier in your original world? He hopes to learn more about your true self when you finally wake up.

-> but for now, the doctors and your legal guardians wonder who is responsible for leaving so many gorgeous flowers in your room daily.

@lyomeii stuff || don’t repost

#yandere headcanon #yandere imagine #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere male #yandere manhwa #manhwa x reader #yandere solo leveling #solo leveling imagine #solo leveling x reader #sung jinwoo imagine #yandere sung jin woo #sung jin woo x reader

[summer-time]

Hello! I love reading your Bad Batch headcanons, I can always pictures the boys doing what you have written!

I have an ask and it's self indulgent ~~I completely understand if you decide not to complete it~~, but I was wondering if you could do one were the reader is visiting family and they all speak a language the reader doesn't speak, so the reader is left out of a lot of conversations, and how the batch would react/respond?

Thank you in advance, regardless of wether you decided to fulfill the ask or not ❤️

Keep on writing ✒️

Hi anon, thank you so much for your kind words!

Of course you can ask, I'm always happy to challeng myself: for your request, it's not exactly what you wanted, but I hope you like it anyways!

Tags: fluff; some angst; angst/comfort; barrier language; protective!Bad Batch; reader is without description.

Hunter:

You were so enthusiastic to finally meet the rest of the squad, to personally know the remaining members of the Bad Batch, the best brothers Hunter could ask for.

You passed the previous day repeating their names, their positions, and how they looked like: you wanted them to like you, to be happy that Hunter had chosen you, even if you were a civilian.

And now you were in front of them, smile in place and nerves under control: all will go alright, it had to be. You loved Hunter too much to ask him to chose between you or his brothers.

So, you tried to be your charming self, squashing down your anxiety: Hunter had promised you that his brothers would be delighted to know his Cyare - whatever the name meant in Mando'a - and that they would be in their best behavior.

Usually, you would believe in your Sarge, your brave Hunter who you could visualize a life with: but now you were cut off from all of them, a spectator of your own life. Because you didn't speak Mando'a, even one word.

And watching the four men in front of you joking, smiling, and animatedly talking, you felt dreed rising from your stomach: because, how could you compete with them for Hunter? He was tied so obviously with them, in a way you knew he hadn't with you.

Your smile grew stiff, and your eyes began to blur with tears, but you tied to calm yourself: no panic in front of strangers. You could break into the safety of your room.

"What's wrong Cyare, I can smell you are sad." - Hunter's ushered voice startled you, fear of disappointing him raising, blinking hard to hide your tears.

"Nothing's wrong." - you smiled at him, tried to hide your fear if his brothers rejected you. Hunter hummed, not convinced in the sightless, and suddenly he kissed you. Hard and long. Like you two were alone in your apartment.

"Hunter! Let your poor cyare breathe!" - at Wrecker's teasing voice, you blushed bright red, a small happy smile blooming. Hunter loved you, and he wasn't shy to show it to his brothers. There was time to learn Mando'a.

Tech:

Today was the day. You steeled yourself, choosing to see it like you were going on another mission: go, do your work, return home satisfied for the excellent result. Nothing more, nothing less.

Except, you were going to meet Tech's squad, the famous Bad Batch. This time properly, not the hurried goodbye you gave him for his last mission in front of everyone. Maker, Andrew had teased you so much for that, that you had to threaten him to reveal his secret crush on Commander Cody if he didn't stop.

Uniform in order, you swiftly walked towards your meeting point, smiling when you saw Tech coming to you. You blushed slightly at his kiss on your cheek and steeled yourself again: this was a mission, and you won't fail.

But before you could even open your mouth to present yourself, a playful banter started between the squad - and without you: because you didn't know Mando'a, only a few words when Tech wasn't too much occupied and could teach you. And Maker, there was a motive you were in Coordination and not in Communication.

You caught words like vod - brother - and Cyar'ika - sweetheart, what Tech liked to call you - but nothing more; and you went stiff, with dreed pervading your body: you wanted to show them that you were a perfect match, but now you didn't even know.

"I would suggest we switch back to the common tongue. You all are making my Cyar'ika a little uncomfortable." - ah, your shining knight in white armor: you gave him a grateful smile, noting the bashful expression on the other's faces. And now that you had the attention, you could present yourself.

No mission was without hitches.

Wrecker:

This was a wonderful evening, one of the happiest in a long time. The small rest days for Wrecker, the dinner at your favorite restaurant, the lazy scroll on the local fair, and the beautiful necklace Wrecker had bought for you.

Yes, this was a splendid evening, so you didn't protest when your handsome man asked you if you wanted to meet his brothers, with a shy voice that hid how much he wanted you to know his family. You eagerly said yes, for you too wanted to meet the rest of the Bad Batch - particularly so you could finally comm Wrecker, and talk to him without the embarrassment of being discovered by his squad.

And the meeting was going well, when they started to speak in Mando'a and, well, you weren't super fluent, but you had some basics down. Basics that didn't help you with the fast pace between the four men, neither with the complicated words.

You tried to not fidget, anxiety running in your body: you didn't understand a thing that they were talking about but, from Wrecker's red face, they were teasing you both.

Your mind - genius it was - snickered: they couldn't get a reaction from you if you didn't even understand the words. So, your famous embarrassed ears could show themselves another time. Maybe never. Like, never. Nope.

"Alright, stop! Leave me and my Ad'ika alone." - you raised an eyebrow, a smile blooming on your face: your protective man, so strong and so kind.

"Well, Wrecker, you found someone who can't blush as much as you. Not that is hard." - Crosshair snickered in the background while Hunter rolled his eyes at him. And you caught the occasion at the fly.

"Well, it's difficult to blush at your teasing if I don't understand a thing you all are saying." - and, with the sound of shock and "Not fair!", you laughed and kissed Wrecker again.

Yes, it was a beautiful evening.

Crosshair:

The blasting beat of the bar was slowly getting your anxiety up: you were waiting for Cross and his brothers, spending the brief time together before they had to depart again. Both of you would have preferred to be alone, but your apartment was out of the question - as your roommate was sick and you didn't want to attack her fever to Cross. And the Batch's barrack was out as well because you didn't want to get caught naked from any of Cross' brothers. Like, no. Ever.

So, you had to compromise to a handful of hours together in this strange bar, address commed to you by the sniper, to at least saw each other: Cross was always coming and going into missions, and your attention was full into your work. Not many opportunities to spend some time together.

When you caught sign of their distinctive black and red armors, you slowly started your way towards them, purse tightly grasped in your hand: there were so many people in this bar, mainly clones.

Your quick greeting died on your lips as the squad was murmuring at each other in Mando'a, with only Cross' gaze as an indicator that he saw you.

You didn't know what they were talking about, you had started to learn Mando'a in your little free time, but you weren't confident in your basic, let alone be fluent like Crosshair.

"I'm going to get a drink." - you murmured to him, not giving him the time to respond. If they wanted to exclude you for all the evening, you bloody well were going home. At least there, you could safely drink all you wanted and go to bed afterward.

You didn't know how long you waited between ordering your drink and waiting for it, but it gave Crosshair enough time to found you, caging your body between his and the counter. You nearly snarled at him, poisoned words ready for the stupid idiot who dared to touch you without permission, but they died seeing Cross' stupid smirk in place.

"Where do you think you are going?" - he asked, a hint of playful banter under the wave of his possessivity.

"At home, if you continue to leave me out." - you replied while pressing your back fully into his chest. The armor complicated a little your want to touch him, but you could compromise.

"Oh, Mesh'la, keep your claws in. We were finishing our mission report, nothing you had to worry about." - he kissed the top of your head, and you relaxed: there was no time to be petty or angry, savoring the moment.

And if the Batch were discussing a brief leave and Cross had planned to stay a few days with you, well, you didn't need to know. Not yet.

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb #tbb wrecker #tbb tech #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #hunter x reader #tech x reader #wrecker x reader #crosshair x reader #the clone wars #summer sing #tbb writing

[chiliiscereal]

Here’s your GIF for the writing challenge!

Prompt: “It’s not safe to be out here by yourself.”

Good luck and thanks for participating!💛

Thanks for letting me do this challenge again @crossbowking !

Pairing: father figure Daryl x reader AGAIN cause I’m a sucker for that lol

Setting: season 2

Type: fluff and angst I guess?

Summary: when looking for Sophia, Daryl finds reader holed up in a cabin. Reader doesn’t speak, doesn’t listen, and doesn’t trust them at all. No one can figure out why but reader sticks with them anyway. One day, Daryl follows reader when they sneak out of camp, hoping to find out what could possibly have happened to make them like that

——————-

Silent world

Sophia’s tracks had begun to fade like the afternoon sunlight. They had gotten faint but Daryl didn’t want to tell Carol the truth. Eventually they disappeared and he was only left with a direction.

He found a set of footsteps the size of Sophia’s about thirty minutes later. It had to be her. Judging by how they weren’t set in one specific direction, whoever it was must be lost.

He followed the footsteps to an old cabin. She had to be in there.

You, however, hadn’t realized you were followed until the door was opened. You felt the thumping of cautious footsteps on the floorboards and immediately jumped into action. You pulled yourself from the floor quickly and hid yourself beneath the dusty bed in the corner, dragging the blankets down to obscure you from their vision. If there was one thing you’d learned in this new world it was that you couldn’t trust people. Strangers, family, doesn’t matter.

“Sophia?” Daryl called out as he peered around the corner cautiously. He glanced about the room, taking in the living conditions.

Old food wrappers...

Empty water bottles...

A few blood stains...

An old backpack that CLEARLY wasn’t Sophia’s...

Whoever had been there it wasn’t Sophia. They’d been there longer than the girl had been lost.

He tightened his grip on his crossbow. “Whoever’s in here better come out now.” He ordered.

The only response was a slight shuffling noise from under the bed. If it had been Shane or Rick they wouldn’t have heard it. But Daryl had been hunting out in the woods since he was a child, trained in hearing the sounds of hiding creatures.

Whoever they were they were alive.

“Gonna hide forever?” He growled, raising the crossbow so it pointing at the bed.

Nothing.

He was absolutely tired of this person acting like their cover hadn’t been blown.

“Get out before I drag ya out myself.” He ordered, stepping closer.

Still nothing.

Finally, he had enough of it. He reached over and pulled the blanket away from the floor. He waited... thinking they’d come out.

No movement at all.

He grabbed the bed by its headboard and shoved it away from the wall, causing a small gasp to come from underneath it.

You were no longer in darkness.

You opened your wide eyes and backed up against the wall, chest heaving with panic.

This man looked dangerous to say the least.

Mean expression.

Weapon out and pointed at her face.

Knife hanging at his belt.

Suspicious blood stains on his shirt.

“You gotta be shittin’ me.” He groaned. “I go out lookin’ fer one kid and then I find a different one?”

You didn’t respond. You just watched him with wide eyes.

“Ya seen another girl ‘round here, kid?” He asked, trying to calm down.

Still nothing. You just pulled your legs closer and tried to press closer into the wall.

“Got a family?” He interrogated with a firmer tone. “A group? Parents? Hell, even a weapon?”

You watched him carefully. Almost too carefully in Daryl’s opinion. Once he’d finished you shook your head, eyes drifting back to the crossbow in his hand.

He hadn’t even realized it was still pointing at her. He lowered it but still kept the weapon in his grip. “The hell am I ‘sposed to do now?” He asked himself out loud. “Don’t need another mouth to feed.”

You didn’t offer any suggestions. All you did was stare.

After a moment he groaned, his morals speaking louder than the selfishness of a survivor. “Damn it. C’mon. Get up.” He waved you to follow after him.

You shook your head, backing away. You didn’t know this man! He could hurt you! Do bad things! No way in hell would you willingly go with him.

He frowned. “Can’t ya talk?”

Nothing.

Just wide eyes.

“Listen, I’m ‘bout to leave yer ass alone in the woods if ya don’t give me a good enough reason why ya can’t.” His temper began to flare. “Got a group, got food, got water, an’ other kids. Seems like a pretty good deal ta me.”

You seemed to react to the word ‘kids’. You sat up a bit and seemed to watch him with interest.

“Yeah. We got another kid at our camp.” He nodded. “It’s safe.” He swore he was about to leave right then when you said nothing.

You looked down at the floor, thinking. Was this a good idea? He could easily be lying. Very easily. He seemed to know exactly what to say. That was dangerous. Very dangerous.

But other kids... safety... and water... that was something you hadn’t seen in a good long while. Might as well give it a try, right? You could always run if things went south. You were good at that.

Needless to say, Daryl was surprised when you pulled yourself off the ground and picked up your bag. You gave him a wary look but followed him anyway.

“So, ya ever talk?” He asked as the two of you walked through the woods.

You didn’t answer. You just surveyed the woods carefully. He could have men out there waiting to jump you and do bad things. Or there could be walkers. You didn’t know.

Your racing thoughts were interrupted by a tap on your shoulder, flinching you out of your state of mind.

“Gonna answer me or what?” Daryl asked, getting more and more frustrated.

You just frowned at him, unsure of what he was saying. He was talking too fast for you to follow along with it.

“I asked if ya ever talk.” He shouldered his crossbow, no hope whatsoever in you answering.

All he got in return was a shrug.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He sighed. Whatever. At least he’d be able to walk to the farm in silence.

—————-

When they arrived everyone was confused on who you were or where you came from.

The people living in the farm house asked you many questions and you could only catch a few words here and there.

Where

Who

Name

Girl

Sophia

Seen

Group

Woods

You just stared at the floor, unsure of how to respond.

“Is there something wrong with her?” Maggie asked quietly. “She’s not answering anything.”

“Been like that since I found ‘er.” Daryl shrugged. “Ain’t sure ‘a her name, family, or if she even got anybody.”

“Where’d you find her?” Lori frowned. “Surely she has parents somewhere out there.”

Daryl wanted nothing more to leave and return to his tent. But he answered anyway. “Was in a cabin. By the looks ‘a it it’s just her.”

“Sweetie, can you tell us your name?” Lori bent down so she could see your face. “Or where your parents are?”

Your eyes didn’t leave the floor.

Lori sighed. “It’s almost as if she can’t hear me.”

“Or don’t want to.” Shane snorted, leaning against the wall. “Kid doesn’t seem too happy to be here. Probably just thinks ignorin’ us is gonna make us mad or some shit.”

“Damn right it’s makin’ me mad.” The hunter watched the kid in front of him. “Can’t tell if it’s on purpose.”

“I’ve heard ‘bout kids shutting down an’ not speak in’ when they’ve been through somethin’ traumatic.” Hershel informed the group. “It could be like what happened to Beth earlier, an’ it’ll just take some time for her to come around.”

That was the answer everyone seemed to settle on.

They gave you time as well as plenty of opportunities to talk to them. They tried asking questions or telling you things but you didn’t respond no matter how hard anyone tried.

Daryl began to suspect what the real case could be when you didn’t even respond when Shane yelled at you.

He’d been trying to hurry up the process by forcing you to talk. When he got no response he finally snapped.

You’d been reading a book Maggie let you borrow, unaware that anyone had been talking. But you caught on quickly when the book had been slapped from your hands.

You gasped and stumbled away, face to face with an angry Shane.

You weren’t close to anyone in the group so you ran to the person who had brought you there, hiding behind Daryl.

Daryl had been surprised. He didn’t think you liked anybody there at all. After all, you never talked to anybody. Never answered any questions. Being there for five days hadn’t changed anything.

“The hell’s yer problem man.” Daryl growled. “Ya always go ‘round tryin’ to scare kids or what?”

“It’s not my damn fault she won’t talk.” Shane yelled. “She’s gonna learn some respect if she wants to stay here.”

“Yellin’ at her won’t get ya any damn respect.” Daryl bit back. “Hershel said it’d take time, didn’t he?” He glanced down at you as you hid your face from the fight.

“It’s takin’ too much in my opinion.” Shane rolled his eyes and turned to walk away.

From that day on you steered clear of Shane and stayed by Daryl’s side. He wasn’t too sure why you’d chosen him out of everyone else and neither were you. But it seemed to be the right choice. The man never forced you to talk. He never yelled at you when you didn’t react.

It seemed like he simply enjoyed peace and quiet.

You helped around the farm house by washing dishes and feeding chickens. You helped Maggie and Lori make dinner and always helped them clean up after.

You picked flowers for Lori.

You showed Carl how to climb a tree.

You played cards with Glenn.

If Daryl didn’t know better he’d say that you were enjoying your stay at the farm.

But you still weren’t talking.

You interacted with everyone, yeah, but you still never spoke.

Not even when the farm fell.

—————

You and everyone had spent almost a month out in the woods once the farm was gone. You bounced from house to house and never stayed in one spot longer than needed.

One house you stayed at, you found a pair of small batteries. Even wire and tweezers. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give you hope.

So that night you snuck out to the back yard once you were sure everyone was asleep.

But everyone wasn’t.

Daryl wasn’t.

He’d noticed the moment you disappeared.

He’d gotten up and walked outside, crossbow in hand. Maybe you’d ran away. Or got taken. Maybe you went outside and gotten lost.

But he found you leaning against a tree instead.

“It’s not safe to be out here by yourself.” Daryl stated, even though he knew you wouldn’t respond.

You did however react to feeling his footsteps vibrating the ground. Quickly, you stuffed whatever had been in your hands into your pockets and looked at him with wide eyes.

“Damn, kid, I ain’t gonna bite.” He held up his hands in surrender. “The hell ya doin out here?”

As always, you didn’t say anything. You looked back at the forest floor almost guiltily.

“Somethin’ wrong?” He frowned.

You knew you should tell him. He’d proven himself trustworthy after all. You just... you were scared you were wrong. That he’d be just like every other adult I. Your life.

“What’d ya have in yer hand before?” He tried, gesturing to whatever you’d stuffed in your pocket.

You tore your gaze away from him and reached down to pull out an object wrapped in cloth.

Daryl sat down beside you. “Can I see it?”

You held it a bit closer, brain still thinking in circles.

“I ain’t gonna break it or nothin’ if that’s what yer worried about.” He rolled his eyes.

Finally your mind was made. You set it down in his hands and waiting for his reaction.

Carefully, aware that you were watching his every movement, he unwrapped whatever it was.

He didn’t know what it was at first. It was almost as long as his smallest finger and was colored silver and tan. He realized what it was when he finally turned it over.

“Hearin’ aids?” He asked, turning to you.

You took a deep breath and nodded. “D-deaf.” You spoke, nerves at how he’d react making you stutter.

He jerked back a bit in surprise. “Ya been deaf this entire time?”

Another nervous nod.

“Damn, that’s impressive.” He gave you a sort of half grin. “How’d no one catch on? An’ why didn’t ya tell nobody?”

You reached into your pocket and pulled out a notebook, scribbling on a couple sentences. You showed him once you were done.

‘Lip reading. And I didn’t trust you.’

“But why didn’t ya talk like ya did now?” He frowned. “I wouldn’t ‘a known the difference.”

You wrote down more, hesitantly.

‘I’ve been told I sound stupid when I talk. So I don’t.’

You fiddled with your shoelace as he read.

“Who the hell told ya that?” He practically growled. “And why don’t ya know any ‘a that sign language?”

You took the notebook back and wrote down a few more sentences.

“And why don’t ya use the hearin’ aids?” He added.

You turned the book back to face him, only one word written.

‘Dad’

You felt ashamed to be admitting this. This wasn’t anything he needed to know. He would probably react the same way your dad reacted when he was given the opportunity.

“Hell no yer gonna explain more than that.” Daryl pushed the book back into your arms. “Can’t just half ass an answer.”

You sighed and began again.

‘He thought being deaf was a weakness. No sign language, no hearing aids, and no talking the moment my mom turned. He broke them when I broke the rules.’

You swallowed the emotions rising back up in the back of your throat.

He was a horrible man.

It was sickening, but you were almost glad that he was gone.

Daryl’s expression darkened when he read those words. “Sounds like an ass to me.” He handed the notebook back to you again. “So you tryin’ ya fix ‘em?”

You nodded and pulled out the batteries and wire, shrugging.

Daryl sighed. “Sorry, but that won’t be enough to fix these.” He examined the hearing aids once more. The wires were pulled apart and some of the plastic had snapped.

“... I know.” You managed to speak again, summoning your bravery. “Just wanted to try.”

Daryl’s expression didn’t change when you spoke. Maybe your dad was wrong. Maybe you didn’t sound as stupid as he told you you did.

Daryl handed the hearing aids back to you gently. “M’sorry kid.”

You shrugged again, placing them back in your pocket carefully.

Suddenly, Daryl had an idea. I’d require a run for sure but it’d be worth it. For now, he’d keep quiet about it. He didn’t even know if it’d work. But he might as well try.

——-

For the next few weeks on the road Daryl was on every run. You were curious about why but you dismissed it as him trying to make sure everyone would survive the coming winter.

By now, everyone knew you were deaf. They all reacted as Daryl had and treated you the same as they always did.

It was relieving to be honest. And a bit of a surprise. But the bigger surprise came later when Daryl told you he wanted to show everyone something in the woods.

You’d followed along, assuming he’d found more supplies.

Instead of revealing more supplies, he knelt down so he was at your level.

“I know it’s been hard without yer hearin’...” he started, reaching into his back pocket, “an’ I hope ya don’t mind I did this without askin’...” he pulled out an object wrapped in a familiar cloth.

You realized what was happening the moment you saw it.

“I gave it my best shot.” He pulled away the fabric and revealed the newly repaired hearing aids. “Found a book an’ some supplies on the last run.”

You hadn’t even realized tears were running down your face until they dropped onto your shirt.

Daryl reaches over and placed the hearing aids in your hands. “Give ‘em a try?”

You glanced at the faces of your new group. They must have known. Not a single one of them looked surprised. Just expectant and...happy. Happy for you.

Slowly, you tucked your hair out of your way. You set the small machine in place. You placed your hand over the on button tentatively.

The Hunter you’d grown attached to gave you a nod.

Finally, you pressed the button.

You waited and held your breath.

It was as if everything came crashing in at once.

The wind that rushed through the trees was giving out hollow rattling noises.

The birds above were chirping shrilly, each whistle harmoniously fitting together like a puzzle.

And you... you could hear yourself gasping in surprise as you spun in circles. You could hear the leaves crunching beneath your feet. Did that always happen?

“I’ll take it that it works?” Your thought were interrupted by a raspy southern accent.

You spun around, facing Daryl once more.

He stood back up, tip of his mouth tipped up in a half smile.

You couldn’t speak.

You couldn’t even thank him with your words.

So you thanked him the only way you knew how: with actions.

You wasted no time in running in his direction, more tearing spilling down your face as you wrapped your arms around the surprised man.

He returned the gesture after a moment of hesitation. “Wasn’t no problem.”

You buried you face in his shoulder, overcome with emotion. “Thank you thank you thank you thank you!”

He rubbed your back comfortingly. “Was nothin’.”

You shook you head and hugged him harder. “No, it was everything.”

#crossbowkingwritingchallenge #for you #bookish #wattpad #fanfic #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #twd incorrect quotes #the walking dead #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x reader

[herstarburststories]

Calamitous Love

Paring: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: Dean shows up at your house, but this is a calamitous love. Sooner or later, it's going to destroy.

A/N: I was based and inspired by so many things to get this ready, I can't even start pointing them here. This started as something and escalated to something else, and I'm immensely in love with how it is now. I'm posting a version of this through Dean's POV soon. The prompt is bolded and its for @tvdspngirl314's bday challenge! Hope you like it, honey! And happy bday.

Warnings: language, mentions of sex, fluff, angst, dean is a perv in a cute way, s1 dean Ily

Dean Winchester could easily remember how mad you were that night, after he purposely came to your party uninvited and stood on the porch talking to all your stupid friends. How the one you called the best out of them had wide eyes when she caught him there, and all the reaction she could get was him winking at her.

The man - who was more like a boy, really - with green eyes that matched your garden knew she would run and rush and breathlessly tell you that he was there.

Of course she did. Inez was never one for keeping secrets. He used to wonder if it was a matter of time for the blonde to spread yours.

Her loose lips were useful that night, though. He couldn't even finish his chatter about Chevrolet versus Toyota cars with that James guy before you bursted out of the door ferociously. Dean turned around and waited for many things; well-deserved slapping, indignated tears, a sharp scream strident enough to suppress the loud song which vibrated through everyone's skin like veins.

You surprised him once again.

You closed your eyelashes and took a deep breath, as if to control the burning fire behind your thoughts. The Winchester had seen her in arguments before, the whole ‘my mouth is a loaded gun without a trigger’ thing held an entirely new meaning. He knew you wanted to come at him, and Dean wouldn’t put any guilty on you for that. As you walked towards him, his brittle heart raced like one of those chick flick moments he always mocked about - yet, he couldn't help but stare. Your legs looked so good in that light, pretty ass that Dean loved to grab wrapped in a tight red skirt. You had a white tank with cleavage on and your hair was, as usual, free on its widest way. The hunter adored how your brown sea could never seem not to be a mess, and how you made chaos marvelous like a natural. He surely needed that in his life.

Isn’t it all you had been since the very beginning, honestly? Isn’t it what love utterly is when the lights are dim and the weather changes? Cutting right to the bone like a surgeon, you were that one thing, that one hand that would touch Dean’s weary head and make it rest, those unique lips who could whisper tales of hope in the backseat of his car and he could actually believe it. The one, you know, that one person who didn’t make the eldest Winchester feel like he cared more than he was cared for. He often experienced that math problem, dad never seemed to be satisfied enough to be proud of him, and Sam was always talking about how he wanted to leave someday.

‘’Dean.’’ You said and your tone was harsh, a single eyebrow arched with a quiet defying question. The green eyed man wouldn't be shocked if you had called him out before when he was too busy paying attention to you to notice. ‘’Let's go to the garden.’’

And then you grabbed his wrist, sneaking in through the rusting garden gates in the back of your house. Such mere touch put his skin on flames. So many others, mostly monsters or people who were really monsters at heart, already chained his hands and he always broke the cuffs. This time, in your hands, Dean almost wished he could stay put, grounded to something else other than bloody walls and oily guns. He missed you so much. The way your fingers felt on his cheeks, how you'd allow him to kiss every inch of your body, and how you seemed to understand.

Anyway, it wasn't time for him to turn sentimental just yet. Leave it to Sam. 

Dean’s boots were cruel against the grass, walking side by side with your high heels ones. Above all the partying noise, they both were quiet for once, as if they were going into a clandestine meeting.

He hated it.

‘’What the fuck are you doing here?’’ you turned around in a swift move before crossing your arms. It took a lot of self control not to glare at your breast, which is why Dean didn’t. He pictured it wasn’t that bed since he was only glancing for a few seconds and the malicious smirk on his face faded into him licking his bottom lip through the memories of fucking, grabbing and playing with them. You rolled your eyes, impressed by my immature behavior. ‘’Winchester, I asked what you are doing here.’’

Always so dominant in every situation but in bed. He sighed to himself, man, I can’t lose her.

‘’Listen, Y/N/N, I’m sorry.’’

‘’You are sorry? You can take your apologies and put them in your sorry ass till’ they come out of your mouth, Dean.’’ And, of course, stubborn. Dean Winchester wouldn't be so attracted to you in any other way. Frisky women always had the best him.

He groaned, ‘’Y/N, come on, it wasn't like that--’’

You interrupted his reasoning with a laugh empty of joy: ‘’You left me. You just walked away. No calls, no texts, just left. You promised you wouldn't. You said I could trust you.’’

‘’And you can!’’

He wasn’t able to blame you for that. Still, it broke him to hear every casual syllable in raw honesty. Dean would kill for you, and you didn’t even trust him because he ran away without any note, or previous warning, or anything. If only he could do the trick of just opening his mouth and allowing his emotions to come arrive, like Sam did all the time. All he tried to be, his little brother was simply born that way. He could never be like Sammy and you deserved a guy like him. Yet, the bruised man - more like a scared boy, really - remained in front of you. Because, for once, Dean wanted to act selfish and get it what he craved for. Just this once.

‘’To leave? Sure.’’ Nonetheless, you never learned how to read his mind, so you just aim a wry smile at him. ‘’Sorry, pal. I already have my mom to do that.’’

In that moment, every word you said was a stone designed to shatter him, and it was working fatefully. Sometimes, the green eyed hunter wished he was the one being left instead of leaving people behind. But how could you know that? It's the job side effect.

Taking a deep breath, your name is leaving his lips calmly. The most calm he had ever been since my three childhood years. ‘’Y/N…’’

‘’No, Dean.’’ You spoke. Because his forest eyes matched a lot with the grass in your garden under that dim light, almost like he was made to be there and you didn’t think you could do it again; lose him. It was too much.

‘’Dang, woman. I'm trying to explain!’’

‘’No, you are trying to come up with a stupid lie to cover up whatever you were doing for two weeks! I'm not stupid and I know you.’’ You accused, exasperatedly slapping your own tights. You were right, he had showed up to your party with a dumb excuse on his tongue, ready to tell you anything but the truth. Fuck, how the short haired hunter wanted you to have the imaginary money to buy one of his cheap lies. ‘’Tell me the truth. Don't come up with my dad needed help with a car and all that. What happened to you, Dean?’’

‘’I can't tell you.’’ He shrugged in frustration. 

I want to tell you everything, even the details in the corner, the monster in the forest.

You smile sarcastically, ‘’I don't see a fold on your lips.’’

But I can’t.

Dean huffed, pursing his lips. ‘’You would hate me.’’

You would think I’m a crazy liar.

‘’I already do.’’

You can be so violent when hurt. You both have bullets in different body parts, and there you are trying to shoot him. Modern Romeo and Juliet, a hunter romance; they try to kill each other instead of the evil thing.

‘’Y/N, you are gonna think I'm crazy.’’ He wiped his face, exasperated for you to change the subject.

Your lips were shut, the light reflected on you. Dean was glaring at you in a quiet desire for you to stay, to make him stay. But you stand still, looking away with delicate woe contorting your features.

It was clear after a hunt when the hunter should leave the town. And it was clear now that he killed any hope for them that Dean shall do what he usually does after a case. Nodding with a sigh, started to walk away.

But you stopped him.

‘’What are you doing?’’ You, in fact, sounded confused. Dean’s eyebrows knitted together, unsure if you two were having the conversation he thought you were not even one minute ago.

The answer resonated more like a question than anything: ‘’Leaving?’’

Your next words were the equivalent to the three ones he had never dared to say. ‘’I don't want you to leave.’’

Yes, the Winchester’s heart was pouring as fast as it was when he went on his first hunt. Yes, he could hear an old rock song playing when you have that look on your face. Yes, he knew he was acting like Sammy and all his cheesy discourses right now.

Who cares?

Apart from all that, Dean offered you a cocky smile. ‘’What do you want, sweetheart?’’

‘’Kiss me.’’

And he did. You trusted him in the garden and he got you back. Dean kissed you in the porch in front of all your stupid friends, too. And then he kissed you again in my car under the streetlight and in so many other uncountable places.

He was the person who got left a few years after that. As if his sorrow had become the prey for some cosmic joke. Sammy left for Stanford and it made his dad, well, more dad than usual. The weird thing was, inside of the grief of being left, Dean understood what he did to you. He had a lot of blood in his hands, enough to turn an ocean red if he ever tried to clean them, but I knew that leaving you was the worst thing that I had ever done.

Well, at least that was what two bottles of Whiskey helped him to get to.

Dean guessed he got what you felt on your porch that night as well. When he walked in, you knew you'd forgive him but you needed to sting back. As Sam left, his older brother already knew he'd forgive him, too. Dean fought about it, and I felt betrayed- wounded animals still attack. But he had forgave him the moment he missed him.

You forgave Dean too, and nowadays he resented for that with an insufferable regret. Because then he told you the truth about the world and showed you his scars. He kissed you, and your lips found every ugly in him. Still, they kept asking him for more. Your lips were the bed for my monster to sleep under.

Real monsters found them.

A few years later, the trio was in a town. You had a vacation from college - you dated a hunter with 5 bucks to his name, and you were studying journalism in a conceited university. It made no sense to Dean sometimes. All you asked for was to spend your free time with him and a call each night to make sure he was alive, which he gave you happily. Besides finding a way to go near your city at least once a month, more for himself than anything else. How did he get so lucky?

You liked certain aspects of the hunter life, surprisingly. The driving away, the creatures, even the restaurants. ‘’Come on, you guys hunt monsters. How cool is that? Also just driving, eating in a new place everyday. Did I mention monsters are real? You guys are like heroes!’’

He shook his head at your optimism, stroking your naked form gently that night.‘’We aren't here, Y/N. This life, it ends early and bloody. There is no place for white fancies and normal.’’

‘’Who said that I want that?’’ You mocked right before pressing your lips to the hickey on his neck, gaining a content groan from Dean. ‘’You monsters. As far as I'm concerned, you are a hero. My hero.’’ You add a subtle joke. ‘’Like a fairytale.’’

He scoffed and pulled you closer. ‘’More like a horror movie.’’ 

‘’Haven’t you read fairytales?’’ 

‘’No, but I did see the porn version.’’ Done with talking, he got on top of you, wearing that lopsided grin that started it all over again.

Years back, he asked you what you wanted. And you said, kiss me.

You kept saying that for a decade. Growing that calamitous love, feeding it with stolen glances and touches. If you knew what’s next, would you do it again?

Now you are laying on the ground as he got on my knees and pulled you closer. You are almost dead, a half lifeless body, but you hold on so tight to life, gasping for it. His stubborn girl who he loved so.

Your voice, usually so determined, is barely a whimper. ‘’Everyone wants a fairytale love.’’

‘’What? Don’t get sentimental on me, Y/N. You aren’t gonna die.’’ Dean says exasperated. It isn’t blind faith, unrealistic optimism or anything like this. It’s denial, one of the stages of grief he’s familiar with. It lives with him, as loyal as a dog, as present as a long lost mother’s love; he ignores the acceptance and hope, jumping right into anger, guilt, denial, and bargains with the devil. As if death is a champagne problem he can just drink and be done with because hey, if you can’t lose something, then you won’t right? Right? And if you do lose it, then you’ll just die too. Someone loses oxygen, they die. Someone loses too much blood, they die.

He will die if he loses you, he will. Dean is devastatingly sure of that. He can feel it in his bones. If you die, he dies. His body, his cicatrized soul was made out of in woe. That man - scared little boy like he was when Mary died, really -, He knows sadness like an old lover who always visits, and death is an old friend who always shakes his hands and appears without an invite. Dean Winchester knows pain, alright? Ask any person, he’s the Rome for men, built in ruins despise the beauty of good.

But this? No. He can’t survive. It isn’t possible that someone can hold so much suffering and agony. Skin and bone can only take so many hematomas. 

‘’Dean, shut up.’’ You place your hand on his cheek and Dean can’t help but lean in. His green eyes are glistening, the memory of the garden reminiscing in the back of your mind. ‘’I’ve wanted a fairytale love since I was a kid and my dad used to read the books my mom left on the shelf for me. So, in my defense, I never actually read them.’’

‘’Is this what a fairytale looks to you?’’ The eldest Winchester asks, not missing how your touch is colder against him. Where’s Sam with the car? Where’s a miracle? Where’s the justice and fair things and anything good? Dying in his arms, sinking her fingernails into his skin.

‘’The original ones, yes. They are just like that.’’ You chortle, but what’s meant to sound like happiness develops into a cough. All the energy and strength you have are used to push the words. You need Dean to know. ‘’I don't regret anything. You loved me, and I loved you. This is good. I don’t want your silly little mind to think any other way. You aren’t the villain in my story, Dean. You are the…’’ You’re interrupted by your own body giving up on you at an alarming rate, more bloodstained coughing.

‘’Don’t speak, honey. You’ll be alright, okay? No goodbye, we don’t do goodbye. You’ll be alright. Just keep yourself awake, ok?’’ Dean doesn’t know what to do other than hold you. What does one do with all the throbbing aches? He can’t say he will see you in heaven if you die. Staying with you for ten years was heaven already and this is the price he pays. That’s like when the ocean drains in a flash right in front of your eyes and someone tells you to swim in the sky instead. He can’t jump high enough to get it, he isn’t tall enough to get it. But God, Dean can’t just give up, he can’t just let you go. You are bleeding out and he’s dying with you. ‘’Please.’’ The Winchester pleas. ‘’Don’t leave me. Please.’’

If this is how you die and you can only pick up some words to say, you need to spell love. You need Dean Winchester to know he was loved with your last breath, there’s no better use to life other than love. Therefore, it’s easy to know what to voice when you look into his eyes one last time. ‘’I love you.’’

Through the agony, Dean gives you the sort of smile... You know, the sort of smile that can only be described by I put my home on fire, so I could eat all the flames and all the bright blaze is in my teeth now. Because something is burning and you are becoming ashes, but you love this. You love that boy and he loves you. You’d do it all again. He rests his forehead against yours and you can feel his tears on your face, his hands holding you for dear life.

‘’I love you too.’’

It’s a good thing to hear as you close your eyes.

Comment & reblog. Feedback is magic! Check my masterlist ♡ Tags in reblog!

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #allyswritingevent #dean x reader #dean x you #supernatural #spn #dean winchester imagine #supernatural imagines #spn reader insert #dean winchester headcanon #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester x you #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles imagine #jensen ackles imagines #dean is straight

[undobutton]

warnings: blood and death mention, slight angst, Swearing

genre: rivals to lovers

Characters: Joseph

a/n: I'm so sorry anon!! i completely forgot that you meant rivals and not enemies bc i thought they were the same thing, so so sorry here you go!

JOSEPH DESAULNIERS (photographer)📸

so since you two are rivals you must be a hunter right? unless you met before the manor. in that case I'll show both povs.

Rival Hunters

the second you stepped foot in the manor he had a bad vibe.

but he's a gentleman and doesn't let that get the best of him.

he introduces himself quickly and leaves after he gets your name.

soon aftet that he gets a letter from Miss Nightingale saying thay he should teach you the ins and outs of being a hunter.

he's honored since its usually Leo who gets this job.

he takes it very seriously and arrives ten minutes early to the training grounds.

and you are ten minutes late.

thats strike one.

he expresses his disappointment, but carries on anyways.

strike two is when you don't put in as much effort as he'd like.

and finally strike three is when you insult his camera.

he scoffs and barks back.

by the end of it you've learned a little bit but not enough, Miss Nightingale asks Leo to instruct you instead.

and to Joseph's surprise you actually cooperate with him????

he's so pissed.

after that you get the hang of it and become a very good hunter.

rumors spread around and You've become the talk of the town.

and Joseph isn't happy about it.

he normally is not the type to get jealous much less petty.

well he is, but he just doesn't show it often.

you are a special case though.

but he decides to keep his pettiness to a minimum.

that is until you two are paired for a 2v8.

usually he works with the other hunter, but this time he tries to get more survivors chaired then you.

it quickly becomes a competition.

everytime you two are paired for 2v8 you challenge eachother.

people begin to place bets, and you're in the lead!

Joseph quickly catches up and the two if you are at a tie.

then you get hurt in a match.

there's blood everywhere and they have to end it early to help you.

it's very similar to how things happened in my previous post.

he makes you his top priority and never leaves your side!

once you wake up he spills out his feelings for you without hesitation.

hugs and cuddles!

you're relationship dynamic is playful! you bring out his more reckless and competitive side.

12000/10! the two of you make an adorable couple!!💖

RIVALS IN THE PAST (you're a survivor)

the moment he saw you in a match he made a point to catch you first.

and since you're kind of new to the game he does get you easily.

then he leaves you there, the man just walks away.

you get rescued ofc but since you're new he catches you again and again.

and you're sent back.

and then he has the audacity to win the fucking match.

you're not happy ofc and train really hard!

it pays off because in the next match he end up barley catching you.

it was a close call and only lucky managed to escape via the dungeon.

but you don't give up and keep practicing until he doesn't catch you!

and you get a draw.

draws quickly become wins.

and wins become best deductions.

he isn't happy.

he starts to go extra hard in you until its very obvious that you're the only survivor he actually cares to chair.

he starts to get teased because of it.

the other hunters start to say he has a crush on you.

word spreads to the survivors then to you.

this is surprising to you and you decide to try and ask him about it in a match.

while you're kiting which is something you've gotten rather good at, you start to yell to him.

asking if the rumors are true or not.

he doesn't respond and gets flustered an mad instead.

once he catches up to you, you're mid-vault and he gives you a good terror shock.

you fall to the ground, but you're not holding your head, or trying to crawl around.

he's a bit concerned but finds a pulse on you and chairs you anyway.

once you're back at the manor, still asleep you're sent to Emily right away!

when he returns and hears the news.

he's at your bedside as soon as possible and apologizes.

even though you can't hear him.

he tells you sorry every day and writes you letters he'll never send telling you how horrible he feels. and that he loves you so very much.

even in the past he loved you, he only started this stupid competition as an exuse to be close to you.

now you're hurt and its all his fault.

much like stated above, when you wake he hugs you and confesses.

12000/10! he absolutely cherishes you like no other💞

hope you liked my hcs and that this makes up for my mistake!!

-button🌺

reblogs are appreciated✨

#idv #idv x reader #idv joseph x reader #idv joseph #idv photographer x reader #idv photographer #identity v #identity v x reader #identity v joseph x reader #identity v joseph #identity v photographer x reader #identity v photographer

[minniepetals]

Rose & Thorns: 01

— summary: a lone rose, a little broken, until Jungkook came along and the two of you saved each other. and in doing so, Jungkook showed you a world where he shared with his six other mates.

— pairing: dragon!jungkook x reader / future!bts x reader

— genre: angst, slight fluff / poly!au / fantasy!au / dragon!au

— word count: 3.4k

— warnings: orphan reader, bits of insecurities kicked in here and there

╰ part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10

"Hi there."

In the dark and deep dungeon where Jungkook laid, his head perked up at the sound of a lady's voice and his brows furrowed. A girl? What was a girl doing in a part of the village where the villagers have deemed to be the most dangerous zone? Surely guards must have surrounded the area with tough security, right? So how did you manage to go past it?

"I'm Y/N," he heard the voice again and a soft scoff left him.

You were probably just there curious to see the dragon those infamous soldiers have managed to catch.

"I am..." you trailed off and he found himself waiting for what you had to say, "I am the keeper of the dragon."

Keeper.

He never imagined a girl to be a keeper.

"Damn, that sounds weird," he heard you mumble to yourself, a light chuckle leaving your lips. "But anyways," you went on, "it'll be just you and me for a while because no one else wanted to take up the role of the keeper except I. Which is fine, I've always wanted to take up a task as big as this. Oh, and you must be hungry so I brought you food. Trust me though, no one has poisoned it so don't be shy and starve yourself, alright?"

Shy, Jungkook scoffed to himself. What would a dragon ever be shy about? He could rip you to pieces if he wanted.

Too bad the chains around him kept him from escaping and doing anything rash.

He sighed, ignoring your ongoing ramblings and thought back on how in the world he managed to get caught in the first place.

His hyungs have always warned him about going hunting around the areas where humans settled but there was more prey there so he decided to take up the challenge. He should have told someone yet his rebellious side allowed him to go off on his own without a word to his own clan.

That was how the humans got to him, dragon hunters, they'd call themselves.

Stabbed on his arm as he was flying about the sky and near the ground. That didn't entirely weaken him but because of the fact that he was caught off guard and they held spears and ropes, Jungkook struggled to get away so, in the end, he woke up after being unconscious, locked up in some sort of dungeon with his neck chained up that extended to the wall to keep him from escaping.

The chain around his neck was hurting him far more than he expected but what could he do?

Maybe his clan would come looking for him. But with the fact that he had told no one where he was heading off to, Jungkook doubted they'd be able to track him down that easily.

"Are you alright?" You asked him the next day but he gave you no words. Still, despite his silence, you went on and on about all sorts of stories probably out of boredom.

He didn't know what you were doing, why you decided to take up the role of a keeper when everyone else in your village was in fear of him. Were you brave or just a fool? He had no idea what to conclude.

But for some reason, as the days passed and he was forced to listen to all of your endless stories, Jungkook was glad for your presence. Maybe it was the fact that he would have gone crazy if he wasn't around anyone for a while. Maybe because you actually sounded like someone who wasn't scared of him, someone who was a little different from those villagers, and someone who was treating him as a normal being.

Whatever it was, he was glad for your presence that replaced the warmth of his hyung's arms.

"You ate!" You rejoiced the second you came back early one morning.

It was funny how excited and happy you were about the fact that he actually ate something. He didn't know what you looked like because he never cared to head into the light, where you were, but your voice alone was sweet, something that told him you were a pure sweet being who enjoyed the little things in life.

You reminded him of Hoseok and Taehyung in that sense, and the feeling of nostalgia came rushing over him.

He missed home.

"Do you have a family?" You asked suddenly, sitting down at the exact same spot you would always sit at. "I had a family but they've gone and now my families are the villagers. But lately, they think I've gone crazy because I still haven't run away from this place and still visit it each and every day. But I'm not crazy, trust me!" He wanted to laugh at how defensive you were despite his silence. You were cute. "It's just that whatever job I am given, I never give up even if it gives me a hard time — not that this job is giving me a hard time, I actually enjoy this believe it or not."

Why is that? Jungkook wanted to ask.

And as if reading his mind, you answered "It's lonely back in the village. You don't talk much but that's alright, it's better to have a silent presence than abandonment and someone who rambles about how stupid and crazy I am."

Had something happened? Your voice was growing somber.

"I'm so sorry." It came out into a breathless whisper, as if you were recalling a lost memory, as if you were on the verge of crying. "I'm so sorry they've kept you locked up in here," you said. "Trust me, if I was the chief villager and had the power to have others nodding at my commands, I'd tell them to set you free."

What?

"I've already done it once but was cast away and told to just continue doing my job. They're so cruel," you mumbled through a pout. "You must have a family that misses you but I can't even do anything to help you except ramble on and on about useless things which aren't helpful at all. I'm so sorry."

Why were you apologizing when none of it had been your fault? Why were you blaming yourself for the villager's actions?

"Would you rather I kept silent instead of rambling? I'm so sorry, you must be annoyed with me, right? I can-"

"Don't."

You froze, head quick to shoot up upon hearing his voice for the first time. Jungkook was surprised too. He never thought he'd ever say a word, but the deeds were done so he convinced himself whatever, he had already spoken so he might as well do some more.

"Don't stop talking," he said again, "I like your voice...Y/N."

A small smile spreads across your face, creating a beaming glow and with just hearing his voice and pretty words, and a drop of tear fell from your eyes.

"R-really?" You asked, standing up from where you sat as you held the silver bars in front of you, trying to look for him. But it was too dark to see.

A long silence passed and then, light footsteps. Footsteps of a human walking and you held your breath.

Bit by bit, little by little, you watched with a piercing gaze, waiting until he finally walked into the light. Your breath hitched at the sight of a man around your age, shirtless with scars all over him from the events of when he had gotten caught and old scars from elsewhere.

He was handsome. So incredibly handsome. With a sharp gaze and jawlines that could cut straight through the silver bars.

When Jungkook saw you, he had to blink for a moment. He wasn't too surprised by your beauty. Your voice was incredibly sweet and pretty, matching your beautiful face. But he frowned at the trail of tears that had left your eyes and his heart ached.

"Why are you crying?" He asked you by the time he got closer and stood just in front of you with the bars being the only thing that kept you apart.

Jungkook wanted to reach out but he held back, knowing that that would have been incredibly rude towards a lady.

"I'm not crying," you quickly lied and went on to wipe away the tears that had been waiting to fall away.

"You're a horrible liar."

You cringed. "Am I?" Jungkook hummed, nodding. "It's just...it's the first time someone has told me they liked my voice."

He frowned. "No one else likes your voice?"

"It kind of gets annoying," you said, a small bitter smile appearing.

His heart ached at the once bubbly voice now gone due to the insecurities those villagers have drilled into you.

"Speak as much as you'd like," he told you. "Your voice calms me down, lets me know that I'm not alone."

"Well you're not alone," you declared, suddenly acting all heroic. He smiled at the energy. "As long as I'm here, you'll never be lonely. But let's hope it isn't for long because I want you to have your freedom soon."

He knew that he'd definitely miss you if he ever got that freedom again.

"Does it hurt?" You asked him the next day and Jungkook looked up from smacking on a mango. You gestured at his neck, where the chain stood and Jungkook gave you an awkward lopsided smile.

"Yeah," he admitted. "It weighs a lot, it's a burden but I'm a tough dragon so I'll be alright."

"Oh please," you scoffed, pouting a little, "even the biggest and strongest dragons get hurt."

That next day, you came back with some ointment and treatments in a basket along with his meals.

"You told me it wouldn't hurt!" Jungkook hissed the moment you applied the ointment on him, stinging his wounds.

"I told you it'd sting just a little!" You argued. "Now stop moving around, it's hard enough treating your wounds with bars in our way, don't make it harder."

"But it hurts," the young dragon whined and you laughed aloud, making him pout.

"I thought you were a big and strong dragon."

"Even the biggest and strongest dragons get hurt."

The two of you smiled at his words, a reminder of the day before.

You came back a few minutes later with a pair of clothes you managed to steal from one of the village boys. They wouldn't notice, they had plenty of clothes to spare and you needed Jungkook to have clothes so that he could at least keep warm for the chilly nights.

"What happened to your shirt?" You asked him as he placed the shirt on top of him. He was masculine, so bulk with abs that could make you full for days. But you looked away before he could notice your stare, lightly slapping yourself in the face for such imaginations.

"I guess they must've stripped it off me when I was unconscious."

Them, as in the village soldiers. You didn't like the soldiers, they were too cocky especially after capturing Jungkook. One was even consistent on trying to steal your heart, deeming himself worthy because he was part of the party that struck upon the dragon.

"Oh, I forgot!" You suddenly recalled and was quick to jump onto your feet. "I'll bring you one of my warmest blankets so that you don't have to-"

"You're leaving?"

You blinked at the disappointed sound of his voice and kept yourself from leaving just yet.

"The night can get really chilly. I'm worried about you," you told him.

But Jungkook shook his head. "I can go on another day without a warm blanket, Dragons have thick skin. But can you stay here?" He asked, eyes a little shy with a small blush painted on his cheeks. "I don't like being lonely."

"Oh."

You smiled. No one had really appreciated or even acknowledge your presence until Jungkook came along. So you stayed, sat down again and nodded.

The days went on and on like that, some bickering and little fights here and there but for the most part, the two of you got along and a friendship was growing.

But because of that, you became the center of attention when you weren't in the dungeon visiting Jungkook. The villagers would stare and talk to and about you about all sorts of things. Some deemed that Jungkook used his "powers" to keep you in there for so long every time you'd visit. There were all sorts of rumors going around and you tried to pay no mind, continuing on your task as the keeper of the dragon.

"One day, I'll free you," you told the man.

"Don't hurt yourself just for me. The villagers will turn on you."

"Why does it matter?" You shrugged. "They don't care about me except for my role of keeping an eye on a dragon. I am your keeper, Jungkook, and as your keeper, I vow to free you one day soon."

"You're a rose, Y/N," Jungkook said, eyes filled with concern for you, "and roses shouldn't try to be a thorn."

"But roses carry thorns," you argued, eyes filled with determination. "I can be brave, trust me."

"I know you can, dear one." He sighed a sad sigh. "But I'm telling you, don't hurt yourself for me."

Jungkook knew that bit by bit, he was falling for you and for a moment, he had almost forgotten about the six dragons back at home. Almost.

But he knew that in the end, it wasn't right. He was given his own mates already, ones he knew he would betray the world for without a split second of hesitation. Yet as he stared at your sad face that became more and more apparent as the days went on, Jungkook had this desiring urge to protect you from your own insecurities and the things the villagers have said about you. He knew they must have said or done something to you for you to walk into the dungeon with a face that darkened of a cloudy sky.

The longer he sat there in the dungeon waiting every night for you to return every morning, the easier it was to pick up on your fake smiles and real laughter, the easier it was for him to fall.

Yet it was forbidden to yearn for you. Not only did he have his own mates waiting for him back at home but he knew that it would be best for you to be with a man that was your own kind. A human. And the bars that separated him from ever reaching towards you reminded him each and every day.

A few nights later, Jungkook woke up at the sound of keys rattling and his head shot up with alarm, afraid it had been some soldier.

"Jungkook!"

At the sound of your harsh whisper, his brows furrowed. "Y/N what the heck are you doing?" He asked, running over towards the bar and holding onto them tightly as he stared at you with fright.

"I told you I'd set you free one day," you simply stated and then, the door opened.

He stood there frozen for the longest time, contemplating on what to do while you rushed over to his side to unlock the chains that kept him locked in. He didn't know whether to pounce onto you with a hug or scream at you to leave. He didn't know what to do. And had the doors truly opened for him to escape out of?

The second you dragged the chain off his neck, Jungkook felt free for the first time in forever, a weight taken off of him after such a long while. Literally.

"Don't cry," you told him, wiping away the tears he hadn't realized were there. Your hands were so soft, the way you cupped his face in such a gentle way. He always imagined your touches would be as gentle and soft as your heart.

Jungkook cried because your hands reminded him of the gentle touches he's once been used to from his mates, the hyungs that have always loved and taken care of him, the hyungs who were probably worried in fear each passing day, wondering whether their maknae was still alive or not. But he didn't cry just for him, he cried for you. A pure soul, a human he never knew would care so much to the point where she was saving him by risking her own life.

"We have to go, Kook, before they find out I've stolen the keys."

You took his hand into his, rough and larger, and the two of you ran into the deepest part of the forest until you finally stopped after deeming that it was finally a safe distance from your village.

"Go home, Kook," you smiled at him but he could see the glistening tears in your eyes under the moonlight.

"What about you?" He asked, holding your face in his large hands as he wiped the tears away. He'd always wanted to do that, to hold you close to him and finally he was given that chance. No bars in between to keep you apart. "They'll know that it was you who freed me, you're the only crazy one who'd free a dragon."

"I know," you chuckled through the tears, trying to make light of things. "I'll be fine."

"No, you won't." A tear slipped from his eyes. "They'll kill you, Y/N, they'll have you executed for losing a prized possession of theirs."

"I..I know." Your voice shook and you both cried a little more. "Transform now, Kook, before they find the both of us here."

He didn't want to but he knew that you were right. So lingering his fingers on you for a moment longer, not wanting to let go, he smiled at you before stepping back and then, you watched as the man in front of you transformed into the creature the villagers have come to fear and deemed the most dangerous creature in all of the lands.

When he looked back at you, eyes of a golden sun, you reached out with your hands to hold the beautiful dark scales on him, something none of the villagers would ever dare to do. But you weren't any of the villagers, you were Y/N, and Jungkook knew that Y/N was far braver and sweeter than any of those villagers.

Those eyes were still the same ones Jungkook always held despite his true dragon form and you smiled at the beautiful sight in front of you.

A loud uproar was quick to having you flinching and Jungkook looked towards the sound.

"They've found us," you gasped, turning your head back at him with alarm. "You have to leave now."

He hesitated but you were so insistent on him leaving. "Go, Jungkook. Don't let my freeing you go to waste or we'll both get executed."

"I won't let them hurt you," he vowed, "I won't let them lay a hand on you."

"Kook-"

"You saved my life, Y/N," he cut you off, "it's my turn to save yours."

You looked at him in confusion, wondering what that meant.

"Climb on my back, Y/N, ride the wind with me."

"What? Jungk-"

"Come to my village with me," he said, voice a little more desperate. "Come to my clan."

"Your clan?"

The shouting was nearing louder and louder.

"Come with me."

He lent you his back, large wings flared out and silently asking you to climb onto it so that you could reach his back.

You took a moment to look back at the loud voices that came closer and closer and then back at the eyes that had been home to you more than the village had ever been. And then, without another moment of hesitation, you climbed onto Jungkook's back and his wings flapped a few times to get themselves ready to take flight.

Yet at that moment, a bow came flying by and you were hit right near the chest, near your heart, making your body fall back and off Jungkook's back, onto the hard ground with a harsh thud.

Freedom so close yet so far away.

Jungkook growled at the soldiers that stood a few yards away, his eyes growing red at the sight of you weak and vulnerable.

His voice raged into the night sky, a cry so loud and booming that it could be heard from far, far away. He flung his tail at them, causing the soldiers to fly a few yards back.

He turned to you, whimpers leaving your lips and held you under his claws safely and securely, and then, Jungkook flew off into the night sky, riding the wind with you in hand.

#btsboulangerie #bts polyamory #bts poly #bts poly!au #bts x reader #bts ot7 x reader #ot7 x reader #bts fantasy au #bts fantasy #bts dragon au #bts dragon #bts fanfic #bts imagine #bts scenario #bts series #jungkook x reader #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook

[dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you]

I saw in your tags that there’s some old destiel fic you like on ffn. Do you have any recs ? :)

omg I haven’t been on there in years! like last time I read anything on there was like in 2014 lmao xD

32 fics total - I just checked and all of them are still up...there’s like 30+ more that I bookmarked that isn’t on the list cuz I’m not sure if they’re destiel fics or not so I gotta re-read them

all the ones below are fics that I’ve recced before in the past

1. All Angels Need Their Wings - RATING: NC-17 | LENGTH: 29,784 (2012)

Dean never thought that Castiel would ever return. And when he did, he came in a very unexpected way, a very horrifying way. SLASH Castiel/Dean. Wing-Kink. Takes place in season 7. AU.

2. Heart Trouble - RATING: NC-17 | LENGTH: 74,320 (2011)

Dean's having a harder and harder time of denying what he feels for a certain blue-eyed friend of his. And it's making him a little ornery, and a lot confused.

3. It Hurts - RATING: NC-17 | LENGTH: 29,963 (2013)

Inspired by the S9 Trailer Cas had watched the angels fall and with them, his self worth. Now human facing the challenges of navigating mortality he also tries to find a place for himself in this new world. It is a hope he has to find without the Winchesters, without Dean. So now he runs, from both Heaven, Hell and from Dean. 

4. Small Problem - RATING: NC-17 | LENGTH: 13,310 (2011)

A cursed artifact has made Castiel miniature, it's amusing for the Winchesters at first until they realize he might stay that way forever. Slash Dean/Castiel Please R&R

5 My Broken Angel - RATING: M | LENGTH: 24,999 (2010)

When Castiel disappears from his vessel, Dean is concerned. But when Castiel reappears and seems to avoid him, Dean is heartbroken. Set mid-season 5. 

6. A Hand - RATING: M | LENGTH: 23,474 (2010)

Dean/Cas, multichapter, slight AU. Dean's busy trying to re-soulify his brother, but Cas needs help. Maybe it's time Dean gave it to him. Ch. 15: Dean glared indignantly. "I find the term 'lovebirds' to be offensive. We prefer to be called 'sex-falcons.'" 

7. Saving Grace - RATING: PG-13 | LENGTH: 38,602 (2010)

With everything that was going wrong in Dean's life, it took him a while to realize that the person close to him that really needed the most help was Castiel. 

8. Candy - RATING: PG-13 | LENGTH: 98,068 (2013)

The Fall from Heaven changed everything. The supernatural no longer hidden. Angels roaming the planet. Sam and Dean's immediate concerns were on a smaller scale. What do you do with the former King of Hell? Where is Castiel?... Destiel/Mute!Human!Cas/Angst!Dean

9. Dude, Dean Looks Like a Lady - RATING: M | LENGTH: 20,774 *gen/pre-slash* (2013)

Sam's good, Cas has been found, and demons everywhere seem to be on hiatus. Seems like things are looking up for Team Free Will that is until Dean wakes up with his very own vagina anyway. Warnings: Fem!Dean, Destiel, female masturbation and S8 spoilers.

10. Evil Intent, Trials of Love, & Finding My Angel - RATING: NC-17 | LENGTH: 36,729, 70,453, & 59,941 *rape, graphic torture, violence* (2009)

Anna rapes Castiel and uses a method that torments him more than anything imaginable. WARNING: Rape and Castiel/Dean makes sense when you read it . If you don't like then don't read!

11. Cascade - RATING: PG-13 | LENGTH: 44,626 (2013)

"And if you fall as Lucifer fell, you fall in flames!" An 8x23 coda. 

12. Count The Cracks, Hear The Shatters, Feel The Insanities - RATING: PG-13 | LENGTH: 44,626 *gen/pre-slash* (2013)

They've walked miles on gravel roads that led to hell and back but the journey never quite ends. This is the story of Castiel and the Winchesters after the angels fell from heaven. Post Season 8. 

13. Damn Straight & Wait Wait Wait - RATING: PG-13 | LENGTH: about 21,000 (2010)

Humorous Cas/Dean, with multiple POVs. Slight AU. Fluffy. Ch. 5: Sam sat in the Impala in the motel parking lot, praying that three and a half hours at the library had been long enough.

14. Entertaining Angels - RATING: PG-13 | LENGTH: 43,659 *gen/pre-slash* (2008)

A strange boy shows up at Dean and Sam’s motel room. Maybe he needs help, or maybe he’s there to help them—they can’t quite tell. Spoilers through 4.10. Not an OC. 

15. Happy Friggin’ Valentine’s Day - RATING: PG-13 | LENGTH: 22,771 (2010)

SLASH. It all started with Dean's perfectly healthy hatred of frivilous holidays and a much-coveted sack of dust. Poor Castiel doesn't fully understand 'romance' to begin with, and this crash course is most unwelcome. 

16. I’m Just a Love Machine - RATING: PG-13 | LENGTH: 29,200 (2011)

The Impala finally gets the chance to love Dean back. The problem is, Castiel seems to be in its way. 

17. It’s The Great Destiel Shipper, Sam Winchester - RATING: PG-13 | LENGTH: 49,641 (2012)

What's Sam really doing all that time on the computer? Fangirling. Over Chuck's Supernatural books. Now Wincest might be a bit too much to deal with, but Destiel he might be able to get on board with... Especially after being around the two people involved for three days straight. 

18. Pain in the Head - RATING: PG-13 | LENGTH: 78,771 *character death* (2011)

It started out slow. "Since when do angels have headaches?" "Since they become human." Established Dean/Cas. Sort of AU. PG-13. Complete. 

19. Sleep in Heavenly Peace - RATING: PG-13 | LENGTH: 45,517 *christmas fic* (2013)

Dean wants to have a nice, peaceful Christmas for once, but it seems like the universe won't let him. Dean/Castiel. Post-8.08 (Hunteri Heroici) AU. First in "Holidays With the Winchesters are Always Fun." 

20. The Shattered One - RATING: PG-13 | LENGTH: 94,021 *grace mpreg* (2012)

When it struck Castiel, it dropped him out of the sky. He set down the first place he could find. He stood in a field in Switzerland, swaying on his feet and staring down at his body, dazed by what it had just done.

21. This Cupid Isn’t Stupid - RATING: PG-13 | LENGTH: 41,572 (2012)

Dean receives a shock when he wakes up to discover Castiel has returned. Why is the angel suddenly back? Why have his powers dimmed? And.. Why are he and Dean joined together by an invisible rope!

22. Wild Horses, Cas - RATING: PG-13 | LENGTH: 23,505 (2013)

(S8 Spoilers (story is set in S9), Sickfic! Destiel, Minor Sabriel). When Cas comes down with a bad case of Pneumonia it leaves Dean feeling more protective over his friend than ever, but will it also lead to Dean's admittance of his feelings towards his friend? 

23. Wrong - RATING: PG-13 | LENGTH: 51,384 (2010)

Angels are not supposed to drop out of the sky into motel rooms, broken and beaten. They're not supposed to bleed like that. It was all wrong. 

24. The Reluctant Contestant - RATING: PG-13 | LENGTH: 50,502 (2012)

AU When Gabriel is hired as a new host for a dating show, Cas has no choice but to follow his brother along as part of the camera crew. Forced at the last minute to be a contestant, he is shocked when Dean Winchester continually refuses to eliminate him. 

25. The Ugly Duckling - RATING: PG-13 | LENGTH: 81,676 (2012)

Castiel: a nerdy, skinny thing with a crush on the the most popular guy in class. Being unpopular isn't easy and it's worse when the homophobic school figures him out. A small struggle to be noticed by his crush is turned into a huge struggle for himself and his dignity. But bullying can get the better of anyone. Slash. Destiel rated M for later chapters. 

26. Nameless - RATING: PG-13 | LENGTH: 77,882 (2013)

AU. Everyone has the name of their soulmate written on their wrist at birth. Well, everyone except Dean Winchester. Complete. 

27. Cufflinks - RATING: M | LENGTH: 61,845 (2012)

The world is full of creatures that prey on humans. It is up to 'Hunters' to fight against the dark. Lucky Hunters rely on the help of angels they have bound to their service. Sam and Dean may be good Hunters, but they have yet to capture an angel. One day, Sam finds an angel and seizes the opportunity to bind the angel to himself. Little did they know what they were getting into. 

28. Angel Training - RATING: M | LENGTH: 95,700, Angel Training 2: Save Us - RATING: M | LENGTH: 76,888, & Angel Training 3: Uprising - RATING: M | LENGTH: 89,512 (2011)

In a world where angels are common and the most privileged or skilled people are able to own one; the world's angelic hierarchy is about to change when Dean Winchester receives a wild and recently caught angel.

29. Chasing Your Shadow - RATING: M | LENGTH: 92,077 (2012)

The prophecy says that when Castiel turns twenty-three winters old, a stranger will come into his life and bring a lot of suffering. But do prophecies always come true? Demon Dean/human Castiel AU 

30. The Holiday - RATING: M | LENGTH: 32,088 (2011)

Castiel and Sam are unlucky in both life and love, so they swap houses for the holidays. Both find the experience highly...interesting. Dean/Castiel Sam/Gabriel

31. And In Your Arms I Shall Find Shelter- RATING: M | LENGTH: 33,824 (2012)

Dean Winchester is a long forgotten painter who suddenly receives an order for a painting from a rich man - Crowley. He is about to start painting when Castiel - his personal reaper visits him. The main question is: Will Castiel give Dean enough time to finish the painting? 

32. Jar of Hearts - RATING: PG-13 | LENGTH: 127,192 (2013)

February being the supposed 'month of love' people seem to forget that it's also one of the coldest times of the year. Valentine's Day themed events in a cafe turned bar is how Dean managed the courage to speak to the locally famous singer and somehow score a date, a relationship, and a man he didn't deserve out of the deal. Destiel college/uniAU some Sabriel 

#ask me stuff #my fic recs #destiel #spn fanfic #Anonymous

[superhusbands4ever]

The Chain - Chapter 3/15

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Full Work | AO3 Link

Fandom: The Bad Batch (Star Wars)

Characters: Crosshair, Hunter, Howzer, Rex, Wrecker, Tech, Echo, Omega, Various Clones

Relationships: Crosshair & Howzer, Crosshair & Rex, Crosshair & The Bad Batch, Crosshair & Omega, Hunter & Rex, Hunter & Omega

Additional Tags: Redemption, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Found Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: One year after the events of The Bad Batch, Crosshair struggles to reconcile his choice with the harsh truth of the world around him. He finds enlightenment in the most unlikely of places and realizes he may have made the wrong decision. But is it too late to do something about it?

Two years after the events of The Bad Batch, Rex reluctantly agrees to allow Hunter and his squad to help him rescue a man who's been captured by the Empire, an Imperial double agent who's cover has been blown. What Hunter thought to be a simple extraction ends up having far greater consequences for their squad than he could have ever anticipated.

Chapter Warnings: violence/torture, electrocution, anti-clone prejudice, the Empire being the Empire

Most people are drowning in their delusional ignorance without knowing that their suffering was created by themselves.

Jakusho Kwong Roshi

The disk exploded in the air as the blaster bolt hit it, shattering into tiny pieces that clattered onto the floor to join the fragmented remains of the other disks before it.

Crosshair adjusted his grip on his rifle and signaled to the droid at the end of the range to volley another round of disks. The kickback on his rifle against his shoulder was comforting and familiar, the same as it had been since he was old enough to hold the firepuncher up in his arms for the first time.

Shooting the disks was ridiculously easy, no matter how quickly the training droid launched them, but Crosshair wasn’t looking for a challenge. He came to the range to keep his mind busy, a distraction, a mindless task that would give him time to think away from everyone around him.

It had been three months since the destruction of Tipoca City, and three months since Crosshair had made the choice to leave his brothers and return to the Empire.

Those three months had been… interesting, to say the least.

It took the Imperial scouts two days to find Crosshair on that platform. Of course those two days were the two days Kamino decided not to be the stormy landscape it was infamous for. By the time the scouts picked him up he was half delirious from heat exhaustion, dehydration, and his head was covered in burns from the blistering sun.

He woke up again a few days later as they pulled him out of a bacta tank. He’d barely had time to process what was happening before he was being dragged to an interrogation room by a couple of commandos to be questioned by Rampart.

That hadn’t been pleasant.

It was another month before he was sent on missions on his own, before that ordered only to follow Rampart around like he was his personal bodyguard. He knew it was so Rampart could keep an eye on his every move, so he could make sure Crosshair could still be trusted.

Fair, he supposed. Even he could admit his story was shaky at best.

He’d spun some story or another about the girl setting off the training droids in the training room in Tipoca City, his squad being overrun by the droids before the bombardment started. When explaining how he’d escaped alive, Crosshair figured the best lies were the ones that were buried at least partially in the truth.

He told Rampart that he’d been knocked out by his former squad members in the chaos. That they picked him up and dragged him out of the city as they tried to escape. He wasn’t sure why.  He didn't need to lie about that.

He told Rampart about the girl rescuing him, about his squad’s escape through the tunnels to Nala Se’s old lab. He told him about their plan to use the pods to escape to the surface, using that AZI unit as their guide.

And then. And then.

“You were working with them?”

“No,” Crosshair said, staring up at Rampart from the ground. “I was using them. Pretending to work with them until we reached the surface platform.”

“Yes,” Rampart said slowly, “the platform with no ship. How did they get onto Kamino, then?”

“They had help. Communications were down underwater so they needed to reach the surface to call their extraction. They’d just broken CC-5576 out of Daro base, I assume they were working with him.”

Rampart hummed, blank face giving nothing away.

“When we removed your inhibitor chip, Commander, you assured me that your loyalty to the Empire would not be in question. Was that a lie?”

Crosshair shifted in the trooper’s grip in an attempt to get the pressure off of his undoubtedly broken ribs.

“No, sir,” he gasped, biting back a grunt when the commando tightened his grip, forcing Crosshair to arch his back.

Something snapped. Definitely broken then.

“Good,” Rampart said softly. He gestured to the commando and Crosshair was dropped unceremoniously to the ground. He groaned as the muscles in his shoulders finally relaxed. “I would hate to have to replace such a… valuable asset as yourself.”

“They won’t be a problem anymore.”

“So you’ve said. It is unfortunate they won’t be an asset in the pocket of the Empire, but if they were going to be a thorn in our side then I suppose it’s for the best that they’re dead. And you are… sure they are dead, aren’t you?”

Crosshair turned to spit a mouthful of blood at the ground before turning to look at the vice-admiral. He couldn’t quite bring himself to look the man in the eye, instead looking at a spot just below on his cheekbone.

“Their pods were crushed when the lab flooded,” Crosshair said, swallowing hard. “I saw it. To the best of my knowledge, no one could have survived that.”

Rampart stared dispassionately down at Crosshair for a long moment.

“I certainly hope so, Commander. For your sake.”

There was a small part of Crosshair that wondered why he bothered lying, why he was still protecting those traitors. Maybe part of it was self preservation - if he told Rampart that he let the Bad Batch survive and escape, it would undoubtedly end badly for him. The Vice-Admiral had already made that abundantly clear.

He knew it was deeper than that, though, loath as he was to admit it.

He could have done it. He could have killed them. They’d refused to join him, refused to join the Empire, so it was the logical next step in his orders. It would have been so easy, too, distracted as they were by the kid drowning beneath the water. Hunter had brought his rifle and his pack with him into the tube. No one was paying attention to him. If he’d moved quickly enough, he could have grabbed the rifle, shot Hunter and the others, and left the kid to drown. All that would have been left to do was swim to the platform, steal the ship, and fly back to the Daro base to contact Rampart.

He’d been so close. He’d lifted the rifle and had it pointed between Hunter’s eyes before he’d even realized what he was doing.

But something had stayed his hand.

He’d stared down into Hunter’s tired eyes, finger on the trigger and ready to pull, but no matter how much he tried he couldn’t do it. Instead, he did something he’d never done before.

He froze.

Maybe it was a misplaced sense of loyalty. An old holdout feeling, a remnant from the days they were a team, a family. When Crosshair would have been the first to shoot anyone pointing a blaster in Hunter’s face the way he’d been. Maybe it was him returning the favor, remembering that Hunter had saved him, had still grabbed his body and taken him to safety despite everything the two of them had done to each other that day. Maybe it was him remembering the fervor with which Omega had ordered AZI to help rescue him from under the debris so he wouldn’t drown in the cold ocean water.

Maybe it was the memory of Hunter’s voice breaking with desperation when he asked Crosshair how long he’d been without the inhibitor chip. When he’d realized that all of Crosshair’s decisions that led them to that point were entirely his own.

This is who I am.

Or maybe it was the way those familiar brown eyes, eyes that had once looked at him with love and warmth, had looked at him not with surprise or anger, but with resignation . Hunter hadn’t looked at him and felt betrayed or shocked - instead he’d looked at Crosshair with empty acceptance, like he knew this was what Crosshair was planning to do all along and knew he couldn’t fight it. It was like Hunter had finally given up - given up on him .

I wanted to believe it was the inhibitor chip that made you like this, but I was wrong.

Maybe it was the way those same brown eyes had looked at him with that same tired acceptance in Nala Se’s lab, this time on a smaller feminine frame beneath pale, blonde hair.

Before he could even really process what he was doing he’d pulled the rifle away from Hunter and pointed it into the murky waters below. Hunter couldn’t see into the water, but Crosshair could - he could see through the grime and the darkness and the debris to the slowly sinking blur of the girl clinging to the droid. Looking through the scope he realized he was likely the only one of the group who had the ability to save her and survive while doing it. He’d fired the grapple without second thought.

It was after, when he looked back at the others and saw Tech, Echo, and Wrecker shamelessly pointing their own blasters at him, that he realized his plan was never going to work anyway. There was no way his old squad was going to follow him, to come back and join him in the Empire. Whatever bond had existed between them all those years together had broken and he wasn’t sure there was a way for them to get it back. His brothers didn’t trust him anymore and they likely never would.

Once the girl was safely pulled into the pod it was with that knowledge that he tossed his firepuncher back to Wrecker. He sat down in the pod and avoided eye contact with Hunter, not wanting to see the cold blankness in his eyes again. He’d desperately tried to ignore the gnawing in his chest, the emptiness he felt at the thought of his brothers leaving without him again like he knew they were going to.

He couldn’t even watch as Marauder flew away from him for a fourth time, fearful that they’d see the extra shine lingering on his eyes in Kamino’s rare sunlight.

He still tried to ignore the gnawing in his chest that he felt even now, three months later. His temple throbbed and he shook his head to try and clear it.

His thoughts were interrupted by a chime at the door, a warning to whoever was down range that someone was about to enter. The door slid open with a quiet whoosh and ES-02 walked in.

“Commander,” she said with a nod, standing at attention just inside the doorway.

“What do you want?” He said, shooting down the range again when the droid threw the next disk. The shot hit just as the disk was reaching the peak of it’s arch through the air.

“Admiral Rampart has requested you meet him in interrogation room 4-8C,” she said, and he lowered his rifle with a sigh. “He has asked that I escort you.”

“I don’t need a minder,” he said with a roll of his eyes. Still, he stepped back from the range and disengaged his rifle, pulling the nozzle attachment off and slipping it into his pack.

“Vice Admiral’s orders, sir,” she said with a shrug.

Crosshair nodded, slipping his pack onto his back before reaching down beside him to pick up his helmet. He slipped it on, sliding his firepuncher over his shoulder until he heard and felt the metallic clink of it as the magnetic hold in his pack activated.

“Let’s go, then,” he said, gesturing toward the open door behind her.

ES-02 nodded and turned, gesturing for Crosshair to step out in front of her.

They set off down the hallway, ES-02 following a half step behind him to the right. They made their way quickly through the facility until they got to the lift. Once inside, Crosshair swiped his access card to activate the lift and it started lowering itself to the fourth floor.

After a few moments of ES-02’s shuffling and sneaking glances, Crosshair rolled his eyes.

“What?”

She twitched slightly, looking over at Crosshair with what he could only assume were raised eyebrows under her helmet.

“Sir?”

“You have something to say,” he said slowly, as if talking to a small child. “What is it?”

She said nothing, staring at him for a long moment before shaking her head and turning back to the front.

“Nothing, sir.”

He had to fight to not roll his eyes again. These conscripted soldiers were a real pain, and for once in his life Crosshair actually found himself missing the regs. If for no other reason than for their ability to act like actual soldiers and not just gossipy children who thought they were good at lying.

The lift came to a stop and Crosshair stepped out as the door opened, not pausing to wait and see if ES-02 followed him.

He quickly came upon room 4-8C and turned back to the other trooper before he went inside.

“I think I can handle myself from here,” he said dryly. “You’re dismissed.”

She hesitated and her movements shuttered slightly before she jerked her arm up in a salute, nodding as she turned to walk away. He kept his eyes on her back until she turned the corner out of sight.

With a sigh, Crosshair inserted his code into the pad by the door and stepped cautiously into the interrogation room, still unsure what exactly he was walking into.

“Ah, Commander,” Rampart called out. “Thank you for joining us.”

Rampart was standing in the middle of the room next to a blue containment field. In the field’s ray was a man, a clone based on the blacks and the build, head hung low to his chest.

Crosshair slowly crossed the room, stopping at attention behind Rampart.

“The good captain and I were just about to have a long overdue discussion, Commander, and I thought you might like to assist,” Rampart said with a smirk. “You two have a history after all.”

The clone in the containment field finally lifted his head, and Crosshair’s eyes widened slightly behind his helmet as he took in the scarred face beneath scraggly facial hair.

Crosshair hadn’t seen Captain Howzer since he was arrested on Ryloth. Not long after he was arrested Crosshair had been sent back to Kamino to help oversee the decommissioning of Tipoca City. He never knew what became of Howzer, assumed the man had been decommed or reconditioned - if the Empire still bothered with that sort of thing - and he hadn’t spared the other clone a second thought. A few weeks later and the call informing him of Hunter’s capture came in, completely removing the reg from Crosshair’s sphere of concern.

Now here he was, and he certainly didn’t look like the headstrong Captain he remembered on Ryloth. His face was gaunt, his cheekbones stood out sharper than any clone’s should, and his hair was longer, lanky and flopping over his eyes. His face didn’t look any better, skin mottled with black, green, and yellow bruising. He hadn’t shaved in quite some time, and the black facial hair was growing in patches around the scar tissue on his cheek and chin.

The biggest change was in his eyes - whereas the last time Crosshair had seen him his eyes had burned bright with passionate self-righteousness as he rallied the other regs against the Empire, now his eyes were dull. They lacked the intensity, the heat they’d once held within. Before him now were the eyes of a broken man, tired and so beat down he could barely hide it, leaving him a shell of the man Crosshair briefly knew. Crosshair wasn’t sure what the Empire had done to the clone captain, but whatever it was, it wasn’t pretty.

Something about the image tweaked some long forgotten, deeply buried part of his mind. There was something about seeing another clone, strung up like a puppet and beaten down, that left a sour taste on the back of his tongue, but he pushed it down. This man was a traitor to the Empire. This is what he deserved.

“I just have a few questions to ask you, CT-7569,” Rampart was saying as he walked around the containment field, staring up without feeling at the clone held within. “As long as you answer my questions honestly and without issue, no one has to get hurt.”

Rampart stopped when he reached Crosshair.

“Commander, if you would be so kind as to make sure he answers my questions honestly, and without issue,” Rampart said.

He held something out in his hands and Crosshair looked down to see an electro-baton in his palm.

Reaching forward slowly, he wrapped his hand around the hilt of the baton. Before he could pull it from the Vice Admiral’s palm, the other man closed his hand around the opposite end.

“Consider this a reminder of what happens to those who conspire against the Empire,” Rampart said softly, staring directly into Crosshair’s visor. Crosshair narrowed his eyes at the other man from behind his helmet, cognizant of the fact that the words were said quietly enough there was no way Howzer had heard them.

He wasn’t meant to. They weren’t meant for him .

Crosshair pulled the baton out of the nat-born’s hands and walked to the other side of the containment field. He pressed the button on the end of the baton and the tip crackled with electricity as it powered up.

“CT-7569, I have to say, I am very disappointed,” Rampart said, continuing his stroll around the containment field. Howzer followed him with lazy eyes. “Your service record during the war was quite impressive. The way you were able to maintain hold of the capital even after that Jedi scum was killed was quite the feat.”

Howzer shifted slightly, eyes glowering down at the nat-born, but he said nothing. Crosshair tightened his grip in the baton.

“You could have done great things for the Empire,” Rampart was saying. “But you threw it all away. And for what? A little girl? One man and his wife?”

Howzer growled low in his throat, but didn’t move.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

The reg continued to glare.

“Commander,” Rampart called, not taking his eyes off of the captain. “If you would.”

Crosshair clenched the end of the baton and lifted it, pressing it into the small of Howzer’s back.

Crosshair had to admit, he admired the way the other clone didn’t scream or yell. Howzer arched his back, breathing frantically through his nose as the pain built, his arms and legs trembling where they were held in place by the energy shackles.

Crosshair pulled the baton back and Howzer collapsed as much as he could while in the field's ray, his back and shoulders slumping as his head dropped listlessly to his chest. His shaky breathing cut sharply through the quiet stillness of the room.

“Well?” Rampart said, eyebrows quirked.

Howzer whined low in his throat, lifting his head just enough to look out at Rampart through hooded eyes.

“Howzer,” he croaked, voice hoarse. “Captain. Grand Army of the Republic. Designation CT-7569.”

Rampart said nothing, just continued to stare blankly at the clone captain. Eventually he turned to look at Crosshair and nodded.

Crosshair lifted the baton again, pressing it harder into Howzer’s back. This time Howzer couldn’t quite hold back his scream before he cut himself off, and Crosshair pretended not to notice the way his own hand twitched as the sound cut through the buzz of electricity.

“What can you tell me about the resistance on Ryloth?” Rampart asked once Crosshair pulled the baton back again. Howzer hung panting heavily within the containment field’s ray.

“I know Cham and Eleni were planning something,” Rampart continued as he walked around Howzer’s hanging form. “Those fighters they had at their disposal, the ones who attacked our transport--”

“You kidnapped their daughter ,” Howzer hissed, “what did you expect them to do?”

“Don’t play coy with me, clone ,” Rampart snapped, “you and I both know they were planning something before that. Arresting their brat just moved up the timeline.”

“Go to hell!” Howzer snapped back.

Rampart stepped back. “Commander, if you would.”

Crosshair’s hand twitched around the baton handle.

“9904!”

Crosshair’s hand jerked up, pressing the baton harshly into Howzer’s back once again. This time the clone captain couldn’t hold back the screams as the muscles in his back contorted violently again. Crosshair closed his eyes as the pain in his head rose in pitch with the man’s cries.

Finally, Crosshair pulled the baton back and Howzer slumped inward on himself with a whine, his head lolling forward against his chest. His breathing was shallow but slow, the muscles in his arms and shoulders twitching seemingly involuntarily.

“You tried to recruit other clones in your little insurrection,” Rampart said, leaning forward close to Howzer’s face. “I know how close you were to them. Who else is involved? What were they planning? Where are Cham and Eleni Syndulla?”

Surprisingly, the clone laughed. It was a dark and brittle thing that sounded ugly and wrong coming from the once amiable man.

“Save your breath,” Howzer said, glaring down at Rampart with a smug smile. “I’m not telling you anything. You may as well just go ahead and kill me.”

“No,” Rampart smiled back, and even Crosshair felt a modicum of apprehension at the wolfish look. “I won’t be letting you off that easily.”

Rampart took a step back, pulling a comm out of his pocket and pressing a button to activate it. The door slid open behind him and two TK troopers walked in.

“Commander,” he said, turning to Crosshair who was still standing behind Howzer with the now de-powered baton in his hand. “If you could escort CT-7569 back to his cell. It looks like we’ll just have to try this again later.”

Crosshair nodded and attached the baton to a hook on his utility belt. Rampart quickly left the room and Crosshair walked back around to the front of the containment field as the two TK troopers worked on removing Howzer from the ray.

The ray abruptly turned off and Crosshair watched as Howzer collapsed to the ground in a pile of limbs. He didn’t even try to fight as one TK trooper pulled him upright again by the arms, roughly shoving his arms behind his back and slapping a pair of binders onto his wrists. He groaned quietly as the manhandling no doubt pulled on his abused and aching body, but otherwise made no protest.

Once they were finished the two troopers stood back and looked up at Crosshair for instruction. Crosshair paused, staring down at the other clone.

Finally, Howzer lifted his head and stared up at Crosshair with wide, tired eyes. Somehow he managed to meet Crosshair’s eyes through the visor and Crosshair froze.

For a second Crosshair wasn’t staring down into the eyes of a broken clone captain turned traitor. For a second he looked at Howzer and saw another pale, gaunt, and tortured reg. Only instead of tired defeat he saw bright, beholden eyes, staring up at him with gratitude from the floor of the Marauder as they thanked him for helping to rescue him from Skako Minor.

Swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat he jerked his gaze away and gestured to the two troopers still standing at attention in front of him.

“Let’s go,” he said, turning toward the exit. Howzer grunted behind him as he was yanked to his feet and Crosshair closed his eyes against the pain in his temples that throbbed in time with his racing heart.

~

After he’d left Howzer chained up in his cell, he started the trek back to his quarters. The pain in his head had abated somewhat, but the day had left him exhausted and he was ready to lay down and attempt some sleep for the night.

The headaches had been getting worse lately, but the medics in the infirmary assured him time and time again that there was nothing wrong with him. Stress, maybe, they said. Psychosomatic. Most days were better than others but occasionally when the pain got too bad, when he couldn’t ignore the bright spots in his vision or the way his hands would tremble, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was something they weren’t telling him.

The chip was gone, he knew that for a fact. Had seen the thing, fried and burnt looking, when they’d pulled it from his head after it was damaged on Bracca. Why some of the side effects seemed to linger, he didn’t know, and he didn’t have the energy to ask. He didn’t think he’d get an honest answer anyway.

It was just a little pain. He was used to pain, he could handle it.

The lift opened finally and he had to put conscious effort into not groaning out loud when he saw ES-02 standing inside.

They both stared at each other for a second before she stepped to the side so Crosshair could enter.

One he was inside and the lift began moving, 02 shuffled her feet before turning her head toward him.

“What did Rampart want?”

“Questioning that insurrectionist we arrested on Ryloth,” Crosshair said, leaning back against the transparasteel wall with his arms crossed. “See what he knows about the resistance on the planet.”

02 hummed. “Anything?”

“He still won’t talk,” Crosshair said. “But Rampart wants to break him.”

“Do you think he will?”

The lift began to slow to a stop.

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug as he pushed off the walk. “The Kaminoans trained us to withstand most interrogation and torture techniques. It might end up working against the Empire’s favor, ironically.”

“I don’t know why he’s bothering,” she said with a shake of her head. “It’s been nearly five months since that clone was arrested and he hasn’t said anything yet. If it were up to me I’d just get rid of him and be done with it.”

“I suppose he should be grateful it isn’t up to you, then,” Crosshair said dryly as they stepped off the lift towards his quarters.

“Honestly, he’s just a clone. Rampart should just put him down and move on.”

Crosshair abruptly stopped in the middle of the hallway and ES-02 nearly stumbled into him before she caught herself.

“‘ Just a clone?’ ”

ES-02 shrugged. “Well… yeah. I mean, there’s thousands of them. What’s one less?”

Crosshair hummed as he stared down the other woman, not sure if he should be insulted or impressed by her audacity. Not that it wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard from nat-borns before, even with the Republic. Or, admittedly, nothing he hadn’t thought for himself once or twice in his darker, more embittered moments. But for her to say it to his face, as her superior officer, was either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.

He took off down the hallway again, fighting the urge to groan out loud as she continued to follow him. He was nearly to his quarters now, where hopefully he could get some peace and quiet to deal with his headache. If she tried to follow him inside, he might just shoot her and be done with it.

“I’m surprised Rampart is letting you near him, actually,” she was saying as they neared his door. “Considering how royally you screwed up dealing with those clones last time.”

This time when Crosshair stopped suddenly she did run into him. He watched with the smallest ping of satisfaction as she stumbled and had to catch herself on the wall.

“ What did you just say?”

She stared at him for a long moment. Her armor clanked loudly in the hallway as she shifted, apparently internally debating how far she wanted to take this.

“You heard me,” she said finally. “I think the Vice Admiral may be putting a little too much faith in you, is all.”

Crosshair’s eyes narrowed behind his visor and he rested his hand on the holster of the DC-17 on his hip. ES-02’s eyes followed the movement, but she didn’t stand down. In a moment of sudden clarity, every slightly off comment, every insubordinate slip, every “misheard” order and twitchy glance over the last three months flashed to the forefront of his memory.

“If you have something to say to me, then say it,” He growled, stepping forward.

ES-02 shifted slightly, hands fidgeting on their rifle, before stepping forward into Crosshair’s space in a way that was likely meant to be intimidating.

“I don’t trust you,” she said quietly, her visor boring into his. “I don’t know how you got off of Kamino alive, but I know you didn’t do it alone. You may have Rampart fooled, but I was there. I know what I saw.”

Crosshair tilted his head. “And what is it you think you saw?”

“I saw our squads’ bodies on the ground. I saw you fighting side by side with those clones.”

“The girl activated the battle droids,” he reminded her. “The girl you were supposed to capture. Are you really so incompetent you let a child and her droid get the best of you?”

ES-02 had the grace to flinch back a little at that, but she held her ground.

“You really expect me to believe our squad was taken out by simulation droids? ”

“Yes,” he said simply. “Maybe if they all weren’t so inept they would still be alive.”

ES-02 bristled and pushed further into his space until their helmets were nearly touching. He held his ground, arms at rest behind his back and he stared back at her dispassionately.

“Or maybe the droids were just a convenient excuse,” she said. “Maybe that was your plan all along. Get your old squad back to Kamino, overrun and kill us so you could get your little friends back.”

She let out a humorless chuckle, head tilted to the side as she regarded him.

“Though I guess they didn’t want you, either.”

“Careful, trooper,” he hissed, finally pushing back into her space. “I could have you court martialed.”

She shook her head, taking a step back.

“You think you’re so important, don’t you?” Her voice dripped with condescension. “You mean nothing . You’re an obsolete meat droid created to die in a war that doesn’t exist anymore. You’ve outlived your purpose. It’s only a matter of time before Rampart realizes that, and when he does? I’ll make sure they dump your body at the bottom of the Kaminoan ocean where it belongs.”

All you’ll ever be to them is a number.

“Get out of my sight,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Yes, sir,” she said, giving him a sloppy ‘ kark you’ salute, disdain clear in her tone, “ Commander.”

He watched the woman retreat down the hall until she was out of sight before turning and punching in the code to his quarters.

As the door slid shut behind him, he reached up and pulled his helmet off, throwing it across the room with a strangled yell. His head suddenly felt like it was on fire and he reached up to press his fingers to his aching temple.

If it were up to me I’d just get rid of him and be done with it.

I certainly hope so, Commander… for your sake.

We still would've taken you.

You’re my brother, too.

With a groan he collapsed onto his bed, burying his face in his hands as voices played over each other in his mind, desperately trying to ignore the cold that had settled in the pit of his stomach.

#cady writes #the chain #the bad batch #tbb #tbb fanfiction #star wars the bad batch #sw tbb #tbb crosshair #crosshair #my fic

[jawritter]

I’ll Wait For You

Summary: Sometimes when we’re angry, hurt, or scared we say things wrong. Say things that hurt the ones we love. When Dean takes things a step to far can you find it in your heart to forgive him?

Word Count: 3151 (oops...)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Prompt: Did I stutter? Do as you’re told!

Warnings: Dean’s a bit of a dick, angst, hurt feelings, unrequited/requited maybe? language because it’s me, I think that’s about it.

A/N: This fic was written for Chan’s 500 follower challenge! Congrats hun! @msmarvelouswinchester. It was also beta’d by @miss-nerd95! Thanks again love! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! Hope you all enjoy this one!

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It was always the same old dance between Dean and you lately. The same old seven and six. Dean barked orders to everyone in the car, expected everyone to follow them to the letter, just as he’d been instructed by John all those years ago. 

Dean knew the way his Dad had raised him had been wrong, he even admitted it now, but some habits were hard to break. Dean was used to being in control and he hated things that were not. Maybe it was because things had the tendency to get out of hand in his life so much. So much loss, so many deaths, and a lot more regrets. 

Sam had gotten accustomed to Dean’s 'take charge' attitude over the years and all but brushed it off and ignored the sting his voice tended to carry most of the time. It bothered Jack to no end, and you started to think that was one of the reasons Sam suggested he stop coming on hunts with you all, while Cas opted to stay behind with Jack. Dean and Cas’s friendship had been a rocky one for years now anyway, the kid just added to the stress.

So you found yourself where you started with the Winchesters all those years ago, covered in mud, glaring out of the window in the backseat of Baby as Dean teared you a new one for some order you didn’t bother following. 

This time though, unlike all those years ago, you had developed deep feelings for the elder Winchester, and every stab he took at you with every passing mile seemed to dig deeper and deeper into your very soul. You could feel tears burning in your eyes as he continued with his rant and you prayed the Bunker would appear quickly, because you didn’t know how much more of his harsh words you could take.

“Y/N!” Dean’s yell broke through mental walls you had built up to ignore him, making you jump as your eyes met a furious gaze in the rearview mirror of Baby, street lights out the window giving you brief glimpses of his livid face. “Answer me dammit! Why the fuck did you not go through the back exit like I told you to, instead of coming down the fucking hallway and right in the center of the Goddamn nest!”

You could feel the anger boiling just underneath the surface of all the hurt of being called a bad hunter and a liability, and an ignorant bitch that you couldn’t take it anymore. You could only shake a coke bottle so long before the building pressure inside exploded and you were right there, about to lose your shit.

You knew that was unwise, especially during the mood Dean was in, so you just bit your lip to keep from screaming at him, and looked him dead in the eyes. 

“I’m sorry Dean, I messed up. I admit it. I heard Sam screaming at you, and I thought something bad had happened. I’m sorry.”

That did nothing but infuriate Dean further, his eyes shifting from the road ahead of him to you again in the mirror. 

“You were given a direct order to go through the back door for a reason, you could have got yourself killed, or Sam killed! Do you understand that!” 

“I’m sorry Dean-” 

“NO!” Dean explodes pulling the car over the side of the road, and for a moment you felt like your heart had stopped. The thought that he might either kick you out of the car or the Bunker, or both rolling around in your mind. “WHEN I TELL YOU THINGS IT’S NOT ONLY FOR YOUR OWN GOOD, BUT FOR THE GOOD OF EVERYONE INVOLVED! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!”

Sam sat up a little straighter, looking at his brother directly for the first time since he’d started arguing with you. Dean had turned around to face you in the driver’s seat. His face was red and angry, nostrils flared and jaw clenched so tight you could see his jugular vein right under the collar of his black and grey flannel.

You couldn’t answer him, your heart was pounding so hard in your rib cage that you were sure the boys could hear it in the front seat.

“ANSWER ME! AM I SPEAKING A FOREIGN LANGUAGE?!” 

“Dean!” Sam scolded in a stern voice. Dean gave him a look before lowering his volume, but turned his angry gaze back on your shaking form. You had never realized Dean could be so terrifying when he became angry because it had never been directed at you before. 

“Dean, I’m so sorry... “

“I don’t want to hear ‘I’m sorry’ Y/N, Did I stutter? Do as you're told! That’s all I want you to do! Just do what the fuck you're told, and keep your ass alive by doing so, understand?” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, never taking your eyes off of Dean’s. His gaze was hard, unnerving, and so angry that it reminded you of when he had the mark.

“I understand, Dean,” you finally were able to answer him.

Dean nodded, eyes taking in your visibly shaking form as you tried to make yourself as small as possible in the backseat. Sam was glaring daggers at his brother, but Dean didn’t seem to either notice or care. Finally he turned around and started the car again. A few tears slipped down your checks and you caught them quickly, doing all you could to hold rest in. 

The rest of the car ride was silent. No one said a word. Dean didn’t even turn on the radio. You kept your focus on the passing landscape as the Bunker grew closer and closer. 

Finally, after what felt like hours, Dean pulled into Baby’s usual parking place and you were out of the car and through the door before either of the boys could even move. 

“Y/N!” Dean called in a much softer voice than he’d used in the car but you didn’t even turn around when you answered him. You just wanted to get alone where you could cry.

“I’m going to take a shower,” you half heartedly yell over your shoulder. 

You didn’t give him time to respond before you disappeared behind the door of your bedroom, leaving the Winchesters standing in the library. You knew Sam wasn’t happy with Dean, but you really wished the younger of the two would just leave the other alone. 

You didn’t know what would happen if Sam poked the already vexed bear and you weren’t sure you could handle another fight with Dean at that magnitude. 

When you’d heard Sam yell Dean’s name, you assumed the worst. You felt like your heart fell at your feet. You just knew something horrible had happened to him and as mad as you were at him right now, you couldn't live in a world Dean didn’t exist in. 

Grabbing your clothes in a quick, yet somehow nonchalant movement, you made your way to the shower, and turned on the spray as hot as you could stand it. Mechanically stripping out of your muddy clothes before stepping under the scalding spray. 

You weren’t angry really, now that you were thinking about it, you were just hurt. Dean had looked like he hated you in the car tonight. Like if he could have gotten away with it, he would have killed you, which you knew was possible and that made it even more scary. You were a fool to ever think that Dean would ever have the same feelings for you that you had for him, and you knew that, but you didn’t realize how much he hated you.

That’s what made the dam of emotions that you had been holding back the whole way to the Bunker shatter. Deep, heart-breaking sobs racked through your body as your heart cracked into pieces  and slipped down the drain the water was draining in at your feet with the water that was rolling off of your body. 

Part of you screamed that you should leave the Bunker. Then another part of you, a much larger part of you, said you’d never survive if you did. Being a female hunter was dangerous, but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was, you couldn’t leave Dean behind, and if you did, then it would be because he forced you, and that, you knew, would surely kill you. 

You stood there sobbing under the hot spray until it turned cold, washing your hair and body as tears streamed down your face in a now steady flow, only hidden by the water pouring around you. When you finally couldn't stand there any longer, you turned the shower off, took a deep breath, and dried yourself with a towel. Your hair was not top priority right now, and honestly, why would you even bother anymore. Not that Dean would notice or care even if you shaved it all off. 

You were so wrapped up in your own blind heartache that you didn’t see him standing in the hallway in front of the bathroom door until you ran headfirst into his chest. You staggered backwards as two strong hands grabbed each side of your shoulders to steady you. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” you mumble, shrugging his hands off of your body. You tried to make your way around him, but he quickly stepped in front of you, blocking your way. 

“Hey, listen, I want to talk to you,” he said with a low voice that normally would have made you melt, but right now, you couldn't even make eye contact with him because of the fear that the water works would start again, or that he would still look as angry as he did in the car. 

“Dean, I’m really tired, I just want to go lay down, can we talk later?”

Shoving past him hard enough to make him stumble backwards out of your way, you stalked towards your room and shut the door as fast as you could, hoping that he’d just give up on yelling at you  and would just go away. 

Three loud pounds on your door told you that you weren’t going to be so lucky.

“Y/N, please let me in,” his muffled voice begged through the door. 

You said nothing, just pulled the covers over you and hoped that if you didn’t answer he’d leave without saying anything else.

“I can pick a lock you know!” 

You honestly hadn’t thought that far ahead. You shot a narrow-eyed glare at the door as if he could see through it, before you heard the distinct sounds of the lock being picked. 

That was one of the cons of living with a couple of hunters, no privacy. 

What was left of your heart stood still as the door to your room opened, and then closed. The sound of heavy footsteps making their way to your bed and the dip in your bed letting you know there was no way you were getting out of this. 

“Y/N, listen. I was too hard on you back there. I’m sorry. You’re not a bad hunter, you’re not a liability, you’re not stupid or a bitch. I was afraid that you could have really gotten hurt tonight, and I blew up unnecessarily. I was wrong for that, and I’m sorry.”

His voice was soft and quiet, so contradictory to what it had been in the car, but you didn’t have the guts to turn around to see if he still had that same look on his face as he did before. 

“S’Okay, Dean, I fucked up. I shouldn’t have put Sam or myself in jeopardy. It won't happen again, no need to apologize.”

For just a moment the room became deathly silent and you wondered if he’d just get up and leave, but he didn’t. Dean was never a big talker, and you were already surprised he was saying as much as he did, even though you knew Sam had probably put him up to it.

“So, um, I’m gonna go make some burgers, wanna join me?” He asked.

You just shook your head against the pillows, wiping the stray tears on the pillow beneath your head to keep him from seeing them. His words were still ringing so loud in your head that it was all you could hear. Just a loop repeating over and over again. 

“You’ve got to eat something Y/N. Come on, let me fix you something to eat, you haven’t really eaten anything all day.”

Way deep down, the sassy part of you wanted to scream the question, “Is that an order?” Still, you kept your mouth shut, not wanting to enrage him while he was being nice to you. 

“Dean, please, I’m not hungry, just… Go away, go find some girl to fuck at that strip joint up the road and blow off some steam.”

The words came out harsher than you meant to, and you could have swore you felt him flinch next to you. 

A dark chuckle left his lips that had you turning around and looking at him in spite of yourself. How could he even find that funny? When you turned around you found no humor in his hard features. 

“Why won't people let that shit go?” He asked you seriously, and for a moment it threw you off, red rimmed eyes and all, you sat up in your bed and faced him fully.

His face searched yours as he took in the state that you were in and his handsome features fell even further, so much guilt hanging in the air around him that it made you a little sick. This was the vulnerable side of Dean you had never seen before. If you were being honest, you didn’t even know how to handle it. 

“Dean, I don’t understand,” you told him as you watched his eyes glance over you, keeping his distance at the foot of the bed. 

“I mean, yeah, I went through a lot of women when I was younger. I was a hunter, didn’t need any attachments. It was a way to feel something other than the bullshit I was dealing with at the time.” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, and closed his eyes almost like he wished he could will away the memories you couldn’t see. 

Dean had a dark past and you knew that. You never really saw it manifest until tonight. 

“I know it wasn’t healthy, but what hunter ever dealt with anything properly? I haven’t done anything like that in years, but here you are, and there Sam was just about 15 minutes ago, still throwing it in my face.” 

Dean stood, and slowly made his way towards the door, his broad shoulders slumping slightly as he went and it made your heart clench. 

“Dean,” you tried, but he just shook his head as he grabbed the door and opened it slowly. 

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’m poison and it’s best that people think I’m a shitty human, maybe then you and everyone else I care about will be safe.”

Turning to face you with his hand still on the door, he gave you a look more haunted than anything you’d ever faced, fought, or killed. The small smirk pulled at his lips, not quite reaching his pale green eyes as he stared into your soul.

“I wish you could have met me before I became this way. Maybe then you wouldn’t hate me. Even though I can’t blame you, I can tell you that you will never hate me as much as I hate myself.”

You were on your feet before you had even thought about moving and grabbed his hand in yours to stop him from leaving. When he turned to you, you could see it then. The scared little boy that was still buried not so deep under the toughened surface. The one that had to see, live through, and deal with more than you knew you will ever in your lifetime, and carried more scars than you will ever be able to understand. 

“I don’t hate you Dean, I never have. I thought you hated me.”

Dean’s face fell even further, which you didn't know how that was possible, and his eyes hesitantly met your own, his teeth sinking into his lip hard enough that they were turning white before he finally spoke. 

“I don’t hate you sweetheart, I never have. I’m scared of what you make me feel, I’m scared that I will lose you, I’m scared… I’m scared of a lot of things.”

You were so relieved to find out that he didn’t absolutely detest you, that you pulled him into you with such force that it closed the door he’d had open, which led to him push a huff of air out of his lungs that he’d apparently been holding. 

“I don’t care that you’re poison Dean, I’m not going anywhere.”

For a long time the two of you just stood there, arms wrapped tightly around each other as if you could fix all of the broken pieces in your souls. Even though it wouldn’t all be okay tonight, even though Dean would crawl back in his shell of protection and hide from his emotions, even though no one would say it this this eventful night, you could see that he loved you just as much as you loved him… He was just afraid. 

Tonight, he’d spend the night with you in his arms, and in the morning, you’d share a lingering glance in the kitchen, maybe a passing touch, and that would be enough. Whenever he was ready, you’d still be there waiting for him, because even though he never said it with words, his body and soul cried out for the love he’d never been allowed to have before, and it told you all you needed to know.

He didn’t have to scream it to tell you, actions were always louder than words, and it was time for once in your life to do as you're told, and wait for your hero to come back to you. To let you make this homeless, broken man a home of your own. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how long you’d have to wait. You’d do it and do it gladly.

So even though there would be no dramatic declarations of love, no great, mind blowing sex just right now, and the wounds that words created would not get miraculously healed, you’d both take a shaky step together in the right direction. 

A little bit at a time, step by step, you’d get him to open up to you, but tonight, 'I’ll wait for you' will be enough.

Forever Tags: @deanmonandnegansbitch @hayleeharling @flamencodiva @coldmuffinbanditshoe  @dirty-pan-goblin @itmejado @supernatural3002 @teresa-67 @thoughts-and-funnies @hearteyes-j2 @deanwanddamons @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner  @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester @idksupernatural @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl @love-jackles-37-blog @miraclesoflove @emoryhemsworth @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel @softsebastian @tatted-trina6

A/N 2: sorry if your tags didn’t work guys! Tumblr is being an ass!

#chans500followerchallenge #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean fanficiton #dean fanfic #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester drabble #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn one shot #jawritter #jensen ackles #x reader inserts #i'll wait for you

[jensenswinchester]

The Thought of Losing You

Summary: This is my spin on 14.02 (Gods and Monsters) and 14.11 (Damaged Goods). 

Prompt: “The thought of losing you scares the shit out of me.”

Pairing: Dean x Female!Reader

Warnings: Season 14 spoilers. Lots of profanity, lots of angst, dollop of fluff.

Word Count: 5,315

A/N: This is my entry for Sabrina @winchesterxfamilybusiness​‘s 250 Followers Writing Challenge! This was my first time writing for Supernatural and ever posting anything I’ve ever written. I hope you like it!

Y/N knew she wasn’t supposed to fall in love with Dean Winchester, but her brain and her heart weren’t exactly on the same page.

There were only so many times she could watch the man she loved and idolized sacrifice himself as if his own life was meaningless. Every time she lost Dean, the pain became more and more unbearable. She grew up alongside the Winchesters, her grandfather being one of the men John Winchester learned his tricks and skills from when he was younger. His dying wish was for John to protect her, and when he passed years later, that duty was passed down to Sam and Dean. The pair didn’t mind, she was family to them. Sam liked being a big brother to someone for a change, and Dean welcomed the days when she would spend time with them so he had someone other than Sam to hang out with. 

It was safe to say Y/N had been there through everything. She was there when Sam died and when Dean made the crossroads deal. She was there when the hellhounds dragged him to hell and when he made his miraculous return months later. She watched the Mark of Cain change him in ways she never imagined, and then hid from his demon alter-ego when he tried to kill her and Sam in the bunker. 

The point is, she was there for every high and low, and she wasn’t sure she had the capacity to handle another low.

In the most cliche turn of events, Y/N developed feelings for the older brother over time. How could she not? He looked after her more than her own father the majority of the time. She idolized him from a young age, thought he was so cool, felt the most at ease around him. Dean was always there and Y/N had no choice but to fall for him, and hard. Of course, in another cliche fashion, she couldn’t dare tell him. He was her best friend and he certainly could do better than what she had to offer. 

The most recent predicament was Michael, the Archangel from another universe who wormed his way into their world with Lucifer. Selfishly, Y/N was relieved when their world’s Michael stopped trying to convince Dean to be his vessel and the angels stopped pursuing him, though she felt bad for Adam. She never imagined she’d find herself in this situation: Dean, saying yes to this new Michael, in order to save his brother and Jack from Lucifer.

Dean dismissed her when he sent Bobby and Mary to the garage. She begged him to let her stay, to let her help, and of course not to do anything stupid, but Bobby pulled her away as soon as Dean’s jaw clenched and that look crossed his handsome face. Usually she could win, that look would fade and he’d be putty in her hands. In that moment, she was scared of him, because the look resembled the murderous glare his demon self threw her way seconds before narrowly missing her with that forsaken hammer.

When Sam and Jack returned to the bunker without Dean, Y/N’s heart stopped and her breath hitched in her chest, a clockwork reaction any time something terrible happened to him. 

“N-no,” she whimpered, looking at Sam through blurry eyes as the tears threatened to fall.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered, finding it hard to watch her break over his brother yet again. “Michael…he tricked him and…”

“He disappeared,” Jack sighed. The room began to spin as the dizziness washed over Y/N. She fumbled in place, clutching the back of the chair in front of her at the war table, Sam rushing to her side and gathering her into his arms. 

“We’re gonna find him honey,” he whispered, though he wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure himself or her. He squeezed her tighter as she sobbed into his flannel, wishing he could do more. He wasn’t Dean, he didn’t have the same connection with her as his brother did, and he hated that there was nothing more he could do for her. 

That was almost two months ago.

Over the last nearly eight weeks, Y/N battled between wanting to go out and look for Dean and succumbing to the intense sadness and anxiety over the loss of the older Winchester. She knew she should be out there looking for him, helping Sam, Mary and Bobby. She wasn’t sleeping, and when she did she was plagued with dreams of Michael torturing Dean, because that was all she could think about during the day. She snapped at Jack when she overhead him talking to Castiel in the kitchen during one of the few times she left her room for food. As soon as she heard the words “Dean doesn’t matter” leave the nephilim’s lips, she was at his throat.

“How dare you,” she began, her voice low and shaking as the anger pulsated through her veins. “How dare you say that, considering you wouldn’t fucking be here if not for Dean. He’s done nothing but protect you and give you a home, and you go and say he doesn’t matter? That is his body. He is a prisoner in his own body. He’s trapped in there-“

“Y/N-“ Castiel started. Y/N whipped her head around, glowering at the vessel before her.

“NO, Cas. What he said was un-fucking-called for.” She turned back to the nephilim, disappointment and anger evident on her face. “Look, kid. The world would not be the way it is right now if not for Dean fucking Winchester. He may not matter to you, but he sure as hell matters to me.”

Since then, Jack kept his distance. He never saw Y/N as upset as she was in that moment, and he still didn’t understand why she was so mad at him, because in his mind, he was right. Michael was the enemy, Michael needed to go, Dean be damned.

Sam was growing more and more concerned for Y/N as time went on without any sign of Dean. He knew she wasn’t sleeping, having been the one to wake her from her nightmares and stay with her until she drifted back into a restless sleep, if her mind even allowed it.

“You don’t have to stay with me,” she mumbled one morning when Sam brought her a mug of tea. “I know you want to be out looking for him.”

“I’m leaving in a little bit, do you want to try and come with me?” She shook her head, her eyes again welling up with tears. How she had any left was beyond her. “Its okay, honey. You should try and rest anyway. You’ve had a rough few weeks-“

“But I’m a hunter, Sam. I know better than to act like this. I should be out there looking for him, he’d do the same if it was me-“

“You may be a hunter, but that doesn’t mean you’re not human, Y/N/N. You still have feelings, emotions, and we both know you have very…specific feelings towards Dean. This wasn’t a hunt gone wrong, Dean is missing and you’re hurting because you love him. What you’re feeling, what you’ve been feeling, that’s heartbreak. It’s crippling and it’s brutal and until he’s back, it’s not gonna go away.”

“What if he doesn’t come back Sam?” She hated how small her voice sounded, she couldn’t even deny her feelings to his face. At this rate, every additional body in the bunker had to know she was in love with Dean.

“He’s Dean. He’s died, been dragged to hell…he’s not gonna let some dick angel keep him away from us.” Y/N nodded weakly. “Are you going to tell him?”

“Sam-“

“You have to tell him, Y/N. He has a right to know, he needs to know, maybe then he’d stop sacrificing himself-“

“Your brother wouldn’t know what to do with himself-“

“True, but he’d be happy, with you. He adores you. He deserves to be happy.” Y/N tilted her head to the side, eyebrows cocked. “You know I’m right.”

“We’ll see.”

Sam sighed, pecking her forehead before getting off the bed. “I’m gonna head out, you need anything, you call, yes?” She nodded. “Be good, no yelling at any nephilims today.”

“He deserved it-“

“I know.”

One of the things Y/N wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to was the amount of people now residing in the bunker since coming from the other world. She missed the peace and quiet, but she was extra thankful that her bedroom, like Dean’s, was tucked away from the action. Sure, the bunker was large enough to accommodate the newcomers, and they were all quickly catching on as new hunters, but she longed for the days when the bunker was more of a secret hideaway, not a community center.

In the time Dean was gone, Y/N treated his room like the West Wing. She made sure no one besides herself or Sam ever went in, on the days she got out of bed anyway. Her room was down the hall from his, and since the hallway was generally empty, she could immediately hear when someone was entering his room. The door had a slight creak when it pushed open slowly enough, but Dean insisted he liked it. It sounded “homey.” So when she heard that familiar creak and knew Sam wasn’t home yet, her body was out of her bed and moving down the hall before her mind could register she was even upright. Her feet carried her to the door with the pretty golden eleven, finding it open. She felt her blood run cold as she stepped over the threshold of the room, ready to deliver a verbal beating to whoever dared enter this room of all rooms, before her breath hitched in her chest and she found herself staring at the back of the man she was waiting for.

“D-Dean?”

His shoulders visibly relaxed at the sound of her voice and he turned around, his olive eyes welling up with tears as he took in the sight of her. She was clutching the doorway, her body swimming in his red flannel, dark circles under her pretty eyes as she choked out a sob upon seeing him before her.

“Hi sweetheart,” he whispered, opening his arms as she flung herself forward, crashing against his chest. Her body again shook with sobs as she clutched at the white dress shirt adorning his shoulders, her face buried into the middle of his chest. His arms wrapped around her as he struggled between squeezing her against him and holding her fragile body against his own. Her sobs were muffled screams and he cringed, hating that once again he was the reason she was breaking this badly. He finally allowed his tears to flow and soon he was crying into her hair while trying to calm her down.

“You miss me?” He asked some moments later once her breathing returned to normal and her body stopped shaking.

“No,” she weakly deadpanned, still morphed into his chest. His fingers danced up and down her spine in gentle patterns as he chuckled, placing a kiss to the top of her head. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know, he just…left.”

“He better fucking stay gone,” she growled, “or at least find a new vessel. Got a few ideas.” Dean laughed softly and she pulled back to look up at him, raising her eyebrows. “You think I’m joking?”

“No ma’am.” 

She glared at the term, her eyes growing wide. “Why didn’t Sam call me to tell me he found you?”

“Surprise?” He grinned sheepishly. “He said you were probably resting and didn’t want to wake you. He…he told me how you’ve been the last few weeks and sweetheart, I’m not upset. I’m upset at how much of a toll this took on you but I’m not upset that you weren’t looking for me.”

“I’m sorry Dean, I wanted to-“

“I know, Y/N. You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I understand. You were struggling, I couldn’t expect you to push yourself.”

She looked down, still feeling embarrassed over the situation. “I’m sorry for barging in, too. I thought someone was in here that wasn’t you and I got so upset-“

“It’s okay,” he smiled, “I half expected you to be in here waiting for me.”

She blushed and Dean grinned, hugging her to him again. “You probably want some alone time, I should let you get settled in but I really don’t feel like leaving your side at the moment.”

“I’m gonna take a quick shower and I’ll be right back, okay? Promise.” His green eyes were boring into her own, his words serious as the rolled off his tongue. She nodded and he smiled gently, kissing her head again before grabbing his clothes and heading down the hall towards the large communal bathroom.

While Y/N waited, Dean let the hot water run down his tired body, scrubbing his skin raw as he tried to get any trace of the Archangel off of him. He didn’t understand why Michael suddenly left the way he did, but he wasn’t about to get his hopes up that he had seen the last of the celestial being. He stood under the water as his own tears of frustration fell from his eyes. He was angry that he was taken advantage of, tricked into being the vessel for more than he bargained for. He hated feeling like a prisoner in his own body, own mind, not knowing exactly what was going on around him as Michael took control. He missed his brother, his girl, even if she wasn’t officially his. Y/N was everything to him, and after some convincing on his part, Sam revealed that he was everything to her as well. It happened on the drive home when he realized she wasn’t with Sam, and he immediately panicked thinking something had happened to her.

“She’s at the bunker, Dean. She…she hasn’t been doing well.”

“What’s wrong with her?” He breathed, his body going rigged on the passenger’s side of the bench seat.

“She’s just been taking your…disappearance the hardest out of everyone. She doesn’t sleep, she barely eats, she bit Jack’s head off.”

“What did he do?” Sam didn’t want to repeat the words Jack had uttered, because in truth, they pissed him off as well. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words and cause Dean more hurt, he carried enough pain already.

“He said something she didn’t like, honestly he deserved it. She was defending you.” Dean blushed softly, picturing Y/N turning into the spitfire she could be, all because of him. “You know Dean…”

Dean looked at his brother, confused, “Sammy?”

“I shouldn’t,” Sam stopped himself, knowing he was about to break Y/N’s trust.

“You already started.”

“It wouldn’t be fair to Y/N.”

“I won’t say anything, just tell me.”

“She…the reason she was so bad the last few weeks, is because she loves you. Has feelings for you. And you being gone, not knowing where you were, it visibly was destroying her.”

Dean’s eyes widened and his heartbeat sped up in his chest. “She can’t-“

“Why not? Haven’t you seen the way she looks at you, man? She looks at you like you hung the damn moon for her.”

Dean shook his head. “Loving me comes with a price, one she shouldn’t have to pay. It puts a target on her back and she doesn’t deserve that.”

“Dean, it’s pretty obvious you feel the same way she does, you’re being ridiculous. She makes you happy, man. You deserve something good, and Y/N is good.”

Dean wasn’t going to act on this new information, not until he knew Michael was done with him, for good. He couldn’t stomach Y/N hurting over him anymore. Once he knew Michael didn’t have a use for him any longer, he could approach her about the mutual feelings between them. Of course Dean reciprocated them. How could he not? Y/N was beautiful, funny, intelligent. She was everything he could hope for, plopped into his life all those years ago. He raised her to be the third best hunter in the world. She was perfect for him, but he couldn’t put her in danger by simply loving her back.

For a little while, things seemed to be looking up, which was consequently never a good sign when it came to the Winchesters. Just when they thought Michael was possibly out of their lives, he snuck back in and invaded Dean’s personal space all over again. With help from Sam, Y/N and Cas, he was able to take control and lock Michael away in his mind. The problem was, Dean felt like there was a toddler banging on a drum set living in his head. Michael was constantly making a racket, leaving Dean with a perpetual headache while he tried to block out Michael’s incessant demands to be let out of the “cage” Dean locked him away in. It was during this time that Dean made the painful decision to never act on his feelings for Y/N. He wasn’t sure how long he’d survive with Michael taking up residency in his mind, nor did he have any way of knowing that Michael wouldn’t hurt her. 

Sam and Y/N became suspicious when Dean decided he wanted to visit Mary, alone. Since being back, Dean rarely had alone time, though if he was being honest, he didn’t mind at all. In fact, he welcomed the company. Company kept his mind off the tenant upstairs. He spent most of his time resting before Sam decided he could go back out on hunts, and resting usually meant cuddling with Y/N and watching copious amount of Netflix. He was struggling, but he wanted to make sure she was okay as well.

Y/N was reluctant to let Dean go visit Mary alone. When she expressed her concerns for the older Winchester to Sam, Sam agreed that something wasn’t right and the pair decided to make their own drive to Donna’s cabin. 

Which is how Sam and Y/N found themselves standing across from Dean in Donna’s shed, an ominous metal coffin of sorts on the workbench before them.

“What the hell is this?” Y/N asked, her eyes fixed on Dean.

“This is how I’m going to get rid of Michael,” Dean explained, failing to make eye contact in return.

“This isn’t what I think it is,” Sam glowered, beginning to understand what his brother was getting at.

“Someone better explain what the hell this is,” Y/N urged, agitated.

“This is a Ma’lak Box,” Dean began, Sam sighing in anger. “It’s warded to keep an angel inside…including an Archangel.”

“Okay…so how are you gonna get Michael into the box?” Y/N asked, oblivious to the elephant that was in the shed.

“Michael is…inside me. In order to get Michael into the box, I have to get in,” Dean muttered.

“NO!”

“Its the only way-“ 

“BULLSHIT. There is ALWAYS another way!”

“NO THERE ISN’T,” Dean yelled back, “I can feel him breaking free. I can’t hold him much longer, this is the only way, Billie showed me-“

“Dean, we can figure this out. There has to be something else,” Sam tried to reason with his brother. “What happens when you’re in?”

“The plan is to be dropped into the Pacific and buried-“

“The fuck you will,” Y/N seethed. “NO. You’re not doing this.”

“This is why I didn’t tell either of you, you’re the only ones who could try and talk me out of it.”

“So you were just going to disappear again? Be buried alive without a goodbye? Expect us to be okay with this?” Sam was amazed at how dense Dean could be sometimes.

“I said my goodbyes back at the bunker,” Dean sighed. Y/N was staring at him in horror, still trying to process that once again, she’d be losing Dean, but this time for good. Dean looked at her and cringed. “Please say something.”

“You stupid son of a bitch,” she fumed. “You’re so hellbent on sacrificing your own life for the greater fucking good because you’re convinced your life doesn’t mean anything. Well guess what! Your life may not mean something to you but it means everything to me. You don’t have to do this, we can find another way. Fuck what Billie has to say, there is no way this ends with you buried at the bottom of the fucking ocean.”

“I have to do this-“

“No, you don’t,” Sam argued. “We can find something else Dean, anything else, something that keeps you alive, with us.”

“Do you think I want to do this? To either of you? I HAVE to do this. I don’t have a choice-“

“YOU ALWAYS HAVE A CHOICE. YOU TAUGHT ME THAT,” Y/N screamed, the anger simmering under her skin.

“Look, I’m not exactly looking forward to this, okay? I’ve made up my mind, you both need to accept it.”

“We…we have to accept it? Accept that you’re going to be buried in this…this box…with a murderous archangel hitching a ride in your head? Are you out of your mind?” Y/N was amazed at how Dean was so calm about this. “You expect Sam to just let you go? I clearly don’t mean enough to you for you NOT to do this but at least think of your brother.”

“You know that’s not true,” Dean groaned.

“Could’ve fooled me,” she spat, rolling her eyes.

“This won’t solve anything,” Sam barked, shooting a glare to both of them. “You’re not getting in the box, we’ll figure something else out but right now, this discussion is over.”

“You think this is up for debate, Sammy? It’s not-“

“I said, this discussion is over. We will have this conversation when we get home, when we can get Jack and Cas’ input-“

“Oh yeah, let’s clue the nephilim in to the plan,” Y/N snarled, “after all, Dean matters oh so much to him anyway.”

“Excuse me?” Dean glared.

“Forget it,” she mumbled, “I need some air.” She turned on her heel and left the shed, the sight of the box now making her stomach turn. She made her way back to the cabin, hiding around the back out of sight before she allowed herself to slide down the wall into a fit of angry tears. Dean was going to leave her, again, and this time he couldn’t come back. How was she ever going to live with that? Knowing he was at the bottom of the ocean, alone in a box with an Archangel to torment him for the rest of his days? How could she possibly move on from that?

Back in the shed, Sam was pacing. “You’re not doing this,” he decided, pausing his movements to look at his brother. “You can’t do this. Not to me, not to her, not to Mom-“

“I’m doing it to protect you, all of you,” Dean argued. “If I lock Michael away, he can’t hurt any of you or cause more damage to anyone else.”

“This will kill her,” Sam warned, his voice quieter now. “Dean, you can’t-“

“This is what’s best. This is my decision and I’m sticking to it.”

Y/N decided against the wall of Donna’s cabin that she was done. She reached the end of her rope, her patience run bone dry. If Dean wasn’t going to listen to any voices of reason, she was going to make damn sure she would be okay. She could ask Rowena for a spell, something to make her forget she ever loved Dean Winchester. She refused to be a broken shell all over again because he left her, this time willingly. She would take care of herself the way he taught her to.

She emerged from behind the cabin to find the brothers walking out of the shed, Sam looking visibly distraught as he watched Dean head towards the cabin. Dean’s gaze fell on her but she refused to meet his eyes. If she was going to take care of herself, step one was creating distance, putting an end to the bond between them. Dean moved to walk towards her and she stepped back, eyes still on anything but him.  He stopped in his tracks, shoulders falling before he straightened up again, refusing to show any weakness over his decision.

The ride back to the bunker was silent. Y/N wasn’t speaking to either brother, but if she had to, she spoke to Sam. Dean was trying to ignore how hurt he was, but he had to remind himself that this was for the best. He thought she could understand that.

A few days went by and Y/N was avoiding Dean as much as humanly possible. When Sam received word of Donatello, she decided to hang back and make sure the new hunters had a leader while the brothers were out taking care of business. Sam didn’t argue with her, knowing she needed her space from his brother.

When they arrived back in the safety of the bunker, days later, Y/N retreated to her room, going through her things and removing anything of Dean’s from her drawers. She wanted to do it when they first got back from the cabin retreat, but her body physically wouldn’t let her, not yet. Any flannels, shirts, anything she ever wore of his was going back to his room. She didn’t want anything of his around to remind her of him later. She carried the few shirts to his room, barging in and dumping them on his bed.

“What are you doing?” he asked, staring at the pile before him.

“Don’t want them anymore. They’ll just remind me of you when you’re gone, you know, buried and all.”

Dean winced at her words. Reality was starting to sink in, that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t such a good idea, not if it meant a rift between him and his best girl. “Y/N please, we need to talk about this-“

“I think you’ve said enough.”

“I can’t have you hating me, sweetheart. I can’t lose you, not yet. The thought of losing you scares the shit out of me-“

“Don’t you dare fucking say that to me,” she whispered, sounding much less menacing than she wanted to. “Not when I’m the one constantly losing you.” Dean felt his heart break in his chest as he looked at her, seeing all the pain he’d caused her evident on her pretty face. “And I should be used to it by now, but I’m not.” She looked down at the floor, staring at the marbled tile beneath her feet. “Maybe this is my fault-“

“Y/N no, how-“

“Maybe if I told you the truth you’d change your mind. Told you I loved you, more than I’ve ever loved anyone, maybe then you’d want to stay and find another way.”

“I know,” he breathed. “I know you do.”

Her eyes widened and she looked up at him, her cheeks flushing. “You what?”

“I know how you feel about me,” he murmured. “Sam…I forced it out of him when we drove home after he found me. He was so worried about you and he started to let it slip but I forced him to tell me.”

“So…so you know…that…and you still want to…” her voice trailed off, her words failing her as she stared helplessly at him. 

“I was doing it because of that.” He watched her cringe before he realized his mistake. “Oh God, not like that! I mean, I was doing it because I love you, just as much, but I need to protect you from Michael. I told myself I wouldn’t do anything about this…us…until he was gone, but I don’t know when that will be or if it ever will be. I can’t let you get hurt because of me, not like this. I can’t put that target on you.”

“Dean…I know you think it’s your life’s mission to protect everyone, because John gave you that order to protect Sam, but sacrificing yourself? He’d also want you to live, Dean. You deserve everything good this fucked up world has to offer, Dean Winchester. You think your life means so much less than anyone else’s but that’s not true. You’re so important, Dean. Sam and I wouldn’t be here without you. You’ve saved so many lives, changed so many lives. You think you’re this monster of a man who doesn’t deserve happiness when that’s all you’ve ever deserved. You’ve spent your entire life caring for everyone else and making sure everyone else was okay, but right now, you’re not okay, and you need to let me and Sam take care of you. Let us help you find another way, please Dean.” By now tears were rolling down her cheeks the same way they were rolling down Dean’s. “I have watched you overcome and survive incredible feats. I’ve admired your courage and your strength for as long as I can remember. Please don’t stop fighting now, not yet. You have so much more left to do in this world, Dean. Some dick angel from another world is not going to be how I lose you. The world is better with you in it, MY world is better with you in it.”

Dean’s silent tears turned to choked out sobs as he took in her words. This wasn’t the first time she had to remind him of the good in him, and he hoped it wouldn’t be the last. Sam had already gotten to him before they drove home and made him see that there could be another way, that he couldn’t give up, that wasn’t what the Winchesters did. 

“Oh Dean,” she whispered, enveloping him in her arms as he cried, his face buried against her shoulder. She rubbed his back softly as she cried with him, his arms wrapping around her tightly, scared of letting her go.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, “I’m sorry you’re constantly getting hurt by me-“

“No. It is not your fault. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I’m not doing it,” he whispered, his breath hot against her neck. “Sammy…he helped me see how wrong I was…and you…I can’t leave you. Not like that. I love you so much, sweetheart, I’m so sorry for putting you through that-“

“Dean Winchester, if you ever try to pull something like that again…”

“I know,” he nodded. “I’m so sorry baby. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“How?” She asked, Dean lifting his head from her shoulder.

“I don’t know, but I’ll spend the rest of my life figuring it out.”

Y/N blushed, fighting the grin that was spreading across her lips. “You could start with a kiss.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” he chuckled, cupping her cheeks in his hand and wiping the remaining tear drops away with his thumbs. He looked into her eyes, watching the way they sparkled as they stared back into his own. He smiled, leaning down to softly connect his lips with hers. She all but cried as she moved her lips with his, her arms wrapping back around his middle.

“Sammy was right,” he chuckled once he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers.

“About what?”

Dean smirked, “You really do look at me like I hung the moon.”

“Oh bite me, Winchester.”

#MakeMeSwoon #Sabrina's 250 Followers Writing Challenge #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #spn fic #supernatural flangst #dean flangst #dean fluff #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester flangst

[tokoyamisstuff]

Betrothed Ch. 10 - Illumi Zoldyck x Reader

Chapter 10: Bewilderment

Summary: What is Illumi doing while you are searching for him?

Warnings: Violence, murder, angst.

Words: ~1900

A/N: Sorry for taking so long guys, I recently have little time left to write.

Story Masterlist

“No one is more dangerous than the insane which is calm all the time: he is like a steel bridge without flexibility, and the order of his life is rigid and brittle.  A minor change can cause the functioning madman to collapse.”

There was no time to grieve.

After you had put an end to the puppet that took after your beloved husband, Okogame revealed that he in fact had cloned the entire Phantom Troupe as well.

Gladly, and much to your surprise, the spiders cleaned their own mess and assisted you and your friends in getting rid of the remaining puppets.

And ultimatively, Pretz was the one to put an end to her brother’s wrongdoings, ending both of their suffering as well.

Their deaths left you with a bitter aftertaste: Was there really no other way to end one’s madness? There had to be another way!

Kurapika had run out of strenght, which was only fortunate since him collapsing was the only thing keeping him from recklessly challenging the spiders.

So all of you stood in front of the burning chapel, only able to watch as Okogame’s sins were cleansed through the fire.

What would it take to free Illumi from the curse that was his own mind?

“Not so fast” you gnarled while your friends were still distracted by the tragic view. “Hisoka. We need to talk.”

The mage was already about to leave, yet acting all innocent. “Oh? Who do we got here? The happy bride...”

“Don’t play stupid.” Trying to act intimidating, you built yourself up in front of the much taller man. "You’re what comes closest to being a friend for him, so you must know where he is. Tell me!”

“It’s so long since we’ve first met at the Hunter Exam...” Hisoka chuckled quite amused, licking the blood from one of his playing cards. “I didn’t even know you had relationship problems.”

“Big understatement.” Hisoka’s carefree manner had gotten to you vfrom the very first moment, you had to admit. He almost managed to make you crack a smile.

“You seem to have gotten quite the control over your husband, so I thought our next meeting would be under...different circumstances. Maybe getting a drink together or even murder someone.”

“I don’t have time for your bullshit.” His eyes widened in pleasant surprise, a strangled moan escaping his throat as your knife threatened his neck. “Where. Is. He?!?”

“Oh, my...you’ve sure grown strong. Is that Illumi’s influence?”

“Yes. It is” you smiled confidently, putting the blade down again. “We may fight one day, but this is not the time.”

“Promise?” Hisoka was almost aroused at your words, imagining you and Illumi both challenging him at the same time.

“Whatever.”

“Well...” he waved the card in the air, putting it to his lips as if he was in deep thought. “He didn’t contact me, but word spreads fast. There’s a rumor about a mass murderer in Yorknew City. His only targets are assassins and other criminals. Isn’t that a coincidence?”

Your eyes immediately widened, heart painfully hammering against your chest as you imagined that he escaped his family, yet kept on taking lives.

“Lumi...”

At the same time, on the other side of the ocean, Illumi was wandering a dark alley in the poor district of Yorknew City.

Usually, he wasn’t able to dream in years, or at least it was insignitifant enough to instantly forget about it - yet ever since he had left you and his home, nightmares occured daily: 

Most of the time it were especially cruel things he did on his missions, or murders he performed solely out of his own, twisted desire. Sometimes it were flashbacks about his childhood, which he actually thought to have forgotten about a long time ago.

It all re-emerged now, robbing his sleep - the last thing to keep together the fraction of his sanity.

More than often, he’d dream about you too, of course.

But you’d always only be running away from him, deeply sfrightened. And every time he reached you, without having the intention, his blood-stained hands ended your life as well, leaving him to scream and cry for his precious Y/N.

How were you doing these days, he wondered?

His conscience was calling out to him ever since he had abandoned and left you alone with his family. This wasn’t like him to act without thinking things through.

But he did, and he won’t be able to change the consequences.

“Y/N is strong. Any my family doesn’t have any use for them. They’ll be okay...”

Suddenly, a noise drang to Illumi’s sharpened senses: A weak voice, barely audible, pleading for anyone to hear.

Illumi’s feet moved on their own - maybe because of curiosity, but who knows. And only a few blocks away he found the surce of the voice: It was a stray cat, way smaller than the usual ones, due to malnutrition.

Your husband was merely a bystander, watching a man yelling at the animal that of course couldn’t respond. How odd.

“Fucking thing!” the man balled his fists, swinging them in the air. “Hey! You! Whaddaya looking at? That your cat?”

“No” was Illumi’s plain answer as he stepped into the dim street light, actually not wanting to bother himself with the situation.

“It better not be. Stole my fish at the market, and ruined the others with it’s dirty paws!”

Just when the man prepared to kick the poor animal with his boots, his leg seemed to have magically disappeared midair.

Before the amputated leg hit the ground, the merchant had already collapsed, screaming in agony as he slowly but surely bled to death.

“Here” Illumi spoke casually as he threw a piece of fabric towards the man. He always pitied his victims, at least a little bit. “Try binding off the stump to stop the bleeding. Maybe you’ll make it until an ambulance arrives.”

Already prepared to attend more important matters again, he turned around - but then he heared another, weak meow close behind.

The tiny cat couldn’t even hold itself on it’s feet, yet tried everything to follow your husband’s firm steps. It bit the fabric on his legs ever so slightly, trying to keep him from leaving so fast.

Letting out a small noise of surprise, Illumi crouched down the the cat’s heigh, eyeing it quie suspecting.

Because usually, animals were smarter than that. They had a natural instinct when it came to aura, so it was no wonder that Illumi’s constant hostility and bloodlust always drove them off - even though he actually was really fond of them.

They were easier to deal with than most humans, he thought.

The kitten was bleeding, and his left ear was slightly bitten off by another animal.

Even though it was quite the depressing view, this wouldn’t revoke any emotion inside of your husband. He had seen and did worse, and he had no affiliation with that thing.

“What would Y/N do?”

He remembered how you’d always bring home injured animals, talking about responsibility and how every life was precious somehow. That doing good deeds could make one happy without having an actual advantage from it.

To be honest, he thought it to be kind of hypocritical considering you were a goddamn assassin, but whatever.

Who was he to judge anyone’s morality anyway?

And the pet’s behaviour somehow intrigued him, so he carefully picked it up as he bid the merchant one last look.

“Oh. He died already.”

The Zoldyck family possessed safehouses all over the world, and in big cities like Yorknew City was one, several at once.

Only a few, chosen people knew about those certain locations - and since his family never really seemed to care for him anyway, he knew they wouldn’t be searching for him. And even if they wanted to find him, there was no clue where an erratic man like himself could’ve gone to, so they would take a while.

So it would be fine to use them until he had cleansed the city from all filth before he’d travel to another - even though that would take quite a while.

“Here” he mumbled, still quite unaffected by the animal’s condition as he put it down on the small sleeping cot.

There wasn’t anything else to do right now, so he could save that thing, he thought.

Trying hard to remember how you’d always patch him up, Ilumi got the first-aid kit out of the shelf and gathered a bowl of water. Only when he didn’t find anything to nurture the cat he realized that he himself hasn’t eaten in days.

“Y/N would be furious..” he thought, almost smiling while recalling how you’d always scold him for not taking care of himself enough. “Maybe I should buy some groceries.”

The cat was unusual still, considering hurt animals are more than often very defensive and on high alert. Yet that one let Illumi touch it all he wanted, even purring as he unconsciously began to pet it’s dirty but soft fur.

It was almost heartwarming to him, giving him a slight impression about what you liked so damn much about helping those weaker than yourself.

Yeah, animals were way easier to deal with.

They had no difficult emotions or morals, neither did they want you to understand them. All that was important was their natural needs, and shall you fullfill them, they’d get attached to you.

But humans were different.

Asides from his work, Illumi had spent a of his time and concentration on you and you alone. He had given you food and shelter, also basically drowning you in gifts and luxurity. And he would’ve died for your protection.

Of course it had also been his duty that you’d become a perfect assassin, yet he went very easy on you during training. In wild contrast to everything he had experienced himself, his touch was always tender and full of care.

Yes, he would’ve met every single one of your desires, and yet you were unfullfilled.

Animals seeked freedom. They don’t like being locked in cages.

Was that it?

Were you feeling the same after being locked away for such a long time, like some sort of trophy?

He just now realized that you had always listened to him: His feelings, his past, his commands...but did he ever do the same for you?

Before, just like Hisoka, Illumi was a man of the present: He would’ve never looked back. The past wasn’t worth remembering, even faces of the people he killed vanishing from his inner eye just barely after he finished them off.

And the future? He’d never thought of that.

Illumi Zoldyck was merely a tool of darkness, working with a ruthless efficiency to ensure his place in the family.

He was numb and served no other purpose...right?

But now he had an own goal: Cleanse the world from the profession of those filthy assassins - so no one would’ve to suffer as you or his siblings did.

“Oh.”

Your husband pulled his hand away after the cat softly dug it’s teeth inside of his index finger. He probably accidentally hurt it. “Sorry.”

At least he had someone to talk to, now. You knew best just how often he would rant to himself or think out loudly - and he had to remember how you told him that only very lonely people would do that, because no one has ever listened to them.

“I always told Kill he doesn’t have the qualification to make friends, but in the end it was only me...”

Illumi didn’t even bother washing the blood from today’s work from his hands, falling on the bed with his back first and staring to the bare ceiling with a broken smile.

“Moreso...I don’t deserve to be loved. I really am the worst.”

_____

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Feedback is always appreciated!

#Illumi Zoldyck #HxH #Illumi x Reader #Illumi Zoldyck x Reader #Illumi x You #Illumi Zoldyck x You #Illumi/Reader #Illumi/You #Illumi Zoldyck/Reader #Illumi Zoldyck/You #Writing #Arranged Marriage AU #Canon Divergence #Self Insert #Fanfiction

[maos2013]

So @aosrecweek​ is doing this Best of 2020 challenge and I wanted to join in! Basically, you post however many works of your own that you are proud of this year, and then recommend the same amount of works done by others! (Click here for more info on the @aosrecweek​ blog). 

It’s worth noting that there are SO many more amazing works out there by my friends that I know I’m forgetting. These few are ones that have stuck with me for various reasons, and just know if you didn’t make this short rec list, I love you so much and appreciate your contributions to the fandom! <3

So without further ado, let me tell you what works I enjoyed in 2020!

My works from the year that I loved (in no particular order):

Farewell for a While - Rated G - Daisy revisits her loss of Coulson, her loss of May, and the events that lead them both back to her in the end. I’m proud of this one because I wrote it on my phone in about an hour at midnight one night after a random stroke of inspiration. That may not be a big deal to some of you, but it is for me. :)

I Took You for Granted - Rated G - May is supposedly an unfeeling kill bot. Daisy and Sousa don’t buy it. This one makes me happy because Mama May and Daisy feels while Daisy is in the healing chamber.  🥺

It’s Only a Matter of Time - Rated G - Major Character Death - The team is split up through the decades in my alternate take on season 7. (Ok, this might be my favorite thing I’ve written. Ever.) Do you like Mama May and Daisy feels? Would you like to sob for several minutes as you read a fic? Then look no further! I’m proud of this one because it was literally my worst fear for how the show could’ve ended that I wrote into a fic to make myself sad. And y’all, I succeeded. I sobbed for at least two hours writing this(and still cry if I read it again).

Stay Alive, That Would be Enough - Rated T - Major Character Death - What if swayed Daisy accidentally killed a member of her team? Written for the AoS Angst War. I’m proud of my fight scenes in this one. :)

Little Black Dress - Rated G - Melinda has a date with Phil, and her 11 year-old daughter, Daisy, has opinions on what she should wear. This one was something new for me. I hadn’t previously written anything with a young version of Daisy. So I’m proud of the cuteness that ensued. And also @justanalto​​‘s comment on this one made me so happy!

Blame it on the Alcohol - Rated T - Phil is drunk at a bar with the guys. Like. Really drunk. So May goes to pick him up. Drunk hilarity follows. Also, Hunter and Fitz arguing at the bar is comedy gold even if I do say so myself. (Also this title took me all the way back to those awkward high school dances where they occasionally played music that was way too inappropriate for 15 year-olds.)

Works by my friends (also in no particular order):

Teach Me How to Say Goodbye - Rated T - by @aleksandrachaev​​ (Sanctuaria on AO3). Ok, look. Do I whine when people kill May? Yes. Do I also still continue to read those fics and cry like a baby when people kill May? Also yes. So that said, if you love May, or Daisy, or the relationship between them, read this. You will probably cry, and probably still end up thanking Kat for stabbing you directly in the heart with this fic. (Really, read it. It’s GREAT!)

I love you (back) - Rated T - by @elbirbi​​ (danixjamie on AO3). Remember how I said, I keep reading fic where May dies? Well add this to the list. I cried just thinking about this fic when I got ready to pick which one of El’s fics to rec on this post (they literally have too many amazing ones, and I could do a whole rec post just on their works). But anyway, this fic is literally a masterclass on how to make me cry, and overall just a gorgeous fic! I mean, the choice of words, I could hear it in Daisy’s voice in my head. I- oof. I could ramble to you all day about this fic, but I won’t take up too much of your dash. Just know there are MayDaisy feels everywhere in this, and you’ll love it!

This headcanon post from @herosofmarvelanddc​​. Did I prompt Lauren for this? Yes. But did she surprise me with amazing headcanons that were 1000 times better than anything I could’ve dreamed up? YES. Mama May helping Daisy shop for a wedding dress. HELP. I’m feeling too many feelings!

This Philinda Stargazing post on Zi’s @agentsofcuteanimals​​ blog. I yelled at Zi for like 2 days over the line “I know there isn’t a universe where I won’t love you.” I’m still not over it honestly. *sobs*

This Philinda appreciation gif post by @marvelsaos​.  I have entirely too many Philinda feels from seeing this post. (and the many, many, many others) *sobs again* Also, can we all take a moment to say thank you so, so, so much to @marvelsaos? I mean. Spending so much time, taking gif requests and giving SO much to the fandom? I love them for it!

And last, but certainly not least is my friend @browneyedgenius​ with her Angst War fic We made all the wrong choices. I still periodically think back to this, M. It really was so good. I knew when I beta read this it was likely going to be the winner because it was... whew. It was amazing! Tugged all the heartstrings and made me feel all the feelings!

#aos best of 2020 #philinda fics #philindaisy fic #aos headcanons #aos appreciation #marvelsaos #browneyedgenius #agentsofcuteanimals #herosofmarvelanddc #elbirbi #aleksandrachaev #Phil Coulson #melinda may #aos #agents of shield #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d. #daisy johnson

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

never let you go (1)

Summary: After losing the woman they love, Bucky and Steve make a desperate decision with unimaginable consequences. 

Characters: Stucky x Reader Warnings: Heavy angst. Brief character death (with a return). Violence, blood, demons, and gore. SMUT (m/f/m, brief m/m, masturbation). An appearance by everyone’s favorite Hunters (SPN crossover).

Prompt: “Heartache is one thing, but this…this is worse.”

A/N: This is my submission for the fantastic @sherrybaby14​ for Sherry’s Fall Into You challenge, thanks babe for hosting. This is a dark story fam, different than my usual writing. Bucky and Steve really do make some bad decisions, so please heed the warnings. This is a short series, only 2-3 parts.

Want to find all my stories? Search #bitsmasterlist or try the link in my bio!

*****

Looking back, it happened so fast.

Night was stealing over the horizon when the mission was officially called. Bad guys in handcuffs, team members safe, the world still turning. On the roof of a nearby office building, you stood between Bucky and Steve, smiling in relief.

Smiling, smiling, smiling.

You were smiling right before the bomb went off.

Later, Bucky remembers the shock on your face, the shape of Steve’s mouth screaming. He remembers that swoop in his belly, the weightless feel of wild loops on a rollercoaster. He remembers your piercing cry as the floor gave way beneath three pairs of boots, bodies knocking together in a choking sea of crumbling concrete and screeching steel.

And when the smoke cleared, when your broken fingers found his and Bucky saw your lips stained with sticky red, he knew instantly. He knew and he knew you knew. You’d seen enough injuries to recognize death when it beckons. Steve was shouting, clambering over a broken wall, fighting through piles of debris to where you lay pinned beneath the unforgiving stone. He collapsed beside you, trembling soot-smudged fingers cupping your face.

No more than a minute passed. Sixty short seconds of breaking and bleeding and screaming, now stretching into an unending lifetime of regret. One minute more, before your small sips of breath slow into nothing. They stay with you until the end, each with their hands on you, comforting and pleading to stay, please stay, we love you, please don’t leave.

But Death cares little for love.

When they emerged from the ruins, Steve carried your broken body, Bucky staggering numbly behind. The world shifts.

Three days later, comes the funeral. Black suits, black dresses, black casket. A rainbow of flowers for a life overflowing with love and laughter. The formalities of grief are observed, those unfailingly dependable motions polite society demands.

Steve, ever the stalwart public figure, does most of the work. Shaking hands and speaking quietly and nodding gravely at words of condolence. On the fringes of the crowd, away from the crush of sympathy Bucky stands pale and hidden. Despite concern and questions, not a single word has passed his lips since that day.

Finally it ends, the last well-wisher is whisked into the night, and they’re left alone. Two men shattered by tragedy, hearts burning with a soul consuming love for a woman they couldn’t save.

Before a crackling fire, Steve sits slumped in your favorite chair. Cocooned in silent misery, red-rimmed eyes wide and unseeing, he holds a heavy crystal tumbler loose in his hand.

When he sucks in a sharp, strangled breath, Bucky looks over.

The tumbler slips from Steve’s hand, bouncing soundlessly on the plush grey rug and he stands quickly, stumbling toward the fireplace. The flames are strangely welcoming, translucent beams of fractured light breaking through the room.

“Get it off,” he suddenly chokes out. Panic bleeds off him in waves, and he yanks at his tie. The knot tightens and Steve begins to sweat, voice rising higher. “Get it off, now, get it off, get it all off! Please! Please Bucky, please!”

Startled, Bucky leaps up. He pulls the jacket down Steve’s flailing arms and watches in confusion as Steve strips off the rest.

Tie, shirt, belt.

Trousers, boxers, socks.

Ripping the jacket dangling from Bucky’s fingers, Steve rolls everything into a ball and shoves it into the fireplace. Flames lick along his hands, instantly scalding his fingertips with angry red blisters, but he pays no attention. The fire is quick to take, wrapping everything in ringlets of blue and orange, greedily devouring the gift.

As he stands naked in the living room, Steve begins to shiver.

“I don’t know if I can - can do this. Heartache is one thing, but this…this is worse.” he gasps. He crouches on the floor, puts his head between his knees. “This is worse, this is - this is fu-fucking worse.”

Shadows dance through the room while the fire consumes the remnants of the funeral suit. Good riddance of course. There’s no way on earth he’d wear those clothes again.

The wet, broken rasp of Steve’s sobs are the only sound in the room. Bucky wants to help, but there’s nothing left inside him. No reassurances, no words of relief. The solace of love that filled their home has evaporated, leaving nothing more than a wisp of memory.

*****

Their world ends, but as always - the days go by.

*****

One morning Bucky wakes up, head still full of foggy dreams. Lost happiness. He comes awake slowly, bleary eyed and so painfully hard he’s ashamed of that fact.

He sets the shower to a burning rain and stands under the deluge. Closes his eyes and lets the heat sear his skin to a sheet of bright red, trying desperately to wash away those heartbreaking dreams of you, safe and perfect in his arms. He palms himself roughly at the thought, trying to ease the ache. There’s a feeling of disgust that accompanies the touch, humiliated frustration at such a base instinct.

He tells himself he can finish it quick, make it go away. Take the edge off.

With one wet hand on slippery tile, he wraps the other around himself and jerks. He hates himself for picturing you. Beautiful lips, beautiful skin, beautiful eyes. The sound of your voice hitching, sweet sighs of pleasure when he touches your body.

He tells himself the water sluicing down his face is the shower. He tells himself he’s fine. This is stress relief. Something to relax. But when he comes all over his hand, his knees buckle and Bucky collapses, crumpling to a ball on the floor of the cavernous shower. Staring up at the ceiling, the water pelts his face until the burning heat turns icy cold.

The dampness on his face, is the shower. They are not tears. He is fine.

That’s what he tells himself, anyway.

*****

One evening, Steve takes a drive.

Out of Manhattan, past the safe lights of suburbia, further north until he hits the solitude of wilderness. He drives until he finds the path he knows, bumping over gnarled roots, wheels grinding pathetically in the silent night. When it ends, he gets out and continues on foot. Pushing through a dense copse of trees, swiping away the sharp branches reaching for him. He walks and walks, until he reaches what he needs.

Moonlight bathes the small clearing in a white glow, and he walks forward until he’s in the middle of the tranquil space. Cold dew soaks into his jeans when he kneels in the stubby grass, but he doesn’t notice. Tipping his head back, he looks up at the stars.

He screams. On and on and on, the sounds echoing back at him, reverberating off the wall of trees, sending sleeping birds into screeching flight. He screams and he screams, rage and grief and the raw devastation of heartbreak so potent he nearly faints. He screams when he remembers the tears in your eyes silently begging for help, and he screams at the impotence of knowing he could do nothing but watch your life bleed away. He screams for himself, for Bucky, for you. Steve screams until his voice is gone, until the soft tissue inside his throat is swollen and shredded and he spits up blood.

And then he staggers to his feet, pushing back through the trees, until he reaches his car. He climbs inside and turns for home.

He comes back the next night. And the one after that.

Again, and again, and again. Step and repeat.

*****

…and the lonely days melt into weeks…

*****

Neither man is deemed fit for combat, both stripped of duties and relegated to wait. Recover, the therapists say. Rest and recover. Work will always be there. Wait it out, until you feel normal.

Bucky punches a hole through their front door at the condescending support. As if he could wait it out. As if that’s a real thing. As if this grief will ever do anything but grind his heart to mush.

Instead of avenging, they pass the time with mundane things. Searching for purpose, finding none.

In the middle of a stormy night, with the world asleep in their beds, they find themselves in an empty gym. Sweat slick fists and knees jabbing, punching, kicking, sparing with vicious intensity. The pace is blindingly fast, sharply efficient. Back and forth they move, a deadly dance that temporarily takes their minds away from the present, from that gaping loss that will never heal.

On and on they move, until Bucky sweeps his leg and Steve misses the jump. He tumbles to the ground, and Bucky pins him neatly against the mat. Breathing hard, Steve stares up, anguish turning him inside out. He opens his mouth and Bucky already knows what’s coming.

“Steve,” he warns.

“I miss her,” Steve whispers. Misery coats the words, sticky with despair.

“Stop,” Bucky snaps. He scrambles to his feet, turns toward the door. “Don’t you fucking do this, I told you we ain’t talking about it.”

Steve climbs sluggishly to his feet. He rubs his eyes, feels the burn of pooling tears. It’s so natural these days, that prickling heat. Looking up, he sees the tense muscles in Bucky’s hunched shoulders, and he can’t stop from asking.

“Do you - do you remember when it was just the two of us? When we were enough?” he asks hoarsely, and Bucky whips around. Rushing Steve, he catches him around the waist and slams him against the padded blue wall. There’s a faint whir of shifting plates and a metal fist pounds the mat, an inch from Steve’s tear-streaked cheek. He doesn’t even flinch, staring bleakly at the rage in Bucky’s face.

Without missing a beat, Bucky grabs a handful of sweaty shirt and hauls him forward, a furious snarl preceding a bruising kiss. Steve goes easily, their lips moving in a violent rhythm against each other.

When Bucky breaks away, he spins Steve around, shoves him face first against the wall. Without a word, he yanks down Steve’s shorts and kicks his feet apart. This is the first time they’ve touched each other since that day, and the intimacy that blooms is brutal.

Rough thrusts. Quiet grunts. Sex is a race to the finish, both betting on themselves and doing everything in their power to win. Bucky fucks into him, hips snapping recklessly, and Steve wraps a hand around himself, jerking quickly. No more than a minute later and it’s over, tempers cooling like the shimmering film of sweat on their skin.

Panting harshly against Steve’s neck, Bucky answers the question, his voice hollow.

“Yeah I remember. Doesn’t matter. We won’t be again.”

*****

…on and on it goes, until weeks blur into months.

*****

Time passes, but there is no movement for them. Every step forward comes with five steps back, regressing into a despair with no end in sight. How can you hope to move on, when the best part of yourself is lost, gone, rotting away in a white marble mausoleum in a Brooklyn cemetery?

How the fuck can you survive, when the light you’ve been living for goes out?

Lying in bed one cold October night, these are the thoughts traipsing through Steve’s head. Beside him, Bucky is wrapped in an old blanket, unwashed hair fanning in dark tangles across his pillow, and for a long time, Steve watches him. He knows when the nightmares arrive. Bucky begins to shake, soft sounds slipping through clenched teeth, whimpers of a cornered dog with no way out. Steve reaches for him.

At the pressure on his arm, Bucky wakes with a strangled moan. Kicking away the blanket, he sits up, twisting to look at Steve. Sweat pours down his face, until Steve looks closer and understands.

Tears.

Chest heaving, Bucky glares at him.

“No, god dammit, fucking - fuck you,” he spits out, choked by tears. “I told you not to wake me up, never wake me up. She was there, I almost had her, she was - she was there, I could’ve - “

Shaking furiously, he scrambles out of bed, dragging the blanket behind him. Moments later, Steve flinches when the bathroom door slams so hard, the walls of their apartment shake.

The thought comes again. When every shred of hope is abandoned, when the devils of despair are hungering for your sanity, what can you possibly do? How can you go on?

There in that room, rising from the depths of hell, an idea comes.

Shadowy images fill his head, blurry mission reports and hazy pictures. A thick binder with a peculiar collection of information, full of monsters and demons and evil that goes bump in the night. Scary stories he and Bucky read as kids, huddled together under his bedspread.

Steve thinks of SHIELD letterhead and a list of names with an unfamiliar title.

Hunters, he thinks. The word ‘Hunters’ was typed at the top of that list.

He gets an idea. Steve gets a terrible, horrible, beautiful idea.

*****

North of Chicago, in a greasy diner rank with the sour scent of body odor, four men are squeezed into a red booth. The cracked vinyl is peeling away in places, sharp edges revealing yellowed stuffing and frayed threads, and when Bucky lays his arm across the back, it pinches his skin. Beside him, Steve sits stiffly, hands folded next to a chipped ceramic mug of lukewarm coffee.

Hunched across from them, shoveling syrup-soaked pancakes in his mouth, Dean Winchester thumbs over his shoulder at the chalkboard sign above the counter.

“Pig ’N a Poke. Always good.”

No one responds. An awkward silence blankets the uncomfortably full booth, until Bucky clears his throat.

“So you two -“ he motions between the two men, “you’re, what? Together?”

Swearing under his breath, Dean rolls his eyes and keeps eating. “Why the hell does everyone ask that? No. We’re brothers. God damn.”

Crammed beside Dean, Sam Winchester observes the two super soldiers. Toying with the edge of his coffee cup, he fixes them with a thoughtful stare.

“Sorry we dodged your calls, we uh, we try to stay away from SHIELD,” he says wryly. “Not much good ever comes from it.”

“Yeah, last time we got involved, you dicks got my car impounded,” Dean pipes up, spraying bits of pancake across the table. Fixing him with a dark glare, Bucky slowly wipes it off his cheek. Dean grins.

Ignoring the exchange, Steve leans forward, gripping the coffee cup to steady his nervous hands. He takes a deep breath.

“We won’t say anything. SHIELD can’t know we’re here. I read a report about - about something that happened. About something you did. It said - “ He pauses, debating his next words. They tumble out in a rush of breath. “It said you know how to make deals. With certain kinds of - people. The kind of deals that need to stay off the radar.”

Everyone in the cramped booth freezes. The pancake laden fork briefly hovers in midair, before clattering to the table.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Steve gathers himself and tips his chin up.

“Not even a little.”

Dean leans back. Eyes flitting between the two men, perhaps gauging their sanity. It takes a full minute before he speaks.

“Man, you fucking superheroes are something else, you know that? I don’t know what you read in that report you found Captain, but you think there’s something you need that’s worth an eternity literally burning in hell? Is that what I’m hearing?”

Neither answers immediately. Bucky looks aside, out the dust smeared window, to the black Impala parked in front. He wonders briefly where the Winchesters found it. He always wanted one.

“We lost someone.”

At Steve’s quiet admission, Bucky turns back with a ferociously defiant expression and Sam’s eyes soften.

“Yeah. We heard about that. I’m sorry.”

Steve acknowledges the condolence with a stiff nod, while Bucky schools his face into a blank mask. Looking between the two men, Dean takes a deep breath.

“Listen, I’m sorry about what happened, I really am. But I’m not gonna sugar coat this for you. My suggestion? Get some god damn therapy and figure out how to move on. Me and Sammy, we’ve both been down there and this isn’t some bullshit scare tactic, or some ghost story you heard in Sunday school. This is fucking real. And it doesn’t end. Ever. This is forever. Hell is forever. Do you get that?”

“I know a thing or two about hell,” Bucky says drily, taking a sip of coffee. He feels a funny lurch in his belly when Dean levels him with a pitying stare.

“No. You don’t.”

Arms crossed on the flaking linoleum table, Bucky sits forward. “Listen kid, I’m under no illusions about my future. All the shit I’ve done, every crime, every murder, you think I don’t know where I’m ending up? No amount of heavenly forgiveness is gonna take that away. This ends bloody for me no matter what path I choose. So, enlighten me here. Why the hell shouldn’t I make it count?”

Silence hangs over the table. Beside him, Bucky feels Steve’s hand on his thigh, a comforting squeeze. He understands. For all Steve’s comments about the past not being Bucky’s fault, of course he considered this outcome.

Across the table, Sam quietly clears his throat, murmuring low.

“Dean -”

“No, this is horseshit and you know it. You can’t - “ he stops when he seems the firm resolve on both faces. And honestly? Dean Winchester has been a lost cause often enough to recognize a case when he sees one. “Fine. If you boys do this, that’s it. There’s no going back. You understand that? You are on your own. We can’t save you.”

“Yes,” Steve grits out. “We understand.”

“No, I don’t think you do. You make a deal like this and that’s it. There’s no get out of jail. Hell comes calling and that bitch’ll rip you limb from limb, before she drags you to rot down below.”

The words have no effect. Steve peers sideways at Bucky and finds him perfectly relaxed.

“We appreciate the concern. But we’re good.”

Mumbling all manner of obscenities under his breath, Dean digs inside his jacket until he finds a small yellow notepad and a dull pencil. Slapping it on the table, he writes. List, instructions, locations. He rips the paper out and flings it at Steve.

“This is on your heads.”

Nodding his thanks, Steve folds the paper and tucks it carefully in his pocket. The broken leather of the booth creaks and squeaks as he exits, Bucky sliding out behind him.

Side by side, they look down at the Winchester brothers. All four men have been perpetually hounded by some form of death their entire lives; it seems inevitable they would meet before the end.

Offering a faint smile, Bucky shrugs.

“Haven’t you ever loved someone so much, you’d move heaven and earth to bring them back?”

*****

Under the full moon, Steve cracks the small tin box for one final look.

A polaroid of him and Bucky. A clear glass vial of graveyard dirt from a small plot in Brooklyn. The leg bone from a black cat, a stray they saw skulking in an alley; Steve had caught it and did the dirty work there. Bucky always was a bleeding heart when it came to animals.

Crouched in the dead center of the crossroad, Bucky carves out a small hole with smooth metal fingers. When Steve hands him the box, he places it carefully, angling it just right.

Piling the dirt back over, Bucky pats it down and stands, legs suddenly shaky, heart hammering in fear. Dusting off his hands, he edges closer to Steve.

“Now what?”

Steve says nothing. He stares at the stalks of yellow flowers lining the road, waving gently in the night air, and the innocuous sight sends a shiver rippling down his spine.

“Well, well, well. Two super soldiers? This is one hell of a surprise.”

The voice is soft, gentle. Musical in a way, like windchimes on a sunny day or the faint hum of birds warbling in the morning.

It turns their blood to ice.

Both men whirl simultaneously, discovering a woman standing behind them. Dressed in a wispy white dress, dark hair falls in thick waves down her back, bottle green eyes framed by long lashes. When she smiles, a dimple appears.

Beautiful. Ethereal. The kind of woman who could lure a man into anything.

She blinks. Shining in the moonlight, the green disappears and another color slides in place. Sickeningly bright, hot as fire.

Red.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve hisses, stumbling back a step back and she laughs.

“No, I’m afraid not.”

Beside him, Bucky feels Steve trembling, and he reaches for his hand, tangling their fingers together. The gesture fills them both with a renewed courage, and Steve clears his throat.

“We want to - we need - we need to make a deal. There’s someone. We need to bring someone back. To life.”

She whistles, long and low. “Hmm. That’s a tall order boys. I’ll need something good to make this worth my while.”

“The deal is 10 years, right?” Steve motions between him and Bucky. “We each get 10 years, and then - then -“ he trips over the words, unable to finish the grisly statement. Amused, she lets him flounder. “Then we’re - then we’ll go.”

“Normally yes. Those are the standard terms, but for you two? I don’t know. Feels like I could get myself in trouble for taking from such - virile specimens.”

“But we want to deal,” Steve argues.

The white dress flows like water as she strolls forward. Stopping before them, she trails a finger down Bucky’s silver arm, and he shudders.

“Maybe we could come to a different arrangement. If you’re interested.”

“Like what?”

“Well boys, I think you might be worth far more above ground than below. So how about this.” Green eyes gleaming, Bucky has the gruesome sense of a spider moving silently along her web, stalking two struggling flies. “I know who you want, and I’ll bring her back, safe and sound. Deliver her right to your door, and both of you stay up here. Souls intact. For one tiny price.”

Too good to be true. Far too good. Bucky waits for the pin to drop.

“What tiny price?” he breathes.

She smiles. 

And then she answers.

Still clasping hands, Bucky feels cold sweat slicking Steve’s palm. Is this right? Can they really do this? The offer is tantalizing, another level of evil they have yet to fully comprehend. But Bucky knows his mind, what he’s willing to give, and he knows Steve feels the same.

There is no question.

“Deal.”

“Takes a kiss to seal it,” she whispers. Moving close, she curls a hand behind Steve’s neck and pulls his face down. Eyes squeezed shut, mouth drawn in a tight line, he waits it out, a full body shiver rattling his tall frame. Her fingers run through his sweaty blond hair, and he feels sick to his stomach at the way her fingernails scratch so invitingly along his scalp. When she’s had enough, she breaks away in a huff of feigned disappointment.

“Less than inspiring Captain.” Turning to Bucky, she offers a sly smile. “How about you, Soldier? Got anything better?”

Bucky steels himself, as she rises on her toes and presses her mouth to his. He keeps his eyes open, staring forward, and lets her have the kiss, feels her run her tongue along the seam of his lips, a brazen request for more. Parting his lips, he tastes the cloyingly sweet scent of her breath, feels her rub against him, the cool damp of her tongue licking along his teeth.

Forcing himself to disconnect from the moment, he wonders how a kiss can feel so utterly wrong. He wants to turn heel and run, but he’s suddenly and overwhelmingly terrified she might rescind the deal. That she might snatch this burgeoning hope from their begging hands and return to her corner of hell.

So, he lets her have the kiss. Right now, the hideous truth is that he’d give her anything she asked, if it meant he gets you back.

Finally she pulls away, running her fingers down his chest.

“Much better. Now - kiss each other.” Confused, they look at each other and back to her. The seriousness of the request fades and she laughs. “Kidding. Two pretty boys like you, how can I help myself?”

Stepping back, her eerily musical laughter still dancing on the wind, she vanishes.

The night is silent.

Bucky staggers to the yellow flowers and vomits all over them.

*****

Driving along the lonely stretch of highway, they sit in silence. Each wrestling with newfound demons, now more than metaphorical.

“Do you think it worked?” Steve asks, voice hushed and rough.

Bucky stares straight ahead, watching the night zip by, illuminated asphalt between twin beams of light. He says nothing.

*****

Their front door still has a patch on the outside, where Bucky slammed his fist through the wood. It swings quietly when Steve pushes it open, clicking on the hall light. They drop their bags in the entry, walking through the dark apartment.

“But when would we know, that’s what I don’t -“

Steve stops so abruptly, Bucky trips into him from behind.

“Dammit Steve, what - “

In the armchair by the window, sits a familiar silhouette. Barefoot, wearing a long-sleeved blue t-shirt and jeans, someone turns to face them.

Shocked silence billows out, thick and bottomless. There’s a strangled gasp and Steve flings out an arm, blocking Bucky from running at you.

“Wait,” he hisses, “Buck, just - just wait.”

Bewildered, you watch their cautious movements, small shuffles inching closer. When they’re two feet away, Steve stops them again.

“Hold out your hand,” he whispers raggedly, and you stare in confusion. He shakes his head, still holding Bucky back with one arm and motions for your hand. Extending it slowly, you offer it palm up. Steve fishes out a small bottle from his pocket, trembling fingers flipping the lid, and with a deep breath, he splashes holy water all over your hand.

He cringes, waiting.

Nothing.

Staring curiously at the innocent water droplets, you look up.

“Steve, what is this? What’s happening?”

At the sound of your exhausted voice, a broken howl rips from Bucky’s throat and he barrels past Steve. Falling at your feet, he wraps his arms tight around your waist and buries his face against your belly, his shoulders shaking with the hurricane force of his wrenching sobs. Gentle fingers comb through his tangled hair, while you calm him with meaningless words, the soothing syllables priceless simply because they’re yours.

Over the sound of Bucky’s tears, Steve comes closer. He traces the curves of your face, over your forehead, down your nose, brushing your lips. It worked, he thinks, and fierce relief sweeps through him. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he presses his mouth to your temple, inhaling the clean scent of your skin.

“Welcome home, sweetheart.”

*****

For the next three days, you do nothing but sleep. Small breaks between sleep and awake to eat the chicken noodle soup Bucky brings, the pastrami sandwich Steve cuts into small squares, a chocolate chip cookie fresh from the oven.

At first, they worry. Did they fuck up the deal? Was something else wrong? Were you sick? Eventually, they understand coming back to life is not as simple as waking up and picking up where you left off.

So, they let you sleep, drawing the bedroom curtains into darkness, fluffing up the pillows whenever you stumble to the bathroom, keeping the glass on the nightstand filled with cool water. They linger outside the bedroom door, propped against the wall and watching each other, impatiently patient.

In the middle of the night on the fourth day, Bucky jolts awake. Sleepy and befuddled, his heart sinks. Was it another dream? His mind playing tricks? Listening, he waits and waits and waits, and suddenly, he hears it again.

No, this is not a dream. This is real.

He hears you calling.

“Bucky? Steve?”

Scrambling to his feet, he kicks Steve awake and drags him up. Together, they crack open the bedroom door, a dim sliver of hall light illuminating the sight. There you are, curled in a ball along the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” you whisper hoarsely, pulling the blanket tighter. They creep closer, kneeling together beside the bed to look in your eyes.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky says softly. “Did you need something?”

The question comes with such tenderness, your heart swells. What you needed, was to ask them what happened. What did they do? How did it happen? What did it cost? You know the grim reality of whatever magic they used to bring you back will have consequences. Selfish magic always does.

These are the things you should ask, the things you need to know. But in this moment, with these two extraordinary men watching you with such breathless reverence, the intensity of a different emotion strikes like lightning. It surges through your veins, a liquid fire craving to feel them, inside and out.

Nothing else matters. The truth can wait.

“Can you do something for me?” you whisper instead.

“Anything,” he breathes instantly, Steve nodding helpfully.

“Can you kiss me?” you whisper and Bucky blinks, surprised. Glancing at Steve, he hesitates briefly, before leaning forward and placing a chaste kiss on your lips. He tastes soft, a faint hint of minty toothpaste on his breath.

When he breaks away, you slip a hand behind his neck. He swallows hard at feel of your fingers digging into his skin and leans helplessly into the touch.

“Honey - “ he starts, but you cut him off.

“Kiss me again. Mean it this time.”

At your demand, dark lust fills his face. Eyes flicking back and forth, he appears to gauge the request, making absolutely sure you’re sure, and then -

He devours you.

Shoving you back into the mess of pillows, he climbs onto the bed, mouth slanting hungrily over yours. Teeth bumping, tongue sliding along yours, he holds your face between his palms, damp skin and cool metal. He kisses so long and deep, so thorough and full of passion, it leaves you gasping for air.

“Better?” he murmurs, and for the first time since the day you died, since that moment your soul flew beyond his reach, the faint flicker of a smile tugs his lips.

The kiss does nothing to calm the tide. It makes your skin sizzle, lust sweeping through your body.

“I need you. Both of you. Please,” you breathe, tugging frantically at your shirt, a feverish desperation for the blazing heat of their skin against yours.

“Are you sure?” Steve asks hoarsely, blunt tipped fingers gripping your hip so tight you feel a bruise already forming. There is no pain though, only the comforting pressure of intimate familiarity. “We don’t have to do anything, not yet, not - not ever.”

“Please,” you plead again. “Please. It’s been so long, I missed you, don’t - don’t let me leave you, please Steve, please don’t let me go again.”

At your tearful words, Steve genuinely believes he feels his heart break. All he knows, all he will ever know again, is a burning need to fix this. To keep you and Bucky safe from everything, no matter the cost.

“Never. Never again,” he vows, and beside him, Bucky echoes the promise.

“Never, sweetheart. We’ll never let you go.”

The simplicity of a remembered intimacy comes naturally. Steve settles against the headboard and pulls you between his legs, tossing away your shirt and peppering kisses across your back, over your shoulders, up your neck. Wide hands stroke up along your ribcage, cupping your breasts. It makes you twitch when he gently pinches your nipples, teeth nipping at your ear.

Bucky slides your panties off and settles between your legs, easing them open. Warm breath brushes over your clit and then he licks a firm strip between your folds. At your low moan, he slowly pushes two fingers inside you, twisting and rubbing until sparks crackle along your skin.

“Keep going, oh god, keep going.”

Bracketed between Steve’s thighs, one hand tangled in Bucky’s dark hair, your hips push up to meet every stroke of his tongue, writhing as he holds you down. Steve’s hands are ceaseless, rubbing your breasts, circling your nipples, tugging lightly as he leaves small bites along your neck.

“There you go baby, that’s it,” he whispers. “Keep watching him, don’t look away.”

Eyes on the ceiling, you force yourself to look down, at the man nestled snug between your legs. His dark hair falls over his forehead, blue eyes burning you to ash.

“Bucky,” you rasp, powerless against the onslaught of pleasure, “Steve. Please.”

The sound of his name falling from your lips, something he never expected to hear again, sends Bucky into a frenzy. Tongue flicking faster, he pumps his fingers harder, the vibration from his moan pulsing against your clit and everything shatters.

Arching up, the orgasm crests and breaks, white noise blanking your mind. Incoherent cries fill your ears, over and over, until you recognize the sound of your own voice, a repetitious prayer crafted from the only three words that will ever matter.

Bucky.

Steve.

Please.

They answer, of course. In perfect fashion, with perfect rhythm.

Steve pulls your boneless, shuddering body higher, and Bucky opens your legs wider, letting Steve ease into your pussy from behind. He groans at the feel, the silky wet heat gripping him, and clutches your back tight to his chest. Rocking his hips up, he moves your body easily, thrusting deep. The delicious sound of his soft grunts fill your ear and it reignites the throbbing ache between your legs.

Bucky crawls up until he straddles you both, his tongue curling around your nipple, licking, sucking, tugging delicately with his teeth. He frees your hand, the one digging into Steve’s thigh, and wordlessly coaxes it between his legs. Wrapping sweaty fingers tight around his cock, you stroke him, following the rhythm Steve sets.

It feels so easy, the three of you moving in tandem, both men thrusting faster, harder, rougher, until you come once more, and just like always, they follow to a stuttering end right behind.

Bucky.

Steve.

Please.

Yes, these three words are the only ones you think you’ll ever need.

****

Sated, the three of you lay together. Bucky in his favorite place, forehead tucked against your breasts, his arm curved around your waist. Steve warm and solid, molded head to toe along your back, his arm slung around you both, fingers lazily twirling Bucky’s hair.

Beyond the curtains, darkness remains. Now, with your body exhausted and comforted by their presence, if becomes easier to whisper the question.

“How did you do it?”

“Hmm?” Steve murmurs, drifting toward the balm of sleep. Bucky says nothing, simply snuggles closer, his steady breaths puffing warm on your skin.

“I remember what happened.” Softly the confession falls. “Please don’t lie to me. Tell me how you did it. How you brought me back.”

Both men stiffen. Bucky stops breathing. Steve stops stroking his hair. Dread fills you, cold as ice. You know then, whatever price they’ve paid? It will tear the world apart.

Breath tickling the back of your neck, Steve murmurs so quietly, you strain to hear.

“We made a deal.”

*****

Part 2

*****

#stucky x reader #bucky x reader x steve #sherrysfallintoyouchallenge #bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #stucky fic #bucky x reader #steve x reader #spn #supernatural #crossover fic

[a-winchester-fairytale]

Secrets and Lies

Summary:  (Between S5 and S6)  Dean has no idea that his brother is alive, but when his sorrow awakens a vision - you do.

Warnings:  Lots of Angst, Dean feeling sad and lost, Soulless Sam

A/N:  Thank you for letting me join your Lie To Me challenge @stusbunker​ Hope you are having a wonderful birthday!!  When I read these lyrics, I immediately thought about Dean and the struggle he had with letting go of a hunter’s life with Sam to try and live a normal one.  I hope I did it justice.

I believe I’ve passed the age of consciousness and righteous rage I found that just surviving was a noble fight I once believed in causes too I had my pointless point of view And life went on no matter who was wrong or right ----Billy Joel

He looked tired, sitting there with that dark haired girl and little boy.  Their backs were to you, giving you the opportunity to watch him for a little while, his eyes looking down at the table in front of him.  He was listening to them, glancing up to their faces from time to time, but not really seeing them either.  There was something different about him – the fight gone from him somehow.

The last time you had seen him, he was fierce and the fire glowed behind his green eyes.  He was fearless, determined, strong, but still kind – just like his brother.  The man you saw sitting across the diner was broken, a stranger.

After a few minutes, they stood up and – after leaving some cash on the table – headed out the door.  His eyes met yours as he passed by your booth, but there was no sign that you registered as someone he once knew.  It was only for a brief moment anyway.  They had saved you from Lucifer – the brothers – almost a year ago now.   You had stayed with them for a month, until you started having nightmares about Sam and Lucifer and the answer he swore he would never give, but you knew he eventually would.  It had been the reason Lucifer was interested in you in the first place, your ability to see things that hadn’t yet happened.

It was a time in your life that you could never forget, but it was only one of thousands for them.  You understood that.  You asked the waitress for your check and started rummaging through your purse for some cash when you were startled.  Looking back up, you were once again locking eyes with Dean Winchester. 

“Hey.”  He said quietly, sitting down across from you.  “How have you been?”

“I didn’t think you recognized me.”  You said instead of answering him.  He just shrugged.

“I did, I just ….don’t say much about that stuff in front of them.”  He admitted, looking away.  “What are you doing here?”

“I live here….now.”  You answered.  “You?”

“Same, I guess.  I’ve been living with Lisa and Ben since….”  His voice dropped off just then.  “I work construction out at the yard on route 10.”  He added instead of finishing his original thought. 

He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair and along the back of his neck, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes again.  “Lisa is taking Ben to some school thing tomorrow night.  I get off work around 7:00.  Do you want to have dinner?  It would be nice to catch up.”

“Sure.  I’ll meet you here?”  You asked.  Dean nodded, glancing up for just an instant as he stood.

“I better go.”  He quietly said before walking away. 

He didn’t know for sure why he did it.  Maybe he just wanted to be around someone that knew him and Sam before, maybe he just didn’t want to be alone with his own thoughts with Lisa and Ben out of the house, maybe he just wanted a friend that didn’t expect anything from him.

He loved Lisa, and Ben, but he knew he wasn’t himself.  Most of the time he was angry and felt like a failure.  He missed his brother, and he couldn’t live with the idea that Sammy was locked up with Lucifer inside of him – stuck in some hypothetical cage in hell.  Dean remembered hell all too well.  He still had nightmares about it, only now it was Sam’s face he saw in the flames instead of his own.

Some days it was all he could do just to keep going.  Most of the time, he could barely remember what they had done it all for.  It just wasn’t the same without Sam there.  Now, he knew he spent his days going through the motions, just trying to fake it enough to get by.

You went to the diner a little early the following day, feeling nervous for a reason you couldn’t put your finger on.  It was busy and you distracted yourself with watching the other patrons from a small corner table you had found empty when you arrived.  You smiled when you saw him walk into the diner, his face giving away his relief that you had actually come.

“How was your day?”  You asked as he joined you.

“Same as always.”  He answered with a shrug.  “Sorry, guess that one takes a little getting used to.”  He added when he realized he was being gruff.

“I can see where building houses would be mundane in comparison to what you are used to.”  You tried to joke with him and he chuckled, a light airy laugh.

“That’s the understatement of the year.”  He replied, the smile lingering on his lips.  It was the slightest hint of the Dean you remembered you had seen since you said goodbye all those months ago.

The two of you made light chatter while you waited for your food to appear, then maintaining the conversation as you ate.  Finally, Dean leaned back in the chair and studied your expression as he asked, “I’m guessing you don’t ask because you already saw it?”

“I don’t ask because, although you can tell me anything, you don’t owe me any explanations.”  You replied.

“Lisa tells me the same thing, but i know she thinks it would help to talk about it.”  His thoughts came flowing out without a conscious decision to speak the words.  “I can’t tell her the truth though, so I just don’t say anything at all.  I mean, how am I supposed to tell her that he said yes to Lucifer?”

“Not really pillow talk, is it?”  You muttered, biting down on your lip as soon as you did.  You glanced up at him nervously, but he didn’t get angry.  Instead he laughed, effortlessly this time.

“No, it’s not.”  He chuckled.  It felt good, but the sound was one he barely remembered.  “Did you know?”  He asked after a moment of silence.

You looked away and nodded.  “I knew he would say yes, but I didn’t know when or how it would end.”  

“Well, I wouldn’t say yes so Michael took our half brother Adam, Lucifer was winning the battle with Sam at first, we fought and Sam was able to get control long enough to pull them both into a hole in the ground.  Now they are in the cage.  Apocalypse avoided.”  Dean recounted, the sound of Sam’s name in his ears felt like someone punched him in the chest.

He glanced around the room before taking a flask from his jacket pocket and pouring some in the coffee he had barely touched.

“What about Castiel...and Bobby?”  

“Cas went back to Heaven I guess.  I haven’t seen him a while.  Bobby went back to Sioux Falls.  Sam made me promise to go to Lisa and try to leave that life behind, to be happy.  I think they just want to give me a chance to do that.”  He explained, rolling his eyes.

“But you’re not.”  You volunteered for him.  He smirked.

“Not really.  I try to be.  Sometimes I forget for a second and I am, but it doesn’t last.  I care about Ben, and Lisa tries so hard.”  He confided, shaking his head.  “I think I could love her, but something in me just won’t let me get there….at least not yet.”

You reached out, taking his hand in yours, ignoring the pang in your chest at the way he talked about Lisa.  He looked up to meet your eyes, surprised at the electricity he felt from your touch.

“This isn’t your fault, you know.”

There is was, the uncanny way you had of reading all the things he never said.  He knew your secret, that you got flashes of the future, but he also knew those flashes didn’t tell you what he was thinking and feeling deep down inside his heart.  He still couldn’t understand how you always seemed to see all of it.  

Dean didn’t say anything back.  He just watched as he turned his hand so he could wrap his fingers with yours.  He ran his thumb along the side of your hand gently.

“Give me your phone.”  You told him after a few minutes.  He blinked like you had shaken him back from a place far away.

Without questioning it, he let go of your hand to reach in his pocket and handed over his phone.  You entered your phone number into his contacts and handed it back.

“Now you can call me whenever you want to.  It would be nice to stay in touch with you this time.”  You told him.

“Yeah, it would.”  He agreed.

When it was almost time for the diner to close, you followed Dean out to the parking lot.  He surprised you by walking up to an older pickup and unlocking the driver’s door.

“Don’t tell me you traded your baby for the truck.”  

“Definitely not.”  He scoffed, faking offense at the idea.  “She’s been garaged.  It just didn’t feel right, you know?”

“I understand.”  you nodded.  It wasn’t surprising that he would have a hard time driving that car and looking over at the empty passenger seat after everything.

“I know you do.  You always have, although I still have no idea how.”  He told you, twirling the keys in his hand.  “I think that’s why I said all that stuff.  I haven’t said it to anyone else.”

“You can always tell me anything.”  You reminded him instead of telling him the reason was that you cared for him, and had since he pulled you out of the prison Lucifer was keeping you in.  How could you possibly tell him that now, after everything?  It didn’t seem fair.  Instead, you reached up and wrapped your arms around his shoulders.  

You felt him hug you back, holding you tighter than you expected.  You closed your eyes and smiled at the warmth you felt in his arms.  Although everything in his life had changed, you couldn’t stop from thinking that he still felt the exact same, still had the same smell.  You inhaled softly so he wouldn’t realize that you were trying to memorize it. 

The two of you said good night and you watched as he drove away.  You could feel his heartache in your own.  With a deep breath you turned and headed back to the apartment you were renting.

You flew up in the bed, your clothes soaked from sweat, your heart racing as you tried to catch your breath.  You reached over and flipped on the nightlight, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and sipping on the water you had left sitting on the nightstand.

It had been months since you had a nightmare like that, one that you knew wasn’t just a dream but a vision.  You couldn’t make sense of it.  It was about Sam, but not.  At least not the Sam you remembered.  The Sam you remembered was kind, patient, empathetic.  The one in your vision was beating a cop on the side of the road and was riding with someone other than Dean.  For a moment you thought it might have been Lucifer and the thought sent shivers down your back.  Then you remembered the name listed on the police car and you knew you had to find out for sure.  You reached for the phone and called the airline to book a ticket to Rhode Island.

Arriving in Bristol immediately felt like a mistake.  You kept thinking to yourself that if what you saw really was Lucifer, you had to question your own sanity for purposely seeking him out.  You didn’t even know when that vision would actually take place.  The only thing you knew was that the only person you ever harbored feelings for was lost without Sam and if you could give that back to him, you knew you had to try anything.

You finally saw him the following day, heading through town with the same man you had seen him with in your dream.  You couldn’t help but notice the cut on his forehead and the slight rip in his shirt, convincing you that the assault you visioned had already happened - although neither of them seemed especially worried.

You followed them for a little while, trying to stay far enough away to avoid being noticed, but close enough to hear them planning the hunt.  They turned a corner, but when you did the same, neither of them were anywhere to be found.

You turned a couple of times, cursing under your breath before heading back out toward the street.  Suddenly, you felt someone grab you and shove you against the brick wall.

“Why are you tailing us?”  Sam’s voice boomed, his strong hands gripping your shoulders.

“I wasn’t sure it was you at first, Sam.”  You answered, nervously.

“Hey...I know you.”  Sam commented, his eyes squinting as he tried to remember.  He released his grip and took a step backward.  “Did we….?”  He asked, making a gesture that certainly didn’t leave anything to the imagination.

“What!?  No…”  You scoffed.

“Shame.”  He replied with a suggestive glance.

“What are you doing here, Sam?  And who is this guy?”  You asked, gesturing to his companion standing just out of earshot.  Something was definitely off about Sam, but you couldn’t quite figure out what was going on. 

“Hunting.  Didn’t you hear?  There are people behaving like spiders here.”  He answered.  “And that is my grandfather.”  He added matter-of-factly.

“I thought you didn’t have any family other than Dean.”  You asked.  Sam leaned his head back and rolled his eyes.

“Is that what this is about?  Dean?”  He asked you.  “Look, my brother is living the all american apple pie life he was meant to live with some girl he fell in love with and her kid.  No big deal, but there are still monsters to hunt, so that’s what I’m doing.”

“He thinks you’re dead!”  you exclaimed, glancing around and lowering your voice before finishing  “And sitting in hell with Lucifer and Michael.”

“I was….for a little while.  Now I’m back.”  He confirmed.

“Sam, how could you be so cavalier about this?”  you asked, confused.  Sam thought about it for a second.  He knew he was different than before he went into the pit, but so far different for him had been better.  He was stronger, faster, a better hunter.  He couldn’t allow you to make him feel like it was wrong to be any of those things.

“I’m not trying to be anything, but why should I go back and pull Dean out of a life he is happy in?  It’s what he wanted.”

“Because Dean’s not happy.  He will never be happy thinking his brother is dead.  You of all people should know that!”  You argued, but Sam merely shrugged.

“I’ll think about it.”  Was all he said, walking away.  You stared after him, too shocked to move.  You felt confident that he wasn’t Lucifer simply pretending.  If he had been, there would have been fury and manipulation.  This Sam wasn’t any of those things.  Instead, it was like he didn’t care about anything or anyone.  No real feelings, just indifference.

You couldn’t help but wonder if Dean wasn’t better off not knowing this version of his brother.  .  

As you pondered it all on the plane ride home, you glanced through all of the phone messages you had ignored from him while you were gone.

When you arrived back at your apartment, Dean was sitting on the porch outside.  “Are you okay?”  He jumped up and asked as soon as you got out of the cab.

“Dean, what are you doing here?  How did you even know where I lived?”

“Trust me, you aren’t that hard to find in this town.”  He teased.  “Sorry to just show up like this.  You didn’t answer and I guess I just started to get worried.  Old habits.”  He added with a grin.

“It’s ok.  I..um...had some family stuff to take care of, kinda last minute.”  You told him, opening the door and offering him to come inside.  Dean shook his head.

“I better not.”  He answered.  “I should probably get back.”

“I know I told you that I was going to be here for a while, but it doesn’t look like that is going to work out.”  You told him, almost as surprised at the words as he was.

You hadn’t planned to say it, but now that you had you felt like it was right.  You would never be able to keep a secret like that from him, seeing him hurting every day.  Besides, if Sam was right, and Lisa really was who Dean wanted, it would break your heart every single time you saw them together.  Better to let him go now.

“Are you sure?”  He asked and you nodded.

Dean took a few steps toward you until he was standing right in front of you.  He reached out, hugging you and you felt him sigh.

“Don’t be a stranger this time, okay.”  He whispered in your ear.  “I’ve said good-bye to so many people, you’d think it would get easier.”  He added, trying to lighten the darkness that fell between you.  

Slowly he pulled away and headed back to the truck, his shoulders a little lower and his steps seemed heavier.  

“Dean, your brother….”  You blurted out, but stopped yourself when he turned to face you.   “Your brother would want you to find a way to be happy.  I really hope that you do.”

“I know.  Maybe someday.”  He replied, getting in the truck and driving home.

Dean pulled into the driveway and sat in the truck for a few minutes, taking a couple of drinks from the bottle in his glove box.  He glanced around a couple of times, unable to shake the feeling that someone was watching.  Finally he shrugged it off to hunter’s paranoia and went in to sit down to dinner.  

“You okay?”  Lisa asked when he seemed particularly quiet.  Dean nodded.

“Yeah.”  He answered, turning his attention back to Ben.

Dean took a long drink from his glass, never noticing the shadow that stood just on the edge of the light, watching through the window - trying to decide if you were right or if his brother really was better off not knowing the truth

_____________________________________________________________

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#i lied to stu #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x lisa #sam winchester #souless sam #supernatural #season 6 #season 5 #swan song #lisa and ben braeden #vision #lie to me #secrets and lies

[impala-dreamer]

Things We Never Said

SPN FanFic

~The Winchesters have a hard time getting the right words out at the right time.~

Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader

1,565 Words

Warnings: Super Angst.

A/N: This is for my Fic Imitating Art Challenge! The prompt is entirely based on the graphic created by @because-imma-lady-assface. I hope you enjoy!

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Dean wasn’t good with words. They tumbled out of him in emotional bursts that usually got the wrong reaction, causing more problems than they solved.

Sam...he knew how to find the words, knew what he wanted, needed to say,  just not how to get them out. Not when it came to you. Neither of them knew how to explain just what you meant to them.

They met you on a Tuesday, which Sam found strange when he looked back later, because nothing good ever happened on a Tuesday. It was raining, which Dean enjoyed, and he always would remember how you looked up from the ground, covered in mud and cuts, lashes carrying raindrops as you blinked at him.

“Thanks for the hand,” you teased, out of breath from the fight, wind knocked out of you as the demon power shot you across the empty field.

Dean gave a short laugh and extended a hand, instantly taken back when your small hand fit so perfectly into his. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

You jumped to your feet and wiped a bit of mud from your cheek. “Don’t worry about it. I’m used to getting dirty.”

Something about the way you winked at him punched him in the chest and that was the end of him. He could feel it right then and there. Maybe he’d never call it love, but it was something, and that something was stronger than he’d felt in forever.

“You got a name, stranger?” you asked, turning a sly smile at his glazed expression.

“Uh…” His lips moved but no name came out.

“Winchester,” Sam spoke up, jog coming to a halt by your side. “I’m Sam,” he said, reaching to shake your hand. “This is my brother, Dean.”

You smiled up at him as you slipped free from Dean’s grip and into Sam’s. “Sam and Dean Winchester? The Sam and Dean?”

Sam blushed and nodded, bit of hair falling to cover his hazel eyes. “I guess so.”

“Well, lucky me.” You bit your lip and smiled, innocent eyes sparkling even in the darkness of the storm.

Sam fell hard in that moment, lost in the twinkle in your eye and the softness of your voice. He felt his heart beat, every muscle coming to life as you held his hand so tight. He was hooked.

“You fellas wanna give a lady a ride back to her car?” you asked, finally letting them both go and turning towards the road. A quick look over your shoulder showed the brothers frozen in place, faint smitten smiles turning their lips. You laughed and let them watch you walk away, swinging your hips a little more obviously than usual.

Dean sighed. “She’s…”

Sam cleared his throat. “Yeah…”

The brothers shared a look and took off, determined to see who would get to you first; a friendly competition for your hand.

Time moved quickly as it always did and the Tuesdays piled up in the rearview.

In the end, neither Winchester made a move, knowing it would only lead to trouble between them. The world gave them enough issues. Bringing one home, even one as intriguing as you, just wasn’t in the cards.

That was fine with you, you weren’t in it for love anyway. Still, there were times when Dean’s lips accidentally met yours after a bottle of whiskey, or his heated admonishments would make your heart swell, knowing he yelled because he was worried.

You never talked about those drunken nights or passionate pep talks, not with anyone.

Not even when Sam slipped into your room at night, curling his long body around yours, nuzzling into your ear, whispering words of comfort. Not when his fingers would brush against yours beneath the table while you both poured over books in the Library.

It was an unspoken thing. They both held your heart, but they pretended all was normal. Just friends, colleagues even. A trio of hunters working to rid the world of monsters and the evil that lurked in the night.

It was a Tuesday when they lost you.

The poetic irony of the day nearly snapped Sam in half when he realized the date, rushing to your side as you fell, the monster’s claws ripping straight through your flesh.

The sun was bright and the sky was filled with marshmallow clouds that seemed soft and calming; your eyes locking onto one that looked a bit like a duck as Dean cradled your head in his lap.

“No, Y/N/N, please…” his voice cracked as he rubbed your cheek with his big thumb, feeling the cold already setting in.

You pulled away from the sky to look into his eyes one last time. You could feel the blood flowing, pouring out even as Sam pressed his giant hands to your stomach. “Dean…” you smiled as he leaned close, tears welling in his green eyes. “I love you.”

He shuddered and pressed his forehead to yours, jaw clenching as he tried to keep himself together.

Sam was shaking, pushing down on your wound, but all the pressure in the world couldn’t hold back the flood. It was too much. It was too late.

You reached for him, a weak hand rising to curl around his ear. “Sam, hey.”

He looked up, face masked with misery. “Y/N, I…”

“Come here.” Dizziness crept in as the sky burned bright white above, but Sam blocked the brightness as he leaned close.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whispered, lifting a bloody hand to your cheek.

“No, Sam.” A cough shook your body and you bit back a scream, determined to make it through one last word. “L-love you.”

It was raining again, but the flames took no notice.

Sam stood at Dean’s left, cheeks flooded with tears, hands stuffed deep in his pockets. His shoulders were tight and his body was slumped, somehow shrinking him down into a shell of a man instead of the giant hero he was. Grief was heavy. His heart even more so.

Dean was calm. He stood like a statue, eyes unblinking as the pyre consumed your body. He was tired of saying goodbye, tired of feeling the heartache of love lost too soon. It clawed at him from deep inside, shredding his soul with every speck of ash that floated to Heaven.

Sam broke the silence, speaking suddenly as if you could still hear him. His voice was strained and high as he choked around the tears. “Y/N, I… I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry we…”

“Don’t do that,” Dean spat, head shaking subtly.

“What?”

“Don’t apologize to her. This wasn’t your fault.”  

Sam let out a quick breath as anger began to brew. “It wasn’t yours either.”

Dean nodded. “I know.”

The fire crackled loudly and Sam turned back to the outline of your body.

“There’s no blame here,” Dean said, never looking away from the flames. “It’s not anyone’s fault, Sammy. Shit happens. She died how she wanted.”

“She didn’t want to die, Dean,” Sam snapped.

“No, but she knew she would some day.”

Sam grit his teeth. “Why are you being so calm about this?”

“I’m not.” His voice was too even, too slow, and the tears began to fall at last. “I loved her, Sam. Since the first moment I saw her. I feel...I feel like my heart’s been ripped out of my chest and is burning on that pyre right now. I…” He took a deep breath and licked the salt from his lip, eyes darting between the wood and ash. “I never told her. I could never fucking say it back.”

Sam broke again, letting go of the anger he felt at Dean’s apparent callousness and falling forward. He hit the ground and sank back, bringing his knees up to his chest like a little boy lost in a crowd. “She was…”

Dean looked down and back, nodding quickly. “I know, Sammy.”

“And she never asked for anything,” he went on, words tumbling from his shaking lips. “Never complained about what we were or what you guys were, never brought it up. It’s like...she was happy in the middle. Just to be there. She was she was always there. I should have told her. I should have said it. I…”

Dean took a breath and closed his eyes finally, lifting his face to the sky, letting the heat of the funeral flames lick at his cheeks. “She knew.”

“Did she?” Sam yelled. “Did she!”

Green eyes returned to the fire, barely able to make out your silhouette anymore. “She did, Sam. I know she did.”

They weren’t good with words.

Dean never figured out the things he wanted to say in the way he wanted to say them; substituting an ‘I Love You’ with a kiss on the forehead or a longing smile from afar.

Sam never said what he needed to; fear and doubt keeping his words locked deep inside. He would share his nightmares and wishes, hopes and heartache in quiet whispers in the dark, but ‘I Love You’ was too hard to touch.

They kept your picture in the Library; small framed snapshot tucked away on a shelf with the books you loved, a smile captured and kept forever.

They kept their ‘I Love Yous’ in that same Library, filed away under ‘Things We Never Said’.

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#spn fanfic #angst #dean x reader #sam x reader #one shot #fia challenge round1