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theladyofdeath · 3 years

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Life As We Know It {Chapter 22}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. Occasional surprise chapters could be posted at miscellaneous times. Chapters will be posted on both my and Shelby’s blogs! >> @snelbz

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Tara’s Masterlist

Cassian was happier than he ever thought he’d be.

Over the past few weeks, he, Nesta, and Nyx had really become their own little family. It seemed that after all the heartache, after all the awkwardness, everything was falling into place.

Since that night they had slept together, again, Cassian had spent every night with Nesta in her bed, and awoken to her face every morning.

Cassian had been training his replacement at the bar, and the opening of his bar in Nesta’s restaurant was quickly approaching.

Perfect.

Everything was going perfectly.

It was a Saturday and both he and Nesta had off, which meant they got the rarity of spending the entire day together, just the three of them.

And it was Halloween.

There was a little Halloween carnival going on downtown, just outside of the Rainbow along the Sidra.

And although Cassian was happier than he ever thought he’d be, he did feel completely and utterly ridiculous as he looked in the mirror and saw his reflection, dressed in the Halloween costume that Nesta had bought for him.

It could have been worse, he decided, donning the floppy hat it had come with. He didn’t have paint all over his face and he wasn’t dressed as a dog, like Rhys had been the year prior. Just a smidge of eyeliner Nesta had coerced him into letting her put on him. And he may only have one hand, thanks to the “hook” he had to wear, but at least he had a bad ass looking sword.

Even if it was plastic.

Nesta appeared in the doorway, wearing a green dress and matching slippers, complete with white balls of fluff adorning the toes. “You about ready to go, Captain Hook?”

He slowly turned to look at her. “Is it the hair? Hmm? Are you one of those girls where long hair automatically means pirate?”

Nesta raised a brow as she crossed her arms. “Are you complaining?”

Cassian blinked. “These leather pants are so tight that I don’t think my balls are going to survive the day.”

Nesta’s grin was feral. “I promise to make it up to the boys once we’re back home.”

Cassian’s eyes narrowed. “Tease.”

“Not a tease,” she crooned. “A promise.”

She gave him a wink before leaving the room and walking down the hall. After a curse about how turned on he now was, Cassian followed.

At the bottom of the stairs in the living room, Nyx was standing up in his little Peter Pan costume. Cassian laughed, quietly. “You put the poor kid in tights.”

“He looks adorable!” Nesta hollered, from where she had disappeared in the kitchen.

Nyx looked at Cassian for a moment, slightly confused, but then recognition lit his eyes and he giggled, reaching up for his uncle. The second Cassian picked him up, Nyx was playing with his floppy hat.

“Pretty damn cute, alright,” Cassian said, chuckling. “Ready, Nes? Bands start playing soon. A couple of local bands I know will be playing, I think you’ll like them.”

Nesta swept out of the kitchen with a tiny cooler bag full of water, juice, and snacks. “Then let’s get going.”

After a short ride and a short walk, they entered the carnival and spotted Elain, Azriel, and Seph sitting in the grass, listening to the music. Azriel was dressed as Tigger, Elain was Pooh, and Seph was the cutest Piglet they had ever seen.

Cassian plopped down by Azriel and chuckled. “And I thought my costume was bad.”

Azriel looked over at him. “Shut up, Captain Jack.”

Cassian gasped indignantly. “I’m Captain Hook, you heathen.” He held up his left hand and shook the cheap, plastic hook in his face. “Get your pirates straight.”

The cousins were instantly squealing at each other, Seph having recently started crawling and Nesta couldn’t help but smile down at them as she sat next to Cassian. He slung an arm around her and pulled her into him, kissing the top of her head.

Nesta looked at Elain and caught her small smile, even though she tried to turn away before her older sister caught her. “What?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

Elain shook her head, but that smile was still on her face. “Nothing.”

“Tell me,” Nesta said, leaning forward to see her around Cassian and Azriel.

“It’s just…” Elain blinked and Nesta could’ve sworn she saw tears shimmering in her sister’s eyes. “It’s just nice to see you happy.”

Nesta stilled for a moment. Was she happy? She supposed she was. It had all happened so quickly that Nesta hadn’t hardly realized.

She was happy.

Judging from his laughter with Azriel, and the way his fingers brushed along her skin, Nesta assumed that Cassian was happy, too.

“It’s a good thing, you know,” Elain whispered, when Nesta said nothing. “A very good thing.”

Nesta remained quiet, but she leaned into Cassian’s side with a little smile of her own.

The music began to play, and Nyx was having the time of his little life. He stood and danced, having no idea what was going on, but loving every second of it.

There were small tents set up around the carnival, passing out candy and other little toys and treats for the kids. Helion was there, at a tent sponsored by Nesta’s restaurant, handing out cookies and brownies she’d spent the past few days baking. Nesta had always loved Halloween, and having Nyx to enjoy it with made her love it all the more. They walked around while the bands continued to play, Nyx’s little bucket filling up with more candy and treats than the little boy could ever eat. Cassian ensured Nesta that it would not go to waste, but she just rolled her eyes.

“You know, I’ve always been a fan of Tinker Bell,” Cassian said, while they were eating candy apples.

Nesta looked at him, brow raised. “Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for Hook.”

Cassian chuckled, looking at Nyx while he nibbled on some goldfish that Nesta had packed in the cooler bag. “And what about Cassian?” Cassian asked. “Are you a fan of him?”

Nesta laughed, softly. “Are you asking me if I like you, Nazari?”

Cassian’s eyes lit with amusement. “I care about you, Nesta. That’s what I’m saying.”

The words she longed to say got stuck in her throat. The truth she’d wanted to tell him since his birthday over a month ago, when they’d finally succumbed to their desire for each other. But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t, not here, not right now, with strangers around them. Elain and Azriel weren’t far, but…

Something about those words. She wanted it just to be the two of them.

So Nesta chose to smirk instead, reaching over and rubbing caramel off his cheek. “You aren’t half bad, I guess.”

He sighed, dramatically, looking up into the sky. “I knew it, you’re only in it for the sex.”

“Cassian!” She blushed furiously, hoping no one had overheard him.

Grinning, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. Nyx threw a goldfish at them, hitting Cassian in the side of the face.

Nesta couldn’t stop her laughter as she pulled back.

Even after a month, Nyx didn’t like Cassian kissing her. The fit he threw the first time he’d seen them kiss on the couch while he was playing with his toys on the floor and they watched a movie would go down in history as the worst meltdown the two of them had seen.

Nesta thought his continued, but lessening, tantrums were hilarious. Cassian could only roll his eyes.

“Was that necessary?” Cassian asked.

“Da,” Nyx said, popping a goldfish into his mouth. It was the closest thing he’d come to yes thus far.

“He used to like me, you know,” Cassian said, looking at Nesta, “before the two of us were together.”

Nesta shrugged. “He’s protective, what can I say?”

“You can say, to him, that you like it when I kiss you,” Cassian replied.

Nesta laughed as Nyx threw another goldfish at Cassian. “He’s smart, Cass. He may be a baby, but he knows you’re talking smack over here.”

“I would never talk smack about a baby,” Cassian said, taking a bite of his caramel apple. “Even if it’s true.”

It wasn’t too much later that Nyx was falling asleep, his little, green cap long forgotten and tucked into the pocket of Cassian’s obnoxious coat. He gently rubbed Nyx’s back as he slept on the blanket they’d laid out on the lush grass. Footsteps and a groan alerted him to Azriel’s presence as he sat down next to Cassian. Seph, in a carrier strapped to his chest, had been asleep for nearly an hour already. Cassian couldn’t help but smile at his brother and niece.

“So you two are actually making this work, huh,” Azriel said, smiling down at Nyx.

Cassian’s laughter sounded as if even he had a hard time believing it. “I guess so. It’s just…so easy with her.”

“I get it. I completely get it,” Azriel said, looking at something over Cassian’s shoulder, and from the way his eyes softened, he knew his brother’s gaze had found Elain.

“I think she feels the same way,” Cassian said. “She’s hard to read, though. Easier than she used to be - thank the Mother - but sometimes… I just want to grab her by the shoulders and ask her what the hell is on her mind.”

Azriel snorted. “Nesta is…”

When he didn’t complete his sentence, Cassian raised an amused brow.

“An interesting woman,” Azriel finished, at last.

Cassian laughed, quietly. “Yeah, she is. But, that’s what I like about her. She’s not a surface-level person, you know? She’s like an onion.”

Azriel blinked. “An onion?”

Cassian nodded. “A lot of layers.”

Azriel laughed, quietly. “I would keep that one to yourself. Not sure how Nesta would feel about being called a vegetable that makes you cry.”

Cassian chuckled, and shrugged. “I think it sounds nice.”

Azriel grinned and looked down at Seph. “Do you see it working out long term, then?”

“You make it sound like a legal document,” Cassian replied, snorting.

Azriel shook his head. “Fine. I’ll ask it simpler, then. Do you love her?”

He hesitated. “It’s only been a month.”

“And?” Azriel asked. “You’ve lived together for half a year. You've known her for over five years.”

Cassian was quiet. He contemplated Azriel’s question, watching the gentle rise and fall of Nyx’s breathing. “I don’t know.”

“You still think Rhys and Feyre didn’t know what they were doing when they set you up all those years ago?”

Looking up at Azriel, Cassian wasn’t expecting to find him smiling softly. “I still think they were bat shit insane,” he chuckled. “But… No. I get it now. They… They just wanted to give us the chance to be as happy as they were.”

“And are you?” Azriel asked, curiosity on his face.

Cassian looked around, finding Nesta laughing with Elain and Mor and Emerie and Gwyn. The smile as he watched her wasn’t faked. “Yeah. I am.”

Azriel’s smile was as genuine as his own. “Then I think you know.”

It had been a good day, and an even better night.

Nyx fell asleep in his carseat on the way home, and Nesta had gotten him out of his costume and into a fresh diaper and pajamas without him hardly stirring. After that, when Nesta meandered into her bedroom, she found a half-dressed pirate with a mischievous glint in his eye. He had made a show of taking Nesta’s costume off with his hook, which had her unable to stop the wide smile, the giggling, that escaped her control.

It was all sweet, adorable play until his lips found her skin, and then Nesta’s giddiness faded away as complete euphoria took control of her body.

They laid together as Halloween faded away and November 1st approached. Nesta’s fingers danced over his bare chest.

“Today was a fun day,” she said, quietly, as she watched her fingers move along his tattoos.

“It was,” he murmured, already half asleep, his arm wrapped around her, tucking her into his side. He had spent most of his day chasing down Nyx, while Nesta had watched, a smile on her face, as Elain took picture after picture. She’d promised to email the best ones to Nesta as soon as she’d edited them.

She could tell Cassian was exhausted as she looked up into his handsome face, the eyeliner still smudged under his eyes. Sensing her gaze on him, he cracked an eye open and looked at her. “What?”

She shook her head, laying it back down on his chest. “You still have make-up on,” she chuckled.

“What?” He asked. “You don’t think I look pretty?”

Snorting, she nestled into his warm body, settling as his calloused fingers scraped over bare waist. She felt his lips press against the top of her head and in that moment, she realized that this was how it was supposed to be. Nothing had ever felt as…right as this did. As being with him did.

“Cass?”

He grunted in answer, and Nesta realized he was just about asleep.

She decided not to reveal the bit of truth she’d been about to, not when he very well might not remember it the next day.

Instead, she settled her head back on his chest, and said, “I had fun today.”

He mumbled something that sounded like me too, but within seconds, his breath had evened out, and he was asleep.

She wouldn’t reveal that bit of herself, not tonight. But tomorrow…

Tomorrow, she would tell him.

And she prayed he felt the same way.

It was hardly after eight when Nesta woke up and found Cassian beside her, in bed, with a sleeping Nyx on his chest. He was scrolling through his phone, his back propped up against the headboard, his sweatpants nearly blending into the navy blue comforter.

Nesta blinked a few times before she yawned and said, “Good morning.”

Cassian’s eyes darted away from his phone, to her. He smiled. “Good morning. Little man woke up about an hour ago. Fell asleep again five minutes ago or so. Apparently he got worn out yesterday.”

Nesta chuckled. “I’d say so.”

“I was going to put him in his crib but he seems comfortable,” Cassian said. “I can, though, if you want me to make breakfast.”

Nesta shook her head as she propped herself up on her elbows. “That’s okay. I can make breakfast. I was in a french toast type of mood.”

“Sounds good,” Cassian crooned, and Nesta reached up to kiss him, softly, before dragging herself out of bed. After slipping on some cozy shorts and one of Cassian’s oversized t-shirts, she was headed downstairs.

Sunday mornings were her favorite, nowhere for either of them to be. Just time together and time with Nyx. She was humming quietly to herself after she’d made a pot of coffee, pulling what she needed to make French toast and bacon out of the fridge when there was a sudden knock on the front door.

Nesta froze, listening to ensure she had in fact heard—

Another knock, just as insistent as the first.

“Was that the door?” Cassian was carrying Nyx downstairs, the baby’s pacifier barely staying in his mouth as he sleepily leaned his head on his uncle’s bare shoulder.

“Yeah,” she replied, eyebrows furrowing as she reached the door and opened it.

Nesta froze as she found Alis Birch on the other side.

“Ms. Archeron, good morning,” she said, eyeing her choice of attire.

“Ms. Birch, good morning. What a surprise,” she said, trying not to panic.

“I hope it’s a good time,” she said, looking past Nesta to see what chaos she could find. “This is the last of my surprise visits.”

“I see,” Nesta said, then cleared her throat as she stepped aside. “Come in, please.”

Alis did not need to be told twice. She swept past Nesta and into the foyer, where Cassian caught sight of her. He stopped as their eyes met, and he hesitated.

“Ms. Birch,” he said, as if it were a pleasant surprise. “Nice to see you again.”

“You too,” she said, looking at Nyx. “Big Halloween, was it?”

“Fun Halloween,” Cassian corrected. “We were at the carnival downtown for most of the day. He had a blast.”

Alis nodded, but said no more.

“Have a seat,” Nesta said, gesturing to the living room furniture. “Please.”

Alis sat in a chair while Cassian carefully and slowly sat back on the couch, Nesta sitting beside him.

Before anyone could say anything else, Alis said, “The two of you have become intimate.”

Nesta swallowed roughly while Cassian could only blink. After a moment, she collected herself. “I—We…”

“It’s fairly recent,” Cassian admitted, taking over when it was clear Nesta was floundering.

She wanted to demand how she could tell, but she was very clearly wearing his shirt while he wore nothing at all, aside from his sweats. They were cooking breakfast while the baby dozed. It was all so…domestic.

Alis would have been blind not to notice it.

She hummed once before opening her notebook and scribbling a few notes down. “The two of you have come a long way in a few months then, since you were barely even friends the last time I was here.” She threw Nesta’s own half-drunk words into their faces.

“Things have changed,” she breathed, yearning to reach over and take Cassian’s hand, but not wanting to look weak in front of the woman.

The woman who controlled whether or not they’d be keeping Nyx.

“So, this is not a fling, then?” Alis asked.

Cassian opened his mouth, but it was Nesta who politely said, “I’m sorry, but I’m not sure how our romantic life is an appropriate topic-.”

“Oh, it is most appropriate,” Alis assured them both. “If this is nothing but a fling, it could create a lot of drama in the home, which could in turn affect Nyx’s well being. However, if this is love, something that will become steadier day by day, then I could not be more overjoyed.”

You don’t sound overjoyed, Nesta wanted to say, but didn’t.

“We are aware that everything we do affects Nyx,” Cassian said, not unkindly. “We thought it through before we decided to get together.”

Nesta almost wanted to laugh. Thought it through? They hooked up twice, and the second time it stuck. She wasn’t sure that was exactly thinking it through. In fact, there hadn’t been much thinking at all.

It just kind of...happened.

Nyx had indeed lost his pacifier at some point and patted Cassian on the cheek.

“Babababa,” he chanted, which the two of them had learned meant he wanted his bottle and Cassian stood.

“Excuse me, I’ll be back,” he said, carrying Nyx into the kitchen.

Alis held Nesta’s stare, eventually asking, “Does Nyx have a support system, outside of the home?”

She blinked. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

Alis set down her pen and looked at Nesta as if she were the child in this situation. “Let’s say things don’t last. Let’s say whatever is between you and Mr. Nazari isn’t a love match and it falls apart. Aside from the two of you, does Nyx have other people who could step in to take care of him?”

“I don’t see why he would need it,” she replied, her voice cold. “Even if things don’t work out, Cassian and I will still take care of him. Nyx is our responsibility now. We love him.”

“And will you do that from one home?”

“We… I…” Nesta shook her head. “Ma’am, with all due respect, we haven’t even had time to figure out what exactly this is between us.”

Alis scooped up her bag and tucked her notebook against her chest as she stood. “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. And I’d like the two of you to have that figured out before my next visit. I’ll reach out a few days before, so you can expect me. But I’d like this…” She gestured around her, “situation to be more straightforward before I return.”

She turned and headed for the door.

When Cassian came back, Alis was gone. He blinked, Nyx now awake, downing his milk. “Where’d she go?”

“She left,” Nesta said, quietly. “She’ll let us know when she’s coming next time.”

Cassian’s brows furrowed as he sat next to Nesta on the couch. “What’s wrong?”

Nesta hesitated, then said, “I think she thinks that us getting together is a mistake.”

Cassian looked at Nesta for a moment, then snorted. “She also thought that us living together, unromantically, and raising Nyx was a mistake.”

Nesta said nothing as she watched her hands, quietly.

Cassian’s smile faded away. “What? You don’t think us getting together is a mistake, right?”

“No, of course not,” Nesta said, but it lacked passion.

Cassian watched her. “Nesta.”

“She brings up some good points, Cass,” Nesta breathed.

Cassian’s jaw ticked. “What does that mean?”

Nesta closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Well, what if we don’t work out? What will happen? We should at least have a plan.”

“You don’t think we’re going to work out?” Cassian asked.

“I don’t even know what we are, Cassian,” she breathed, opening her eyes, but continued staring at her hands. “Am I your girlfriend? Are we exclusive? Is this just what’s convenient for us both?”

Cassian was staring at her, unable to think of anything to say, barely able to understand what had happened in the past thirty minutes since he’d gotten out of bed. “This sure as hell isn’t just about convenience, not for me. But if it is for you, I guess I’d like to know now.”

She still didn’t look at him. “I don’t know, Cass.”

He had no idea what to say, no idea what to do. He shook his head. “I’m going to take Nyx on my jog with me. When we get back, you let me know if this is still convenient for you.”

His voice was colder than she’d heard it in months, barely recognized it as he silently made his way up the stairs. She didn’t move, could hardly think as she heard him get changed and then dress Nyx as well.

Her face fell into her hands.

This isn’t how she wanted the morning to go.

As she laid in bed with him the night before, listening to the steady beating of his heart after he fell asleep, she had a long list of things she wanted to say to him today, had a long list of emotions she wanted him to feel.

Pissed wasn’t one of them.

Unsure wasn’t one of them.

Nothing was going as planned.

It wasn’t until Cassian was carrying a babbling Nyx back down the stairs that Nesta looked up. Cassian wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Cass-,” she began, but he strode through the living room and out the door, the door closing just a little too hard behind him.

No, this wasn’t how she wanted the day to go.

She didn’t get to tell Nyx goodbye.

She didn’t get to tell Cassian goodbye, or any of the other things she had planned.

But maybe it was for the best. Maybe things would continue to fall into place, just not the place that she had planned.

Nesta sat back on the couch, her face falling back into her hands.

As the first tear fell, she wondered if this was a part of Feyre’s plan.

#nessian #fanfic #snacmc collab #snacmc lawki #nesta #cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #fanfiction #modern au

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heartsofbeskar · 3 years

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the red wolf

chapter four: breaker of chains

oberyn martell x named fem!reader

warnings: language, discussion of death, brief assault (not sexual)

words: 4.7K

a/n: hellooo, long time no update! thank you to everyone whos hung in there, im trying to get back into a more consistent routine with writing so fingers crossed 🤞🏻 you'll probably notice a change here; ive decided to make this story with a named reader, since there's already so much character that has to be molded from the family name — i'll still be keeping physical descriptions to a minimum but im more in the mindset of this being an OC from second person perspective! i hope this is okay 🥺❤️ let me know what you think!

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The bells rang out loudly.

The tolls chimed in your ears, piercing their hollows, echoing through to the inside of your head, settling uncomfortably behind your eyes. You could barely think.

The hands on your upper arms were tight, urgent, just shy of the edge of pain.

They rang the bells again. Why were they ringing the damn bells?

Pale skin, tinged purple and stretched unnaturally. Bloated with death and sick.

More bells.

Bodies pressed on you from all sides, but the same one remained behind you. It molded itself to your negative space, firm and warm and urging your clumsy feet forward — to where, you had little clue.

The piercing shrill of Cersei’s cry, her face twisted with rage and tears. Her mouth, spitting venom at her brother. At your sister.

There were no bells. The ringing was in your ears alone, you realized. Oberyn pushed you through a tall doorway.

The bells came to a stop.

——

The midday sun cast a warm glow over the study, highlighting the tones and patterns of the deep wood furniture. Uncovered windows let in the air that smelled of the garden plants and the sea, trickling through without a worry of a chill to those inside.

The man who sat at the desk was hunched over, his shoulders set with clear tension as the quill perched in his hand moved furiously over parchment. He didn’t spare a look back when you entered the room, his pace of writing not faltering.

You padded across the stone floor, quietly as you had been taught — proper highborn ladies never stomp nor drag their feet, Raya — but not so quiet as to sneak up on the man, almost certainly alerting him to your presence, though he still showed no signs of recognition. His hair, usually brushed and kept, was mussed, as if his hands had been running through it for the entire morning. Maybe they had been. You rested your hands gently atop his shoulders; his quill paused.

“I thought you might like to join me and Sansa for a meal in the gardens, Father.” You smoothed over the fabric of his shirt absentmindedly, trying not to let your eyes linger on the words you could see written in his hand on the wrinkled parchment. You felt his exhale of breath underneath your hands before he turned, placing one of his over yours with a weight that felt uncharacteristically heavy.

“My daughter,” he smiled up at you, but it didn’t feel genuine. The stretch of his skin was too tight across his face, the smile not the one you had known since childhood. “I’m afraid I cannot join you; but, I do need to speak with you.”

——

The walls of the room seemed to be in motion around you, shifting back and forth as if you were in some enchanted maze from the stories your mother had read to you as a small girl. You had loved those stories, begging her to let you listen when she later read them to Sansa, and then Arya in turn. Robb had teased you mercilessly for it.

You supposed you had always wished to submerge yourself in those stories, to enter a world so much more exciting and different from your own. You realized, now, how much better a boring life could be. Longing surrounded your heart for the monotonous days in Winterfell, filled with nothing but studies and sewing practice and dinner in the main hall.

A hard surface was underneath you. Reaching down, you felt the familiar legs and back of a chair. A lot was familiar, you realized; the walls finally began to still. This was your room. Oberyn had brought you back to your room. The entire journey across the gardens back to the Keep was a blur that had already leaked from your mind.

Oberyn was in your room.

The man in question kneeled in front of you now, brow furrowed in worry, bringing out the wrinkles that rimmed his eyes. You had the urge to reach out and run your fingers over them. Not to smooth them, but simply to revel in their texture.

“Raya,” he said softly, his accent gently coating your name.

His own fingers, tanned and strong, settled over your knee, thumb rubbing small circles over the skirt of your dress. It was a soft fabric, dyed a rare hue of muted gold that you had never seen the likes of in the North. Fabrics were rarely dyed there— the resources needed were too out of reach and the early sunsets rendered the brilliant colours less spectacular.

“Are you alright?” Oberyn continued. His dark eyes were focused on yours, intense and deep. You wished you could fall into them, leave behind the cruel worlds of King’s Landing and Westeros with men who killed fathers in front of their own daughters’ eyes. Was Dorne a world like this? You found yourself longing to investigate the home he often spoke so fondly of.

“Sansa.” Your own voice was choked and alien to your ears, clawing its way out of your throat with a rasp and surprising you. You swallowed thickly. “I need to find her, she—”

“She’s gone, little wolf,” Oberyn replied, his other hand coming to provide a heavy weight on your shoulder as you tried to rise from the chair. The muscles of your legs shook when you tried to use them. “She fled the wedding. If she knows what is best for her, she is far from here already.”

You shook your head violently, feeling some of your hair come loose from its intricate arrangement your handmaiden had crafted that morning, laying onto the back of your neck. “Oberyn, you don’t understand—”

“I do, I—”

“You don’t!” Your yell echoed across the room, filling the space. Tension settled around Oberyn’s features. He squeezed your knee. “They’ll kill her, they won’t even hesitate to take her head and parade it through the streets like a circus act! The Lannisters killed my father because he knew their secrets, Oberyn … he knew and he told me, and they took his head for it.”

Your vision was clouded by tears and your voice shook as you finished. Your chest heaved, flushed where the adorned neckline exposed your skin. Oberyn’s eyes moved slowly downwards before they rested on his own hand. The sun that streamed low through the window glinted off of the gold of his rings. He didn’t look back up at your face when he spoke.

“I know the horrors that family is capable of.” He spoke softly and guilt twisted in your gut. Of course he did. “They ordered the butchery of my sister, and her infant children. I have never forgotten the day I heard the news.”

You opened your mouth. For what, you weren’t even sure. An apology? The blame for the atrocities of the Lannisters did not sit on your shoulders, this you knew. But you felt it all the same. Before you could speak, Oberyn’s hand rose to cup your cheek. It was warm where it sat on your skin, and you exhaled in relief as you leaned into it.

“I cannot imagine having to see such horror in person.” His tone was steady but serious. You thought maybe — possibly — you heard a subtle tinge of venom on his tongue. “As for what your father knew … it is the truth we all know but dare not speak inside these walls, little wolf.”

Again, you shook your head, slowly this time. You laid your hand over his, anchoring it to your skin.

“She told him,” you whispered, as if the walls themselves had ears to listen. “Cersei did. From her own mouth, he heard it to be true. From that moment … it was as if he was a dead man even as he still drew breath.”

There was a long pause as Oberyn seemed to process your words. His thumb brushed over your cheek, wiping away a wet trail of tears that you hadn’t even realized was there. You were struck in this moment by how close he was. It wasn’t the first time, but every time felt as if it were. His lips, still red stained from the wedding wine, were so close to yours. Your breath intermingled in the small space between.

“They will have sealed the city by now,” he finally said. His eyes finally met yours again. He leaned forward only slightly, coming to rest his forehead on yours. “With any luck, Sansa is already outside of the walls. But if she is here, rest assured I will find her. And I will keep you safe.”

He closed the remaining space between you with an unhurried, gentle press of his lips. You closed your eyes, relishing in the feel of him, fisting your hands in the loose fabric of his overcoat. You inhaled, as if you could bring him inside of you by his breath, and consume the quiet strength he seemed to possess. It was short, and soon he pulled back, but stayed close enough that his nose brushed against yours.

His eyes, dark and serious, bore into yours once more. They seemed to convey everything that did not — could not — be translated into words. It felt as if you were diving off of one of the many tall and imposing cliffs that lined King’s Landing’s shores, crashing head first into the cool waters. You did not want to come back to land.

“Do not repeat this to anyone, little wolf.”

——

Your hands shook at your sides as your feet glided over the cobblestones, a gentle wind rustling your skirt to one side. You could feel the cool air whenever the hem lifted off of the ground, as it slipped underneath and kissed the bare skin of your legs. You had forgotten your slip when you dressed yourself this morning, dismissing the confused handmaiden who had stood at your door shortly after you woke. It was silly — she seemed like a sweet girl — but you couldn’t find it in you to trust her, despite her persistent attempts to do her job in tending to you. And beyond that, you had been in no mood to be tended to.

It reminded you too much of when you’d aided Sansa and Arya when they were young, insisting on helping to raise and care for your sisters whenever possible. Now they were both lost to you, drifting in the world alone and isolated. Or, in another possibility, they were—

No, you stopped your thoughts. You would not even entertain other possibilities.

It was nearing high noon, and the sun had risen far up into the sky, your shadow all but disappearing under the direct light. You didn’t even know how many days it had been since the wedding. Since the King’s death. Since he’d lain on the dirty ground, in his own mother’s arms, and choked on his own breath until he was blue in the face, skin grotesquely bulging in a way so unnatural that it haunted your dreams now — and you suspected it would haunt them forever.

The dawns had been blurring hurriedly into dusks, blurring in turn into the next dawn, and it was impossible for you to count their passings. You slept sporadically, waking covered in sweat and heaving as if you’d run the length of the walls of Winterfell, as Bran used to do. You’d been thinking of all of them even more lately. Of your sisters. Of Rickon, and Jon, too. Of Robb the most. His gentle smile, his steady presence, the one that had accompanied you since you were both in your mother’s womb. You would never have that again.

The burning hole that the loss of your family had caused in your chest was deeper now than it ever was.

With your head so lost in days of the past, you failed to notice a figure approaching at the edge of the path — until it was upon you.

You were whirled and shoved backwards, feet tripping over the uneven stones until your back made contact with a solid wall. Cooler than the heat of the day, you had been pushed into one of the many alcoves that lined the Keep’s walls, the arched entrances giving way to shadowed corners where one could find relief from the sun bearing down upon them. But there was no relief to be found for you here.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you drew a gasping breath as weight pressed down onto the front of you, pinning your breasts painfully down. Reeling, you willed your eyes to open and focus on what — or rather, who — was in front of you.

A golden hand swam into the edge of your vision, and ice ran through your blood at the sight of it.

Jaime Lannister loomed over you, mouth twisted to marr the features that were praised far and wide as classically handsome. His eyes were dark, shadowed and deep set, and burning with a rage you could never begin to understand. You knew in your own heart that what your father had told you was true — what you saw was a deep hurt and anger of a father grieving his son.

You dared not voice this aloud, even if you could have.

His lip snarled even further upwards as he spoke.

“You little Stark bitch,” he spat at you. His living hand tightened where it had a grip on your arm. The fabric bunched around it, the seam on your shoulder digging into your skin with the increased tension. “You walk around our halls, eat our food, sleep under our roof.”

“P—please,” you choked out. He shook you, your back grating against the stone of the wall. The braid you had half heartedly put together that morning gave way, pieces falling out and down to frame your face. It burned where the bare skin of your back was exposed and subsequently scraped.

“If I had my way, I would have your head on a spike.” His eyes burned into you, and you felt tears well in your own. You willed them by all the Gods you knew not to fall; not to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was terrorizing you. “But first, I would force you to watch as I mounted your sister’s. I’d bet that pretty red hair would look good with the blood dripping from her neck.”

You said nothing, the fear of provoking him further roiling in your gut. Would he kill you here, so close to the light of day? Leave your body in this alcove for the next passing figure to find? You thought that if you even opened your mouth, you would surely vomit.

The flesh of his hand left your arm, but before you could find a moment of relief, it quickly rose to ensnare your neck, stoking panic anew inside you. Despite the heat of his words, the blazing anger that was laced in them, his skin was cold, and you failed to suppress a shiver at the contact.

“I— I did not—”

“You Northern half-wits have had it over on me one too many times for my liking, and I—”

“Jaime! Cease this foolishness at once!” A stern voice cut through the air, slicing a wedge between you and the enraged man. His hand dropped from you as if he’d been burned by your skin. You sputtered with the sudden release of pressure to your throat, hurrying to cover your mouth and dab away at the tears that had leaked unbidden from the corners of your eyes.

Tywin Lannister reached out a steady arm and grabbed roughly at the back of his son’s robes, yanking him — mercifully — further away from you. You would’ve felt gratitude, except for the fact that you were sure he was most angry that his son had chosen such a public and easily accessible venue to lash out at you. Had he accosted you in the privacy of one of your chambers, where prying eyes were blind to closed doors, you know he would not have been so quick to come to your rescue.

“You idiot boy,” he continued. If Jaime’s words were vicious, his father’s were pure venom, still dripping from the fangs of a snake within striking distance. “You would put your hands on your future wife in the open air? Make accusations of treason against her where any gossip can overhear? Have you no sense at all?”

“Future wife?” Jaime bristled on this particular detail. “Even if I was to betray the oath I took to the Kingsguard, I would not do it for some scheming, murderous little bi—”

Before the final expletive could leave his mouth, a sharp smack rang out through the air. You jerked back, as if you had been the one Tywin had just slapped. Jaime, cheek utterly reddened, seemed to freeze to the spot in which he stood, jaw slackened, eyes cast down to the dirt at his feet.

“Nothing about this has changed,” Tywin’s words seemed to burn the air now, leaving a charred path towards his son. It was as if you could feel the heat of them. “You will marry her, and you will produce heirs with a claim to the North, as we discussed. Is that clear?”

Jaime could do little else but nod, thoroughly embarrassed and undressed by his father. He didn’t look at you, and you were glad for it. His hand, hanging by his side now, shook now — with anger or fear, you could not be sure. Perhaps it was both.

“Go.” Without another word of protest, he rushed to leave, adjusting the length of his clothes where they had been disturbed by Tywin’s grip. Your body sagged, releasing the last of its tension that you hadn’t even realized you held on to as you watched his retreating figure. His head remained hung low, no doubt to hide the colour in his face.

You expected Tywin to make his leave shortly after his son, but he stayed, turning more fully towards you. He stood at the edge of the alcove, the shadow of the arch bisecting his aged and pinched face. He appeared more tired than when you had last seen him.

“If I find out you had any hand in the death of my grandson,” he spoke to you in an even tone, matter of factly. Somehow, it felt worse than Jaime’s passionate anger. “I will personally arrange for your execution. Walk with me.”

He extended a hand — sheathed in a black leather glove — in front of you. Nothing about it gave any clue that he had just presented a threat to your life. You knew it was not an optional request. Despite the wave of repulsion inside you, you reached out and grasped it, allowing him to pull you completely upright once more.

Tywin said nothing more as he walked alongside you, half a pace ahead to steer you in his desired direction. You passed servants and maids, hurrying back and forth to fulfill the duties of the day. Knights and guards, some marching in regimented steps while others stood watch over their designated areas. Nobles and merchants, enjoying the warmth of the sunwashed day, strolling with languid paces. All of them looked to you as you proceeded, clear suspicion written over their features. Did she have a hand in the King’s murder?

You wanted to yell, cry out, shove the truth in the face of everyone. You, who had done everything the Lannisters had asked of you since leaving Winterfell. You, who had stood by and watched as they’d first killed your sister’s loyal direwolf and then your own father. You, who Tywin Lannister freely moved as a pawn about his personal political chessboard. You, who had stepped not a toe over their lines, and yet were still suspected of the most egregious of crimes because of the name you carried.

You wished that you had done the things they imagined.

You recognized that you were being led on a route to Tywin’s own office. Your insides churned at the sight of the large, wooden doors, as they loomed in front of your vision. You recalled the last time he had summoned you here. You are a virgin, yes? The conversation echoed in the recesses of your mind, filling the space that had yet to be occupied by Joffrey’s face in death. So caught up in the moments past, you didn’t see the other figure in the office until you had almost reached him.

Oberyn had stood upon your entrance to the room, lips parted in a similar sense of surprise at seeing you enter with the lord. His hand lingered on the back of the decorated chair he’d been waiting in, fingers spread over the ornate peaks and valleys of the wood, adorned with all his usual rings. He wore a robe that was familiar to you, with brilliant red Martell suns sewn into the stunning colour of the fabric. But more striking was the absence of underclothes, the deep vee falling open to reveal his naked tanned chest, before it was secured at his waist with a golden belt. A trail of dark hair crossed the plane of his skin, leading down past where you could see. You had the undeniable urge to see just how far down the trail of hair went, and you struggled to pull your eyes back to his face.

“Prince Oberyn,” Tywin announced. He strode around his grand desk, scattered with parchements, settling into the chair. He began to make neat piles on the wooden surface. You knew that he wasn’t the least bit surprised to find the man here. Avoiding Oberyn’s eye contact, you took a small step back, reaching for the door handle as a way to excuse yourself. “Lady Stark— please, stay.”

You moved to sit in the unoccupied chair, as it was clear you were not dismissed. Oberyn waited for you before cautiously sitting again. “I’m sorry about your grandson.”

The older man’s eyes narrowed shroudly, finally looking back up towards the two of them. With a bitter laugh in your head, you thought it felt almost the same as when you and Robb would be pulled into Ser Rodrik’s armoury to be dressed down for another bout of antics. Almost. “Are you?”

“I don’t believe that a child is responsible for the sins of their father. Or his grandfather.” Oberyn’s brow twitched upwards. You weren’t sure if only you noticed. “An awful way to die.”

In your lap, hidden from Tywin’s view, your hands clenched into fists.

“Which way is that?”

Oberyn’s eyes slid quickly over to you before settling back on Tywin. “Are you interrogating me, Lord Tywin?” When he did not answer, “Some believe the King choked.”

The image of Joffrey’s purpled face surged to the forefront of your mind. Even with your limited experiences, it was hard for you to believe he’d died of something as innocuous as choking on his pigeon pie. The idea was on the edge of comical.

“Some believe the sky is blue because we live inside the eye of a blue-eyed giant.” You didn’t miss how Tywin’s eyes briefly flickered to you.

“The King was poisoned,” Oberyn asserted. Your head snapped to him in surprise.

“I think I should go, my Lords,” you tried to insist.

“Sit,” Tywin snapped, before you could do little more than rise from your seat. His gaze returned to the man beside you. “I hear you studied poisons at the Citadel.”

That was new information to you. You suspected Tywin knew as much.

“I did,” Oberyn nodded. “This is why I know.”

Tywin leaned forward onto his elbows. “You arrive at the capital, an expert in poisoning. Some days later, my grandson dies of poisoning. Rather suspicious.”

“Why haven’t you thrown me in a dungeon?”

Tywin bypassed the question entirely. “You spoke with Tyrion in Littlefinger’s brothel on the day you arrived. What did you discuss?”

“You think we conspired together?”

Again, he ignored Oberyn’s question. “What did you discuss?”

“The death of my sister.”

You drew in a shallow breath.

“For which you blame me.” It was a statement, not a question. Tywin sat back once more, hands braced against the edge of the desk. “She was raped and murdered by the Mountain.”

“The Mountain follows your orders,” Oberyn said simply. “Of course I blame you.”

Tension seeped into the room, spreading out among the three of you. The air seemed to haze with it.

“Here I sit, Prince Oberyn, unarmed and unguarded. Should I be concerned?” Despite his words, Tywin seemed at ease. You knew he would not be so careless as to place himself in a room alone with a man whom he truly believed would kill him.

“You are unarmed and unguarded because you know me better than that. I am a man of reason.” Oberyn shrugged. “If I cut your throat today, I will be drawn and quartered tomorrow.”

A pause. Then, “Men at war commit all kinds of crimes without their superior’s knowledge.”

“So you deny involvement in Elia’s murder?”

Tywin waved a hand through the air, as if they were discussing the afternoon weather. “Categorically.”

“I would like to speak with the Mountain.” Oberyn’s face was hard, more serious than you had become accustomed to. But you supposed much had changed in a short amount of time.

“I’m sure he would enjoy speaking with you.”

“He might not enjoy it as much as he thinks he would.”

For a moment, Tywin seemed to ponder on it, though surely he already knew what he was going to say. “I could arrange for this meeting.”

“But you want something in return.”

“There will be a trial for my son.” He spoke as if he wished he could do away with such a formality. “And, as custom dictates, three judges will render a verdict. I will preside. Mace Tyrell will serve as the second judge. I would like you to be the third.”

It was fruitless to comment on how a trial presided over by the victim’s grandfather and father-in-law seemed far from impartial.

“Why?”

“Not long ago, the Tyrells sided with Renly Baratheon. Declared themselves enemies of the throne.” His eyes slid to you again for a brief moment before he continued. “Now they are our strongest allies.”

“Well, you made the Tyrell girl a queen. Asking me to judge at your son’s trial isn’t quite as tempting.”

“I would also invite you to sit on the Small Council to serve as one of the new king’s principal advisors.”

Oberyn’s mouth upturned into a slight smile — but it was not the one you were used to seeing, rather much colder and more ingenious. “I never realised you had such respect for Dorne, Lord Tywin.”

“We are not the Seven Kingdoms until Dorne returns to the fold. The King is dead. The Greyjoys are in open rebellion. A wildling army marches on the Wall. And in the east, a Targaryen girl has three dragons. Before long, she will turn her eyes to Westeros. Only the Dornish managed to resist Aegon Targaryen and his dragons.”

A wildling army. Three dragons. Your head spun as you tried to take in as much of Tywin’s quick words as you could. You wondered why he was divulging so much with you here — you knew nothing the older man did was accidental.

“You’re saying you need us? That must be hard for you to admit.”

“We need each other. You help me serve justice to the King’s assassins, and I will help you serve justice to Elia’s.”

As they sealed their agreement, Oberyn refused to meet your eyes.

🐍

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chasing-classics · 4 years

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Addicted to the Odds- Fezco x Reader

Pairing: Fezco x Reader

Warning(s): Smut, mentions of drug addiction, angst, language

Summary: You are an addict and it is indirectly Fez’s fault. Out of nowhere, your dealer refuses to sell to you anymore and you have a gut feeling Fez is the reason for it. You confront him and angst/smut ensues.

‘’What do you mean you don’t have any?’’ you all-but growled out from the screen door of your dealer’s run-down house.

‘’Like I said, ma. I don’t got any for you anymore,’’ he replied, taking a hit of his bong and refusing to look you in the eye.

‘’Nothing? OxyContin, fentanyl-‘’

‘’Nothing. Nada. Zip,’’ he cut you off.

You huffed, narrowing your eyes as you shifted your weight to your right-hand side. You ran a hand through your hair, trying to keep a level head. For the past year-and-a-half you had been an addict. It all began when you attended a party with your best friend Cassie. She had just recently began seeing McKay and it was through one of his intense parties you met Fezco. The ginger-haired man caught your attention immediately. He was beautiful, in his own way. At the time, you had only dealt with weed and various fruity drinks. You were a good, kind-hearted girl. You did well in school and were well-liked by everyone. That was the thing about addiction; nobody ever strives to be an addict. It starts with one hit, then slowly crawls to another, then another, and another. You don’t realize you’re addicted until it’s too late, and by then the claws of addiction were already too deeply imbedded in your skin.

You wanted to let loose, have a good time. You wanted to fit into Fez’s world. ‘’Come on, Y/N get the stick out of your ass and live a little,’’ you remembered Nate Jacobs smirked down at you. That was the push you needed, you were embarrassed to admit. It sounded like a bad health class lecture, ‘’don’t give into peer pressure’’ and all that jazz. You remembered approaching Fez, his eyes trailing up and down your body with interest. That was the first night of the rest of your life as an addict. The moment you downed the OxyContin pill with a bottle of Hennessy, your life changed forever. All to get the attention of a boy who probably only saw you as another client. You ended up finding a different dealer because it became too difficult to continue going to Fez, who you had fallen for only to feel the sting of embarrassment when you realized he was never going to see you the same way you saw him. And that’s your story; became a fucking drug addict by the age of seventeen because you had a crush on a drug dealer who you had a handful of conversations with in the past nearly two years.

‘’Did Fez put you up to this?’’ you hissed. Your dealer’s silence was all the confirmation you needed.

‘’Fez! Open the door!’’ you yelled, banging on his front door.

You knew Ashtray probably alerted his older brother of your arrival, but it didn’t stop you from marching to the front door. Every second that Fez took to answer the door felt like hours, sweat dripping down your body as the withdrawals were hitting you. Just when you were about to raise your fist to knock again, the door opened and the man in question was right in front of you. He towered over you, his green eyes taking you in and you could’ve kicked yourself for the butterflies you felt in your tummy.

‘’Y/n?’’ he questioned.

‘’Why did you do it? Cut off my supply?’’ you crossed your arms over your chest, your whole body fidgeting.

‘’I dunno what you’re talking about,’’ you could tell he was lying when he couldn’t look you in the eyes.

‘’Bullshit. You talked to my dealer, I know you did. Why?’’ you took a step towards him to the point if you puffed your chest up your breasts would brush against his chest.

‘’You need help, y/n,’’ he was about to head back inside when you forced your way in.

‘’You’re one to talk Fez! You sold me the drugs at McKay’s party! You got me into this life! God, I’m so fucking stupid,’’ you cried out, running your hands through your hair in frustration. You ceased and straightened yourself out, glaring at Fez.

‘’I wanted so badly to be in your life. For you to notice me,’’ you whimpered.

Fez stood in front of you, an unidentifiable expression on his face. He took a step towards you, reaching out for you only for you to take a step backwards. He nodded, taking in a shaky breath,

‘’I did notice you. Fuck, man. I noticed you the moment you walked into that party. You were full of life, but still shy. You brought this fucking light around you everywhere you went, ma. And when you came up to me to buy some pills, I wanted to say no. I should’ve said no. But I wanted an excuse to talk to you or see you again,’’ he confessed.

You didn’t notice the tears until you felt them roll down your cheeks. You swiped them away, your heart beating furiously in your chest. You turned around and left, the sound of the screen door slamming ringing in your ears as you ran.

Rehab took a lot out of you. You often questioned your decision to enter the facility, but the desire to retake control outweighed the desire to feel numb. 90 days felt like 90 years, but you were able to take the next step in your rehabilitation. Another three months passed and the light slowly but surely began to show in your eyes.

It had taken a lot of you, but when you were able to celebrate your twenty-first birthday with your old high school friends, it was all worth it.

Cassie had convinced you to go out for one night. No drugs, only drinks if you were sure you could handle it. After two years sober, you were aware of your boundaries. You knew you could still go out and live a normal life, you just had to be careful in order to avoid a relapse. So here you were, celebrating your sobriety and your birthday. Maddy, Lexi, BB, and Kat were more than happy to come along and catch up. As you laughed and enjoyed your party, your face fell when your e/c hues locked with all-too familiar green ones. Fez was in the back of the club, talking to Rue and nursing his beer.

You prayed you wouldn’t regret this, but you excused yourself from your friends and headed to the restroom. Thankfully, nobody else was in there as you leaned against the porcelain sink, staring deeply into your reflection. You sighed as your eyes analyzed every inch of you. You looked great, you felt great, so why did you feel so empty?

The creak of the bathroom door didn’t cause you to look away, but the strong hands on your waist sure did. You jumped slightly until the smell of cologne and weed hit your nostrils.

‘’Fez,’’ you breathed quietly, suddenly becoming more self-conscious despite you looking like sex-in-high-heels.

He didn’t respond, just pressed his face into the back of your neck. You felt the hardness that was his dick press into the small of your back. You sighed in content, his hands trailing up and down your exposed arms.

‘’I’m sorry,’’ he whispered. You blinked away the tears, shaking your head as he looked up so that your two reflections were looking at each other.

‘’Please,’’ you didn’t know what you were asking for, but Fezco did.

He turned you around and slowly took in your face before capturing your lips in a long overdue kiss. It was Heaven and Hell, passion and sin, all together in that one kiss. The past four years replayed throughout your mental as you pulled him closer to you as your hands were on his chest and running through his shaved head. His hands gripped your waist as your tongues fought for dominance. You lost and moaned into his mouth when he nipped at your bottom lip before his tongue entered your mouth. The moan that erupted from his throat when you sucked on his tongue encouraged your hands to trail down and your hand to grip his hardened cock through his pants.

That was all it took for him to pull away, shoving your lace panties down to your ankles and spread your legs as he pinned you against the bathroom wall. Anyone could have walked in and that thought alone caused you to become slick. Fez groaned when he pressed a calloused hand to cup your pussy.

‘’F-Fez,’’ you whined, hands going underneath his shirt to grip his shoulders and claw at his back.

‘’Fucking beautiful,’’ he breathed as he looked down at you.

You didn’t even notice that he had taken his dick out of his pants until you felt the swollen head at your tight entrance. You looked up at Fez, engraving the look of pure desire and adoration on his face. He raised his eyebrows, as if asking one last time if this was ok. You nodded and couldn’t prevent the high-pitched whine that erupted from you as he entered you in one swift thrust. He grunted when he was fully sheathed in your tightness, hands gripping your thighs as you were pinned against the dingy walls of the restroom and impaled on his throbbing cock.

‘’Fez, please. Move I need to feel you,’’ you whimpered, fingernails clawing at his muscular back.

‘’Fuck baby,’’ he groaned as he slowly pulled back, only to snap his hips forward. Your cries fueled him, egging him on as he gained momentum. The sight of you, looking like something out of the cover of a magazine, taking his dick in this grimy bathroom in this shabby club. The fact that something so beautiful could want him, let alone cry out his name as he fucked into your tight pussy. The sight of his angry cock disappearing into your drenched folds. The revelation that you still loved him just as he still loved you. It was almost too good to be true.

You moaned when one of his hands yanked down the front of your dress to release your tits so that he could watch them bounce from the force of his thrusts. You closed your eyes and threw your head against the wall when his mouth latched onto one of your breasts and began nipping and sucking at your bud. His thrusts were rough and unforgiving and you could hear the slaps of your skin echoing in the dimly lit room.

‘’You’re so tight for me, ma,’’ he groaned, his facial hair tickling the soft skin of your breasts.

The tip of his thick manhood reached that special spot inside of you, causing you to cry out his name and clutch the back of his head. He focused on hitting that specific spot, succeeding over and over again. You could do nothing but moan out Fez’s name and hold onto him and take whatever he chose to give you. The feeling of being full of him and belonging to him was too much.

‘’I’m going to cum, Fez,’’ you panted, tears at the corner of your eyes as your walls began clamping around his thickness.

‘’Cum for me, mama. Milk my dick,’’ he grunted, hips pounding you into the wall. While one of his hands still held onto your thigh the other trailed to the side of your face and gently held your jaw, forcing you to look up into him as he took you, ravaged you. His dirty words and the strong grip on your face combined with the lust swirling in his beautiful green hues was too much. You came with a scream of his name, his thumb in your mouth muffling your cries only slightly as you felt your juices coat him and in between your thighs.

‘’I fucking love you,’’ he hissed, pressing his forehead against yours’ as he sloppily thrusted a few more times before you felt the warmth of his load crept up into the depths of your body.

All you could do was hold each other; your legs wrapped around his waist. Your heels still on as his cum began dripping from your sore pussy. Eventually both of your breathing relaxed and you pressed a kiss to his lips. He kissed you back, looking down once more to watch his release drip out of you and his dick slowly slide out of you. He kissed you again before helping you down.

‘’I’m sorry,’’ he whispered.

You cupped his face with your hands, offering him a small smile.

‘’I know. Just hold me.’’

You didn’t know what the future held for the two of you. You didn’t think a house with a white picket fence and two darling children was in your future with Fez, if you even had a future with him. The odds weren’t in your favor, but the same could’ve been said about the seventeen-year-old girl who was addicted to OxyContin and fentanyl. They said you wouldn’t make it to see your twenty-first birthday. The dusty clock that read 12:01 AM proved them all wrong. Maybe you and Fez could too.

#fezco x reader #fezco imagine #fez x reader #euphoria fic #euphoria smut #fezco x reader smut #angus cloud #angst #Smut #fez smut

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waywardrose13 · 3 years

Text

Deliverance From Evil

Pairing: DARK!Dean Winchester x Reader (?), Sam x Reader (platonic)

Word Count: 11,054

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING: Non-con, rape, physical and mental/emotional abuse. Ages 18+, virgin!reader, language, mentions of depression/anxiety, curse, purgatory, purgatory!Dean, hateful remarks, negative self image, mentions of suicidal thoughts, not enough editing to satisfy me. Please let me know if I missed any triggers/warnings.

Rating: Mature- 18+!! If I find that you are under 18, you will be blocked. Go read some of my minor friendly stories.

Summary: Dean Winchester had two sides; the selfless, caring man who loved his baby brother, car, and pie; and the cruel, sadistic man who was hell bent on making Y/n’s life a living hell. When Dean, Cas, and Y/n are sucked into Purgatory, things take a turn for the worse. Two years later, Y/n finds herself face to face with the man who broke her. A new discovery leads to Y/n finding out the truth, yet sometimes, the truth is better left unsaid.

A/N- This story is very dark and can be triggering to some readers. Please do not read if any of the above warnings are triggering to you. I have also listed some resources below if you are in need of help. I love you all!

Bingo squares: @spndarkbingo (Purgatory!Dean) // @badthingshappenbingo (This is for your own good) // @spndeanbingo (Soulmates AU)

U.S. National Sexual Violence Hotline: 800.656.4673

U.S. National Domestic Abuse Hotline: 800.799.7233

The idea of Purgatory wasn’t what put me on edge. It wasn’t the monsters constantly down your throat, or the blood, sweat, and tears that somehow never seemed to stop. It was Dean Winchester’s sinister stare and cruel remarks that put me on edge.

I didn’t hate the man. If I was being honest, I felt quite the opposite, but it was more of a feeling of distress. Ever since meeting him, something about me had made him loathe me. I wasn’t sure what it was, nor have I ever asked, but whatever it is, I have never been able to make him at least tolerate me.

Sam and I had met in college. I was a freshman when he was a senior, and he tutored me for a while. We became friends, and soon we found out the both of us had gone to college to escape the hunting life. We grew apart for years, naturally coming back together on a hunt.

I had been at the bunker with the Winchesters ever since, much to the elder brother’s dismay. And ever since then, Dean had made it his job to make my life a living hell.

It started out as small jabs at me; little comments that had an underlying, cruel meaning to them. Or forgetting to pick me up from police stations, houses, etc, or not bringing back food for me. But slowly, it evolved into something more. He began openly being cruel towards me, saying things that made me cry in bed at night. He’d shove me when Sam wasn’t looking, he’d purposely break my things, bleach my clothes, point out my insecurities for a laugh.

I honestly thought the bullying ended in high school.

I hadn’t fallen in love with the person he was towards me. I had fallen in love with the person he was to others. He was selfless and caring. He was brave, intelligent, and had a killer sense of humor. And the simple sight of him made me weak at the knees. But whenever his words were spoken to me, or his glare was pointed at me, I sometimes forgot who he was when he wasn’t hating me.

Something must have been wrong with me. How could I love a man who was so ruthlessly callous to me? Although I had tried to stop the feelings, it was like an inexplicable pull vehemently caused me to fall into a confusing love with this man. It was unstoppable, and however much I prayed or wished for it to leave, the feeling never ceased.

“Hey, Y/N!” I jumped as Dean barked at me, and I snapped myself out of it, looking towards him. “Get your head out of the damn clouds and move your ass.”

I sighed, hoisting my makeshift bag onto my shoulder, trudging after him and Benny.

After Dean killed Dick Roman, he, Cas and I were swallowed into Purgatory along with the Leviathan, too close to the impact sight, apparently. I immediately knew I was fucked when Dean looked at me dead in the eyes when we landed and told me he’d rather go to hell than be stuck with me in a place like this.

“We need her, Dean,” Cas had said. Dean had rolled his eyes, scoffing.

“We need her like we need the plague, Cas,” he snarled. I flinched at his words, and I closed my eyes for a moment to keep the tears at bay. “I mean for fucks sake.”

“Look, the way I see it, I don’t care if you hate her, but we need all the help we can get. And she’s a good hunter despite everything else you, for some reason, hate about her.”

It was the first time someone had stood up for me. It wasn’t long, however, before Dean and I were on our own, Cas seemingly taking off after a particularly rough fight. He ignored me the whole time, not saying any words to me, but using his shoulder to roughly shove me out of his way from time to time. The way I saw it, he wasn’t verbally abusing me anymore. I could manage a few shoves.

When Benny joined our team of two, Dean began speaking again, and we continued the search for Cas.

So here we were now, walking through the dense forest of Purgatory, eyes and ears constantly alert. It was like the start of a bad joke; two hunters and a vampire walk through purgatory…

“Don’t mind him, Cher,” Benny murmured to me. “He’s in a mood.”

“He’s always in a mood around me, Benny,” I said. “Nothing I do will ever change that.”

“Benny, quit gossiping with her and get over here,” Dean said, voice hushed. He was crouched down over the edge of a cliff, Benny and I making our way to crouch on either side of him. Dean shot me a dirty look, and he turned slightly towards Benny.

“What is it?” The vampire asked. Dean nodded his head to the valley at the bottom of the ridge.

“Leviathans,” Dean said. “Took out a small pack of wolves a few minutes ago.”

I shivered, watching as one of the leviathans picked up a severed limb, inspecting it before tossing it to the side.

“Shit. That was our path, wasn’t it?” Benny asked. Dean nodded.

“Yeah, and I’m not really in the mood to get into a fight with a bunch of leviathans right now,” he said.

“I don’t blame you, chief,” Benny agreed. “But what are we going to do now?”

I glanced to the left, eyes roaming the cliff side. It was high above the creatures below, and it fed to another cliff edge on the other side. It would be above our path, but most likely would run parallel alongside it. There seemed to be good footwells along the cliffside, and I struggled to get the courage up to speak.

“I have an idea,” I said. Both men looked over at me, interest on Benny’s face and annoyance on Dean’s.

“The adults are talking,” Dean said.

“Let her talk, chief,” Benny said, patting his friend on the back. “Go ‘head, cher.”

I swallowed. “The side of the cliff: it’s hidden by the tops of the trees. But-” I pointed to the other edge- “if we are careful enough, we could climb across and get to the other landing. I’m guessing the otherside runs parallel to our original path, it’ll just be higher.”

“Smart,” Benny said, giving me a smile. “Real good.”

“How the hell are you going to climb across the side of a damn cliff?” Dean asked, raising a brow. “You can barely hold up your axe.”

I bit my lip. “I’ll manage. And I can, too, hold up my axe. I’m not weak.”

Suddenly I was being shoved onto my back, my hands being pressed into the dirt as Dean held my wrists. He straddled my waist, his face inches from mine.

“Push me off,” he hissed, eyes furiously burning through my skull. I struggled beneath his hold. I was strong, but Dean was stronger, and no matter how much I bucked and pushed and pulled, he wouldn’t budge.

He let go of me for a moment, and I shoved at his chest, quickly being held down again with one hand while his other held a knife to my throat.

“You know, it would be so easy to end you right now,” he growled. My eyes widened in fear. “I wouldn’t have to hear your whiny, sniveling voice anymore and see your pathetically hideous face.”

I couldn’t stop the tears from pooling in my eyes.

“It would put us all out of our misery.”

“That’s enough, Dean,” Benny said, now on his feet.

“The bitch needs to be taught a lesson,” Dean said, pressing harder. I whimpered, fear clutching my heart in its grasp as he smirked darkly at me. “Don’t you… bitch?”

“Get off me, Dean,” I said, bucking beneath him again. He laughed, hand squeezing my wrists tighter. “Stop it.”

In a blink of an eye, he had reared the blade back, bringing it shooting back down until it stabbed into the ground beside my head. I flinched away from it, eyes squeezing shut as he was being pulled off me.

“What the hell is your problem?” Benny asked, pushing Dean against a tree. “What the fuck has she ever done to you?”

“What do you mean? Just look at her,” Dean said.

“Give me a reason, chief,” Benny snarled. “Give me one good reason why you terrorize that poor woman.”

Dean hesitated, his mouth agape as he thought for a moment. I was sitting up, hand on my throat as I watched carefully as he closed his mouth and set his jaw, eyes casting downwards.

“That’s what I thought,” Benny muttered, letting him go. Dean took a deep breath, looking up at me for a moment.

“Fine. We’ll do it your way.” He bent down to pick up his sword, slinging it over his shoulder onto his back before making his way to the cliff side.

Benny helped me to my feet, hands cradling my head as he inspected my neck. There was a small nick from Dean’s blade, but I was relatively unscathed.

“Alright, cher,” Benny began, hands gently resting on my shoulders. “You stick with me, okay? I won’t let Dean touch you again.”

I swallowed thickly, nodding my head as he patted my back. He pulled me in for a quick hug before following after Dean.

***

The next three days had gone by in a blur. We had yet to find Cas, and Dean was getting impatient. It was a constant surge of monsters and a constant physical battle with ourselves as we pushed through the fights, trying to swallow back our bile at the blood and guts that inevitably found itself onto our clothes.

I was washing up in the river, a little way through the trees from a camp we had set up for the night. I had carefully peeled off my bloodstained clothes, washing my body as best I could with the river’s water before attempting to clean my jeans and shirt. I scrubbed at them until the blood was simply an ugly stain, tossing the garments onto a nearby rock to dry. I was midway running water over my hair when suddenly arms were lifting me up, eliciting a squeal from my lips. A hand clamped over my mouth and I was dragged back behind the rocks. I struggled in the arms of my captor, rearing my head back and bashing it into their nose. They grunted, and they let go.

I spun around, fists raised, eyes widening.

“Dean? What the hell?” I asked, covering my stomach. My chest was still covered by my bra, and the water was deep enough to cover the bottom half of me, but I felt naked under Dean’s intense gaze. I glance around, spotting my clothes on the boulder. I grabbed at them, pulling the shirt over my head before my jeans were ripped away from me and thrown to the side. “Hey!”

His lips crashed against mine in a bruising force, hand tangling in my hair as he snaked an arm around my waist, crushing my body against his. My hands flew to his chest and I tried to push him away, confusion and fear coursing through my veins as he wouldn’t let go.

I bit down on his lip, and he reared back with a small yelp, touching where blood began to seep from the bite. I pulled my shirt on as he was distracted and backed away from him, arms curling around my torso.

“What the fuck was that?” He asked, wiping away the blood. I stared at him, mouth dropping.

“What the fuck was that?” I yelled. He raised a brow. “You don’t just come onto a girl like that! Especially after treating her like you treat me!”

“I… huh?”

“Are you seriously playing dumb right now?” I asked, brows drawing together. “You can’t be that fucking idiotic.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? For everything. But here’s the thing,” he said, moving closer to me. I moved back until I was pressed against the rock. “We’ve been here for almost a year, right? Neither of us have gotten any within that time. You just looked hot down here in the water, and I see the way you look at me sometimes so I just thought, ‘hey, why not?’”

How long had I dreamed a moment like this would happen? Too many times. More than I’d care to admit. But did I really want to be with Dean for the first time like this? With him hating my guts, simply wanting a quick fuck in Purgatory pf all places? Fuck no.

I scoffed, shaking my head. “You’re shitting me.”

“No.”

I ran a hand through my damp hair. “I… I can’t believe a word that’s coming out of your mouth right now. You think I’m hideous! You’ve said so multiple times, so you’re full of shit! And just so you know, you don’t just jump onto a girl and assume she wants the same thing you do. Besides, who wouldn’t be attracted to you, for fuck’s sake? It doesn’t mean I want to fuck you! God, Dean! You hate me!”

“I don’t hate you…”

“Yes, you do! You’ve bullied me like a damn middle schooler since the moment you met me!”

He sighed, jaw clenching. “Fine. You know what? Forget it.” He moved past me, stopping for a second. “And all have you know, it’s not that I hate you. It’s just that I can’t stand to be around you for more than ten minutes without wanting to put a gun in my mouth. And you’re right, I do think you’re hideous, and my god does your personality make you fucking ugly inside and out. If you don’t want work done on your face, at least work on that. Maybe then you could find someone willing to put up with you.”

He left then, leaving me speechless. I collapsed against the rock, silent sobs racking my body. I hated myself, and Dean thrived on that fact. I had no idea what I had ever done to him, nor did I understand how someone could be so cruel. But there was one thing I did know for sure; Dean Winchester was absolutely hell bent on breaking me.

***

I combed my hair out with my fingers, eyes staring out over the water.

It was nearly a week after my confrontation with Dean, and he had gone back to ignoring me. I was okay with it, not minding the silence after the cruel words. I always relied on my friendship with Benny to get me through, but it seemed as though he was pulling away from me, too.

I sighed, my hands finding themselves on the dirt beneath me. They were filthy, no matter how many times I scrubbed at them with moss and water, the blood and mud wouldn’t rid itself from my skin.

Suddenly, something went soaring through the air in front of my face, a blade lodging itself in the tree beside me. I fell back, flattening myself on the ground as I looked to the side, seeing Dean standing twenty feet from me, a dark smirk on his face, Benny shaking his head behind him.

“What the hell, Dean!” I shouted, scrambling to my feet. “You could’ve killed me!”

“But I didn’t,” he said, walking towards me. He reached past me, eyes locked on mine as he retrieved the knife from the bark. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Don’t be so… are you fucking with me?” I asked, watching as he turned around and shrugged off his jacket.

“Just drop it, cher,” Benny said, rolling his eyes. I set my jaw and turned away, swallowing back the anger brewing inside my chest. I folded my arms over each other, biting down on my tongue until I drew blood. “I’m going to scout the area. See if I can’t find a better place to set up camp.”

I inwardly groaned at the thought of being alone with Dean, and watched from the corner of my eye as Benny made his way through the trees, Dean leaning against one to stare at me. He was twirling his blade around in his fingers, his smirk not fading from his face. I shifted uncomfortably.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Dean began.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” I muttered. He stopped twirling the knife, smirk fading to replace his expression with a stoic, hard one.

“I’ll give you one more chance at this, Y/N,” he said. He walked toward me slowly, and I backed away a bit.

“At what?” I asked, now pressed against a tree. Dean didn’t stop moving until he could press his palm against the tree, leaning into it as he bent down until he was eye level with me.

“I think you know.” His eyes flickered down to my lips, his tongue running out to wet his own. I shivered as he lowered his face to the side of my head, nose pressing into my hair to take a deep breath in.

“Dean, please, I don’t-”

“You know, I bet you’re still a virgin,” he interrupted, ignoring my words. I tried pushing against his chest but he took my hands in his, bringing them behind my back and crushing me further into the tree. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with anyone. Although, I’m not surprised.”

“Dean, stop it,” I said harshly, but once again my words went unheard, and he nipped my collarbone.

“Fuck, a virgin pussy sounds so good right now.”

“I said stop, Dean!” I cried, pushing harder against him. He retaliated, quickly holding both of my hands in one of his in order to press against my throat with the other.

“I don’t give a fuck about what you said,” he hissed. “The only reason you’re alive is because of me. Face it, you wouldn’t have made it on your own, and the only reason that I haven’t killed you myself yet is because Sam would kill me when we get back.” He crushed his lips to mine, all teeth and rough pressure as he shoved his tongue into my mouth. He rolled his hips against me, and my stomach churned. “I haven’t had any in a long time, Y/N. I need to let off some steam, and you owe me.” He pulled back to look into my teary eyes. “Answer me this… are you a virgin?”

I clenched my jaw. “Let go of me.”

He growled and slapped me, a yelp escaping my lips as he gripped my chin, bashing my head back against the bark. “I will find out one way or another, I’m just curious.”

I swallowed, teeth sinking into my tongue. I’ve had two boyfriends in the past, if I could even call them that. I had only gone on a few dates with both of them, but never went further than second base. I was twenty-four and never worried about still being a virgin.

Until now.

I didn’t want my first time being like this; raped in purgatory by the man who hates me, and who I was utterly afraid of; raped by a man I had unwillingly fallen in love with.

I gave a short nod, and he smiled darkly. “Not surprising, but definitely exciting.”

“Dean, please don’t do this,” I said, struggling against his hold. “Please.”

“Benny will be back soon, so we need to make this quick,” he said. And suddenly, his hand was off my throat and on the button of my jeans.

“No!” I snarled, trying to kick at him, but he wedged his knee between my legs, and I was completely trapped.

His hand was inside my pants and down the front of my panties without hesitation, and I cringed at the thought of the dirt and blood that coated both of our skin. His fingers ran through my folds, thumb finding my clit quickly. I squeezed my eyes shut as nausea washed over me, and my body went rigid at the alien feeling of someone else’s hands down there. A tear trickled down my cheek, and Dean bent forward to lick it up.

“Come on, baby,” he cooed mockingly. “Just go with it. There’s nothing you can do to stop it anyway.”

I reared back as far as I could to spit in his face. He flinched back in surprise, his face morphing from cocky and dark to menacing, and I was thrown to the ground roughly within a second, Dean quickly hovering over me and holding me down before I could move away.

“I was trying to make this better for you, I truly was,” he said, beginning to undo his belt. I shuddered and squirmed beneath him. “But now, you’ve just pissed me off. So I don’t give a fuck if you’re ready or not.”

He shoved his jeans down far enough to free his cock from his boxers, moving back to tear at my own jeans and panties and drag them down my legs. I flipped around and began crawling away, but he gripped my ankle and turned me around onto my back.

“I want to see you,” he grunted, hands spreading my legs enough for him to fit between them. I looked down at his prick, eyes widening as I saw the size of him, and he laughed. “You’re in for it now, sweetheart.”

He stroked himself a few times before lining up with my entrance. I didn’t stop struggling, hands trying to claw at his face, my eyes blurring from my tears. He gripped both of my wrists in one of his hands while the other held himself until the tip was resting against me, and then he moved his hand to grip my waist harshly.

He forced himself inside me in one painful thrust, and a scream of pain was ripped from my throat. Dean smirked, relishing in the fact he had just torn through my virginity with such cruelty and violence. He groaned as he began to move. My hands slumped against him, knowing it was no use. He was much stronger than me, and he had already gotten what he wanted.

“I knew you’d like this,” he hissed in my ear, pulling out just to snap back in. “A bitch born to take a cock. My cock.”

The last shred of my innocence was taken within a second, and each time he shoved himself inside me, it took everything in me not to burst into tears. I turned my face away from him, eyes squeezed as tight as I could in order to try and disassociate myself, praying that this was simply but a dream.

But as he hiked up my leg around his waist to angle himself deeper inside me, I knew it wasn’t a dream, but a nightmare, one born to tear down my walls and shatter the last of my will. I knew Dean Winchester was intent on breaking me, but I didn’t know he’d take it to such extremes.

“Shit,” he cursed, plunging himself deeper and deeper with each thrust until he couldn’t go any further. I bit my lip to keep in my cries of pain, nails sinking into the palms of my hand.

His hips began to stutter, his movements choppy and I knew he was close. I dug my nails in deeper until I felt blood trickle from my fingers. His hand gripped my jaw, turning my head.

“Look at me,” he growled, holding himself to the hilt inside me until I complied. He smirked at the tears that trickled from my eyes, and slammed himself home once, twice, three more times before he came. He held his hips flush to my pelvis, eyes still locked with mine as he spilled himself inside me.

He gave a few more lazy humps, making sure he didn’t waste a single drop of his come before slipping out, sitting back on his haunches and taking a deep breath. “Wow.”

I sniffled, scooting as far away as possible as I pulled up my panties and jeans with shaky hands, trying to hold back the sobs and failing. I brought my hand up to my mouth, biting my sleeve to stifle the cries threatening to echo off the trees, and brought my knees up to my chest.

“Shit, sweetheart,” Dean said smiling. He laughed, shaking his head. “You felt better than I thought.” He sighed, standing up then and looked down at me. “Benny will be back soon. So pull yourself together before then. Say one word to him about this, I’ll kill you.”

I nodded in understanding, and he grunted.

He grabbed his axe and turned away, trudging off into the woods for his usual search for firewood.

In the five minutes he was gone, I took the time to pack up the few belongings I had, and without turning back, I ran for the hills.

Two Years Later

The nightmares never faded.

They had become less frequent, yet every few days or so, I’d run from the images inside my own head, battling demons within me instead of on the battlefield. Being scared of someone or something is one thing, but being scared of your own mind, your own dreams, was an entirely different thing, and it took strength to lay down and risk the possibility of reliving old trauma.

Yet, it was inevitable, after everything that had happened. Therapy helped, so did the anti-depressants and anxiety pills I took each night. But the truth of the matter was, the memories of Purgatory were always there, and the guilt and shame never faded, it simply turned into a dull ache that never truly went away.

Running from Dean, I was sore and bleeding, and all I cared about was keeping as much distance between him and I as possible. I listened to the whispers of the monsters, making sure I was never too close.

Dean got out before I did, just two months after I ran, and it was only a few days later that I found the portal. I didn’t even try to contact Sam, because where Sam went, Dean went.

Instead, I changed my name and set up a life for myself in a small town up in the mountains of West Virginia. I got a job at a police station as a victim advocate, got an apartment, and never once looked back.

Quitting hunting wasn’t easy, and every once in a while I’d take a case close to home. But I typically stayed within the state, not wanting to risk running into the brothers on a hunt.

Over those two years, I slowly began to rebuild my walls. However, in a split second, it all came crumbling down again.

It was a Monday afternoon in October. A cool front had washed over the Virginias and Maryland, finally carrying a crisp, sweet wind to cool our skin from the sweltering heat of the summer.

I was walking back to the station from lunch, having ran to a sandwich shop a block away. I was chewing on my lip and thinking about a particular case when I saw it; the sleek black coat of the Impala.

I felt my stomach drop, and I felt like I would be sick. Surely it couldn’t be the brothers. Other people had this particular car, too. But my fears were confirmed when the door to the station opened, and Sam walked out into the wind, leaves scattering around his feet, Dean right behind him.

I was frozen with fear. All the progress I had made had diminished in a second. I wanted to turn and run the other way. I wanted to duck into the alley and wait until they were gone. But I couldn’t move. My limbs were suddenly planted and my body lost the ability to move as the man who had made my life hell for years and haunted my dreams stepped into the sun.

Sam looked around as Dean led the way to the Impala. There was nothing I could do as his eyes landed on me, the surprised look on his face making me wince, the fearful one on mine catching him off guard.

“Y/N?” He asked. I saw Dean stiffen at the sound of my name, and I suddenly regained the ability to move. I spun on my heel and rushed into the alley, hoping to make it around to the back of the station and slip inside unseen. But Sam’s long legs made it so he was faster than me, and no amount of sprinting could keep me far enough away. He stepped in front of me, and my eyes widened. “Y/N… I… You’re alive.”

I swallowed thickly, looking over my shoulder. I tensed as I saw Dean at the end of the alley, his face hard and jaw clenched as he met my eyes. I looked back at Sam, shaking my head and stepping around him.

“I have to get back to work,” I said, trying to push past him.

“Wait!” He said, gripping my arm. I flinched, and he let go immediately.

“Sam,” I said, looking up at him. He tilted his head in confusion at the look of defeat on my face. “Please.”

“I don’t understand,” he muttered. “Dean said you were dead. That you died when you were in Purgatory.”

“A part of me did,” I admitted. Sam’s face darkened at my words, and I looked away. “And if you love me, you’d stay away from me. For good.”

“I thought I lost my best friend, Y/N,” Sam said. “I can’t just let you go now, knowing you’re alive.”

“Sam, please,” I begged. “Please.”

“Why?” He demanded.

“Just let her be, Sam.”

My breath hitched in my throat, and I looked back over towards Sam. Dean had caught up to us and was standing beside his brother now, a dark look on his face. His stare was icy, and it sent shivers down my spine. I shivered when he licked his lips, eyes raking up and down my body and suddenly I was back in Purgatory, his predatory gaze sending me reeling to a time of pain and misery.

“Y/N!”

I jumped, realizing Sam had been trying to get my attention for some time now. I looked up at him, worrying my lip, tears filling my eyes. “Sam, I can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what? Why did Dean lie? What the hell happened in Purgatory?” He asked.

“Dean didn’t…” I trailed off, rolling my eyes with a scoff. “No, I guess he wouldn’t tell you what happened.”

“Y/N,” Dean warned, stare turning deadly.

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam snapped. “Y/N, you can tell me anything.”

“No, I can’t,” I said, shaking my head. “Your brother will kill me.”

“No, he won’t. I won’t let him,” Sam said. “Now please, I miss my best friend. Let me help you.”

“You can’t help me,” I said. “Not anymore. Purgatory was shitty in itself, but Dean…”

I was suddenly pushed up against the brick wall, a yelp escaping me as Dean’s hand wrapped around my throat, his body pressed against mine. I shivered in fear, visibly shaking as his lips curled into a snarl.

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed, trying to pry his brother off me.

“What did I tell you would happen if you told anyone?” Dean hissed. I beat at his hands, trying to kick out at him.

“Dean…”

“I’ll kill ‘ya,” he said. “I’ll do it right now. Don’t. Say. A. Word.”

Tears trickled down my cheeks, and Sam was able to tear Dean off me, pushing him up against the opposite wall.

“What the fuck?” He yelled. He pushed off his brother, turning towards me, placing his hands gently on my shoulders. His voice softened then. “Are you okay?”

“I really need to… to get back to work,” I whispered. I was still shaking, and Sam’s fingers tightened slightly, almost as if he was trying to steady me.

“Can I come see you after work? I’ll meet you here and walk you home?”

I glanced over Sam’s shoulder towards Dean. His jaw was set, and he gave a shake of his head.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” I murmured. I watched a smirk grow on Dean’s face, and I shivered.

“I’m sorry. But I don’t care. I’ll meet you here, okay? At five?”

I nodded.

“Okay. See you then.” He turned slightly. “He won’t be coming, don’t worry.”

The brothers stared at each other intently, and I scurried off as quick as I could, clutching the brown bag in my hand to my chest, not trusting my hands not to shake.

It was my luck that they would end up here, out of all the towns and all the cases in the continental U.S., they had to end up here. There was one thing I was sure about; I wouldn’t be meeting Sam, nor would I be going back to work. I forgot all about my few belongings in the office, beelining to my car, readying myself to pack and be out of town by tonight.

***

I didn’t have much in terms of belongings. It didn’t take long to pack, and I had no set destination. If I had a set destination, I could be found.

I was taping up the few boxes I had, picking up a few odds and ends, figuring I would leave the furniture and have the building owner sell it. Just as I was finishing, three sound knocks were rapped on my door.

I froze.

I wasn’t expecting anyone, and I hadn’t made any friends since moving to town. No one would be coming here unannounced. No one except the Winchesters. They had their ways of finding where I lived. Sam probably asked around the station.

“Fucking Sam,” I muttered to myself. I pushed myself up off the floor, stalking to my front door. “So not cool.”

I unlocked the door, keeping the deadbolt in, before opening it.

My heart jumped to my throat.

“Dean?” I asked. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You didn’t show up to your meet-up with Sammy,” he said. He glanced around my door, stuffing his hands in his pockets, nodding. “Simple and plain. It suits you.”

“Go away, Dean,” I said. “I have cop friends and I’m not afraid to call them. Just go.”

Dean laughed. “Please. We both know you’re not friends with any of them. Besides, what would you tell them? You know what will happen if you say anything.”

“Fuck off, Dean,” I hissed. I went to close the door, but Dean was quick to stick his foot out, wedging it between the door and the frame.

“Nuh uh uh,” he tsked. “Won’t you invite me in, little pig?”

I swallowed. “No.”

“Oh, but why?” He asked, smirking. “You scared?”

I lifted my chin, standing up straighter. “No.”

He chuckled darkly, bending slightly to meet my eye level. “I think we both know that’s a lie, little pig.”

“Get the fuck away from me, Dean,” I hissed. I kicked at his foot sharply, unwedging it, promptly slamming my door shut in the process, turning the lock. I backed away from the door, feeling under the small table near the front door for my gun.

I screamed as my door was kicked in, wood splintering off the frame. Dean laughed, stepping past the threshold, kicking the door closed behind him. It didn’t quite close all the way, but enough so Dean could slip the chain into its lock.

“Here’s Johnny,” he teased, smiling. My eyes widened, and I gripped the gun, ripping it from its confinement, lifting my arm to shoot. Dean moved quickly, knocking the gun from my hand, pushing me back against the wall. He thrusted forward, crashing his lips to mine in a sloppy kiss.

“Miss me?”

“Get away from me!” I screeched. “Help! Somebody please help me!”

I sobbed as he fisted his hand in my hair, bashing my head back against the wall.

“You fucking bitch,” he hissed. “Almost telling Sammy about our little roll around. What did I tell you, hmm? Have you told anyone else?”

My eyes were blurred from the tears. Somehow my nightmares were coming true. Somehow hell had shown up at my front door, rearing its ugly head and laughing as fear twisted my insides and made my head spin. What had I done to deserve this?

“No,” I said. “I haven’t told anyone. I won’t tell anyone. Please just leave me alone.”

He ran a hand down my face, thumb smearing my tears across my skin. “Oh, but I can’t do that. You disobeyed me. You made Sam skeptical. You must be punished.”

“No,” I cried. “Please, Dean. Please don’t do this.”

He gripped my hair tighter, jerking me down the hall, my fists beating against him the whole time, fighting, kicking, screaming. He simply bent down, picking me up, and carried me into my room. He threw me onto my bed, hands gripping my thighs as he flipped me over onto my stomach.

“Now, bad girls must be punished,” he said. He reached underneath me, fingers unbuttoning my jeans. I kicked back at him, my heel meeting the fleshy part of his thigh. He grunted, and I clawed away from him, but he simply pulled me back down. “Well, that just made things so much worse for you.”

He yanked my jeans down, throwing them somewhere in the room, hands tearing at my simple cotton panties. Tears blurred my vision, and I desperately tried to crawl away. I fisted my hands on the mattress, trying to somehow escape from his hold.

I cried out as his palm collided with my ass.

“Tell me, have you been with anyone else since me?” He asked. I sobbed, screeching behind clenched teeth as he hit me again. “Answer me, bitch.”

“No,” I said. He laughed. I hadn’t heard him take off his belt, but I heard the snap as he pulled it taut. “No, no, no.”

“Oh, yes,” he laughed. He brought the belt down, letting it smack against my bare skin. The sting radiated through my back. Dean was strong, and each time his arm was brought down, the belt would send another striking shot of fire through my body. I was frozen with pain and fear. Dean didn’t have to hold me down after a while. I couldn’t move. “This is for your own good, Y/n.”

I didn’t know how long he struck me. Over, and over, and over he striked, and I lost count after twenty. My hands were clenched in the mattress cover, tears soaking the fabric beneath me, clouding my vision.

I finally heard him throw the belt aside, and his hands curled around my hips, lifting my bottom into the air gently. He softly caressed my skin, and I jumped when I felt his lips touch the welts.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He rubbed my lower back slowly. “I’m so sorry.”

I sunk my teeth into my lower lip. I froze, not sure what I was supposed to do. I knew moving was out of the question. I was in too much pain to move. Confusion sunk into my bones as he slowly kissed up my back, until he was hovering over me.

He turned me slowly, gently placing me on my back, eyes looking down at me. He tilted his head, thumb wiping away my tears. “Hey, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.”

“Don’t cry?” I whispered. “How do you expect me to be okay with all of this, Dean? You broke me in Purgatory. You’ve haunted my dreams for the past two years. Then you do this? Just kill me and get it over with. Please.”

He shook his head, furrowing his brows. “I’m not here to kill you. I actually, believe it or not, came to apologize. But as soon as you opened the door I just… I don’t know what came over me.”

“Like I believe that,” I hissed. “Just get the fuck out.”

His jaw ticked, and suddenly his resolve faded. For a second I saw remorse, and now? Fire raged behind his leaf green eyes. I felt his whole body tense against me. I felt him… grow… beneath me.

“Fuck no,” I said. A rush of adrenaline coursed through me. I rolled away from him, landing on my back on the wood floor. I cried out as my raw skin made impact, but I pushed myself up quickly. Dean was up now, his eyes hard and piercing.

“Come here, little pig,” he snarled. I spun and dashed towards the bathroom. He leaped over the bed after me, but I was already inside, locking the door quickly. I heard shuffling, and I knew I needed to think fast. I spotted the window and yanked my robe off the hook, slipping it on. I stepped onto the toilet, pushed the window open, and peered down the three flights my apartment was up. I swallowed thickly, glancing back at the bathroom door. The doorknob was jiggling, and I knew he was picking the lock. Mustering up the courage, I hoisted myself up and swung my legs over. The door suddenly burst open, our eyes locking.

“Don’t you dare,” he said. I took a deep breath and looked down again. Just as he lunged forward, I let go, feeling the rush of air and my heart plummet to my stomach. My eyes were wide as I watched the ground rush up on me all too quickly. I tried ducking my shoulder to attempt to roll, hopefully saving my legs and head in the process, but I couldn’t quite get there. I felt something snap as I hit the ground, a sickening crunch sounding in my ears as I landed on my side.

“Y/n!”

That voice was different. That voice was angelic... kind. Sam.

“Oh my god,” he said. He bent down, hands cradling my face as he looked into my eyes. “Hey, stay with me. Are you alright? Jesus- of course you’re not alright, you jumped from a fucking window to get away from my brother. God, Y/n I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Why does he hate me so?” I whimpered before everything went dark.

***

“Should she be asleep this long?”

“Her body is healing. It’s up to her now.”

***

“Get the fuck out.”

“Sam… I don’t know what happened.”

“Don’t you dare say that. Don’t come up with these-these lame ass excuses. I saw what you did, and I have an idea about purgatory. Now, for the last time, get the fuck out.”

***

“She will stay with me.”

“And you are?”

“Her brother.”

***

I jolted awake. My body was on fire, my head pounding with a dull ache. I opened my eyes slowly, adjusting to the bright light above my head. A beeping sound came from my right, and a quick glance showed an EKG meter. A fucking hospital.

My shoulder was bandaged and arm in a sling. My knee had a brace on it. My behind felt raw as shit.

“Fuck,” I muttered as I tried to sit up.

“Y/n! Thank God.”

I jumped at the sound of a voice.

“Sam.”

“God, Y/n… I’m so sorry. So, so, so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” I told him.

“No, but I should have known. I should have done something. God, I can’t believe it.”

I sighed, fiddling with a loose thread on the scratchy blanket that was laid over me. I furrowed my brows.

“Sam… did Dean tell you what happened in purgatory?”

Sam swallowed thickly. “No. But I can guess.”

I nodded slowly. “He told me he’d kill me if I ever told anyone.”

“Have you?” Sam asked.

“My therapist,” I replied.

“A therapist?”

“Yeah. I needed one,” I said. “I was… broken when I got out. I was getting so much better, Sam. I felt like me again. Sure, I still had the nightmares sometimes but… I wasn’t always looking over my shoulder.” My lip wobbled as I fought back tears. “Damn him.”

“God, Y/n/n. I can’t believe it. It just seems so… not Dean,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sam, I know you mean well, but please stop saying sorry,” I said. He smiled and blushed.

“Sorry.” He cringed. I laughed.

“Stop it,” I told him, pushing his shoulder lightly. He laughed too, grabbing my hand. He kissed my knuckles.

“I’ve missed you,” he said.

“I’ve missed you, too,” I told him. “But I knew that where you went, Dean went.”

“I understand,” he said.

“Oh good, you’re awake!”

Sam and I both looked at the door, a plump woman in a white lab coat standing in the doorway. Her dark hair was piled high on her head, glasses pristinely balanced on her nose, lips lined with deep red lipstick. She looked like a T.V. doctor, not a doctor in middle-of-nowhere West Virginia.

“How are you feeling?” She asked. She checked my vitals and IV bag.

“Sore,” I replied.

“Your brother here has offered to take you home,” she said. I looked pointedly at Sam who shrugged sheepishly. “Look here.”

She shined a light into my eyes, checked my bandages, and determined that I could go home as long as I was supervised for 48 hours. I silently wondered where Dean was, hoping I wasn’t going to see him. If Sam was taking me home, who knows what would happen? Dean knew where I lived. But if Sam was there, perhaps he wouldn’t be stupid enough to try anything.

***

“Are you alright?”

Sam gently placed me onto the motel bed, careful not to hurt me. His brows were furrowed in worry and his lips were pursed into a frown. I let out a shaky laugh.

“No,” I said. “But I’ll get there.”

“Y/n, I’m so-”

“Stop it!” I scolded. “What did I say?”

“Not to apologize anymore?” He said slowly.

“That’s correct,” I said. I laid back onto the pillows, which were worn, but on my sore shoulder and back, they honestly didn’t feel too bad. “Now, mama needs to rest.”

Sam snorted. “Okay… mama.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don’t mock me, Samuel.” He raised his hands in defense.

“Okay, okay. Sorry, mama,” he said. “I’ll call Cas. He can heal you.”

I perked up at Castiel’s name. The gentle angel and I had been good friends. I heard whispers about him too, while in purgatory that is. I shivered at the thought of that place and…

No. I wouldn’t think about that now. I was safe with Sam. Surely Dean couldn’t find us here. Right? Sam would have taken measures to keep him from doing so.

“Hey, Cas. It’s Sam. Listen…”

Sam’s voice trailed off as he stepped outside the room, closing the door softly behind him. Suddenly, the room turned eerie. The air conditioner hummed loudly under the window, producing some sound in the empty room. It was confining. I shifted on the bed, wincing as my shoulder moved in an odd way. I adjusted my sling to a more comfortable position. I hated these things.

I sighed deeply, glancing towards the door again. I blew a piece of hair out of my eyes. Alone. It wasn’t an odd sensation to me. I had been alone for the last two years. But I had slipped so easily back into the comfortable familiarity that was once me and Sam. I had missed him so much. He was my best friend, my confidant. Being around him again was liberating. It lifted a weight off my shoulders.

Telling someone what had happened in purgatory, besides a therapist, lifted a weight off my shoulders.

Of course, Dean would kill me if he knew. But it felt good to get it out, not have it bottled up. Dr. Ramirez was great, of course. But she wasn’t Sam. Wasn’t a friend.

However, now that the room was empty apart from me, the only sounds of the air unit and the springs of the old bed creaking, I was left alone with my thoughts. Vivid images of Dean flashed before my eyes. Of purgatory, across the street at work, the alley, my apartment. Damn him. Damn him for abusing me so. Damn him for not caring. Damn him for giving me a false sense of hope when he spared a silver of remorse. And damn me for loving him.

Did I still? No, I didn’t think so. Not the Dean who hates me. Who hurt me and raped me and tormented me. Not that Dean. Perhaps the Dean who loved his little brother beyond comprehension. The Dean who would throw himself in the line of fire for a stranger. The Dean who sacrificed everything for the world, the world that was so cruel to him.

Fuck. Of course I still loved that Dean. It was like two separate fucking people. A Dean who would light up at the sight of pie and tell you everything about a band he liked simply because he wanted to share something he loved with you. A Dean who was so selfless, you would need to make sure he wouldn’t go off and get himself killed for absolutely no reason but to save a fucking dog. He would have one look on his face, and then turn to me. That look would turn cold. Those eyes, those beautiful eyes, would turn to ice in a split second. That voice that dripped of rum and sticky honey tore through my heart like daggers in ice. How could someone be so cruel?

A sob escaped my lips. I was so tired of crying. I hated crying. I wiped my nose with the back of my hand from my good arm. I didn’t want to cry anymore. I didn’t want to think anymore.

Luckily, Sam opened the door then. It made me jump slightly. Castiel was behind him. I grinned.

“Cas.”

“Y/n,” he said warmly. He walked over to the bedside. He rested a hand on my good shoulder. Cas wasn’t one for touchy-feely shit. But with me, he was always more comfortable with it.

“I’m going to heal you,” he said matter-of-factly. I gave him a nod, a light shining from his hand. A warmth filled me, starting from my head and reaching to the tips of my toes, and suddenly I felt better. I gave him a grin, which faltered at the look on his face.

“Cas?” I asked. “What is it?”

He gave a small shake of his head. “It’s… it’s a curse.”

“What is?” Sam questioned. He stood up from his seat at the small table by the window. I glanced at him.

“You have had a curse placed on you. An old one. I’ve seen it before, though. In heaven,” Castiel said. “I’m not sure why I hadn’t seen it before now. Perhaps since I hadn’t had to heal you before.”

“A curse in heaven?” I asked.

“It was designed by the archangels. It was to keep soulmates apart.”

“What?” Sam said. “Soulmates? Surely you’re joking.”

“No, I’m not joking,” Cas said. “And don’t call me Shirley.”

Sam furrowed his brows at that. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

“Okay, so a curse. What kind of curse?” I asked. “Who’s my soulmate?”

“The curse is complicated. It can only be placed on one soulmate, and the cursed mate would need to be an interference with a plan from heaven or God himself. ”

“What sort of interference?” Sam asked. Cas hummed.

“Y/n must have stood in the way of her soulmate’s destiny. Her path must cross with them, meaning that she would have altered the path chosen for her mate by heaven. The curse makes it so one of the soulmates hates the other for no particular reason. They can be downright evil towards them. Y/n’s soulmate, if she ever comes across them, may even want to kill her. The curse causes one of the soulmates to do terrible things to the other. They can act one way, and their soulmate walks into the room, suddenly they are filled with an unexplainable rage. There are times where the soulmate can feel remorse or even come to love the one who was cursed. However, the second they lie eyes on the cursed soulmate, their hatred returns.”

Holy fuck.

“If you don’t mind, Y/n,” Cas continued. “Would you mind letting me touch your soul? It should tell me who your soulmate is. I know every path for every human soul. I should be able to see.”

“I… I think I may know who it is,” I said softly. Suddenly my blood ran cold. It felt as if the temperature in the room dropped twenty degrees in a single second. Soulmate may want to kill me. They will hate me. Do terrible things to me. They are suddenly remorseful, but once again turn evil once they lie eyes on me. Fucking hell.

“Who?” Castiel asked. I looked to Sam, who was staring at the ground. I saw it dawn on him, saw the realization flash across his face. His head snapped up to mine.

“Dean.”

***

“Are you fucking joking?”

I flinched at his words. Dean stared- no, glared- at me from his chair. He was chained to a chair in the dungeon. “Precaution” Sam had said. Dean wasn’t too happy with it. I sat in a chair about six feet from him, right outside the devil’s trap. His lip curled into a snarl.

“I’ll fucking kill myself if this bitch is my so called soulmate.”

“I’ve already touched her soul, Dean,” Castiel said. “Just to be sure.”

“Okay? And?” Dean prompted.

“Not only is she cursed, but she’s your soulmate.”

“Fucking hell,” he groaned.

“The archangels placed the curse on her at birth. When they found out she was to be your soulmate, they cursed her in order to keep her from interfering with their plan to have you as Michael’s vessel. If she wasn’t cursed, they foresaw the two of you already together; married and two children.”

My heart ached. I could have had that? Instead, my soulmate had abused, raped, and threatened to kill me on multiple occasions. Great.

“Gag,” Dean said. He spit at the ground towards me. “You told them. You know what would happen if you did. You’re fucking dead.”

“Sam,” I said quietly. I looked up at him. He gently placed a hand at the back of my head in a comforting gesture.

“It’s alright,” he said.

“Now, there is a way to remove the curse. It is painful, and tedious, but it may allow you two to venture forth into a soulmate’s relationship.”

“Fuck that.”

“I can’t.”

Although said at the same time, all eyes turned to me.

“What do you mean you can’t?” Cas asked. Sam sighed.

“Cas, not now.”

“I mean I can’t be with someone who-who was so cruel to me. You don’t know the specifics of purgatory,” I muttered. I squeezed my eyes shut at the thought. My lip threatened to wobble. I sunk my teeth into it. “When this is done, I don’t know if I can be here anymore.”

“Y/n,” Sam said. “When this curse is lifted, the Dean who did those things to you will not exist.”

“It’s true,” Cas said. “The curse alters your soulmate in a way that they’re unrecognizable. It turns their personality completely sour, turning them into a new person. The Dean that will be shown to you when this is over will be the real Dean, the Dean you saw when you weren’t near him. When you’re cursed, it’s like he’s possessed by an alien body.”

“But it’s still his face. His hands. His… everything.” I shuddered.

“That was fun, wasn’t sweetheart?” Dean said. “I still remember how you felt. Tight virgin… Mmmm. Once I’m free of these chains, I may take you again. Maybe I’ll claim your ass this time.

“Enough, Dean!” Sam barked loudly. “Cas.”

“You ready, Y/n?” Castiel asked. I looked up at him, to Dean, and back again.

“Yeah, just one thing first-” I looked at Dean, right in the eye- “Go to hell you son of a bitch.”

Then Castiel’s hands were on the sides of my head, a blinding pain searing behind my eyes, and all I saw was black.

***

“Sam, how am I supposed to live with it?”

“You just do. It wasn’t you. It was the fucking archangels. They did this to her. Not you.”

“It was still… me. I just couldn’t stop it. God, I can’t believe I…”

“Hey. Stop it. I mean it, okay? You beating yourself up with it will not help you in the end. When she wakes up, she’s going to need us. Okay? She’s going to have to re-learn trust and-and love and learn to trust you.”

“If she wants to leave, we need to let her leave. I don’t blame her if she hates me. You heard what she said, Sam. She said she can’t. And I get it. I understand. I don’t want to put her through anymore pain, okay? She needs to live without fear and without pain and suffering. She’s a good, beautiful person inside and out. She didn’t deserve anything I did to her.”

“It wasn’t you!”

“It was, dammit! It was my hands, my body, my fucking words. God, Sam. We may have been cursed, but it was still me. Okay?”

“You heard Cas. It’s like you were possessed. It wasn’t you. Fucking get it through your thick skull.”

“Tell that to her then. If she believes it, I will. This is about her. Not me.”

I could register their conversation. Feel the dull ache in my head. Smell the faint smell of the lavender incense I used to like to burn. The issue was getting my eyes to open.

With heavy lids, I opened my eyes slowly, struggling to keep them open. The brothers stopped talking and I could feel them staring at me. I groaned as I sat up, rubbing at my temple.

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” Sam said slowly. “You feeling okay?”

“If you consider feeling like you’ve been hit by a train ‘okay,’” I said. “Fuck.”

I looked up at them both, Sam’s eyes warm and lips curled into a sympathetic smile. I forced myself to look at Dean. His eyes were focused intently on his hands, but I could see his jaw clenched and chest moving quickly as he took rapid breaths. His leg bounced repeatedly. He was nervous?.

He looked up at me finally, taking a deep breath, holding it a moment, before letting it back out. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I replied lowly.

“Should I leave you two alone?” Sam asked.

“No,” I said quickly. Dean winced, but I ignored it. Like hell I would be left alone with him. “Cas did it? The curse is gone?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, yeah it’s gone. Dean um… Dean’s fixed, I guess you could say.”

“Is he?” I asked bitterly.

“Y/n,” he said hesitantly. “I don’t have words. I can’t express how sorry I am.” I looked down at my hands. “There aren’t words to describe the guilt I have. I don’t know what to say or do. I’m just so, so sorry.”

I took a deep breath before responding. “At least I know why I loved you for so long.”

That clearly was not what he was expecting to hear. “W-what?”

“Before purgatory, when things didn’t… escalate… I loved you. I loved the you that wasn’t around me. I thought I was fucked up, loving someone who was so cruel to me. But now I know I couldn’t help it. You’re my soulmate. What are the fucking odds?”

His lip quirked slightly. “I… I loved you too. The me that wasn’t around you. It honestly was like two different… me’s essentially. I loved you, and every time I wasn’t around you, I told myself to apologize and fucking fix myself. But then I’d see you and… this anger just consumed me. I couldn’t understand why. And then in purgatory, being around you 24/7, it’s like everything was heightened. I just wanted to make you hurt.”

I flinched and his face softened.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Y/n.”

“No, I want to hear this. I want to understand what you were feeling,” I said. “Maybe it will help me… differentiate you from, you know… cursed you.”

He nodded before continuing. “Like I said, being around you constantly made everything worse. It was like the anger and hatred all heightened. So the night that I… hurt you… I wanted to cause you such profound pain. But I didn’t want to kill you. I think deep down, even cursed, I couldn’t bring myself to kill you. Although the curse hated you, I loved you. You were always so gentle and kind. You’re easily one of the smartest people I know. You’re beautiful and funny and innocent. I fell in love with you, and the curse despised that. It wanted to hurt you. And it did. And for that, I can not apologize enough. What I did… it’s unimaginable. I am so sorry, Y/n.”

We simply sat looking at each other for a moment. Sam sat uncomfortably beside Dean. He glanced between the two of us.

“You’re stressing me out, Sam,” I said finally.

“Sorry,” he muttered, looking anywhere but Dean and me.

I cleared my throat and fiddled with the edge of the blanket laid over me. “I… I don’t know what to say, Dean. I really don’t.”

“Don’t say anything, then,” he murmured.

“I want to forgive and forget. Lord do I want to forget. But this isn’t something you can overcome so easily,” I said. “I was so close to being fixed. I was so much better, but you showing up at my apartment and beating the shit out of me like that… it tore down the foundation I had built back up.”

“I had come to apologize,” he said. “And then I saw you and it all went away.”

“I know,” I told him. “It confused the fuck out of me, your fucking mood swing.”

He whistled. “No shit. It confused me.”

We sat in silence for another moment. I wasn’t scared per se, just uncomfortable. If he was “fixed,” I had nothing to fear. I knew I had nothing to fear from Dean now. However, I would never forget the malice and callousness he showed me for years. That night in purgatory was forever seared into my brain. That trauma and heartache and pain would live with me forever. It didn’t matter if he was fixed or cured or whatever the fuck you want to call it. It still happened. It was still at his hands. That’s not something to simply get over.

“I’m not asking for your forgiveness,” he said softly. “If someday you somehow find it in your heart to forgive me, then that’s your business. I don’t deserve it and I’m not expecting it. But maybe, if you’ll let us try, to start over, someday we could become friends.”

I swallowed thickly. “I don’t know, Dean.”

I watched his face flash with an emotion I couldn’t quite explain, before masking his emotions. “I understand.”

“Maybe,” I told him. “Don’t bank on it.”

Dean gave me a small smile. “I’m in your hands, Y/n. I’ll be here if you want. And if not, then I respect that.”

I yawned then and Sam stood slowly. “Let’s give her some rest, Dean. She’s had a long week.”

Dean nodded at his brother and gave one last look at me.

“I really am sorry, Y/n. I’ll live with this guilt until the day I die. I hope… I hope you find the happiness and peace you deserve.” He gave me a tight lipped smile and closed the door behind him, evidently taking all weight in the room with him. I let out a deep breath that I had been holding and rubbed at my temples. I laid back onto the pillows, letting my eyes trace designs on the ceiling in the dark of the room.

Sleep found me not long after, and no matter what knowledge I had now, or the safety that was Sam across the hall, I had no control of the nightmares that plagued my dreams and danced behind my eyes. Dean Winchester may have been cured. He may be himself around me now. However, what he did will forever live with me, and no angel cure or spell undoing will ever change that.

And so, I walked through the valley of darkness that were my dreams, and I battled the demons caused by the man who stayed down the hall from me. Yet I slept, knowing that what tormented me behind closed eyes was no longer alive, and the man who had broken through the chains around my heart all those years ago was back and in the foreground. Though I wasn’t sure what my feelings were towards him now, knowing that what he did to me was the result of an archangel curse, I did know that perhaps someday, once we tread through the tumultuous ground that was fear and contradiction, we may learn to live in peace with one another, even if he had loved me and hated me; even if I had loved him and hated him. Yet the most important thing, the thing that allowed me to rest, if not soundly, but at all, was the fact that he no longer wanted me dead, nor did he want my blood on his hands.

So though nothing was back to normal, and I didn’t plan on being around Dean anytime soon, perhaps I wouldn’t have to look over my shoulder anymore. Maybe I could finally find the solace and peace that I deserved. I think the world at least owes me that.

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idy-ll-ique · 3 years

Text

Solitude.

Pairing: Loki x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Requested: by @hotsauceonabiscuit

AU where Loki owns a bookshop. Asgardians have found safety in norway I’d have a feeling he’d want to be somewhat distant because of everything. The solitude and occasional judgement of patrons would be enough or so he thought until the reader steps inside for the first time.

Warnings: None

Summary: A few years after the final battle, Loki is doing well in Norway having opened his own library on the outskirts of the new Asgard. He barely has any visitors and he is content with the life he is living. What happens when he meets Y/N, one of the maids working for Valkyrie?

Author’s Note: Hey peeps, I’m back! Thank you for the prompt, @hotsauceonabiscuit, I really enjoyed writing this. I hope you like it, sorry I’m posting it so late! Please read and enjoy, everyone :)

Y/H/C - Your Hair Colour

Y/E/C - Your Eye Colour

---

The bell above the door rang, alerting Loki that someone was in his library. Loki had been a librarian ever since Thor and Valkyrie established a new Asgard in Norway. Thor was off with the Avengers, while Valkyrie became their new ruler.

He was tired of the royal life, which is why he opened a library on the outskirts of the city. He had customers, yes, but a very low number of them. Most of them were repetitive. As he stood in the aisle, wondering who it could be, a soft voice rang throughout the place.

"Hello? Is anyone here? I'll come later if the place is closed." This was someone he had never heard before. Blinking, he walked over to the receptionist's desk to see a petite woman standing there, looking around the place in awe. She had Y/H/C hair and a very, very pretty face.

"Excuse me." She averted her eyes from the aisles and looked at him. "Oh, your majesty! I didn't know you owned this place," she chuckled nervously, looking at him with anxious eyes. "Who are you?" he found himself asking, feeling an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time.

"My name is Y/N Y/L/N, I work with Her Majesty at the castle. Um, do you have any fiction books? You know, mortal fiction," she stammered. A smile lifted his face. "Follow me." He heard her heaving a sigh of relief as she followed him.

"This is a very nice place," she commented, "You must have tons of people swarming the library! I mean, look— the neatly arranged aisles, all genre-sorted… if I could live here, I definitely would." He laughed softly at her words. "You're very welcome, my flat is upstairs," he winked, which made her blush. Even that was adorable.

"Here you are, mortal fiction," he declared as they stood alone in an aisle. "Thank you! Will it be okay if I stay here to read? I'm on a break and I really don't want to spend it at the castle." He frowned at her words. "You're very welcome to stay, miss. Why not at the castle, if I may ask?"

"The other servants there are very, very boring. They don't like books and I can't hold a conversation with any of them." He laughed once more at her honesty. "I used to face the same problem growing up. No one around me was as invested in books as I was." Both of them shook their heads.

"My father and mother used to both work with the All-Father. He was in the army and she was Her Majesty Frigga's maid. I come from a peasant family and therefore, have no access to the royal library. Still, my mother somehow managed to bring books home and that's where my love for them began."

He nodded attentively at her words, glad to have finally found someone who loved solitude and books as much as he did. "That's a brilliant story, darling. Well, I'll leave you alone now, have fun reading. I'll be at the receptionist's desk if you need anything."

"Thanks a bunch, Your Majesty," Y/N grinned at him, clutching the book to her bosom. "Loki will do, Lady Y/L/N," he smiled back. "Same, you can call me Y/N."

With that, Loki left her side and walked back to the receptionist's desk. Y/N found a cozy couch in between two aisles and sat down, getting into her favourite reading position— curled against one corner of the couch, legs pulled up to her chest.

There was silence in the small library afterwards. Y/N sat reading her book, which was the second installment of a book series she started with a month ago. She couldn't find the book anywhere, until one of her coworkers had spoken about there being a library on the outskirts of the city.

She had decided to try her luck here, actually being successful. Loki looked up from his work, distracted by Y/N's presence. Where had he heard the last name before? Y/L/N. His eyes suddenly widened with realization. That's right! Her father was the army and was good friends with Thor. That's where he knew the last name from!

He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to keep himself from groaning. Why was Y/N so captivating? A few hours passed before he heaved a huge sigh and got up, giving in to his mind's requests.

Ask her out for a coffee.

Looking around the place, he finally found her seated on his favourite couch, attentively reading the book. "Y/N?" Startled, she looked up. "Oh, Loki, sir. What brings you here?"

"Just came to check on you. Enjoying the book?" he asked, giving her a strained smile. Just ask her out, Loki, what could go wrong? "Very much! I read the first one a month ago, couldn't find the second one after that. Your library is awesome!" she gushed, grinning. He nodded with appreciation.

"How long does your break last?"

At that, her eyes went comically wide. "Oh no, my break time ended an hour ago!" she panicked, bolting upright. "Let me walk you back to the castle," he offered, surprising himself. "I would love that, thank you. Mind if I take the book back with me? I promise I'll return it tomorrow."

"Yes, you may keep the book, Y/N. Come." The two left the library. As they walked, Y/N resumed reading the book. Loki glanced at her, a small smile blooming on his face. She looked adorable as she disregarded the world around her, her attention grasped by the book.

How did he get attached to her so quickly?

A few meters ahead, Loki noticed a puddle in front of Y/N. He pulled her in by the waist, making her walk around the puddle. She glanced at him, then at the puddle next to her. "Thanks," she whispered, blushing furiously.

Y/N also liked Loki. Had liked him for nearly 15 years in mortal time. She was a teenager when her father had taken her to the castle to meet the King, the Queen and the Princes. Thor knew her father personally; they fought in wars together, he had a high rank.

As soon as she had taken a look at Loki, she was smitten. She knew it was wrong— a prince and a peasant girl? Pfft, as if. She was sure he didn't even remember her. "You're welcome. Maybe keep the book away?"

"Why would I, if you're here with me?" she mumbled distractedly, burying her face in her book once again. Loki, meanwhile, sported a huge smirk on his face at her words. She did have a point. His arm tightened around her waist and they continued their walk to the castle.

---

"Loki, what are you doing here?" Valkyrie blinked as he walked into the courtroom, looking around. "Nice place," he commented instead of answering her. Wow, he had been away from the castle for nearly 6 years, he realized. She simply raised her eyebrow at him. "Fine," he huffed, "I came to drop someone off."

"Who?" Valkyrie questioned, confused. "One your maids, Y/N. She was at my library during her break time, lost track of time," he answered, leaning against a pillar. Everyone else in the room only stared at him.

"Oh, Y/N, I know her. She loves reading, reminds me a lot of you," Valkyrie chuckled. "You're not mad at her? You know, she took an extra hour of break," he asked slowly. "Of course not. We have a lot of people working here, one person missing isn't going to stop anything," she shrugged.

"You're right about that. Well, I bid you adieu, I must go," he sighed, giving her a resigned smile, "It was good to see you again." She smiled back at him. "Likewise. Goodbye," she called out as he turned to leave.

Outside the castle, he saw Y/N. She was with a few of her coworkers, chatting. "Y/N!" It was now or never. All of them looked at him. "Loki," she greeted just as enthusiastically, waving. He didn't miss the way the others immediately started whispering amongst themselves.

"I need to ask you something," he said quietly, holding his hand out. She took it and he led her away from the group. He didn't let go even when they were in private. "What?" Y/N's blush returned. "Will you go on a date with me?" he whispered, staring intently into her beautiful Y/E/C eyes.

"Oh, Loki, sir, I will be honored," she gasped, covering her face with her hand. Had Loki just asked her out on a date? He wished to court her? "That's brilliant. Why don't we return to the library?" he smirked, bringing her hand to his lips. "But— my work—"

"One person missing isn't going to stop anything," he shrugged, repeating Valkyrie's words. "Her Majesty might fire me," Y/N expressed worriedly. "She won't, trust me. Shall we?" Well, he was close with her. "Let's go," she chuckled, leaning on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek.

Her coworkers simply stared at her in shock as the two left without another word, hand in hand. Y/N giggled at their flabbergasted expressions, not believing the fact that she was actually going on a date with the man she had had a crush on for a long, long time.

She was glad she discovered the small library on the outskirts of Asgard.

---

A/N: Please leave a like, thanks for reading!

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki x female reader #loki laufeyson #loki fluff #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x y/n #tom hiddleston x female reader #tom hiddleston characters #disney #mcu #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr

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destiel-love-forever · 4 years

Text

CODA 15x18

Castiel lets himself into the bunker with his key, his hands shaking. The empty let him go. He can’t fucking believe it let him go. It wanted to torment Billy. Give her its full attention. Castiel was last year’s problem. The empty was over it. Bored of it. With a snarky comment about something called Destiel, she had flicked her wrist and sent him here. Home. To Dean.

He sees Sam first. Sam and Jack, the two of them sitting at the map table together, staring off at nothing. Sam straightens, looking on high alert. Then he shoves to his feet and surges forward. “Cas! Wow, Cas, you - you - Dean said you were dead!”

Castiel hugs Sam back, grunting fondly when Jack joins in to squeeze him from behind. He holds on to his family for a long time before gently pulling back and nodding. “The Empty took me but it changed its mind. Didn’t want to put up with me anymore. It’s content having Billy to torment.”

“I can’t believe this. I - Dean!” Sam grabs Castiel’s biceps and squeezes him. “Holy shit, Cas. You have to - he needs to see you. You have to go to Dean!”

“Where is he?” Castiel asks, biting back the questions he really wants to know the answers to. Did he tell them what Castiel confessed? Does Dean feel the same?

“He’s in your room,” Jack says quietly, the boy’s face twisted with emotion. “He won’t come out.”

Castiel’s heart lurches in his chest. He gives Sam and Jack a final smile before hurrying off to his bedroom. He thinks someone should give him a gold star for keeping his cool instead of full-out sprinting down the bunker hall. When he reaches his bedroom door, his hands are trembling. It takes two tries for him to turn the knob.

Before he can step inside, he hears him. Dean. Grumpy and devastated, his voice thick with tears. “Go away, Sam. Seriously. I just wanna be alone.”

Castiel walks into the room and gently shuts the door. He tries to breathe, tries to relax. He tries to prepare himself for rejection. The man on the bed sighs heavily. He’s hugging Castiel’s one and only sweater to his chest, breathing it in. “Sam-”

“Dean,” Castiel says softly, holding still when Dean scrambles into a sitting position on the bed.

“Cas?” Dean sucks in a shuddery breath, furiously wiping at his face. “C-Cas? Is that - are you - Cas?”

Before Castiel can respond, Dean is on his feet and walking forward. He reaches out slowly, hesitantly, before his fingertips finally skim Castiel’s face. Castiel holds his breath.

“Cas, is it really you?”

“Yes, Dean. The Empty allowed my freedom since we helped it get Billy. I didn’t think-”

“You son of a bitch!” Dean breathes. His pretty green eyes fill with more tears as he stares at Castiel in an outraged awe. “How dare you do that!”

Castiel flinches. “Dean…”

“No!” Dean grabs Castiel’s stupid trenchcoat and surges forward with him in toe, shoving him up against the wall. “You just fucking killed me you jackass! How could you - why would - how - dammnit Cas! You drop that shit on me just as you’re sacrificing your life for me? Not fucking fair!”

“Dean…”

“Nope. My turn now.” Dean eases his grip, lifting his chin to look Castiel directly in the eye. His voice shakes when he speaks next. “When you saved me, I didn’t think I deserved it. Part of me… part of me didn’t want to be saved. After everything I had lost. Everything I had done. The things Alistair had me do… It took a long time for me to feel worthy of something. It took you to convince me. We built this thing together. This crazy beautiful thing. Jack and Sam. Me and you. A family. Chuck is pissed because we didn’t follow the script. Because you didn’t follow the script. We’re one of the only things in all of my life that’s real. That wasn’t his doing. You’ve changed me too. Chuck made me into something hardened. My dad’s instrument, just like you said. This self-sacrificial man who never believed he was worthy of happiness. Who always believed I didn’t matter. I was terrified to show weakness. I was terrified to show emotion. I was trapped in this hardened shell, believing I’d never be happy. Not truly happy. And then - then you came into my world, Cas. You doubted your father too. You were a self-sacrificial idiot too. No rest for the self-destructive, right Cas?” Dean huffs a laugh, his eyes softening. “I’m done with it all, Cas. The self-sacrifice. The destruction. The bottling things up. You want me? I’m right here. You love me? Well,” Dean takes a deep breath before allowing his lips to turn up into a smile. “I love you too.”

Castiel feels his knees go weak. He doesn’t have to worry about falling, though. Not when Dean is there. Not when Dean is moving in close, wrapping his strong arms around Castiel’s waist, pulling him in until their foreheads are pressed together. Not when Dean is repeating himself in a breathy whisper, promising again, “I love you too.”

The kiss happens slowly. Organically. Neither of them knows who closes the gap. It doesn’t really matter. All that matters is that it’s finally happening. After all this time. After going through hell - literally. They finally get to have this.

Castiel has never felt more at peace.

Dean has never felt more safe.

Whatever happens next, it doesn’t matter. They’re finally together.

#supernatural #destiel #supernatural season 15 #15x18 #spn 15x18 #15x18 coda #coda #i fixed it #empty #deals #confessions #love confessions #idiots in love #Happy Ending

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heyyyharry · 3 years

Text

Chapter 14: Masquerade

(from ‘The Winter and The Crown’)

…in which there are intruders in the castle.

Word count: 3.1k

AU: queen!y/n, commander!harry

Description: Y/N and Harry set off on a new adventure to find ‘the cure’ for an ancient curse, meanwhile, the enemies are plotting to take her kingdom.

Wattpad link (Reyna as Y/N aka “Peach”)

Y/N had danced her third dance of the night with her third partner. The entire time, she'd kept searching the room for Harry. Where was he? It wasn't like him to promise that he'd be here and not show up. She blamed all the trauma she'd gone through for her being too guarded and anxious, yet she trusted her gut instinct, and tonight, it was telling her to be careful.

The crowd broke into applause at the end of another dance, and Y/N felt a tap on her shoulder.

"May I have a word with you in private?" Lance asked, eyeing Y/N's dance partner. The man took the hint and bowed goodbye to Lance and Y/N. Lance gave Y/N a mysterious grin as he gestured with his hand toward the door, letting her walk first.

"You seem anxious," he pointed out once they were alone in the corridor and the orchestra music became muffled.

"How anxious?" she asked, pulling off her mask.

He kept his mask on, holding his hands together behind his back. "Right now? Not as much as before." He offered a calming smile. "I'm sorry. Is this a bad time to talk about politics?"

"It's never a good time, but go ahead."

Lance hummed his agreement. "I didn't see Mary tonight. I thought Jo was supposed to keep an eye on her."

"She's being kept an eye on. Don't worry. Her room is being guarded," Y/N said, arms crossed. "What's wrong?"

Lance inhaled deeply, catching his breath. "She was to betray us. She was a spy for Calanthe. She told you to go to the North mountain because Calanthe wanted you to lead her there. She also wanted to find the lake. But her plan failed because the forest protected its secrets from outsiders like her."

Y/N's stomach dipped. "How long have you known this?"

"Weeks."

"And you decided to wait until now to tell me?"

"Look," Lance breathed, raking his fingers through his dark locks. "I was going to wait until after tonight because you'd gone through so much–"

"So what made you decide to tell me in the middle of my dance?"

Lance worked his jaw. For once, he was inarticulate. "This might sound stupid, but...it was my gut feeling telling me to tell you right away."

Y/N bit her lip. "So...why are you keeping this a secret? Why are you protecting the witch?"

Lance hesitated. "I don't want to hurt Jo..."

"Jo?" It took Y/N a moment to realize what he meant. Her heart dropped. "Oh, no, Jo...She was looking for someone tonight. I thought it was you."

"No," Lance chuckled, shaking his head. "Jo doesn't like me like that. Or at all."

"Everyone likes you."

"Is that so?" His eyebrow lifted in amusement. "Well, I'm very flattered, Your Majesty, but I don't think me being likeable could do much good for us. Calanthe has a plan."

"What plan?" Y/N scoffed. "Is there something else you're not telling me?"

"It's not a fact, just my speculation."

"Go ahead."

Lance rubbed his chin. "Well, I think George Wallace was murdered, but not by one of our people."

Y/N took a moment to let that sink in. "What are you implying? That it was a setup?"

Lance nodded, his eyebrows knitted. Y/N watched his grey eyes dance behind the mask as he observed his surroundings before lowering his voice. "They sent him here to kill him. He was the bait. No one would suspect Calanthe to sacrifice her most trusted advisor."

"Harry said the same thing," Y/N said and chewed on the inside of her cheek.

"What?"

Her head shot up. She blinked at Lance. "What?"

Lance cocked his head to the side. "Is everything all right between you two?"

The question wasn't sarcasm with the intention of taunting her. Lance genuinely cared about her feelings despite his own. Knowing so, she could not help but think about what he'd said the other night and earlier on the dance floor. First and last dance...

No. She was overthinking again. She wasn't allowed to have these thoughts. This political chaos was already too much to handle. There was no time for personal business.

"Nothing is all right, Lance. You know that," Y/N answered with a soft sigh.

Lance nodded, his lips pressed tightly together.

Just as the uncomfortable silence threatened to creep back in, a guard showed up, gasping for air as he bowed to Y/N and Lance. Y/N thought to herself, 'Not another dead body,' and her limbs went numb as she remembered that Harry was nowhere to be found tonight. He could be anywhere in the castle. Who knew what could have happened to him?

"Your Majesty," the guard said between laboured breaths. "There are intruders in the castle."

"Where?" asked Lance, his fingers secured around his sword-hilt.

"The west wing," the guard said. "Commander Harry saw someone."

"Where's Harry?" Y/N asked, her stomach knotted. She unconsciously reached for the sword at her side, only to be reminded that she was wearing a ball gown, and there was still a dance going on behind those doors. She was stupid and careless enough to have gathered all the important people here tonight.

"The Commander went after the intruder, Your Majesty. We suspect there are more than one."

"Fucking idiot!" cried Y/N as she picked up her skirt and ran. She heard Lance telling the guard to keep the ballroom secured and make sure no one came and left. Then he chased after her.

If that idiot Harry didn't die tonight, she would kill him with her bare hands.

Harry wanted to skip the dance. People had been whispering about him since he'd returned, so he didn't want to draw more attention to himself by dancing with the Queen herself. However, he'd promised Y/N he'd be there for her, and he never wanted to let her down. And so he deliberately took a bit longer to get ready just to show up late and blend right into the crowd.

The castle was so quiet tonight with almost everyone being in the ballroom. Harry could hear the music all the way from his chamber. He took one last look at himself in the mirror before adjusting his mask and leaving for the dance. He was accompanied by a guard, which made him quite uncomfortable. Still, he knew it was all for his safety. Everyone must be careful after the murder of George Wallace.

"Help!" a scream tore through the night, causing both Harry and the guard to whirl around. A shadow dashed out of the darkness and crashed right into him. He caught the person with both arms and was terrified to find that it was a woman covered in blood.

Mary.

"Help!" she choked, tears streaming down her scarred face. Her hands were shaking as she smeared blood all over his shirt. "They're...they're dead! They wanted to kill me!"

"Who?"

"The guards," Mary sobbed, her face as white as the moon-washed floor. "They're dead! A man killed them and...was chasing after me! He had a weapon!"

"Take her somewhere safe," Harry told the guard, pulling Mary up to her feet.

"You're not coming, Commander?" the guard asked Harry.

Harry opened his mouth to answer when all of a sudden, he spotted a tall and slim figure lurking in the shadows of the corridor. It vanished in a blink of an eye. Harry knew it headed to the courtyard for there was nowhere else to go.

"There are intruders in the castle," Harry told the guard, his heart pounding. "Send backups. Alarm the King and Queen!" And without waiting for the guard or Mary to stop him, Harry ran after whom he assumed was the murderer.

He didn't stop until he was deep in the garden. The snow was falling peacefully all around while the beating of his heart accelerated. Thousands of tiny candles dotted ledges hidden throughout the topiaries. It would have seemed magical had the fog ever lifted. Now the little lights played strangely with the mist, creating shadowy phantoms, there one moment and gone the next. Harry gripped his sword with cold and numb fingers, overwhelmed with anxiety as he scanned his eyes around.

Suddenly, he became aware of another's presence behind him and swung his sword just in time to deflect the blow. The person stumbled back. A clang of metal on metal. A whoosh. Harry let out a gasp as he felt the cold tip of the blade at his throat. Meanwhile, he was holding his sword with an outstretched hand, pointing straight at Lance's heart.

"You," Lance said, catching his breath. He seemed relieved, which confused Harry.

"You!"

"Peach!" Harry and Lance bounced away from each other as Y/N rushed up to them. She looked beautiful in her golden dress, yet she also looked angry...

"Mind explaining what happened?" she asked before Harry could open his mouth. Lance put his sword away, assessing Harry with a raised eyebrow.

"Someone killed the guards outside Mary's room," Harry said, hating the way Y/N's face grew grim. "They tried to kill her but she escaped."

Y/N groaned as she hugged her arms around her chest, gooseflesh rippling over all that bare skin. It was far too cold to be out.

"You shouldn't be here," Harry said. Y/N's eyes sharpened furiously at him. He was expecting her to snap when a broken branch alerted the three of them.

"Y/N!" cried Lance, but he didn't react fast enough. Y/N had yanked the sword out of his hand and chased after the figure. Harry could see it a bit clearer now. It looked like a man wearing a dark cloak. He exchanged horrified looks with Lance and both sprinted after Y/N and the intruder.

"Show your face!" Y/N shouted as she studied the garden in silence. From where they stood, the ballroom, shining so brightly inside, could barely be seen. The orchestra's music echoed eerily in the fog. Y/N looked half-crazed. Her words came out in smoke. "Surrender and maybe I'll spare your life."

There were footsteps padding towards them, gaining speed, closing the distance. There was more than one person.

As they closed in, Harry spun around. He drew his sword and struck at eye level. A cry of pain answered him. Y/N deflected the blow and lunged with her sword, which met with the figure's blade which gleamed in the moonlight. Beside Harry, Lance was dodging every strike. He was quick, yet unable to fight back without a weapon.

Harry heard Y/N mutter something under her breath, her eyes met his for a second, and he could see the helplessness in them. She wanted to protect Lance.

Harry took down the man charging at him with a swing of his sword before thrusting it right through the one cornering Lance. Lance looked up at him, wide-eyed, breathing out smoke. He hadn't expected Harry to help him.

Y/N's sudden cry startled both men. They turned. Like a silver snake, the last intruder's sword shot out and caught Y/N in the shoulder. She fell with a hard thud to the ground.

"Peach!"

"Y/N!"

Lance and Harry bolted towards her. The murderer took that chance to flee, disappearing into the fence maze when Harry looked up. The heavily falling snow had covered all the footsteps like a perfect accomplice. The garden returned to its peacefulness as if there hadn't been a crime committed against the Queen.

"I'm fine," Y/N said, wincing as she held her shoulder. Red blood was trickling down her skin, staining the snow, bringing back to Harry the unpleasant memories of those nights in the woods. He was reminded once again that he could lose her any moment if they weren't careful.

Lance put an arm around her as he helped her stand up. Harry tore his sleeve and wrapped the piece of fabric around her wound to temporarily stop the blood. His heart ached as he watched her bite back the pain. Blood had stained her beautiful dress. Then, Harry noticed that Lance was looking at her with the same agony in his eyes. It was like looking into a mirror. Harry and Lance both hurt the same.

"Y/N!"

"Your Majesty!"

Jo and five guards finally showed up. Jo gasped into her palms when she saw that Y/N was bleeding. "Oh, Y/N, you're hurt!"

"Took you long enough!" Lance snapped at the guards. "I would have had all of you beheaded had something bad happened to the Queen!"

The guards muttered their apologies which were silenced by Lance's raised hand.

"I don't think they wanted me dead," Y/N spoke. She sounded strangely calm for someone who'd just been stabbed. "If they did, they would've killed me already."

"They're here for the witch. They knew she betrayed them," Lance said.

"Betray?" Jo muttered.

Lance's expression shifted. Harry reckoned that Lance hadn't meant to let Jo find out this way. Harry wasn't sure he was more shocked by the news or Jo's reaction to it. He had never seen her so genuinely hurt by anyone that wasn't Y/N.

"She was a spy for Calanthe," said Y/N, seemingly too in pain to acknowledge her friend's pained expression. "Don't worry. We'll take care of that."

"You're not going to...hurt her, are you?" Jo said, her voice wavering.

Lance placed a hand on Jo's shoulder. For the first time, he was showing sympathy with a servant. "We're not. Don't worry."

Jo nodded, yet the uncertainty was etched on her face as she wrapped an arm around Y/N's waist, escorting her back inside.

Harry lit a candle beside Y/N's bed. She was lying on her back, watching him. Her shoulder had been bandaged. It didn't hurt as much as before yet she could not shake off the fear she'd felt earlier in the garden. She wished she'd seen those men's faces. She believed they were the Monks. Calanthe had either sent them here to kill the witch or to light a match that would start a war.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, his hand placed over of hers.

"About what?" she chuckled. "Tonight wasn't your fault."

"You came to the garden to find me."

"Yes, I did it by choice." She squeezed his fingers and cracked a reassuring smile. "I can take care of myself. Don't you worry. I'm brave."

"I know," Harry sighed. "Brave people tend to get themselves in trouble."

Y/N snorted as she rolled her eyes. "Trouble follows me everywhere I go. So many people have wanted me dead. But look at me now. I'm the Queen, and I'm not losing my crown to anyone. I'm not letting them take my father's kingdom."

Harry exhaled, a smile playing on his lips. He reached out and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she said.

There was a knock on the door. "Y/N?"

"It's–"

"Lance," Harry said, his expression unreadable.

The door creaked open and Lance poked his head into the room, looking surprised to see Harry there. "I'll leave," Lance said.

"No, I'll leave," Harry said, smiling at Y/N. "Goodnight, my queen." Then, he kissed her hand and got up to go.

"Hey," Lance stopped him halfway through the door. "Thank you for earlier."

"No problem," Harry replied. With just that, he was gone, shutting the door on his way out.

"Glad to see my fake future wife still alive," Lance said as he made his way to the bed to sit down at Harry's previous spot.

Y/N let out a light laugh. "I'm sorry I took your sword."

Lance squinted his eyes in amusement. "Yeah, and still, you managed to get yourself hurt."

She scowled at him and punched his shoulder as a joke. He pretended to wince in pain before busting out laughing. "Sorry." Lance cleared his throat, suppressing a grin. "How's your shoulder?"

"It hurts less. Thanks for asking."

"It wasn't like you to be so careless," he said.

Y/N pursed her lips. "I was distracted."

"By?"

"I was...worried you'd get hurt," she mumbled. Even without looking at him, she could still feel his notorious smirk growing wider.

"Don't let that happen on the battlefield," he said. "I can take care of myself, with a sword, of course. But you should always remember that the enemy wants your head more than mine."

Y/N swallowed hard as Lance reached out his hand. She watched him ponder for a second before gathering enough courage to place his hand on top of hers. Just like Harry had before. Harry's touch had been natural and comfortable. As for Lance, she felt him turning into a bundle of nerves.

"You're too good for me," she said.

His eyes danced as he chuckled. "No one is too good for anyone." Then he sucked in a breath. "I hope we'll both be alive after this."

"We will," she said even though she was unsure.

"What will happen then?"

"We get married. For our kingdoms."

Lance's smile faltered. He clenched his jaw and looked away, his fingers sliding off hers. "We don't have to if Calanthe's dead," he whispered.

"Our people expect a wedding."

Lance shook his head and switched his gaze back to her. "Forget what the people want. What do you want, Y/N?"

"I can't just forget what the people want. I'm their queen."

Lance's lips slightly parted yet he said nothing more. It was hard to tell if he'd run out of arguments or simply didn't want to start.

"Let's try to stay alive and find out," he said with a thin smile. "Goodnight."

She watched him get up, looking rather weary. The complete opposite of the charming king he'd been at the dance.

"Why did you say it was our last dance?" she asked before he reached the door.

He looked over his shoulder, lips curled to the side. "It was a joke. Because you said you didn't want to dance with me, which I hope was also a joke."

"It was." She gave a small smile. "I loved dancing with you."

"Good," he said, weakly. "Rest well, Y/N."

"So do you," Y/N said.

As quietly as a shadow, Lance slipped out of the room.

#tctm series #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles

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eminems-skittles · 3 years

Text

broken mugs and broken hearts [spencer reid x reader]

spencer reid x fem!reader warnings: angst, breakup word count: 1.7k ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

the smell of night lingered in the room as a chilled wind rustled the blinds of the open window. crickets chirped in the distance and the hum of car engines from the busy street met her ears. she sighed as she settled into the warm blankets on their shared bed. well, now it was her bed. she let her eyes wander around the room, memories of them, of him flooding her mind. her eyes drifted to the corner of the room, the memory of when they slow danced in candlelight playing in her mind. tears gathered in her eyes. she looked away, focusing on the side of the bed that he slept on. it was still made, untouched since the morning he left. the only thing out of place was his pillow, which she swapped for her own. it smelled like him. the scent of old books and coffee lingered on the pillow even after two weeks. she thought back to the weeks leading up to their demise, silently scolding herself for not realizing sooner. a tear slid down her cheek. she thought about the morning they broke up. the morning he effortlessly shattered her heart into a million tiny pieces, leaving her to clean up the shards of their love by herself.

y/n walked into the sun bathed kitchen humming the song that had been stuck in her head for the past three days. she wasn't sure where she had heard it but she couldn't seem to get the catchy tune out of her head. she floated through the kitchen, the rhythmic click of her heels paired with her humming alerted spencer of her presence. he held his breath as she pressed a kiss to his cheek, mumbling 'good morning, darling.' he stiffly nodded his head, his eyes remaining on the newspaper in his hands. y/n pulled away, confused by his lack of response.

"everything alright, darling?" she asked as she slowly moved to the counter to pour herself a cup of coffee. once again she was met with silence. "darl-"

"i can't do this any more," spencer interrupted, his voice harsh and low.

"you can't do what anymore?" she asked cautiously.

"this. i can't be in this relationship anymore. i can't," he forced out.

"did i do something? we can fix this. please," y/n begged. tears began to slide down her cheeks, her makeup following the wet trails.

"we can't fix this."

"yes we ca-"

"no, y/n." she was taken aback by the force in his voice. "we can't fix this because i don't want to fix it. i don't love you anymore."

and with that final blow to her heart, he grabbed his jacket and walked out the front door. she held onto the counter, gripping it as if her life depended on it. in a strange way, maybe her life did depend on it. if she let go, she would surely collapse and who knows if she'd be able to pull herself up. she couldn't even comprehend what had just happened. in a matter of minutes, her life had been flipped upside down. she stared at the table as hot tears furiously fell from her eyes. his cereal was barely touched, the milk still sitting on the counter. his coffee cup was next to the bowl, mocking her as she wept. of course he had chosen to use the mug she got him for a secret santa that penelope had arranged several years ago. y/n strode over to the table and delicately lifted the mug up to her eyes. she examined it for a second before turning towards the empty wall. she laughed to herself, remembering how her and spencer always said they were going to hang up their pictures but never got around to doing it. her bitter laughter turned into painful sobs as she thought more about it. without even thinking, she threw the mug at the blank wall. she barely flinched when it crashed into a million small pieces. she had done to the mug what spencer did to her heart, and she couldn't bring herself to clean up the pieces of broken glass. not when she had to clean up the pieces of a broken heart and broken relationship. she trudged over to her phone and called her best friend.

"y/n? where are you? you were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago," emily's voice, full of concern, flood through the speakers.

"can you...can you tell hotch i won't be in today?" y/n sniffled.

"are you alright? oh hey, reid. what's up with y/n?" she heard emily ask.

"don't ask him," y/n breathed out. "we...we broke up this morning."

"oh sweetie," emily sighed. "i'll come over tonight okay?"

y/n sighed as she recalled the night that followed their split. she spent several hours crying into emily's shoulder. emily didn't ask about the broken glass on the floor, and y/n didn't explain.

in the two weeks since they broke up, y/n didn't go to work. instead, she laid in bed all day with the blinds drawn shut and blankets piled over her. she cried until she felt her lungs burn and her head ache, longing for spencer to be there holding her. she barely checked her phone, letting all of her phone calls go to voicemail. she had completely cut herself off from the world outside of her bedroom.

more tears fell as she recalled the past two weeks. she brought the back of her hand up to her teary eyes, brushing away as many tears as she could.

a sharp knock on her front door brought her mind back to the room. her eyes lazily dragged from spencer's pillow to the clock on the night stand. 11:34. she hesitantly got out of bed, pulling spencer's old sweater tighter around her body. she slowly padded down the hallway the person knocked again. she froze when she heard the jangling of keys and a lock unlocking. when the door swung open, she gasped in shock.

"what are you doing here?" she asked him. the only thing separating them was the kitchen table. well, that and the broken mug that she had yet to sweep up.

"i was worried about you. emily and penelope said you haven't been returning their calls," spencer explained as he stood awkwardly by the door. his eyes trailed from her to the broken mug strewn across the floor. "what happened?"

"what happened? what happened?" y/n asked, bitter humor in her voice. "what happened, spencer, is you did to me what i did to that mug. you took my heart and you smashed it into millions of tiny pieces and you didn't even bother to clean up the mess."

"y/n-"

"no, spencer. now is my chance to speak. you said everything you needed to say two weeks ago. do you know how painful it's been? how hard it is to try to fall asleep knowing that the love of your life doesn't love you anymore? or knowing that the love of your life just left you there to break into a million tiny pieces without caring about the aftermath? because i do. it's hell, spencer. it's actual hell. i've never felt so much pain in my entire life. what did i do wrong? was i not enough for you? did you find someone new who was prettier or-" spencer cut her off by pressing his lips to hers. y/n pushed his chest lightly. "don't do that spencer. you don't get to do that anymore. you don't love me, remember?"

"y/n, i made a mistake," spencer sighed. "i thought that if i cut things off with you, that if i ended things, i'd be able to keep you safe."

"spencer, we have the same job. we are constantly in danger. don't lie to me," y/n said, walking over to the couch. spencer followed her but sat on the coffee table in front of her.

"i'm not lying, y/n. i just- i wanted to protect you from cat. if you're with me, you're a target to her. i didn't want you to be hurt, or..." he trailed off.

"or killed," y/n finish. spencer nodded. he hesitantly picked up her hand, breathing a sigh of relief when she interlocked their fingers. "spencer..."

"i didn't mean it. i still love you. i love you more than i can accurately describe. i honestly don't know why i did it. i really thought that i was helping keep you safe but instead i hurt you more than cat ever could," spencer said, his eyes never leaving hers. "please, take me back, y/n."

"spencer, you really hurt me and that's not okay. i understand why you did it but it still hurt," y/n mumbled.

"i know, y/n. i know i fucked up but please give me one chance and i'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

y/n was silent for a second and the sounds of crickets and cars filled the room. she squeezed his hand lightly and smiled at him. "one more chance. but let me make this clear, if you ever pull that shit again, then we're done. for real."

"i completely understand. words cannot express how truly sorry i am, y/n. i was an asshole and i shouldn't have said the things i said. i love you," spencer whispered the last three words.

"i love you too, spencer. now come on, you owe me two weeks worth of hugs, cuddles and kisses," y/n said. spencer smiled at her before leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. when they broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling. "oh, um, sorry about your mug."

"don't worry about it," he whispered. he helped her off the couch and led her to their room.

the two of them slid into their respective sides before meeting in the middle, as if a magnet was pulling them together. spencer pulled y/n into his side, peppering several kisses across her forehead and cheeks.

"i missed this," he mumbled into her hair. "again, my love, i am so incredibly sorry."

"i know you are, spence. i know," y/n whispered back, kissing underneath his jaw.

silence fell over the two of them as the cold wind rustled the blinds, as crickets chirped and cars sped down the busy street a few blocks away. but all they focused on was the other's breathing. the sound of each and every inhale and exhale. the sound that told them they were home.

#cassie's masterlist #{ writing }#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfic #{ criminal minds }#criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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the-fusionist · 4 years

Text

There’s Blood on His Mouth (1)

Author’s Note: Hello! This is my first fic, so constructive criticism is welcome! Special thanks to the Maribat Fandom Group Chat for all the encouragement! I will continue to update this story, as there are already several chapters written out. If you would like to be added to the tag list, just tell me! I’m super nervous about this, but here we go!

Chapter 1 (Here) Chapter 2

To say the least, Damian al-Ghul Wayne didn’t expect to see Ladybug swinging her legs as she sat on top of the adjacent building to Wayne Enterprises. The location was private and made for a good stake out spot where she remained unseen to the commuters below. She was admiring the smoky view of an early Gotham morning while sipping coffee from a ladybug themed thermos she had brought up with her, before she abruptly turned around and smirked at him.

“You know you can’t sneak up on me, Robin,” she smiled smugly.

He stood behind her, in the shadows as always. Damian swept his gaze over her unearthly blue-bell eyes, red mouth, and ebony hair. Her mask was in place, the black spots coordinating with her suit.

Realizing he was staring, Damian cleared his throat, “What gave you the assumption that my aim was to ambush you?”

“Your unwillingness to announce yourself, but I do suppose that’s normal for you,” Ladybug quipped back at him, smiling deviously.

“As you should know perfectly well,” he replied stoically.

She sighed and turned back to the view, “I suppose you win this round of our arguments.”

Damian said nothing and walked out into the light, and stood behind her. His eyes were drawn to her adorable pigtails, although he would never admit he found them cute. His gloved hands slowly found their way to the red scrunchies holding her hair up and slowly removed them. They gave way and her hair came loose into lustrous, midnight waves.

She turned around to him from her perch on the edge of the building, pouting, “I have an important appointment after this, and you just ruined my hair. Naughty Robin.”

His blush rose at her last comment, but he was quick to reply with, “As if you care.”

When she gave no response, he slowly sat down next to her. To his mute shock, his long time friend (although he would never admit they were more) leaned onto his shoulder.

Both of them had a complicated relationship with the other. They couldn’t deny attraction, but both had agreed they couldn’t endanger their alter egos by having such a relationship. So they rarely had any sort of intimacy and their identities would remain a guarded secret. Not that it ever stopped them from enjoying the other’s company.

Damian slowly leaned back into her, until their masked frames were resting against each other against the rather smoky backdrop of a Gotham morning. He felt her lean away, and he stiffened in disappointment.

“I actually do have an appointment though. I can’t stay much longer, but I was in the area and I figured you would turn up,” Ladybug told him.

“Liar. I know you memorized my patrol route, Angel,” he smiled, something he rarely did in the presence of others.

“No matter, you showed up anyway. I do have to leave though, I don’t want to be late,” she added, blushing at the nickname.

Damian merely sighed, and he felt her shift next to him. He automatically assumed she was leaving, and he turned his head towards her to bid her farewell. However, he didn’t expect to come into contact with her mesmerizing blue eyes just as they shut and her blood red lips pressed awkwardly into his.

He sputtered, shocked at the attention and pulled away. She did the same and he watched, mesmerized at her captivating face framed by her midnight locks.

She blushed furiously, rambling, “I was trying to kiss your cheek. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make it awkward. I didn’t mean it Robin, I’m so sorry!”

Her sputtering stopped abruptly as he cupped her face with his gloved hands and leaned in, whispering, “Don’t be.”

Their faces were close, gazing into each other’s eyes. But then Robin came closer. His mouth met her’s and their eyes shut peacefully. Damian's gloved fingers slid languidly into her loose hair, further making a mess of it, as she pressed herself closer to him. Her hands ran over his suit that she often referred to as a traffic light costume. As he gently tugged her hair, their kiss became more carnal and she pried open his mouth with her tongue. She moaned into his mouth and moved to straddle him as he pulled the two of them away from the edge of the building.

They were basking in each other’s presence when Robin’s comms beeped loudly to life, startling the two of them. They gasped for air as they reluctantly pulled away from each other. Both of them were a mess, with mussed hair and Ladybug’s lipstick smeared on the two of them. Robin checked to see what the alert was. He cursed as he read the message from Alfred, reminding him that he needed to appear at Wayne Enterprises in a few hours to review some files with Master Tim. He scowled at the message.

Next to him, Ladybug had flipped open her yoyo and was checking the time with her matching thermos in her other hand.

“Shit!” she cursed, “I need to go right now or else I’m going to be late for my appointment! Au revoir Robin!”

He watched mutely as she swung away, having mixed feelings about their kiss. However, there wasn’t enough time to dwell on it. The red scrunchies that she had previously worn lay discarded on the building’s roof. He quickly grabbed them and slid them onto his wrist, making a mental note to return them. Damian rose from his position on the roof of the building and began his hasty journey back to Wayne Manor to get changed into something more acceptable for a visit to a billion dollar company. After all, he didn’t want to disappoint Father and be late.

Tag List: @rebecarojas07 @theatreandcomicfreak @princessanimeangel11 @maribatlife @18-fandoms-unite-08 @myblacknightworld @ethelphantom

#daminette #maribat #maribat au #maridami #damian x marinette #marinette x damian #marinette dupain cheng #mdc #BatFam #mlb x dc #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fandom #crossover #Damian Wayne #ml x dc #idk what to tag here #there's blood on his mouth

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the-eve-of-lies · 4 years

Text

Kitchen Escapades (J. WY)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Exhibitionism, Voyeurism

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung/Reader + Choi San

"Stay out of my kitchen," Wooyoung warned, knowing you're up to no good as you strutted inside HIS kitchen clad in his shirt and underwear alone. It was too early in the morning and it was too risky to be fooling around while the others were sleeping.

"No." Your response was absolute and knowing you, you weren't going to leave when you didn't get what you want.

"Look," Wooyoung began, ceasing his chopping to face you, "I love you and all but if you're going to do anything—"

"You're the one who said that," you countered, "I'm just here to watch my boyfriend cook. Is that so bad, Wooyoung?"

Wooyoung's shoulders slouched. You had won the silly argument no doubt. But something lingered at the back of his mind. You're not one to wake up early just to watch him cook when you've been at it like rabbits last night and he was sure you were sore down there but here you were.

Brat.

He returned back to chopping, preparing the ingredients and then actual cooking while you made yourself comfortable by sitting on one of the kitchen chairs, elbow propped on the table with your chin resting against your palm.

He was a sight to see. And he was yours.

Sleeveless shirt which didn't hide the tattoo on his ribcage and loose-fitting pants. His black hair messy yet that made him even sexier. His toned arms producing veins once in a while when he exerted strength into chopping.

You felt yourself growing wet. And if he found out you were but a naughty girl with intentions to have him fuck you on the kitchen counter, you're doomed not to walk properly for about a few days.

Yet the sight of him alone was tempting. Last night's images of him moaning and writhing in pleasure as you sucked his cock and overstimulated him to no end played in your mind.

You bit your lip, removing the arm propped on the table and moving it under, slowly moving your panties to the side as you touched yourself. You kept looking at him, hoping you wouldn't get caught pleasuring yourself at the sight of your boyfriend cooking a hearty meal for the members—but maybe you'd like to get caught? It was always fun that way.

Your finger slowly worked in and out of you so as not to create a sound. But you were so wet that you were sure you were making a sound anyways. You sharply breathed through your nose, eyes locked on your boyfriend's back—you surely left scratches there during last night's session.

How you'd like to strip him naked and admire the fading scratches. You quickened your pace but that didn't go unnoticed the second Wooyoung turned to you.

"Ah," he drawled out, pointing the spatula at you, "you said you were just going to watch!"

Giving him a lazy smirk, you leaned against the back of the chair freely fingering yourself now, daring him to watch or to punish you—anything! Seeing him like this, first thing in the morning, affects you in a great amount.

You love him so, so much that all shame's drowned out by your neediness.

But he seemed pleased even though his next words are: "If you have the energy to spend fucking yourself with your hands, why don't you come here and use both hands and mouth to pleasure me instead? "

Wooyoung cocked his head to the side, mischievous eyes glinting under the artificial light. A challenge. He moved to lower the heat of the stove then faced you again.

"What do you say?" he asked for your confirmation.

Your hand halted as you gave him a once over, lingering on the obvious bulge on his trousers. The offer was tempting. You licked your lips and pulled your fingers out, a trail of slick connecting your cunt and ring finger. The empty filling would be sated soon.

He motioned for you to come to him and of course, being a good girl, you obliged.

Your legs were a bit shaky from the pleasure you had given yourself but you managed to stand in front of him, bracing your other hand on the counter so as not to topple.

He stirred the dish he was cooking and added some seasonings before stirring it again and covering the pot with the lid. Only then did he step closer to you, and brought your finger—the one you inserted in yourself—to his mouth and sucked, a groan escaping his lips at the taste of you.

"Fucking kneel," Wooyoung growled, eyeing you as if you were his next meal and not the dish he was cooking. "Be on your knees and warm my cock like a good whore."

Who were you to deny?

You sunk on your knees and put your hands on his slender hips, squeezed lightly as a tease of what's to come.

But Wooyoung was impatient and using his free hand, he grabbed you by your hair and tugged so you were face to face with his clothed cock. "Hurry and do it."

You moaned at his roughness and replied, "So impatient, Wooyoung-ah. "

"You have that power over me apparently."

You finally pulled his pants down along with his boxers and his cock sprung free, red and angry, just begging to be touched and sucked.

You gave his cock a teasing lick but Wooyoung gave you another warning tug. You were weak for him anyway so there's no point in wasting time. You wanted to taste him more than the food he was currently cooking. You wanted him.

He let out a pleased hum. "My good girl. That's right. Keep doing that..." He let go of your hair to grip the counter and the hand that was holding the spatula shook. "I-I'll prepare the food. I'm a-almost—ah—almost done."

You hummed again, the vibrations against his cock threatening to send him over the edge. You sucked harder, hollowing your cheeks and tracing the veins of his cock with your tongue, your hands massaging his balls. The sounds he let out were absolutely sinful. If the members were already awake, they'd hear him surely and seeing as you both were quite freaky, you and him wouldn't mind.

Drool escaped the sides of your mouth, landing on the floor and some sliding down your neck.

If Wooyoung could have his way, he might even invite San for a threesome. The members know you have a very active sexual life and you even caught most of the members (namely San, Yeosang and Mingi) watching you with a predatory gaze whenever they thought you weren't looking. You had asked Wooyoung about it but he seemed eager rather than angry.

His hand trembled as he removed the lid and his unfocused eyes tried to take note of the state of his dish. Grabbing a spoon nearby, he dunked it in the soup to have a taste.

You gently scraped your teeth against his cock which had him choke as he tasted the delicious outcome of his dish.

"No matter how tasty this is, your taste is st-still exquisite..." Wooyoung muttered, fumbling to turn off the stove and he slammed the spoon on the counter, creating a noise which surely alerted the others in the dorm.

He bucked his hips into your mouth, thrusting shallowly. Upon noticing you took it all without a problem, his thrusts became deep until his cock was buried in your mouth to the hilt. Only then did you gag and began breathing through your nose, cheeks still hollowed and tongue still working wonders on his cock.

He worked his way in and out of your mouth, tiny whines and gasps echoing throughout the kitchen. He trusted faster and you bobbed your head, meeting his thrusts while looking deep into his eyes, admiring his wrecked expression.

"I love you, " he whispered, "I love y-you. T-take it all. Take my cum, swallow it—take it—ah—" His breath hitched as his climax took over him, his cock at the back of your throat spurting thick ropes of cum. You swallowed all that you could but it was inevitable that a few drops would spill the second you detached yourself from him.

Wooyoung's chest heaved from that mind-blowing orgasm, his cock still out in open-air. You tucked a lock of hair behind your ear and looked back at him with a satisfied smirk.

Seeing you like that, still obedient and patiently waiting for your turn, made Wooyoung lose all sense of control.

He yanked you up to stand and pressed your lips together, messily kissing, tongues intertwining. He kissed you without pulling away even when you were gasping for air which led you to become lightheaded. But you didn't mind. Kissing Wooyoung is another favourite of yours.

He pulled away but attacked your jaw with tiny nips and kitten licks; messy like you two at the moment.

But then you could hear a pair footsteps moving closer to the kitchen. You tapped Wooyoung, furiously whispering as he sucked love bites on your neck, "Wooyoung, someone's coming—"

"That never stopped us before, didn't it?"

San, the owner of those footsteps called out, " 'young-ah, what's for breakfast?"

Something told you today would be the day you're going to start something new as cliche as it was.Wooyoung didn't respond to San and continued his ministrations.

Pretty soon, you saw the speaker standing in the doorway, rubbing his eyes to shake off sleep. Wooyoung's hands moved to cup your ass, squeezing one of your mounds that made you squeak. Horror and delight of being caught filled you to the core.

San looked up, his eyes finally focusing on you. Gaze darkening, San licked his lips.

#wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung oneshot #wooyoung scenario #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez scenario #ateez wooyoung #ateez x reader

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nade2308 · 3 years

Note

Whump drabbles — Separated for Mac & Jack ☺️

Hope this one is good ;)

Alina Chernyshevsky was a Russian scientist working at a lab in LA, on a scholarship who was kidnapped by a rogue crime group almost a week ago. The Phoenix was tasked with recovering her and capturing any of the members of the group they could find. It turned out that the son of a banker, the daughter of a businessman and the brother and sister, the kids of one of the most powerful Romanian crime groups had one thing in common. They wanted to get out from under the shadow that their parents put them in. So they formed their own union, and thanks to the ties Andrei Bogdan, their leader, had from his father's world, they quickly made their way up in the underground dark world. Climbing up the ladders, they did the odd jobs here and there, hits on important people for hire, and it was based on their combined knowledge of the finances, the system and the law, that they stayed undetected and under the radar for so long. Until Alina discovered some sample or another in the lab that was brought for testing and she made herself a target and was kidnapped in broad daylight.

When the search for her didn't yield results, the team stepped in to try and find her. And if their intel and the search that Riley did on the dark web was correct, they were on their way to rescue her.

Mac and Jack split up to cover more ground while Riley provided tech support from the van as a TAC team was securing the place.

It happened all of a sudden. Mac found Alina. She was locked in a room with a see-through door and there was someone inside the room with her. It looked a lot like Andrei and Mac had a split of the second to decide what to do before someone put a gun to his neck and punched the digits to the lock. The door opened with a whoosh, sliding to the left and Andrei approached Mac and whoever was pointing a gun at him.

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in. Who are you and what are you doing on my premises?”

Mac stared at Andrei. At 6'2'' he was taller than Mac and bulkier, so he towered easily over him. But Mac held his ground and the guy's look. He wasn't going to give in to the fear.

“You must be here for our beautiful friend here, no? I doubt you got lost out here by yourself… Tell me, pretty boy, is there someone else with you here?”

Mac tried not to flinch at the pretty boy comment, but was unsuccessful.

Andrei noticed.

“Aww, don't tell me no one has called you pretty before… because you are. Now, where were we. Ah, our friend. I assume you are here for her?”

Mac still didn't say a word and watched with a bored look. At least he hoped it looked bored.

“I've been into business since before you were born, boy, so I suggest you start talking. Or I'll make you talk.”

The suggestive once over Andrei gave him made Mac feel nauseated. The indication of how exactly Andrei planned to make him talk…

“If you won't talk, I will continue talking with my friend Alina here. Sonja, take him to another holding cell.”

Those last words were spoken on Romanian and thanks to Mac learning a brief and short course in Romanian he was able to understand.

"Wait. Wait. I… I'm here to trade myself for her. Our government wants her. And they are willing to make the exchange. Me for her."

Mac could see Alina's surprise. It wasn't like she knew that he was bluffing, but if he could get her out… then maybe Jack was right behind him to help. Mac could do that. He could stall.

Andrei seemed to consider the trade and then he nodded and motioned for the guy… or rather the woman who was holding him at gunpoint, to grab Alina.

"Very well, you will get what you want. You in exchange for her. Now that she is out of our way… what are you offering in return?"

Mac gulped. This wasn't part of the plan. He was supposed to get her out and then… then what?

Think, genius, think!

Where was Jack?

As if on cue there were sounds outside in the hall of flesh hitting flesh and Mac sighed in relief. But it was short lived because before he knew what was happening, Andrei was shoving a butterfly knife to his side.

"As much as I like to have fun with you, I'm sure you'll prove yourself quite useful…" Andrei let his gaze linger on Mac's body, driving the knife deeper, "I must go. La revedere, dragul meu."

In a flash, Andrei was gone and the door closed behind him. Mac realized what was going to happen when he saw Andrei use the same knife he stabbed him with, to jam the key code panel and thus effectively locking him inside.

He looked at the wound in his side, it was deep and already soaked the side of his shirt and jeans. Wearing white shirt didn't work well with the blood, and Mac knew Jack would panic when he saw it.

Mac pressed against the wound with both hands, as hard as he could. It stung and it hurt, making him yelp and twist in pain.

He heard footsteps and could see that Riley and Jack were coming to him.

Riley was the one who saw him first and she couldn't hold the gasp that escaped her lips. That in turn alerted Jack who was staring at the ruined panel. And then Jack saw him.

…

There were so many times Jack got scared for his life early into getting in the Army and then the CIA. But as time went by and he saw close combat, came in touch with death and cheated it, he became sort of immune to all the talk about mortality and death and most of all fear. He made peace with himself that at one point he'd die, sooner rather than later. But that didn't make it any easier when he acquired the kids. He was in a desperate need to stay alive. He wanted to be there for them, and dying would defy that purpose.

Right now the bone deep fear he felt was not for himself, but for Mac, who was bleeding from somewhere in the general direction of his left side. If Jack had to guess, it was from a stab wound.

Currently he stared daggers at the little knife standing out of the ruined panel. Mac was locked in. And Jack didn't know how to get in.

"Jack…" Mac gasped then and Jack's attention got diverted to Mac.

"Hey, Mac."

"I'm sorry…"

"What are you sorry for?"

"For getting stabbed."

Jack felt a stab of fear go through his heart at those words.

"Oh kiddo, it's okay. Not your fault. We'll get you out."

Jack could see that Mac wasn't convinced of it, but Jack had to make sure Mac didn't lose hope. They would find a way out.

Jack already checked the door and while it looked like it was made of glass, Jack had seen enough to know it was reinforced, and he didn't want to risk putting a hole in Mac while trying to shoot at the glass.

The panel was jammed, and even if Jack pulled the knife out, the circuit board was shot to hell. At least, Jack thought so.

Riley was typing on her laptop furiously fast and Jack could see that she was just as worried for Mac as Jack was. With the corner of his eye, Jack noticed that Mac was now sitting on the floor, head leaned against the glass door. The shirt was soaked now and Jack wanted to scream.

"Hey, Mac, talk to me buddy? How is it looking?"

"I'll live. I hope."

Jack cringed at the sound of those words, but Mac wasn't far off how it looked, so for him to say that… Jack figured that it must feel even worse than it looked.

"It's going to be okay. We're working on getting you out. Ri?"

"I can't hack this Jack. I am trying to access it remotely, but the knife must have hit the main motherboard. Sorry."

Riley sounded dejected, but Jack refused to give up.

"How long till we get a team to get those guys into custody?"

"Thirty minutes."

"Get me the closest hospital and tell Matty to clear things with them. We need them to have someone on standby for when we get Mac out."

"Jack…"

"Yes, buddy."

"It hurts…"

Jack hated to see how Mac looked even paler than he was. What he hated even more was that greyish tint his skin was getting. They really had to get him out of there.

"Look at me, bud. Mac?"

Mac took a few seconds too long to look at Jack and Jack did the first thing his heart told him to. He put his palm up against the glass, and waited until Mac got his palm mimicking Jack's.

"I know I'm not there with you, but I'm here, boss. I'm here. I ain't goin' anywhere until you get out of there, okay?"

Mac nodded, getting weaker.

Jack took a look around the room and except for two chairs and some ropes that were lying haphazardly Mac was the only thing or person inside. He was out of commission for the time being. Until something came to Jack.

"Hey, Mac?"

"Mhm?"

"Remember when Patty locked you in the interrogation room for your own safety. When Murdoc was hired to take you out?"

"I do."

"You think we can try and do the same thing here? With the code and the wires?"

Jack could see Mac lifting his head slowly. He had both his hands pressed against the wound now and Jack was left staring at the bloody imprint where Mac's hand was before. But Mac seemed to perk up at the mention of a possible plan. Nevermind how far-fetched it sounded or how it may not even work… Jack was desperate enough to try.

"I… I don't know if there's enough circuit connected to the wires… To the wires."

Mac sounded winded, and that last part was whispered before he said it louder, and that was all the motivation Jack needed to go through with this plan.

"It's worth a try. Did you see the combination on your way in?"

Mac nodded and as Jack worked around in trying to locate the wires and pry the cables off of the secured posts, Mac did that on his end as well. Thankfully they didn't take his SAK or paperclips, so with a little bit of a push, they both started working on the wires.

When five minutes later the door opened with a whoosh and Jack rushed to get to Mac, it was all the relief he could feel before he had an armful of his kid, unconscious.

Jack looked up and pleaded for one more miracle.

…

Mac slowly came to the beeping of monitors and the standard hospital smell of disinfectant, meds and industrial bleach cleaner. Not to mention the scratchy gown and the crinkle of the pillow under his head.

He slowly raised his hand that wasn't connected to an IV to touch his face and found he had a nasal cannula attached. There was something warm around his other hand and with a little bit of effort he turned his head and found Jack holding his hand, and sleeping with his head propped on his forearm.

Mac was too tired to keep his eyes open so he gently squeezed Jack's hand and went back to sleep.

The next few times he woke up were a mix of doctors and nurses asking him questions, his vitals being taken, and after the third time he actually managed to stay awake for longer, they decided to transfer him to a regular room.

Jack was there every step of the way, fussing over him, adjusting the pillows just as Mac wanted them, pulling the blanket higher, and generally just being a fussy parent.

Mac took it because he knew how worried Jack was and Mac secretly loved when Jack fussed over him.

Once the doctor left the room, Jack took his usual place at Mac's bedside and Mac relaxed more in the fluffed up pillows.

"Hey, it's good to have you back, sleepy head."

"It's good to be back." Mac grinned.

"Oh, they've got you on the good drugs, huh? You are grinning."

"Maybe I'm just a little bit high."

"Only maybe a little?"

Mac burst in a fit of giggles and it took him a while to get himself under control.

"You scared me, kid. Don't do this to me again, okay?"

Mac solemnly nodded, fully knowing he'd do it again. But it was all he could offer to Jack now. And it was enough for them both.

#100 drabble challenge #drabble #writing #my writing #my fic #fan fic #prompt number 98 #separated #stabbing #blood #Mac whump #angus macgyver #jack dalton #macgyver #macgyver 2016

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science-hoes · 4 years

Text

I Want A Baby

Bruce Banner x Reader

Prompt from anonymous: I was wondering if you could do a bruce banner x reader with 6 and 17 from the prompt list?

6: Why are your eyes so red?

17: Am I the reason you cry every night?

Words: 1.3k+

Bruce Banner works until he can’t anymore. He stays up until he nearly begins to hallucinate. Tony asked him to finish up some of his work for a new energy system he had in mind. And when Tony needs help, well, he can’t just say no. So cut to tonight. He scribbled down solutions for static pressure from Bernoulli’s equation. That was part of his genius, he didn’t even need to write down the calculations. He could just do it in his head.

“Dr. Banner, it appears that you have made a miscalculation.” JARVIS alerted him.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah?” He asked, gazing at his calculations.

“When solving for static pressure of the section, you used the incorrect density for water.” JARVIS corrected.

Bruce crossed his arms. “The density of water at 250 Celsius is .7986 grams per centimeter cubed…” He responded.

“That is correct, sir. However, you have calculated the static pressure of the section with a temperature of 250 Fahrenheit.” The AI system explained.

Bruce sighed heavily. “And I used .94217 grams per centimeter cubed as the density…” He realized his miscalculation.

“Sir, you have not slept in 72 hours. Perhaps you should rest before working further on this project.” JARVIS advised.

Bruce looked to his watch. 2 in the morning. “Okay, you’re right. Power down the lab.” He said before walking out of the clear doors.

72 hours? That certainly wasn’t the longest Bruce had gone without sleep. But he knew that if he went to sleep now, he would get to rest with you. So instead of retiring to his own room, he walked further down the hallway to your door. He held his badge to the scanner, granting him access to the room. You had given him access soon after you started dating.

The door slid open, and Bruce stepped in. He expected you to be asleep, but you were sitting upright in the bed. He tilted his head. “Sweetheart, what are you doing awake?” He asked as he slipped his shoes off.

You were startled by his presence at first. You had been crying, and you didn’t want him to see. “I just couldn’t sleep.” You whispered.

Bruce nodded at the answer. “Is it okay if I sleep here with you tonight? I haven’t slept in three days apparently.”

“Of course.” You responded.

And with that, Bruce began to unbutton his blue checkered shirt. “How was your day? You didn’t stop by the lab like you usually do.” He said.

You took in a quiet, deep breath. “It was fine.” You responded as steadily as you could. Tears still flowed down your cheeks, but you tried to hide your sniffles.

Bruce slipped his shirt off his shoulders and neatly folded it to place on the back of the chair in your room. “Have you eaten dinner?” He asked as he slipped out of his black slacks.

You nodded slightly, even though the room was too dim for Bruce to see. “Yeah. Steve made tacos for us tonight.” You answered. “It wasn’t as good as his usual cooking.”

Bruce chuckled. “That’s surprising.” He said before laying on the bed next to you. But now that he was closer, he could hear your unsteady breathing. He sat up and looked to you. “Hey, are you okay?” He asked gently.

You looked away. “Yes, I’m okay.” You answered as steadily as you could.

Bruce delicately turned your face back with his hand. The light from the bathroom was enough to reveal your tear stained cheeks. “Then why are your eyes so red?” He asked.

You met his worried eyes. “It’s nothing.” You answered.

“It’s not nothing to me.” He assured you. “It never is.”

It wasn’t the first time Bruce walked in on you crying. It was almost a nightly event for the past month. But you hadn’t seen him in the past few nights.

“I…I...” You managed to get out before breaking down into more tears. Sobs wracked your body, but Bruce swiftly pulled you into his lap. He let you bury your face in his neck and just cry. You trembled in his hold, trying to get a hold on yourself.

“Darling, what’s got you so upset?” Bruce finally asked.

You couldn’t look him in the eyes, so you remained with your face in his neck. “I want something…but you won’t give it to me…” You whimpered.

Bruce felt his heart drop through the floor. “Am I the reason you cry every night?” He managed to ask.

You shook your head. “Bruce, no…it’s not that.” You quickly assured him. “I just…I want a baby.” Bruce shut his eyes and took in a deep breath as if he was about to give you another lecture on why it isn’t safe for him to have kids. “And I know you don’t want one. But…this is my life. I want a baby, I want to be a mom. I want to have a family.”

Bruce felt tears sting his eyes. “(Y/N)…” He sighed.

You pulled out of his embrace and faced him. “No, Bruce. I don’t want to hear it again. I know that you shouldn’t have children. I know the risks that impose on me and the baby. But I want a baby so bad it hurts.”

“Do you think that I don’t want a baby, too?” Bruce finally managed to spit out. “Do you think that I don’t want to risk it anyway just so I can be a father? For years, I’ve wanted to have a family. To have a real family of my own to take care of. But I cannot be selfish.” You realized that tears were furiously streaming down his face. “I cannot risk you getting hurt because you’re all I have, (Y/N). You are my family. I cannot risk losing my family.”

You felt yourself be placed in a gridlock. You didn’t want Bruce to lose you, but you also wanted to give him what he’s always wanted. You placed your hands on the sides of his face. “Bruce, listen to me. You are the smartest doctor I know. You know your condition more than anyone. If we have a baby that has your condition, then that baby will not suffer what you have. That baby will only know love and acceptance. That baby will have a father than understands and won’t have to go through it alone.” You explained.

Bruce didn’t respond for a moment, accepting your answer. “But what about you? What if having a baby puts your life in danger?” He asked.

You smiled slightly through your own tears. “Again, you’re the smartest doctor I know. You’ll know how to save me.” You responded simply.

Bruce shook his head. “But what if I don’t? What if I can’t?” He asked.

You leaned closer and pressed a loving kiss on his forehead. “You will.” Was all you said.

Bruce pulled you back into his arms and just held you. For what seemed like hours, there was complete silence. Only the sound of breathing could be heard.

“Okay.” Bruce’s voice finally broke the silence.

You looked up to him. “Okay, what?” You asked.

“Okay…let’s have a baby.” He responded with a smile.

You sat up quickly. “Bruce, are you serious?” You asked. “Don’t you dare mess with me, this isn’t funny.”

Bruce pressed a loving kiss on your lips. “I’m serious. I want to have a family with you.” He responded.

You held out your pinky. “Pinky swear. No take backs.” Your demanded seriously.

Bruce linked his pinky with yours. “I pinky swear, no take backs.” He responded, just as seriously.

You tackled him backwards onto the bed and squealed excitedly. “Thank you, Bruce!”

Bruce laughed and held you tightly in his arms. “If it’s okay with you, though…I need to sleep before we can make a baby.” He said.

You nodded and got under the covers with him. He held you close to him, arms circled around you almost protectively. You kissed him one more time before closing your own eyes. “Sleep as long as you need.” You whispered.

You determined by the lack of response that Bruce already fell asleep. But you couldn’t help but fantasize about your new plans for the future.

#bruce banner #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x you #bruce banner imagine #avengers #hulk x you #the incredible hulk #hulk #marvel #infinity war #endgame

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danishmiilk · 4 years

Text

if it isn’t too late 💋💄

pairing || mark lee x fem!reader

au || best friends to lovers!au

genre || fluff; angst

word count || 2.2k

warnings || swearing (i think)

summary || your best friend leaves for Canada, taking a piece of your heart along with him. you liked him, but rejected him. is it too late for you to take him back?

“are you really going to Canada?”

“yeah. i’m going to college there, remember?”

you sighed, having repeated this conversation more times than you’d wanted to the previous week. letting your eyes land on mark’s apologetic expression, you lamented the fact that you’d never gotten to do what you’d always wanted to before he left. he hadn’t left, not yet, but you’d never have the courage to do it, never again.

“y/n? don’t cry, okay? i’ll still be back every summer to spend time with you.”

it’s not the same, you thought, but merely sighed and leaned back against the headboard. your best friend sat on the opposite side of the bed, looking at you like he was sorry for his choice, but at the same time didn’t regret it. there was a hint of sympathy and sadness in his posture, and something else, almost longing. you shrugged it off, merely reaching over to hug him before saying, “let’s move on to a happier topic, okay?”

it was hard for you to accept that your best friend for all eighteen years of your life was leaving for Canada, oceans away from you. you’d tried to come to terms with it, but imagining a lifetime without mark was almost awkward and impossible.

you’d miss the late-night talks, the all-nighters before exams, the walks on the beach and the times you’d played together in the kindergarten sand pit (even when you’d both graduated.) you’d lament about not being able to attend college with mark, and only being able to see him once a year.

but most of all, you’d lament that you’d never gotten to tell him your secret (and you were sure, unreciprocated) feelings for him. you’d planned to tell him this year on his birthday, but on that same day when you’d finally been able to gather the courage to confess, he’d dropped the bombshell on you. you decided there was no point in confessing to him, because even if he did reciprocate your feelings, which you sorely doubted would happen, you’d only be able to date him for two months. fate didn’t allow for a relationship between you and mark, you thought.

and so you pushed the feelings away, back into the depths of your heart. where they’d stayed for a very long time. where they would stay for a very long time.

you swore to murder whoever had woken you up at this ungodly hour. it was 4.a.m. in the morning, for god’s sake. who was even awake at this time? and who was awake and free enough to come and wake you up? grumbling in the dim light, you slapped your failing right arm lazily around the bed before finally managing to find your phone (and hurting your pinky).

squinting to let your eyes adjust to the light of your phone, you clicked on the sinning chat.

mark lee 🥰🥳

- hello hellooooooooo

- meet me at the swings in the park please i have something important to tell youuuu

- can’t it wait please?? it’s like four am in the fucking morning

mark lee 🥰🥳

- nooooo i’m leaving in two weeks we don’t!! HAVE!! TIME!!

not having the energy to do anything other than leave him on read, you stifled a yawn and pulled on a sweater with blurry vision. you weren’t sure if you’d even put it on correctly, but you were too tired to care.

after a face wash, you’d gotten slightly more awake and managed to gather the will and motivation to drag your tired limbs to the park which you’d spent most of your childhood at- and the place where you’d met your best friend for the first time.

cliche as it was, you halted your steps and rocked to and fro on the spot when you saw the boy waiting for you. a hoodie and jeans, with the hood pulled over his hair- very typical clothing for mark. he was just sitting on the swing, twisting the chains around each other then letting them go, spinning himself around on the swing. an admittedly childish act, but… he was so beautiful. you cringed inwardly from the cheesiness of your thoughts, but your heart sang a different song.

your heart was happy, its beat erratic. you felt as if you were reliving the time so long ago, the time that you fell in love with him. the scene was almost perfect, perfect for a late-night confession. you didn’t want to get your hopes up, though. he was leaving in a fortnight. if only he wasn’t. if only.

the leaves that were blown into your face by the autumn breeze elicited a squawk out of you, alerting mark to your presence. searching his face for anything other than his usual awkwardness for a hint on why you were called here at this hour, you saw nothing but a hint of nervousness, uncharacteristic of mark.

“so? what’s the matter, mark?”

the ever-present smile on his face suddenly vanished. fiddling with his thumbs, his shoelaces, the hem of his sweater and everything else, before finally speaking softly and haltingly, “well, i’ve kind of… liked you? for a while now? like a few years? and i’ve never been able to tell you this but… i’m leaving soon, and if you reject me then i can just… leave and… maybe it won’t hurt so much.”

“and what if i reciprocated your feelings?” you asked in a whisper.

“you wouldn’t.”

“why are you making decisions for me? i do. i do like you back. i have for a long time now,” you reached your hand up to wipe moistness from your eyes, unsure of why you were even crying in the first place, in relief or regret, “we’ve wasted so much time.”

a hopeful expression began to show on mark’s face, like the sun peeking out from behind the storm clouds, “so… will you be my girlfriend, then?”

your heart broke. you wanted to date him, but at the same time you didn’t think you’d be able to handle a long-distance relationship. “i… can’t. it’s the distance. you’re going to- to- Canada. i’m staying here. i can’t handle this kind of relationship. and fate- fate obviously didn’t mean for us to be together. if it’s sending you off to Canada and it’s leaving me here… its intention was never to let us enjoy any relationship other than friendship.”

when disappointment flashed across his face, you nearly dropped everything and took back what you just said. “it’s- it’s fine- i just thought we could try at it- nevermind,” mark shook his head, “it was a stupid idea, forget i said anything. anyway… i’m sorry for calling you out here so late. i’ll just get going.”

i’m sorry, you thought desperately, i’m sorry. i’m sorry i’m not strong or brave enough to attempt a long distance relationship, i’m sorry i’m not courageous enough to take risks. having known mark for such a long time, you read him as easily as your favourite childhood book, and now, sadness and heartbreak were written in his every step. away from you.

you didn’t feel like going home, not yet. sitting down on the same swing mark had been on just a few moments ago, you resented fate in that moment. you resented it for sending mark to Canada, and for pulling the two of you apart. you could have had a ridiculously cute best friends-to-lovers kdrama plot, you could have enjoyed a nice, normal relationship, but fate didn’t allow for it.

understandably, neither of you tried to contact each other for days. the cloud of sadness that seemingly followed you around wherever you went got denser and denser, until your grandmother who was here to visit knocked on your door one day. “y/n, dear? can i come in?”

“how did it go with mark?” you’d told her about the crush you’d had on mark, and how he’d called you out in the middle of the night. when you just shrugged in response, she pressed on, “did he reject you? i thought he’d called you out to confess. the boy’s always liked you, you know. we could all tell.”

it was the last straw for you. you crumbled and cried into her shoulder, feeling like a little girl once more. the two of you sat there in silence for a few more minutes, your grandmother running her fingers through your hair. when you’d calmed down, you looked at her with tears in your puffy eyes. “he… didn’t reject me,” you whispered in horror, “i rejected him.”

the gasp of shock your grandmother sucked in beside you did nothing to elevate your sentiments. “but… why?” your tone hardened, sadness turning into unadulterated anger, “fate won’t let us be together. it’s sending him to Canada, while i stay here. it’s the first time i’ve fallen in love, and yet i still can’t experience a relationship with my first love. it’s not fair. there isn’t any way we can be together.” without realising it, tears had begun to fall again. you wiped them away furiously, refusing to cry again. “i wish there was,” you said, detached, voice barely audible.

your grandmother looked contemplative for a moment before beginning to speak slowly, “but that’s true! you don’t know when you’re going to be able to find a love like this ever again! when you find something like this, how can you let something little like fate get in your way? take this love and run away with it!” her voice began to escalate at the end, face shining with enthusiasm. you wondered momentarily if that was what she did with your grandfather.

“so you’re saying that… i should try to reconcile with mark, and we can give it a shot at all this relationship stuff?”

“yes. now go! you have a boyfriend to get!”

the world suddenly seemed five shades brighter as you grabbed your things, ready to leave, when your phone screen lit up with a notification.

calendar: mark’s flight today at 5pm! do not miss!

“fuck. his flight is in an hour’s time,” you panicked, trying to tie your hair up with your shoelace which was inconveniently lying on a table. (you hadn’t been focusing much on room upkeep ever since you rejected mark.)

your grandmother didn’t even bother reprimanding you for your less than appropriate language, instead slamming her hand down on the bed with more strength than you thought an eighty year old woman would have. “what are you waiting for? go get your man! grandma’ll be waiting for you right here, so you better come back with good news.”

you raced through the halls of the airport, nearly knocking over five people, a stroller and a pet carrier, adrenaline pumping through your veins like it’d never before. you’d almost failed all your runs for phys ed in school, but you suddenly felt like usain bolt. you didn’t have time. mark’s flight was leaving in fifteen minutes, and you didn’t know when would be the next time he returned.

after an eternity of running, you arrived at the doors of the departure hall, where you saw a figure saying goodbye hurriedly to his family. you felt your lips tug up in a fond smile - it was just like mark to be borderline late. “mark lee! MARK LEE! LEE MINHYUNG!”

he turned around to look at you quizzically. “y/n? i- i thought you wouldn’t come. aren’t you still- aren’t you still mad? because of that night?”

you knew your hair looked like a mess, your clothes crumpled and makeup nonexistent, but mark was still looking at you like you’d hung the stars. you grinned. “what kind of a best friend would i be if i didn’t come to send you off? however…” apprehension filled mark’s expression at your last word, only causing your grin to grow as you continued, “i’d prefer to be your girlfriend.”

you didn’t think your grin would be able to grow even more, but it did as you saw mark’s face morph into shock and elation. “yes, i’m serious. i was dumb and stupid and i’m really sorry but i’d still like to give this a try-”

cliche as it sounds, he kissed you to shut you up. the media portrayed first kisses wrongly, you thought. it didn’t feel explosive or anything really shocking, but it was special. it felt right, somehow, and your soul had been yearning for this for who knows how long. so you kissed him back.

you’d lost track of how much time had passed, but mark’s brother taeyong suddenly coughed very loudly and awkwardly. “right, we’re all happy you’ve finally gotten together and all because watching you dance around each other like idiots was the worst thing i’ve ever had to do and i once had to wake up sleepy hungover yuta, but mark’s flight leaves in five minutes and i think he needs to go.”

you pulled apart hurriedly, smashing your nose against mark’s chin in the process. “bye, i love you, take care in Canada, don’t die, and talk to me!”

“call me!”

neither of you knew what the future held. but if you’re together, it’ll be alright. it’ll always be. and someday you’ll meet again.

#nct-writers #dreamwritersnet #neothestars #starryktown #kpopscape #nctcreations #mark #mark lee #nct mark #mark imagines

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msmarvelwrites · 4 years

Text

The Winter Ghost - Part 16

Info: A Devastating car crash causes you to lose your memory and start over. The only thing left in the wreckage was the horrific nightmares which plagued your mind. If you knew what today would entail you would have just stayed in bed. But you didn’t and because of that, everything you knew was about to change.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: swearing, violence, mentions of death, fluff.

W/c: 2.3 k

A/n: Welcome back, and Happy Labour Day! We’re winding down here folks, but I’ve got some spicy chapters coming up... Thats all I’m going to say about that. But honestly, the biggest of thank you’s to @cutie1365 for editing those parts because they were rough. I embarassed myself quite afew times. Anyways, enjoy babes!

The sun burned into the cabin windows causing the dust that hovered stagnant in the dull room to sparkle. Bucky had tossed and turned for the past few hours, trying to rest his eyes, but it was to no avail. Instead of torturing himself further by counting ceiling planks, he groaned out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen. It appeared he wasn't the only one having trouble sleeping.

Steve and Wanda hovered over Vision as he sat at the kitchen table, typing into the laptop.

“Sergeant Barnes, I’ve located Agent L/n” The android spoke, freezing Bucky in his tracks.

“You found Y/n?” He stumbled over his feet, joining the three of them as he watched the small red dot on the screen blink slowly. There you were.

“Okay, that's not too far from here. Maybe a half hour right. Keep your comms on, I’ll get packed and head out now-”

“Alone?” Wanda spoke surprised.

“I can handle a couple of Hydra picks. And I’m not risking what happened to Nat to happen again.”

“That's not really up to you, jerk.” Steve sighed. “I’m with ya… Till the end of the line, remember?”

Bucky’s eyes softened at that, watching as a small smile pulled at the corner of Steve's mouth. His relationship with his best friend had been a little rocky these past few weeks to say the least. But for the first time in a long time, he trusted him. Completely and fully. Bucky wasn't alone, not any more.

“Alright, punk. Let's go get her back.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

You squeezed the trigger, wincing as the machine in your hand clicked.

Silence.

You pulled it again, but same as before nothing happened.

“Oh, baby. You're even more ruthless than I remember.” Tommy taunted, holding up the clip in his hands before springing from the floor, charging at you. You quickly dodged him, sending him into the wall behind you.

“You’d really shoot me? After everything we’ve been through. Bucky Barnes must have some pretty good moves. Remind me to ask him when Hydra gets their little pet back.”

You growled, “Take his name out of your mouth.”

“And what about you, baby. Has it been in yours?” He cooed, lunging at you and hammering a stiff punch to your jaw. You stumbled back a few pases, but ultimately regained your balance.

“I trusted you. I loved you!” You screamed, rocketing your leg forward and sweeping it under Tommy’s legs, knocking him down. He gasped on impact, clutching his chest for air.

“Tell me,” He wheezed. “When he touches you, do you think of me?” The small smirk on his thin lips disappeared as you brought your boot down on his throat. He choked and gasped for air, but none came. For a moment you wondered if this was really who you were. A killer, nothing but a numb shell of a woman he had left behind.

You watched as his face turned a deep shade of purple. He furiously clawed at your leg begging for air. It would be so easy. With your strength and a little more added pressure you could completely crush his windpipe. Hell, you're sure you could rip his head clean off, but you didn't want blood on your new combat boots. It’s funny, all this time you were thinking Bucky was the monster. Yet here you stood, Tommy’s life in your hands and there was nothing you'd enjoy more than watching his eyes roll back into his skull. Just like before, only this time there would be no second chances.

The commotion outside the small room had your head snapping up and away from your prey. Gunfire echoed through the hallways, causing you to freeze. As the footsteps neared your room, you made your decision. Tommy would get his one way or another, but not if you died first.

Reluctantly you lifted your boot off his now bruised and raw throat. He drew a jagged breath as the air rushed back into his swollen lungs. You grabbed the mag from across the room and reloaded the gun with a deep click.

“Not a word.” You threatened Tommy, pressing the pistol into his head behind him. If you were going out, it was going to be a bloodbath, starting with his.

The metal door was torn from its hinges in an explosion of dust and concrete.

“I’d pull the trigger if I were you, doll.” His familiar husky voice boomed.

“Bucky?” You all but whispered.

“We’re not killing anyone.” Steve spoke from beside him as he and Wanda walked through the dust filled room.

“You came.” You swallowed down your exhaustion you only now realised was there.

“Of course we came. Couldn't leave my best girl. All though, now I see you can take care of yourself just fine.” Bucky chuckled. You couldn't help the smile that spread across your lips as relief filled your lungs.

“They're gunna’ to kill you.” Tommy coughed out. Bucky’s eyes shot to his, and as if it was the first time he had really realised he was in the room.

“Oh, you must be Tommy. You know, heard great things, but now that we're meeting - officially- I have to say, I’m disappointed.” He took two wide pases to the quivering man, looking down on him. “You're shorter than I thought you'd be.” Bucky half joked.

“Go on Winter Soldier. Do what you do best. Show her who you are.” He breathed, more confidence in his small voice now. He truly had a death wish.

“With pleasure.” Bucky seethed. You prepared yourself for the gruesome image that was about to unfold but the next thing you felt was Bucky’s hands on either side of your arms. When you opened your eyes, his were soft.

This time, you knew who initiated it. You wrapped your hands around the back of his neck and pulled him down to you, crashing your lips onto his. They were soft and rough all at once as he drank you in. His flesh hand quickly lost itself in your hair as he pulled you in deeper. He kissed you softly, but you urged for more, desperate and craving to make up for lost time. He chuckled darkly at your attempt, holding you tight to his chest. He wanted nothing more than to hold you like that and never let go, but there were bigger things at play. Reluctantly, he pulled away as you gasped for breath.

“Wanna get out of here?” Bucky breathed, taking your hands in his. You nodded, completely lost in thought.

“Please.” He signed, following Steve and Wanda out of the room.

“You can't just leave me here!” Tommy shouted.

“Don’t worry, darling. Hydra’s going to take care of you. I mean, you let me get away, but I’m sure they’ll understand. After all, historically Natzi’s have been known for their forgiveness...” You grinned, turning on your heel and coming face to face with him.

“Y/n, please. Baby, you gotta’ help me. I'm sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Tommy begged. His meak words caused you to grit your teeth.

“I want you to remember this when they’re torturing you… I could have killed you. Easily- without regret. But you deserve so, so much worse.” You signed, slapping his face mockingly. You turned on your heel, as his words hit your back like a threat.

“You're a slut, you know that. No one will ever love you like I did. You'll always be a sad, broken, pathetic bitch. Lucky your family fucked off when they did before they could see you grow up to be such whore.”

You stopped dead in your tracks. Bucky watched you carefully as you gnawed on your bottom lip, pleading with your eyes. He met your silent question with a shrug of his shoulders. Swiftly you turned and before Tommy could understand what was happening you took a fistful of his polo shirt and instantaneously collided your fist with his cheek, knocking him out instantly.

“God damn, you're beautiful.” Bucky breathed, causing you to giggle.

“Lets get the fuck out of here.” You spat, watching Tommys limp body crumpled on the floor. It took everything in you not to finish the job right there. Luckily Bucky was there to pull you away.

You were quickly rushed through the hallways, avoiding the Hydra agents who writhed in half conscious pain on the floor. A nice touch by Wanda, who most likely sent them to their personal hell on earth. A few of them had bullet holes in their appendages but nothing fatel.

“Why aren't we killing them again?” You asked under your breath to Bucky.

“Steve thinks if a bunch of Hydra agents wind up dead ittl’ alert his friends back in New York. We’re trying to keep a low profile.” He explained, clenching his jaw. “Doesn't mean I’m not tempted to rain down fire on these sons of bitches. But he’s right.”

“But they know how to replicate my serum now. What do we-”

“We’ll keep close tabs on them. Right now we need to get you out of here. We’ll come back when we regroup.” He resaured you, pulling you close. “You're my mission. You've always been my mission. Can you just let me save you?” He chuckled.

You shook your head, a smile spreading on your lips. “I don't need a knight.”

Bucky flashed that lopsided grin you missed so much, “How bout’ a Sergeant?” He asked deeply, sending a chill to blossom through your body.

“I’ll get back to you.” You spoke sheepishly.

“Sam says the jets fired up. He and Vision are on the tarmac just out front.” Steve spoke, leaning you out the doors and into the burning sunlight. The four of you ran across the pathment as Steve helped Wanda into the aircraft. Wanda wrapped her hand around yours and pulled you up, but before you could climb in, the sound of gunfire exploded through the air.

In the time it took you to turn around, it was too late. Bucky had taken the blow of two bullets fired from the disheveled Hydra agent across the tarmac. Your heart stopped as another round of bullets sprayed through the air. Wanda screamed your name as you pulled away from her and threw yourself in front of Bucky, absorbing the impact. In a flash of red, you disintegrated the bullets, turning them to dust before you.

“Get him out of here.” You ordered, turning for a moment to assess his injuries. Steve and Sam reluctantly pulled Bucky onto the jet leaving you to face your demon. The agent smiled wickedly.

“Leaving so soon, Y/n. Family reunion not all you thought it was going to be?” He snearned.

“Family. Is that even a word you understand?” You spat, closing in on him. He was only a few yards away. The man shrugged and tucked his gun away.

“Maybe not. How about some words you'll understand?” He spoke coolly.

“Выхлоп.” Exhaust. The word echoed around your mind, a memory pulling at your heart.

“Отражение...тоска...забытый...горящий...призрак...пять...замороженный...мост… чувство вины.”

Reflection...Longing… Forgotten… Burning… Ghost… Five… Frozen… Bridge… Blame.

Images flashed through your mind. The inferno of your childhood home. Tommy’s lifeless body tipping over the bridge… Your mom and dad, the way they smiled. You're sisters giggle. Your mission… Finally, numbness washed over you as you hung your head in exhaustion.

You took two steps closer to the man, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Are you ready to comply?” He questioned curley.

“Yeah, that doesn’t work anymore.” You breathed, snapping your head up to meet the man's horrified face. Crimson flames erupted out of your hands as you lifted him off the ground. With the flick of your fingers, the bones in his legs snapped, an ungodly sound of crunching willing the air. He screamed in pain as you threw him like a ragdoll into the side of the building.

You shook your head, physically trying to rid yourself of the daze Hydras trigger words had sent you into. Bucky calling your name from behind knocking you back to reality. You ran towards the jet, climbing in and trying to steady your breathing.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, astonished.

“I think so.” You replied, just as shocked as he was.

“Those were trigger words. Just like Bucky had. How did you fight it?” He spoke.

You looked to Bucky who only blinked at you. You had your answer before you even spoke.

“Bucky. I just remembered Bucky.” You breathed, squatting down beside him and holding your hand over his wounds to relieve his pain.

“I knew it.” He groaned, feeling the ache slowly dissipate into thin air.

“What?” You chuckled, taking a seat beside him and pressing your lips to his temple. He signed into your touch and leaned his head onto your shoulder.

“Knew you couldn't leave me for dead. You’ve got my six.” He explained, repeating his words from the other day. You smiled into your lap and rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I thought it might be a dick move. But we’re even now.” You sighed, nudging him a little. His eyes fluttered closed as he began to doze off. His wounds surely repairing themselves while he slept. You wondered if he could hear how fast your heart was beating as you watched him nuzzle into you.

Of course, he did. He smiled softly, knowing he made you feel the same as you did him. Though he wondered if he was pushing his luck to imagine he could take that thought one step further.

.......................................................................................................................

A/N: So, #fuck tommy. Telling him off in this was honestly therapeutic lol. I really hoped you guys enjoyed this one. As always, please like and reblog of you’ve read it. And feel free so leave some feedback, its alwasy welcome!

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