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basicinstinctmacher · 2 years ago

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someone requested more short!reader, so i wrote this with that in mind. i will be writing something that goes into a bit more detail about the reader being a short queen. anyway, hope you like it!

Ethan Landry x Short!Reader

Always Lurking and Stalking

When you and Ethan started dating he was always keeping a close eye on you. Not to say he didn’t before, because he certainly did. He just hated the fact that your friends didn’t really pay much mind to you when they went out. Always leaving you to fend for yourself. And while you didn’t like for people to think you were completely helpless, it still felt nice to have someone care for you so much.

And Ethan just felt like he needed to protect you from everything and everyone.

You were all currently at another frat party, hosted by none other than date rape Frankie. You were sitting with Mindy on the couch, very much tipsy, Anika and Tara dancing away under the pretty flashing lights, and Chad was trying to talk Ethan into doing shots with him.

Ethan, of course, kept declining. It was an unspoken rule he had made up when you two started dating. If you were out with them, he wasn’t drinking. He wanted to make sure you had someone looking out for you at all times, and while he loved his friends, he did not trust them.

“I want another drink!” Your sudden outburst barely even registered in Mindys ears, she was watching Anika with a big grin on her face, paying you no mind at all.

You get up, leaving Mindy to stare at her girlfriend, and make your way to the kitchen.

Ethan watching you closely, immediately taking notice of the drunken sway of your figure. “Y/N! Where are you going, baby?” You turn when you hear Ethan call out for you, and point to the kitchen. You smile sweetly, before Ethan gives you thumbs up and turns back to Chad.

��Dude, for the last time, I don’t want to do shots with you.” He pushes Chads hand away, glancing past his shoulder trying to keep his focus on you.

“You’re no fun anymore. I’m sure Y/N’s fine, man.” That earns an annoyed eye roll from Ethan. “Yeah, well you wouldn’t know because you never look out for her. You and everyone else are always too busy getting shitfaced.”

“What? No way! I’m always lurking and stalking when you least expect it.” Chad slaps a fist to his own chest, trying to solidify his words. Ethan only rolls his eyes again. Because he knew, and Chad knew, that Chad was full of shit.

Ethan couldn’t even count the amount of times he’s found you by yourself, completely wasted and barely functional, at these parties. And it made him angrier and angrier every time.

There were even a few times where the group just left the party without you. Forgetting you were even with them because of how drunk they all were. Of course, Ethan was never with them at those times. So, when you would call him and tell him what happened, he would drop whatever the was doing, even if he was sound asleep, and go get you.

He knew you weren’t totally incapable, but you weren’t exactly the tallest, or strongest girl either.

He just loved you too much to see something happen to you, because no one was paying any attention.

And he’s glad too, because when he hears you shout his name from the kitchen, he wastes no time, slightly pushing Chad out of the way, trying to get to you. He could hear the panic in your voice as soon as you scream for him, and it makes him want to throw up.

As soon as he makes it into the kitchen, his eyes find you instantly. You were pushed against a counter, some guy gripping your wrist tightly, trying to pull you out of the room. “Ethan! Help me!” Your eyes lock with his, and he can see how terrified you are, as you blink back tears.

“Hey! Get your fucking hands off of her!” The guy turns around eyeing Ethan up and down. At first glance, he doesn’t seem that intimidating, but that’s because no one, except you, knew what was hiding underneath the long sleeve shirt he was wearing. “We’re busy dude, fuck off.”

Ethan’s never been one for violence, but right now he wanted nothing more than to take one of the kitchen knives, that seems to be staring into his soul, and slit this guys throat. Instead, he rips the guys hand from you, and gently pushes you to stand behind him. You clutch onto his shirt, still scared out of your mind, and Ethan reaches his hand back to take yours.

“Touch her again, and I will fucking kill you.” The calmness in Ethan’s voice was more than threatening enough, but this guy just wouldn’t back off. “Whatever, she was asking for it dude.”

You didn’t even register what the guy said in the moment, but you felt Ethan tense up before putting all of his weight into the punch he threw at the guy. The crunching sound itself was horrifying, but glancing around Ethan, you were met with the sight of blood oozing from his nose.

You shouldn’t have giggled, but you couldn’t help it. “You should have listened when I told you my boyfriend would kick your ass.”

For a second Ethan forgot you were even still there, too focused on the idiot in front of him, who was now walking away, crying. He turns around to face you now, hands cupping your face with concern. “Are you okay, baby? Did he hurt you?” You only smile up at him, “I’m so okay, now! That was so hot, E!”

Ethan blows out a huff, relieved you’re okay, but still very much angry about the whole situation. He pushes your head to his chest, leaving his hand to cradle it, trying to calm himself down. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He whispers more to himself than you, of course you still hear it and squeeze him even tighter. “You wouldn’t let anything happen to me, I know it.”

Ethan’s lips find the crown of your head and places a sweet kiss there. You lift your face up, chin resting on his chest, and you can still see how worried he is.

“I’m okay, E.” You try to reassure him, only getting a small nod in return. His eyes aren’t meeting yours and you already know what’s bothering him.

“Ethan, look at me.” You feel much more sober now, as you take his chin in your hand and pull his face down to meet your eyes. “It’s not your fault. You were watching me the whole time, so stop blaming yourself for something you couldn’t control.” “If i would have just came with you-“

“But you didn’t because you respect me enough to let me have my space.” He knew you were right, he just couldn’t let that feeling go. The one where he was scared out of his mind when he heard you scream for him.

“I just never want to hear you scared like that again.” You smile softly at that, standing on your tiptoes to place a kiss to his lips. “Well, I know I have you to protect me if something like that ever happens again. Nothing to be scared of now.”

Ethan feels a lot calmer, something only you’re able to do.

“There you are, E! Man you have got to try this drink some guy just handed to me. It literally tastes like rainbows.”. You watch Ethan roll his eyes, no telling how many times he’s already done that tonight, because Chad was totally sloshed.

“How about we all go home? I think you’ve had enough rainbows for tonight.” As Ethan moves to push Chad out of the kitchen, Chad stops and looks at you. “Holy shit, how long have you been standing there Y/N/N? You should totally try this drink.”

“Oh my god, Chad! Shut up and move.” Ethan pushes him forward again, and reaches out for your hand, which you gladly take. “We need new friends, baby.” You giggle at his comment and shake your head.

“They may not know how to ‘read the room’ but they’re good friends, ya know when they’re not completely wasted.” Ethan only pulls you closer to his body.

“You give them too much credit, sweetheart. Always looking for the best in people.”

There’s a comfortable silence after that, seeing most of the group gathered at the door, you make your way over to them. “Where’s Chad? He was literally in front of us the whole time.” Tara only points behind you two, making you quickly snap your head around.

“Jesus christ.” “What the fuck?” You laugh out.

“Where did he get a turtle from?”

“Chad! Put the turtle down, and get your ass over here.”

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #scream vi #jack champion #jack champion x reader #short!reader

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holylulusworld · 11 months ago

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Summary: Broken hearts are hard to put back together. 8 years ago, Dean lost something he didn’t even know he had in the first place. Will he get a second chance?

Pairing: former AU!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, past break-up, arguments, daddy Dean, angry reader, Mary being a bitch

A/N: This was an alternative idea for the first chapter of my Bucky story: Monster-in-law masterlist. I decided to use it for a story with Dean.

“Did you pack everything, Michael?” You lovingly run your hand over your son’s head. Moving back to the States won’t be easy. It will be a hard piece of work to leave your old life yet again.

Nothing is ever easy with Dean Winchester in your life. He’s like a tornado coming into your life to turn everything upside down.

“Can we stay with Dad and Uncle Sammy? Dean told me so much about his home and Baby! Mommy, he’s got an Impala called Baby and…” He trails off, suddenly falling silent. “Sorry, mommy. You already know that.”

“It’s alright, baby boy.” You softly kiss the top of his head. “Have a look around your room. We don’t want to miss something. We will stay for at least a week or two, okay.”

“Hmmm…okay.” He nods before running off to his room to check if he forgot something.

“Uh-do you really want to meet up with Bobby for a job?” Sam pokes his head inside the living room. “Maybe you can fix things with Ketch, or at least find a new, and better position here, the UK.”

“One could believe that you don’t want Y/N to come with us,” Dean grunts while his brother tries to make sure you’re not making a hasty decision. “She wants to meet up with Bobby. You like Bobby. He’s a good man and an even better employer. If she wants to work for him, it’s none of your business.”

“Guys, can you not fight? I had a lot to prepare before our flight. You are still butting heads like kids,” you snort when Dean gives his brother the stinky eyes. He purses his lips and wildly gestures at your tits. “Dean, my eyes a little higher.”

“I didn’t point at your boobs,” he says but glances at your cleavage. Dean hums, and subconsciously licks his lips. “Even though, they are nice to look at.”

“Dude,” Sam huffs. “Seriously?”

“What?” Dean shrugs. “It’s the truth. Now, back to packing things. Do you need more, sweetheart? I can get some boxes and pack everything up.” He grins, giving you puppy dog eyes.

Sam tries to stop his brother from saying something making you change your mind. “Dean…” He sighs. “Slow down.”

“No, Sammy. I gotta bring her away from that douche. He’s got grabby hands. I won’t let him touch her.” Dean harrumphs. He hates Arthur Ketch with passion.

“That is enough, Dean!” You grab his ear, tugging hard. Dean winces and tries to grab your wrist, but you only tug harder. “I decided to go back to the State to work for Bobby. Not yours, or anyone else’s. There’s a lot to consider and organize before I can even think of moving back to the States.”

“Can you stop fidgeting?” You watch Dean nervously shift in his seat. “Dean, the seat is more than comfortable. This is the first class.”

“How’d you pay for it?” Sam watches you get a credit card out of your purse. You smirk and toss it at him. “Is that a company card?”

“Arthur decided that he doesn’t want to let me go. He insists that I retract my two weeks’ notice. Arthur is not very mature when it comes to rejection, it seems. He told me he’ll do anything to keep me at his company.”

“So, you use the company card to pay for your flight?” Dean snickers. “I love how you think. Even better, you can be so devious.”

“I don’t think that’s legal, Y/N,” Sam, ever the lawyer throws in. “What if he takes legal action?”

“He can eat shit,” you snap at Sam. “I won’t play by his rules any longer. I’m officially on my way to discuss another deal with Bobby Singer. If I invite a few friends to join me on my flight, it’s justified.”

Dean grins proudly. He’d done the same if he was in your shoes. “No swear words in front of the kid,” he says, but chuckles. “We cannot use fecal language when Michael is around.”

You huff and lean back in your seat, closing your eyes to get some sleep. Michael is already asleep, and Sam is close to drifting off himself. Only Dean is antsy and cannot calm down. Not only because of his problem with airplanes but the fact that you are so close too.

“DADDY! We’ve missed you.” You smile when Sam’s kids run toward their father. He immediately wraps his arms around the screaming bunch to hug them. His wife, Jess, shakes your hand while you ask her if Michael can stay here for today. You don’t want to leave him in the hotel room you booked or drag him around.

Holding his kids in his arms Sam sighs. “I’ve missed you too,” he says and hugs them a little tighter. The last days made him see how lucky he truly is. He had the chance to watch his kids growing up and has the love of his life by his side.

“So, Sammy,” Dean clears his throat. “Can Michael stay here and meet his cousins? Y/N wants to talk to Bobby and mother.” He spats the last word.

Jess holds out her hand for your son. “Of course, he can stay here as long as he wants to,” she says when he takes her hand. “How about we go inside, and you can introduce yourself to your cousins, Michael?”

Sam and Jess walk inside their home with your son and their children. You watch them go with a sad expression. You and Dean could’ve had what they have. He’s a little chaotic, and sometimes a mess, but Dean has a good heart.

If only Mary didn’t manipulate your relationship back then…

“How did it go?” Dean asks when you walk out of the building of Bobby’s company. “Did you get the job? Bobby didn’t leave you hanging, right?”

“I got the job, and he will help me find a place to stay,” you tell Dean if only to stop him from asking more questions.

“I know you don’t like me much, but I can help you too. Sammy is good at house hunting, and I’m good at renovating things. You know that. We can help.”

“Dean—” sighing deeply you look at Dean. He offered to drive you around, bringing Baby on purpose. Dean wanted to bring old memories back up. “Can we just drive?”

He raises his hands in surrender and nods. “Where to now?”

“Your mother’s place,” you say, venom in your voice. If you don’t do it now, you’ll never find the courage to face the villain of your story. “I have a lot to discuss with her. And Dean…”

“Yeah?” He furrows his brows. “What can I do for you?”

“I need a ring, with a big diamond. And for you to not say a word. Leave this to me…”

Dean comes back twenty minutes later. He opens his hand to reveal the engagement ring you left behind years ago. You swallow thickly but take the ring to put it on your finger.

“What are you up to?” He asks while following you toward his mother’s house. Dean wonders if he should stop you from confronting his mother. Mary is not going to admit her mistakes or ask for forgiveness.

You smile sweetly, but there is a dangerous glimmer in your eyes. “Revenge,” you say, and grab his hand. You interlace your fingers with his and put your sweetest fake smile on.

“Knock, baby,” you coo, before Dean can chicken out. He starts to sweat but raises his fist to knock. “I will so enjoy this.”

The door opens moments later. Mary looks at her son, smiling because she believes he came back to apologize. But then, her eyes land on you. Your fingers interlaced with Dean’s.

“What are you doing here?” She spats your way. “I didn’t invite you.”

“I wanted to thank you for bringing Dean back into my life,” you let go of Dean’s hand to show off the diamond ring on your finger. “Who would’ve thought that burning the message I left to tell Dean about his unborn son would bring us back together, huh?”

You smirk, seeing the struggle on her face. “I have a grandson?” She hiccups. “No, this is impossible.”

“No,” your eyes grow cold, and you deepen your smirk. “You don’t have a grandson, and you don’t have a son any longer.” Her face falls when you step closer to look her up and down. “Pathetic. Only because your marriage was loveless you wanted to ruin what Dean and I had. What a pity we found each other again.”

“No—you won’t take him back. Not after he left you years ago.” Mary shakes her head, but you simply chuckle.

“We will rise from the ashes, stronger than before. Dean will be a good father for our son and a good husband,” you chuckle darkly. “And you can choke on the hatred and bitterness you consist of. You will never see your grandson because he doesn’t need a coldhearted bitch like you in his life.”

Mary can only watch you grab Dean’s hand to lead him back toward Baby. Your heart hammers in your chest, and you're about to cry because all the hurting hits you again. You won’t, though.

This time you walk away from Mary Winchester, your head held high…

Part 14

Tags in reblog.

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #Designed by pain (13)#business au #au!dean winchester

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redisveryyummy · 1 year ago

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Late night modern hotd music headcanons :D

Rheanyra loves Beyonce so fucking much dude

She feels like she would have one playlist and it's just called boss bitch or something

Reputation is the only Taylor Swift album she constantly listens to and evermore but we won't talk about that

Former theater kid, if you disagree argue with the wall

I am a strong believer that she is a fan of musicals/romcoms and her and her boys have a movie night where they watch their favorites and sing every song word for word

(Daemon does not participate)

ESPECIALLY MAMMA MIA

Rheanyra singing "Slipping Through My Fingers" to Jace and/or Luke has me sobbing my eyes out dude

Jace, Luke, and Joffery singing "Honey Honey" omg

JACE AND (INSERT S/O OF YOUR CHOICE PROBABLY CREGAN) SINGING "LAY YOUR LOVE ON ME" TO EACH OTHER AGHSBSUDBHD

Daemon listens to dad rock and dubstep exclusively, nothing else

Bro is literally the cbat guy

Daemon is really the kind of guy that would be like "there's this band but you probably wouldn't know it because it's so underground" and it's literally Weezer

Alicent loves her yearning music

Phoebe Bridgers, Frankie Cosmos, Laufey, Mitski, Conan Gray

Two words. BOY. GENIUS.

Her and Rheanyra have TOTALLY gone to many boy genius concerts together

folklore folklore folklore

Aegon 😐😑😐

Cbat guy 2.0

Listens to WAY to much house music

No real music taste

Whatever is on the radio, but like the radio in 2016 you know?? Or like late 2000's

1989 (Taylor's Version) he's not a monster lol

Usher (that's the only person I can think of rn lol)

Aemond only listens to classical music or weird experimental jazz because he thinks it makes him different

Activity hates on Taylor Swift for all the wrong reasons

Secretly likes her a little and is way too excited for The Tortured Poets Department

Helaena is so whimsical I love her sm <3

Very much into indie stuff with down to earth vibes

Hozier, The Crane Wives, Noah Kahn, Everybody's Worried About Owen, Bears in Trees, Maya Hawk

"Why Am I Like This" by Orla Gartland...iykyk

Jacaerys Velaryon is an Arianna Grande FAN I don't make the rules

Him, Beala, and Rheana definitely have little dance parties whenever they come over

Loves Ari and Brittany

Also enjoys country music

He gets it from his daddy 🥰

Taylor Swifts Self Title is his everything

LUCERYS VELARYON IS A THEATER KID I REPEAT LUCERYS VELARYON IS A THEATER KID

It's all his mom's fault

His playlists are all just musical soundtracks

Little Shop of Horrors, Heathers, The Falsettos, RIDE THE CYCLONE, BE MORE CHILL, Dear Evan Hansen, Hamilton

Same with the Hazbin Hotel soundtrack y'all don't even know

Luke loves "Hell is Forever"

Also bro has a HORRIBLE singing voice

Anyway I will probably have more tomorrow but that is what I got for tonight :))

#house of the dragon #hotd #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #alicent hightower #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #helaena targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #hotd modern au #modern!hotd #headcanon #hotd headcanon #music

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tragedy-peanut-gallery · 1 year ago

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any headcanons about daeron ii's and myriah's sons?

WAUGGHHH YEESSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! They’re probably gonna be a bit shorter than the girlies because…….. I hate men I guess /j

Baelor:

- Surprisingly the most normal of Daeron and Myriah’s kids even though the pressure placed on him since birth must’ve been I N S A N E. Probably would’ve snapped at some point if the brown haired gene didn’t come in clutch and neutralize the crazy in him

- And even tho canon tries to imply him having brown hair and a broken nose doesn’t make him as pretty as the other targs……… ignore them king, I KNOW there were probably hundreds of people writing some crazy rpf about this man!!1!1!!

- I also like to think he, Daemon and Daenerys were pretty close as kids. Like, yahhh ik their relationship probably rotted because Baelor was meant to feel inferior to Daemon and vice versa for differing reasons but…. Maybe I wanna make myself cry a bit. Maybe I wanna imagine them playing knights and dragons and stuff 🥲

- Definitely cared for Maekar a lot as his baby brother but also had a lot of trouble not seeing him as anything as his baby brother whichhhh….. probably made him come off as condescending a little okay he’s trying his best

Aerys:

- Asexual AND autistic, sorry I don’t make the rules and I’m not projecting onto him I swear don’t listen to what anyone else may tell you I-

- And the thing is, I’m sure he would’ve absolutely pulled a Vaegon if he could’ve, but honourably decided to stay behind for the sake of securing political allies for the throne (the citadel rejected his application because he cited his only strength as “reading”)

- Poor dude probably had some absolutely shitty sight due to eye strain, reading by candlelight in the dark is all fine and dandy until that becomes the only thing you do

- Ngl probably the biggest social outcast out of his brothers, I think the primary reason he trusted Brynden to handle everything when he became king was because he didn’t have that many friends/allies outside of Aelinor (not a big politics person), Shiera (witch girlie and also Brynden’s kinda gf) and Brynden himself so he was willing to go with whatever they wanted within reason

- Mans has no canonical death despite being a king so I’m personally gonna diagnose him with….. tetanus via iron throne in one of the few times he actually bothered to do king things

Rhaegel:

- I kinda like to think he was an artistic guy, really loved painting and drawing and probably would’ve tried out other mediums like pottery, embroidery and weaving if people didn’t stop him from doing so <3

- Probably dressed a lot more simply as an adult because he hated most fabric textures. Velvet and wool were his least favourites but tbh the only thing he could wear without getting fidgety in ten minutes would be cotton

- Also really hated when people touch his hair ngl! Dude has that really pretty targ men hair gene where it’s really long and flowy but that’s because he doesn’t like cutting it

- Okay tbh I like him but I don’t have that many thoughts on the guy 💀 I like to headcanon he drew a lot of dragons as kids and really liked telling his family what their dragons would look like and what he should name them and all that. His dragon would be light purple with red wings and gold horns and he’d call her Myrri after his mom :)))

Maekar:

- Absolutely the tallest and most athletic out of his brothers but absolutelyyyy suffering from an inferiority complex. No it doesn’t get any better when Baelor dies, if anything it gets much worse :(

- Had an unfortunate habit of getting people to dislike him, not completely his fault tho a lot of folks were just predisposed to thinking him to be kinda intimidating!!!

- Didn’t have a favourite with his kids, but Rhae was absolutely his baby because she was a lot like him when he was little in both looks and attitude lol

- Feeling a little angsty so I’m gonna say he had some memorabilia of Dyanna that he’d keep with him at all times. Like maybe a bit of her hair in a locket, or a portrait he’d keep in his room 🥲

#disclaimer again that these are purely headcanons!! I don’t expect anyone to care but this is my disclaimer now!!!!#asoiaf #baelor breakspear #aerys i targaryen #rhaegel targaryen #maekar targaryen

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davekat-sucks · 6 months ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/davekat-sucks/771886685189472256/iirc-meenah-in-addition-to-aranea-as-she-is-a ANON. MY BROTHER IN SUFFERER. DID YOU NOT READ THE FUCKING COMIC-? Bro, my dude, my guy, broski, the entire Beforus, for example, *is* the way it is BECAUSE OF HER IGNORANT NICENESS. Its literally the same fish Hitler, but extreme ableism edition. How can you look at the society where the disabled Latula literally has to hide her disability because otherwise she would've been coddled and cooed over by some stronger and more powerful individuals, which would absolutely destroy her mentally, and not see the extreme problem in that? Do you think that just because there's no genocide and murder it isnt a fucking horror to live in? Do you not realise how one act of her desire fucked everything over for so many others? She wasnt even on the screen and yet her rule as a, oh idk, a highest cast ever??? was still like a slap?? In the comic itself Feferi was never "too nice" 24/7. She was condesending, pushy, talked over others, hurled the same slurs that some other trolls used and enjoyed her privilege immensly, but in her "im going to be so good for everyone! eventually" way. Its literally the same way how people mischaracterize Jade as a "nice uwu girl" stop ittttttt stop stop stoooop. Yes, she's shallower than others. Yes, she's pretty boring due to minimal panel time. But her chat name is also cuttlefishCuller for a reason for fucks sake anon read with your eyes not your fucking ass. She was very giddy and naive, but she's not stupid. Girl literally talked the fucking HORRORS OF THE ELDRITCH CALIBER to blow some fucking *BUBBLES* so the dreams could help others live on. You know. Dream bubbles. The thing that later became cosmically important? Girl is a puddle on the outside and then a goddamn chasm on the inside, unintentional or not. She managed to pack all that adding up to her character even after she died and just kept serving. If *thats* a bad written and a hated character then I want more of those please

So you would agree with Hussie that she was nothing more than a JOKE character? That she would be written out to push someone else and create more filler characters instead of using existing ones? Because Latula was TOTALLY important to Openbound, of fucking course!!!1 And despite Feferi having a lot of importance with the Horrorterrors and it was her who made the Dream Bubbles happen, she doesn't play in any role towards meeting people like Dave when Dream Bubbles get introduced. It was ARADIA who took that role. Right down to Openbound since it is Aradia also guiding Meenah, not Feferi. Or can at least we agree all Peixes, Condesce, Feferi, and Meenah, just suck in general. That their privileged status made them either power-hungry crazy or ignorant to those around them and in both Pre- and Post-Scratch, still secure them to stay in that position. People can say one is better or worse than the other. In the end though, how Feferi gets pushed to the side despite her potential shows how much Andrew Hussie sucks as a writer. The final endgame of Homestuck series would to be have no fuchsiablood be reigning. No monarchies. Kind of like Wayward Vagabond's vision for no more Kings or Kingdoms. And yet look what happened by the end of Homestuck! KINGDOMS ALL AROUND!!!

#homestuck #Andrew Hussie #Feferi Peixes #Meenah Peixes #The Condesce #her imperious condescension

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mjonthetrack · 1 month ago

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bell book II

Chapter Sixty-Seven

It had been three weeks since the last time he touched her.

Three weeks since she’d pulled him in with shaking hands, told him not to make her regret it, and clung to him like she wanted him to stay for more than the night.

Luis had waited.

He wasn’t clingy—he knew better than to crowd someone who needed space—but space had started to feel like silence. And silence started to feel like distance. She answered texts late, if at all. She skipped his calls. When she did respond, it was short. Dry. Nothing like the way her hands had once trembled against his chest, or the way her voice had cracked when she said she wanted him to stay.

He gave it time. Two weeks, almost three. Told himself she was tired. Overworked. She was—ER shifts were brutal, he knew that. But something else was going on, and he could feel it in his chest like a slow-burning fuse.

By the end of the third week, Luis wasn’t waiting anymore.

He showed up at the hospital around noon, leaning on the edge of the front desk, asking casually if Nurse Fatu was around. The answer didn’t surprise him—she’s in with a patient, might be a while—but what did surprise him was the look one of the techs gave him, a curious little smirk like oh, you must be that guy.

He didn’t wait around. Instead, he took a long walk back to his truck, jaw tight, hands curled around the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. Then, on impulse, he made a turn and drove fifteen minutes down the freeway to the one place she couldn’t hide from—her cousin’s house.

Jacob answered the door barefoot and half-laughing at something on the TV. The smell of weed drifted out warm and slow. Behind him, Jey was already posted on the couch, tossing a football between his hands.

Luis stepped in without waiting for an invite and closed the door behind him.

Jacob offered him the blunt like it was a peace offering.

Luis took it without a word, dragging a slow inhale and letting the smoke roll through his chest like it could settle the storm building there.

“Ion get her,” he said finally, voice flat. “That woman clings to me like I’m air. We fit. We work. And now she’s dodging me like I did something wrong.”

He shook his head, passing the blunt back.

“Why she so quick to run from a man who just wants to love her stubborn ass?”

Jey barked a low laugh from the couch. “Yeah, that’s Tiffany.”

Luis glanced at him sharply. “What the hell does that mean?”

“She ain’t been right since her ex,” Jey said, tossing the football up and catching it.

Luis’s head snapped. “Ex?”

Jacob blew out a slow breath. “Yeah. This brother she was with from, what, nineteen to twenty-five?”

Jey nodded.

“Dude had it all locked down,” Jacob went on. “Did it right, too—made her feel seen, special. He proposed, followed her through med school. Had her thinking they were solid.”

Luis could already feel the heat rising under his skin.

“And then?” he asked.

Jacob grimaced, looking like he hated even repeating it. “Then he cheated. With her home girl.”

Luis’s stomach dropped.

“They were planning the wedding,” Jacob said, voice low now. “Invites ordered. Venue booked. She was staying late at work, doing rotations, grinding to build the life they talked about. Meanwhile, dude’s breaking her best friend down in their bed.”

Jey shook his head with a cold exhale.

Luis just stared. The silence in the room shifted.

Jacob leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “And when she caught him? You know what that sorry motherfucker told her?”

Luis didn’t speak.

“He said, Don’t trip.” Jacob’s voice hardened. “Said they were just vibing, weren’t they? Like that meant something.”

Luis closed his eyes, jaw clenching so hard it hurt.

That’s why. That’s why she backed up every time it got too real. Why she had rules. Why she froze when things felt too easy, too safe, too good. Because the last time she let someone that deep, he took everything and burned it to the ground.

He rubbed a hand over his face, dragging it down slowly. “That’s why she’s hiding.”

Jacob nodded. “She don’t trust herself to choose right. And the more she wants it? The more she thinks she’s about to get blindsided again.”

Jey tilted his head, watching Luis closely. “You mad?”

“No,” Luis muttered, then corrected himself. “Yeah. But not at her.”

He stood up, the air around him tight with new understanding. He felt like a man who’d just found the key to a locked door—only to realize it opened onto a room full of wreckage.

But he wasn’t scared of the mess.

He wanted her.

Luis looked at both of them, voice low but clear. “I ain’t him. And I’m not gonna let her convince herself that I am.”

He was already reaching for the door.

Chapter Sixty-Eight

He waited three more days.

Not because he wanted to.

Because he needed her to have no excuse.

Thursday came—a day he knew she wasn’t working. Her schedule was damn near carved in stone, and after weeks of silence, dry one-word replies, missed calls, and nothing but air where there should’ve been warmth—Luis had had enough.

He pulled up to the compound just after noon.

The sun was high, baking the long gravel driveway that wound between Justice and Zilla’s house and the small, tucked-away home on the other end—her house. The place Tiffany had made her own. Clean lines. Quiet porch. Plants in pots that were starting to wilt. Closed blinds. No movement.

He parked and got out, walking up the path without hesitation. The heat sat heavy on his skin, but it was nothing compared to the weight in his chest.

He knocked. Once. Twice. Then stepped back.

No answer.

He was about to knock again when the door cracked open a few inches—and there she was.

Tiffany.

She looked like she’d been dragged backward through a damn forest.

Hair wild, matted to one side. Eyes bloodshot and puffy like she hadn’t slept in days. One sock on, one off. A stretched-out hoodie sliding off her shoulder and loose cotton shorts that hung low on her hips. Her skin looked dry, pale, and her whole posture screamed worn out.

“Oh—Luis—”

She blinked like she wasn’t sure he was real. And then she swayed.

He caught her arm just in time.

“Shit,” he muttered, steadying her. “Tiff, you alright?”

“I’m—I’m fine,” she mumbled, pulling away half-heartedly. “Just haven’t really been sleeping.”

“You look like you haven’t eaten, either.”

She gave a weak laugh and stepped back, opening the door wider. “What, you came all the way out here to play doctor now?”

“No,” he said, stepping inside. “I came to get answers. 'Cause I’m tired of being avoided like I’m the problem.”

Her house was dark, blinds closed tight. Air heavy, stale. Dishes in the sink. Takeout containers on the counter. The TV was still playing something on mute in the background—reruns, probably. She hadn't just been hiding from him. She’d been hiding from everything.

She didn’t deny it. Just sank onto the edge of her couch like her body gave out. Pulled her knees to her chest. Didn’t say a word.

Luis stood across from her, arms crossed.

“I gave you space,” he said. “Respected your time. Thought maybe work had you twisted up—but it’s not just that, is it?”

She didn’t look at him.

“I talked to Jacob. And Jey.”

Her head snapped up.

“I know about him,” Luis said evenly. “Your ex.”

Tiffany flinched. “They told you?”

“They told me what you should’ve told me. About the man who broke you when you were too young to know better.”

Silence.

He stepped closer.

“Now it makes sense. Why you shut down after you let me in. Why you’ve been acting like loving you is some kind of threat.”

She pressed her forehead to her knees. “I didn’t know how to tell you. Every time I tried, I felt sick.”

Luis crouched in front of her, his voice low but fierce. “You think I don’t see you? You think I don’t feel what this is between us?”

“I do,” she whispered. “And that’s the problem.”

He waited.

She slowly looked up. Her eyes were glassy and raw. “He made me feel safe, too. He held my hand through med school, told me I was his world. And then he fucked my best friend in our bed while I was out trying to build our future.”

Luis’s jaw clenched.

“I found the ring he gave her in his drawer. They were planning a whole second life while I was mapping out our wedding. And when I asked him why, all he said was—‘don’t trip, we were just vibing.’”

Her voice cracked so hard it nearly split her in half.

Luis stood and paced away, dragging a hand over his mouth. “That’s why. That’s why you can’t let me in. Because if I let you fall, and I drop you…”

“You won’t,” she said, barely audible. “But if you do—I won’t come back from it.”

He turned around fast. “I’m not him, Tiffany.”

“I know.”

“Then stop punishing me for what he did.”

She opened her mouth, but he didn’t let her speak.

“I’ve been showing up. Every time. I’ve been patient. I’ve backed off when you needed space. But you—you don’t get to yank me in and push me out whenever fear hits. That’s not love. That’s damage.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks.

He stepped closer.

“You want me? Say it. You want me to stay? Prove it. Because I’m done being the only one fighting for this.”

She stood up slowly, shaky, but met his eyes.

“I don’t know how to let someone love me,” she said. “Not really.”

“Then I’ll teach you,” he said. “But not if you keep running every time it gets hard.”

Her lips parted. She didn’t speak.

Luis stared down at her, breathing hard.

Then her hand reached out—tentative, soft. She gripped the hem of his shirt.

“I want you to stay,” she whispered. “Even if I don’t know how to deserve it.”

He caught her face in both hands, leaned down, and kissed her—slow, firm, real. No heat. No sex. Just truth.

“Then stop hiding,” he breathed against her lips. “I’m right here.”

Chapter Sixty-Nine

The house was quiet but heavy—like the air held its breath, waiting for what came next.

Luis stayed close, letting his hands linger on her skin, tracing invisible maps of safety and promise. He didn’t rush. Didn’t push. Just held her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Tiffany’s breaths were shallow at first, a shaky rhythm betraying all the walls she was fighting to keep up.

“I’m scared,” she whispered.

Luis kissed the corner of her mouth. “I know.”

She let her head fall against his chest, the rough fabric of his shirt soft beneath her cheek. She felt the steady thump of his heart, slow and sure, like a lighthouse guiding her through the storm.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” she said, voice thick with unshed tears.

“You won’t,” he promised. “Not with me.”

His fingers slid into her hair, pulling her closer, and she let herself melt into his warmth. The years of pain, the shattered trust, the fear—it all unraveled in little threads between their quiet touches and whispered promises.

She tilted her head up, searching his eyes.

“Do you really mean that? About not leaving?”

Luis’s gaze was soft, fierce, unwavering.

“Not a chance,” he said. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

That night wasn’t about the fire or passion. It was about the quiet moments—the brush of fingers across skin, the softness of whispered words, the feeling of two broken souls stitching together.

She let him in deeper than before. Shared her fears, her doubts. And he held them gently, never flinching, never judging.

For the first time in a long time, Tiffany felt what it was like to be wanted not despite her scars, but because of them.

Luis stayed with her until sleep finally came—not the restless, panicked kind, but a deep, healing kind. And when dawn peeked through the blinds, it found them wrapped around each other, quiet and whole.

Because sometimes love wasn’t about grand gestures or loud declarations.

Sometimes, love was the calm in the chaos.

And tonight, that was enough.

Chapter Seventy

It had been three days since she’d seen Luis.

She knew he was probably caught up in work—long shifts, emergency calls, the endless demands of his firehouse life.

Still, she wanted to do something. A small gesture to remind him she was still here. Still trying.

So when she pulled up to the firehouse with two to-go boxes in her hands, her heart was hopeful.

But then—

She froze.

The unmistakable sound of his voice calling out a woman’s name stopped her cold.

“Marisol.”

The name sliced through her like a blade.

Careful not to be seen, she rounded the corner with the food, and there they were.

Luis and Marisol.

Locked in a kiss.

Not a quick peck. Not an accident.

But a deep, lingering kiss—deeper than any kiss he’d ever given her.

Her breath caught.

The food boxes slipped from her hands and clattered to the pavement.

The fragile ice that had started melting away because of his promises and tenderness snapped back into place, thick and impenetrable.

She kissed her teeth, fingers trembling as she pulled out her phone.

A quick message to the group chat: “Saw Luis with Marisol. Kissed her. Not just a hello.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away, each step heavier than the last.

Back in her SUV, she slammed the door and sped off toward the compound, her mind racing, heart pounding, chest aching.

When she arrived, Justice and Zilla were already there, laughing together.

Justice caught sight of her and waved her over, her hand sparkling with a new engagement ring.

“Tiff! Guess what?” Justice beamed. “Zilla and I are engaged!”

Tiffany plastered on the biggest smile she could muster.

“Congratulations!” she said, voice steady but hollow.

She hugged them both, then excused herself and made her way up the hill to her house.

The moment the door clicked shut behind her, the weight of it all crashed down.

She slid down to the floor, tears spilling freely.

When she finally stood, she grabbed the vase Luis had brought her—the one filled with the first flowers he ever gave her—and hurled it against the wall.

It shattered, petals and glass scattering like the pieces of her heart.

Chapter Seventy-One

Luis was exhausted.

Not just physically—although the firehouse shift had been brutal—but emotionally, too. Three days without seeing Tiffany felt like a lifetime, but between calls and emergency drills, he’d barely had a moment to breathe.

Then, out of nowhere, she showed up.

Carrying food.

A smile—tentative, hopeful—lighting her face.

He wanted to reach for her. Pull her in. Tell her he was sorry for the distance.

But before he could even move, the scene in front of him shattered everything.

Marisol.

His first love.

The woman he’d told Tiffany about that night she’d opened up—after losing her patient—when their walls fell just a little.

And there they were.

Not just kissing.

Not a quick hello.

They were locked together, like two people trying to forget the years apart.

Luis felt the air leave his lungs.

He saw Tiffany’s eyes—hardening, closing off again—the same eyes that had looked at him with something fragile, something hopeful just days ago.

And then she was gone.

Leaving behind the broken sound of his own mistakes.

Luis clenched his fists, swallowing the guilt and regret roaring inside him.

He knew he had some explaining to do.

But first, he had to find her.

Chapter Seventy-Two

Luis stared at his phone, disbelief swirling in his gut.

Blocked. Everywhere.

Calls, texts, social media—all sealed off like she’d built a fortress around herself.

He stood outside her house on the compound, the place he thought was theirs now feeling like enemy territory.

His fist clenched the steering wheel as he took a deep breath, steeling himself.

He needed to see her. To talk. To fix whatever had gone wrong.

But just as he stepped toward the porch, the screen door creaked open—and out walked a man.

Shirtless, confident, grinning like he owned the place.

Jeremiah Montez.

The same guy Luis had shut down cold at the grocery store a month ago.

Luis’s stomach twisted.

Jeremiah caught sight of him, grinned wider, and called out, “See you at work, Tiffany.”

Luis froze.

Inside, Tiffany peeked from behind the curtain, eyes narrowing when she saw Luis on the porch.

She rolled her eyes and slammed the door shut, locking it tight.

Luis’s heart sank.

The distance between them wasn’t just walls anymore.

It was a chasm.

Chapter Seventy-Three

At first, Tiffany thought the thump she heard was just a delivery truck pulling up the hill.

But then came the next one—louder, heavier.

A grunt.

Then something slammed against the porch steps. Hard.

She froze mid-sip of her coffee, her body stiffening as voices pierced through the cracked window.

“The fuck you smilin’ for now, huh? Huh?! Talk that shit again, pussy!”

Luis.

Her stomach dropped.

Another thud followed—flesh against flesh, a muffled curse, then the scrape of sneakers dragging over gravel.

“Luis?!”

She bolted for the door, nearly tripping over her own feet. She snatched it open and sprinted outside in baggy sweats and one of his old firehouse t-shirts, hair still a mess, breath catching in her throat—

Right as she caught the sight of Luis on top of Jeremiah Montez, fists flying, knuckles already red and raw.

“Luis, the fuck are you doing?!”

She didn’t wait for him to answer—just yanked him off the man like she was peeling back a hurricane.

Luis struggled against her grip for a second, jaw clenched, chest heaving like a wild animal, blood spattered on his shirt and lip curled like he wasn’t done yet.

Tiffany shoved him—hard—both palms on his chest.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Luis stumbled back a step but stood his ground, eyes still burning with rage. “Yo, he got no business in your house, ma. Walkin’ out shirtless like that? Talkin’ slick like he already got you? Nah—I ain’t lettin’ that shit slide.”

“He didn’t do shit,” she snapped, stepping between them. “And if he did, that’s my damn business. We not together, remember?”

“You was mine three nights ago!”

His voice cracked over the words, raw and guttural.

“Yeah? Well you wasn’t actin’ like it when you had Marisol’s tongue down your throat like she was water and you were fuckin’ dying!”

Luis’s mouth opened but nothing came out.

Jeremiah groaned on the ground, rolling over and trying to sit up, but Tiffany shot him a death glare.

“Get the fuck off my porch, Montez. Now.”

He glanced at Luis, then stood, holding his ribs. “Man’s psycho,” he muttered, spitting blood on the gravel.

She didn’t even look at him again, too focused on the fire crawling up her spine as she turned back to Luis.

“You really did that? After everything I told you? You kissed her?”

“I didn’t kiss her first,” Luis said, voice low, the fury giving way to guilt. “She kissed me. I ain’t even see you comin’, Tiff.”

Tiffany laughed—sharp, humorless. “So you just… fell into it? You let it happen?”

“I ain’t sayin’ that,” he snapped. “I fucked up, aight? But you think you gon’ play me too? Block me on everything, change the locks, and let some corny ass pharmacist play house with you like I ain’t just had you fallin’ asleep in my arms?”

She shoved him again, harder this time.

“Don’t you ever come up here like that again. I don’t give a fuck what you saw or thought you saw. You wanna talk? Use your fuckin’ words. Not your fists.”

Luis didn’t move.

His chest rose and fell like he’d just run through fire, fists still clenched at his sides, jaw tight.

“Tiff,” he said, voice cracked. “I was jealous, yeah. I was tight. But it’s only ‘cause I fuckin’ love you.”

Her breath caught.

She didn’t let it show. Couldn’t. Not after what she saw. Not when it hurt like this.

“Then you shoulda thought about that before you let your past climb all over you.”

She turned and walked inside, slamming the door so hard the walls rattled.

Luis stood on the porch, staring at the spot where she’d been.

He’d always thought fire was what he understood best.

But Tiffany?

Tiffany was the burn that stayed.

Chapter Seventy-Four

Luis had always been good at fixing things.

Hose lines. Broken engine valves. Crisis scenes. Hell, even complicated people sometimes.

But not this.

Not her.

Everything he tried to do—was wrong.

He started by texting her from his work phone, the only number she hadn’t blocked yet.

Tiff. I ain’t ask for that kiss. I didn’t want her. I was just caught off guard. Please let me talk to you.

No response.

He sent a voice note two hours later, low and gravelly from smoking and stress.

“Tiff, mami, I ain’t slept. Ain’t even eat today. You know I don’t move like that. I was mad confused—she pulled up on me and kissed me outta nowhere. That ain’t mean nothin’. It wasn’t you. You the one I—fuck. Please, just talk to me.”

Read. Left on delivered.

The silence was louder than any argument she could’ve thrown at him.

So the next day, he tried to show up.

Not like last time—no fighting, no heat. Just him, standing at her gate with a paper bag of her favorite snacks from that little corner bodega she liked. Plátano chips. Salty sunflower seeds. Coconut water. Mints.

She didn’t even come to the door.

The lights were on. Her car was parked out front.

He buzzed the intercom. “Tiff. It’s me. I ain’t here to argue. I just… I miss you.”

Silence.

He buzzed again, his voice cracking this time.

“You gon’ act like we ain’t mean nothin’? Like I ain’t put my whole heart in your hands?”

The porch light flipped off.

He stood there a while longer, bag still in hand, before dropping it gently at her door and walking away.

By the third day, he was pacing in front of Jacob’s place, head down, hoodie up.

“She still not talkin’ to you?” Jacob asked, flicking a lighter and passing him a blunt.

“Nah,” Luis muttered, pulling hard. “Blocked on everythin’. Ion even know what I’m supposed to say no more.”

Jacob didn’t sugarcoat it. “You kissed your ex, bro. That’s like… ground zero for Tiffany. After everythin’ she been through?”

Luis wiped a hand down his face, jaw tight. “She don’t get it. That kiss ain’t mean nothin’. I ain’t feel shit. It wasn’t her.”

“Yeah, but she saw it,” Jacob said flatly. “And to her? That’s all it took.”

Luis closed his eyes, heat behind his ribs.

He didn’t even blame her.

He just wanted a way to make her see him again—really see him.

Not as the man who fucked up, but the man who loved her.

Chapter Seventy-Five

Luis wasn’t built for this kind of silence.

Not from her.

He’d been through infernos hotter than hell, seen shit in burning buildings that could wreck a man’s soul—but none of it compared to the way Tiffany was icing him out.

It wasn’t just avoidance.

It was precision.

Calculated.

Every text? Left unread. Every call? Sent straight to voicemail. Every flower delivery? Returned with the note still sealed. Every mutual friend he asked to “check on her” hit him with the same answer: “She good. She just don’t wanna talk to you.”

She didn’t even look at him at Justice and Zilla’s engagement BBQ two weekends later.

He’d shown up thinking maybe, just maybe, she’d finally crack. Maybe seeing him around people they both loved would soften her edge.

But she kept her sunglasses on the whole time.

Didn’t speak to him once.

When he’d walked by her on the way to the cooler, tried to offer a quiet, “Hey, Tiff,” she turned her back before he finished the word.

The group fell quiet, tension swallowing laughter.

And he just stood there, shoulders squared, jaw clenched, letting it wash over him.

It didn’t stop him, though.

The next day, he stopped by her favorite lunch spot and paid for her order before she got there. The cashier told her and tried to hand her the bag.

She told him to throw it away.

He even wrote her a letter. A real one—pen on paper, no fronting.

*Tiff, You ain’t gotta forgive me yet. I just want you to know I’m still here. I ain’t never lied to you about what I wanted. I still want it. Want you. I’m sorry.

Luis*

It ended up posted in the group chat with a “Look what the fireman dropped off lmao.”

Even Justice wouldn’t look him in the eye when he asked how Tiffany was doing.

“Give her space,” she said gently. “She’s not ready.”

Luis didn’t say what he was thinking—What if she never will be?

He stood outside Tiffany’s gate again that evening, hands in his pockets, staring up at the porch where she used to stand barefoot with her coffee and call him nosy for pulling up unannounced.

Now?

She had blackout curtains. Porch lights off. Door locked like Fort Knox.

He let out a breath and pressed his forehead against the metal bars.

“Damn, ma,” he whispered. “You really gon’ let me burn out here.”

She didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

He already knew the truth.

He was burning for a woman who wasn’t offering even a drop of water.

Chapter Seventy-Six

Luis had gotten used to the routine.

Every chance he got, he showed up. Like a fool. Like a man who didn’t know how to quit.

Some days he’d just sit in his truck up the hill, staring at her front door, waiting to catch a glimpse. Other times, he tried knocking again. Ringing the bell. Hoping.

She never answered.

But Thursday?

Thursday hit different.

He knew it was her day off. Always was. So he pulled up a little earlier than usual, coffee in one hand, nerves balled up in the other.

And then he saw her.

The front door opened, and out stepped Tiffany—looking like sin on Sunday morning.

A tight, red slip dress clung to her curves like it was tailored by temptation itself. Thin straps, a low back, that little slit at her thigh teasing with every step. Her heels clicked against the porch as she locked up behind her.

He blinked, jaw tightening instantly.

She didn’t even wear heels like that.

He stepped out of his truck before he could think better of it.

“Yo—ma,” he barked. “Where the fuck you goin’ like that?”

She paused, slowly turning around.

The sight of him didn’t faze her. Didn’t move her. Didn’t even wrinkle the perfect gloss on her lips.

“I got a date,” she said flatly, voice cold as steel. “Stay out my way, Martinez.”

Luis’s throat went dry.

He scoffed, stepping closer, eyes running over the dress again. “A date? Dressed like that? The fuck you tryna prove?”

Tiffany tilted her head, feigning curiosity. “You jealous? After you out here swappin’ spit with your ex like it was prom night? Oh no, baby. You don’t get to be pressed.”

She moved to brush past him down the steps, her perfume cutting through the air like another slap.

Luis grabbed her wrist gently. “Tiff—”

She yanked it back like his touch burned.

“Don’t touch me. You don’t got that right no more.”

He flinched, swallowing hard. “You really goin’ out with some random? Just to get under my skin?”

She laughed, low and dark. “Nah. I’m goin’ out to remind myself there’s still men who know what the fuck loyalty looks like.”

Then she was gone—heels clicking toward a waiting black car at the end of the drive.

Luis stood there like a man gut-punched by his own damn karma.

He’d lit the match weeks ago.

And now he was watching her burn everything they had to ash.

#damian priest x oc #damian priest fanfic #romance #x black oc #mature fic

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intertexts · 1 year ago

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FUUUUCK DUDE. JUST FINISJED THE ARMSMASTER INTERLUDE. OK first of all mannequin is so fucking scary and this is made even worse by the fact that he a) doesn't talk and b) doesn't MAKE ANY SOUNDS AT ALL????? right out of my nightmares I swear. ANYWAY. Colin Thoughts Incoming (I hate him I hate him i hate him I hate him) (<< in denial)

ok first my collection of screenshots.

I fucking LOVE when a villain/hero "we're not so different you and i" confrontation is written well. holy shit. wake up arm man you fucked up big time!!! now the serial killers want your ass on their team!!! also. the suicidality of it all. i know he said he was doing that to provoke him but. damn colin.

I feel like they're setting up for an armsmaster villain arc and . holy shit???? I was honestly expecting him to go rogue at some point anyway but I thought thay would be as a vigilante and not. FUCKING SLAUGHTERHOUSE NINE. but maybe he won't join them idk. seems like they don't take no for an answer very easily though. THE THING IS I can see him going villain arc considering his personality and arrogance up to this point PLUS his dissatisfaction with the prt as a result of his forced retirement slash house arrest .

BUT. I can't see him doing that without dragon. and I don't think she's exactly... capable? of doing that? bc in her chapter she talked about needing to follow her code and follow certain rules hardwired into her system so idk if she can actually break those???? HOWEVER. IT SEEMS LIKE. SHES GOING TO TELL HIM ABOUT BEING AN AI. which. holy shit. *and* she was thinking about using the prosthetics she used to fix his face on herself????????? dragon building herself a body pog???? maybe she's gonna try to recruit him as a replacement <guy who created her whose name I can't remember rn> and have him mess with her code bc hes a tinker and seems to be familiar with a lot of her systems already. hellyes.

anyway if DRAGON goes villain arc I think we're all majorly fucked because she runs the fucking birdcage. that would be so bad for everyone and everything . good lord. I support women's wrongs though.

GOOD FUCKING CHAPTER. armsmaster is such an interesting character I hate how intrigued i am by him. his and dragons dynamic is so important 2 me I wasn't expecting to like both of them so much.... man.

YEAAAHHHH OH MAN!!!! hehehehe :]]] mannequin is so cool i think.... heart eyes. he's not my favorite of the s9 but he for SURE is one of my favorite capes conceptually i think he's so neat.... thing that isn't even human anymore!!! its such a neat detail that he's absolutely silent i think. so cool...

LOVE THE REST OF THESE ARM MASTER THOUGHTS!!!!!!!!!! i will not speak on them but as always. hehehe. i love ur thought processes here im giggling & shit :33ccc u will see!! u will see!! i love dragon though... she & armsmaster genuinely some of my favorite characters in worm they're so fucking good their dynamic is so genuine & delightful... my parents tbh.

ALSO!! as long as youre here. do u have any thoughts on how this arc is going to pan out? who else the s9 r gonna try and recruit/what that would look like/etc etc etc?

#eyes emoji...#also. YAY.!!! worm time... :]]] dragon i love u dragon. shes everything 2 me im so happy ur also havin a good time <3333 #sharing my garlic bread with u. !!#mac tag!#wormposting

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apocalypticavolition · 1 year ago

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Let's (re)Read The Great Hunt! Chapter 34: The Wheel Weaves

What's in the box? Some people already know and some people don't. As a general rule, if you're in the "don't" category and you hate spoilers, you shouldn't keep reading. If you only know cause you're reading The Great Hunt or you've seen season 2 of the show but you don't want spoilers past that point, you also shouldn't keep reading. I spoil everything.

This chapter begins with the Wheel icon because big things are happening, like assassinations and discovery of the Horn.

He had meant the choices to be a private comment on their stupidity, never dreaming any of them might listen, much less be intrigued. Intrigued in a way. They had demanded more of the same, but they had laughed in the wrong places, at the wrong things. They had laughed at him, too, apparently thinking he would not notice, or else that a full purse stuffed in his pocket would heal any wounds.

Another sign of how divorced the nobility in this country is from the commonfolk and by extension reality. They have two very different storytelling cultures and little overlap on anything. And yet Thom's bitterness about this has a hint of hypocrisy - he complains they thought he wouldn't notice their mockery even as he had thought they wouldn't notice his.

He was still not sure what he had intended to say. Rand was gone with his friends, and the Aes Sedai. It left a feeling of something not done.

The important thing is that you tried, and of course that now you can be extra angry at yourself for what happened because you delayed.

She rolled limply onto her back, staring up at him, glazed eyes open wide above the gash across her throat. The side of the bed that had been hidden by her body was dark and sodden.

I mean, what is there to say? Girl had great potential as a person and as a character and all that matters, to the point where she certainly stops getting mentioned after only a book or two, is that she spurs Thom to act now.

“The Game? I’m not mixed up in Daes Dae’mar! Who would want to kill me for the Great Game?”

Thom's protestations ring even more hollow. Where Rand's naivety is excusable, Thom's speaks only to how out of practice he is. Dude met with someone everyone thought was a lord, is performing for other lords, and thinks he's out of the Game? He basically chose to keep playing.

And there has been a woman, a lady, I have seen more than once while asking after him.

Lanfear meanwhile is so contemptuous of the Third Agers that she doesn't even care to disguise herself properly among them, I guess. I'm surprised she doesn't just spy herself though.

“If you mean Barthanes, you’re too late. Everybody’s talking about it already. He is dead. His servants found him this morning, torn to pieces in his bedchamber. The only way they knew it was him was his head stuck on a spike over the fireplace.”

Forget who killed Asmodean, who the heck killed Barthanes? It probably wasn't Galldrian; killing a random is one thing but having his rival brutally eviscerated is another. It couldn't have been Fain, he was already gone. Ishamael or Lanfear might have done it by way of the gholam, but what would piss either of them off enough? The Horn going to Toman Head is hardly Barthanes' mistake and doesn't really interfere with Lanfear's desired outcomes at all. Plus if they did use the gholam, what did it get up to all this time between now and its first appearance?

“These aren’t Barthanes’s men, Thom. At least, that one isn’t.” She nodded toward the fat man. “It’s the worst kept secret in Cairhien that he works for House Riatin. For Galldrian.”

This vaguely points at Galldrian being responsible for Barthanes' death as well I suppose, but like I said the method seems entirely out of character.

“Perhaps you had better think about leaving, too. It looks as if someone is firing the granaries.”

I'm also going to rule out the rioters as an unlikely suspect on the grounds that Barthanes' death is probably the inciting incident for them, not the first, implausbly well-hidden step. But seriously. Who did it?

*considers Verin for a moment*

Nah. She's the least suspicious person alive.

The pack horse bearing his precious burden bumped his leg, and he kicked it in the ribs without looking; the animal snorted and jerked back to the end of the lead he had tied to his saddle.

So obviously the part that immediately follows this about how Fain fed the horse's previous owner to the Trollocs is way, way eviler, but let's just appreciate exactly how dedicated to unpleasantness Fain has become.

Men gathered more information on the invaders, as if they actually believed they would eventually do something with what they knew, but they sometimes tried to hold back. Women, by and large, seemed interested in going on with their lives whoever their rulers were, yet they noted details men did not, and they talked more quickly once they stopped screaming.

I kind of don't buy this? Random women from every village are being taken away and never seen again. I'm not a woman myself but I don't think it's a stretch to say that such actions would put most women on edge for fear of the Seanchan coming back and taking more tribute, since they don't know about the damane selection process yet.

The people hurried about their business with eyes down, bowing whenever soldiers passed, but the Seanchan paid them no mind. It all seemed peaceful on the surface, despite the armored Seanchan in the streets and the ships in the harbor, but Fain could sense the tension underneath. He always did well where men were tense and afraid.

1) I'm very sad that this element of the occupation disappears in later books it rings a lot truer; everyone should be afraid.

2) Is Fain saying thinking this in the sense of looking back over his career as a Darkfriend and how he always did better scaring them with peddler's tales, or is this the sum total of his evil reflecting on Aridhol, the Ways, and more? Both?

Women went in and out of a house across the street, women linked by silver leashes, but he ignored them. He knew about damane from the villagers. They might be of some use later, but not now.

Seriously: what use can Fain be imagining for damane, considering his current power set?

He was always confident, but never more than where lords feared an assassin’s knife from their own followers.

This is definitely more all of the evil within Fain than his own experiences, as we have no reason to think he was ever an assassin in his backstory.

“I have seen chests such as this, chests from the Age of Legends,” the High Lord said, “though none so fine. They are meant to be opened only by those who know the pattern, but I—ah!”

Major points to Turak who easily sidesteps Fain's plans entirely by accident. As much as I loathe the Seanchan, I despise Fain more.

Still holding the Horn and the dagger, Turak looked at the cabinet, then away. He said nothing, but the other Seanchan snapped quick orders, and in moments men in plain woolen robes appeared through a door behind the screens bearing another small table.

For all the shit I've given the Cairhienien nobility, I suppose I also need to offer them some credit for at least not expecting their servants to interpret their every facial gesture. Rich people on every continent desperately need to get over themselves.

Fain could stand it no longer. He reached for the dagger.

Fain isn't anywhere near as slick as he thinks he is, considering he went about thirty seconds without trying to nab his precious. Fucking Gollum does better about this stuff bro, learn from him.

“I am to sound it.” Turak’s tone was flat. “And break the White Tower. Again, why? You claim to obey, await, and serve, but this is a land of oath-breakers. Why do you give your land to me? Do you have some private quarrel with these . . . women?”

And again, we see that Fain's schemes immediately crash and burn when given the briefest exposure to people who know what schemes are. He's just like all these nobles in his own twisted way: he's gotten so used to having the Darkfriends jump when he says jump (or die) that he doesn't understand why no one else will willingly be his puppets.

Turak was silent so long that Fain began to wonder if he needed further convincing; he was ready with more, as much as was required.

Pro-tip for those of you who find themselves in situations where you need to lie: less is actually much better than more. We can thus conclude that Fain isn't even good at lying, despite the fact that he's spent his whole career as a liar!

“But, High Lord,” Fain protested, “you must—” He found himself lying on his side, his head ringing. Only when his eyes cleared did he see the man with the pale braid rubbing his knuckles and realize what had happened. “Some words,” the fellow said softly, “are never used to the High Lord.” Fain decided how the man was going to die.

I myself am rooting for neither of these fellows, both so awful in their own right. And note again how the Seanchan veneer of civility disappears at a moment's notice without warning. There's no way a populace can happily adopt the Seanchan customs as a whole, not without rebellion after rebellion breaking out.

He had not even known of the existence of an Empress until Turak mentioned her, but access to a ruler again . . . that opened new paths, new plans. Access to a ruler with the might of the Seanchan beneath her and the Horn of Valere in her hands. Much better than making this Turak a Great King.

It's funny that he thinks this is an option for him, when his best case scenario is that he ends up doing exactly what Semirhage will do and thus completely destroys his advantage and his worst case scenario is that Semirhage shows up and starts experimenting with an absolutely fascinating case study.

If I kept the Horn of Valere, all between myself and the throne would think I meant to be first hereafter, and while the Empress, of course, wishes that we contend with one another so that the strongest and most cunning will follow her, she currently favors her second daughter, and she would not look well on any threat to Tuon.

I'm sure that name won't be relevant later!

“The Empress’s Listeners may be anywhere,” Turak continued. “They may be anyone. Huan was born and raised in the House of Aladon, and his family for eleven generations before him, yet even he could be a Listener.”

Secret police: a surefire sign that your civilization is doing just great for itself and won't collapse under its own bloodlust in fifty years or less.

At the Court of the Nine Moons, in Seandar, one such as you could be given to the Seekers for a shift of your eye, for a misspoken word, for a whim. Are you still eager?

I'm sure that Nine Moons thing won't come up again anytime soon either.

And again we see more evidence that the only reason the Empire is holding itself up is its consistent expansionary policies that consistently deliver it new victims to burn through. If the Empire's borders were ever truly stable it would collapse immediately under the tyranny of Seandar.

A young man, but vile in the Shadow beyond belief, with a lying, devious tongue. In many places he has claimed to be many things, but always the Trollocs come when he is there, High Lord. Always the Trollocs come . . . and kill.

Fain is not even a good Aes Sedai liar, since Caemlyn is still doing just great for itself at the moment, as are a variety of the places he passed on the road to it.

Fain let the grimacing Huan pull him out of the room, hardly even listening to the snarled lecture on what would happen if he ever again failed to leave Lord Turak’s presence when given permission to do so.

Considering that Fain was allegedly giving good information about a coming threat, this seems like another really shitty policy on the part of the Seanchan. The illusion of order that is easily cleared away by chaos.

Sadly, the illusion of time is less easily cleared away and ours is up because the chapter is done. Next time: Steddings!

#let's read #wheel of time #wot #robert jordan #wheel of time spoilers #wot spoilers #thom merrilin #dena #zera #padan fain #turak aladon #huan

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sunsetsmakemesad · 10 months ago

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Oshi no Ko chapter 160

Alright.

Teehee

Silly guy

Denial mental illness moment

Or he's just being a liar

Let him talk about his gf, nino

Hm.

So that's the route we're going for

YESSS BEST PANEL

AMAZING

for clarification I am not all that excited about hikaru's character as it is currently, but this panel rules

crazy.

Gorgeous wonderful family I am eating them

Tbh I'm not that surprised with the way he went about it, hikaru acted the role of the innocent boy since he was a young child.

I just don't see where Aka is going with this

Aqua thought he'd get away scott free with saying Kana is easy to manipulate. No fr what was he manipulating her for i forgot

Hm. This is. More in character than I thought it would be? That's a plus at least.

But. Since when was Hikaru's arc about his talent.

Alabama love?

Ok I'm sorry I don't hate ruby that much. She's a sweet girl at heart but Aka really just made an incest plot and then. Carried on and never mention it again. Okay.

It is sweet to see how much Aqua cares about Runy though. He really cares for his sister

Oh it's about Sarina well okay. They never stopped seeing each other as gorou and sarina.

All in all, I do like sarina. She was just a girl hoping to be able to grow up to achieve her dreams. At her core she really just wanted to love and be loved central theme of the series haha

EYES OF LOVE EYES OF LOVE AAHADGHHC

AI IN THE PANEL LOOKIJG AT THEM THE EYES OF LOVE SHES LOOKING AT THEM WITH EYES OF LOVE

Sorry for the glazing but Mengo's art is still very pretty

Ok so. Aqua threatens kamiki with aknife and I suppose they'll either start fighting or Akane will intervene(because of course she will)

Well. That's the end of the chapter. I didn't hate it but I have no idea where Aka is going with Hikaru's character. I suppose everything before was meant to be him deceiving you but I hope not because it's just too late to have him turn out to be someone entirely else.

I just dislike how it was pulled off. The evil villain->actually really sympathethic dude->evil villain

And it's. Okay. I just think it wasn't very well written(i'm not that good of a writer myself so take this with a grain of salt)

I suppose part of me is just upset that my interpretation of him was totally wrong but also this twist just doesnt make sense to me

Why are we questioning who the villain is and the villain's motivation in the final arc

Well, stick around for chapter 161

#oshi no ko #onk #onk liveblog #oshi no ko liveblog #oshi no ko chapter 160

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cosmicgrapevine · 2 years ago

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Tabby sat with her legs crossed, not daring to move a muscle. They were easily a thousand feet up at the moment. There was really nothing keeping her from falling to her death, other than her own stillness, but she felt safe anyway. Lynd steered, and she wrapped her arms over him, like they were sharing a Harley speeding down an empty highway. “Why do you think he didn’t rat on us?” She asked. “Spite, I imagine. Travis was his captor, not us.” Tabby turned the mirrors over; she was holding them so they wouldn’t slip out of Lynd’s coat. “We should just keep these. Hold them for ransom so Florentino will let you in.” “I would rather not try to extort the most powerful Warden in the country, but…hm. Never mind, I’m surely mistaken.” “No, keep going.” “It’s just…the words he used. I kept mulling them over last night. ‘No power on Earth’. ‘Out of my hands’. And even if a sailor cannot stop the tides, he can navigate them. Wardens choose their words carefully, just like everything else. Perhaps he is saying there is a path, but I must discover it on my own. But if it exists, it will be near impossible to find.” “Let’s say we find it. You make it to Kahoti, what’s first on your list?” “Well…you said Melanie is already attending school again. I would like to join her.” Tabby started laughing, so loud that she worried someone on the ground would hear. “Dude,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye, “You did not risk death for weeks on end just to go to fucking high school, gimme a break. Like, hold out for college, at least.” “Markstepper education is very informal, focused on survival and pragmatics. I know nothing of history or the sciences…I can barely read, surely you have noticed; I learned all those languages by speech alone. And I cannot even drive a car: the whole ride down, I felt so useless. Where else would I learn these things?” “Look, it’d be great if that’s how it worked, just show up and say ‘I need knowledge! Teach me!’ But it’s not. Even if they let you in without an ID and stuff, you’re gonna do things their way. Their classes, their rules, their system. And the other kids…” Tears flew from her lashes again, and not tears of laughter. “They’ll find whatever you hate about yourself and cut you with it until all that’s left is scars. Just for fun, just because they can. I’m sorry, but there’s no way they’ll accept you.” They were close to Kahoti now, its winding streets almost forming a pattern to her eyes, some small piece of Florentino’s Ward, before it slipped away again. What if this is the last time I see Lynd? She thought suddenly. Florentino doesn’t want me here; if Rita pushes him he’ll ship Dad and me back on the next flight out. She couldn’t let that be the last thing she said. “I—I mean, my last school was like that, but maybe this one’s better…” “No, you were right. Idiotic of me to think otherwise. Once I get what I need from the old man, there’s nothing for me here. Try pushing your weight downward; we’re descending soon.” His voice was flat. “There are certain lies Marksteppers tell each other. One is that the civilized world is nothing but panicky cattle who would be slaughtered without our protection. Another is that actually joining that world is the height of dishonor, an unforgivable betrayal of your clan. We beat that into each other until we never forget it. And they must not have beaten me hard enough.” His voice wasn’t flat anymore. “I want to stay.” He said it with a mix of shame and bleak acceptance, like he was confessing to a crime. “You’re the first person I’ve told,” he whispered.

#writing sample #tabby #lynd

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sorcerous-caress · 2 years ago

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Solllll :( :( :( :( :( I think they need like. 30 more hugs :( Them plus Lae’zel was really cute though.,,,,, a red dragon descendant and a githyanki huehue love how they’d offer to become a mindflayer instead of her ;-; Also yeah Minthara and Halsin would be great 👀👀 + any other characters you want to write for .!! I’m assuming they bond with Minthara about bullying Gale early on if nothing else

Getting asks about Sol give me such a serotonin boost that I save answering them for the days I'm not feeling well so I can indulge myself <33333 I don't wanna consume them all in one day, they're as precious as candy.

And I wrote the Halsin, Minthara and other companions here!

So how about instead, here is how Sol would react to receiving a hug from the companions + Durge + Tav. Assuming everything happens in act 3.

Shadowheart

By that time they feel guilty for the way they treated her in act 1, they watch her walk towards them and wonder if she's going to slap them after their half-assed apology the other day that Tav delivered to Shadowheart without their permission.

Whatever. She has a right to, they tell themselves. It's nothing, they've felt worse and if it will make her feel better then so be it. So they don't move and stand waiting for her, holding her gaze without faltering.

They're ready for the pain but instead are met with her warm embrace. With her hands wrapping around them and cradling their back, with her face nuzzling between their neck and shoulders. Her armour plates feel cold against their exposed skin.

They hated how good sharrans were at reading others emotions, they hated how her hug tightened around them when she felt the lump stuck in their throat.

They want to say it, I'm sorry. It burns and keeps slipping from their tongue, it scorches them to admit it. It's weakness. Their arms stay still on their side, clenching and unclenching their sharp fingers into fists.

The battle of the absolute that awaits them right around the corner crosses their mind, they might very well die as if they've never lived to begin with.

Is this really what they want to be their legacy?

"I am...deeply sorry for-" they lift their hand, entangling their fingers in Shadowheart's hair and pushing her face further into their neck, making sure she cannot lift her head to see the glossiness in their eyes or tremble of their lips, "for everything."

They still can't hug her back, they don't feel like they deserve to.

"I know." Shadowheart says. She eventually pulls back, Sol turned their face away from her in shame by that point.

Wyll

The watch the reunion between him and his father with bitterness, green envy burning through their brown eyes.

They hold themselves back, they don't say anything, don't ruin this beautiful moment just because of their selfish desires. They have a half-mind to know when they should shut up.

Wyll doesn't. As he calls out to them to come here, join the hug. Sol thinks he must have lost his mind or something.

They give him that look of "dude this is your moment, enjoy it and let me be" but he's persistent. And apparently the apple didn't fall far from their tree for his father is approving of this.

Of Sol.

Okay, now they're fully embarrassed. There is no fucking way he thinks that they'll just waltz up to a three people hug in front of the whole camp as if they don't have a reputation to uphold.

But they were raised on those strick"never disobey your parents and elders" rules and fuck does that training kick in when Wyll's father calls over to them to come. Damn you generational trauma.

There is an awkward clacking of heels as they walk over to the father and son duo, with the reluctance of a dog being lead to a bathtub.

When Wyll eventually has to make the first move and pull them into a hug, Sol closes their eyes and stand there like 🧍.

This is so disgustingly sweet and wholesome they think they're going to throw up. Wyll shouldn't be sharing his happiness with them, he shouldn't be sharing his father and he shouldn't be sharing this hug. He more than earned all of them for everything he went through.

But he is...and Sol is shown love. Shown understanding from Wyll who knows what's it like to see others hug their parents when yours aren't around for you.

His father is a surprisingly understanding man, he treats Sol with kindness and not like the intruder they feel they are. Sol gains respect for him because of that, they still haven't forgiven him for what he did to Wyll but...the fact he is willing to atone for his mistakes and listen to sense is not something they ever expected.

Lae'zel

Honestly they're always happy to see Lae'zel and especially in act 3. Her presence always brings good fortune and news like "found some guys we gotta kill" or "Let's fight to the death again" ah her activities are always so thoughtful and fun.

Sol absolutely loves how they don't need to hold back around her, how no matter how much they burn her and engulf her in flames, she will still rise up to swing her big sword at them. Even when one of them goes too far, the other never holds a grudge and actually compliments them on their strength.

The way she talks about red dragons sometimes as if they're some majestic creatures. The way she doesn't condem their selfish or greedy nature, how she sees beauty in their absolute grace.

Sol tried to return the favour one time but didn't know how to, they asked Astarion and he suggested frogs so they tried talking to Lae'zel about how beautiful frogs are but it seemed to fly over her head. The next time it was her turn to cook, she made a special frogs dish for Sol to eat.

They munched on brunt frogs legs wondering if it might be a bad idea to trust Astarion. Or if they need to find and kill a dragon to feed to Lae'zel?

This whole situation is what resulted in the hug, she was talking to them about red dragons again one day when they commented how they actually smell like them too.

Lae'zel got quiet, observing them with cautious eyes before immediately lunging at them. She had her tiny nose pressed against their pulse point and all of her body wrapped around them in a very intimate hug.

"Hmm yes, I see that you were telling the truth." Lae'zel murmurs, still obserbed in their lineage and not aware od the fact Sol is too focused on the hug to register her words.

This is definitely one of the top ten best moments of their life, even better than that one time as a kid when their first ever scale started growing out of their face.

Sol wraps their arms around her, the two idiots stay like this for a while, hugging and talking about dragons and githyanki.

Gale

If Gale offers it they'll immediately reject it, so it has to happen by surprise or accident.

You see, they were just normally minding their own business around their side of the room when Gale came by, said how he has been thinking about something and he realised why Sol is so mean to him.

"I've concluded it must be your rough upbringing which have resulted in your misplaced mistrust in others." He spoke with such confidence and consideration, a sympathetic look in his puppy brown eyes. "

"So?" They replied.

"Soooo...I'm very willing to start a new page with you, here is to our future happy friendship!" Gale's words held so much power in them and sincerity, it was clear this is something he has been putting a lot of thought int

Sol froze as he pulled them into a hug, patting their back awkwardly. Gale closed his eyes reading to cast a counterspell at the tip of his tongue as he held strongly in the hug.

Then Sol wrapped their arms around his neck, his smile grew as he thought he finally cracked down their walls. Only for them to tighten their hold until he couldn't breath, cutting off his air until he loosen his grip around them.

They immediately broke away from his embrace.

"I would rather hug a cactus at least it doesn't smell like cheap magic."

Their friendship was rather short lived.

Halsin

Maybe it's his bear form and he's high on some honey and cuddles them, they don't recognise him and happily let this adorable bear nuzzle them. Animals never befriend them so easily, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity and they haven't really been this close to a bear before. Even the most cuddly of cats run away from them.

Then you make a comment on how Halsin needs to tone down his honey consumption and it's like they were drenched in cold water.

Desperately kicking their way out of the heavy bear on top of them, clawing at the dirt to pull themselves away as if he's burning them alive. Halsin doesn't register their attempts and his fur is too thick for them to make any scratches.

So they do the only thing they know, they bite him, deep.

There is a metallic taste in their mouth and the smell of burnt fur follows after. They're seriously uncomfortable with this and want their personal space back.

Ugh the one time an adorable animal finally trusts them and it's this fake druid wannabe, they refuse to be on a team with him for a whole week after this incident. And keep snapping at anyone who touches them even if it's you.

Halsin seriously unnerves them. Even when he sincerely apologise after, they tell him they don't his apology, he should just keep his distance and stay away.

Minthara

There is no way either of them would start the hug, even by accident. Sol keeps their distant away from companions and Minthara is too smart and cautious to touch them, even by accident.

She does kinda of treat them as an endangerment and Sol does the same. Both are aware of how easily the other is to tick off.

You'll have to be the one to plan this hug, maybe it's a dare, or maybe you play the leader card. Whatever it is, both of them are really hesitant and would need a lot of convincing.

When it finally happens it's...awkward, stiff. Minthara insists on having water nearby and Sol insists on Minthara dropping her sword before the hug. It's like the awkward hug two dads would give to each other because their spouces pressured them into it.

You picked the most emotionally constipated people in camp for this.

It's over quickly and they don't speak about it. If you ask Sol how it felt, they tell you it's none of your business. If you ask Minthara, she'd say it was as disappointing as she thought, why did you even suggest this?

Both of them actually enjoyed it a bit.

Durge

You're struggling against your ropes, against the dark thoughts swarming your brain.

Blood. Blood. Blood.

It repeats, you can only focus on the Sorcerer kneeling besides you.

How delicious it would be to tear them limb from limb, to show them how weak they really are. Would they beg for mercy or would their pride make them a boring silent kill? How much torture can they endure before their mind breaks?

Sol is looking at you with defeated eyes. As if they've seen this sight before, as if this isn't their first time holding a loved one down.

Pain isn't a great cost. A lot of things are worth enduring it for. Beauty, love, family, power.

You.

They ignore your previous words of staying away as they lean down, hugging your struggling body against theirs. They're strong enough by this point to hold you down, strong enough to hold your snapping jaw close.

It's okay, the tell you, they'll give you whatever you ask for. Just stay, don't let the voices win, don't lose yourself.

They aren't always careful, they end up with a couple bone deep bites from you. But they never burn you, never look at you with any resentment. Only understanding, only compassion.

It's the longest hug they've ever given anyone.

They'll do whatever it takes to calm you down, they never want you to feel alone even in your most dangerous of states. They never want you to experience the shame or isolation that eats up at them.

Tav

They snapped at you in anger when you touched their flower, it's gotten so old that a mere single touch made one of the petals easily crumble and fall.

They said mean words, very mean things as they blamed you for ruining something that saved them. Seething rage blinding them to the hurt expression on your face.

But you're not snapping back, not taking the bait. Sol is growing more irritated, why can't you ever do anything right? They yell.

It doesn't matter how you react, or what you explain. They end up storming away. You don't see them the next day but their stuff is still there, their precious belongings still next to yours.

They'll eventually be back, after they cooled off. They don't meet your eyes, don't talk to you much.

You can corner them and force them to face you, tell them this is getting absurd and their silent treatment won't fix the situation, that if they're angry at you they should just say so.

They're not angry at you, they're angry at themselves, they confess. You shouldn't forgive them, you should be angry, you should hate them for how they can't control something so simple as their anger, for being mean to you over something so stupid.

...but that flower really meant a lot to them, Sol knows you didn't mean it. They it was old and a miracle it survived the many battles they've been through for this long. But all they felt is unbearable pain when they saw it crumble and fall. They tell you they'd have preferred you severed a limb of theirs instead.

It doesn't excuse their actions they know. You deserve better, they can't be better. This is a losing game you're playing with them, because no matter how hard they try they always slip, something one day will always make them snap.

And they'll always hurt you, no matter how much they love you. So please either hurt them back or go, don't be this selflessly kind. They don't have anything of worth to offer you.

...why are you still standing here? Didn't you hear them?

You want this? You want them as they are? God...You're really an idiot.

But you're their idiot.

They immediately hug you, apologising deeply for all the words they said. They don't want to let go, they never want to let go of you. Don't be cruel and take away the single speck of love they somehow managed to swidle out of this life, out of the destiny they were born to fullfill.

Their kind is not meant for love, but for power. And you make them feel the weakest they have ever felt. It's exhilarating.

#♡Sol #♡myocs #♡several characters

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waywardxwords · 1 year ago

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OMG. @zepskies - sdlfkjsldfkj. I'm not even functioning at the moment, but I'm gonna try to get coherent thoughts out here, lol.

I hate-hate-hate that she had to go back into the office, but it was inevitable, I guess. I loved how Dean kept checking up on her, just to be sure she was alright.

“As you know, my father’s back in town,” you heard Nick say. You inched closer to the door and cautiously peeked through the three inches of space in the doorway. “We’re working together on this,” he said. “Keep an eye on the cop. Wait for an opportunity.” You blinked in shock. Holy shit…Nick’s father is Azazel.

Alllll of this had me internally screaming, "NO, YOU KNOW TOO MUCH! PLUG YOUR EARS AND GO AWAY!" lol. Ughhh. On the edge of my seat with this one.

I was actually super surprised she decided to call John, but I understood her reasoning behind it (I think it also paired well with the story, because [in my opinion] I feel like Dean would have gone straight to her in that moment, and she maybe didn't feel like that was necessary?) Also, Dean does handle pressure well, but I feel like he wouldn't handle it as well when it comes to her. John is kind of an unbiased third party in this situation, so makes sense.

“I want to go over that report you brought upstairs,” he said.

Ughhhh. I was hoping she had snuck away fast enough.

I had to have expected there to be a fire at some point, but I wasn't expecting it yet! SO GOOD. But terrifying!

Bobby saw the desperation in the younger man’s eyes, and he sympathized. “Have you tried calling her again?”

I really, really, really loved this exchange with Bobby. I feel like Bobby has kind of been a hard-ass a little bit? Which I get, with the role he plays in the fire house (good ole Bobby Singer ❤). But I loved how here he could see the desperation in Dean. It shows how much he cares about Dean and his wellbeing, too.

But I also respect that he has rules to follow to keep his firefighters safe. So I fully expected his response to Dean being that of following protocol.

(I also loved how Benny, Jack and Gordon all followed Dean up the stairwell even though they weren't supposed to.)

I'm so glad Andréa was able to get out, but seriously - edge of my seat this entire chapter. And then Dean found her (so glad he got to her rather quickly, all things considered) but then the FALL. WHYYY!

Something that I really loved though was the fact that she woke up to Eileen and Sam.

I feel like a big part for the reader has been that she is still struggling to understand who she belongs with. After her grandfather passed, it felt like she felt alone. But now, Sam and Eileen are there to help her and take care of her as she recovers. I'm glad she has them.

Ugh and then to end it with this:

“Like everything else, that girl is a problem I’m going to fix,” Daniel said. “Along with the whole Winchester brood.”

Hate that Nick survived (although is it weird that I feel strangely bad for him, like his father is such a dick, it's no wonder he turned out how he did? And the fact that nothing he does seems to be good enough? Idk - still hate him. But feel a teeensy bit bad for the dude).

SO GOOD! Sorry for the novel. And sorry for blowing up your notifications, lol. Gotta get caught up!!

Smoke Eater - Part 16

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

Song Inspo: “Run to You” by the Pentatonix

Word Count: 6,200 Tags/Warnings: Physical altercation, perilous situations, fire hazards, injuries, angst, Nick and Azazel being evil psychos.

Part 16: “Break Down the Gates”

The holiday couldn’t last forever. Eventually, you had to go back to work.

Dean didn’t like it, and neither did you. Hell, even Sam had tried to find an opening in the district attorney’s office for you. Unfortunately, all of the positions you were remotely qualified for were filled.

And as your bills had to get paid, it meant you had to take Betsy all the way up to the 22nd floor of the Savage & Co. building on a Monday morning.

Dean was already calling you.

You couldn’t answer until you got off the elevator and away from its shitty reception, but you let out a sigh before you called him back.

“Hey,” you greeted.

“Hey, sweetheart. How you doin’?” Dean asked.

“I’m good. I just got to my office,” you replied. I was also fine 20 minutes ago on the road.

You had to be patient though. You knew he was worried about you, now for more than one good reason.

“Good. Got your taser all charged up?”

“Yep, it’s in my purse,” you said. You closed the door to your office and locked it. “Which is going in my desk. You’re at the station?”

“Yeah, having my coffee right now.”

“Okay, tell the guys I said hi.”

“Will do,” said Dean. “You need anything, just call me. If you can’t get ahold of me, call Cas, or Sam, or even my dad.”

“I promise I will,” you replied. “I have to get to work here, but I hope you have a good day. And be safe.”

“That I will,” he promised in turn. “You too, baby.”

You smiled.

Once you hung up with Dean and got settled at your desk, you started by powering through your work emails. All too soon, however, there was a knock at your door. You fought against the tremor of unease that ran up your spine.

“Who is it?” you asked.

“It’s Marv,” replied your coworker, through the door. “Since when do you lock yourself in your office?”

You let out a breath and smiled. You got up and went to let him in. “I’ve found that people are less likely to interrupt me when they can’t get in.”

When the door opened, Marv gave you a look of begrudging acceptance.

“I hear ya,” he said. The man was a hermit himself, so if anyone was going to understand your self-barricading, it was Marv.

He handed you a hard-copy manilla envelope containing his monthly report, because he also had a disdain for email.

“Why don’t you give this to Nick yourself?” you asked with a frown.

Marv held up placating hands. “Because he’s an ass, and I can only deal with so much idiocy in my life.”

“Then give it to Josh! He’s the new Senior Manager,” you pointed out.

“Josh kisses Nick’s ass. Therefore, he’s become an even bigger idiot,” Marv replied. “I’m telling you, my constitution just can’t bear it.”

You rolled your eyes and took the folder from him. “All right, get outta here. I’ll deal with this.”

“Thank you,” he said, inclining his head. He soon left to return to his hole of an office. You’d only been in there once. It had been stacked to high heaven with books and loose papers. You didn’t know how the man functioned, but you assumed it was equal parts caffeine and Prozac.

So you took the report, and you went up to the 30th floor for the first time in months.

You went down the hall to Josh’s office first, but you could hear from the other side of the closed door that he was locked in a meeting with one of the more difficult clients.

You could come back later, or just drop the folder off with Nick’s assistant.

You went back down the hall and found that Nick’s office door was cracked open, but you weren’t about to go in, even just to deliver a simple report. You didn’t want to speak to him, let alone enter his office.

His assistant was out on a break, it seemed, so you couldn’t just give it to her. You contemplated leaving it on her desk with a note. But that’s when you heard the voices coming from within the office.

“As you know, my father’s back in town,” you heard Nick say. You inched closer to the door and cautiously peeked through the three inches of space in the doorway. There was another man inside, slightly taller than Nick, but leaner. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a plaid shirt. His long arms were crossed as he listened.

You could tell by the way he stood, however, that this wasn’t an associate from one of their accounts. He didn’t look like a businessman or a lawyer. The way he stood was sharper, more calculated even in his laxness.

Your brain caught up with the conversation as Nick continued to speak.

“We’re working together on this,” he said. “Keep an eye on the cop. Wait for an opportunity.”

“Together, huh? Azazel has his orders. You trying to take his place?” the other man replied. His voice was thin and nasal. You saw his profile, however. His eyes were dangerous.

Your gaze widened at the implications of his words though. Azazel?!

“Dad agrees with me. The guy’s not getting the hint, so we’ll need to remind him who really makes the rules,” Nick said.

You blinked in shock. Holy shit…Nick’s father is Azazel.

You clasped a hand over your mouth before the gasp could escape. A sharp breath still echoed through the hall. The men’s heads began to turn, but you did as well—away from the door and booking it down the hall as quietly and quickly as you could.

Your heart pounded while you searched for a way out of the hallway, out of plain sight. You found the nearest bathroom and went into the women’s. It seemed empty, at least.

There you rushed into one of the stalls and locked it. You realized that you had your phone in your pocket, and you took it out with trembling hands. Your thumb hovered over Dean’s name as panicked breaths escaped you.

But the more you thought about what you’d heard, and Nick’s ominous threat about a cop, you found yourself scrolling lower in your contacts. You called John Winchester.

It rang a few times, and all the while you made silent, fervent prayers. Pick up, damn it! You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

“Winchester,” he answered.

“John, it’s me,” you whispered. “Azazel’s here. Or, he’s not here, here, but I know who he is. Well, I mean kind of—”

“Okay, wait. Slow down,” he said. “What about Azazel? You know who he is?”

“He’s Nick’s father,” you hissed. Trying to contain yourself and speak quietly was not easy. “I met him once at a company networking event, like a month after I got hired. Daniel Savage. He built Savage & Co. from the ground up. But he handed off the reigns to Nick years ago.”

It seemed to take John a moment to compute on that one, but he eventually replied.

“You’re at the office now?” John asked.

“Uh, yeah!” you replied testily. “I’m hiding out in a bathroom stall.”

“Okay, take it slow, all right?” he said. “You’re gonna go back to your office, calm. Like you didn’t just hear what you heard. You’re gonna take an early lunch, and you’re gonna come straight to the precinct for me. We’ll make sure you’re safe.”

You took a deep breath to steady yourself as you nodded, even though he couldn’t see it.

“Okay. I need to call Dean,” you said.

“I’ll fill him in. Just focus on getting out of there,” John said.

You agreed, but you still felt shaky when you ended the call. No one had entered the bathroom, and it had been a few minutes already, so you chanced stepping out of the stall and into the hallway. That too was empty.

You sucked in another steadying breath. This time you went down the stairs to get back to your office. It felt unusually warm in the stairwell. Hot enough that you actually started to sweat on the way down to the 22nd floor.

Damn, did the AC break or something?

You made it back to your office, though when you opened the door, you were unable to be relieved. Nick sat in your chair at your desk. He gave you a smile.

“Good morning,” he said.

“You’re not supposed to be in here. Get out,” you snapped. You had no patience for another tête-à-tête with him today; especially after what you just saw.

And it hit you then. You were a witness.

You eyed Nick more warily. He had one of his gold golf clubs in his hand, and he leaned on it as he stood. He set up a putter’s stance next to your desk and hit a golf ball with a gentle swing. The ball rolled into your flat shoe.

“I want to go over that report you brought upstairs,” he said.

You shook your head and went cautiously over to your desk. Your purse was inside (you were kicking yourself for not taking it with you upstairs). Nick was too close to your desk for comfort, until he moved to retrieve his golf ball. It allowed you to move farther into the room.

“Anything you want to discuss can be done via email. Right now, I’m meeting a friend for lunch,” you lied. Your gaze was off the man for maybe a few seconds while you grabbed your purse from inside the desk. Another realization hit you in that moment.

How did he know it was me who brought the report?

By the time you looked up, Nick was shutting the door to your office. He tilted his head at you with a darker edge to his smile.

“You saw something you weren’t supposed to. Didn’t you, sweetheart?” he said.

You steeled yourself with a breath. You felt inside your purse, and your hand wrapped around your taser. You pulled it out and switched it on, pointing it towards him.

“Step away from the door or I’ll fry your ass,” you threatened. It lost its effect somewhat, with the way your hand was shaking, but it was a threat, nonetheless.

Nick raised his brows at you. He still had his golf club in hand. His movements were slow as he stepped away from the door, and closer towards you.

“Sure you know how to work that thing?” he teased with a shrug of his shoulders. “If I were you, I’d take a breath. Relax a bit. Come sit on my knee.”

That last bit was teasing, despite the way he eyed you, even now with a shade of desire. The kind that claimed and stole in its taking. It made you want to spit in his face.

“You’re a bastard,” you replied. “Turns out, the bastard apple doesn’t fall far from the bastard tree.”

“Watch it,” Nick warned. You saw the dangerous edge in his blue eyes. “That’s my dad you’re talking about.”

He swung the club at your head.

You managed to duck, yelping as it crashed into a lamp instead. You tried to run for the door, but that was when Nick grabbed you by the hair and nearly yanked the hairclip right out.

A short scream escaped your lips as you grabbed for his wrist. He shoved you hard into the wall, where you lost your footing and fell. Your head cracked against the accent table that once held the lamp, and your vision blurred on the way down. Glass crackled under your arm and bit into your cheek.

A strong hand grabbed you and hefted you up. You felt a trickle of wetness rolling down the side of your face as you stared up into his. It must’ve been blood, but all you could focus on was the satisfaction in Nick’s eyes. Finally, they seemed to say.

But then he paused. Confusion was written across his face.

“Do you smell smoke?” he asked. You both saw it climbing under the door of your office.

It was a distraction that broke you out of your frozen fear.

On pure instinct, you jabbed at Nick’s ribs with your taser. His hands fell away from you and he went down like an elephant, jolting and writhing on the ground. You gasped for breath above him while you realized what you’d just done. You tilted your head down at him.

No, you weren’t done.

You grabbed his golf club with your free hand. When he tried to reach for your ankle, you jammed the heavy club into his hand until he shouted in pain. For every moment of frustration, anxiety, and fear this man had caused you, you gave it back to him with one heavy swing of that club into his stomach. (And maybe one more for good measure.)

He doubled over, groaning, coughing a bit of blood. You tossed the golf club and grabbed your purse with a shaking hand. You left him where he laid.

As soon as you open the door, however, you were pushed back by the cloud of incoming smoke. You coughed and squinted against it, but your eyes widened again when you realized what was happening.

The building was on fire.

For some reason the alarms weren’t going off, but it was clear to see what was in front of you. Smoke was clogging the halls. People were rushing out of their offices for the stairwell. You couldn’t help glancing back at Nick; he was slowly pulling himself to his feet.

Part of you knew he might not make it if you left him, but when he looked up at you, with pure hatred, your fear overrode any mercy that might’ve made you turn around.

So you fled for the stairwell behind the small crowd. There were flames making their way down along with the smoke. That was all right, because you all were running in the opposite direction.

You had to blink a drop of blood out of your eyes, and you raised a shaky hand to a cut above your brow, which was also tender to the touch. You were bleeding, clearly, but you couldn’t think about that right now. You were just trying your best not to get pushed or trampled while you hastened down several floors.

The signs pointed to Floor 10 when you felt a buzzing in your pocket. It was your phone, you realized. You were about to fish it out of your pocket, but you were forced to stop short on the stairs, along with everyone else.

The flames were coming from the floor below as well, blocking your exit.

Once again, Dean frowned while checking his phone. You still hadn’t answered his text from an hour ago. Benny came to sit beside him on the couch in the firehouse common room.

“What’s got you spacin’ out?” Benny asked, noting his friend’s mood.

“I don’t know,” Dean admitted. “But I’ve got a bad feeling, Benny.”

Benny’s brows furrowed. “Why, what’s wrong?”

Before Dean could answer, his phone rang in his hand. He perked up to answer it, until he realized it was his dad calling. He accepted the call and brought the phone to his ear.

“Hey, what’s up?” Dean greeted.

“Thanks to your girl, we know who Azazel is,” John said. “Daniel Savage. Nick is his son.”

Dean’s heart dropped into his stomach; his shock was followed swiftly by worry.

“What? How’d she find that out?”

“She called me this morning. I told her to come straight to the precinct, but she’s not here yet. That was an hour ago,” John said gravely.

Dean’s eyes widened.

And then the alarm sounded overhead. Over the intercom the dispatcher reported a working fire at a commercial building. The address was the same as your work building: Savage & Co.

“Is that you?” John asked, once the intercom message was finished.

“Yeah,” Dean said. He was already up and out of the firehouse, getting his turnout gear on with the phone pressed to his ear. His heart was hammering in his chest, but his tone was rock steady.

“If she’s still in that building, I’m gonna find her.”

Firehouses 18 and 20 had already arrived by the time Firehouse 25 got to the scene of the Savage & Co. building. The flames were sky-high, consuming from the top and the bottom. Just by looking at it, Dean thought there had to have been at least two points of origin (where the fire was started). He doubted this was an accident.

“Okay, 25,” Chief Singer said to the entire Truck 79 and Rescue Squad crew. “House 20 got here first, so Chief Sanderson’s calling the shots. He requested our help in clearing the first five floors. Their crew is already on floors 30 through 20. House 18 has the middle.”

Dean went up to Bobby and spoke just loud enough for him to hear. He filled him in on what John had just told him about Azazel, and that you were most likely somewhere in the building.

“She’s in there, Chief. I have to find her,” Dean said.

Bobby saw the desperation in the younger man’s eyes, and he sympathized. “Have you tried calling her again?”

“She’s not answering,” Dean replied. “If he found out what she knows, he could be after her. That means she could be somewhere near the top.”

“Or she’s in the middle. Or she’s already out of the building,” Bobby reasoned. He quelled Dean’s protest with a raised hand. It then fell on the younger man’s shoulder. “I understand, son. But I’ve got a protocol to follow, and so do you, Lieutenant.”

Dean’s lips pressed together. He knew his rank and his responsibility, but you were in danger. You could already be hurt, or trapped, or…

Dean rounded up Truck 79 with swift, barking orders. After donning their helmets and masks, his and Benny’s team made their way inside. The first floor was wall to wall rolling flames. The heat was nearly overwhelming, like entering the gates of hell.

There was no moving safely through the first floor, so they had to move on to the closest stairwell and try to make it up to the second. Dean held Benny back for a moment.

“I’m going up! Stick with the guys,” Dean said. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the cacophony inside the stairwell.

Benny frowned. “What’re you doin’? You heard the Chief!”

Dean shook his head. He knew he was about to defy a direct order, but he couldn’t shake the gut feeling that you were still in the building somewhere.

“I’ve gotta find her,” he said.

“You think I don’t want to find Andréa?” Benny said. “She hasn’t answered my calls either. They could be anywhere, Dean!”

Dean clasped his friend’s shoulder. “You’re making my point, man.”

And he took off up the stairs before Benny could stop him.

“Damn it, Dean!” Benny shouted after him.

“Where’s he going?” Jack asked. He and Gordon were the only ones to hang back while the rest of their crew followed their orders and searched the second floor, not realizing that their Lieutenant was no longer with them.

“To go be an idiot,” Benny growled. But he wasted no more time. He followed Dean up the stairwell.

Gordon shared a quick look with Jack before he started his own climb up the stairs.

“You can follow protocol, or you can back up the Lieutenant,” Gordon called down.

In that moment, Jack made a decision. He followed Gordon and Benny.

You had to follow the rest of the crowd after you all couldn’t make it down the rest of the stairs safely. It landed you somewhere on the 10th floor, where the group scattered. Your head was aching, your heart pounded in your ears, and you didn’t know where to go.

You fled for the stairwell on the other side of the building, and in turning a corner, you smacked right into Andréa. You gasped when you caught hold of each other.

“Oh my God!” she cried, and she grabbed you into a hug. “Are you okay? Why’re you bleeding?”

“Catch up later,” you choked out. It was so hard to breathe; you were coughing every few moments.

She looked on you worriedly and let out a cough herself. “Come on.”

She pulled you along with her by the arm. You joined a smaller group that were heading for the opposite stairwell. Unfortunately, not all of you would make it there.

A piece of the weakened ceiling crumbled and fell in a fiery heap. Andréa had been just a couple steps in front of you, and it meant you saw it before she did. You pushed her forward so she would make it across. You were forced to stop short and protect your face from the embers.

You nearly tripped and fell back, but you used the wall to steady yourself. You looked up at the sound of Andréa calling your name. You found her terrified face. There was now a wall of fire separating you from her and the rest of the group.

“Keep going!” you coughed. “I’ll find another way.”

“No, I’m not leaving you!” she called back. She pushed away the man that tried to urge her on towards the stairwell.

“Go!” you shouted, even though it raked across your throat. You forced yourself to straighten up and turn away from her. The only chance you had was if there was a way around this hallway that still led to the stairs.

Oh shit, you gasped when you turned the corner. The fire was only getting worse. The building was being consumed, and you almost couldn’t see past a few feet in front of you with all the smoke. It stung in your eyes and clogged your throat.

You stumbled along until you found a room that you could escape into. It was another restroom. The fire hadn’t yet reached inside the women’s bathroom on this floor; maybe you could wait it out like you would a tornado.

Okay, clearly I’m fucking delirious, you thought. You huddled in a corner under the sink and tried and failed to take even breaths without coughing or panicking. You pulled out your phone with shaking hands and tried once again to call Dean. The reception was absolute shit in the entire building now.

It rang, and rang, and rang. Tears slipped down your cheeks.

But despite your dismayed thoughts, he actually answered.

“Hey! Baby, are you there?!”

Your mouth fell open in shock. You clutched at the phone. “Dean!”

You coughed, and you realized smoke was rising under the bathroom door now. The fire would spread here soon enough.

“Where are you? I’m here at your building!”

“Bathroom, 10th floor!” you managed to reply. “I couldn’t get out.”

“It’s okay. I’m coming right now,” he said. “Stay put for me.”

“Yeah,” you said, with a shaky breath. You couldn’t exactly leave. “Dean, don’t hang up.”

“I won’t,” he promised. “Where’s…r—oom?”

He was glitching in and out. You gripped the phone tighter in panic. “Dean?”

“Can…ear m…”

“Dean!” Your tears fell anew. You had another reason to struggle for breath as you tried to reach him.

You slid out from under the sink to try and get better reception, but it was no use. The call failed.

“Shit!” You nearly tossed your cell across the room out of sheer frustration.

The bathroom door bursting open startled a scream out of you. Was the fire coming in?

The move did allow more smoke to infiltrate the bathroom, but instead of the fire, you saw a firefighter in all his gear. This time, it did include the helmet.

“Fire Department!” he called out.

You would know that voice anywhere. And even through the mask, you recognized the man’s eyes when he went to you.

“Dean,” you sobbed. It was halted only by a series of lung-wracking coughs and wheezing. He quickly took his helmet and mask off so he could fit the mask over your soot-covered face.

“It’s okay, deep breaths. I gotcha, baby, just breathe,” Dean encouraged. His arm was around your waist, holding you close while the oxygen finally allowed you to take in slower breaths and relax against him.

“Okay, let’s get out of here, huh?” he said. He put his helmet back on.

You grabbed the front of his jacket. “Don’t you need the mask?”

You were still having trouble breathing, coughing on every other word. Dean shook his head.

“You need it more right now,” he said.

You realized that Benny was holding the bathroom door open.

“We gotta go!” he said.

“Benny, Andréa was here,” you said. His eyes widened behind his mask. “She got out, I think. She made it to the west stairwell.”

“Okay, yeah, because no one’s getting out the east wing,” Gordon said. You noted him standing just behind Benny, with Jack in tow.

“There’s a block,” you said, pointing just ahead where you saw the pile of debris. More parts of the ceiling had crumbled around it, making it a fiery minefield. There was no other way around it at this point—only through it.

Gordon and Jack went through first, followed by Benny. With their jackets and protective gear, they were able to jump through like a flaming hoop. And they would be able to help catch you and Dean from the other side.

“Okay, you ready?” Dean asked.

“If I say no?” you said, holding onto him tighter. His hand soothed over your hair. You’d lost your clip a long time ago (along with your purse), so your hair was probably wild and frizzy and covered in soot, along with the rest of you.

Dean grinned down at you. “Then I’d say, don’t you worry. I’m not gonna let you fall.”

Even now, through your fear, he could make you smile. You steeled yourself and took a breath. You could hear it so clearly with the mask on. That, and your own heartbeat.

He counted down to three, and on the last beat, Dean covered your head and shoulders and ran with you under the flame-covered ceiling. He managed to help you jump over the fiery debris on the ground. On both of your heavy landings, a wooden support beam fell.

There was a shout from Benny, but it was too late. All Dean could do was cover you. The beam broke over his back and knocked his helmet clean off. He took you with him when he fell.

Your scream rang out—half at the fall, but mostly for Dean. It was Benny who dragged you and Dean out first. Gordon and Jack took over hefting an unconscious Dean, while Benny hauled you up onto your feet and led you to the west stairwell.

You passed out just as you felt fresh air hit the mask.

You woke to bright, fluorescent lighting that made you wince. An oxygen mask covered your mouth and nose and was strapped around your head. You made a sound of discomfort and tried to take it off, but a hand stilled yours.

“Don’t.”

Eileen’s concerned face came into view. You were confused, though happy to see her.

“You’re in the hospital,” she said. When you tried to speak, she held up a finger to you. Wait, said her eyes.

She took out her phone from her jean pocket to text someone.

“Sam is coming,” she told you, before she drew closer to sooth a hand up and down your arm. You felt tears in your eyes at just that small comfort.

They fell in earnest when Sam entered your hospital room. His eyes held the concern of a friend and a brother as he approached on your other side.

“Hey, how do you feel?” he asked, laying a hand on your shoulder.

You wheezed a breath and rasped, “Water.”

Sam nodded and grabbed you a plastic cup filled with cold water. It felt like literal heaven once the mask was off and you were able to drink. He helped you while Eileen held the mask away from your face.

After you’d had all you could drink, he took the cup and Eileen placed the mask back over your face.

“Where’s Dean?” you asked, after clearing your throat. You still sounded like a chain smoker, and your head was pounding. “Is he okay?”

“He’s stable,” Sam said, with a sigh. But when he didn’t offer anything more, you raised expectant brows at him.

“What else?” you said. Your tone told him not to skimp on any more details.

Sam’s gaze met yours. “The beam burned through his jacket, on his back. It hit his head. They…had to perform a minor surgery to relieve the pressure in his brain, but he’s stable in recovery now.”

He was quick to add on that last bit when you began to crumble. Eileen encouraged you to breathe through your tears. The oxygen could only do half the battle if you didn’t breathe properly.

“I want to see him,” you said.

Sam frowned and held up a placating hand. “I don’t think that’s—”

You ignored him and tried to sit up. With or without his approval, you were getting out of this bed.

“Okay, you’re not listening,” Sam sighed, though he immediately went to help you. He shot Eileen an imploring look over your head.

She got the hint and helped you on her side. Together they helped you stand while you removed the mask, then the heart monitor and other wires taped to your torso.

The Emergency Department team had left your pants on, thank goodness, but they’d clipped through your blouse and bra. So the paper gown was mostly to cover your top half like a light blue poncho. It was a bit airy in the back, but Eileen held it closed for you. Right now, you didn’t care much about your modesty. You were also walking around the hospital barefooted.

At least Dean was on the same floor. It was just a long walk down the hall.

“Can you call Benny and ask how Andréa’s doing?” you asked, coughing a bit.

Sam eyed you in thinly veiled concern, but he agreed. The last he’d heard from Benny was that Andréa had been cleared by the paramedics with minor smoke inhalation. You were clearly worse.

Sam held you upright when you finally saw Dean. He had to guide you into a chair beside Dean’s bed, where he slept on his side. On his back was a large stretch of white gauze across his upper back, from nearly shoulder to side at an angle.

“The doctor said they’re only second-degree burns. It looks worse than it is,” Sam said quietly.

Eileen rubbed your back in the hopes that you’d stop crying.

You could only focus on the gauze, the smaller nicks and burns around Dean’s face, the bandage and thick gauze near his temple where they’d apparently had to drill into his skull. He also wore an oxygen mask, because if all that wasn’t enough, you were sure “smoke inhalation” was on the list, thanks to the way he’d given you his SCBA mask.

Gently, very gently, you took his hand. Your thumb swept over the back of it, over each knuckle.

“Did they say when he’d wake up?” you asked. You rubbed at your aching stomach. Does smoke inhalation cause nausea too?

Your chest was also tight. You’d head back to your room sooner or later and get the oxygen mask back on.

Before Sam could reply, you heard a groan below. You looked down at Dean with wide-eyed hope. It took a moment, but his eyes slid open. They were unfocused and dark, until they found your face.

You smiled tearfully. “Hey, baby.”

Your free hand caressed his cheek. His eyes briefly closed at your touch. When he realized you were holding his hand, he squeezed a bit. That was enough for you.

Just then, however, you had to let go of his hand. Whatever was left in your stomach from this morning seemed to be revolting. You turned your head quick to throw up onto the hospital floor.

Both Sam and Eileen called your name when you slid out of your chair and onto the floor. You blinked tears out of your eyes…or actually, it was black spots encroaching on your vision.

Sam pushed the chair out of his way to get to you. He gathered you into his arms and shouted for a doctor while Eileen went for the emergency button on Dean’s hospital bed.

The last thing you saw was Dean’s worried face out of the corner of your eye, before the blackness took you.

Dean could barely speak behind his oxygen mask, but Sam saw his worry as the nurses carried you away in a stretcher with Eileen following close behind. Sam crouched in front of his brother and clasped his hand.

“She’ll be okay, I promise. I’m gonna look out for both of you,” Sam said. “Right now, you need to sleep.”

Dean’s brows furrowed. In that small gesture, Sam also saw his stubbornness. He almost smiled. You and Dean were a match made.

“Just rest, Dean. I’m going now to check on her, but not until you close your eyes,” Sam said. It took another stubborn minute, but Dean eventually relaxed as well as he was able. His eyes closed as he fell back under the pull of medication and painkillers.

“How’s he doing?” came the voice of their father in the doorway. Sam’s expression morphed from gentle to austere. His head turned towards his father.

“How does he look like he’s doing?” Sam asked. “He had a burning ceiling fall on him. He has the mother of all concussions, and he just saw his girlfriend collapse.”

John was quiet, in contrast to his youngest son’s ire. He stepped into the room and watched his eldest. Sam saw the man’s age in the lines around his eyes, in his slow gait when he raised a gentle hand to comb through Dean’s greasy hair, mindful of his injuries.

“This shouldn’t have fucking happened,” said John. His voice was tired and gruff. Sam knew what the weight of guilt looked like, but what he didn’t yet see was regret. If John hadn’t kept digging, digging, Azazel wouldn’t have taken it this far.

Okay, Sam didn’t yet have proof that Azazel burned down the Savage & Co. building…but he didn’t believe in coincidences.

“No,” Sam said. “It shouldn’t have.”

“What the fuck was that?!” Nick shouted.

He was still dusted with soot and sporting some cracked ribs from the day’s activities. He’d stumbled into his father’s house, taken a bottle of bourbon from the man’s shelf and started drinking straight from the crystal glass.

Daniel eyed him coolly from the balcony, smoking a cigar. “Whatever do you mean, son?”

Nick was furious. He stomped over, not caring how expensive liquor was splashing on him.

“Why’d you burn the whole damn building?” he demanded to know. “I could’ve died!”

“Alistair got you out, didn’t he?” Daniel pointed towards his son with the hand that held his cigar. “See, unlike you, I think ahead.”

“I’m serious,” Nick hissed. “Our company is still important—”

“My company,” Daniel interjected, “is not that building. However, the building itself was a liability.”

Nick’s brows knit together in confusion and anger. “What the hell’re you talking about?”

Daniel took a long drag of his cigar, puffing in Nick’s face. The latter coughed. As if he hadn’t had enough smoke in his lungs today.

“Don’t you see?” Daniel asked, with a sigh that also said he wondered how he could’ve produced such a moron. “It puts distance between you and ‘Azazel’ if you’re also a victim of his threats. It destroys any physical evidence of me having been there, along with any files you would’ve eventually had to turn over to the police and the FBI.”

Nick let that idea sink into his brain. He realized that it did make sense…but he deflated as something else occurred to him.

“Uh…see, that would’ve worked, but, we have a problem,” Nick scratched his head. “Someone knows who you really are.”

By the time Nick finished explaining about you, and what you’d overheard, Daniel’s sharp gaze managed to strike fear into Nick’s heart.

Yet to his surprise, the other man’s temper didn’t blow. Daniel kept it all inside as he continued to smoke. Cigars tended to pacify him better than cigarettes.

His lips twitched at a humorless smile. “Well, that is a problem.”

“But she probably died in the fire, so we’re good,” Nick shrugged.

“No, I doubt she did,” Daniel sighed. “You’re not that lucky.”

He rolled his shoulders. Then he grabbed Nick’s arm and twisted, until his was crying out and pinned to the nearest wall. Daniel threatened to put out his cigar in the soft underbelly of the arm he held.

Nick looked up at his father with wide, pleading eyes.

“Like everything else, that girl is a problem I’m going to fix,” Daniel said. “Along with the whole Winchester brood.”

AN: 🫣 Don't hate me lol. It gets better for them, I promise. But we have a few more chapters left to go and a few more twists in store!

Next Time:

The first time Dean was awake for longer than a few minutes, he asked about you.

Sam wasn’t surprised. He was frankly relieved that he had an answer for his brother.

Keep Reading: PART 17

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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#waywardxwords fic rec #Break Down the Gates #Smoke Eater #Part 16 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #firefighter AU #dean winchester AU

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countenanceblog · 2 years ago

Text

Chapter 22

Gwyneth stared blankly into a bowl of brown lentil soup. She was seated at the table in Ralph's kitchen. Tall, slender Rufus walked past her shirtless. She eyed his happy trail evilly. "Hey, 'Gronk', enjoying yourself?"

"What? Well, as a general rule, I look content, but internally there's this terrible turmoil and emotional depth," said Rufus, talking directly out of his ass.

Gwyneth smiled. And then frowned. "I need to talk to you about something. It's important. Really important."

Rufus made a strange expression. "Is it more of our juvenile tactics? We had like fifteen-odd people in here last night and all we did was chase our tails."

"No," she stated bluntly. "That's not it at all."

Rufus raised an eyebrow, not quite sure what Gwyneth was getting at. "Alright, then spill it. What's so important that it has you looking all serious?"

Gwyneth took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to express herself. "It's about us, Rufus. I mean, about you. I... I have these feelings for you, and they're not just friendly or casual. They're deeper, and I don't know how to explain it."

Rufus gave her a sidelong glance, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "Feelings, huh? You mean like indigestion or something? Too much of Ralph's cooking, maybe?"

Gwyneth rolled her eyes, frustrated with Rufus' inability to take things seriously. "No, not like that. I mean... it's like when you're around, everything else fades away. You're the person I want to talk to, to be with. You drive me insane with your sarcastic banter, but I can't help but find it endearing."

Rufus shrugged, still playing it cool. "Well, I guess I am pretty awesome. Can't blame you for falling for my charms."

Gwyneth let out an exasperated sigh. "You're impossible, Rufus. Can't you just for once be serious and talk about feelings without trying to joke your way out of it?"

Rufus crossed his arms, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Why would I do that when it's so much fun to watch you squirm?"

Gwyneth's frustration reached its peak. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. You never take anything seriously. You hide behind your sarcasm, and it's like you don't want anyone to get close to you."

Rufus' expression softened slightly, a flicker of something genuine in his eyes. "Hey, that's not true," he trailed off. "There's a human being somewhere in this hollow shell I call a 'meat suit', and recently I've finally gotten the chance to meet him. In my meat suit."

"You're so eloquent," joked Gwyneth. "Did you get to meet him because you slept with my cousin? Is that why you're being all . . . avoidant? Right now?" She stood up from her seat. She was only a few inches shorter than tall Rufus. Her dark eyes locked with his green ones. Morning light poured in through the large windows at either end of the long room.

Rufus bit his lip. "Please, don't put me in this position. She's eighteen. I feel, well, I feel obligated to be there for her. I don't think she's ever had a boyfriend, judging by – "

"Dude," Gwyneth cut in. "She's had three or four."

Rufus frowned. "Oh. By Hel, why didn't you just tell me you had feelings for me? I've made moves on you! Just a week ago I tried grabbing your ass, and you slapped me!" Gwyneth chuckled a little. She spoke firmly.

"Yeah, I did. That made me like you. You're an idiot. You're not supposed to grab a woman's ass, ever. Not like that, with both hands, and . . . jeez."

"Man alive," intoned Rufus. "Harsh. What do you want me to do? Break up with Maggie? We haven't even – "

"Yes," snapped an unthinking Gwyneth.

Just then, Timothy Rockland emerged from his cave wearing only his boxers and a t-shirt. "This is why Xander hates you, Rufus, isn't that funny? Just because you've got girls crawling on you." Rufus inhaled.

Gwyneth raised an eyebrow sharply. She looked directly into Timothy's penetrating eyes. "Plural? Who are the others? How many are there?" Rufus' head sank low.

"He stole those two freshmen girls off my brother. For a while, anyway," said Timothy without an ounce of regret.

"By Hel, Bailey and Sasha?! What did you do to them?," Gwyneth demanded, pounding her fists on Rufus' nearly hairless chest. "What did you do? You fuck . . . "

Rufus grabbed her wrists in his hands. "I'm sorry, okay? If you gotta know, I made out with them. That's all. I swear. You realize the timing of this couldn't be worse, right?" Gwyneth was beginning to look deadly.

"Why's that?," Timothy asked the both of them.

"Look at the news, Timmy," said Rufus. "Go and look at the news. Turn on your computer." Gwyneth slipped free of his grip and stormed out of the kitchen huffing. "Fuck, Timmy. Was that really necessary?"

"I just tell the truth," said Timothy.

Rufus grunted. "Yeah, look where that gets us."

"You mean look where it gets you, Rufus. Look where your bad decisions get you, man. It's a good thing you don't have any other secrets to hide."

Rufus changed gears visibly. "Can I have one of your chicken and noodle things? I'll buy you two to make up for it. I swear." Rufus nodded as if in agreement to his own proposition. Timothy just shrugged.

"Three," was what he had to say. He handed Rufus one of his eastern-styles microwavable dinners. "Tomorrow."

"Man," said Rufus. "You're really adult for a high school kid. No nonsense, huh?" Aleister Fawkes walked into the room. His sunglasses were definitely on.

"You should put some hoisin sauce on that," said Aleister to Rufus. "Why aren't the cops here?"

Timothy laughed. "Why would they be here? For Xander again?" Aleister tapped on the countertop.

"Yeah, he was yelling all night," said Aleister.

Rufus smiled widely. "You're lucky he didn't wake you up, Timmy." Timothy waved his hand at the two of them.

"You guys are nuts, I'm gonna go read the news."

Rufus and Aleister watched Timothy leave the kitchen, and Rufus shook his head in amusement. "Timmy, the little truth-bomb dropper. I gotta admit, he's got a point though. My life does tend to be a series of bad decisions, one after another."

Aleister leaned against the counter, his cool demeanor never faltering. "You're not wrong there. But hey, we all make mistakes. The key is learning from them and trying to do better next time."

Rufus smirked, watching the bright-lit chicken noodle meal rotate. "I don't know if I'm capable of learning, Aleister. I'm just here for a good time, not a long time."

Aleister chuckled softly. "That's one way to look at it, I suppose. But deep down, I think you're more than just the sarcastic facade you put up. There's something more to you, Rufus."

Rufus glanced at Aleister, raising an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? And what's that?"

Aleister grinned, his eyes glinting behind his sunglasses. "You have a heart, Rufus. You care about your friends, even if you show it in your own unique way. And when it comes down to it, you're fiercely loyal."

Rufus scoffed, trying to downplay Aleister's observation. "Yeah, yeah, don't you go getting all sentimental on me now. We've got enough drama to deal with without you analyzing my personality."

Aleister chuckled again, undeterred by Rufus' attempts to deflect. "You know, you and Gwyneth have more in common than you realize. Both of you put up walls to keep people out, but deep down, you both yearn for connection and understanding."

Rufus shot Aleister a sideways glance, not entirely comfortable with the direction of the conversation. "Look, I appreciate the psychoanalysis, Dr. Cool, but can we talk about something else now?"

Aleister shrugged nonchalantly. "Sure thing, Rufus. Let's talk about the controversial Doge of Spain City, Bartholomew Villareal. I heard Timothy's a supporter."

Rufus rolled his eyes, grateful for the change of topic. "Ugh, that guy. Villareal is a walking disaster. He's all about promoting himself and his ego, but he doesn't care about the people he's supposed to be leading."

Aleister nodded in agreement. "I can see why you feel that way. He does seem to be more interested in power and control than actually making a positive impact."

Rufus leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. "Exactly. I mean, I don't care much for politics, but even I can see through his facade. It's all about the image, not about serving the community."

Just then, Gwyneth returned to the kitchen, her expression slightly softened. She looked at Rufus and Aleister with her dark, intense eyes, feeling a mix of frustration and affection for the two of them. "Discussing politics again? I thought you were apolitical, Rufus."

"That's what makes me so political," quipped Gage. The garage doorbell rang. Aleister perked up.

"I'll get it," he told his friends. Aleister walked over to the door while Gwyneth and Rufus had a hushed exchange. When the door opened, redheaded Sasha and blonde Bailey were standing on the other side. Visibly they were scared. "What's up, ladies?"

"The lockdown is over," said Bailey.

Sasha piped up. "Do you guys know what's going on?"

#countenance

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