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phantomamour · 9 months ago

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𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐢𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

vampire hunter!billy the kid x fem vampire!reader

cw// vampires, blood, injury, gunshots, temporary character death, small hint of feeding, implications of sex/smut, some heavy angst at parts, does not follow any timeline from the show as it is an au set in a loosely based universe of vampires/vampire hunters, it's a VERY long fic but it's my magnum opus and i will never write anything better than this, some lore around vampires involved but explained

Being dead, or rather undead, was a strange existence. Your heart remained a now meaningless vessel in your chest. Never to beat again as you were forced to walk the earth for eternity. More than most losses you endured when you were turned, you missed the feeling of the sun beaming down on you for hours on end. You knew your skin was far too friable for more than an hour in the sun, a downside of your new state of being that left you living in the shadows, always trailing, never taking the lead. Five years ago, you had been changed down to your very soul, and months after that, you ended up in Lincoln County, chasing a dream that would only cause you pain.

From the moment you stepped into Lincoln, you could recognize the mass number of vampires roaming the street. It was a problem the sheriff worked hard to deal with his army of hunters, a band of outlaws who turned in the bodies of vampires for another day of freedom from a jail cell. Billy was a hunter. You knew that years ago, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave Lincoln and, consequently, him. There wasn’t a night that went by without you seeing him, standing by in the shadows and making sure he never got in enough trouble to meet a fate as terrible as yours. Tonight was no different. Having watched him leave the bar to retire to his room, you chose to roam the streets aimlessly, eyes on each hunter you managed to pass by secretly.

Vampires knew they were hunted. They’d watched the bodies burn in the streets as people cowered in fear, never certain that the silver of their bullets would finish the job until the bodies were no more than ash. You’d known the signs of a silver bullet all too well now. Friends were a hard thing to keep in a town like Lincoln; the renowned hunters were known to kill their prey and go back for their bodies when it was convenient for them. That left you to find one too many friends dead in the street, purple veins creeping out from the wound and eyes a cloudy white. To help with the vampire’s dilemma, it had become common knowledge to signal to one another when a hunter was close. It was this signal that had you rushing through alleys to get away from a hunter who had caught sight of it.

If you still had a beating heart, you’re sure there would be a pain in your chest only matched by when you had been turned. You could die right here if you weren’t fast enough. Every new step you took felt heavier than the last as if each was destined to land you right in the hunter’s grasp. The alleys between the buildings got narrower as you reached the heart of the town, giving you less room for a swift escape. Your shoe stuck against a rock was the last thing to sign what you assumed was your ticket to the burning pile for the night as a calloused hand grabbed your own and pulled you flush to the stone wall. Suddenly, his weight was against you, holding you in place with his forearm beneath your jaw to keep it closed and stop you from biting him. But, as quickly as you had been caught, your world came crashing down as your eyes met two blue ones.

It was Billy. Your Billy. The Billy you thought was sound asleep in the boarding house. Your chest heaved against his while you both were frozen in place, and his eyes darted across your face. It was like he was checking each feature of your face to ensure he hadn’t imagined you, that it wasn’t some spell he was under that made him see you against him instead of the vampire he had thought was in his hold.

“A-angel?” his voice was quiet, hesitant even, as his grip loosened just enough. You knew that if he had seen the newest feature hidden beneath your lips, he wouldn’t be so careless as to let you free even a bit. But you took his ignorance to your advantage when you ducked your head down and ran as fast as you could, pushing your body to take you toward the woods. He wasn’t supposed to see you. You had managed to make it plenty of years without him catching even a glimpse of you, and yet he had just stared you directly in the eyes and spoken the nickname you’d dreamed he’d call you again ever since the day he left. Tears stung your eyes as you ran, desperately trying to put distance between the two of you when you heard him curse and run after you.

“Fuck- stop, darling! Hold on!” You didn’t want to die by his hands; that had been your greatest fear. There was a cruel reality you were faced with the first night you saw him again after you had been turned. His whole life, every ounce of freedom he had, became centered around the death of what was now your own kind. That was one of many reasons you had to choose to stay away. You wished you could be farther away now as leaves crunched beneath your rapid feet. You could hear him getting closer, and no matter how hard you willed yourself to speed up, it was a fruitless battle. When you felt his fingers graze your wrist, you had accepted the fate you were about to face.

The force on your body from his hand gripping your wrist brought you both tumbling to the forest floor, him landing firmly on top of you, chest to chest again. He could feel every gasp of breath you had to take, but he noticed one thing was clearly missing. His heart was the only one beating between you, and it startled him more than he cared to admit. He could see the pure fear in your eyes, breaking his heart. The girl he had left five years ago was scared of him now, and he didn’t know what he’d done to scare you so severely until his eyes fell to your parted lips and what lay behind them. Fangs. Pointed and threatening, but not to him. You know you wouldn’t be able to bite him to get away; you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you did that.

“Billy… get off me,” your voice shook as you fought to keep the tears pricking the corners of your eyes in. You wouldn’t die crying.

“You’re… Angel, you… When?” he sounded as heartbroken as you were sure you looked.

“Billy, just let me go. You don’t have to kill me. I’ll go. You’ll never see me again. I promise,” you tried to reason with him, trembling beneath him.

“What? No. I wouldn’t… I would never. You’re a-”

“I know. You don’t have to say it. I know.” There was a moment of silence between the two of you, the tension causing you to swallow roughly while you closed your mouth to hide the fangs you knew he was still looking at. He had realized his hand by your hip was rubbing against the small bit of exposed skin with his thumb soothingly. While his heart slowed down against your chest, your breaths started to even out. Even after all the time apart, something as simple as his skin against yours could settle your strongest nerves.

He sat up slowly, hesitating because he didn’t want you to feel trapped beneath him, but he didn’t want you to run. His hand trembled at his side as it itched to reach out and hold you close still, but he refused to scare you away, unable to erase the memory of your fear that was a consequence of him. You pushed yourself up even slower as you watched him closely, unsure if all of this was an act. While you had always been close by, you were never near enough to know how much he had changed from the boy you knew five years ago.

“How long have you been a…” his voice trailed off, confident that he didn’t yet have the strength to say the word hanging over both of your heads, “When were you turned?” He settled on that question instead.

“It doesn’t matter. You don’t need to know.” He frowned at that, unable to decide if your refusal was because of your fear for your own life or not. Another long moment of silence stretched between you two, and he desperately wished he could go back five years and make the two of you the same people you used to be. He knew he had changed. So many years of hunting vampires did that to a person regardless of who they started as, and now, to his greatest horror, you were the very thing he had to hunt for his own freedom.

“How long have you been hunting?” you were nearly silent with your question. In reality, you knew the answer. It hadn’t been long after he had to go on the run that you’d found him in Lincoln. He didn’t need to know that, however.

“Five years.”

“That’s a lot of vampires, Billy.”

“And I’d still never kill you,” he reassured you firmly, more confident in those words than anything else in the world. He couldn’t help the image that flashed in his mind now. Your body limp in his arms, silver turning your veins a sickening dark purple and eyes clouding over as he begged you not to go. He’d lost you once before; he was determined to make you feel safe with him to stay again.

“I have a cabin not too far from here. Maybe you could… Would you stay with me for a day or two? I haven’t seen you in so long. It’s a safe place. No other hunters know where it is,” he pleaded, needing you not to run away like he had all that time ago.

“You don’t stay in town?” it was a question more to cover your own story you knew he may ask about. You’d have to come up with a story, something plausible, about why you were in Lincoln and how you two never crossed paths before then. Knowing Billy as well as you hoped you still did, he wouldn’t be able to handle the fact you’d be so close to him for five years.

“Most nights, but the bed at the cabin’s more comfortable than the boarding house anyways.”

“Billy, I don’t know if-”

“Please… Angel, please.” Your lungs constricted at the nickname slipping past his lips yet again.

“Pretty sure that name doesn’t work on damned souls.” You had grown up surrounded by the warnings of the souls that no grace or cleansing would be able to save. You never imagined you’d be one of them, however.

“You’ll always be my angel.”

You had begrudgingly taken him up on his offer to stay in the cabin. Every part of you screamed that it was a bad idea; you had managed to stay out of trouble by keeping your distance, but sleeping in the same room every night may be the final nail in your last coffin. He had promised you safety while utterly unaware that you were the one ensuring his own for years. However, the cabin felt safe in a way you don’t think you could remember in your distant past. It was small but by no means cramped. A full-size bed had been squeezed into the corner where you lay every night despite your insistence that Billy takes it instead. He resigned himself to the small couch across the room in front of the fireplace, and you swore that every moment apart tugged on your chest like a string trying to bring you back to him. You knew you’d have to cut that string one day to save you both.

Whenever he left to hunt, he asked you if you’d be there when he returned, and while you tried to tell yourself to go, you always reassured him you would be right there. You waited a few minutes every time before following after him; only once you knew he had no intentions of turning back. It became a routine unknown to your hunter, always straying just far enough behind not to be caught in action but close enough to know he was okay. You returned to the cabin before he could every afternoon and waited for him to come through the door with a small smile.

“Everything okay while I was gone?” He always asked when he came in as he set down his things and prepared for your favorite part of the new routine. Sunset was the one time you could truly enjoy the last moments of the sun before it disappeared beneath the ground. Setting just fast enough not to worry about burning as you walked with him. It was a comfort you knew many years ago but felt almost foreign now. You still welcomed it back with open arms as your hands brushed with each bump of his shoulder against yours. As it happened, a blush brightened both his cheeks, and your chest tightened. He’d tell you about the places he’d been to over the years, ones he unknowingly had taken you to as you followed him through the state, always ending up back in Lincoln.

He always left out specific details; you noticed that immediately. He spoke of each trip as a vacation, not one mention of vampires or the true meaning of the excursions. You were certain he did this on purpose; it was more comforting to imagine the both of you as any two “normal” people. His eyes no longer stuck on the sight of your fangs, and you did your best to ignore the silver bullets that peaked out of the barrel of his gun before he left in the mornings.

“You comin’?” Your head snapped up to the sound of his voice. Seeing him standing with his feet in the river in front of you made you feel uneasy as you realized your predicament. He hadn’t tried to cross the river with you before on your walks; he would have been as unsuccessful then as he was now.

“I can’t… Running water.” His eyebrows furrowed at your explanation as you pointed to the water moving around his feet, clearly unaware of the dilemma you faced at that moment. Vampires were damned souls, unable to be cleansed – unable to be saved. Running water was a way to cleanse the soul your mother had taught you. Walking through that water would only cause you pain for your disgraceful existence. Billy walked back over to you, stepping out of the river as he brushed your hair back, worried by the frown you couldn’t quite force away.

“What’s going on?” he spoke so softly you were sure it would have been carried out into the breeze before you could hear it if you hadn’t listened so closely.

“I can’t cross or step into the river. The running water can’t cleanse my soul. Nothing can,” you whispered, scared to remind him of the differences now starkly present between you two.

“Oh.” It was one small sound but it tore through your chest all the same. Was it embarrassment coursing through your system? You couldn’t be sure because as quickly as he had stuck a knife in your heart, he removed it by placing your hand in yours and taking you away from the river.

“Then let’s walk over to the north. The trees get way taller over there.” There he was. The Billy that always knew the right thing to say.

“Do you need to feed?” Billy asked one night after your sunset walk, “I can… Well… I don’t know how to help other than offer myself honestly. But I would if you need to. I haven’t seen you feed since you’ve been here.” You had been feeding here and there, whatever person was willing, while you followed Billy along during the day. Few people in Lincoln would let a vampire feed from them without putting up a fight, but those who did were highly trusted amongst the vampires in town. The sheriff may have wanted your kind eradicated, but when someone had a vampire’s trust, they were protected until a silver bullet stopped it. Billy had your trust, even if you wanted to say it was foolish to give him, considering his current occupation.

“I won’t feed from you.”

“Why not?” Because you’re my favorite person in this world. Because you’re my best friend. Because I love you. Because the thought of tainting your skin with the scars of who I’ve become makes me sick. All reasons you couldn’t bring yourself to voice. You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out as he moves closer, your chests nearly touching when you swallow roughly. If your heart still beat, it’d be racing in your chest.

“Do you know how much I missed you those five years apart? Do you know how much I thought about you?” his voice was barely above a whisper, and you willed yourself to feel trapped, but you had no reason to either. He wasn’t holding you in place. He wasn’t blocking your exits. He gave you every chance to run, but your feet kept you planted in front of him. You shook your head in response to his questions.

“I should have gone back for you.”

“Don’t say that.” It hurt too much to hear. He wouldn’t been fast enough. He wouldn’t have gotten back fast enough to stop what you knew was inevitable now.

“I should have, angel.” There was that damn nickname again. The same nickname that made you fall in love with him as kids. The same nickname he called you moments before he kissed you the night before he left to run from the law. The same nickname that you wished you would hear as you lay in the dirt dying after a vampire attacked you in the street.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” your voice shook as you spoke, unsure when the distance between the two of you closed so much. You could feel his breath against your cheek as his hand came up to brush your hair back and cup your jaw.

“For how long? If I feed you, how long will you stay?”

“Billy.”

“Tell me. How long do I have you?” Forever. You could stay forever. You could live a hundred lives with the man before you and it would never be enough. You shudder at the feeling of his thumb rubbing up to your cheekbone. It still felt foreign after a week of late nights talking and subtle touches, touches that left you yearning for a life that was no longer yours. His other hand slipped down your side to rest on your hip, thumb rubbing the small skin he revealed beneath the hem of your shirt again before pulling you flush to his chest.

“If you feed from me, will you stay another night?” he sounded hesitant, maybe even desperate in a way. He prayed that you still felt the same way you had before he left, remembering the devastation in your eyes when he walked away from you before. He wasn’t making that mistake again.

“You don’t have to feed me.”

“But if I do…”

“I shouldn’t stay.” It hurt you to say as much as you were sure it hurt him to hear.

“But you could. I’ll keep you safe. Make sure no hunters find you. I’ll protect you ‘til the day I die.” You thought about the day he’d inevitably die far too often. Even if you managed to protect him until he was grey, you’d still outlive him. You’d still have to watch the man you loved turn to food for the soil.

“I’m not worried about myself, Billy.” You knew the dangers that being a hunter had to begin with. But a hunter who was protecting a vampire was a death sentence to him. You couldn’t imagine what the sheriff would do if he found out. You’d be killed, likely hunted, with the reward of a truly free life. Billy would be sent to a jail cell to rot or the noose. There was no happy ending for the two of you; you knew that more than anyone else.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of his thumb running across your lips, causing you to part them on instinct. Your lips were paler than they used to be, he thought. He had a brief wondering of what they looked like when you fed. He knew vampires were often more messy with eating, if you could call it that at all instead of feeding, than humans. The image flashed in his mind of your lips covered in blood, not your own, but the blood of whatever your prey ended up being. That’s the image that had him slipping his thumb into your mouth to trace over one of your fangs.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the taste of him against your tongue. Then, for reasons you’re unsure you could wrap your head around, he pushed his thumb down on your fang. You heard him hiss so quietly at the puncture of his own skin first, then, a moment later, the taste of his blood hit your tongue, and your eyes rolled back. You knew it was supposed to taste no better than metal, but it was the sweetest flavor you’ve ever had. Trying to stay still and stop yourself from taking something you couldn’t give back, you stood in his hold.

“You don’t need to worry about me, angel. Let me care for you.” He moved his thumb past your fangs to let you suck on it gently. Your body melted into him. You weren’t just connected by a string on your chest; you were his. Leaning into you, he brushed your hair off your neck with his free hand before his fingers danced along the two small scars in the crook of your neck.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, startling you as your eyes opened to look up at him, thumb still resting between your lips as the blood leaking into your mouth slowed to a stop. Your eyes never once left his face while he pushed your bottom lip down, blood trailing behind his thumb as he drew it from your mouth. He couldn’t think straight at the sight of your lips red with his blood. He would gladly make himself your prey, but now he moved before his mind could voice that, cupping your face as he leaned down to press his lips to yours.

It was familiar. It was home. You were five years younger at that moment, a girl kissing the love of her life in the dark of the night. You’d love him until a silver bullet took you to the flame; you’d love him still as you became nothing but ash. He kissed you with a fervor that took the air, the only life source you had left, right from you as he took small steps toward the wall.

“Should have gone back for you,” he mumbled against your lips as he pressed you into the wall, “I regretted not turning back every day. Still regret it now that I’ve got you back.” Every word echoed in your mind. He thought of you, and even if it wasn’t as much as you thought of him, that was more than enough.

“This won’t work, Billy. We both know that,” you murmured, but you were sure the meaning behind your words was lost with every new movement of your lips against his. You were drowning in him, pressed impossibly close as you kissed him like it could bring you back to life.

“I’ll make it work. I should have made it work years ago,” his voice was low by your ear as he pressed kisses along your jaw, “I won’t make that same mistake again.” You knew you should run. You were playing with fire, but he was still the boy who kissed you all those years ago. You could tell he’s had practice by the way he kissed you. His looks weren’t ignored by the girls of Lincoln, having watched the few times he took one of them back to the boarding house before. You found yourself grateful for that as he ran his tongue along the tips of your fangs, not cutting his tongue but taunting you silently while your knees threatened to buckle.

Your hands tangled into the hair at the back of his neck as you tried to bring him even closer, albeit unsuccessfully. You’d remember this feeling for centuries to come. Billy- Your Billy pressed against you and kissing you like it would kill him not to. This was what you wanted to remember whenever you’d meet your demise.

Life became surprisingly domestic over the following weeks for you and your hunter, despite the voice in your head that told you to run more and more with every day. Sunset walks turned into regularly making out by the river, and Billy never once tried to make you cross it again. You sat at the river bank as he told you how much he missed you and held you closer than you think he ever had before. His hands felt so big against the small of your back as you straddled him, making sure not to touch the water, and it wasn’t until a small chill set in the air that you forced him to turn back to the cabin to light a fire for the night.

You didn’t eat like he did, needing blood more than anything else, but that didn’t stop him from throwing a few quick, flirty glances toward the baker’s daughter for a free pastry or two. You rolled your eyes fondly when he’d set the small bag down on the kitchen table and tell you he brought you home something to eat.

“Unless there’s blood in that bag, you really didn’t have to go out of your way.”

“You may not need to eat like I do, but that doesn’t change the fact that you still deserve a sweet bite occasionally.” You knew what he did to get the pastry that tasted like pure sugar on your tongue, but rather than being upset, it was endearing to you. You knew by every single one of his actions that he had no intention of entertaining anyone else with his love, but he was still willing to play the handsome hunter and provide you with any kind of luxury. He shocked you more when he brought home a small pillar candle.

“It’s bayberry,” he explained as you watched him light it once you two prepared to call it a night. You knew that bayberry candles were a hard commodity, one of the finest simple luxuries in the country with a sweet smell that reminded you of home. But you weren’t sure why it mattered enough to spend what little money he had to spare.

“It reminds me of that perfume you stole from your mother when we were kids. I try to keep one around all the time but haven’t been back to the cabin recently before you.” Oh. The little things he did made you understand that perhaps he had really thought of you when you two were apart.

“First time I smelled one… It was like you were with me again. I wasn’t so lonely when it was all I could smell.” Oh. It was these moments that made him leaving every morning harder. Watching him put on his belt and hat, silver bullets tucked safely into his gun on his hip, before he pressed a kiss to your forehead and told you he’d be back. It was always the same heart-wrenching feeling that you followed him into town with. You knew there was a price on his head that could only be lessened with each body he turned in, and yet, you wanted him to stop. You wanted him to put down his gun and live a life with you. It wasn’t logical and far from realistic, but you swore you’d kill the sheriff if that’s what needed to happen to fix his fate.

The argument was coming, as sure as the sun rising in the morning. You had known the dam would break open, no longer able to hold back your feelings about the situation, and you’d both be left to pick up the pieces.

“What happens when someone follows you home? When a hunter comes here and kills me, Billy?” you tried desperately to get him to stay at the cabin, eyes pleading as you held on tight to his wrist. He knew you meant well, that you just wanted him there with you and out of potential trouble, but the fact you had questioned the safety he offered you at the cabin had hurt.

“What happens when I don’t meet the sheriff’s quota, and he locks me up?” he tried to reason with you. He didn’t have a choice. This was the life he had to live to get any chance at being with you. He would kill every other vampire on this Earth for one more day with you, and turning them into the sheriff was his payment. He never considered what would happen when he’d eradicated all the vampires except for you, but he was confident he’d still do whatever it took to keep you by his side.

“I wouldn’t be able to protect you from a jail cell, angel.”

“But I’ve protected you this whole time! For five years, I’ve protected you! Not the other way around. I’m still protecting you now!” It came pouring past your lips before you could stop it. All your cards laid out as he took a step back, hurt flashing in his eyes as he absorbed the meaning behind your words.

“...what?” his voice was nearly silent, tearing you in two.

“I meant-”

“Five years? You’ve… this whole time? …five years.” You could hear him processing the information as his voice wavered. You had hurt him more in this moment than ever before, and you couldn’t take it back.

“Billy-”

“When were you turned?” That piece of information was one you were far less willing to give over. It was the final nail in his coffin, and you knew it. It would kill him to know.

“Billy, I told you-” you tried to shake your head.

“No. Tell me the truth.” He stood taller, trying to pry the information out of you. While he would have looked menacing to anyone else, you could see the pain in every limb and crevice of his being. You wanted to beg him not to ask, not to open up the wounds that still lay deep under your skin. Your wounds would only cause him to bleed as well.

“Billy… you- I can’t…” He stared you down, desperate for answers that you knew he wouldn’t want once he knew them. This wasn’t something he would forget, just like you couldn’t forget.

“You used to walk me home every night… then you left.” It wasn’t clicking in his head; you could see the confusion in his eyes.

“How… when?”

“Billy-”

“Tell. Me.” He got more stern, his walls coming up as he felt more and more uneasy. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you finally gave in.

“You’d left that morning, and I… I walked home alone that night. A vampire saw me and… I couldn’t fight them off. I wish I had just died, Billy. I didn’t want to become this. I’m so sorry,” you admitted, watching his face fall even more as his knees started to give out. He clutched the chair next to him before sinking into it unsteadily, trembling with a quiet “oh my god” and resting his head in his hands to fight back tears. He hadn’t even been gone 24 hours before you were turned. He had abandoned you, left you behind the morning after finally kissing you, and you had been turned before the dust even settled that he had kicked up with his departure.

“When did you come to Lincoln?” Another question you desperately didn’t want to answer, but you figured the worst was already out there.

“My parents kicked me out a month after I turned.” His eyes snapped up to you as he put everything together, his tone turning from devastated to angry in just a moment.

“So you’ve known where I was for five years? You saw me for five years and never once approached me?” Each word was laced with venom, an anger you never had directed at you before but one you knew you had earned.

“I protected you for five years, Billy. The vampires you hunt could kill you if you aren’t safe.” That made him stand.

“And the hunters who go out with me could kill you! The same hunters that you’re worried about following me home! Why the hell would you stay if you didn’t want me?”

“Didn’t want you? Billy, I stayed because I wanted you! Because I’d rather be forced to watch you grow old than have you die in my arms now! Or worse, be turned! You don’t want this life I have now!” you shouted, needing him to understand that it wasn’t a choice you made easily. You had suffered through five years of wanting him more than anything in the world, and it was that reason alone that you couldn’t abandon him even after he had done that to you. You watched with a broken heart as he kissed girls who weren’t you, fingers ghosting your own lips and remembering the feeling of his kiss before he left. Staying was the hardest decision you’d ever made, and Billy didn’t seem to understand it.

“You should have told me. You should have gone up to me.”

“Don’t you think I thought about that? I tried, Billy. I tried to and it was a mistake to run into that night when you caught me. I was careless.” You swear his eye may have twitched at that admission. He had spent weeks thinking that life had finally given him a bone after so long by bringing you back into his life, undead or not. Yet, you had thought it was a mistake.

“You should have tried harder. You were selfish to put us through this,” he hissed, hands balled up at his side as he tried not to raise his voice anymore.

“I was protecting myself. I was protecting myself from the fact that you spend every day trying to kill my kind, whether it's the kind I want to be or not. I was protecting myself from my feelings for you and failed. Because the second you held me in that alley, I was fucked. I didn’t want to remember your touch because it makes knowing what will happen eventually so much worse,” your voice was breaking, and Billy’s heart was already shattered with each new word you spoke, “Do you know how badly I wanted to see you after everything? I had been turned the same day you left, and a month later, my family kicked me out. All I wanted was you. All I wanted was my best friend. I didn’t even care that I loved you more than I’ll ever know what to do with. But the first thing I saw was how you’d moved on, laughing and playing poker while girls flirted with you.”

“And I’d have rather been with you!” he shouted, desperate to get you to understand that you had seen it all wrong. He hadn’t moved on. He drank and distracted himself, but he never moved on.

“Oh please, Billy, don’t lie to me! I wasn’t enough to stay for back then, and I’m even less now.” He flinched back as if you had hit him. Perhaps you had, in a way. He had wanted to stay with you, but he couldn’t find a way for it to work. From the moment he left that day, he knew it was the wrong choice, but the alternative would only drag you down with him. However, his attempts to save you had only made everything worse. He moved to grab his hat from the table before you could stop him.

“Are you kidding me? You’re still leaving?” you were exasperated, emotionally spent, and heartbroken all in one. Billy turned back to you from the door and looked just as hurt.

“I need to think, and I- I know you don’t want me hunting, but if I don’t bring a body to the sheriff, I get thrown in jail. It’s not a perfect life, but it’s as close to a free one as I get right now without being on the run.” You didn’t get a chance to respond before he closed the door behind him. You stood frozen for what felt like years before your knees buckled, and you fell to the floor in silent sobs. He had left again; you couldn’t blame him this time. You didn’t follow him to town. You couldn’t move from your spot on the floor as each sob racked your body in a nearly painful way. The cabin grew deathly silent, and you sat there long after you had run out of tears. You only looked up from the floor when you heard a horse approaching, and a glimmer of hope swelled in your chest that Billy would forgive you.

It was quiet when Billy came back. A part of him feared he would return to the cabin empty, you having run into the night after everything came crashing down around you both. You had always been close by, but he never knew. He was so alone all that time, and you were… you were alone too. The thought crossed his mind. Staying away couldn’t have felt great; he knows he wouldn’t have been able to do it. He would have caved within the first week- the first day- hell, the first hour. Regardless of whether he agreed with your decision, he could acknowledge it wasn’t one you made easily.

He was taken out of his thoughts at the sight of hoof prints in the dirt below him, ones that he knew didn’t belong to him. No one ever rode out here; it was too deep in the woods. The only thing around for miles outside the town was the cabin.

The cabin.

The cabin he’d left you in… without a horse.

His heart clenched in his chest as he urged his horse to move faster, pleading to the same gods that damned you to have mercy on you this one time. He’d run. He’d rather be on the run for the rest of his life than lose you again. Suddenly, the quiet was far from comforting. It was suffocating and as lonely as he remembered it was months ago. He called out your name when he could see the cabin in the distance, but there was no response, his voice echoing back at him as his chest hurt in a way it hadn’t since his mother passed. Please let her be safe. Please let her have protected herself. Please don’t take her away from me again.

He skirted his horse to a stop when he got close enough to take in the sight awaiting him on the porch. Your body limp across the steps and unmoving, any life, damned or not, draining out of you as he jumped down. No. No, no, no. Your eyes were open; he could tell that much as he knelt next to you, only a small breath of relief in his lungs when you blinked up at him with a quiet whimper.

“Billy…” your voice broke off as you choked on the pain radiating through your chest.

“‘m here. ‘s okay, angel. C’mere, I’ve got you.” You cried out when he moved you from the steps to his lap, and his heart shattered for the second to last time as he noticed the dark purple dancing up your skin from under your shirt. Silver… let it be a mistake. Let me wake up and try again. I’ll do better next time, I promise. He felt helpless as you tried to cling to him weakly, trembling with each tear that stained your cheeks. He couldn’t stop himself from staring for a minute as he memorized your face one more time. Your eyes, your cheekbones, your eyelashes, your lips… He never wanted to forget a single detail.

“What happened?” his voice broke the same as his heart, and even your trembling started to die with the rest of you.

“A- a hunter… He said- said he followed y-you.” There was nothing you could have said that would hurt him more, but he knew it wasn’t your intention. You were right. You had been right. Someone had followed him and killed you. He couldn’t yet decide if getting to hold you for your last moments was a blessing or a curse. He leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead, tears falling against his will as you melted further into him, the pain finally leaving. You’d get to pass in peace.

He remembered his mother’s death. The dead of the night took her as he held onto her. This was entirely different, but her voice still echoed in his mind.

Water will cleanse your soul and provide you safe passage, my boy. We’ll all meet again in the next life.

The river. You couldn’t cross before, but surely, as you got closer to the end, whatever gods could see you two now would forgive you. He may not have believed in them before, but he’d pray to whatever god would listen to give you more time in this life or the next.

“Angel, I’ve gotta pick you up, okay?” he spoke softly, hoping he wouldn’t cause you more pain after it finally subsided. He felt sick as you didn’t fight him on it. You weren’t gone; he could see the silver making its way further down your arms and up your neck, however. Every step felt daunting, one step closer to death.

“I know, sweet girl. My angel baby. ‘m here. You’re gonna be safe,” his voice wavered more with each word, trying to soothe both of you as he felt you grow weaker in his arms, “I’ll make sure you get to see my ma. She’ll take care of you.” You could only let out small whimpers in response, wanting to tell him it was useless. You were never going to see a peaceful afterlife. The end would be nothing but an endless void.

You heard the river as you two got closer. You knew what he wanted to do, and you were too weak to fight the hope he had deep in his bones. He couldn’t save you from this; he couldn’t save you five years ago. But as you slipped further from him, you wanted to hope too. You bristled at the feeling of water against your back as he kneeled in the river. It didn’t hurt, but it surely wasn’t comfortable. Yet, as he squeezed his arms around you tighter, like he could save you if he just held you close enough, all you felt was him. All you felt was the boy you’d loved for longer than you could remember. It was just your Billy one last time.

“I’ll stay right here, angel. I’ll stay here with you as long as it takes to know that when I die, you’ll be waiting for me.” He brushed your hair from your face, hands wet from the water around you two as you hiccuped on the air you still tried to draw into your chest.

“I- Billy-” you tried harder than ever to get words out as your body started to go. Your heart, beating or not, didn’t want to leave him. You didn’t want to leave him.

“You… you made me feel a-alive again.” He couldn’t hold his tears back any longer, however fruitless his previous attempts had been. Letting out a gut-wrenching sob as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“You made me feel like I wasn’t alone anymore,” he admitted brokenly. His heart shattered as your body started to still; you were leaving him. He couldn’t stop it, and every fiber of his being begged whoever could listen to take him too. Let me go with her. Let me keep her safe in this next part. Please. I’ll do anything.

Then it all stopped.

You were a dead weight in his arms. Your eyes glassed over. You weren’t breathing.

No. No, no, no, no. Please. Anything. I’ll do anything for her. Just let me have her back.

His heart screamed with each sob, holding you so close he was worried for a brief moment he was hurting you. Kissing your forehead, he rocked you gently, begging you to come back, to breathe again. He wouldn’t survive a life knowing he’d never see you again. Everything flashed in his tear-filled eyes. The girl who flirted with him shamelessly while he helped his mother work. The girl who sat out under the stars and taught him every constellation she could remember. The girl who held him when his brother died, who held him even tighter when his ma followed shortly behind. The girl he vowed to protect. The girl who kissed him like it would kill her not to.

The girl he left in tears when he ran from the law—the greatest regret of his life.

“I love you. I love you, angel. I love you,” he chanted, each syllable cracking him open more and more. It felt like years passed as he sat there in the water, not once loosening his grip, terrified that even your body would float away and never be seen again. He would bury you. He wouldn’t let them burn you. You deserved so much more than that. He’d dig you a grave under a big tree by the cabin. He’d spend every cent he could scrounge up for a headstone worthy of the girl it would sit atop.

Then something moved.

You moved. He couldn’t be sure if it was the river or you, but he wiped his tears quickly before smoothing out your hair. His hand rested against your neck as he spoke.

“Angel?” It was a shot in the dark, a plea for you actually to have survived. It was met with dead ears, however. You didn’t move again. You were just as still as before. Then he felt something against his hand.

Thump, thump, thump. It was faint, but it was there. A feeling he hadn’t felt for five years. A feeling you hadn’t felt for five years—a heartbeat. He could only stare for a moment, pressing two fingers firmly against your pulse point and letting out a small gasp when there was something to feel. Your lungs filled your chest with a breath, and he swore that you took the air from his lungs straight to your own, his lungs constricting with anticipation.

“Open your eyes, baby. If you’re here, I need you to open your eyes.” He needed it to be real. Not something he was making up in his grief. Your fingers twitched in the water as he watched the gloss fade from your eyes before you blinked up at him. Neither of you moved momentarily, overwhelmed by the reality you both faced. Your body didn’t hurt; the pain in your chest from the bullet was gone, replaced by the steady thumping of your heart. He just stared, taking in every color in your eyes that had been stripped away only minutes ago.

“Angel?”

“Billy?” you croaked, the best sound he’d ever heard.

“Hi, baby,” he breathed. Thank you. Oh, thank you. He wasn’t sure if he was thanking a god or his ma, likely the latter. It was her voice in his head that told him to take you to the water. You moved as quickly as you could to sit up and hold him, burying your face in his neck as you felt your own heartbeat against his again. It was everything you had begged for as you died moments ago. Another chance. One more chance at a life with him. His arms wrapped tight around you, letting you move your legs to wrap around his waist as he smiled harder than he thought he may have ever before. You moved back to pull one of his hands to rest on your chest over your heart.

“I’m… Billy.” He nodded in response.

“I know. I feel it. I feel it, angel.” You couldn’t wait a moment longer before you cupped his face and pressed your lips to his, desperate to feel him. Desperate to feel like the human you were again. His hand wrapped back around your back as he pressed you flush to him. You moaned softly into his mouth, giving him the perfect excuse to dip his tongue past your lips. You felt it drag across your teeth, but this time, it didn’t catch on anything—no more fangs.

“Those are gone, sweet girl. You won’t hurt me,” he mumbled against your lips, reassuring you as you melted into him, letting him move beneath you to get you two out of the river with a quiet, “Don’t want you to get sick by staying in the water.” You two didn’t make it past the river bed before he laid you down in the grass, pressing himself close atop you. He needed this all to be real. He needed you to be real, and when you tugged on his hair to keep kissing him, it was one more reminder that it all was.

“Billy,” you moaned softly as he moved down to your neck, kissing every inch of your skin like it would make you any more alive than you already were. He couldn’t stop; neither could you. You didn’t want him to either. It all felt right. Every slight roll of his hips down against you as he cherished you beneath him made you feel more than you had in years. Your hands slipped under the hem of his shirt, pulling with a desperate plea that he quickly listened to. One of his hands moved back to the neck of his shirt to pull it off after you undid the first button for him.

Your hands shakily moved down to your own shirt, still wet from the river, before he sat up to help you. He pressed soft kisses along your bare shoulders before laying you back down, tucking his discarded shirt underneath you, and peppering kisses down your chest. You shivered at the feeling, heart pounding out of your chest in the most unfamiliar way as you placed your hands on his shoulders to slow him down.

“Billy, my heart- it- oh, it hurts,” you cry softly, no real pain behind your voice. His mouth moved down to your chest, kissing along your collarbone to reach your heart, pressing open-mouth kisses over the organ now working again under your skin.

“Poor thing hasn’t beat for me in a while, huh?” You smiled at the tenderness in his voice as he licked at your skin with each new kiss.

“It’s always beat for you. Even when it was just in my head,” you stated firmly. It was true. There was never a moment, beating or not, that your heart wasn’t his. Your hands carded through his hair before tugging his head back up to yours, wanting to kiss him still. You didn’t think you’d ever grow tired of kissing him, of his lips on yours. He was yours as much as you were his, and now he had been the one to bring you back to life.

“Billy, I’ve never… I h-haven’t… I always thought it would be you, so when we s-separated, I didn’t…” you stuttered out when his hand brushed past the hem of your pants. His eyes widened as he realized the meaning of your words.

“You’re still…” You nodded in reply.

“I am. There aren’t a lot of people who want to have sex with a vampire anyway. Not normal people, at least. Some people are weird about it in a-” He cut you off with a kiss, not wanting to hear the details of those who sought out vampires specifically for that reason. He had heard of them, and the thought of you with one made him sick. Suddenly, a pang of guilt hit his chest.

“I’ve had sex before,” his voice was quiet, almost ashamed.

“I know.”

“I wish I had waited for you.” He meant that, and you can hear it, the regret dripping off each word.

“I’m glad you didn’t.” You really did mean that. As much as you hated watching him bring girls back to the boarding house, you knew it was an escape for him for some time. “Now you’ll know what to do with me.” You tried to reassure him, and you watched a slight smile tug at the corners of his lips.

“I have learned a few things… should I show you, angel?” You nodded desperately, the heat pooling between your legs becoming nearly unbearable as he moved down your body, leaving sloppy kisses across your skin. You trembled as his hands gripped the hem of your pants, and he looked up at you in question, waiting for your okay. He never stopped kissing each inch of skin that he could. Kisses on your ankle as he pulled your pants off. Kisses down your shin as he adjusted himself in his pants. Kisses along your inner thigh as he looked up at you.

“I love you,” he declared, voice low and just for you. You thought your heart couldn’t beat faster, but with each heavy breath, you were proven wrong.

“I love you too,” you breathed out before he ducked his head lower, reaching a hand up to your stomach to offer you to hold.

“Tell me if it’s too much or uncomfortable, okay? I’ll stop immediately.”

“I will,” your voice was nearly a moan in itself at the feeling of his breath against you. You thought you knew pleasure before, but the second his mouth connected to your body, you knew only he was capable of giving you it. This was Billy. Your Billy. He’d be the only man ever to make you feel like this.

“I’ll miss the fangs,” Billy whispered as you tucked yourself closer to him, bare skin glistening with sweat the same as his. He draped his jacket over you, having grabbed it from the side of the river where he discarded it earlier, holding you close as his feet brushed the water. Your legs were exposed and soaking up each ray of sunshine through the trees, something you’d wished to feel again for so long.

“Oh, shut up,” you laughed softly as you smacked his chest playfully.

“What? I can’t think you looked hot, angel?” he teased, looking down at you with an adoration that wasn’t foreign; it was comforting that you knew it, that you knew only Billy looked at you like that.

“Shut up, Billy Bonney… before I have to bite you,” your voice was nothing more than a seductive whisper, and had he not just spent an hour cherishing every inch of your body, he’d be flipping you back over to prove his love even more. He could wait until you two were back in the cabin, until he could make love to you in a bed.

“Ooh, please do. It’ll feel really good now.” He laughed with his whole chest as you smacked him harder, looking up at him with a smile that he swore made the world stop turning even if just for a moment. You were his girl. No longer undead. Just his. He would protect you until you both were old and grey. He’d hold you in your shared bed as you both drifted off to sleep on your final night. He wouldn’t let you go this time.

“It wasn’t a mistake, Billy. I may not have meant for it to happen, but I don’t regret you seeing me that night,” you spoke softly as you rested your chin on his chest. A small smile tugged up on his cheeks as he smoothed your hair out and took in the sight of you.

“I know, angel. You thought you were protecting me. I thought I was protecting you by leaving all those years ago. We were both wrong. That’s okay.” You wanted to hate how understanding he was after your harsh words that morning, but it just made you melt into him more. You were safe. Your heart was beating. You didn’t have to hide anymore.

“I’m done hunting,” he proclaimed, “We can run. We’ll go to Mexico or- or past that if we have to. I’m running again, but I’m not letting you go this time. I’m not leaving you behind. I don’t know where we’ll end up, but if I have you, that’s more than enough.” You moved to press a kiss to his skin as you moved one of your hands up to brush his hair from his eyes.

“Take me someplace warm. I missed the feeling of the sun on my skin.”

“I’ll find you somewhere you can lay out in the sun all day, angel.” This was it. This was your ending. This was how life was supposed to be. The last five years were a cruel nightmare in your past but your future was so bright. You had a home, unmoving and steady, in Billy’s arms. The same arms that held you and begged the world to give you back. It had worked. By some miracle –or his ma beyond the grave as you knew he’d like to believe– you two knew your story wasn’t over. Your heart started beating again, which the two of you would never take for granted.

#billy the kid x reader #billy bonney x reader #billy the kid imagine #billy the kid #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth fanfiction #billy the kid smut #billy bonney #billy mccarty #billy #lemon pepper!reader

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literaryvein-reblogs · 9 months ago

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Writing Notes: Caffeine

Caffeine - A mild alkaloid stimulant made by some plants.

Found in coffee beans, tea leaves, and cocoa beans; added to soft drinks, energy drinks, and energy bars; and sold in capsules and tablets as a dietary supplement.

A mild stimulant. It is used to temporarily relieve fatigue and increase mental alertness. Caffeine is added to some antihistamine drugs to help counteract the sleepiness they may cause. It is also added to over-the-counter headache remedies (e.g., Excedrin) and migraine headache drugs to enhance their painkilling effects. Under medical supervision, citrated caffeine (a prescription drug) is used to treat breathing problems in premature infants.

From the Italian word cafée, meaning "coffee", is naturally made by about 60 plants. The most familiar of these are coffee leaves and beans, tea leaves, kola nuts, yerba mate, guarana berries, and cacao (the source of chocolate). In plants, caffeine is a pesticide. Insects eating plants that contain caffeine become disabled or die.

It has no nutritional value. But there seem to be some benefits to regular caffeine consumption, despite conflicting research.

Effects on the Body

Increases heart rate

Temporarily increases blood pressure

Relaxes smooth muscle cells in the airways

Releases fatty acids and glycerol in the body for energy use

Easily crosses the blood-brain barrier and changes the level of neurotransmitters in the brain

Passes into breast milk

Caffeine is absorbed in the stomach.

Its effects are noticeable in about 15 minutes and usually last several hours.

However, there is a huge variation among people both in their sensitivity to caffeine and in how long it stays in their bodies.

Although the average time it takes half a dose of caffeine to be eliminated from the body is 3-4 hours, this time may extend to 6 hours in women taking oral contraceptives; much longer in pregnant women and in people with liver damage.

Many well-designed, well-documented studies show that caffeine makes people more alert, improves short-term memory, enhances the ability to concentrate, increases the individual’s capacity for physical work, and speeds up reaction time.

In habitual caffeine drinkers, caffeine achieves this by preventing the detrimental effects of withdrawal.

It does not boost functioning to above normal levels.

All of these effects are temporary.

Caffeine does not replace the need for rest or sleep.

Caffeine Withdrawal

Discontinuing caffeine among regular users can cause withdrawal symptoms. These can include:

Headaches (very common)

Irritability

Nausea

Fatigue

Sleepiness

Inability to concentrate

Mild depression

Caffeine withdrawal symptoms begin 12–24 hours after caffeine is stopped.

Withdrawal symptoms peak at around 48 hours, and can last up to 5 days.

Tapering caffeine use, for example cutting down on caffeine by the equivalent of half a cup of coffee (about 50 mg) a day, minimizes or eliminates withdrawal symptoms.

Caffeinism

People who consume more than 500 mg of caffeine a day—equivalent to about five cups of coffee—may develop a condition called caffeinism, though the threshold varies among individuals.

Produces unpleasant sensations, some of which are similar to withdrawal symptoms. Symptoms of Caffeine Overuse include:

Restlessness

Irritability

Nervousness

Anxiety

Muscle twitching

Headaches

Inability to fall asleep

A racing heart

Related Disorders

Severe overuse of caffeine can cause a number of related disorders, including:

Caffeine Intoxication—usually the result of taking caffeine pills (e.g., NoDoz), this condition causes mental changes, rambling thoughts and speech, irregular heartbeat, and other symptoms associated with overuse. In severe cases death can result from ventricular fibrillation (unsynchronized contractions of the ventricle of the heart).

Caffeine-Induced Anxiety Disorder—severe anxiety that interferes with daily social interactions and occurs after caffeine intoxication or heavy long-term use of caffeine.

Caffeine-Induced Sleep Disorder—an inability to sleep that is so great it requires medical/psychiatric attention and occurs after prolonged caffeine consumption.

Non-Specific Caffeine-Induced Disorder—disorders not listed that are attributable to either acute or long-term caffeine consumption.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ Describing Food ⚜ Cocktails

#caffeine #writing notes #writeblr #dark academia #spilled ink #writers on tumblr #writing reference #literature #writing prompt #poets on tumblr #poetry #writing inspiration #writing ideas #coffee #tea #creative writing #fiction #giuseppe de nittis #writing resources

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enbyfvcker · 6 months ago

Text

Under the influence

Wade Wilson x Logan (Worst!Wolverine)

Word Count: 1,2k

Tags: alcohol, suggestive content, mutual pining, kissing.

It's been a few weeks since Logan started living with Wade and Althea. It was... different. It took him a while to get used to living with other people after so much time being alone. He told himself it was only temporary, that he would get a job and only stay there until he could push himself up and find somewhere else to be. It was the plan at first. But it began to be less and less convincing whenever he told himself that.

So what if he actually wants to live with the off-putting, annoying, mouthy roommate he got himself with? So what if he started to enjoy the merc's company and even his stupid jokes? So what if every time Wade flirts with Logan, he wishes it wasn't a joke, that it was genuine.

Sue him.

God, he needs a drink.

He isn't used to this. This shit is usually easy. When he likes someone, he simply acts on it. It's simple, not this... confusing turmoil in his head.

First of all: he hasn't been with a guy for a while. With anyone, for that matter. And second: the first person he actually wants after so long is motherfucking Wade Wilson?

He must be broken. He really must be the worst Wolverine of all because there's no way a normal one would follow this 'plot', right?

Fuck, he's spending too much time with Wade.

Sleep seemed to elude him, so he goes out in the middle of the night when everyone's asleep to get a drink. He buys two bottles of Whisky in some convenience store and wanders through the streets he's still trying to memorize. He didn't want to drink at the apartment or at a bar, so he just tries to walk it off. He downs an entire bottle in less than 10 minutes, and it barely does anything, but the agitation in his mind seems to slowly ease.

Maybe he could just try to ignore it, right? Who cares if he feels his heart race and his eyes wander whenever Wade gets out of the shower? Who cares if he wants to trace and map every scar and make a whole catalog for them in his mind? It's not like he isn't used to not having what he wants. Except, this time, the only thing in his way is himself.

He doesn't want to think about it. Tossing the empty bottle in a trash can, he opens the second one and starts downing it. It was a finger filled when he arrived at the apartment. He walked the stairs and double-checked the number on the door to make sure he didn't end up invading someone's place. Tapping his pockets, he curses himself when he doesn't find the fucking key. He must have left it inside.

This shit is stripping him off of brain cells.

Logan bangs his head on the door miserably and slides to the floor, sitting with his back against the wood. He finished the rest of the bottle, and he was pretty sure he was going to stay there until sunrise when, after a few minutes, the door opened, and he fell on the floor with a thud. Above Logan was a very shirtless Wade looking down at him.

"There you are, peanut. We have time for walkies, remember? Didn't I walk you yesterday?"

"I'm not a fucking dog." Logan grunts, his words slurred.

"Are you going to get up?" Wade asks with a grin, receiving only a groan in response. "Okay-dokey." He reaches down and puts Logan's arms over his shoulders to get him standing, arm wrapping around his waist. "Come on, puppy." Logan snarls at that, but he just lets him.

Wade smells nice... And Logan has too much alcohol in his veins to stop himself from nuzzling against Wade's neck after he closes the door. His brain seemed to shut down, and all he can think about is how close Wade is and the feeling of his arm around him.

"Aw, is pup clingy?" Wade teases, receiving a low growl in response. "Did cat got your t-" He's interrupted by Logan's weight pressing him on the door. His heart flutters and he gasps in surprise at the sudden nibbles on his neck. And if he had any body hair, Wade would have goosebumps all over.

"Okay, wow- Hold up, peanut-" Logan sucks a dark bruise in the merc's skin, watching as it slowly disappeared. His hand grabbed Wade's and guided it under his shirt. "Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck, you should really stop-"

"Why?" Logan presses himself closer, and Wade's resolve almost crumbles to nothing when he feels the hard bulge pressure against his thigh.

"Cause- You're drunk, and... Oh god." Wade's focus was drifting as the nibbles turned to straight up bites into his neck. He pushes Logan away slightly. "Nononono, you shouldn't do 'it' with drunk people. Fucking keep it together, Wade Junior, dammit." He babbled mostly to himself, trying not to think of how he wanted to let his hand wander where Logan placed it, and beyond-

"Thought you wanted this." Logan looks up at him, a hint of pink in his cheeks that has Wade's heart aching.

"Yeah, but not-"

"Were it all actually just jokes, then? You didn't... mean it?"

"No, no, I do! I did. I do want it, gosh, if it isn't obvious enough. I just can't with you like this."

Logan only seemed to listen the 'I want it' part.

"It'll wear off any second anyway... healing factor, remember?" Logan presses his lips against Wade's in an almost desperate kiss, their tongues quickly meeting hungrily. Wade melts into the kiss for a few seconds before scolding himself and pulling away.

"Nonono. No. God, you're making this really hard for me. In every way- Look, let's get you to bed and talk about it in the morning, okay? Okay." Wade pushes Logan's body off of him with some difficulty - earning a frustrated grunt from him - and practically drags him to his room, placing the gruff hairy man at the bed.

"I'm not sleepy..." Logan groans as Wade removes his shoes.

"Of course not." When he finishes removing the shoes from Logan, he hears him snoring, already drifted out with a very prominent erection, and he has to chuckle to himself.

Maybe he'll sleep on the couch tonight.

...

Logan wakes up with a headache, the sunlight too bright as he opens his eyes.

He sits on the bed, looking around him. He doesn't see Wade.

Wade.

Fuck.

Flashes of last night come to his mind, and he wants to punch himself.

Stupidstupidstupidstupid-

Logan walks to the living room, hoping maybe Wade is out doing groceries or something, but there he is at the stove frying some eggs with his little pink apron.

"Oh, hey peanut! Good morning. Slept well?" Logan just groans, sitting at a chair and rubbing his eyes. Wade places a plate of eggs in front of him and smiles. "So, you wanna talk about-"

"No." Logan cuts him off, still avoiding the merc's eyes.

"You sure?"

"Can we-" He finally looks at Wade. "Can we just pretend it never happened? Things don't have to change, it's... I shouldn't have..."

"I don't really wanna pretend. And sometimes change is good." Wade replies simply. "I meant what I said."

"What did you say?" Logan still doesn't really recall every detail.

"I want it. You, I mean."

"Oh."

"Jesus, I can smell the gayness from afar. Get a room." Althea mumbles as she steps into the kitchen.

"Good morning to you, too, Al." Wade grins. When he looks back at Logan, he can see the screws turning in his brain. He didn't really know what to say.

"I... Do, too."

"I know, peanut."

Part two here

#poolverine #deadclaws #deadpool and wolverine #wade x logan #fanfic #logan howlett #wade wilson #deadpool 3 #fic rec

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zepskies · 2 years ago

Text

Smoke Eater - Part 14

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.

AN: Welcome back! Get ready for some more detective work, a pinch of Jo drama, another fire, and the reader finally meets John Winchester...

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 7,500

Tags/Warnings: Angst, fire hazards, threats, and hurt/comfort.

Part 14: “Message in a Bottle”

A week before Christmas, John Winchester left his house for work before the sun had even risen in the sky. It was still dim when he stepped out onto his porch, which is why he didn’t see it at first.

He heard the clink when his boot kicked at something metallic.

He glanced down and found a small badge lying on the ground. He bent to pick it up, and on further inspection, it was a fire department’s badge. A replica, probably, because it had Dean’s number on it: 20579.

The badge was also splattered with blood.

Later at his office, John handed it over to his partner for his inspection.

“It’s actually paint,” John said. “Forensics looked it over. No prints, of course.”

“That’s a shame,” Cas said. His tone was mild, but his face was as grave as John’s as he considered the crimson-stained badge. They stood together in the bullpen of the 84th Precinct.

“And I got this little present a few days ago,” John admitted quietly. He grabbed a folder off his desk and showed Cas its contents: a picture of Sam leaving the courthouse while talking on his cell, climbing into his car. Someone was watching his sons.

“I already have a police detail on him,” John said, heaving a sigh. “I requested approval for Dean’s this morning.”

Cas’s frown was deepening, along with his furrowed brows. “We may need to ask for backup on this.”

John shook his head. “Rufus won’t give it to us.”

Their esteemed Lieutenant thought John was on a vendetta with a ghost, stirring up a conflict of his own making. He only approved a temporary police detail for Sam, with the condition that John stopped what he was doing, let the Fire Department handle the serial arsonist, and let this blow over.

But Rufus should’ve known better than that by now. This was personal, and John wouldn’t tolerate these yellow-bellied threats to his family.

“Azazel’s applying pressure, hitting your weak spots,” Cas said, perhaps pointing out the obvious.

“So let’s hit him back, goddamn it,” John growled. He threw down the folder back onto his desk.

“How?” Cas asked. “We still don’t know who Azazel is.”

The other man thought hard, rubbing a hand over his mouth, and feeling the overgrown stubble. He didn’t remember the last time he’d shaved.

“How’s your progress on questioning Savage & Co.?” he asked.

“Stalled. Nick Savage has lawyered up,” said Cas.

His face slackened from frustration to realization. He didn’t seem happy about his next idea, but it looked like he had one.

“Though now that I think of it, we may be able to apply some pressure of our own,” he said.

John raised a brow and crossed his arms. “How’s that?”

“Dean’s girlfriend works there, if you remember,” Cas said. “Something happened this past weekend at her company Christmas party.”

John nodded, despite his frown. He was set to meet you in a week, but it looked like they might need to question you before then. What a pleasant first meeting that was going to be.

But if you had anything on Savage, on the company, or even better, if you were willing to wear a wire, that could be the break they needed to get some headway on this case. They could squeeze Savage for any information he might have on Azazel—like his real identity.

“Tell me,” John said.

You returned to work on Monday with steel in your veins (and a taser in your purse).

You had about an hour of peace in your office, catching up on your emails and calls. Then there was a knock on your door before it pushed open without your consent.

Damn it, should’ve locked it. Your lips pursed when Nick Savage came in.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” you said firmly. Already you were opening a drawer in your desk, reaching into your purse.

“It’s my goddamn office,” Nick replied lazily. But he crossed his arms and stopped just behind the spare chair that sat in front of your desk. It gave you a good few feet of distance.

You stared back at the man with hidden satisfaction through your disdain. It seemed Dean’s threats got to him.

“Just thought I’d let you know that Josh’s been promoted to Senior Sales Manager,” Nick said. He checked his watch absently.

Your teeth clicked in irritation, but you let it pass. He was just trying to get a rise out of you, and you no longer gave a fuck about this company anyway. What you told Dean before was the truth: you were now here just to collect a paycheck, until you could find a new job.

“Good. He’s been working hard, kissing your ass,” you said with a fake smile. “Now if you don’t mind, I have a lot of work to do.”

Nick made the mistake of taking a half-step forward. Your hand subtly clenched on the weapon in your purse, but you tried your best to seem relaxed. In control of yourself. This was your office that you’d occupied for three years.

This was your space, and this man didn’t control you.

“Take one step forward, and I will quit today,” you threatened. And then you bluffed.

“I’ll call Mr. Greenway,” you said. “In fact, he offered me a job last month. Then I’ll make a few more calls, and I’ll take all of my accounts with me. I’ll kill your fucking sales team and leave Josh to continue sucking your lackluster tequila dick.”

Nick stared back at you with thinly veiled shock. You’d always been “no nonsense,” but you’d never spoken to him like that before. He smirked.

This was why he liked you. And hated you.

“All right,” Nick said. He didn’t come any closer, but he did rest his hands on the back of the chair. “How about I buy out your friend Greenway. His whole damn company. And then I’ll blacklist you with every other company that calls for a reference. Even the ones that don’t call.”

Your eyes widened incredulously. He had the gall to wink at you, boiling your blood.

“I’ll fucking sue you,” you said, hating the slight tremor in your voice.

Nick rolled his eyes. “This again? Please.”

You couldn’t help it. Your temper snapped, and you pushed away from your desk to stand up. You gripped the edge of it to steady yourself. You quirked a humorless smile.

“As it happens, I know a damn good lawyer,” you countered. “He puts murderers in jail every day. I doubt he’d struggle too much with a corporate asshole. And I’ll remind you, Dean’s father is a police officer. I’m sure he’d like nothing better than to lock you up after I report you for what you did. And I will.”

Nick scoffed at that, his eyes narrowing.

“If you take it there, I’ll have every resource at my disposal to make your life a living hell. I’ll drag this out for years. Until you’ve got nothing but your boyfriend’s charity to keep you from living in a fucking box.”

You were seething, trying to stay in control. He knew it too, and he smirked at you. He pushed away from the chair and started to leave.

But then, he tossed you a smug look over his shoulder.

“Just remember,” he said. “You could’ve just spread those legs for me.”

It took everything you had within you not to hurl a stainless steel stapler at the back of his retreating head.

“A double please, Ellen. Dry, lots of olives,” you requested.

After a ridiculously long day at work, you were now trying to let go of your frustrations at the Roadhouse, while you still had the money to drink. You rubbed through the ache in your temples.

“Long day, hun?” Ellen asked you. Her eyes were sympathetic as she made you the martini you ordered. You gave her an attempt at a smile.

“Long life,” you muttered.

“Hmm. Asshole boss?” she surmised.

You met her gaze with a note of suspicion. “Did Dean tell you…”

You knew he’d told his brother about what happened at the Christmas party. And you had a feeling he’d told Cas as well, to try and see what you could do from a law enforcement standpoint. The first step was filing a report. Now you knew, however, that you couldn’t. Not if you wanted your life to remain in one piece.

“Nothing, hun,” Ellen shook her head. “You’ve just got that look. I reckon every woman in the world has worn that face. Usually because of a man.”

You sighed and chuckled at the same time. It loosened some of the tightness in your shoulders.

“Yeah, well. This one’s a rat bastard in human clothing,” you replied.

“Ooh, sounds like my old biology professor,” Jo chimed in. She was drying out some newly clean glasses behind the counter along with Ellen. “He had a reputation for scoping out freshman girls.”

You made a gagging sound as you reached for the delectable martini glass Ellen slid your way.

“Men are disgusting,” you said. Jo snorted.

“99.8% of them, yeah,” she said. But her gaze drew towards the door when Dean Winchester came in. And she added, “A few of ‘em are all right.”

Was it just you, or was there a softer look in her blue eyes when she noticed Dean?

You were soon distracted though, giving your boyfriend a smile to try and cover up how exhausted you were, in every sense of the word. He greeted you with a warm hand along your lower back. He dropped a kiss to your forehead.

“Waiting long?” he asked.

“No, just a few minutes,” you shook your head. You laid a hand on his thigh when he took a seat next to you at the bar. “How was your shift?”

This week he was on three 12-hour shifts instead of his usual 24-hour shifts, which meant you got more of him in the evening.

“Fine. Just a couple of accidents to clear off the road, nothing major,” he replied. He ordered a beer from Ellen and gave Jo a smile. He was surprised to see mother and daughter working civilly together under one roof, after the scene he saw last week.

“How’s the studying going?” he asked Jo, once Ellen was out of earshot to serve further down the line. He turned to you and filled you in. “Jo’s gearin’ up to hit the Police Academy.”

“Oh wow, that’s great!” you remarked.

Jo glanced over at her mom, but then she smiled, looking back at you and Dean. She focused on him.

“The test is in a few weeks,” she said. “I think I’m ready, but I don’t know…”

“You’ll be fine,” Dean said, with easy conviction. “You’re stubborn enough to know it’s what you want. So I got no doubts about you.”

Jo’s smile was warm, with a hint of shy and gratefulness. You smiled at Jo encouragingly, but inside, you had a familiar unease churning inside your gut.

Dean then turned to you with expectant brows. His fingers brushed a strand of hair away from your cheek, curling it behind your ear.

“And how was your day?” he asked. His tone was quieter, laced with double meaning.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Jo moving on to another waiting customer with a small sigh.

You met Dean’s gaze and you nodded. “It was fine.”

His brows rose a touch higher. “Very convincing. You took the taser with you, right?”

You sighed and had to smile a little. His concern warmed you, made you feel protected, even though you’d had to do that part yourself today. You soothed a hand over his chest, between the open panels of his plaid shirt.

“Yes, I did. I’m okay, baby. We’re at a standstill,” you said. And you reminded him, “I can handle myself, you know.”

Dean nodded, sighing through his nose. His hand rubbed up and down your back, whether to comfort you or himself, you didn’t know. Your fingers curled into his shirt, and you smiled up at him, just before you tugged him down for a kiss.

It was slow and sweet, until you became a bit more than sweet, grazing his bottom lip with your teeth. His hand came up to cup the back of your head as he accepted the warmth of your kiss.

You knew that you couldn’t tell Dean what happened this morning in your office. He’d likely go for the Halligan in his trunk and beat Nick Savage within an inch of his life.

While the idea appealed to you for several reasons, you didn’t want to be the reason Dean lost his badge, or ended up in jail.

So over a couple of drinks, you distracted him by having a healthy debate over what you two were going to have for dinner later: sushi or pizza.

You ultimately won with sushi. (Or maybe he let you win. Either way, you were getting salmon rolls tonight.)

Still, you had that uneasy feeling when you and Dean left the bar. You wondered how the hell it had taken you this long to notice the starry look of longing in Jo’s eyes.

You fell into step with Dean as you two headed for the sushi restaurant down the street. It was already dark out, but even on a Tuesday night, the streets and sidewalks of downtown were busy.

“Can I ask you something…potentially uncomfy?” you said.

Dean’s head turned to you, with a raised brow.

“Uncomfy?”

You let out a breath, and you could see it on the December chill in the air. Your hands were tucked into your pockets, and so were Dean’s in his.

“Did you and Jo ever have a thing?” you asked.

Dean blinked, but then his lips pressed together. “What makes you say that?”

You sent him a suspicious look. You’d known him long enough to know when he was hedging.

“Just please, answer the question,” you said.

He blew out a breath. After a moment, he nodded.

“Yeah, for a few weeks,” he admitted.

You sighed. That sure explained a hell of a lot. And really, with his track record, you couldn’t be surprised.

“You dated her, or you hooked up with her?” you clarified. Dean shot you a look.

“Dated,” he said, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

Your brows furrowed. “When?”

He’d told you that he’d been in one relationship before, briefly…

“About a few months before I met you,” he said at last. But he saw the incredulous, almost upset look on your face. “Obviously it didn’t work out.”

“You couldn’t have told me that earlier?” you asked. Your hands slipped out of your pockets to gesture at him. “How did it end?”

The man sighed, looking up at the sky.

“Come on, Dean,” you prodded.

“All right,” he placated with a hand. “It didn’t end great, put it that way.”

You couldn’t help a frustrated huff. You crossed your arms and kept walking beside him down the street, albeit in silence.

Dean glanced at you in slight exasperation. He was with you now. Why did it matter to you so much?

“She still has feelings for you,” you said, though you still weren’t looking at him.

“How do you figure?” he asked. But if he was honest, even he knew the truth.

“Because I could see her eyeing you like a honey glazed ham,” you snipped. At that, he let out an incredulous chuckle.

“Are you jealous?” he teased.

You stopped walking and looked up at him, frowning. “Do you want me to be?”

Dean stopped as well. He sobered, realizing you weren’t in the mood for jokes. You’d been through a lot recently, and he knew then that you didn’t need this kind of stress on top of everything else. He drew closer and gently grasped your arms.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. Though he thought to himself, I’ll talk to Jo if I have to.

Your lips pursed in frustration, but he soothed his hands up and down your arms. His touch plied you, along with his smile.

“Hey,” Dean said, dipping his chin so he could catch your eyes. “You should know how I feel about you by now.”

You sighed and nodded in agreement.

“Mhmm,” you replied.

He wasn’t satisfied.

“Okay, listen,” he said, squeezing your arms and earning your eyes on him. It took him a moment, letting out a breath, but he was honest.

“I love you," he reminded. "And if that damn elevator hadn’t broke down on you, I’d still be missing something in my life.”

…Damn it, you thought, even as a blushing smile grew across your face. Dean Winchester was too smooth for his own good.

But you also saw the sincerity in his eyes. You couldn’t help but be warmed by his words, down to your toes.

“There she is. All right,” he said with a grin. He nodded in satisfaction and gathered you into his arms. “My soft girl again.”

Your smile deepened, but you still pinched his side, making him flinch and laugh. You held him back and looked up at his handsome face. He still looked amused and his eyes were warm. You leaned up on your toes for a kiss that lingered on wind-chilled lips.

“I love you,” you whispered back, against his lips.

His smile against yours was your answer.

Two hours and two salmon rolls later, Dean drove you home. You had taken an Uber to the Roadhouse, which reminded him that he needed to make another trip to Singer Salvage.

He’d been scoping out potential cars to fix up for you. He’d even recruited Bobby’s help to find something good, something with strong bones. Dean could do the rest.

Even after he watched you get inside your house safely, he let out a subtle breath before he peeled away. He wished you were coming home with him tonight. More often, he was feeling your absence when you weren’t in his bed. But it also reassured him, that he knew you were safe with him and Sam at their apartment.

He later found his brother eating leftover chicken parmesan at the kitchen counter.

“Why’re you eating standing up?” Dean asked, tossing his keys onto the counter. He reached into the fridge for a beer. “You look like Big Bird if he wore a suit.”

Sam sent him a dry look. “I don’t know. Force of habit.”

He barely had time in his day for an uninterrupted coffee, let alone a meal. When Dean wasn’t here, Sam fell back onto his work habits. He took his plate and actually went to the table.

“You eat already?” he asked. Dean nodded and said he’d eaten with you.

“Oh yeah? How’s she doing?” Sam asked.

Dean sighed and sank down heavily onto the chair opposite his brother. He rubbed at his forehead.

“She’s okay, considering,” he replied. But he knew you hadn’t told him the whole story about how your day went at work. Whether you were trying to spare him, or protect him, or yourself, it still drove him up the wall. Knowing Nick Savage was still your boss, and he was there, an ever-present threat just a few floors above you in that building…

It made Dean’s skin crawl. It had his teeth grinding and coiled his spine tight with repressed rage. And worry.

He met his brother’s eyes. Sam had been watching him, hiding his wariness.

“What can we do about him?” Dean asked. He knew he didn’t have to explain who he was talking about.

Sam started to shake his head, but Dean wouldn’t have it.

“I mean it, Sam. Because I almost…” His hand and forearm clenched and unclenched on the table. He could almost feel the way his arm had pressed into Nick’s throat, slowly but surely crushing his trachea. Just a couple of minutes more, and Dean could’ve done it. In that moment, he saw it so clearly.

It was the first time he’d ever wanted to take a man’s life.

“I know,” Sam said. His brows furrowed in sympathy. “But you did the right thing.”

Dean’s lips pursed as his hand once again fisted on the table.

“If I hadn’t been there,” he said. “If I had been just a few minutes off…”

These were the what ifs that kept plaguing his mind, ever since the party. Sometimes, it added to the catalogue of waking nightmares that wouldn’t let him sleep.

“And now she’s gotta go back there, every day, where that animal is just waiting for an opportunity,” Dean gritted out. Then his fist dropped more heavily onto the table, rattling Sam’s silverware.

Sam held the table steady and looked at his brother, calm but firm.

“You can’t touch Savage,” he said. “Don’t even go near him. Whatever you do, he’ll use it against you, and potentially against her. Unfortunately, she’s got the best plan right now.”

Dean looked up at him with angry eyes.

“Wait him out,” Sam said, “until he makes a mistake he can’t easily cover up. In the meantime, she’ll find a new job and get the hell out of there.”

Dean forced a sharp breath through his nose. He leaned back in his chair and tapped his fist more calmly on the table.

“I don’t have to like it,” he said.

Sam nodded in agreement. “No, you don’t.”

The fire was wild. It was eating up the four-story apartment building in a full blaze. The Truck 79 team was geared up outside of it, with Chief Singer already calling out instructions along with Dean.

Benny and the Rescue Squad were already on the roof, rappelling down to get the ones trapped on the top floors out through the windows. Dean was on the ground. He had Gordon, Jack, and a few others behind him. Meg and Chuck were on standby, waiting for the firefighters to pull out any residents still trapped inside.

Dean had to wonder if he was walking into another arson, like the Richardson fire. Against his will, he thought of that day. He thought about everything his father had told him about that arson, about Azazel and his mom’s death. He thought about you, working for a man who was potentially tied to Azazel.

“Winchester,” Gordon tapped him on the arm. “You good?”

Dean glanced over at him, then nodded.

“Yeah. Let’s rock and roll.”

When Dean was at work, he couldn’t let the outside world into his mind. All he could let himself focus on was the scene ahead after he put his mask on.

Inside the first floor of the building was like entering a living furnace. It was hot as shit, and layers of smoke choked the room. The mask was the only reason Dean could see, let alone breathe.

He turned to Jack. “All right, take it room by room. Stay close. We don’t got a lot of time.”

Jack nodded his agreement, and Dean split his team. A few of the others took the first floor on his orders. Dean, Gordon, and Jack would take the old stairs to clear the second floor.

Fuck. This whole place is just wood and plaster, Dean thought, shaking his head. These old buildings were all the same. Easy to build, easy to knock down. And usually they weren’t up to code, often thanks to cheap property owners.

He got apartment 201 open with his Halligan. The shoebox studio was smokey as all hell, but it was clear of any tenants. Gordon moved on ahead quickly, but Dean’s brows furrowed as he listened to the unsteady creaking of the floorboards. He moved more carefully forward.

Until he felt the warmth under his boots, saw the orange glow underneath a thin patch of flooring.

“Walker, wait!” Dean called, at the same time he held Jack back.

He reached out, just as the wood floor splintered and broke underneath Gordon. His eyes flashed wide just before he fell.

Dean dove for him. His Halligan clattered away, but he managed to grab onto the man’s sleeve before he disappeared. Gordon grabbed onto Dean’s arm and nearly pulled him down too. Luckily, he managed to grab onto the splintered edge with his other glove-covered hand. He gritted his teeth at the strain of the other man hanging off his shoulder, but he didn’t dare let go.

Jack grabbed Dean’s belt to keep him from sliding further down. It let him grab onto Gordon with both hands. The men panted for breath; Dean had a better vantage point to see that the middle of the ground floor below was engulfed in flames. The glow of it flared in the corner of Gordon’s eyes. He could feel the heat making both of them sweat.

The wood flooring under Dean creaked ominously, but before anyone could move, it broke further. He almost lost his grip on Gordon as his torso hung over the edge. He managed to get a new stronghold under the other man’s arm, and Jack did his best to keep Dean from falling by pinning his legs down. Jack was strong, but he was still a smaller man than Dean.

“Jack, call for backup!” Dean gritted out. Jack nodded behind him and radioed in for help.

Gordon stared up at Dean with wide, but resigned eyes. “The floor’s gonna cave before you can pull me up.”

Dean stared down at him, even as lines of sweat poured down his forehead from within his mask. They both knew that if that happened, Dean would be pulled along for the ride down, maybe even Jack too. Dean gave a sharp shake of his head.

“Just hold on. Backup’s comin’,” he said. All his strength was going into keeping a firm grip on the man’s arm and jacket. He called to Jack over his shoulder. “Can you get next to me and grab him?”

To his credit, Jack tried. But the jagged edges of the floor around Dean were unsteady, creaking and groaning under Jack’s added weight, a bit too much.

“Stop, stop!” Dean shouted, halting Jack’s movements.

Gordon licked his dry lips and blinked sweat out of his eyes. “This might be the part where you let go, Winchester.”

Dean took exactly a beat to process his shock. Then he glared down at the man.

“Shut the hell up, Walker. You don’t let go, you hear me?” he barked. “Jack, grab the back of my jacket and my belt.”

Jack followed the order, and a combination of him pulling Dean up and Dean straining every muscle he had to heft up Gordon slowly, painfully, brought them back up and over the ledge.

Jack had an easier time then of helping Dean pull Gordon the rest of the way out of the hole.

And the rest of their Truck crew came to help them onto their feet, before the fire consumed the rest of the second floor.

Once Dean was out of the building, he took off his mask and breathed in cooler air on his face. He made a beeline for the fire truck. In the back was a cooler, and grabbed a bottle of water to dump over his overheated head and face while he caught his breath. Gordon and Jack were following suit, and the men stared and one another. All of their faces said the same thing.

We made it. We’re alive. That was almost fucked.

Gordon’s gaze met Dean’s, sobering further. For a moment, he looked like he was searching for words.

“How’s your shoulder?” he asked eventually.

Dean nodded, rotating his right arm. He was going to feel that bitch tomorrow.

“Fine,” he said. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Gordon nodded. Another hesitation, followed by an honest gaze. “Thanks, Lieutenant.”

Dean’s face broke into a smile, wry but also genuine. “Yeah, thank me by layin’ off the burgers.”

He swatted the other man’s stomach and went for three more waters. He handed two of them to Jack and Gordon. One was smiling, while the other just smirked and shook his head.

“You callin’ me hefty?” Gordon remarked. “I’m averaging 6% body fat, man.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, right. What’re you, the Rock? That’s why you almost sunk.”

He dropped his fist into the air and made an exploding sound. Jack was wide-eyed, but Gordon just chuckled. They started making their way to the front of the truck to start packing up their gear. The Truck and Rescue teams had done what they could, and all the residents that made it out of the building were being seen to by the paramedics.

“I’d rather be weighed down by muscle than all them Little Debbie’s you’ve been putting away at the station,” Gordon shot back. “Cheap cake is not your friend.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “All right, that’s just uncalled for.”

“Dean,” Chief Singer called, beckoning him over with a hand. His free hand wore a glove as he held something steaming.

Dean nodded at his men and joined Bobby outside his department-issued SUV. Dean’s gaze focused on the bottle-shaped object in Bobby’s hand. There was a small digital box attached to the front, with wires wrapped around. The entire device was now blackened, but the smell of chemicals was unmistakable.

“Molotov cocktail?” Dean quipped, but his face was as grave as Bobby’s. The Chief nodded.

“Lafitte pulled this out of the fourth floor,” he said. “Looks like the same kind of incendiary device Arson found at the Richardson fire.”

That night, you made dinner for Dean at your house. He was forced to explain what happened at the apartment building, and why he had his arm pinned to his side like a chicken wing. You made him sit down and relax, all while you tried to hide your worry and relief that he was mostly all right.

Later in the living room, you sat on your knees beside him on the couch and lifted the bag of ice from his shoulder. You peered at it in concern, gently rubbing your hand over the joint and surrounding muscle. Dean sighed through his nose as your gentle touch was both soothing and painful.

“Are you sure you should do another shift tomorrow?” you asked, replacing the ice. He shot you a glance.

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Right,” you said dryly. “That’s why you can barely move this arm.”

Dean rolled his eyes and made his point by raising his right arm, slowly, but easily back down.

“I’ll be up and running by tomorrow. Just need a good night’s sleep.”

“Dean, are you sure? You seem to be in a lot of pain,” you asked.

He tried to hold in his annoyance. “I think I’d know if I’m fine.”

“You forget, I know all too well what downplaying looks like,” you countered, giving him a chiding look. Dean didn’t appreciate it. He didn’t need you to mother him.

“This is my job, all right,” he said.

You gave him a steady look. Your hand moved up his shoulder to rest along the back of his neck. Your fingers slipped into his hair.

“I know that. But I’m allowed to worry,” you said. Your brows furrowed. “Please don’t get upset at me for that.”

Dean let out a breath. He relaxed against the couch and met your gaze. He knew he had no right to ask you not to worry about him.

“Yeah, okay,” he said.

To you, he still seemed a bit annoyed. You nodded and continued to gently sift your fingers through his hair. You had to wonder if his resentment was coming from a different place.

“Are you still mad at me for going back to work?” you tested.

Dean breathed out deeper this time, but he didn’t answer.

Bingo, you thought with a frown.

“Dean—”

“All I want is for you to be safe,” he said. His voice was harder as his face tightened up. His hand gestured in frustration. “This whole thing…that fucking douchebag…it’s killing me. Fucking killing me. And you know that.”

Your eyes softened, and you unconsciously bit your lip.

“Ditto,” you tried to joke. It landed flat, because your boyfriend was deadly serious.

He looked away from you with pursed lips and a frustrated shake of his head. You sidled closer to him and tried to soothe, with a hand on his chest.

“Look, I’m trying to find a new job, but it takes time,” you said.

“You could quit. You could quit right now,” Dean replied hotly.

You sighed; you couldn’t believe you had to remind him about this. “I can’t, Dean. I have bills to pay, just like you do. You think I like this situation any more than you? I’m the one who’s had to deal with this for months!”

“I know that!” Dean snapped back. “Or should I say, now I do.”

He pulled away from your touch and pushed off the couch, onto his feet. You looked up with your mouth agape as he left the room. You got up and followed after him.

“You’re leaving?” you asked in shock. You watched him grab his keys and his wallet from the kitchen counter.

“I’ve got a long shift tomorrow and I gotta sleep,” Dean said, rather gruffly.

You followed him all the way to the door, where you grabbed onto his wrist. He stopped in the doorway, glancing back at you over his shoulder.

“Dean, please,” you implored. “Don’t go like this.”

After a beat, he seemed to soften. Just enough to lean over and press a brief kiss to the side of your head.

“I gotta go.”

He left you in the doorway with tears swimming in your eyes, and he pretended not to notice them.

When Dean woke up the next morning, his shoulder still ached, and he still felt guilty. He rubbed the offending join and tried to slowly roll the stiffness out of his arm. Fuck.

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes next. They blearily took in the digital numbers on his alarm clock: 5:00 a.m.

He slid out of bed and got ready for work. He definitely wanted to check in with Arson about the device that likely started that fire, and he knew his dad would need to be brought in on it. It would give Dean a reason to press John for an update on his investigation.

By 6:00, he was finishing his coffee, about ready to head over to the station. He could hear the pipes running, meaning Sam was in the shower.

Dean was startled only slightly by his phone vibrating in his pocket. His brows furrowed, but he fished it out and found your name crossing the screen, along with a smiling picture of you. He sighed.

Part of him hesitated. If you were calling just to try and convince him to call out of work, he was going to get worked up again. And he’d rather not have anything disturb his first cup of coffee of the day.

Still, he answered. “Hey.”

“Dean, did you come into the house last night?” you asked.

He didn’t like the wary, almost scared tone of your voice.

“No.” His brows furrowed. “Why?”

“Look at the text I just sent you.”

He put you on speaker so he could check his messages. Sure enough, he found a picture from you. It was of a glass bottle-shaped object on your nightstand. There was a black box attached, but its digital screen was blank. Dean’s breath caught in his lungs as his eyes widened. His heart dropped into his stomach.

“Dean, what is this thing?” you asked. Your voice was shakier, more worried. “It looks like a bomb. And it smells awful, like chemicals.”

“Don’t touch it,” he said quickly. “Get out of the house…better yet, wait for me at your neighbor’s place. I’m coming over right now.”

And I’m calling Dad.

Dean tried his best to calm you while the police and the Arson Department swept your entire house for devices, fingerprints, and any other evidence on who broke in.

You had a hand over your mouth by the front door as you watched them turn over cushions, move tables and shelves, ruck through cabinets. Your entire life turned inside out.

Dean’s hand rubbed up and down your back. You eventually had to look away and sigh. You pressed closer to his side, and he wrapped his good arm around your shoulders.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he said quietly, and kissed the top of your head. Inside, he was furious. Mostly at himself.

If anything had happened to you last night, after he left…he would’ve never forgiven himself.

So it was a welcome distraction when John and Cas’s police car finally pulled into the driveway. Dean led you outside, away from the chaos happening in your house.

“Hey, Dad,” he said, with a nod at Cas. Both men nodded back.

“Son,” John greeted, His brown eyes turned to you next. He offered you a hand. “Good to finally meet you, despite the circumstances.”

You blinked up at him and curled a stray strand of hair behind your ear, a bit nervously.

“Oh, it’s…it’s great to meet you, Mr. Winchester,” you said, sticking out your hand and shaking his.

A smile flickered across Dean’s lips. He realized then that this was the first time you were meeting his father. You were adorably nervous.

A reserved smile tugged at his father’s lips as well.

“John’s just fine.”

You smiled back, with a bit of a blush tinging your cheeks.

“Now, can you tell me what happened here?” John asked you, not unkindly.

Dean’s good humor faded away as he explained about the device left on your nightstand. He filled them in about the fire he’d responded to yesterday as well.

“What the hell is happening, Dad?” he demanded to know.

John let out a breath and nodded, swiping a hand through his dark hair.

“It’s another one of Azazel’s signatures,” he said, lowering his voice so only the four of them could hear. “It’s a message.”

“To who?” Dean asked.

“To me,” John said. “Warning me to back off the case…there’ve been other threats. I’ve finally got a police detail on Sam, and I just got approval for you. I’ll add her to the list.”

John glanced at you. Your eyes widened in confusion as you tried to hold in your fear.

“Who the hell is Azazel?” You turned to Dean. “Is this…does this have something to do with your mom’s killer?”

John’s brows shot up at his son. “You told her?”

“You’re over here talking about him too,” Dean retorted. He gathered you closer and met his father with steely eyes, to mask how his gut was churning with worry.

“You need to get this guy,” Dean said, almost through gritted teeth. “Get him now.”

John agreed with a nod.

Once again, you covered a trembling hand over your mouth. Dean squeezed your side a bit to earn your attention.

“I want you to come stay with me,” he said. His tone was boding no argument, not that you would. You nodded and fairly melted against him. Your head rested against his chest.

“Dean, this is insane,” you whispered.

He nodded and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I know. I’m sorry…I’m so fucking sorry about this.”

You looked up at him, your brows furrowing. “It’s not your fault.”

Dean met your gaze, but he couldn’t quite believe you. He was the one who kept pushing his dad for answers, to let him in on this. This was his family’s bullshit, not yours. You didn’t deserve to get dragged into it too.

The spell between you two was broken by Cas, awkwardly clearing his throat.

“We do need to ask you some questions,” he said. “About Nick Savage.”

You frowned. You peeled yourself away from Dean enough to face the detectives.

“What does he have to do with this?” you asked.

“His company is linked to a money laundering scheme, which ultimately leads back to Azazel,” Cas explained. “But we’re having trouble getting through his wall of lawyers.”

You scoffed. “Not surprising.”

However, it did worry you that Nick was possibly doing business with a criminal. Not that that should surprise you either.

“What do you want to know?” you asked.

“Well, first of all, would you be willing to file a police report,” Cas said, more gently, “regarding your assault at his home.”

Your eyes widened. Your mouth fell open slightly before you looked over at Dean. His face tightened, along with his hand on the curve of your waist.

“Why do you need me to do that?” you asked Cas.

“It’ll give us the leverage we need to dig deeper into his business,” John said. “Knock loose any shady dealings. We could get him to cough up what he knows about Azazel.”

You wanted to help, but at the same time, you were reluctant to mire yourself deeper in this. Dean saw your reservations, and he could guess why.

“Won’t that just paint a bigger target on her back?” he asked.

“We’re gonna protect her,” John promised. His eyes went from Dean, back to you. “But we need your help. This could be the break we need to get to Azazel. To find out who this bastard is.”

John could see your indecision. “All you need to do is fill out the report. Maybe get up in court to testify.”

You tightened up at that. “Testify?”

“If it gets that far,” John nodded.

“I don’t think so,” you shook your head. “That man can make my life hell without a serial killer’s help.”

You looked to Dean for support.

In the beginning, he had all but begged you to do what his father and Cas were asking. But now, this was just too much. He pressed you more securely to his side.

“Dean?” his father prodded.

“You heard her,” Dean said. “It’s her choice.”

You sighed and held onto the back of his shirt gratefully. The detectives shared a look, with John’s brows furrowing. He regarded you with a gruff, slightly strained look.

“Listen, don’t you want Savage in a cold hard cell?” he asked. “You could put him there.”

“Dad, she said no. Lay off,” Dean’s tone sharpened. Unfortunately, he knew how stubborn the man could be.

“Dean, I’m trying to nail this guy, but I’m missing pieces,” John said. “Right now, I can’t do it without her.”

“Well, figure it out,” Dean snapped.

John frowned in near disbelief. "Excuse me?"

“Look, I know where your priorities are, but mine is making sure she’s safe," said Dean. "If you can’t handle that, then we’ve got a problem!”

The strength of his retort took everyone by surprise, but no one more so than John. He hid it well behind a deepening frown.

He glanced between you and his son. You were looking up at Dean with unshed tears in your red-rimmed eyes, grateful, and holding on tight to his shirt. He still held you to him. His entire frame was tight and angry.

And John knew that he would react the same way, if he were Dean. He also knew then that he was pushing too hard.

So he sighed, and pulled out a card from his wallet. He handed it to you.

“I’m sure you’ve got Cas’s number already, but here’s mine,” said John. “Call me if you change your mind.”

“I’m sorry for invading,” you told Sam that night. He was helping you and Dean bring in your suitcases. You were pretty much moving into their apartment, indefinitely.

“You’re not,” Sam said, shaking his head. “We’re happy to have you here.”

You gave him a tired, thankful smile. “I appreciate that, thanks.”

“We’ll get to have an in-house chef,” Dean chimed in, earning more amused look from you.

“Need I remind you that I’m not an actual chef?” you said. You set down your smaller suitcase, full of shoes and toiletries, to grasp the front of his shirt. You leaned up on your toes and met him with a kiss. It was sweet, but it was also tender. His arms came around your lower back and pulled you flush against him.

He parted from you gently, afterwards pressing his forehead against yours. He let out a brief sigh through his nose.

“I’m sorry, about how I left last night,” he said.

You shook your head, despite the tears that wanted to burn in your eyes. You wanted to tell him, It’s fine. I’m fine.

But you couldn’t lie to him.

“You came back when I needed you,” you said instead. “Thanks for letting me stay here.”

You felt his fingers tangle in your hair, his hand resting along the back of your neck. It was familiar, and soothing.

“This isn’t exactly how I wanted you to move in,” he admitted. You chuckled wryly.

“Really,” he said. “…I was thinking of asking you. But not ‘til, you know, down the line.”

You softened at that. You raised up on your toes and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Then you circled your arms around his neck and hugged him close. He held you back just as tightly.

“Thank you for always being there for me,” you said. He couldn’t see your smile, but somehow, he knew it was there. But he could also hear you sniffle, and feel your body tremble with tears.

“You’re safe here,” Dean said softer into your ear. “Nothing’s getting to you, all right?”

You nodded, pressing your face into his neck. He continued to say and do whatever he felt he had to in order to reassure you that night, and make you feel safe.

All the while, he was trying to reassure himself.

AN: *burrr* That tension, huh? What did you think of her finally finding out about Jo's lingering feelings, plus a bit of Dean's resentment, him and Gordon coming to an understanding, and the reader meeting John for the first time! 😮‍💨😮‍💨

Good news though. Next time, we'll take a huge break from all this drama and have a nice fluffy Christmas special. (Plus a healthy dose of spice. ❤️‍🔥)

Next Time:

You hadn’t undressed yet from your jeans and sweater, but you crawled across the bed to come up behind him and drop a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“How’s your slugging arm?” you asked.

Dean quirked a smile at you over his shoulder. “Just fine.”

“Dean,” you said. Your tone was gentle, but warning. No downplaying.

You pressed your lips against the side of his head and soothed your hand along his shoulder and down his arm. Still, he was resistant.

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” he said.

You hummed. “Okay. I guess you don’t need a massage then.”

He paused. His head tilted just so, once again turning to you over his shoulder. You spied the edge of his piqued interest, his grin.

“Well, if you’re offering…”

Keep Reading: PART 15

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

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izxz-is-deranged · 4 months ago

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Baptism by Fire | Matt Murdock x BAU!Reader

Summary: You love your position at the BAU, but your life is uprooted when Hotch sends you on a temporary assignment to the FBI field office in New York. Apparently, someone had the bright idea to make a deal with a crime boss named Wilson Fisk, and now it's your job to build a profile to determine if the information he gives can be trusted. As you realize quickly things aren't as they seem, you must find a way to protect yourself- If protecting yourself has something to do with a masked vigilante... That's no fault of yours.

multiple crossovers | slow burn

A/N: Starts about ep3 of S3 of Daredevil! Reader uses a fake name, and can be seen as an original character if desired. Future storylines may involve Reader's past coming back to haunt her (Supernatural) and the trials and tribulations of her day job (Criminal Minds)

< ao3 link > <Masterlist>

2: Into the Flame

No amount of file reading or debriefing could’ve prepared you for the fact that the “secure location” was a penthouse in downtown New York City.

For a convict, a dangerous, unstable, convict, to be removed from a cell and placed into a spacious top-floor number with picture windows overlooking the skyline… A vile feeling sinks in your gut, coupled by the rhythmic and muffled chanting of protesters as your driver pulls you into the early morning scene. Your department would never make a deal like this with an unsub. You take a deep breathe- You just had to trust they knew what they were doing.

You step out of the car, boots colliding with the sidewalk and waving off the driver. You are smartly dressed, dark button down, slacks, with a large overcoat to protect from the biting cold. Nobody pays you any attention as you step into the scene, analytical eyes scanning.

Cops mill, corralling and circling the protesters like herding dogs. The protesters themselves are not violent, but merely loud as they repeat their slogans and mantras. Statistically, protests were always more violent because of police presence and escalation, so you eye the officers warily. Agents dotted the outskirts, some managing entrances, or directing press as well as the unfortunate patrons of the hotel.

Only one person catches your eye.

He’s unremarkable, hidden off to the side of the entrance. He is not shouting along with the protest or wearing any badge… Just an oversized jacket, hat, round sunglasses, and a white cane nestled in his grip as he focuses his attention on the scene. He’s not dressed nice enough to be a guest here. It’s not lost on you that he’s out of place, and your instincts to find an outlier all rest on his shoulders.

You move closer, head cocked. Now, you see he’s talking to himself.

“Are you alright?” Your question is simple enough. Innocuous.

The man turns his head in surprise. You see his face clearly now (Well, as clear as you can under the hat and glasses.) He’s scruffy, with dark stubble and curled lips. The more alarming part was the split in those lips, the dried blood trickling from the cut on his head. He furrowed his brow, as if determining your motive.

“Yes. Fine.” His words are curt. They slice right into your chest.

The thing about behavioral analysis is that sometimes you realize things you’d rather be ignorant of, like the bruises and blood on his knuckles as they curl around his cane. Eyes darting back and forth between the wounds on his face and his hands, if you didn’t know any better, you’d say this man had been in a fist fight- A decently violent one at that. But of course your brain is caught on the cane and dark glasses, this man was blind. What was a blind man doing throwing hands? Perhaps he just liked punching walls, but walls don’t exactly hit back.

“Excuse me,” he says politely, turning to leave.

You let him go, eyebrows knitting. As the enigma leaves, you return your focus back to your assignment. You had to find an Agent Ray Nadeem.

When you do, he’s waving off a blonde woman, who all but storms away from him. He’s tall, with dark eyes, large nose, and stress lining his face. Floppy black hair and a bandage fall over his forehead. You approach, breaking his persona down. He seemed nervous, on edge, which was normal considering the events last night. He was apparently the agent that got Fisk talking in the first place, and was now in charge of the investigation. The pressure was probably already intense- and only doubling down after a body count was added.

He waves you off as you approach. “I’m done with the press for today, Ma’am.”

“Well, lucky for you, I’m Agent Wren Singer from the BAU. You must be Agent Nadeem.”

He inhales sharply, embarrassed. He reaches his hand out to shake yours. “Sorry. It’s been a long… Just- Thank you for coming. I wasn’t sure if my superiors took my request seriously.”

“Of course. Sorry for your loss.” You smile gently.

“Yeah… Let’s just hope this bastard makes it worth it.”

Nadeem takes you through the building, keeping all talk very down to business. It seemed the FBI had agents monitoring almost every inch of this place. The building, this “Presidential Hotel” was nothing short of luxurious, with high ceilings and ornate molding covering every inch. Pristine tile glistens as you walk towards elevators, heart thumping.

The ride up is the longest elevator ride you’ve ever had the pleasure of having.

“I’m going to take you up to introduce you to the other Agents and…” He nods his head back and forth, not needing to say his name. “...Will that help with profiling him? I’m not a psychologist. I’m not exactly sure how it works.” He sucks in a breath.

“Yes,” you assure. “Speaking with him will help me get a sense of what’s going on in his head. I already have access to as much of his criminal history as possible, so that should fill in any gaps I don’t catch.”

“How long will it take for you to get a profile down?”

You smile. “Tomorrow morning at the latest.”

He nods again. It seems less in response to you and more for himself. A nervous habit, you note, as if he has to reassure internally that he’s doing the right thing.

The elevator door dings open into an equally nice area as the lobby, You swallow, following Nadeem into the space. He brings you around, showing the area where they’ve set up a monitoring system, introducing you to the Agents there. Apparently, Fisk's lawyers were in with him, so you are only delayed by a few minutes.

When they’ve finished, Nadeem takes you towards the doors. He opens them, holding one open for you to step in. Instead of the warm tones that cloak the other areas of the hotel, all manner of color had been drained from this unit, leaving a stark modern grey and white color scheme. It feels colder here. And like a boulder facing the window, Wilson Fisk stands with his hands clasped around his back. His jumpsuit was a deep soot grey, not allowing contrast between him and his environment. He was huge, and cast a shadow across the floor from where he stood.

“Fisk. This is-”

“I’m Agent Wren Singer from the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. How are you this morning?”

He doesn’t respond to your question, instead turning slowly while churning his hands.

Nadeem speaks up, “She’s just here to speak with you. You may request your lawyers if desired but the cameras stay on.”

“No, no… That’s fine,” Fisk responds, voice like gravel and thunder.

Nadeem turns to you, dropping his voice into a low whisper, “Would you like me to stay?”

You shake your head, wishing him silent goodbyes as he steps out of the room. You walk further in and can feel Fisk’s eyes follow your every movement.

“Wren, was it?”

You feel a sensation like ice water down your back as he repeats your name. Even if it wasn’t your real, given name, it felt intimate in a way you didn’t appreciate. This was most likely a tactic to put you on the back foot, referring to you so casually instead of “Agent Singer”. You hold your head high. Two could be cunning.

“They were my mother’s favorite bird,” you explain, offering a truth of yourself as a way to bridge trust between you two.

He hums. It's a sound that emanates from his chest and reverberates like stone hitting stone. “ ‘The world is grown so bad, That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch.’ ”

“Shakespeare.”

“You recognize it?”

“The humanities are not lost on me, Mr. Fisk,” you tilt your head, “Though that’s not what we’re here to discuss.”

He straightens. “You’re here to profile me, Miss Singer. Tell me, what does that entail? Assumption made by yourself against me, based on my actions? Who are you to judge my character?”

“I’m not here to judge. I’m here to understand.”

“Understand,” Fisk repeats, “And what do you aim to understand about me?”

“Motive. Mentality. To consult on whether or not we should trust the information you give us.” There’s not a reason to lie about what it is you’re doing, not yet. Your voice is deceptively calm, using every bone of training in your body to keep yourself professional and collected.

Fisk wanders over, closer to you. He’s almost double your size, and while you’d been up against some scary unsubs before in your career, never a man so physically imposing. Something about the way he carried himself, the twitching hands, the darting eyes, if you didn’t know better, you’d assume a spectrum diagnosis.

“The BAU… They work with serial killers, correct?”

“Yes,” you affirm, squaring your shoulders and leveling your voice, “But we consult on a whole manner of cases.”

“Do you think I’m a killer?”

“Are you?”

The closest thing to a laugh escapes his mouth.

“I thought you were supposed to know everything about me from your first glance, Miss Singer.”

Defensive. Any crimes he’s committed he feels fully justified in. “Well, it doesn’t hurt to ask,” you retort, “I find it’s more polite.”

Fisk was an incredibly smart man. It was an obvious conclusion from his choice of words, and from the way he guides the conversation to his own end. Which you allow him to do. You could feel the profile nearly writing itself in your head in response. After a few more minutes of respectful talking, you form a framework for your goals here. Right as you’re about to leave, Fisk speaks back up.

“It was a pleasure, Miss Singer. A surprise, of course, but not an unwelcome one.”

When you leave the room, you release a breath you weren’t even aware you were holding.

Nadeem is waiting for you, along with a no-nonsense type woman and a decently battered man. They stand, the woman talking furiously under her breath until you approach, where she turns quickly, head leveling.

“Agent Singer- This is Agent Hattley, my superior,” Nadeem introduces, gesturing to the brunette woman, “And this is Agent Poindexter. I was just filling them in.”

“Pleasure,” you smile, eyes flicking between the two.

Hattley tilts her head, eyeing you carefully. You can’t figure out why, all you can guess is that she’s confused as to why the BAU sent their youngest member. You hated the way people assumed you weren’t capable because of your age. Just cause you weren’t in your 40s didn’t mean you didn’t have a handle on your job.

All Hattley does is smile in response, then say goodbye and take off. You furrow your brow in her direction, following her as she walks out. What’s her deal?

“Don’t mind her- She’s not much of a talker,” Nadeem offers as consolation. “Dex here is much better company anyways. He’s the reason we survived the attack on the motorcade.”

“Ma’am,” Dex greets. He had sharp features and a wide smile that didn’t fully reach his eyes. A lot of combat agents had that look though, and by the squaring of his shoulders, you assume he’s also ex-military. He talks again, nodding towards Fisk’s doors, “You seemed to be gettin’ real chummy in there.”

“Unfortunately, it’s part of my job, getting into a monster's head,” you comment, his implications a little too clear. “I might be good at it but I don’t enjoy it.”

“Then why do it at all?” He shrugs, smiling innocently.

You couldn’t tell what he was doing, but a resentment was bleeding through his words that you didn’t appreciate. You squint, looking over him again. There was something you were missing, but you couldn’t put your finger on it yet.

“We’re lucky to have her help,” Nadeem adds, interrupting your thought process. “You figure out what you needed to in there?”

“Almost everything.”

If you need anything else, you’ll come back later. The only thing that circled through your head like a record on repeat was the ‘why’. From all you could tell, Fisk was a narcissist with sociopathic tendencies and autistic traits. The thing that ate at you though was that Fisk was manipulative. He was self-serving. He used people for his own gain, so why was it that he was willing to sacrifice his criminal standing to work with the FBI for his wife, Vanessa Marianna? To put everything on the line for another person goes against the profile that was being built in your head, so what were you missing?

That was the almost, and you had a feeling that the reason lay somewhere in his past. Something that wasn’t part of the files, which meant one thing.

You had to go digging.

A/n: If you want to be added to the tag list- Drop an ask!

#daredevil #matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x BAU!reader #criminal minds #supernatural #izxz writes

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inukag-archive · 7 months ago

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Merry Christmas!

On behalf of the Fic Finder team please enjoy this compilation of some of our favorite Christmas themed stories. We couldn't even make a dent in the number of holiday stories across the platforms, so please add your favorites in the reblogs!

A Quick Note: As the world continues to spin through the holiday season, hold your fandom friends close. We may not all be at the same party or curled up under the same tree, but we're together all the same.

Wishing you peace, love, and hot chocolate- The Fic Finder Team.

Pixie, Rudd, KStew, Anisa, Lost, & MamaBear

Silver and Gold by @splendentgoddess (E)

Christmas Eve is a time to celebrate family, love, and togetherness. Not something Kagome gets a lot of while trying to stop Naraku. But everyone deserves the occasional night off, right? Takes place during manga chapter 512.

Apple Pie and Mistletoe by @ruddcatha (M)

Called out of town unexpectedly for work just before Christmas, Inuyasha Takahashi asks his best friend Kagome, whom he's secretly loved for years, to house sit. When a storm grounds his plane, will the two friends admit their feelings, or continue to stay silent? What role does Apple Pie and Mistletoe play in what is about to unfold?

'Tis The Damn Season by @akitokihojo (T)

Best friends, to nothing, to one of them putting every ounce of their effort into avoiding the other. Christmas was supposed to be about visiting her family, but Kagome noticed the snow on the ground wasn't the reason an icy feeling crept down her back. Her childhood best friend, and neighbor, was home for the holidays as well. Turns out, being an adult doesn't help you escape from messy assumptions and the repercussions of being too scared to go after what you really want. For either of them.

A Piece of Home by omgitscharlie (E)

At winter's first snowfall, Kagome finds herself reminiscing about Christmas back in her time.

Mistletoe: Inuyasha by masterhiccup (K+)

Christmas in a remote cabin? Check. Best friends trying to play matchmaker? Check. Stunning girl that makes your heart go pitter patter despite constant, inward disapproval? Double check. Oh man, Inuyasha was in for one hell of a ride from the very beginning. How was he going to make it through the holidays if he could hardly handle the Hallmark movie he was currently living?

Everything But The Pear Tree by @fandomobsessions016 (E)

After going through a rough break-up, Kagome decides she's going to pull herself out of her slump by diving head first into holiday preparations. With her friend Sango and the help of her new neighbor, Inuyasha, Kagome is reminded why the holidays are so special to her.

The Best Present by @fawn-eyed-girl (T)

Inuyasha helps Kagome bring a Christmas tree home to the Higurashi shrine. Kagome tells Inuyasha about the traditions of Christmas Eve, and he gives her a special gift.

Slipped by @witchygirl99 (E)

“I was worried it’d be more of a sex thing.” A sex thing. Inuyasha makes a face at the ceiling. God, why does Miroku say shit like that? “Yeah, well,” he grouses, grabbing at his cell phone so that he can look his friend in the eye. “Give me some fucking credit. I’m trying not to fall in love with her.”

Miroku looks, in that moment, far too smug. “And how’s that going for you?”

“Fuck you,” comes his automatic response, a knee-jerk reaction. Begrudgingly, unhappily, Inuyasha sighs his next admission. “Not great.” Inuyasha has a life plan that is viciously, cheerfully and quickly dismantled the moment he becomes temporary roommates with one Kagome Higurashi. Unsurprisingly, this is all Miroku's fault.

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen by FrameOfMind (T)

AU. God, how he hated Christmas carols. Now, if someone would only think to write one about the overcrowded shopping malls and the sticky pine needles and the damn Salvation Army, that would be the Christmas carol for him...

Secret Santa (series) by @splendentgoddess (E)

In a modern world where most youkai stick to the wilds, hanyou are stuck in the middle, forced to live in human society. Inuyasha has an okay job and okay coworkers, but he's lonely, until one year when the office Christmas party changes everything.

If You Dare by @fawn-eyed-girl (E)

Inuyasha hates Christmas, and looks forward to spending it alone. Kagome loves Christmas, and is devastated that she has to spend it alone. She decides to leave a notebook in the stacks at a bookstore, in hopes of making a special connection. When Inuyasha finds it, does he dare take her challenge? And will she dare to accept his Commissioned Artwork by Clearwillow

Skeins and Schemes by @cannibalsforbreakfast (G)

Inuyasha didn’t understand why she was insisting she needed to go back to her time, because this time last year Kagome had said her school was on “ho-li-day” and that there were no classes. She’d tried to put Inuyasha off with excuses — she had a makeup exam, her school had changed its schedule — but she could tell he didn’t believe her. Because how could she tell Inuyasha that she needed to go back to her time to make him a Christmas present?

No Matter The Storm by @lavendertwilight89 (T)

Kagome gets taken and Inuyasha comes to save her but the can't outrun the winter storm. Trapped in a cave, what could happen?

Ego & Bias by hoshi-ni-onegai (T)

Sometimes, first impressions are everything and Inuyasha wasn't winning any contests. While attending a holiday party, Kagome runs into a guy who grates her nerves like no one has before. AU.

Christmas Traditions by @ideasthatbuildcities (G)

It's Christmas time and Kagome is eager to start sharing with her daughter the Christmas traditions she used to do with her mother. She only hopes Moroha would like to be as involved as Kagome wants her to be. Inuyasha is helping in his own way. [InuKag Family Christmas fluff for ruddcatha for the 2020 Inuyasha Fandom Secret Santa on Tumblr]

Mistletoe Tales by Reinamy (T)

The holidays are a time for miracles, even of the romance-variety. A love story told in bits-and-pieces.

#inukag archive #inukag fanfic #fic rec #merry christmas

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kabsey · 2 months ago

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I've been tinkering with the thought of how fun it would be if in certain faction-specific quests, the faction member that could have been Rook is assigned to you as a temporary companion.

Because I live in Crow mode, the example I've thought of the most is Viago assigning his protege to accompany Rook to the Ossuary. Because I find it hard to believe that the Crows (as suspicious as they are) and especially Viago (the living embodiment of paranoia) would just send strangers to rescue Lucanis.

I also very much believe that Lucanis would have been far more affected, physically and emotionally, from his time in the Ossuary than we see in the game. (Obviously both this and the whole idea of temporary companions are incompatible with many realities of game design. But that's what fanfiction is for!)

And so I present to you another drabble that may or may not ever become something real (my specialty!).

-------

As the last Venatori slumped to the floor with a broken neck, Dellamorte nearly followed. He braced himself on his knees, breathing heavily, his gaunt frame clearly exhausted by the sudden expenditure of energy. Ilene waved Rook back and approached her fellow Crow slowly while ensuring her footsteps were audible.

Despite her caution, Dellamorte snapped up the moment she drew near, and the glowing purple wings burst from his back again.

"Who are you?" he rasped. "Who sent you?"

Ilene swallowed down a number of her usual glib replies and kept the even expression she wore when addressing any Talon besides Viago and Teia.

"I'm Ilene de Riva," she answered. "Viago sent me."

Dellamorte squinted at her with tear-filled eyes; the light in his cell had clearly been much dimmer than the area they were in now.

"His protégé."

"Yes," she affirmed, though Viago hated when people called her that.

His gaze drifted to Rook. "And them?"

"A client. They have a contract with Caterina."

"What kind of contract?"

"In exchange for getting you out, she's promised them your help with something."

He opened his mouth to ask more questions, but she shook her head. "I'll explain more when we're out of here."

After staring Rook down for another moment, Dellamorte turned back to Ilene. "I have to finish my current contract first."

She nodded. "Who?"

"The warden of this place. Calivan."

"Do you know where he is?"

"We can find him," Dellamorte replied, and the wings on his back fluttered. "But we need to find the vial they took of my blood first. Otherwise he can use it to control me."

"All right. Let's get started then." She pulled the dagger from the small of her back and flipped it to offer it hilt first. "Until we find your equipment."

"Thank you," he said with a nod.

Rook approached. "Maybe you should let us handle the fighting."

Ilene turned a disbelieving stare on them. Dellamorte was already walking away. "Well, now you're just being insulting."

"What?" Rook muttered. "He looks like a stiff breeze would knock him over."

Ilene just shook her head and followed her fellow Crow. Even a half-dead Lucanis Dellamorte was more than a match for any mage. A half-dead Lucanis Dellamorte with magic wings and a spark of fury in his eyes?

The Venatori didn't have a chance.

#lucanis dellamorte #non-rook de riva #oc: ilene de riva #dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age

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bleue-flora · 7 months ago

Note

Tbh Im just thinking of something that im really curious and doesnt let me asleep. What was cdream planing to do once he was inside the prison? Bc if it was just contain the revival book then...why he had the plan to not stay too long in there? cpunz kinda implies the plan was meeting soon after cdream was imprisionated when they reunited post prison break. So what was his plan? the little we see of cdream in prison before he kills ctommy was him just passing around the cell and getting bored and starting to be starved by csam. Was it a plan to united the server, stay imprisoned a few weeks and then come out acting as if he changed? well that'd make sense, also could explain why he insisted so much in that he changed or leave forever even with people he and everyone knew wouldnt buy that at all like ctommy or csam after ctechno escape. But that stills makes me uneasy bc he didnt try that much. He didnt try to act like he was "reformed"(meaning as what the server expected to him to act if he reformed not in a way saying imprisoment is a was okay or acceptable way to help someone), he tells ctommy he burned the books when ctommy asked him to write novels as a way to say sorry.

Im just thinking what was he planned to do inside the prison? just stay there and rot for an indeterminaded amount of time? idk if the "contain the revival book" as his only motive fits bc then why he seemed to have planned with cpunz to meet soon and also planned that cranboo explodes tnt to trap a visitor with him? And the "trying to act as if he changed" while it makes more sense to me, it also doesnt convince me 100% for what I just said. Maybe a combination of the two? it could be, a person can have multiple reasons to do something. But idk, what do you think was cdream plan once he was inside the prison?

-Cleo

That is The question isn’t it -Why put himself in prison?

And the thing is I can’t really give you a definitive answer because we just don’t know. There are lots of variables and we just don’t have enough data to determine the answer, especially when we don’t even get his pov or get to see 80% of his lore. The best I can give you is my theory on why I personally think he did it, which I have talked about [here], based on the information we do have and assuming he’s not completely crazy, and is following some form of logical plan, however flawed…

For starters, one of the things we do reasonably know based on the amount of times it comes up including the finale is his larger desire and motivation - "Always the goal has just been that it's all one united server, that everybody follows the same rules, there's no countries there's no, you know, any of this it's just one giant like family." [clip], “I want everyone to live and be happy together” forever [clip], (after spending time in Dream’s head we get Tommy saying) “You just want things to be simple.” [clip] and then of course -> “I just don’t want to ever be alone.” [clip]

That’s the base line - Dream does not want to be alone, he craves community and family, a world where everyone is happy and together.

So keeping that in mind, for starters I don’t think he did it to “contain the revival book” and honestly I’m not even sure where that reasoning came from, I don’t think I’ve ever seen it and it really doesn’t even work as you point out, one reason being that Dream’s stay was meant to be temporary.

I also don’t think the reasoning of uniting the server works either because for starters the whole server isn’t even present for his arrest and the ones who are there weren’t necessarily big enemies before that. Besides technically he already did a better job uniting people against him during Doomsday. Now maybe that was a side bonus or goal but I don’t think it’s the main reasoning.

But yes, I do think it was a means to be seen as reformed or less of a threat by the server. I go into some of that reasoning in my other post. I think it was about providing a pathway to him not being enemy number 1 anymore. Because people had been rallying against him even in a time of mostly peace with the biggest example being L’manberg planning to assassinate him in cold blood in the Green Festival. Everyone was against him, even his friends and everyone lived in such fear and hatred of him no one would even hear him out. I mean I think the dethronement conversation is a great example of this (I provide a good bit of transcript in this [post]). Everything he said was seen as unreasonable and malicious and he was left alone with no way to mend these relationships. Everyone wanted him dead, but he didn’t want to die and while he could just leave to protect himself, we know he didn’t want to be alone, so instead his made a plan to a path of him being redeemed in the eyes of the server.

That was the plan right. Everyone defeats their villain, gets their revenge, but instead of him ending up dead like they wanted he is alive in prison and now that he’s stripped of his power, fear is more removed allowing for relationships. No longer is he this unstoppable evil overseer but just a person. Or so was I think his intention. They would keep him in there for a bit, realize not everything is his fault, that he isn’t this big evil tyrant, get their satisfied comeuppance and then people would let him out. Consider Bad’s reaction to visiting Dream [post] - he’s done bad things but he deserves better than to suffer - that is a whole different reaction than the person willing to have him murdered completely - dead forever - by Tommy a few days prior.

Anyways, if that was his goal, then why didn’t he try to act reformed upon his escape? Well… that was his original plan. By the time he escapes he has spent months being starved, isolated, and tortured, his mental stability ain’t exactly top notch at that point and based on those things even happening in the first place, his belief that people would think he’s reformed or allow him back into society has likely been squashed. Clearly, he didn’t think his previous friends would torture, starve, threaten to kill him if he ever leaves, even try to kill him when he’s already locked up. He underestimated their hatred and fear of him, so I doubt he had much faith at all for them to even let him have a chance to be “reformed” or just not wanna kill him at that point, since again most of the people he’s interacted with up until he escaped wanted him dead or promised to kill him.

However, I do think there was still that underlying hope. You can hear that hope bleed out of his voice in his conversation with Sapnap as he goes from trying to reason with Sapnap as an old friend even with the offer to start over, to sounding just as insane and malevolent as he did with Tommy [clip] -> [clip] -> [clip]. He tries so hard to avoid the fight that Sapnap is setting him up for, he tries so hard for them just to not be enemies. But him escaping prison is evidence for Sapnap that Dream is still hostile and even the torture is not a good enough reasoning for that escape to be anything but proof of his violent ways. And you can hear the switch in his voice the moment he realizes the only way people listen to him is if he’s the villain they see him as, if he finds their weakness and exploits it, threatening to destroy something they love (sound familiar doesn’t it?…)

As for his encounter with Tommy, after spending time with him in prison and then Tommy trying to kill him while he was in prison, I don’t think he thought there was any world where they weren’t enemies. Tommy already proved himself to be hostile and he, despite his fear of Dream, even came to get the weapons and confront Dream in the exile area, knowing Dream was going there, proving to still be an active threat. And what does a rattle snake do when a threat appears? They rattle, they rattle make themselves appear big, they make the threat afraid and send the threat away. And that is what I believe Dream is doing with Tommy in that confrontation. He’s making him afraid, so Tommy will be too scared to come after him. I don’t think he ever intended to make good on his threats, because honestly, there are other people on his priority list to get revenge and make suffer. And he’s saying the same things he said in the finale, we know was staged, about how he’s targeting Tommy specifically and Tommy being the main fun to torment on the server.

Now this plan does end up backfiring a bit because the moment Tommy returns home he immediately starts to form a group to go after and kill Dream, fortifying Tubbo’s house to serve as a base and gathering gear… etc. It’s because of that, that I think he leaves the creepy disc in Tommy’s basement, to make him more afraid so he’s too scared to come after him… so to me I’m not sure we can say he didn’t try to act reformed, I don’t think he was given the chance. Even with people like Foolish, who doesn’t even know him, he’s on rocky terms with. It doesn’t seem to matter what he does after prison, he can mind his own business - lock himself away and not bother anyone for months or go through with his threats and they’ll still wait outside his door to kill him and sneak into his house in the middle of the night to slit his throat. Hell even if he had done as Techno had and built a cottage in the middle of nowhere, I bet people still would have come after him. He’s Dream after all…

So Dream is clearly dancing on the edges of insanity and unable to gain any credit of change from people after prison, but as you point out, what about in prison. He sure didn’t seem to go out of his way to act reformed in prison and that was before the torture so does that mean this theory of him trying to be “reformed” in the eyes of the server isn’t his goal? Well no, not necessarily. As I’ve already mentioned, we can see the way he acts with Bad is very pitiful and making himself seem small and unthreatening to be let out, and we see him apologize to Tommy in his first visit and such. This though doesn’t appear to last long, but I think that is because he was experiencing lots of isolation, and not isolation that can be distracted from with like watching a movie or something (because he has nothing) - isolation without really anything to quell it. If you’ve watched videos relating to isolation or know much about it then you’ll know that it tanks mental health real fast. Therefore Dream’s insanity sets in fast. Leading to his desperation for human contact, so then instead of acting all good and getting reformed and paying for his crimes and being remorseful and such, he starts acting out like throwing himself into lava and burning the clocks just so Sam has to come visit him. His misbehavior then I think is a symptom and consequence of the prison conditions not necessarily part of his plan. He also calls it a prank so he probably didn’t think it’d go that much against his plans of seeming better, but clearly Sam doesn’t seem to appreciate his pranks and starts becoming more hostile and such, which shouldn’t suprise us given Sam’s behavior in the prison even early on. In addition, even Sam’s response to Ponk in the tour of the prison and what he says to Bad later about using food as a means to get information, I’d say it’s fair to assume that Sam’s intense demeanor likely started early on, meaning I think Dream’s food was being withheld early on, before the dropper was added. And that’s besides the fact that going from eating steak to a few raw potato’s would be a huge food reduction and cause issues anyways. So even before things get real bad, Dream’s mental stability is dropping real fast and you can see it from each visit he gets. There is genuine mental decline there even if Dream does also seem to use it to his advantage. I mean who knows what Sam did for Dream to stop talking altogether in protest in Sapnap’s visit… bare in mind too, if we look at the timelines Exile only lasted 11 days, countries only last a month or two, things went really fast so it’s not unreasonable for Dream to think his sentence would be short. But then “forever” is being thrown around even by his own friend and that’s when he probably realizes his plan is falling apart.

So by the time, Tommy visits again Dream is not in an optimistic and good mental state. Plus if I remember right, I believe Tommy said he’d visit a lot and even suggested being his like “therapist” but then didn’t come back until a month later on Feb 21st. So maybe Dream wrote the books but in his frustration of being left alone and Tommy not coming back, ended up burning them.

In other words, I think originally the plan was for people to come visit and talk to him and see that he’s not such a bad guy and that his punishment has been sufficient to then be let out. But things fall apart fast. Isolation and boredom starts to set in, food starts to be limited, and people don’t visit. He just didn’t want to be alone -> and now is left entirely alone.

Then his plan to trap Tommy happens likely way later then it was supposed to because I doubt he expected it to be a month before Tommy returns, and he aims to make some form of amends however minuscule or least have them learn to cohabitate, but that doesn’t go to plan at all, in fact Tommy calls him names and bickers and whines the whole time and 9 days later after Dream expresses his love for the cat, Tommy kills it as well as starts doubting the existence of the Revive Book (the only reason they left him alive in the first place). So after spending weeks in boredom, isolation with low levels of food, and after over the week that was supposed to happen (based on the prison waiver signed) of listening to Tommy bitch and dealing with his punching and calling him names, and even while experiencing the terrible conditions still being adamant that Dream deserves this, Dream beats his head in in a fit of mania. And that I doubt was planned either, and certainly helps ruin his bigger plan.

So what was he planning to do in prison? I think be visited. I think write notes and letters to people and such. I don’t think it was about being reformed or redeemed per say or that Dream believed he needed that (though a fair argument could be made that that was part of it) but about just not being enemies. In an ideal situation he’d become friends again with people, but I think he’d have settled for just being seen as some guy again and not having everyone trying to kill him. Like how Bad didn’t become his friend during prison or after but isn’t necessarily actively seeking him out to kill him. Dream just didn’t want to be alone and I personally think the only way he saw a way to not be was to put himself in prison to be let out by the server when they were ready to not want to just kill him… but as it turns out they never stopped wanting to kill him, they were only held back by the knowledge of a book he had. And instead of going from big bad villain to just some guy, he became nothing more than a book instead. Instead of gaining friends to not be alone, his friends became his enemies and he was left to rot completely alone… and after almost an entire year of suffering, he’s still enemy number 1, he’s still hunted down like a dog, they still want to kill him. Only this time, instead of stabbing him in the back at a festival, they make a deal with god just to kill him and break into his house in the night to kill him. In the end, if his plan was to be let out and let back into society as no longer the enemy, then his plan failed so spectacularly. And whether there was a moment specifically in prison or out where his plan became no longer feasible or whether it was unrealistic from the very start remains unclear. Though you could make an argument for each, I’d say both are probably true… I think it was perhaps the only option at least in Dream’s mind to have his family back and yet I also think it was probably damned to fail from its very conception…

#hopefully that answers you question #hello there #dreblr #c!dream #did someone order an essay?#but that’s just a theory a dsmp theory thanks for reading ;)#no one does it like c!dream #prison arc #dsmp analysis #let me cook #dsmp #dream smp #this make me sad :(… watching that Sapnap scene always breaks me no lie….

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florineseexpertfanfic · 22 days ago

Text

Amy-, Chapter Four

Title: Amy-

Summary: Shadow is not sure how to express himself. It doesn’t come naturally or easily for him. But he needs to figure out things, so he decides to write letters to a certain hedgehog- letters he never intends to send.

Previous Chapter

Chapter Four: Secrets Laid Bare

The day was long. Too long. Just like the day before that. Just like tomorrow would be.

Shadow stayed in his room, hiding from his embarrassment and fear. He only emerged to grab some food and go to work, barely spoke to anyone, and ignored all the calls Amy made to him. He turned off his cell phone. Every time he saw her name pop up on his caller ID, he felt another stone drop into his stomach.

He knew he would have to move on from this, eventually.

But he also knew he could take a few days and brood about it.

It had been five days since she read his journal. The letters he wrote to her that he never intended to send. The confession that probably turned her stomach. Shadow was not sure just how much she had read, but it must have been enough to know that he cared for her. That he… loves her.

Rouge had given up talking to him about it after that first day. She could tell something was bothering him, but she couldn’t get him to tell her why. He suspected that she called Amy, but he had no way of knowing. And thinking about Amy made him feel a little empty inside, like he was missing something.

Shadow ran a hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He had spent most of the past five days laying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He couldn’t do this anymore. It was time to get over this embarrassment, over Amy Rose, and get on with his life.

He was the Ultimate Lifeform, not the Ultimate Crybaby.

The first step was to turn his phone back on and hope that she had stopped calling him. If necessary, he would block her number.

The next step was to throw away that damned notebook- it’s caused him nothing but trouble. It was meant to be a journal to help sort out thoughts and feelings, not a place to dedicate himself to her. All of this nonsense started because of that thing.

The last step was to just get back out in the world and do his normal thing. Work with G.U.N when needed. Be annoyed at everyone.

Not go out to concerts.

Not be willing to go to group events, just for the chance to see her smile.

No, he would go back to who he really was: Shadow the Hedgehog. The superior being, who helped protect the planet that his sister wanted to visit. The anti-hero who was willing to do anything to achieve his goal. The hedgehog who kept everyone at a distance, including the ones he called his friends.

He couldn’t believe he let someone crawl their way into his heart. That he even entertained the notion that maybe, there was more to him than fighting for justice, more to him than being anything but a weapon.

A knock sounded on the front door.

Grumbling, he got up off the bed and made his way downstairs. Omega and Rouge were not at home, so it was up to him to see who was bothering them. Knowing Rouge, it was a package she ordered, and conveniently forgot to tell Shadow that it was coming. He learned from past experience to receive the package, or receive an earful.

When he opened the door, however, he was greeted with the sight of Amy Rose. She stood on his front porch, a plastic container in her hands, with a book sitting on top.

“Hey.”

Shadow said nothing, just stared down at her coldly.

“I made you chocolate chip cookies.”

Shadow rolled his eyes and stood back to let her in, against his better judgement. Maybe it would be better to get this done and over with quickly; it could help him get over his temporary insanity. As she passed him, his nostrils were filled with the smells of brown sugar and chocolate, mixed with a light floral scent that was uniquely her. His heart began to beat faster, and he resisted the urge to close his eyes to savor it.

Ignoring all his body’s natural reactions, he calmly closed the door and turned to look at the pink hedgehog standing in his entryway. Amy offered him the container, but Shadow just stared at her, his face lacking any expression. Awkwardly, Amy placed the container and book on a small table sitting in the hallway. She straightened up and looked Shadow square in the eye.

“I’m sorry, Shadow. I was in your room, because Rouge and I needed a piece of paper, and she told me that you would have some. But I invaded your privacy and upset you. I wish I could say that I didn’t mean to do it, but… when I saw my name, I just started reading.” Amy stepped forward, and Shadow crossed his arms across his chest, keeping his cool stare. “I can tell you were embarrassed by it. But, Shadow, you don’t have to be. It’s perfectly natural to develop feelings for someone, over time. There is no shame in it.”

Shadow cocked a brow at her, anger starting to flash in his eyes.

“I’m very honored that you think so highly of me.”

Shadow felt the tension sing throughout his body, making him curl his fingers into his palms.

“But I think-”

“I do not care what you think.”

The statement hung between them in the air, making the world stop. Shadow kept his tense stature, his face an expressionless mask. Amy, however, was starting to look mad. He had dismissed her, after all, but he wanted to get this over with. He needed this to be over with.

“Shadow.” Amy stood straighter, the fire he loved to see starting to burn in her eyes. “Be an adult. We need to talk about this.”

“We do not.” Shadow kept his stance. “You’ve apologized. It’s over. Now please, I will only ask you once, kindly, to drop this subject and leave me alone.”

“Leave you alone?! But, why would I do that?” Amy huffed, placing her fists on her hips. “Shadow, we can’t move on until we sort things out. I don’t want our friendship ruined over something so-”

“So what? Small? Insignificant?” Shadow scoffed. “It does not matter what you have to say, or how you feel. I know how you feel. You make it apparent every day.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means, my dear ‘friend’,” A venom like Amy never heard before saturated the word. “That I know what you want. I know who you want. Why do you think I kept it a secret? Kept it away from your eyes?”

“Because you are a coward who doesn’t like to face certain truths?” Amy responded with as much poison as he gave her.

“Because in the end, it doesn’t matter. This doesn’t matter. You don’t matter.”

Silence filled the room. Amy looked shocked, and her emerald eyes swam with tears.

“But… I thought you…” Amy sniffled a bit, trying her best to hold her anger and sadness in.

Shadow felt his heart break at the sight. But this was for the best. He wouldn’t be able to focus on anything, not until she was gone from his life.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Amy stood straighter, glaring at Shadow with much anger.

“You really can be an asshole.”

“Better than being a bothersome brat.” Shadow took a breath and doubled down. “One who doesn’t seem to understand when something is never going to work out. Honestly, you are just a stubborn child who loves to push her way into people’s lives, whether they want you there or not. You are a nuisance.”

That did it. Shadow knew it the moment he saw a light die in her eyes. She stayed frozen for a moment, absorbing all the lies he just spewed at her. Believing that he didn’t want her. That he didn’t care for her, that maybe what she had read was all a lie. But then she looked at him, squared her jaw, and reached out for the book she brought.

“I know what you are doing.” Amy countered, her voice lacking emotion. “You are trying to hurt me, to cover your own hurt. It won’t work.”

Shadow watched as she flipped the book open, and his eyes caught a date- a date that was around six months beforehand. He saw her handwriting. It clicked in his mind what the book was.

“I want you to read this.” Amy went to hand him the book, but Shadow refused to take it. “If you don’t, I’ll just read it out loud to you.”

“I don’t want to read your diary. Unlike certain hedgehogs I know, I respect other people’s privacy.”

Amy took a deep breath to calm herself down, then nodded. She brought the book back to herself, ripped out the two pages she wanted him to read, and angrily shoved them into his chest as she passed him by.

“Stop being difficult. You’ll end up alone.” She warned as she walked out the front door.

Shadow stayed still for a moment, cradling the pages to his chest. The urge to read them was overwhelming, but he had done it. He had gotten her out of his life. He could focus again on what he was made to do- to help the world, alone. So he crumbled the pages in his hand and stormed his way back to his bedroom. He threw the two pages into the trash can, quickly followed by the pink notebook.

The hedgehog hybrid then left. He needed to run, to get rid of this energy he had. To clear his head. To figure out how he felt now.

What he wasn’t aware of was that Rouge, who had enough of his extra-broodiness, would go into his room to figure out what was wrong with him. He wouldn’t know until later how she found the notes in the trash, read them, and placed them back on his desk. She smoothed out the crinkled papers, placing them on top of his notebook.

It wasn’t until he finally came back home, after hours of running and freeing flickies from badniks, that he would read the sticky note sitting on top of everything, written in his friend’s handwriting.

Don’t give up.

_____________

Dear Diary,

I finally know what it means to be in love. It is so much different than loving someone! I had it all wrong before. You can love someone. You can love many people, and I do! I love Knuckles. I love Tails! I love Rouge, and Sonic, and all of my friends. I love Cream! I love Vanilla! It’s so easy to love. It is so easy to receive it!

But being in love is so wildly different, it’s hard to explain. It’s like your heart can’t beat unless you are thinking about them. The world has no color until you see their smile. Sounds are muffled until you hear their voice. You want to spend every moment you can with them. You want to talk to them every night, even if you have nothing to say.

I want to sit next to him and rest my head on his shoulder. I want to feel his warmth as he holds my hand. I just want him! Everything that comes with him. All his happiness, all his confusion, all his trauma. I want to be exciting with him, I want to be boring with him. I want to perfect how he takes his boba tea- 25% sweet, taro, extra pearls- just so he smiles. I want to wake up in the morning to smell the coffee he brewed. I want to fight with him about how he forgot to take out the garbage. I just want to live with him. I want to tell him everything, teach him all about me! I want him to surprise me with a bag of microwave popcorn and my favorite movie in the DVD player. I want him to know about my fears. I want him to hold me at night when I have terrors, and to laugh with me when I do something clumsy.

This is so exciting. This is so nerve wracking! Does he feel the same? Does he want me? Will he ever love me? Will I ever tell Shadow how I feel?

I’m in love with Shadow. Shadow Robotnik. I know he rarely uses his last name, but I love it. It’s him. I love him, all of him. I hope he knows just how special he is. How precious he is. How it doesn’t matter what the past holds, because it made him who he is today. That he is not defined by names, by appearances, by what he was originally meant for. I hope he learns that it’s about who he is, deep inside. He is one of the best I have ever met. He is so full of hope, of love. He is so deserving of love.

I love him. I love him so much.

Always,

Amy

___________________

Shadow closed the door to the house and walked outside for a breath of fresh air. Two days had passed since he had read her diary entry, and things were starting to become clearer to him.

In all of his brooding, he never considered that she might actually care for him. He always assumed that he was only a friend to her, and not anything… more. That she would love this broken, twisted fool he had become.

But…

… he is not defined by names, by appearances, by what he was originally meant for. I hope he learns that it’s about who he is, deep inside.

Shadow had asked Rouge who she thinks he is. Rouge, knowing that he wanted a straight answer, simply smiled at him and chuffed him on the shoulder.

“You’re my best friend, dummy.” She laughed and leaned on his shoulder. “You have been, ever since you saved me from blowing up into pieces.”

“I wasn’t going to let you die. It would have impeded the mission.”

“You know that isn’t true.” Rouge wrapped a hand around his arm and pulled him in for a little side hug. “You didn’t have to run across an island to come and save me. But you did. You know why?”

“Because I’m a glutton for punishment.” Shadow quipped, seeing the joke work as Rouge threw her head back and laughed.

“Because you have a good heart, Honey.” Rouge stepped back and pointed at his chest. “You might be a bit unorthodox, but you care. Now you gotta go make things right with Pinkie.”

Shadow left the house soon after that conversation. He needed to walk, to clear his head, to think of how to apologize. He knew he had no right to lie to Amy like he did, and to say those hurtful things. He could have handled the situation better.

He scoffed at himself.

He could have handled a lot of things better.

But then, an idea came to him. Shadow grinned. Amy was always into big, romantic gestures. But he didn’t have to go too big, or make a spectacle of himself. No, he could do big gestures in small packages.

Not long after, a single rose was left on Amy’s front door, with a note taped to the stem.

Amy-

I’m sorry. Please forgive me.

-Shadow

The next day, Amy would find another flower sitting on a windowsill in her kitchen. She had placed a pie there for it to cool, and when she came back to check on it, she saw another rose with a note taped to it.

Amy-

I always thought you were as beautiful as your namesake.

-Shadow

All week, Amy would find roses in the most unlikely of places. In her mailbox, on her walk through a park, hanging out with Tails. All with small, handwritten notes designed to make her smile.

Amy-

Your smile is contagious. It never fails to make anyone feel better.

-Shadow

Even after she had called him on the phone and accepted his apology, the flowers kept appearing.

Amy-

Thank you for your forgiveness. I promise to never take it in vain.

-Your Shadow

Amy-

You looked wonderful today. Even the sun paled in comparison to you.

-Your Shadow

Lovely Amy,

Thank you for the smile today. It was exactly what I needed to make my day better.

-Your Shadow

Shadow watched sometimes, from a distance, as she found another rose. She would glow. She would always hug the flower first, do a little dance, then read the note. Then she would hug the flower again, spin in a little circle, and smile so wide that he knew it had to hurt her face. It never failed to make the heart in his chest beat madly.

He decided it was time to make the next move.

______________

Two days passed without a rose. He knew it was disappointing to Amy, but Shadow had his reasons. He needed to wait for just a little bit longer.

The park was quiet that day, which suited Shadow just fine. Rouge gave him a heads up on the time to be there. He knew he would have to thank her properly one of these days, but Rouge seemed happy to help him.

Shadow watched in the darkness of the trees as Amy, Rouge, Cream and Tails set up a blanket on the ground. Amy placed a picnic basket on top of it and laughed as Cream excitedly stepped forward to help. For a few minutes, he watched as the friends all snacked on lunch and talked. He watched Amy as she served everyone, as she drank from her thermos, as she smiled at her friends.

Eventually, Rouge tapped Tails on the shoulder and motioned to somewhere in the distance. The ice cream truck was just happening to be ‘passing through’, and soon the bat had taken the two youngest in the group to buy ice cream. Amy offered to help, but Rouge waved her away and followed Tails and Cream.

It was time. He moved quickly.

Amy leaned back on her hands, content in watching her friends laughing at all the colorful choices of ice cream they could get. When she felt something underneath one hand, she gave a start, and looked down.

The smile that blossomed on her face made Shadow blush. She went through her normal routine. She smiled, hugged the rose, then read the note.

Behind you.

This time, she didn’t dance. Instead, she re-read the note and looked behind her. Seeing him in the privacy of the trees, Amy immediately turned and rummaged through her picnic basket. After a moment, she stood up, turned to where he was standing, and calmly walked over.

Shadow smiled at Amy as she approached.

Amy stopped about a foot away from him, hands behind her back, and she grinned at him. Shadow felt her warmth envelope him, smelled her natural floral scent, and knew it was time to tell her.

“Amy-”

Suddenly, she held out her hand, the note he had given her trapped between two fingers. Her eyes held a mischievous glint in them. Deciding to play along, Shadow took the note from her, and opened it carefully.

Kiss me?

Those two words were written underneath his.

With no more hesitation, Shadow stepped into Amy’s arms, and leaned in.

The End!

A/N: Oh hell yeah I went with a rom-com ending! I can’t tell you how many movies I watched in the early 00s that ended with a kiss XD

#fanfic #ao3 fanfic #amy rose #shadow the hedgehog #shadamy #shadowxamyweek2025 #rated g

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