#Couldn’t stay awake and was dragged back into the loop

[arlo-venn]

Now that marijuana is fully out of my system, the night terrors and getting trapped in nightmare loops for entire irl days at a time and the waking up kicking and screaming has returned! 🤠 And so far they’ve all been about the family that I am entirely estranged from for very good reasons 🤠 And my tics and waking seizures are making a come back! I’m having a lot of fun! 🤠

[silv3rswirls]

soft moments with seventeen

Note: Happy Valentine's day everyone <3

♡Seungcheol♡

When you’re running late for work in the morning, darting around the apartment frantically trying to get yourself together. Seungcheol watches, holding your lunch and waiting by the door so you don’t forget it. You finally get to the door, stuffing your shoes on in a hurry, your coat hanging off one shoulder and your bag’s strap twisted and bunched up. He stops you, very calmly telling you to take a moment and breath before leaving. You do, and he takes your bag from you. He straightens up your coat, buttons it up for you, and loops your scarf around your neck. It’s freezing out, part of the reason you’re late as you couldn’t drag yourself out of bed. Carefully he puts your bag back on and pauses to sweep your hair wispies from your face. Seungcheol presses a quick kiss on your forehead, and the two of you share a smile before you leave.

♡Jeonghan♡

It's early, way too early for you to even consider dragging yourself out of bed, but Jeonghan was wide awake and in the process of getting ready to leave for an early schedule. You’re still cuddled in bed, having wrapped all the blankets tight around your body now that Jeonghan is gone. You can hear him walking around, the water in the bathroom running, his alarm going off for a third time and him rushing to silence it for you. You were dead tired, hardly able to open your eyes but for some reason, you could never fall asleep until Jeonghan left. The bed dips beside you, and his arms trap you in place despite knowing you are too sleepy to try and playfully getaway. You hear him softly saying his goodbyes, turning your head and pinching your cheeks until you open your eyes and smile. He kisses your forehead, then your cheek, and leaves a few rushed ones against your face before leaving.

♡Joshua♡

You’re pressed against him in the back of the car. Your head resting on his shoulder and your bottom lip trembling as you try to hold your tears in until you get home. But you still had fifteen minutes and traffic was getting worse; your throat was burning and your eyes overflowing with warm tears. You feel Joshua press his fingers into your hair, brushing through it, down to rub your back and press you closer. He was silently encouraging you to cry after the long, hard day you had gone through. You didn’t want to, but couldn’t help it as you sniffled and let the tears fall. He stays quiet, not wanting to draw the driver's attention anymore to you. He doesn’t need to say anything though, you feel comforted as he rubs your back and drags his thumb over your cheek to wipe the tears away.

♡Jun♡

You were so tired, so worn out from working that day. Your boyfriend had greeted you with your favorite takeout when you got home and afterward had drawn a bath for you. You were enjoying the hot water, your tense muscles trying to relax as you recounted all the things that went wrong at work to Jun, who listened quietly. He hums in response, his fingers working in your shampoo as he washed your hair for you. He had offered, quick to attend to your hair the moment you let him. His hands scratch and massage your scalp, dropping down to massage your shoulders now and again. You lean into his touch, smiling and thanking him for being extra sweet. He grins and tells you he’d do it every night if you wanted.

♡Hoshi♡

If there’s one thing Soonyoung does on a daily basis; it's cling to you. He can’t help it, he just wants to be close to you, touching you in some way. He isn’t even aware of it most times. Grabbing your hand absentmindedly while shopping, resting against you while in the car or at home relaxing. Wrapping his arms around your waist and following you around the kitchen. He comes home one evening, tired and a bit blue over how busy he had been this week. He hardly got to see you. You were lounging on the sofa, tapping and scrolling away on your phone when he came in, he kicked his shoes off and came trudging in. He greets you tiredly, immediately crawling onto the sofa, laying on top of you, and resting his head on your chest. Neither of you says much, he closes his eyes and listens to you breathe, and ask about his day. His arms lock around you and his nestles closer, neither of you will be getting up anytime soon.

♡Wonwoo♡

Wonwoo huffs and turns the tv off, finally dragging himself out of his gaming session for the night. He looks around, the room almost eerily quiet now that he logged off. He looks around, spotting you on the sofa behind him, hair wet and wrapped in a blanket as you absentmindedly brushed it, your mind wandering. He moves to sit next to you, tilting his head and reaching to brush the hair from your face. It draws you out of your daydream, leaving a smile on your face as he runs his fingers through your wet locks. “Let me” he gently takes the brush, adjusting his sitting position to be more comfortable as he focuses on the cluster of tangles in your hair. He apologizes quietly every time he pulls too hard, but you don’t mind. You lean into him, enjoying the feeling as he tenderly brushes your hair; leaving you with a kiss on top of your head when he’s finished.

♡Woozi♡

It had been a rough few weeks for the both of you. He’d been busier than usual at the studio; if that was even possible. While you both understood the demands of his job, it seemed lately it was taking a heavier toll on you. But today, by some delightful little miracle, you had gotten to take the day off at the last minute and Jihoon had just finished the biggest chunk of his work. You come by the studio, lunch made just for him in hand as you enter. You squeeze him in a hug and share the food. You laugh, sitting with him on the sofa and picking at your lunch; more interested in listening and watching Jihoon than eating. He has a little something for you, something he had caught you eyeing at the mall about a month ago but wouldn’t buy for yourself. He had saved a note of it in his phone and thought now would be a good time to surprise you with it. He's all smiles watching you open it, the food forgotten as you once again dive back into lighthearted conversation.

♡Dokyeom♡

You both have a day off, and Seokmin plans to make the most of it. He spends extra time in bed that morning, trapping you in his arms and taking his time waking up and cuddling you. You make breakfast together, he sits next to you and feeds you little bites of his food as you eat. He can’t help it, he wants to be by your side all day. Do everything together, even the mundane chores and running errands. At the end of the night, he’s a bit sad at the thought of having to go back to work tomorrow. He’s in bed with you, sulking but still wasting no time in pulling you in for some affection. Your voices mesh together as you giggle and promise you’ll still have plenty of time for each other despite your schedules. He nods, still pouty and really hamming it for more affection from you, you oblige of course, until his lulling to sleep under your touch.

♡Mingyu♡

Mingyu’s arms are locked around your waist, his head pressed into the crook of your neck. You're stuck sitting on the edge of the bed, he’s hugging you and about to fall asleep against your shoulder again. He doesn’t want you to leave, he’s begging you to call off work and just stay in bed with him all day. You try to wiggle free, but he hangs on tight and pulls you back onto the bed with him. You topple over, a mess of limbs as he rolls over with you and traps you once again. You have to leave soon, but he’s so convincing with how he nuzzles into your neck and murmurs for you to stay with him. 

♡Minghao♡

You weren’t even sure how Minghao and you had gotten here. He was holding your hand, massaging lotion into your skin gently. The hair dryer he had been using was left forgotten on the counter. He’s focused on you, rubbing up your arm before moving to the other hand. You bite back little laughs, his fingers tickling your palm as he gets back to massaging. He’s about to keep pampering you, but you stop him to finish drying his hair. He plots how he’s going to get back to focusing on you as you comb through his hair and dry it, carefully brushing and parting it the way he wants as he closes his eyes and takes in the sensations. When you finish he lets his head drop against your chest, leaning into you as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and press kisses against his cheek. 

♡Seungkwan♡

It's early, and your bedroom is a bit chilly as you whine for Seungkwan to get up and turn the heat up. He’s been awake longer already, relaxing in bed as you toss and turn, snuggling into him and snoozing the morning away. He complains and tells you to do it yourself a few times before giving in and turning it up for you. He comes back with another blanket, tucking you back in and letting you sleep in as he starts to get ready for the day. It's his day off, neither of you has anything to do. Normally he’d be pushing you out of bed by now, but your night had been long and emotional. You’d been up late crying, letting emotions spill over after bottling them up for so long. After he was done, Seungkawn came back to sit beside you. He watches you sleep, brushes your hair away, and makes sure you're nice and warm.

♡Vernon♡

He’s dead asleep despite it being midday. The curtains are open, the sun beaming in as you get home. You smile at the sight, he’s dead asleep, unaware of the world around him as he only shifts slightly when you hop onto the bed next to him. You decided to join him, pressed into his side and throwing an arm over his stomach. Later that evening, as he wakes up he finds you twisted uncomfortably in the covers, shifting with him as he sits up and tries to fix the blankets for you. He’s quiet, focused on you as he settles back down to go back to bed, opening his arms and letting you cuddle up to him this time. Neither of you had spoken a word to each other the rest of the night, simply content to lazy around and waste the night away cuddling and sleeping.

♡Dino♡

His nose scrunches when you drop the terrible news on him; at least, hearing that you haven’t eaten all day is among some of the worst news he could hear. He’s scolding you, pulling you towards the kitchen, and making you sit at the counter and wait for him to prepare something for you. He sits with you, not eating as he’s already had dinner with the boys before leaving the company. He’s taking the chopsticks from you every chance he gets, feeding you himself until he’s satisfied. All evening he’s coming back with snacks for you to share, always checking on you to make sure you’re feeling okay, want something else or some water. 

[desublimitate]

« As long as you come home at the end of the day »

➻ synopsis: Geto has been struggling with his mental health, being a curse eater is slowly breaking him as is his loss of hope in the sorcerers society. The only comfort he can find is in the arms of his roommate

➻ word count: 2000 words

➻ tags: Geto X Reader(gender neutral), hurt/comfort, fluff, sleeping together, dorm

➻ warnings: safe for minors, mentions of mental distress, eating disorders and self harm

A house is like a heart: it has rooms and hallways.

And a house can rot and fall apart, just like hearts can break and shatter.

You could breathe the decay and the despair everytime you stepped into your academy room.

It took weeks to convince old Yaga to let you and Suguru share dorms, for you just couldn’t bare the idea of him locked away with his thoughts. He wasn’t the same since the last mission, everyone could tell.

The Suguru Geto that agreed on protecting that girl for the noble Tengen wasn’t the same that came back. It seemed like he kept seeing her dying before his eyes over and over on loop.

You could hear him scream at night, when he got woken by the recurring nightmare that was haunting him: he kept hearing the gunshot, the smile freezing on that girl face before going blank.

Her body falling like a rag at his feet. He couldn’t save her, he was there with his hand stretched to grab hers and yet he saw the young life and all the future hopes leaving her eyes when the lights went out. He came back to the academy dragging shadows and curses like chains around his ankles.

For a moment he believed that he lost Gojo as well, but Satoru always rose back up, and that seemed to be what broke him.

Gojo was invincible, you could slash his body and he would still rise stronger than before, that young girl didn’t even have a chance, she couldn’t even fight for her life.

She didn’t even notice her life ending, while Gojo Satoru wasted his privilege with his pride.

There was nothing to be proud of, Geto thought, it was easy for Gojo to chant his own glorious gests when he wasn’t there when an innocent, lonely and defenceless girl’s brain matter got splattered on his uniform.

Gojo wasn’t there.

Geto was, and when they came back, there was a spark in his hazel eyes that it wasn’t there before.

A spark of resentment.

The door slammed and you thanked all the gods that would listen to your prayers for that sound of cracking wood, for each crack meant that Suguru came back home. One day more, that was all you begged for, just one day more everyday, one crack more on the door.

‘Just come back home to me’.

-Suguru?-

He didn’t reply, his feet were dragging on the floor.

Your eyelids were as heavy as ever and dark circles were forming under your eyes for all the nights you spent awake waiting for him to return from a daily mission or just for staying at his side during those nightmares.

Screams, sweat and chills, you wished there was a way for all of it to stop, but the best you could do was being there, being his safe haven at the end of the day, when Suguru embraced your waist you knew that your physical contact was the only anchor he had to remain sane.

You heard the shower opening, warm steam coming out of the bathroom so you decided to step out of bed, your guts just knew that that night something was different. Suguru’s black wide trousers and his jacket were abandoned on the floor, his shoes upside down.

That night must have gone worse than before.

-Suguru...-

The scene displayed before your eyes was heart-wrenching.

Suguru Geto, one of the strongest sorcerers ever existed, was kneeling on the floor, his arms up on the wall while scorching hot water rained on him. His skin was reddening, burning.

You could count his ribs and see his spine, he had lost so much weight in the last weeks it started worrying the headmaster.

He was trying to let himself die, Geto was starving himself and burning his skin hoping at some point his body would give up, and so it would all come to an end.

You rushed towards him, closing the shower, crying his name –Suguru!- As you lift him from his underarms, it doesn’t matter how tall he is compared to you he lost all his towering appeal.

There is nothing more heart-breaking than seeing a god lose faith in himself.

When someone infinite and might like Suguru Geto collapsed, you swore you felt the Earth stopping its rotation.

He grabbed your arms, his long delicate fingers wrapping them whole, he held on to you as you kneeled in front of him, you just couldn’t care less about getting your night clothes wet. He didn’t make a sound, his beautiful eyes were wide open who knows where. Who knows what they saw, you wished you could see through his eyes, so that he could share his sorrows and didn’t have to carry all the weight of his world on his shoulders. You wished you could take all that pain through Geto’s touch.

-I’m here, you are safe. Suguru, you are safe-

Your forehead touched his and some raven strings of hair fell on his face, only for you to tuck back behind his ear

–You are safe- You kept repeating –Nothing can hurt you now, it’s all over. I’m so proud of you, you have been amazing, Suguru-

What world were you living in, if it allowed Geto’s beauty to fade? Roses died in winter but with the new Sun they would open their buds again, you weren’t sure whether your Geto’s beauty would reflorish.

Your mind travelled to Satoru’s room, was he also in the shower? Was he perhaps singing himself songs while savouring another victory? Was he already in dream land safe from nightmares? Did he even notice Suguru’s breaking next to him? No, Gojo could never know what it felt like, what it tasted like. Gojo could never know what it felt like living with curses flowing in your system, mixing with your stomach juices, their aftertaste forever printed in your saliva. Breathing the taste of curses as you woke in the morning.

No, the perfect son of the Gojo clan, the Six Eyes child only knew light, darkness was left for those lesser of him.

-Tell me what can I do, please. Just say something, I beg you- Suguru’s brown eyes blinked for the first time

–Stay- His voice hoarse, venom eating his throat.

-I’m here, Suguru. I am not going anywhere. We can stay here all night long if you need it, but I’m not letting you burn yourself-

Geto coughed –I feel them on my skin, I want to burn them, they are on me walking all over me like roaches- His pupils stretched like needles.

You caressed his back, his soft skin, flawless and pale. You traced galaxies with his beauty spots and his scars

–I promise you there is nothing on you, I would never let them touch you, your skin is untouched. You will catch a cold if you stay wet for too long, here, let me help you- Slowly you stood up, following the pace of Geto’s long legs.

He hunched and almost crushed you with his weight when let out a loud cry, one of those cries that hurt your chest.

Geto screamed with his head on your shoulder, the power of his cry made your skin shiver, like vibrations on water. As Geto finally lets go of all his pain, you took the chance of damping his silky black hair with a soft towel.

It smelled of clean, of talcum, warm from the washing machine just for his return.

-It’s so soft, isn’t it?- You comforted him, caressing his head, making sure no spot of his huge body remained wet.

For a moment, you believed you sensed him nod.

-I got your favourite pajamas too, do you want to try laying down?- This time you clearly felt his forhead nod on your shoulder.

You held Geto’s hands walking him back to the bedroom, like a child afraid of monsters under his bed. Only that Geto had monsters in his insides.

-Lift your arms- He didn’t reply, just obeyed as he let you dress him for the night. Once he would have filled that white t-shirt, but as you passed his arms through it, you realized that it’s now bigger of at least three sizes. Geto was disappearing in his clothes.

-If there is anything, literally anything, that you feel comfortable eating, I would fly to the other side of the world to grab it for you, okay?-

Suguru sat on the bed, let himself fall on the back. -You don’t have to do all of this, it’s only a burden- Said Suguru, ashamed to look at your face.

-Look, if it was a burden, I would have stopped long ago-

-Why are you even doing all of this? You are barely sleeping-

-Why do you think I’m doing it?- He knew the answer, because that’s the same answer he would give.

-I am having very dark thoughts, you know?-

-And you know that you can share all of them with me, I won’t run away-

-I’m afraid that if I told you, or Satoru, bad things would happen- You cuddled up, crossing your legs with his and hugging his side

–I don’t know Satoru as good as you do, he is an arrogant prick but I don’t believe he is stupid, he just needs his six eyes opened sometimes. I am sure he would understand. I would understand. There is absolutely nothing in the world that you could say that would make me run away from you, Suguru Geto-

He smiled and kissed your nose –Never ever?-

You rubbed your nose against his, straight and perfect –Never ever. I love you, Suguru. In good and bad times-

-Now that sounds like a wedding vow- Geto smirked.

-Well at least it brightened you up!-

-I’m sorry I’m putting this on you, I promise it will stop-

Your fingers were playing with his hair –I don’t need any apologise, as long as you come home to me at the end of the day, in whatever shape you do, I will be welcoming you with open arms, warm towels and soft blankets-

Geto nudged his head on your chest, his favourite sleep position, his arms as always around your waist –Don't you ever think that there could be a way to stop all of this? The curses, everything-

You kissed his head, didn’t reply.

-I wonder if it will be ever enough, what we do? If what we are doing isn’t actually useless and we are just wasting time and powers? Sorcerers are dying but spirits and curses keep growing in number. I don’t think I like this world, my love-

-I don’t like this world either. I don’t like a world that swallows his strongest sons. I don’t like a world that forces you to eat its curses. Of course I think of a way to put all of this to an end. I think about it everytime you leave, not knowing if you will return to me, and everytime I see you crying and scratching your throat at night. If I could end this for you, I would have done it long ago-

Geto raised his head, on his face there is a surprised expression –If I found a way, it would make the sorcerers society collapse, we would lose this-

-Remember these words: I love you, Suguru Geto, and I would follow you to the end of the world, I would sacrifice this wretched world if I was sure that I could stay like this, with you in my arms. I love you, even the darkness you carry. You are not alone, you are never alone. Come back to me, Suguru Geto. Your smiles, your wittiness. I miss all of this, if this world stole you from me I would come and find you in the pits of hell. Come back to me, Suguru-

By the time you finished talking, Geto’s breathe was heavier and regular, on your chest. He was breathing on you, almost giving you life through his own cursed oxygen. His forehead was relaxed so you kissed it one last time. -I love you, Geto-

[dylan-hart]

⸻stressed out

summary: Exams are coming up and you are stressed out. Luckily, your girlfriends are there to make sure you take care of yourself.

pairing: Enid Sinclair x GN!reader x Wednesday Addams

warning(s): reader not taking care of themself properly, mentions of not eating

word count: 611

Exams were coming up and that meant you were stressed, twenty four seven, every day of the week. Your sleep schedule suffered and so did your health but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, the only thought of “just one more day” ringing on loop in your head as your eyes stung and burned for sleep, even when you found your hands shaking as you practiced problem after problem to study for your exams.

Your perfectionist tendencies were kicked into high drive, causing you to lose track of time but you payed no mind to it, even when you started your work when you got back from your classes and you blinked, finding yourself having to pack up for the morning that suddenly came again.

Dark bags were under your eyes and your clothes were slightly too big than normal and your hands were constantly shaking, a can of energy drink or a coffee cup always with you whereever you went.

You weren’t aware of this, weren’t aware of the effect it had on you.

But Wednesday and Enid knew. They saw your feet drag against the ground, saw the way you would almost fall asleep in classes, saw the way you lost more and more weight as the time went by.

They finally decided to confront you on it as it didn’t get better within a week.

They found you in your dorm room, hovered over your desk after classes, a text book open in front of you and multiple papers scattered around and empty energy drink cans and coffee cups littering the place.

“(Y/n)…” Enid trailed off, taking in the disaster of your room.

You jolted, whipping around to stare at them. “Hey, guys.”

Wednesday crossed the floor to you, taking in your raggedly appearance, at the dark circles under your eyes and the way you would blink slowly at her, forcing yourself to stay awake. “You look awful, mi amor.”

Enid came up to her side, reaching out and grabbing your shoulder as you slumped slightly, wavering in place. “What she means is that you look like you need a good nap.”

Wednesday scoffed but didn’t deny it.

You shook your head. “I can’t.” You glanced over at the papers on your desk. “I need to study for these exams.”

“You’ve been studying for the whole week,” Wednesday said, grabbing your chin and tilting your head back towards her and Enid. “You will excel your exams, mi amor. What you need right now is rest.”

“And some food,” Enid added.

“I’ve ate,” you countered.

“Really?” Wednesday drawled. “When?”

You opened your mouth but paused. Your jaw clacked shut as you found yourself unable to remember when you had anything other than coffee or energy drinks.

“(Y/n), baby,” Enid whispered, running her fingers through your hair. “Please take care of yourself.”

Your throat tightened but you nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“We know,” Wednesday said, thumb tracing under your eye. “But you’re taking a break so you can eat and then rest.” You slumped into her hold and she caught you easily. “Enid—”

“Already calling Yoko to bring us food,” Enid interrupted, shooting her a smile.

“Thank you, mon chiot,” Wednesday said. She shifted and suddenly picked you up, bringing you over to your bed, setting you down gently. “We will wake you when the food arrives. Sleep for now, mi amor.”

Your eyes finally fluttered shut just as the feeling of your girlfriends climbing in the bed on either side of you registered in your mind.

Safe to say you would never forget to take care of yourself, not with Enid and Wednesday by your side.

[honeysunai]

Hostess| Kyoya Ootori x reader

Part ten - Under the Mistletoe

Pairing : Kyoya Ootori x reader

General rating : Fluff, enemies to love vibes

Word count : 3k

Author's note : I will be keeping the old aesthetic for this story, sorry for people who like the new aesthetic of my newer one shots. Also, clearly, this was meant to be a Christmas special, but we are in September and I kind of wanted to wait until December, but I've been holding off for months, so here it is and I do hope you enjoy this part. As always, have an amazing day and stay hydrated!

Summary: As only heir to your family you are bound to an arrange marriage with the third son of the powerful house Ootori. His cold behavior is only a mask for you to uncover when you stumble into music room number three. 

You jolted awake like you’ve done for the past ten days. Your mind was racing and your heart was pounding. You couldn’t stop thinking about Kyoya and what he did so shamelessly to you. The memory of Kyoya's shameless actions consumed you, a relentless loop that replayed with vivid intensity. He had acted without a shred of hesitation, unburdened by remorse, leaving an indelible mark on your consciousness and your body. Your thighs clenched together and your face turns red at the thought of Kyoya back between your legs. 

It was short and passionate, he kissed you more afterwards and refused to give in to your pleasure to return the favor to him. To your displeasure, he refused and reminded you that this “deal” between you is only physical and he didn’t need you that night. The day after he had put back the wall he put between you and barely spoke to you and you did the same by ignoring him for all the next ten days.  No matter how hard you try to get him off your mind and ignore him, the second you close your eyes you can only think about him and what you wish he would do to you. 

All that daydreaming is costing you some A’s on your papers and you won’t settle for less!

This wasn’t you! You were so confused as to why you dreamt so much about him! You used to despise him and his shitty attitude and now you were sexually dreaming of him… Get a grip! You couldn’t lose to him either, you said you won’t fall in love with him, he’s just a high school crush… A crush… You couldn’t possibly have a crush on Kyoya Ootori? He’s a stupid teenager and you are so much more than a teenager that has a crush. You’re independent, you’re talented, intelligent and pretty. 

You went to your mirror to get ready and pointed at your reflection with a twisted expression. “You have to despise him again.” You grunt. “You don’t love him, you lust after him which is not better, but it’s temporary.” 

Under the chilling water, you braced yourself for the day ahead, feeling the exhaustion seep from your bones. It was shaping up to be another one of those rough days. After the shower, you reluctantly checked your agenda, and there it was, like a punch to the gut – an exam last period. Groaning, you realized the day wasn't going to cut you any slack. With a sigh, you steeled yourself for the challenge, hoping you'd find the energy to tackle it when the time came.

You’ve managed to survive two periods before Kyoya dragged you into an empty music room, his lips glued to yours. His gentle hands cupped your cheeks, tilting your head upward to part your perfect lips so his tongue can meet yours. 

As your lips meet in a deliberate, unhurried rhythm, time seems to pause, allowing every tender sensation to unfurl. The warmth of Kyoya’s breath mingles with yours, creating an electric current that courses through your body. The gentle exploration of lips and tongues is a language of desire, each movement deliberate and sensuous. Every touch is deliberate, sensuous, and in those stolen moments, it's like you're wrapped up in this emotional symphony. The world outside just kind of disappears, and all that's left is this mix of vulnerability and desire hanging in the air. It's intense, like you're caught up in something so much bigger than just a kiss.

You broke the kiss first and his eyes searched yours with this lust that glimmered in them. 

You whisper while looking up at him.  “I can’t keep doing this.” 

He huffs. “What do you mean?”

“We only kiss when you want it, not when I want to.” You tell him. “I try to do it at school and you kind of… do not reciprocate until you want me.”

“Because it’s fun to see you turn red. If you want my attention you’ll have to try harder y/n.” He smiles softly, seeing you didn’t find it funny he continued. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way.” That was the least you’d expect from him. You were quite shocked in all honesty. 

“I want to make a new rule to our arrangement. We can’t kiss or anything until the end of the winter exams.”

“That’s a whole month, you sure you want to risk it?”

She huffs. “Risk what?”

“Miss me.” He smirks. “Miss my touch.” He whispers leaning closer to your ear. “Miss my tongue.��� You push him away.

“I’ll be fine. I’m not that desperate.” You roll your eyes at him.

“You're willing to go to great lengths to prove a point; I respect that," he chuckles. "But don't come running back when you start feeling those butterflies right here." He licks his lips as his hand trails down your lower belly. "And find yourself needing me to deal with it."

All that gentleness and kindness was now gone. “Don’t flatter yourself.” 

“Aw.” He clutched at his heart with a playful smile. “Fine. I agree to your terms, we’ll wait after the final exams. We wouldn’t want your grades to be worse than they already are.”

“They are not THAT bad.” You roll your eyes again. “Besides, it’s only a slip up and you know it.”

“It's because you can’t stop thinking about me, is it?”

“You wish.” You bark back before leaving the classroom to go study on your break.

That damn idiot.

The first snow finally arrived and you were so happy, it was the middle of december and you were ecstatic. You and the Club decided to take your little club activities outside on a beautiful day like that. It wasn’t too cold, nor too hot, just the perfect temperature for you to be able to roam around the campus without freezing to death. You were walking with Haruhi and Renge arms intertwined together laughing at Renge’s behavior towards something Asahi said earlier that day. She was red with anger and told you how stupid that boy was and blah blah blah… You and Haruhi couldn’t help but roll your eyes and her poor attempt to conceal her attraction to that guy. 

Around you, the girls were gawking at the three of you hanging out together, seeing how fond you are for one of another made their heart melt. You realized a few months ago how easy it is to make them fall for false charm… or just being yourself. 

You can see on the ground two shadows behind you and you smirk to yourself as you duck an incoming snowball. 

“How did you know?” Hikaru gasps. 

You smirk. “You can’t outwin a snowball fighter champion.”

“Is there such a thing?” Haruhi asks, not entirely convinced and she was right to do so. It was a shit title you just had invented to make the twins busy up in their mind for you to catch the heavy snow, form it into a ball and throw it at Kaoru’s face. 

“You–!” He gasps as you duck to get another one in which you failed to hit the boy another time with the snowball and it was too late… he tackled you to the ground. You yelp as his heavy weight carried you to the ground, but never crushed you as he was holding himself up. You can hear soft giggles and gasp from some of your guests at this incident.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. You chuckle at this embarrassing situation. Suddenly, someone shadowed the both of you. A strong hand gripped Kaoru’s collar and yanked him with ease off of you. The very same hand helped you stand up on your feet. You look up to see Kyoya’s harsh gaze on the twin. 

“Tackling a defenseless girl is not very nice is it not, Kaoru?”

“I wasn’t defenseless.” You mumbled under your breath. The boys were all confused as to why he was defending you openly in front of everyone. He rolled his eyes at your comment.

“It was all in good fun.” He replies winking at you and that owed him a snowball to the face by none other than Kyoya who had a shiteating grin glued on his face. “It’s on four eyes!” Kaoru yells picking up snow and throwing it directly at him and yet, it hits you. Kyoya used you as his personal meat shield. 

“Using a defenseless girl as a meat shield is not very nice is it not, Kyoya?” You barked at him and before another snowball hit you, he grabbed your arms and made you duck with him. 

“Less talking, more fighting.” He adds and you both grabbed a bunch of snow throwing it at the twins, which hit Tamaki and his guests further behind and you giggled at his blushed angry face. 

“Don’t forget about us!” Honey yells as he, Mori and Haruhi join the battle.

It was free for all, everyone was at each other's throats, there were no rules. Dirty tricks, playing safe, anything was on the table. Kaoru was mostly running away from Kyoya as he was chasing him and you running away from Hikaru and Honey as they swore you were their enemy. You were covered from head to toe with snow, you grew cold, but you wouldn’t admit defeat… Never would you admit defeat.

Kyoya was about to throw one at you, with the biggest smirk on his face. Before he could even throw it, Tamaki and Mori used a large empty flower pot filled with snow and dumped it on your opponent. You could keep your giggles in as his ego took a punch. Your laugh was loud and ugly at best, but it sounded melodious to Kyoya as he had made you laugh, a true one.

The bell finally rang and it was all over. “I guess that makes these two the winners of this fight.” You say between two giggles. Kyoya and Hikaru both wrapped one arm over each shoulder and dragged you inside with the rest of the group following you.

Tamaki, Kyoya, Honey, Mori and you were all sitting in the same class and the teacher could tell you were all playing outside by the way you were disheveled and face flushed from the cold. A smile was glued on your face as you felt Kyoya gazing at the back of your messy hair.

You kept ignoring Kyoya for the next month, burying yourself in books at school, at home, and even in your dreams. The grind of studying became a monotonous escape, but it couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was off. You couldn't shake the fact that you were shutting out Kyoya completely. The silence between you two weighed heavy on your mind, and even as you immersed yourself in equations and facts, it felt like you were losing something more than just time. The sacrifice of connection for academic gains started to seem like a questionable trade-off. You missed him? No. You’re not that desperate that you miss Kyoya. 

Tomorrow was your last exam before the Christmas break and you were thinking how excited you were to be done with it. You were in bed with your phone in your hands and texted Kyoya, but he was faster than you.  

Good luck tomorrow, goblin shark.

You crack a smile and respond quickly.

I changed my mind… You’re a sunfish. Good luck, Kyoya.

The final bell rang and she could cry tears of joy. You were done with your exams and could finally relax. You took your time to pick up your stuff as you reminisced about the last month and a half and how hard you’ve worked on your studies and how hard it was to actually ignore Kyoya. 

At first it was easy, he became this cold wall of ice as he was before you started school here and slowly it became harder when you two had to meet for a monthly dinner with both families. That night you sat side by side at dinner and his hand was on you the entire time. His slender fingers tracing circles on your thigh, his hand trailing up under your skirt just for you to want, no, need more. After that dinner, you came home like an absolute mess. You were angry at him and yet you only wanted him closer. When you came back to school, you avoided him like the plague no matter how close you two were sitting in class. 

After finally finishing packing your bag, your cheeks still warm from the lingering memories of dinner, you stepped out of the classroom. There was one last thing you needed from the music room before heading home.

The hallways were empty as you entered the music room, moving toward the secret trunk where you kept some of the eccentric costumes Tamaki always insisted you wear. You were so absorbed in whatever was on your phone that you didn’t even notice someone approaching—until you felt a hand pull you swiftly into the empty dressing room. You were about to yell at whoever dragged you, but were cut off by familiar lips crashing into yours. The soft groan that escaped his mouth made her knees grow weak. 

“The exams are over.” He whispers between kisses. “I’ve been patient, but I need this, I need you. Please let me have this.” Was he begging? You dropped your bag and lightly pushed him to the wall behind him, the mirror directly on both of them. 

You had the upper hand whether he liked it or not. And you were going to take advantage of it.

“We will do this my way.“ your fingers graze over his clothed erection — his hips buck up into your touch, “Or we won’t be doing anything at all,” he hisses, as a giggle escapes your lips. “What will it be?” You’re dragging the fabric down his hips, freeing his cock, your eyes nearly hypnotized by the slight of it, thick beads of precum dripping from the slit, before your gaze finds his again, softening.

“Your way.” He breathes and you drop to your knees, your fingers find their way around the base of his cock, drawing a ragged gasp from his lips, before you lean down and flick your tongue against his leaking tip.

Your tongue drags a thick stripe up his cock, before beginning to trace along one of his veins, your fingers slipping up to use his pre to rub up and down his length. Your thumb teases his slit, and a hiss leaves his lips, a smirk against his dick. 

“Fuck…” He looks down at you, then back at the mirror, eyes half shut. You take a peek at the mirror and he would be your undoing, he looked like a mess. You've never seen him like this and it was so satisfying knowing that he was the one who came crawling.

He groans, when his tip brushes against your throat, his fingers finding your scalp to try and ease you off,  “Y/n–” He groans before he’s cumming down your throat, hot release painting your mouth. As soon as you were done, releasing him from your mouth he leaned down to kiss you again. It was needy, messy, but it was something you dreamt of no matter how pissed at him you were before.

He holds your jaw gently. "Don't do this to us, ever again." Us... She couldn't do this ever again, because she did miss his touch as much as he did and she was so close to give up may times, but her pride put her in place. She didn't have the proper words to answer him, so her lips found his once more.

— 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐬

✧ @gay-noble @vanicogh @hopeless-romanticnamed-s @idktbhloley @p1nkliquor @hellokittykuroo @batboob @kisskissshutmydoor @lemonrolls @hoku-killer @sunukissed @jessiegerl @lunalily19 @i7zha @asrainterstellar @arimoony24 @simp-lythebest @fan-g0rl​ @randobeetlehouse​​ @glomp-me @yeeyeebabe @maackiimoo @kaelysian @noendingtolove @luminaaz @thewendyslogo @eri0-0 @arielbillyboy16 @aangsupremacy​ @yuriklol​ @lillunna @lostsomewhereinthegarden @chocorenchin  @sukcama @bratb1tch @topmeyelena

[echo-goes-mmm]

Ambrose and Elliot #24

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: threats of non-con, threats of recapture

Elliot’s breath hitched and his heart stuttered. Fear buzzed under his skin like a swarm of bees.

He waited in the kitchen until he was absolutely certain Mr. Horneswood was upstairs and asleep.

He crept up the stairs and slipped into his room. He closed the door and locked it.

There was no way he was going to sleep in his bed. Too much of an invitation. He could hide in the closet, but then he wouldn’t be able to see him coming.

Sleeping at all was too much of a risk.

Elliot sat on the floor, back to the bed. He stared at the doorknob, waiting for it to rattle, waiting for Mr. Horneswood to burst through and take what had always been on offer before.

Two nights. One day.

He could stay awake. He must stay awake.

___________________

The bedroom was dangerous. It wasn’t clear to him before, but as he sat and waited, his eyes darted around in the shadows.

His beloved items and furniture provided hiding places, but they made it easier for him to be cornered.

He could be bent over his nightstand, pinned against the wardrobe, even the chest could be emptied and he could be shoved in and locked inside.

Elliot couldn’t stay in here, but it was the only place with a lock-

Oh.

Maybe Master Ambrose would let him upstairs? Mr. Horneswood wouldn’t dare hunt him down if he stayed up there.

But Ambrose would ask about it. What if he didn’t believe him?

Dawn approached as he thought in circles. By the time the light shined through the window, his bedroom had become as suffocating as a coffin.

He got up, and his vision went dark and blurry for a moment before clearing.

He unlocked the door, and slipped downstairs. There were chores to be done, no matter what he was feeling.

He bit his lip and glanced at the door across from his. It was still closed.

He breathed in and out. 

It might be fine. Elliot had a new master, and maybe, just maybe, Mr. Horneswood would realize there were different rules now. 

He went into the kitchen, and began to wash last night’s dishes.

___________________

“Good morning.”

He jumped, and turned to see Master on the steps. “Good morning, sir.”

Master Ambrose helped him gather up the decorations, winding the strung flowers into a nice loop before putting them away.

“I’m going to bring some more wood in, alright? We’re a little low. I’d appreciate it if you could sweep the floor. We’ll move the tables and chairs back after. And I think there’s some bacon in the larder if you haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“Yes, sir, thank you.” He watched Ambrose leave, the pit of dread in his stomach growing. He was too nauseated for rich bacon; and instead opted for a day-old biscuit and a bit of butter.

He grabbed the broom and moved to the far corner. There were lots of crumbs from last night that needed to be taken care of.

Elliot was lost in the work, making the floor clean and shiny, when somebody pressed up against him. He froze. Hands settled on his shoulders, squeezing.

“Hello,” purred Mr. Horneswood into his ear. “Isn’t this a pleasant surprise?”

Elliot whimpered, and Mr. Horneswood shifted to murmur into his other ear. “He looked for you, you know. For quite a while. I figured you’d died.”

Elliot twitched, but he couldn't bring himself to move away.

Mr. Horneswood traced a finger over his chest before suddenly gabbing his chin. “I’m going to drag your sorry ass back home.”

He mouthed at his ear, and Elliot shuddered. Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes.

“Maybe I’ll make you my little bitch tonight,” he mused. “Just us, before I have to share my favorite slut again.”

Oh gods, no-

“What reward do you think he’ll give me for bringing you home? I know, how about I get to-”

The back door slammed open, and Mr. Horneswood jumped away from him.

Elliot couldn’t look up from the floor, couldn’t bring himself to move. But Mr. Horneswood brushed past him, probably to get his own breakfast.

Ambrose didn’t come into the room, no matter how desperately he wished for him. 

Elliot kept sweeping.

___________________

When the kitchen half of the inn was opened for the day, Mr. Horneswood took great pleasure in ordering him around. 

He was nicer when Ambrose was in earshot, but his smug, satisfied face sent chills up his spine when Master was gone. 

“You look better now that you’re fed,” said Mr. Horneswood, as Elliot fetched him coffee. “At least your new master understands the importance of actually having an ass to grab. Too bad for you; that’ll change.”

Elliot looked away. “He- he doesn’t touch me,” he whispered. “It's not allowed.”

“No? All the better then. I look forward to how tight you’ll be.”

___________________

“Elliot? Could you help me with this?” Ambrose called from across the room.

Elliot grabbed the topmost box from him, and helped set the delivery on the counter. He could feel Horneswood’s eyes watching.

Ambrose disappeared down into the cellar.

“Look at you,” mocked Horneswood. “Even got yourself a new name. Do you want me to call you Elliot when I fuck you, or is ‘whore’ still on the table?”

Elliot said nothing. What did he mean by new name? He couldn’t remember having one before. His old master hadn’t given him one.

He bit his lip.

“At least get me some more water while you’re over there,” Horneswood ordered, snapping him out of his thoughts.

___________________

Finally, Ambrose went upstairs to pray, and Elliot made the excuse of cleaning the upstairs windows in order to follow him.

The door clicked behind him, and he locked it just to be sure. Ambrose looked up from the altar. 

“Is everything alright?”

“He’s going to hurt me,” he blurted, “He- I-” his breath came quick and shallow, and he struggled to catch it.

“Slow down love.” Ambrose crossed the room, hands on his shoulders. Elliot flinched away.

“I- I know him. From before.” Ambrose’s eyes went wide. 

“Are you certain?” Elliot nodded, desperate for him to understand.

“He- He said I was a- a slut and- and he was going to take me back, and-” his voice cracked. He gulped in air.

“He said he was going to make me his bitch. And so many other horrible things!” Please believe me, please believe me, please please please.

“Hush. Come with me.” Ambrose’s voice was tight and firm, and angry. Master turned on his heel and stalked into the bedroom.

Elliot followed him inside. Was he going to be punished?

Ambrose pulled the doors shut behind them, and the more layers of walls and doors between him and Horneswood the better. Even if Ambrose was going to beat him.

But instead, Ambrose pulled down a dagger and sheath from a hook on the wall. The hilt was a shiny thing, with gold and encrusted gems. 

Master pulled the dagger out of its leather, and he could see how sharp it was.

Ambrose put it on the bed. Elliot didn’t take his eyes off the shiny steel.

“Do you want to watch?”

“I don’t understand, sir.” He looked up at Master Ambrose. 

Master Ambrose looked at him, a cold glint in his eyes.

“I’m going to kill him. Do you want to watch?”

Elliot considered the knife. He thought about yesterday, how he somehow already knew how to fold the flowers even though he couldn’t remember ever doing it before.

He thought about Mr. Horneswood’s taunt about having a new name, despite being unable to recall an old name.

“Elliot? Do you want to watch?”

“Yes.” He looked back at Ambrose. “I have questions for him.”

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @starfields08000 @littlespacecastle @mylovelyme @whump-cravings @zeewbee @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @keepingwhumpwiththekardashians @fanastyfinder @roblingoblin285 @whumpzone @snakebites-and-ink @astrokea @magdalena-writes @latenightcupsofcoffee @tobiaslut

[lilcatdraws]

Crack A Smile and Cut Your Mouth

Ledger!Joker Origin Story

Chapter Ten - Nothing Is The Same

Warnings: Trauma responses, a bit of gore at the beginning

Chapter Summary: Still getting used to his new life, Jack wakes up from an awful nightmare and goes for a run.

Author’s Note: This took me forever sorry guys 😭 I wanted to get this posted days ago but oh well. I think it worked out better this way anyway. Side note! Jack's hair is back :D

Taglist: @alittlesmartcookie @furisodespirit

If you would like to be added to the taglist please let me know! <3

The deafening sound of a Black Hawk circling overhead and explosions all around roared in Jack’s ears, making it impossible to think straight. He couldn’t aim his rifle. He couldn’t focus. It was like he lost control of his own body. 

All Jack could do was helplessly watch the destruction around him. He tried to look away but when he looked down there were bits and pieces of maimed soldiers scattered about. Someone who had just been shot in the chest bled out at his feet. Their deadened eyes bored into his.

Jack screamed as he attempted to get away. He couldn’t no matter how hard he tried. He was drawn to it by an unknown force. The scene played over and over again in a loop. The Black Hawk flying up above, the explosions, the corpses… 

The loop broke when a stray bullet hit him in the face and ripped open the flesh on his cheek, creating an oozing, gaping wound. Blood pooled in his mouth. He couldn’t breathe. The drowning sensation took over his body as he writhed on the ground. 

Jack gasped and jolted awake. He sat up in bed, panting. He ran his fingers through his sweaty hair as he tried to catch his breath. His biceps, also glistening with sweat, shone as the moonlight peeking in through the curtains reflected on them.

This had to be his strangest nightmare yet. He didn’t have them as frequently as he did that week he was discharged but they were much worse this time. He didn’t know what was better, a nightmare every night or a few a week that were horrible and would rattle him for days.

Jack glanced at the digital clock on his nightstand. It was almost 4 am. He decided that now would be a good time to go for his nightly run. He completely forgot about it and fell asleep earlier than usual because he was so tired from the lack of sleep.

After stretching his tense muscles, Jack swung his legs over the bed and grabbed his pants and black hoodie from the floor, throwing them on half heartedly. He stuffed his keys into his pants pocket and slid on his shoes before quietly slipping out of the apartment. Instead of taking the elevator, he took the stairs since they were less noisy.

Once he was down at the lobby, Jack pushed the double doors open and walked out into the street, a gust of cold air hitting his face. Pulling his hood over his head, he took off to the left and sprinted down the sidewalk. 

Ever since he moved to Gotham a few months ago, he ran almost every night. Normally he would stay out for at least 20 to 30 minutes. He found running therapeutic and a way to clear his head. The adrenaline was like a drug. A temporary fix to help him escape his problems. 

This time Jack took a different route than he usually did. He liked to switch things up every once in a while. The dim street lights provided just enough light for him to see and illuminated his profile as he moved under them, giving his jagged scar a grisly effect. To a passerby the brief glimpse probably looked horrifying. That was partly why he wore a hood over his head. 

In the end he made it all the way to Gotham River, which flowed north of Downtown. As soon as the water was in sight, he stopped and approached the nearby bridge, wiping the sweat from his brow. He dug out his lighter and a cigarette from his pocket. He lit it and inhaled the first drag, closing his eyes and reveling in the crisp scent. Leaning over the railing, he looked out over the shimmering water and exhaled the smoke, the vapor curling in different directions.

The water was oddly calming, and combined with the smoke helped to settle his nerves, which were still shot from the nightmare. A gust of wind ruffled his hair and made him shiver a little, his skin prickling at the cold. 

These days Jack didn’t know what to feel. Day and night the war stayed with him. He thought he would eventually get over this, but apparently it was still lingering around, looming in the back of his mind. He couldn’t settle back into society properly. He could barely sleep. He couldn’t go a single day without being reminded of the war in some way. His scar was no help with that. 

With a tired sigh, Jack finished his cigarette and headed back, tossing the butt into a trash can close by. As he got closer to his apartment building, he slowed his pace. He entered through the double doors just as quietly as he exited earlier. His eye was struck by a light that emitted from the office and streaked through the lobby.

Vernon is up pretty early. Jack thought as he started up the stairs.

He reached the 3rd floor and scanned the hallway for 307. Finding it, he fished out his keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. He stepped inside and shut the door, tossing his keys onto the countertop. He went to his bedroom and flopped down on his bed with a loud exhale. 

There was no point in trying to go back to sleep. It was already morning, although very early, and now that Jack was up, he would stay up. He checked the clock beside him. It was close to 5 am. He sat up with a grunt and got down on the floor to begin his usual morning workout. 

The first thing was sit ups. He could do 250 in ten minutes. Next was push ups. He could do about 150 of those. Then to finish it off he held a plank for as long as he could. His muscles were on fire by the time he was done but it didn’t bother him. It was ingrained in his head to stay in shape. He also found himself taking pleasure in the pain. It was difficult to explain.

Jack sat up and rested for a minute, catching his breath. The running and the exercises made him pretty sweaty. A shower was looking very appealing right then. So he trudged into his bathroom and slid off his clothes. Then he turned on the water and as he waited for it to heat up, gazed into the mirror at himself. 

It was a pitiful sight. His eyes were heavy and sunken in with dark circles that rimmed the bottom of them. His face was gaunt and weary. Trying to be positive, he noticed his hair was growing back. It went past his ears now. He wasn’t sure or not if he wanted to grow it all the way out like how he used to have it. He would probably settle halfway, somewhere at his shoulders.

The water had warmed up so Jack stepped in the tub and stood under the shower head. He wet his hair first and lathered it with soap. Tilting his head back, he ran his fingers through his brown locks and rinsed. He was kind of ashamed to say he hadn’t properly washed his hair in almost a week. But it wasn’t like he had to impress anyone. He rarely went out and he lived alone. He could care less.

After he was done washing himself, Jack just stood motionless under the water and took in the warmth. Resting his head on the wall, he breathed in and out rhythmically and listened to the water pitter patter into the tub. As the steam rose and wisped past his face, he felt a sense of clarity that brought him out of his sleepy haze. 

Jack shut off the water and pulled the shower curtain aside, stepping out of the tub and onto the fluffy blue mat on the floor. He grabbed a towel from the cabinet under the sink and dried off, wrapping the towel around his waist. 

Back in his room he threw on a loose navy colored tee and black sweatpants. He felt his stomach growl and plead with him for food as he walked out into the main area of the apartment. All the exercise must have worked up his appetite. He relented and went to his pantry to hunt for food. He didn’t feel like spending the time to cook anything so it needed to be something simple.

Jack settled on a pack of blueberry Pop-Tarts and slid them into the toaster slots. While he waited he poured himself a glass of orange juice and placed it on the table. Once the Pop-Tarts were ready, he put them on a napkin and sat down. He ate the pastries tentatively since they were still hot and sipped on the juice.

He made a guttural sound of annoyance and moved his tongue across the inside of his cheek where the scar was. Food, especially the sticky kind, had a tendency to get stuck there. He noticed a few days ago that he was developing a habit of messing with the inside of his mouth with his tongue and licking his bottom lip where it had a small forked crack in it. He didn’t know why. The best way he could describe it to someone else was having a sore in your mouth that you compulsively need to mess with. 

It was a gruesome, repulsive habit but Jack didn’t try to stop himself. He knew it would be hard to quit since he was going to have this scar for a long time. He just hoped nobody out in public would notice. Bearing the scar was bad enough. People already stared at him. He didn’t need to give them another reason to.

Jack sighed as he realized his life would never be the same as it once was. He had to come to terms with living with this trauma, the scar, this new environment, and the fact that he was alone. His mother was gone, his father didn’t give two shits about him, and he didn’t know a single soul in Gotham. Being a loner never bothered him before but back then he had a choice. It hurt worse when he was forced into it. 

He was already alienated from the rest of society by being in the army and having to adjust back to civilian life. The scar pushed him even farther out of the norm. He hated when he was at the store and his military ID (that he kept putting off to take out of his wallet) flashed when he was pulling out money and people, noticing the card and his scar, would always say the customary, “thank you for your service.” 

It infuriated him to no end. He could read their eyes. They pitied him. He didn’t want them to. They didn’t even mean what they said. Everyone said it because it was “respectful” or “polite.” He didn’t feel bad in the slightest for thinking like that. He took solace in knowing he wasn’t the only vet that felt this way.

Jack cleared out the negative emotions beginning to swirl within him and finished up his breakfast. He refused to have another bad day today. Yawning, he stood up from the table, gently tossed his glass into the kitchen sink, and threw his trash away. He plopped down on the couch in the living room and switched on the TV. Right now he really needed a laugh so he turned on some cartoons to pass the morning by.

[werdlewrites]

masterlist - ao3 - twitter @ djomamma

LAST UPDATE UNTIL 7/15. I'm having company over and we're gonna get wild.

summary: "Do you know me?” he questions, his tone almost seeming hopeful as he anticipates a response. But disappointment fills his eyes no matter the smile he wears as she shakes her head in response. “That’s alright. My name is Sam Owens. I’m a doctor and, well,” there’s an uncomfortable pause as he gestures towards the building at his back. “Newly appointed director, here.” He’s only met with silence. Her glare is firmly locked on him, disregarding his employees who are waiting for an opportune moment. She remains unaware of the team creeping up at her back, mind too busy trying to place a man she finds some familiarity with. “I hear you’ve been through quite the ordeal.” warnings: being drugged, mentions of kidnapping, hallucinations wc: 4,351

“I don’t like it.”

It’s in the early morning when he makes a call. The sun had not yet risen from its slumber to kiss the sky, painting it in its beautiful glow. Instead, he’s isolated himself in the barren office, lights dimmed and voice hushed for secrecy, no matter if he was entirely alone. Deputies had left to be with their families, locking up the doors and bidding one another a goodnight. But, Hopper strayed.

With bitterness in Autumn’s eyes, he leaves her behind in the cabin. He makes a promise to have a long talk once he comes home for the night, but the hours dragged on without hope in sight. He meant what he said - a case he couldn’t drop, despite the need to stay behind and mend the broken pieces. She was out there, somewhere. Just a child on her own, cowering as the days turn colder. She needed Hopper in the same way Autumn did, and he could feel himself practically splitting down the middle.

“You don’t have to. I said I would help, and this is how.”

A plan was brewing beneath the moonlight. A hushed conversation running on a loop in Hopper’s mind once he locked up those doors. He poked and prodded at a stranger's reassurance, finding only discomfort but driven by hopelessness. He had been warned that something was coming and that she was unprepared. And as he stares down the devil wearing her flesh, he admits he's only a hindrance.

He looks for the girl in the shadows of their small cabin, anticipating for the lights to remain on while she waits for him. But she's thrown him into emptiness, the same he had done to her as his heart was torn in two. The attic is soundless and dark, and he remains unaware that she lies awake, burdened by anger and unable to welcome sleep. The dark is where he resides. Peace turned to war, dreams shifting into nightmares.

They don't speak until the morning. He's brewed coffee and dressed for the cold weather, leaving his uniform strung up and ignored. Breakfast is a lost concept as he knows neither of them will stomach it well with such high anxieties. Her mind is doomed by the unknown, while he rots in guilt for what he's about to do. He makes the phone call to excuse her for the day, and while the other line remains confused, they accept her absence and Autumn wears a weary look in her eye, drinking in silence.

Without further questions or hesitations, the two pile into his truck. He makes a promise to her that she’ll find her answers if only she surrenders to his guidance once more. Put her weakened faith in a man who’s pulled her from the fire, saving her in more ways than one. She agrees without understanding the consequences, while Hopper is left feeling sickened over the unknown that awaits them. He’s recited it all in his mind, but unable to predict the actions of a teenage girl with nothing left to lose.

The car ride is as quiet as the morning shared. Only the thud of anxious hearts fill the void, or the occasional sigh as they settle in for the short drive. He would part his lips to speak, and she would hear the defeated sigh follow shortly after as he swallows down all he wishes to say. Soon, music fills the space between them. Autumn is stubbornly avoidant in the passenger seat with arms crossed and gaze locked on the shifting scenery.

Hopper can’t help but notice that the closer they get to their destination, the more unsettled she becomes. Eyes trained on something unseen, body twisting to catch another look as they pass by. Unbeknownst to him, she’s become transfixed by hallucinations. She finds her child self, frozen in the treeline, watching with a deadened expression as they move far from her. But, she reappears at every corner, demanding attention until the teen forces herself to look elsewhere.

She’s there, too. Their gaze is locked and unshaken as the child sits just at her back, staring up at the side view mirror. Autumn nearly snaps to look for her - to confirm she wasn’t real. But young eyes break away to instead look ahead, studying what creeps into view. It’s a warning that’s slow to process, while something grips at her heart to pull her in, with a body screaming out in resistance. It’s unexplainable.

The world falls into silence once the building comes into view, just beyond the tall gates. The radio plays, but all she hears is static as a familiar feeling of dread creeps up like bile. She can’t place it - this source of bubbling fear, but she can feel the air grow colder. Blood draining from her face as she casts a wide-eyed look at the man by her side. She waits for him and his words of comfort. She waits for his security to rest around her shoulders like a warm blanket, and it never comes.

Hopper refuses to make the connection. Lip sunken and chewed with knuckles turning white from the tension around the wheel. Like he was strangling it. She calls his name, voice trembling as her back presses further into the seat. A silent prayer to the universe to erase her existence from this moment. To steal away images of this exact moment from another time, where the sun shined in contrast to the grey skies above.

“Stop the car,” she demands, though confidence is wavering.

He presses onward, barely acknowledging her plea or the guard that parts the gate for him. But her building panic and heavy breath don’t go unnoticed. Her body is fueled by fight or flight as she twists and turns to observe her surroundings. Prey dragged right into the mouth of the beast. “Stop the car, Hopper!”

Teeth leave indents from how hard he bites down at his flesh. Jaw tense and bones cracking from the pressure. The officer unintentionally increases the speed, focusing on the small group of people waiting for their arrival just at the main doors. He can’t see their faces but can recognize a familiar doctor even at this distance. Hands tucked away in pockets, eagerly awaiting someone he swore to help.

“I don’t leave her side.” It’s not a suggestion, but an order. Accept these terms, or watch your secrets lay across every porch in America. Then, the world. A threat of exposure to what lay in the shadows, no matter if it meant he would lose everything. By a bullet or locked in confinement until the end of his days.

“You have my word.”

“Stop!” She calls once more. Their bodies jolt forward with the sudden break, his foot far from the pedal. The gears cry out from the pressure beneath the hood, his belongings rattling and toppling over in the back. Hopper’s chest aches from the crush of the steering wheel, coughing harshly to regain lost breath. And when he turns to the passenger seat, hazy blue eyes grow wide from shock as she vanishes from his sight.

Autumn has effortlessly tossed aside her seatbelt and flung herself out of the car. Voices screaming and consuming every corner of her mind, unable to linger for long on what she’s done and how. She can hear the frantic motions from within as he sets it to park, nearly falling from his seat to chase after her. “Autumn, wait!”

She’s spinning on her heels. Digging a hole straight through the Earth to hide from the men standing guard at the gate, refusing to let her leave with a cautious hand over their pistols. It’s a familiar scene, somehow. Staring up at blue skies while they watch a child pluck weeds from the grass. He’s there, too. Always lingering nearby and speaking in riddles before guiding the girl back towards the doors.

“Keep this between us.”

“Rêveur” another voice pulls her in. It’s a bizarre mix of something new and old. That same, haunting presence lingers like an echo just beneath the call. And as she turns to face him, another stands in his place. Malice is replaced by kindness. The bone-chilling dread now filled with warmth as ocean eyes take in the sight of her. It’s all a contrast to the man named Brenner.

She doesn’t know this man but finds less fright under his gaze. Still, it’s an uncertainty. He steps closer, pausing as he notes her sudden retreat and accepts that this is their fate for the time being. An untrusting child, having been knocked down far too many times, finds less willingness to accept a helping hand. He acknowledges her need for space with a nod of his head, hands coming to clasp before him and fiddle with one another anxiously. He studies in the silence - watching the way her eyes narrow, digging through flesh to find his purpose. His true intentions.

“Do you know me?” he questions, his tone almost seeming hopeful as he anticipates a response. But disappointment fills his eyes no matter the smile he wears as she shakes her head in response. “That’s alright. My name is Sam Owens. I’m a doctor and, well,” there’s an uncomfortable pause as he gestures towards the building at his back. “Newly appointed director, here.” He’s only met with silence. Her glare is firmly locked on him, disregarding his employees who are waiting for an opportune moment. She remains unaware of the team creeping up at her back, mind too busy trying to place a man she finds some familiarity with.

“I hear you’ve been through quite the ordeal.” There’s no more smile, instead, kindness is shown in the way his brow knits together with worry. Genuine care and understanding. If you look hard enough, you’ll find regret. But, Autumn is now shooting Hopper a panicked stare, shifting closer toward betrayal as he confesses her secrets to strangers. Something he worked hard to protect. The tall figure remains stoic, sparing her a quick glance before all attention moves back to Owens. “I also understand some things have happened. Things...you can’t explain.”

Bit by bit, his existence is peeled away from her sight. Skin stripped away like the ground beneath him, turning to dust and dancing through the wind until it fades entirely. Frosted grass is replaced by tile, the sky now a darkened ceiling, and she stands beneath it with another. He’s small, yet acting as though he towered above her. Was more than her. His unheard words lash out against a tearful face just before distance is forced between them by something unseen. The boy is suddenly gone, and Jonathan fills his space. His shoes grind against chilled concrete just before his bones rattle and cry out in pain as he’s pushed against his car. A kind face contorts in agony, before casting a wide-eyed look in her direction. “I-I’m s-,” Autumn can feel herself pulling away. Stumbling over her own feet as she begins to descend backward down the hill, letting gravity carry her through a memory. “I don’t know - please don’t-” unfinished sentences fall from her lips as panic rises, her chest heaving with eyes frantically searching for an escape, ultimately falling on the trees in the far-off distance, just across the field.

“Please don’t follow me.”

“Run.”

It’s an action without thought. Dr. Owens had hardly taken a breath before she spun around to search for an escape. Prey clawing at the walls of their enclosure until it gives way, granting them freedom. She would scale the barb-wired fence if she had to. Steal Hopper’s truck if it came down to it. But her sprint is short-lived as unfamiliar hands take hold of her, gripping hard enough to bruise and uncaring if they do. The panic is blinding and their faces remain a blur in her haste, working hard to fight away their grip.

It all seems to end just as it begins. A familiar sensation of a tiny prick of her flesh, then a surge of warmth came flooding in. She can feel the waves pouring in and drowning out her senses, much quicker than before. The fear is pittering out, replaced by confusion. Head empty and knees weakening rapidly, forcing the girl to grip at the sleeves of her captors. Autumn can almost see his face through the hazy vision. Prideful to have something once lost now in his possession.

There’s a commotion just beyond her sight. Angered voices yell incoherently just before a fist connects with the man's face, forcing a release of the deadweight he holds prisoner. And for a moment, she finds herself free-falling. The dark clouds growing further and further away, the trees stretching up for blessings of the hidden sun. She pictures the Earth opening up, welcoming her into another nightmare. But the sudden stop is soft and secure, the scene now filled with a hazy view of Hopper as he holds her close. The veins of his neck are prominent, fury dulled by the ringing in her ears.

“Hopper,” his name goes unfelt by numbed lips, barely audible beneath the chaos. But he hears her, diverting all attention down toward the weak girl in his arms.

“I’m here. I’ve got you,” he says in a coo. His touch is gentle yet trembling as he moves aside windswept hair.

She wants to push. Wants to scream and fight her way out but the poison holds her down and eats away at her strength. With every passing second, Autumn slips further away. She can feel it in the heaviness of her eyes as they threaten to catapult her into darkness. “Y-you said-”

“I know, I know,” he cuts in. He rocks their bodies back and forth, unsure if it’s to soothe the girl or himself in a moment of panic. “It’s okay, I promise. I’m not leaving you.”

“But he will. They all do, in the end.”

A girl is stripped from the cold winter winds and plunged deep into shadows without direction - without guidance. The world above had once been grey and illuminated by the sun it concealed. Now, blackened out like an eclipse. Frozen grass rotting away to melt into the darkness. There was no pressure against her form as Hopper pulled the girl close to his chest, no chill at her fingertips as they lay across the ground. She was lost in that familiar space, and for once, without fear of it. There was freedom, here. Weightlessness as she studies her hands, counting all ten fingers and the way nails imprint the skin of her palm.

She was free, here. Now calling this place a sanctuary for her tormented mind. Yet, she wasn’t the only one to enjoy its momentary bliss.

Gunfire pierces through the silence, shaking her from a dreamy state as she ducks for cover. It’s still, for a moment. The echo ripples through the shadows until it fades into nothing. And she waits for this unseen war to end. Turning only when her heart stills, anticipating the barrel of a gun to enter her sight. But what awaits her instead, is that pristine blue car, empty. It shimmers as though sunlight has broken through the veil. A spotlight in the darkness to hold her attention. Until it all breaks with a second bullet firing out into nothing.

“That wasn’t part of the deal!”

She knows that voice. It echoes all around and she searches for his familiar comfort, no matter what he’s done. She chooses to abandon the unknown car as she races on to find him, lost in the void like her. Hopper mutters and storms down a hallway - she can hear it in his stride. The thud of heavy steps as he follows after someone. This person still seemed a stranger, yet his voice was locked tight in her mind. “It was an accident. It’s an unpredictable situation,” he tries to defend.

“Unpredictable? She’s a child!” Hopper argues back. Autumn can picture the way his features contort in anger. His brows turned down, wrinkles more visible as the stress took over. His fists would ball up at his sides, ready to strike again should he need to.

“You don’t know her the way I do,” Dr. Owens speaks, causing a sudden halt in their step as they undoubtedly face one another head-on. His confidence is met with betrayal and unknown power hidden in blue eyes. “She wasn’t going to listen to me - or you, for that matter. Not at this point. Even you should know that.” The silence to follow after his statement was deafening. Hopper stands before the man, nearly chest to chest as he fumes with no comment or argument against what he knows to be the truth. “It’s unorthodox. But, it’s better this way. I promise.”

The air is cold and stale. The bite of winter unfelt on her tongue as she takes what feels like her first breath after a long slumber. It’s a familiar sensation in such a foreign place. For a brief, hazy moment, she thinks of the hospital. Waking up to the worried and judgemental eyes of an officer. But the view is less vivid of such a sterile space, instead hosting dark cabinets that decorate bland walls. It seemed makeshift. A room with another purpose at a point in time, now hurriedly adjusted to suit other needs. The belongings of her bag lay scattered across the counters just to her right. A haphazard act once her eyes had sealed shut, worry placed on more important things.

As her sight clears, she finds wires. They stretch out from an active monitor, dancing, and weaving until they come to rest just beneath the collar of her sweater. It’s only with her sudden awareness that she can feel them glued to her skin and the discomfort they bring. Autumn works hard to raise a hand to pry them away, but the invisible weight of her sedative still lingers. Lead sits inside of her veins, leaving her helpless in a strange new place. It’s a suffocating feeling, but that panic is short-lived.

Someone else is in the room with her, just to her left. She can hear steady breaths and the occasional grumble as his body shifts against a leather seat, searching for better comfort. There was no mistaking it for anyone other than the chief of police, still unaware of her status no matter the sudden spike in her vitals.

She fights through the strong current that pins her down, wasting away as another wave comes crashing down against her. Every muscle aches, and there’s tension building in her neck as it struggles to raise before finally collapsing in the other direction. He sees her, then. His eyes are blown wide as he works to peel away the layers of reality, trying to understand if this moment is real. That she was with him, still. Her eyes are void of any hatred for what he allowed to happen. Yet, entirely empty. He’s not sure which is worse.

“You’re awake,” he exclaims, suddenly pulling himself up on his feet and closing the distance between them. He can just barely hear a grumbled reply beneath his heavy steps. Incoherent and lazy. Her guardian had spent hours going over his words with care. Planning out what to say and how to say it. But everything seems to fizzle out the moment he catches sight of her tired stare. “Autumn,” he begins. Almost testing the waters he waded through. “You need-you need t'know it wasn't meant t'happen like this.”

There it is - that smile. It's nothing genuine or warm, something easy to find when she laughed along to his jokes or the dumb movies he would put on to end the night. It was full of bitterness with a slight curl of her lip, ready to attack should he push too far. It was the same look she had when he forbade her from going back home, and when she refused to listen.

“You brought me here, and they drugged me,” she begins. A hard and pained swallow worked its way down her throat before staring up at him once more. “How was it supposed t'go?”

The man before her finds himself biting on his tongue. It's his punishment, nails digging through his palm as they wind up into fists. He thinks over Dr. Owens's words, and how he promised her safety and to simply move at her pace. So long as she wanted it. And she ran. She chose to bury it all and continue a pained path of ignorance as her mind unfolded the many chapters of a closed and forgotten book.

And he dragged her in to face it.

Autumn begins to move with a newfound strength. Trembling arms working to hoist herself up on the hospital bed, and nearly giving way to her weight. His unfurled hands are at her upper arm and back within seconds, hoping to help but she shakes away his touch. There’s a mumbled, “Where am I?” to slip by chapped lips.

Through gritted teeth, he replies, “Hawkins Lab,” before stepping back to give her space.

There’s a sag in her posture as the words settle in. Almost anticipating - or hoping for another answer. But reality was much more foul tasting, and it was evident in the mocking smirk on her face. “Yeah, I figured.” Her eyes are on the opened windows now, eyes narrowed at this new light of day after being trapped in darkness for hours. Then, she moves. One by one her legs swing to the edge of the bed, boots sloppily hung from her feet and scuffing along the floor. Hopper tries once more to assist her, but she’s gone from his reach in a matter of seconds.

Shakily, she stands from her spot. Body swaying and legs working hard to catch an uneven balance. And there’s a frantic, almost desperate act just out of his sight. Hands tugging and ripping at the cords beneath her clothing until they all come loose and lay scattered along the tile. Her vitals flatline, filling the room with the chime of death, though it goes ignored by the pair.

She’s at her bag once they speak again. He says her name in a plea, and she cuts him off with a sharp turn in his direction. “D’you think there’s a risk in overdosing? Y’know, being drugged. Since I’m making a real habit of it.” She doesn’t miss the way his icy stare forms into a glare. Unable to find her tone humorous, and in some way, she doesn’t either. But the bizarre turn of events in her life had almost become laughable. And if she couldn’t laugh about it, then what was the point? What was the purpose? Other than God toying with his creations out of sheer boredom. “You said I would get answers,” she continues with her back now to this so-called guardian.

His lips part to speak, but any chance he had of sewing the tattered threads of their bond was cut short by a rattling door as it’s forced open. Dr. Owens stands before them with flushed cheeks and a wild look in his eyes, full of fear. At his back, other nameless staff members were ready to assist. But the panic dies down as he makes the connection, having seen her vitals become motionless across his own monitor, sounding off an alarm. In mere seconds, he’s full of life again. Relief swooping in to rescue a weathered heart.

“Well,” he begins. Opened palms gesture out to her now standing form, admiring the strength no matter it being slow to return. “Look who’s up and ready to take on the day.” His joy falls on deaf ears. The pair before him remain unamused, even unsettled as Hopper wears a small scowl on his lips.

Despite that warning, he takes a step closer toward the girl and it’s enough for the officer to intervene. “That’s close enough.”

It’s easy to see that while tensions were high and mistrust had shown its face, they still gravitated toward one another. The girl takes a risk by abandoning the support of the counter, in favor of standing just a little closer to Hopper. Finding protection behind his extended hand to keep her at bay. The doctor can’t fight the warm smile that comes to light. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been kidnapped,” she answers without hesitation.

It’s then that the grin subsides into a thin line, shaking his head in disapproval. “No. You, my dear, are free to leave at any time. This-this isn’t a prison.” Her features don't seem to soften. The space between them remains the same as she's uncertain of what to believe. So, he keeps trying. “We didn't get off on the right foot. There are…certain safety measures in place. And, I’ll admit,” he says with a nervous chuckle. “My guys got a little trigger-happy.”

A simple brow raises at his words. “That was all part of the plan? Drugging me?”

Now defensive and fearful of the girl running a second time, he moves forward, though the taller gentleman keeps them separated. “No, never. It’s all a precaution. They-they don’t entirely know what they are dealing with. Who they are dealing with. And what you don’t know, you fear.”

Autumn spares a glance towards the man who acts as a shield, and he meets her halfway. A glance just over his shoulder with eyes that speak for him. Promises of staying by her side. To walk should she choose to abandon this all, or trail her shadow as she faces it head-on.

“And I know what you fear, Ms. Reid,” Dr. Owens states. His hands now tucked away into his coat pocket, relaxed and trusting of his company. She doesn’t question him, but her stare lingers and begs for closure. To shine a light on the darkness. “The missing pieces in your mind.”

[timaeusterrored]

(Happy August 20th, 2023)

(Tw: mentions of throwing up, death, alcohol)

Kerry was many things, but strong wasn’t one of them. He could still hear sirens off in the distance, the rubble settling. Johnny was gone, and the clock Kerry was staring at told him Johnny had been gone for three hours already. And they had been the longest three hours of his life.

He didn’t react when banging began on his door, his manager demanding that he open up. That they needed to get out of there. Or at least, Kerry needed to get out of Johnny’s apartment before Arasaka showed up to ransack the place.

Kerry had already torn the place apart, looking for his goddamn dog tags, no luck. Kerry wasn’t leaving til he found them, but he had a sinking feeling they had been on Johnny.

You know the sound of ringing in movies that play when a character is in such a deep panic they can’t move? Kerry was realizing now that sound was real. He could hear it. He felt nauseous with anger and anxiety, the fear and realization that Johnny was dead.

He stood, the empty bottle clattering onto the floor. He stumbled his way into the kitchen and just barely made it to the sink before he threw up. The tears finally began to flow, hot angry. His chest heaved as he turned on the sink, his vision blurred.

He couldn’t see anything past his tears and anger as he threw the first thing he could get his hands on. He wasn’t going to make it easy on anyone who got in here next.

“FUCK!” Kerry finally screamed out, hand over his chest to make sure his heart was still beating, because it sure as hell didn’t feel like it.

It was too much. He was too panicked to hear anything now, not the door finally being opened, not his manager dragging his sad form off the glass covered ground. He was pretty sure there was glass in his hands and knees but he didn’t care. Johnny was dead, what else mattered?

Nothing.

Kerry shaved his head two days later. And the next week Nancy put his ass on the next plane to the Philippines. And he barely remembered a damn thing. Either between the drugs and booze or just repression of that year as a whole. He couldn’t remember his first trip back home, or even coming home. After.

He wouldn’t wake up for another 50 years, when Johnny Silverhand would appear back into his life again in the form of a merc named V. That Merc showed him a reason to be awake and stay awake, to take his life back, and open his heart again.

Playing with Johnny 50 years later was like a dream come true, like that night hadn’t changed Kerry’s life for the worst. He had been so angry, he had found out the hard way that the stages of grief was a never ending cycle. Loops if you will.

Johnny’s loop was one that had never ended. And probably never would for as long as Kerry lived, for Kerry believed they were soulmates. Maybe not in the sense most people would think of, but he had been Johnny’s and Johnny has been his.

Kerry looked up at the Arasaka tower, V softly counting down next to him.

“5… 4… 3… 2… 1.”

The two fell silent, staring up at the absolute eyesore of a building. Then the memorial. V picked up the bottle of tequila and offered it to Kerry.

“This one’s for you, J.” He nodded to the words, then took a swig and offered the bottle to V.

“Never forget indeed.” V mumbled, taking a swig.

Kerry stared at the words, huffing a small laugh. Always one for dramatics… even his last words to Samurai was dramatic.

‘Im here to say goodbye to you all.’

“…Love you, Johnny.”

[impala-dreamer]

Everlong - Chapter Thirteen

A Supernatural Series

~Y/N has everything she’s ever wanted - the love of a good man, a best friend she can lean on, drama, magic, and heroics. But everyone knows, things aren’t always what they seem.~

Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester, Rowena, Castiel, Others

Chapter Thirteen Word Count: 2031

Everlong Masterlist ~ Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works  ~  Buy Me A Coffee  ~  Feedback is Gold

There was no rest. 

If she slept, she fell in so deep that Dean was forced to shake her awake lest she scream herself hoarse and claw her cheeks bloody. 

Awake, she was plagued by the black mist and Chuck’s mocking stare lingering on the outskirts of her vision. She saw blood everywhere, watched Sam and Dean die on a loop. She tasted death, smelled the rotting flesh of forgotten bodies, walked through dense, poisoned air. 

Anytime she needed him, Dean was there to pull her back with a word or a touch, but it was wearing him down as well. 

She needed more help than he could give.

After striking out magically and spiritually, they tried a medical solution, drugging her with Haldol and sedatives, but the drugs only made things worse. 

She was in hell. 

Exhausted and miserable, she sat wrapped in Sam’s old hoodie in her favorite reading chair. Her knees were up high, her arms tight around her legs. She was quiet and still, staring off at nothing, trying to ignore the flames that licked at the books to her left. 

The fire grew hotter and she tugged on the strings of the sweatshirt, tightening the hood around her face. 

In the next room, Dean was pacing. He rubbed at the back of his neck and looked through the archway, checking on Y/N. 

“Not good,” he muttered, turning and walking back the way he came. 

Sam lifted his eyes from the computer and took a peek at Y/N as well. She was shaking visibly and his heart broke. 

“I know…” 

“What are we gonna do?” 

Sam shrugged. “Really, there’s only one thing we can do.” 

Dean grit his teeth. “No. We’re not doing that.” 

“Dean-” 

“I said no!” 

Y/N appeared in the archway, tired fingers clinging to the stone for support. Her gaze drifted between the brothers and she pushed the hood away. 

“What are we not doing?” she asked, voice weak and torn. 

Dean shook his head and turned away, refusing to show his frustration. 

Sam swallowed hard and leaned back in his chair. He ran a finger across his upper lip, thinking. 

Y/N stepped forward. “Well?” 

Sam sighed. “I think- we- we think you need professional help, Y/N.” 

Her stomach twisted into a nervous ball. “What do you mean? Like a… therapist?” 

He dropped his gaze. “Probably a little more than that.” 

Her pulse quickened. “You want to lock me up.” 

Dean looked back over his shoulder. “No, Y/N…” 

Her throat tightened. “Yes you do. You wanna commit me. You think I’m insane.” 

A blood red tear slid down his cheek. Black mist crept slowly up the back wall. 

Sam cleared his throat. “We don’t. But… for your safety, I-” 

“My safety.” She laughed bitterly. “For my safety, you’re going to shove me in a padded room and throw away the key. Great. That’s just great.” 

“Y/N-” 

“No!” Tossing a hand up, she spun away from them both. “Ya know… anything happens to either one of you and it’s ‘tear the world apart looking for an answer’. Me? Nah… it’s just stress. Couldn’t possibly be anything remotely unnatural happening here. Just drag me to the nut house and pump me full of drugs until I die. Great plan.” 

Dean dropped his head, hiding him face between his hands. His shoulders shook with a heavy sigh as he fought back pained tears, but Y/N saw it all. 

“You don’t agree, Dean?” she asked, begging him with sad eyes to stay on her side. 

Dragging his hands down his face, he looked over, green eyes streaked with wetness. “Y/N…” 

Her stomach dropped and her lip trembled. “So you’re on board with this?” 

He tried to speak, but nothing came out. His lips opened and shut without a word. 

“I thought we were in this together,” she said, whispering her pain to the room. “You and me, right?”

He turned to face her fully, still at a loss. “It is… I mean, we are.” 

Anger swirled in her gut. She dug her nails into her palms and stared up at the ceiling, hoping for help from above. 

The lights burned her eyes, shifting from the warm ancient bulbs to the bright fluorescents of a hospital. She cringed at the glow as a strange wave of warmth washed over her. It felt like being drugged, like her body was melting with a strong sedative, and her knees buckled. She swayed on her feet and reached for the table, gripping the edge until the moment passed. 

Sam pushed up from his seat, ready to rush to her side, but Y/N glared up at him in warning. He stayed back, watching carefully. 

When the lights dimmed, she stood up, slightly out of breath and a little dizzy.

“You OK?” 

Sam’s voice scratched at her brain and she grit her teeth. 

“What do you think?” she spat. 

He flinched. “I think we need to get some help.” He was kind and his tone was soft but Y/N took it like a hammer to the skull. 

In her eyes, Chuck appeared in the corner, leaning casually against the wall, arms and ankles crossed. He laughed and it echoed through her head. 

“I think he’s right…” 

Y/N swallowed hard. “Shut up,” she whispered, trying to ignore him. 

Sam sighed, his shoulders dropping. “Y/N…” 

Chuck smirked. “You’re insane and they know it now. It’s time to stop fooling around.”

Y/N trembled. “I said shut up.” 

Sam jerked upright, standing at full height. He pursed his lips, startled and a bit hurt. 

“Y/N,” Dean spoke up, rounding the table to get to her. “We’re just trying to do what’s best here, and I think… I think Sam’s right.” 

Her heart was racing. Her jaw was aching from clenching so tight. 

Chuck mocked her from the corner, laughing. 

“They wanna lock you up. You should let them. It’s not safe here for you anymore.” 

Her lungs were tight, hands twitching. The lights burned bright again and her skin began to crawl. 

She looked over Dean’s shoulder at the shimmering vision of Chuck. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“I’m trying to help you,” he said, kicking off of the wall and moving closer. 

Dean’s chest sunk inwards and his shoulders turned. “We’re trying to help you.” 

Y/N closed her eyes, bit down hard into her lip, desperate to force Chuck to leave her be. 

“Go away!” 

Dean startled, boots halting with a thud. “Baby, please-” 

Chuck moved around him, standing in the space between them. He smiled. “I’m not going anywhere. But you are.” 

He reached for Y/N and she screamed, jumping back and nearly tripping over her own feet. 

“You can’t get away from this,” he told her, stepping closer as she skirted backward. 

Scared, she looked to Dean for help but he was frozen like a statue behind Chuck. His body was locked in place, his lips parted in a shout, his eyes glued forward. 

“Dean! Please!” 

She screamed for him and Chuck snapped his fingers. 

The bright lights struck Dean’s face, beaming off of every freckle, every line. He shone like crystal and the light burned into him. Y/N watched in horror as the lines around his eyes split apart, letting the light inside. The cracks deepened until the form could not hold together any longer and Dean shattered, his body breaking into a million tiny specs of glass. 

The tinkle of his fall against the tiles rang through the room and Y/N doubled over with a shrieking scream. 

Sam rushed to catch her, but another snap of Chuck’s fingers splintered every bone in his long body. His limbs turned to rubber and he collapsed at Y/N’s side, groaning in agony and looking up at her with a muted, pained plea. 

Horrorstruck, she screamed at Chuck as she bent to help Sam. 

“Stop this! Please!” 

Chuck sighed and took pity. With a flick of his wrist, Sam’s eyes went wide and a bubble of blood burst from his lips. Y/N lay her hand against his cheek and his skin turned to jelly, sinking in on itself until Sam was a puddle of putrid flesh and blood swirling around her knees. 

Screams shook her body as she slipped through the muck, trying to get away. Her back hit the ground, hands and feet sliding through blood and broken glass, the remnants of the Winchesters. 

“Help me!” Her voice hit the walls and raced back at her from every angle. There was no one to hear her, no one to help. “Please!” 

Chuck advanced, enjoying her pain. 

“You’re just going to have to deal with it,” he told her simply. “This is your life now. Your pain. Your constant torture.” He grinned. “Unless…” 

“Unless?” She looked up, eyes hopeful and flooded with tears. 

“Well, you could just kill yourself and be done with it all.” 

Her breath stopped in her throat. “W-what?” 

Chuck crouched down, leaning close. “Just one little bullet and this could all be over. You could be free.” 

“No.” She shivered violently as his words soaked into her bones. “No. No!” 

Chuck shrugged and set his hand on her shoulder, pushing her down flat onto her back. 

“Just a suggestion…” 

He caught her left wrist and shoved it down at her side, locking it into the velcro cuff that appeared. 

“No. Please! Help me!” Y/N struggled, kicking her arms and legs as the floor beneath her softened. Crisp white sheets emerged from the tiles, a flat pillow bloomed under her head. Stainless steel bars walled her in and Chuck grabbed her right hand, forcing it down into another cuff. 

The Bunker’s lights shone impossibly bright and the world around her flickered, morphing into the stark sterility of a hospital room. The off white paint flooded upward from floor to ceiling, taking over the dark walls and the fading echo of her screams became the tight, steady beep of machines. 

She raged against Chuck’s impossible grip but it was no use. 

“Don’t do this to me, please!” 

He sighed, blue eyes narrowing on her face. 

“It’s for your own good, Y/N…” 

“No!” 

He moved down to secure her ankles and Dean appeared by the foot of the bed. He was whole and alive but looked too different. His clothes were wrong, his hair too long, his cheeks hidden by a thick beard. He looked down with a pathetic frown and sighed. 

“It’s for your own good, Y/N.” 

His voice was different, higher and softer, lacking the gruff rasp that she knew and loved. 

Fear rumbled through her and she kicked at Chuck, twisting and tearing at the cuffs. The fabric bit into her skin and blood oozed down her arms. 

Tears rushed down Dean’s face and he stepped back, fading into the background. 

Y/N watched him vanish and panicked, feeling the emptiness and rejection deep in her soul. “Dean!” 

The blood flowed faster, soaking into the clean white sheets and Y/N’s head lolled to the side. Dizzy and lost, she thrashed on the bed, unable to break free. 

A whoosh of cool air struck her cheeks and Y/N looked up to see Castiel by her side. His forehead was creased with concern, blue eyes bright but pained. 

“Cas,” she gasped, struggling to catch her breath. “Help me…” 

Two fingers pressed against her temple and the horrors vanished as Y/N fell into blessed darkness. 

Dean cradled her unconscious form, hugging her to him and rocking gently on the floor. He turned to Cas and tried whisper a faint thank you, but speaking clearly was too hard. He was breaking with her, losing his love as she lost her mind. 

“What are we gonna do?” he asked, voice crackling around his tears. 

Castiel frowned and stood up. “She’ll sleep for a while,” he said with a sigh. 

Dean swallowed hard. “And then?” 

The angel had no answer and Dean dropped his head, pressing his lips to her forehead. 

“I got you,” he whispered, hugging her tighter. “Always.” 

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[theladyofbloodshed]

A Court of Tangled Flames - Chapter Twelve (TW for Beron being a massive dick)

At the muffled screams of panic from the bedroom, Eris lurched awake. A cold sweat coated his back. 

The bedroom door was locked but he kicked it off its hinges to get to Nesta. 

She balanced on the edge of the bed, gasping for breath. The sheets were strewn across the floor. Windows intact. No assailant in the room, but she still had scratches on her arms. 

The panic in her eyes was real. She motioned to her throat, signalling that she couldn’t breathe. 

‘Cough. Big cough.’ 

Nesta did as she was told, forcing herself to cough and splutter. 

‘Good. Breathe in as slowly as you can. And back out.’ 

They repeated the motions until Nesta’s breathing settled into a rhythm once more. There was blood beneath her fingernails where she’d clawed herself in her sleep. Sweat stuck her hair to her face. He had never seen Nesta dishevelled before. Wide eyed and messy haired, she clung to his hands, breathing rapidly.

Nesta followed him to the bathroom, staying as near as she could to him while he filled a bowl with warm water to clean the scratches. Occasionally, he’d hear her gulp or splutter as she fought to master her emotions. 

‘Nightmare?’

He could only wonder what had rendered her so terrified. Perhaps it was the King of Hybern who haunted her dreams. Eris had stood still in the battle, frozen with a sick fascination as he watched a once-mortal female drag a knife through his neck. 

Nesta pressed her forehead against his shoulder, breathing slowly. 

‘I am the rock against which the surf crashes, nothing can break me,’ she murmured, keeping her eyes shut. 

He drew a blanket around her shoulders and led her out of the bedroom. It was still late but he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her in the bed alone while her hands still trembled. He was her husband by law, he would act like it by the heart. 

Flames awoke in the fireplace to heat the room. The dog greeted Nesta with a nudge of his nose against her bare leg and a fervent wag of the tail. When he followed her up onto the couch - a move he never normally did - Eris didn’t scold him. Nesta had looped her arm around the smokehound to press themselves together. He stayed on her other side, a blanket draped around them both. The coldness of Nesta’s skin worried him. It was clammy and he could still feel the tremendous speed of her pulse. 

‘I thought it was real. I thought it was getting me again.’

‘What was?’

‘The kelpie.’

Kelpies died out centuries ago. And thank the Mother for it because they were hideous creatures. Eris had seen drawings of victims who hadn’t been saved in time. Their mouths had been brutalised, tongues torn out and lips ripped off. Their corpses were white and bloated from drowning.  

‘Your soldiers in the Bog of Oorid. Azriel had found them so Cassian left me in a tree to help him. He was gone so long. I thought he’d been hurt so I climbed down.’

Eris’ throat had gone very dry. They had taken her to that foul place? Left her alone? ‘You were there that day?’

‘It crawled from the water and I tried to climb the tree but it held my ankle and pulled me into the water. I thought I would drown.’

‘That’s what you dreamt of?’ Realisation hit Eris like a wave. ‘That’s why you were afraid in the cave. Oh, Nesta. I wouldn’t have taken you if I’d known. You jumped in the river. Why didn’t you tell me to piss off?’

‘Because I’m useless.’ Her voice cracked. ‘I can’t even take a bath without imagining myself back in the Cauldron. I let fear rule my life.’

Eris drew his arm around her, stroking against her hair. He thought she might pull away, but Nesta remained tilted against him, face trying not to break into tears. He’d known she’d suffered. This was different to Cassian being a shit partner or Mor snapping at her. They’d taken her to the Bog of Oorid and left her alone there. The Night Court had no limit to its cruelty. 

‘How did you survive?’

Cassian was a talented fighter but even he couldn’t swim to the bog’s depths and take on a kelpie. 

‘The Mask. It called to me. I called to it. I just put it on and didn’t care what happened.’

‘You have the Mask? You wore it?’

‘It raised an army of the dead.’

‘And you took it off? Just like that?’

Nesta nodded. ‘Sometimes it still sings for me. It wants me to wear it again. It’s locked away, warded by Helion, but I still hear it.’

Eris was at a complete loss for words. The silence stretched on and on, his thumb brushing up and down her skin while he tried to figure out what to say. He couldn’t give a damn about the Mask or the unholy power that resided in Nesta. It was not to be wielded by any. The thing was far too dangerous. Briallyn shouldn’t have been meddling with the Crown either. They were objects that should have been encased in iron and buried at the bottom of the ocean. His wife had donned the Mask, raised an army of the dead, then simply removed the Mask when she’d had enough.

‘I couldn’t find the Mask in my dream. We were just alone there in the water. And I kept thinking that I didn’t want to die alone.’

His heart broke for her. Orla had been angrier than he had ever seen her when he broke the news of their marriage. For a moment, he had regretted it for Nesta’s sake. Not now. Not after all he had heard today about her sisters and Oorid. He would give her the life she deserved free from anymore pain. 

‘How badly did the Kelpie hurt you?’

Nesta grimaced, eyes fixed on the fire. ‘Amren said it looked like a cat had tried to eat my face, so that bad.’ 

‘I hope Cassian sincerely regretted leaving you there alone.’

Nesta shrugged one shoulder. ‘Not really. The concern was more for your soldiers.’ 

‘Sorry about that,’ Eris winced. When the news had been broken to him about his missing soldiers, Eris had suspected they were searching for something in the Bog of Oorid. None would go there otherwise. The thought of bringing Nesta there was appalling.

‘I’m sorry about your soldiers. Cassian and Azriel, they should have known they were under a spell. Should have tried to capture more and return them to you.’

He was touched by her apology. It wasn’t hers to offer and yet Nesta did, because she was a good person. A good person who was never valued. Never loved. Because he couldn’t let it lie, Eris pushed on. ‘They looked after you, didn’t they? After it had happened. You were taken care of?’

‘I just wanted to forget everything.’

Eris could feel his face going slack as Nesta explained how Azriel had gone to torture his missing soldiers for information with the others watching on and she was left alone in a room. Nobody remained with her after what had happened. Dumped in a room like luggage. The Mask had called for her, claiming it was lonely. There was a connection between them forged by wearing it. It would forever call to her. She was found by the others alone with the Mask.

‘I wanted so badly to put it on again. It was nice to wear. The world was calm, quiet. I didn’t hate myself.’ Her fingers stroked the dog’s ear in a rhythmic motion.

When Nesta spoke again, she explained that she was afraid to bathe alone. Afraid because of the kelpie. Because of the Cauldron. So she waited until Cassian came to her rooms. And instead of saying no to her advances, he gave into lust.

The thought of touching a female with a bruised and scratched face made Eris feel sick. That involuntary spike of anger that came each time another stone of Nesta’s life was uncovered hit like a blinding, hot coal. After a kelpie had tried to murder her, Nesta should have been tucked into bed with a mountain of desserts and a new library to keep her happy, not fucked like an animal by that brute.

‘I encouraged Cassian.’

‘He’s over five hundred years old,’ Eris bit out. ‘I would think the damn general of the Night Court would have better judgement. Or sense. I fucking hate him.’

Nesta rubbed her face in her hands, wearied from her nightmare. He didn’t need to add it.

‘Sorry. I know you and he were close. I’m letting anger rule me.’

She let out a strange laugh. ‘Is it wrong if I like it? It’s nice to have somebody be angry on my behalf. I thought maybe I was wrong. That I over-reacted about the swords. About being moved from my house. You make me feel as if I wasn’t going crazy.’

Eris squeezed her a little tighter. ‘I vowed never to let anger drive me like my father. I always break the rules where you’re concerned.’   

‘You don’t think your father will hand me over to Briallyn, do you? You won’t tell him about the Mask.’

Ah. Now he understood exactly why Orla had been irate enough to throw a plate towards his head when he’d broken the news. 

You have not thought about this, not truly. 

Typically, Eris had given his friend a swaggering answer that he tended to act first, think later which only angered her more. But Orla had meant this - Brillayn. She’d been unable to say it in front of Niamh. This was bad. More than that. This was atrocious. Eris had not thought for one moment that his father could hand Nesta over. The most pressing issue had been the Night Court. He had forgotten about his vacant soldiers under the thrall of the Crown, nicely gift-wrapped by his father. But what could Beron gain from it? The high lord only ever acted in his best interests. He’d seen Nesta’s magic now, saw the potency. Eris had to pray that it would be enough for Beron. He’d be desperate for her magic to infiltrate their bloodline. He’d push for a child before he gave her over. That gave them time. A little time for Eris to think of a plan.

‘I’d rather die than let my father touch you.’

Nesta turned to look at him. Her grey eyes reminded him of coming home during a storm, soaked to the bone and glad for the warmth. Orla was the only person in the world who knew him. But Nesta had seen him for who he really was.

She turned away, mouth twisting downwards. ‘Do you think I’m a bad person?’

‘No. Not for one moment.’

Nesta drew the blankets closer around them and sank into his body. ‘Then why does nothing good ever happen to me?’

***

They spent their morning training on the outskirts of the Forest House while the dogs loped around expending some of their boundless energy. The wind seemed to send them into a frenzy. They crashed through piles of leaves and booming barks echoed through the forest as they streaked after hares.

Eris was a surprisingly patient teacher who never once laughed when she made a mistake. And there were many. Winnowing was impossible. Well, it was possible but not quite yet. Shaking and sweaty, Nesta managed all of one step which shocked her so much that she fell face first into a pile of leaves. Eris had leapt to catch her and found himself horizontal too. The pair of them broke into laughter.

Winnowing was tied to the control of her power. She had to dig in to use it but channel it in a different way than an eruption. Eris did his best to illustrate it to her using discarded leaves and acorns for his explanations. Her control was good, he said. It was less control, more suppression. Unleashing her power was as easy as breathing - subduing it was the struggle. 

When she began to work on precision, Eris stood in her path. He stood with his hands on his hips, shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow. His dark red hair waved in the wind. 

‘You are going to strike this acorn.’ It was set only a foot in front of him.

‘I’ll kill you.’

‘A threat or a promise, my darling wife? Did you know that if you kill me, you inherit my wealth. Not just you. If anybody kills me, you inherit it so be smart and hire an assassin so you aren’t implicated.’

‘If I hit the acorn, will you stop talking?’

Eris flashed her a grin. ‘I will stop talking whether you hit it or not.’

A cold sluice of dread ran through her veins. How had it come to this? She was offered the chance at killing Eris Vanserra and Nesta worried she would. She didn’t want to kill him. He had to be completely mad to stand in her line of attack. Eris had seen what she had done in the war. All around them were rotting, scorch marks where her fire had galloped away. She’d felled four trees that were likely older than Eris.

‘I’m scared.’

‘The feeling is mutual,’ he called, gesturing to the acorn. 

Nesta loosened a part of her power, imagining slowly turning a tap, careful to strike a balance between a drip and a gush. Aim. Aim, she told herself. The acorn was tilted on its side, nestled on a bed of leaves. Think of that, and only that, Eris had instructed when she began their lesson for the day. 

By some miracle of the Mother herself, the acorn was rotted in a pile of slimy leaves and Eris stood standing. 

‘Excellent. Do it again.’

‘I can’t.’

He raised a brow and stepped closer. ‘Why?’

Nesta swallowed trying to moisten the dryness of her throat. They’d drank both water skins already. She hadn’t known training magic was as physically exerting as training with weapons. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

‘A noble statement, but will you tell me the truth?’

How could he see through her lies? Nobody else ever had. Or perhaps nobody had cared to look for the truth that she hid away. 

‘I’m too tired. I can’t do it again. I’ll lose control. I’m exhausted, Eris.’

The male surprised her with a smile and a drape of his arm around her shoulders. ‘Perfect answer. Part of training is learning your limits. For many, their magic runs low and they have no more to give. You have the opposite problem. Your magic has so much more to set loose on the world but your body isn’t ready to handle it. It doesn’t make you weak to need to stop.’

Grateful, Nesta nodded. She leant into his body when her legs felt too weak to stand. ‘I’ve never managed to be accurate like that before.’

‘We just had to up the stakes a little. Perhaps you think you want to kill me sometimes, but your heart told a different story.’

She rested on a log while he whistled for the dogs to come back. One by one, they raced back to their master where they were met with fuss. Nesta even joined in, leaning forwards to lavish them with love so she was met with wet noses and hot licks.

‘When can I see Maceo again?’

Eris ended up on his backside, jostled about by overzealous dogs - not that he seemed to mind. He grappled with Safera, pulling her down to his lap. ‘I cannot bring him here. My father despises the male. We’ll figure something out.’

‘I thought he taught you all - and Beron.’

‘Indeed. But my father blames Maceo for planting ideas in Lucien’s head about breeding with lesser fae and seeing them as equals.’

‘Jesminda?’

Eris’ face threatened to buckle with regret as he nodded. 

‘Lucien is a far better male than any you will meet. He will not stay quiet in situations of injustice. He has a good heart. Lucien made himself a hero of the lesser fae here by presenting their ideas at court, befriending them, loving them. He will stand up for those who need it.’ Eris rose to his feet. ‘Unlike me with my shrivelled, black heart that cares for nothing but myself.’

‘Not true,’ Nesta protested. ‘You have twelve dogs you are obsessed with.’ 

‘Twelve dogs that will eat my corpse when I die with no hesitation.’

He extended a hand to haul her to her feet. Her legs were unsteady. But her lessons were not finished. She had sat in the saddle while Eris had led the horse, and she was expected to do the same on the way back. Riding made her legs feel even more strange.

‘We’ll have a rest when we return. You need your energy because I’m keeping you awake all night.’

Nesta blinked at him. A magnificent rose hue spread up Eris’ neck, even turning his ears red.

‘I didn’t mean that.’ Eris sounded horrified. ‘At night, I thought we could visit Orla. That’s why you’ll need energy. Not that.’

He made a sort of choking noise that had Nesta completely enthralled.

‘Not that doing that with you would be unpleasant. That was not my intention. It won’t be my intention. I certainly won’t keep you awake like that. You need to rest because… Help me.’

‘Should I fetch you a ladder to climb out of the hole you’re digging for yourself?’

‘I’d prefer a noose.’

Never before had she seen the heir flustered. He was tongue-tied, tripping over words, tugging at his collar to get some air to his flushed skin. The cool veneer had cracked. The usual, polished disdain was lost entirely. Nesta couldn’t help herself from laughing. He was all the better for it.

‘Do you think you’d manage to lift me onto the horse or is my presence too bewitching?’

Eris rolled his eyes, some semblance of the male she was accustomed to returning. ‘I bet you had all the mortal males falling to their knees.’

Despite Nesta’s protests that she didn’t want to rest before they ventured out to Orla’s that night, she did find herself lulled into a sleep. Her book grew more and more difficult to read as her eyelids drooped. The puppy slept behind her head on the arm of the couch, his soft snores tickling against her ear. Eris had lifted her feet into his lap as he read reports when she’d returned from the shower, but even he seemed to be reading slower than usual, pausing occasionally to yawn.

She let sleep take her.

A short while later, she woke to Eris’ foot in her backside. The room was delightfully cosy, tempting her to close her heavy eyes once more. A blanket had been slung over her. At the other end of the couch, Eris had propped a cushion beneath his cheek and had shifted slightly to nap too. One of his hands rested on her cold foot beneath the blanket. A calmness washed over her. She was napping. With Eris Vanserra. And she didn’t want the moment to end. It wasn’t the desperation for sleep to temporarily stop existing as she was used to wanting, but a desire to sleep more because she was so cosy and comfortable. Nesta was safe with Eris.

As she was drifting back into slumber, a hard knock sounded, making the three dogs in the room bark. Eris jerked awake, swinging his legs off the couch and striding to the door, oblivious to the messiness of his hair or the lines pressed into his face.

‘The high lord requests your presence at dinner,’ came a male’s voice. ‘It commences in thirty minutes.’

In a voice barely audible in the quiet room, the servant continued. ‘He will press you on the conception of a child, my lord.’

‘Splendid.’

Once certain he had shielded the room, Nesta rounded on him. ‘Do you have a good lie?’

‘Fae babes are rare. My father should be realistic in his expectations.’

‘And will he be?’

Eris prowled into the bedroom. A servant had been in that day to tidy the room and repair the broken door. He searched for clothes from the wardrobe for them to wear – complimentary of each other, of course.

‘It will be my failing. I’m sure he’ll tell me I’m not a real male and offer one of my brothers up for the occasion. Females say Phelan is the most attractive after Lucien, if you’d like to choose.’

Nesta pursed her lips, not enjoying his games today. Eris held up a golden gown against her cheek to check the contrast to her skin.

The knock at the door came too soon for Nesta’s liking. A servant had only just finished pinning her hair into an intricate style that she’d need help loosening at bed time when it came. Her gown was exquisite – but too much for a dinner. Still, Nesta doubted she would eat much under the scrutiny of Beron Vanserra. She was an object to be admired, nothing more.

Eris led the way through the corridors, but kept Nesta close rather than have her trailing behind him like before. They would be united. That was their best defence against Beron.

One brother already stood with a rigid spine behind his chair when they entered the dining room. Uther was his name. This was the brother that Eris had warned her from. If you ever find yourself alone with him, you must lie and escape. Failing that, strike first. Eris had not gone into detail, but from the callous look in Uther’s eyes as he brazenly examined Nesta’s body, she did not need to imagine.  

It was far too large a room, imposingly large. A bear skin spread out in front of the fire where one of Beron’s hounds lay, sucking marrow from a bone. It was the same breed as Eris’ dogs, but Nesta could tell this dog would listen to only one master.

Eris had coached her through the dinner, of what to do, what to expect. She knew she must stand in silence until the high lord entered. And only when he permitted it, could they sit. Nesta struggled to imagine Lucien and Eris being put through it every day.

The final two brothers entered, their conversation stopping abruptly. One bore a striking resemblance to Eris though he was stockier and smaller, his hair closer to the fire of Lucien’s. The other was brown haired like Uther, but it fell almost to his shoulders in waves. He was unshaved and had the same russet eyes as his mother. He gave Nesta a lopsided, confident smile. Phelon, second-born, Nesta decided, which left the stocky brother to be Xander.  

Before Nesta could catalogue the brothers once more, a terse silence fell upon the room as Beron’s shadow entered before him. The high lord strode in. Without command, the hound abandoned its bone and came to stalk alongside his master. The lady of the court followed in behind him, head bowed. When Beron sat, so did his beast.

At once, servants scurried to him, filling his plate with the dishes on offer. He clicked his fingers for a goblet of wine to be pressed into his hand, seemingly unable to reach for it himself.

The venison bled onto the plate as he ate. Nesta tried not to shift on her feet, tried to remain as still as the figures around the table. It surely had to be a joke. This could not be the life the Vanserras endured. Nesta could not risk a glance to the lady of the court, but her sudden bravery on the day of Nesta’s wedding was all the more potent now. She had been ready to risk everything for a female she didn’t know to give Nesta her freedom.

Once most of Beron’s plate had been cleared, he grunted, ‘Sit.’

Eris drew the chair back for Nesta then moved to his mother, doing the same for her. Most of the food was cold by the time they had been permitted to eat. Nesta had to give Beron’s sons credit for not murdering him, she certainly was contemplating it. There was no reason to make them stand while he ate besides dominance.

Only one forkful into her cold venison and the question came.

‘Why is she not with child yet?’

‘These things take time,’ came Eris’ curt reply.

Beron snorted, disdain for his son painted across his features. ‘I sired seven sons. Your mother was pregnant with you on our wedding night. If you are unable to produce an heir, perhaps your wife needs a different male.’

It was what they expected. Eris had prepared her for it already, well used to his father’s crass remarks. Nesta glanced up, accidentally catching Phelan’s eye so her cheeks scorched.

‘I’ll cut off the hand of any male who dares to try and touch my wife,’ replied Eris. There was a lethal edge to his voice, a warning beneath the surface to his brothers. A riptide ready to drown them the moment they came too close.

‘I don’t think you’re trying hard enough.’ Beron clicked his fingers, signalling to the servants to clear away the dinner despite the fact everyone except him was still eating. Nesta’s plate was snatched from her then a servant hovered next to her, awaiting the cutlery still clutched in her hands.

‘Should I be breaking the legs of the bed or should I take my wife upon your throne to prove how hard I'm trying?’

Nesta was sure that pride shone in Beron’s eyes at his son’s challenge. That soon shifted to an unpleasant grin. ‘Mount her here. Prove to all of us you know exactly how to bed your wife.’

Eris faltered. The usual slick replies not coming. Heat crawled up her spine. A silent plea was sent up to the Mother. Nesta would believe in her if the goddess saved her from this embarrassment.

‘I will not subject my wife to this humiliation.’

‘You are weak. Ruled by emotion. It will be your ruin.’

‘My wife is my equal. I will not stamp on her like you have done to your own wife.’

The silence stretched on and on.

A buzzing sounded in Nesta’s ears.

Beron rolled back his sleeves. A look that sent shivers down Nesta’s spine was given to his eldest.

‘To the cellars.’

The males rose and followed their father out from the dining room. A nervous, bubbling energy exuded from three of them. Eris shook his head slightly when Nesta made to follow.

Any hope of speaking with her mother-in-law was dashed as sentries filed in to escort both of them, separately, back to their rooms.

Nesta sat on the edge of the couch, a dagger clutched in her sweaty hands waiting for Eris to return to her. The dogs in the lounge seemed to pick up on her nerves and came to sit beside her, ears pricked up in the air awaiting their master. Minutes ticked by and there was still no sign of Eris. He’d said his comment about his mother to sway Beron’s attention. He’d said it for her. To stop her from being put through the embarrassment of having to sleep with Eris in front of his family. She could only imagine what punishment Beron was putting Eris through as a result.

Tears pricked at her eyes. Nobody had ever given so much for Nesta. And Eris had no reason for it. Again and again, he’d backed up his words, proved he’d protect her. She hadn’t known how much she had needed somebody like him until he pushed into her life. It couldn’t all be him. Nesta had to give to him as much as he gave to her. They were partners. Married. He should be able to lean on her as much as she leant on him.

From that day on, she was no longer Nesta Archeron. She would forever be Nesta Vanserra.

@owllover123 @rarephloxes @fanboy7794 @sugardoll22 @kitkat-writes-stuff @this-is-rochelle @sv0430

[hismercytomyjustice]

I want to write right now but my brain is such mush. (ಥ﹏ಥ) I knew it would be, trips always take so much out of me, but it’s so frustrating. I have been running around nonstop since Sunday and damn if it isn’t hitting me like a freight train now.

My husband picked me up at the airport and I ate lunch before immediately passing out for a few hours. And then I managed to get up long enough to shower. And have been trying to stay awake/feel like my brain is still in my head ever since.

I am not the type to just start nodding off, but I did on the flight to NY and back and in my Uber to the airport yesterday. Everything has just been so exhausting.

Thank fuck for noise cancelling headphones, Loop earplugs, fidget toys, and extra anxiety meds because idk how I would have functioned without them. It is WILD how much of a difference using the Loops/noise cancelling headphones makes. I go from wanting to start screaming/crying or wanting to run away to being able to actually function and not feel like I’m dying after. Well, mostly anyway.

I barely slept Sunday night because I procrastinated and was panic packing and then had to get up early (6:20ish) to go to the airport. Then I got to the hotel around 12:30 Monday and even tho I requested an early check in, I didn’t get my room until 2:30. Meanwhile all my coworkers got theirs and abandoned me to just sit in the lobby anxiously looking at my watch while I hoped and prayed I’d be able to get to my room before our first session at 3. Apparently the entire hotel was sold out.

I’d been banking on getting to check in, maybe nap, and hopefully shower and change before the sessions started. Instead I got to check in, change clothes, and then just about sprint to the first session. They told us it was a 5min walk from the hotel to the tower but it was closer to 15. I don’t tolerate heat well so I was sweating buckets by the time I got there.

I didn’t have time to get my actual badge or get my hand scanned for the biometric entry. And even tho they looked me up and knew I was an employee and had a badge waiting for me (had to present my ID), I still needed to have someone in the building to come down and vouch for me? Place was sealed up like damn Fort Knox. I couldn’t get to the lobby without going through security, and even tho i had a temporary employee badge with the floors I needed access to printed on it, I couldn't get on or off any of the floors without someone with an actual badge.

Then we were out until 8pm with our team. Basically got back to the hotel and showered and crashed before having to be back in the lobby by 7:15 the next morning to walk back to the tower. We were in sessions from 7:30 to 5:30pm with barely any time for a bathroom break let alone a break to check on work stuff. I had to spend two of our tiny breaks trying to get my badge, but I finally got it. Then dinner was at 6 and ended after 8. Me and a few of my coworkers walked to the marina and took some photos there. Got back to the hotel around 9. Showered and passed out again.

Then had to check out and be back at the tower with all our stuff before 8am on Wednesday. I took an Uber because I didn't want to drag my heavy ass bookbag and suitcase for a 15min walk. We were in sessions again until almost 3pm. At which point I went straight to the airport. It took almost an hour to get there by Uber, so I was working on my phone the whole time. Got through security and even boarded the plane before they told us our flight was cancelled and we needed to deplane.

I can count on one hand the number of times I've had to fly somewhere so I had no clue how a cancelled flight worked. And flights were getting cancelled all over the city. I stood in a line around 50 people deep to wait for the help desk. They told us to rebook on the app so I stepped out of line and was looking at flights when they finally allowed me to try and rebook. The only other direct flight was Thursday at 7:35pm otherwise I’d have 1-2 layovers for a flight that should only take 2 hours.

Thankfully they made a new flight for us that we were automatically booked for. I got back in the now even longer line to ask about vouchers for food/transportation/lodging per my manager’s instructions. They told us nothing was on offer because the cancellation was due to weather.

So THEN I was scrambling to find a hotel for the night. Along with every other stranded passenger. All the cheaper ones by the airport were full. I’m hoping work will comp me for my hotel last night but am not 100% sure so I didn’t want to book a $500 a night stay closer to the airport. So I booked a hotel in NJ that was 15 miles away. It took an hour to get there by Uber. I checked in around 10 and just dissociated in my room for like an hour lol.

Then I showered and went to bed. Got up at around seven to repack my luggage and get another hour long Uber ride back to the airport. Thank god my flight was on time and everything went smoothly from there and now I’m home again.

I’m mentally and physically exhausted and probably will be for another day or two, which sucks. I hate it takes me so long to recover from stuff like this. BUT THAT’S NOT SELF-COMPASSION. I will be a potato tomorrow and maybe Saturday. Hoping to feel marginally human by Sunday.

BUT. I’m actually really proud of myself for figuring shit out when my flight got cancelled. I don’t travel and I certainly don’t travel alone unless I absolutely have to. But I persevered and got a hotel and got back home in one piece! I didn’t panic! It may have been because I took my extra anxiety meds pre-flight that didn’t happen, but regardless I feel like I did so well given everything that happened! Especially only having been to NYC only once before as part of a high school trip in 2007.

I hadn’t even taken an Uber by myself before this trip! I found the office all by myself the first time! I didn’t even get lost in the process! When I have 100% gotten lost in Raleigh before, which is SO MUCH SMALLER THAN NYC. I survived not one but TWO brand new (to me) airports! And my ADHD and OCD mostly cooperated the whole time! Success after success after success!

Tbh I had a lot more fun than I expected to and it was really nice getting to see my coworkers in person. We’re all virtual and only ever met once before last year in New Orleans, but that was a trip including almost 1k people from our org. This was our first time together with just our team.

Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE being virtual, but there’s something to be said for seeing colleagues in person too. At least once in a while!

I’ll probably post more about the trip in the days to come as I still process a lot of it, but overall I had a much better time than I expected to!

I also got to meet more of the sales reps I support and it was so funny to have them just yell out customer names I’d helped them with at me when they saw me haha!!! Glad to know I’m making a positive impact! ꉂ (´∀｀)ʱªʱªʱª It’s so easy to feel very siloed while being virtual. It was nice getting a reminder that they’re actual people I’ve helped and that they appreciate said help!

[libraryofloveletters]

The Babysitter

Chapter One: First Name Basis 

Nick Amaro x Fem!Reader

Series Summary: Nick wasn't looking for love and you weren't looking for a job. A phone call and one day together seemed to change both of your lives. for better or for worse ? that’s up to you.

Warnings: Reader is 19, shameless flirting but they’re both too shy, a millisecond of angst at the end. 

Word Count: 2746 words 

Author’s Note: Hi honeys!! this is my Nick series cause I’m back in my feels for him and I can’t get rid of the idea so here we are. // this won’t exactly follow canon so just go with it. 

the babysitter taglist :)  // series masterlist

---- 

Things had been a struggle to say the least. Maria upping and taking the job in DC threw Nick for a loop. Especially when she left Zara with him and it wasn’t like he didn’t love his daughter because he did. It was the fact that they had to find the rhythm of things without Maria which was 10x harder now that they had both just adjusted to her being there.

When his nosy neighbour decided to chat him up one afternoon as their kids played with Zara in the front yard, Nick wanted nothing more than to fling himself off a building. 

“I had this wonderful girl named y/n babysit the kids when Jack and I wanted a date night,” the woman smiles at Nick. “She’s in college now so she’s a bit busy but I’m sure she can make it work if you want her number. A call won’t hurt.” 

Nick took the number from his neighbour, calling Zara in for dinner in hopes to get away from his neighbour. He thanked her for the number and promised they’d come over for dinner soon- even though he knew they would not be going over there anytime soon. 

Nick sat beside Zara on the couch, the little girl cuddled into his side. He glances down at his daughter, her eyes heavy with sleep but she keeps forcing herself to stay awake as she wants to finish the movie. 

“Babygirl, c’mon. Time for bed.” Nick lifts her up off the couch, she groans. 

“Dad!” She scolded him, groaning all the way to her bedroom. Nick sets her down on the bed. “Do you want me to stay or are you okay?” He asks, making his way around her room to make sure the windows are locked. 

She shakes her head, pulling the blanket up over her as she scoots down and makes herself comfortable. Nick smiles at the little girl, tucking in the edges of her blanket before pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

“I’ll be just down the hall if you need me, baby.” Zara sighs, looking up at her father. “I know dad, I'm not a baby.” She tells him matter of factly tone, making Nick shake his head in amusement. 

He raises his hands in surrender. “Whatever you say. Goodnight kiddo.” “Night dad,” she smiles at him, watching as he shuts the door. 

--

Nick finds himself in bed, it’s half past one in the morning and he can’t seem to settle down. Begrudgingly, he drags himself from bed and makes his way to the kitchen. 

He tumbles through the cabinets - tea, come on, I know I bought tea at some point. 

The tea seemed to be hidden behind a few different types of coffee stored in various shaped bottles. He made a mental note to clean the cabinets the next time he had some free time. Nick went through the motions- put the tea bag in the mug, fill the kettle with water, set it to boil and now he waits. 

His phone sat disregarded on the counter, the conversation with his neighbour replaying in his head. “A call won’t hurt.” 

Nick needed the help desperately. Even if he couldn't admit that to others, he could admit that to himself. 

Considering the time, Nick thought a text would be more considerate. You could always return his text in the morning. He hesitated, only for a second. What kind of impression does it make that I’m awake at 1:56 in the morning and I’m texting a college student ? 

Pushing the thought aside, Nick drafts the text and reads it over 8 times before he actually sends it. 

From Nick: Hi y/n, I’m Nick. I got your number from my neighbour, Jessica. She mentioned that you babysat for her a few times and she couldn’t stop gushing about how great you were. I’m looking for a babysitter as well and I was wondering if you were available. Give me a text back or a call whenever it’s convenient for you. Thanks. 

He barely set the phone down to pour the boiled water into the mug when his phone chimed. 

To Nick: Hi Nick! I’m available! Could I give you a call now or would in the morning be better ? 

From Nick: Now is fine. 

Nick’s phone buzzed in his hand, he clicked the little green button before lifting the phone to his ear. “Hi!” you sounded half asleep yet somehow happy at the same time.  

“Hi y/n. Sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you.” he hums. 

“Totally fine, I was up doing class work anyways. Jessica told you about me huh? That woman doesn’t stop talking- not in a bad way of course. Oh man, I'm rambling aren’t I?” you sigh, Nick chuckles. 

He’s already taken a liking to you. 

“It's true. She never stops talking.” you both laugh before Nick speaks up. 

“I've got a daughter. Her name is Zara, she's 9. I drop her off to school in the mornings and I need someone to look in on her while I'm at work in the afternoons.” Nick tells you, you nod but then realize he can’t see it. 

“Would it be okay for you to come over and meet Zara ? I wouldn't want her to be uncomfortable and we can just gauge if it’s a good fit or not. We can discuss details if that’s okay with you?” Nick finishes.

“A straight to the point kind of man, I like you already, Nick.” 

Nick would be lying if he said his cheeks were a bit redder then they were moments ago. 

“When are you free?” he asks. “Tomorrow, well technically today. Up to you know, I don't know if you're busy or anything.” 

“Tomorrow is fine, I'll text you the address.” 

“Oh wait! I gotta ask since I’m coming to your place, you're not a serial killer or anything right ?” Nick laughed at your question, his hand pressed over his mouth so he could muffle the sound, hoping not to wake Zara. 

“No, actually I'm a cop.” 

“Haha, very funny- wait, are you actually a cop?” 

“Yeah, but I'll see you tomorrow ?” he asks, you nod once again and realize the same thing. 

“Yeah, goodnight Nick.” 

“Goodnight y/n.” 

That twang in his stomach made him want to take a cold shower. If the sound of your voice made him feel this way, what is he going to do when he meets you? 

Little did he know, you were giddily skipping around your room. You had the same feeling about Nick. Something about him and the way he spoke had you in a sort of trace, you were itching to meet him. 

---- 

The doorbell rang, you waited on the front steps as you heard someone shout something resembling the word coming. The door opens and a man is standing in front of you- tall, handsome, tan skin, brown hair to match his eyes, dressed in jeans and a blue polo. 

“Hi, you must be y/n?” he stuck his hand out, yours reaching for his. “I am, it's nice to meet you.” you smile when your hand reaches his.

“Please, come in.” Nick steps aside and lets you in. When you walk in, you see a little girl sitting on the couch. Her long brown hair matched her eyes, it’s clear who she looked like. 

“Zara, this is y/n. y/n, this is my daughter, Zara.” Nick introduced the two of you, Zara looking between you and her father, her face scrunched into a confused look. 

“Are you dad’s girlfriend ?” her question catches both you and Nick off guard. 

“I- uh, no.” you shook your head, biting back a laugh. Nick’s face was red, his eyes glued to the girl on the couch, his brows furrowed. 

You watched the exchange between the pair, she looked so much like him. 

“She might be looking after you when you get home from school, I just wanted you two to meet.” he tells her, before ushering you towards the kitchen. 

Nick steps by you, reaching for a glass in the cupboard. “Can I get you something to drink?” 

“I’m alright, thanks.” you smile, admiring the man as he leans in to grab something from the fridge. 

There was no way he didn’t know he was attractive, he exuded this masculine energy that you couldn't seem to find in anyone else. The way his blue polo clung to him was enough to make a girl swoon. 

Nick hands you a glass of lemonade even after you mentioned that you were okay. “What’s your class schedule like ?”

“Not too busy, most of my classes are in the mornings so I’m free anytime after 2:30 and I have one evening class on Thursdays but the professor is pretty lenient. He knows some people aren’t able to make night classes in person so he live streams them.” 

“Perfect. Zara is off school at 3:10 and she walks home with Jessica and her kids. Would you be able to pick her up from Jessica’s and hang out with her here until I'm home ?” 

“What time are you off?” “It depends on what we’re working.” 

“I take it you’re not a patrol cop then?” you take a sip of the lemonade. 

“Detective Nick Amaro, Special Victims Unit” he takes a little bow making you giggle. 

“So tell me, do I call you detective Amaro then?” 

“Nick is fine, but just for you.” he teases and your cheeks flush red.

Changing the topic back to Zara, you look at him. “I can stay here with her as long as you’re okay with me doing my work and whatnot.” 

Nick smiles, his hand resting on your bicep. “Of course, if you're gonna be here, I want you to be comfortable.” 

You’re blushing, you can feel it. 

Nick glances at Zara, moving his hand from your arm. “Baby, come here.” Nick calls for Zara, your heart flutters when you hear the word slip past his lips- Oh his lips were perfect and pink and kissable. How you wanted to kiss- 

“Y/n, do you like baking?” The little girl was in front of you, looking up at you. 

“I love baking, I take it that you do too?” You smile at her, she nods with a smile on her face. “I have the best brownie recipe!” she gushes, grabbing your hand and pulling you off with her. 

You follow her, glancing back at Nick who was smiling at you two. He couldn't remember the last time he saw Zara excited like that. He knew how much she liked to try new things. She used to bake with her grandmother but when Maria came back, he figured she would pick up that but she didn’t and that put a halt in her hobby. 

Nick finds the two of you in Zara’s bedroom. Zara had a book in her lap, pointing to different pictures. “This one seems cool, look at the frosting!” she points out, showing you the blue swirled frosting on top of the cake. 

You glance at Nick who was leaning on the door frame, “well, when’s your dad’s birthday? We can make it for him.” 

“Yeah!!” Zara leaned to look at her father, “can y/n stay for dinner ?” 

“Oh- you gotta ask her sweetheart. It's okay with me.” Nick tells her before leaving the two of you in her room. He wanted the two of you to get to know each other without him peering in all the time. 

---

Somehow you ended up spending the entire afternoon with Nick and Zara. It was a little past 7 and the sun was starting to set. Nick sat next to you in the front steps of his house, watching as Zara rolled up and down the driveway on her scooter. 

The breeze blew, the sudden coldness causing you to shiver and wrap your arms around yourself. Nick noticed the shiver, his arm wrapping around you instinctively as his hand rubbed against your arm in an attempt to warm you up. 

Anyone passing by could easily mistake you two for a couple watching your kid but you weren't. 

In fact, you were just the babysitter and he was your boss but that didn't seem to stop you as you shifted towards Nick. “Still cold ?” He glances at you, you shrug. 

“Watch her, I'll be back.” He gets up, the loss of warmth makes you shiver again. 

It was only a few minutes later that Nick returned in a black V-neck sweater and two other hoodies in his hand. “Zara! If you're gonna stay out here, you need a sweater!” he calls for her and she comes running over. 

She pouts, “it’s not cold dad.” Nick almost gives into her, she has that man wrapped around her finger and she knows it. 

He steps down to her level, kneeling in front of her and helps her pull on her purple sweater. 

Nick kisses her forehead, “15 minutes then we’re going back inside.” he shouts to her as she runs off back to her scooter. He returns to his spot beside you, handing the navy blue hoodie to you. 

Passing the hoodie back to him, “Nick, I’m fine.” You just met the man, you can’t take his hoodie. 

“Y/n, don’t be difficult.” He drops the hoodie in your lap. “Don’t pull a Zara on me.” He looks over at you, a semi stern look in his face but there was a glint of mischief in those brown eyes of his. 

Sighing, you give in and pull the hoodie over your head. It was slightly big on you, but comfortably so. It was warm and smelt like Nick, manly but not in an overpowering way. 

His eyes were on you and you could feel it. “How do I look?” shifting on the steps, you look up at him. 

“Like you’re ready to join the academy.” he gives you a small smile, your brows furrow before looking down. 

The letters NYPD written across the front on big bold yellow letters. “Haha, very funny detective.” You roll your eyes playfully. Nick gives you a nudge with his shoulder, smiling before looking over at Zara. 

“She really likes you, y’know?” “I like her too, she's a good kid.” 

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you but curiosity killed the cat and you had to ask. 

“If I can ask, where’s her mom?” Elbows propped on your thighs and your chin resting in your palm when you look over at the man next to you. His expression hardens before he lets out a sigh. 

“Took a job in DC.”

“So.. you two aren’t together ?”

Nick turns to you, eyes flickering over your face. “Are you always this nosy?” 

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. “I- sorry I didn’t mean to pry.” mumbling, you turn your attention back to Zara. 

Nick signs, running a hand through his hair. “No, I’m sorry. It’s fine for you to ask, I just- I don’t really talk about her. I would assume our marriage is over but neither of us said that. I think there’s someone else but again, nothing’s been said.” 

Nick watches you watching him, his head tilting to the side and you mirror his actions. The two of you are smiling at each other like a bunch of teenagers in love. 

It's disgustingly domestic. 

“Sorry to unpack that on you, I barely know you.” He chuckles, resting a hand on yours. You shake your head, your free hand resting on his. “It’s fine.” you smile. 

There’s a sadness in his voice but nothing is evident on his face. How could someone who's clearly hurting be so.. normal ? 

That was the moment you vowed to never hurt him. 

You couldn't. 

---- 

taglist: @hurricanejjareau​ @hes-going-to-sacrifice-himself​ @aineagrey​ @fighterkimburgess​ cause you all told me to do it :) @hanan6450 

[hpimaginesandblurbs]

a remus lupin smut after the full moon where reader takes care of him and it’s just soft and sweet and nice <3

pairing: young remus lupin x reader 

warning(s): 18+, handjob, so much fluff

word count: 1.4k 

a/n: this one kinda made me sad to write and i couldn’t stop thinking about atyd the whole time. i just wish remus got all the love he deserved. 

“Everything hurts,” Remus mumbled into his pillow, laying on his stomach, finally able to lay down after his long trek up to the Gryffindor Tower. The both of you were laying on his bed, curtains pulled with a silencing charm in place so the other boys wouldn’t hear you muffled conversation. 

The full moon was last night and, as always, Madam Pomfrey kept him in the Hospital Wing for the day to make sure he was alright. He had slept most of the day, but you could tell your boyfriend was still exhausted and in pain. 

It was like this after every full moon since he had told you about his lycanthropy. Just you and him in his tiny twin bed, curtains drawn and just in your own world. It was what he needed, he had told you once. Just you to hold him and be there with him after a terrible night. Even with the boys joining him, it wasn’t an enjoyable experience. You were just happy to be of some comfort to him.

“Maybe a massage would help?” You asked, lightly stroking his arm as you laid with him. Anything you could do after the full moon to help him, you would. It was a promise you had made yourself immediately after he told you about his ‘furry little problem’ as the boys so eloquently named it. You knew it was a major step for him to take with you, and you would do your best to make sure he was okay at all costs. 

“That sounds nice, love,” he said, giving you a small smile but you could see the tension he held in his eyes. 

“Do you want to take your shirt off or leave it on?” You asked gently, maneuvering your body so you were straddling his waist. You felt him tense underneath you, barely breathing. That was never good. “Re?” 

“Ther- There’s another scar,” he said into the pillow. It was muffled but you heard him loud and clear. You took a deep breath bur pressed on. 

“Can I lift your shirt so I can see it? I just want to be careful,” you told him softly, trying to keep him as comfortable as possible. You knew he hated his scars, but you always made it a point to give them love. Every last one of them. You saw him nod into the pillow and you slowly dragged his shirt up his back until it was tucked under his armpits. 

There was an ugly scar across the bottom of his back, still red and healing. Madam Pomfrey had clearly applied Dittany to it, but it would most likely take the week to heal. 

“Thank you,” you said softly and immediately began digging your fingers into his shoulders. 

He tensed and relaxed under you whenever you hit a new spot. You worked out knot after knot, slowly trailing down his back as you went. Your own hands were tense by the time you finished, but it was worth it because he was not boneless against the sheets. For a moment his shallow breathing made you believe he was asleep, but he stirred to reach his hand out for you. 

You took his hand and fell down on the bed beside him. He was looking at you with a small smile again, but this time the smile reached his eyes. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, shifting his body so you were lying face to face. 

“Anytime,” you replied, brushing him off easily. You didn’t want him to make a big deal about your acts of service. He deserved them just like anyone else. Hopefully one day he’d realize it. 

You leaned in for a soft kiss which quickly turned heated, but he eventually pulled away, knowing he was in no shape for sex tonight. It didn’t stop you from looking down though, just in case. And just as you suspected, there was a prominent bulge in his sweatpants, just the outline of it making your mouth water. Werewolf or not, he was still just your horny boyfriend at the end of the day. 

“I can take care of that for you too if you want,” you said with a small smirk, nodding your head in the direction of his pants. 

“You don’t have to. We should probably just go to bed anyways,” he argued lightly, the tips of his ears turning pink at the knowledge that you had noticed his little problem. 

“Well I’m certainly not letting you go to bed uncomfortable. So yes or no?” You asked him simply. 

He gave you a quick nod, making you smile in return. You brought your lips back to his, locking him in a heated kiss, while you hand trailed down to his bulge. You palmed him for a moment, but shortly moved to pull down the front of his sweatpants only to find out he wasn’t wearing underwear. This man was out to kill you. 

You pulled his cock out his pants and gave it a quick stroke, making his hips stutter against your hand. You pulled your hand and lips away from him at the same time, bringing your hand up to lick a strip of spit onto it. He let out a groan watching you, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Your hand returned to his cock and he quickly pulled you back into a kiss. You started with slow strokes, bringing him to full hardness, before you sped up slightly. You wanted to keep things slow so as to not over excite him, but you also wanted to get him off. You were at the perfect speed to do both with a little bit on time. 

He left out a low moan into your mouth when you twisted your hand the way he liked which you swallowed up greedily. You moved your hand the same way again just to hear him make more noise. You loved how vocal he could be when you had your hands on him like this. 

You stayed steady like that for a few minutes, slowly moving him along to his release. Finally you felt his body tense and he said, “I’m gonna - fuck, Y/N”. 

You felt his cock twitch right before he spilled into your hand. You worked him through it until he was boneless once more on the bed and slowly backing his hips away from you. Once you were content that he was thoroughly finished, you gave him one last peck on the lips before moving for your wand to clean the both of you up. 

“I’m sorry I can’t return the favor,” he said once he got his breath back. 

“You’ll make it up to me. I know you,” you said, a smile growing on your face. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he mumbled, burying his face into your chest. 

“Good thing I’m never leaving, hm?” You replied with a giggle. 

You expected him to make some witty response like he normally would, but when his head shot up with a look of concern in his eyes, you paused. “Please don’t,” he begged silently. 

Your heart broke just looking at him. This boy who you loved with your entire being, more than words could ever describe, was begging you to never leave him because he was infinitely ashamed of what he was. You never cared what he was, you only ever wanted him. You could almost laugh at the ridiculousness of it, but looking in his eyes again stopped you. 

“I’m never leaving. I promise. Even if you try to push me away I won’t leave. You’re mine and I’m yours. Forever. I promise,” you told him, your eyes never leaving his. 

You felt the relief fill his body and watched his eyes light up. “I love you,” he said, his voice raw with the emotions that he was trying to hold back. 

“I love you too, Re. So much. Now get some rest please. You need it,” you said, giving him a quick kiss to his forehead before you rested your head against his pillows. 

He didn’t put up a fight this time. Most of the time he did, trying his best to convince you he was fine until he couldn’t hide it anymore. But tonight he simply put his head back down on your chest and got comfortable, his arms looping their way around your body to hold you close and make sure you stayed there all night. 

You stayed awake until you heard his breathing out and his soft snores begin. You fell asleep with a small smile on your face, surrounded by Remus and the scent of him, just knowing tomorrow would be a better day for the both of you.

[waka-chan-out]

Jet Lag

based on this request

post-timeskip, obviously.

word count: 2.2k

content warnings: established relationship, somnophilia, consensual nonconsent, oral (f. recieving), light hair pulling, unprotected sex, creampie, technically cockwarming at the end?

i will reiterate that this is not dubcon or noncon. this is 100% consensual and that is written into the story. do not read if this concept is upsetting to you, but there is no surprise element of genuine nonconsent here. if you have questions, please read my explanation here.

When Kiyoomi’s eyes opened he realized it was still dark outside. He was jet-lagged after returning from his most recent tournament, and it was really getting on his nerves that he couldn’t sleep through the night. His hand absentmindedly combed through your hair. You were such a heavy sleeper, barely stirring even when he was restless and awake. You hummed and nuzzled further against his chest.

He grabbed his phone from the bedside table and checked the time. 4 am. Damn it. At least he was making some progress towards a full night of sleep. His few nights at a hotel on the way back had seen him waking just after midnight and falling asleep when the team was out to dinner, much to Atsumu’s delight. He flipped through the notifications he’d gotten since last night and miserably wondered why anyone would contact him at this hour.

Your hand shifted from around his waist. He glanced down in amusement. It dragged down towards his lower stomach, then back up to his chest. The touch sent goosebumps through his body. You continued the movement, massaging at his abdomen with a steady palm and wandering fingers. It was one part soothing, another part horrifyingly arousing.

Your hand slowed on his stomach, traveling father down and settling there. You had laid your hand right on his — shit. Was he hard?

Kiyoomi stared up at the ceiling. How desperate was he that a simple touch like that put him in this state?

He had to admit, though, your hand probably wasn’t the only reason he was like this. You had kicked down the sheets, exposing your bare legs where they were tangled with his. You were only wearing a large t shirt and an immodest pair of underwear. It all felt very deliberate, just like the way your hand was now resting directly on his achingly hard cock.

He slid his hand down your body and pulled up the side of your shirt. He carefully ran his fingers along your skin. He felt your stomach flutter at his touch, and you shifted so you were on your back, legs parted and abdomen exposed. Shit.

Kiyoomi let his hand glide under your shirt once again. His fingers traced along your skin to your chest, where he gently tugged at one of your nipples. You tipped your head to the side and he swore that you smiled in your sleep.

He continued the gentle slide of his fingers, moving between the soft buds until your hips were shifting against the bed. He smiled down at you. You looked so cute like this, responsive to him even in your sleep. He tried to be slow and patient, but the way your breath fluttered his hair made it hard to control himself.

He slid his hand down his boxers and, even though he was expecting it, he was still shocked by just how hard he was already. He closed his eyes at the feeling of his hand pumping up and down on his cock. It was good, so good, but it wasn’t enough.

He wanted to touch you. His hand felt okay but god, your skin was so soft and you were so receptive, even while asleep. He could see the deep rise and fall of your chest, your nipples peeking out from your soft shirt, the slight angle of your hips. Your words echoed in his head, telling him “it’s okay, you can wake me up. or not. i don’t mind.” He felt dirty, but you had made it clear that it was okay, welcome even.

He experimentally ran his hand down your figure again, stopping at the hem of your underwear. He pressed his hand between your legs, rubbing you gently through the cloth barrier. You hummed in your sleep and he smiled, pleased. He put a little more pressure in the movement, dragging his fingers over your clothed clit. You didn’t respond as much this time, but the way he could feel the fabric dampening under his touch told him everything he needed to know.

He continued to pump his cock as he pushed the fabric to the side to touch you for real. A small shudder left him as he felt just how ready you were for him, even fast asleep. You were his every second of the day, any time he wanted you.

He slowed his grip on himself and focused on slipping a finger inside of you. The angle was awkward, but he couldn’t resist adding another. Fuck, you were so wet. If he knew you’d react like this he would’ve taken advantage of your suggestion earlier. His hand on his cock felt so boring when you were right there, completely ready for him.

He removed his fingers and, before he could think it through, slipped them between his lips. Jesus. The taste on his tongue was too tempting. He carefully withdrew from beside you, holding the sheets up as he shifted between your legs.

You were always a heavy sleeper. That’s why even when he pressed his mouth against you and swirled his tongue, your only response was a shift of your hips. He sighed against you, trying to remember a the last time he had felt so at home somewhere. The tournament had taken him away from you for far too long, and he had passed out as soon as he crawled into bed with you. He hadn’t had time to show you how much he had missed you, not properly. You knew, of course, because he had called you at least twice, cock in hand, begging to hear about your day. You didn’t say anything about it, but he was sure you knew that he just desperately needed your voice in his ear as he came.

His grip on your thighs was usually almost bruising, but now it was light, a gentle loop around your thighs to keep you from shutting him out in your sleep. He wondered if he could make you come without waking you up. After you had told him you wanted this, he researched it, of course. He knew it was possible. Judging by the way your breathing was picking up, he might have a chance. Your body stayed mostly still against the bed, weighed down by the anchor of sleep. He wondered if you were aware of what was happening. He wondered if the feeling between your legs carried and he was fucking you in your dreams.

He got a little careless as he watched your face for every small reaction. Your breathing was uneven and your brow just slightly furrowed. He was trying to be gentle, but he couldn’t help running his tongue sloppily from your entrance to your clit and sucking. It caused your body to tense, and your hips shifted just slightly. He thought for a moment that you might wake up and, though he’d be a little disappointed, he knew you would bury your hands in his hair and pull just the way he liked and he’d forget to mind after all. But you didn’t wake up, and he realized you were shaking. Holy shit, he had been right. You were coming, so gently and quietly that he might not have noticed if he wasn’t so familiar with what every flex of your body meant.

He closed his eyes and continued the gentle curl of his tongue, not stopping until your body went still and you let out a small sigh. He pulled his head away and wiped his mouth on the collar of his shirt, more than pleased with himself. He shifted back beside you and was once again reminded just how hard he was, more so now than ever. He wanted you, so badly, and he couldn’t wait until the morning. Fuck, it was technically morning, and you had given him the okay, and you were already so wet that you’d probably barely notice the gentle push of his cock if he just lifted your leg and slipped inside.

He settled down beside you and wrapped a hand around your waist, trying to gently coax you onto your side. It took a moment of careful touches, slowly pulling you closer to him until you rolled and settled, back flush against his chest. He smiled and brushed your hair away from the back of your neck, pressing a kiss right at the nape as he slipped an arm under your pillow. The other he used to hold your leg up, right under the knee until he could get close and line himself up with your entrance. He continued pressing barely there kisses to your neck as he retook hold of your leg and, as slowly as he could with what remained of his self control, pushed inside of you.

He gasped and leaned his face into your hair, trying to anchor himself before he continued moving. It had been far too long since he had been able to bury himself inside of you, and fuck he had missed it. The arm under your pillow came up to grasp your opposite shoulder, keeping you held tightly against him.

He gathered his thoughts and drew his hips back. He moved slowly, gently, grinding into you rather than thrusting. He wanted to drag this out, wanted it to last, because you were so pliable and felt so good, it would be a waste to not take advantage of it. Every tender movement felt like its own little universe, hanging in the dark and silence and disappearing on his next exhale.

The only thing that could tear him from that world was the subtle twitch of your fingers, the nuzzle of your face against the pillow, then, finally, the steadying of your breath, pulled out of the long, slow rhythm of sleep.

You let out a small, sleepy noise, almost like you were stretching, and slipped a hand back to bury in his hair.

“Omi,” you mumbled. He smiled against your skin and continued his quiet shift inside of you.

“Shh. I’ve got you.” He sighed heavily, appreciating the new wiggle of your hips, like you were trying to press closer, bury him deeper. He held your leg tighter and pushed father on his next thrust in, holding himself inside of you. You let out a startled gasp and tightened your hand in his hair. He groaned, deep in his chest. Fuck, you could tear his hair out and he’d probably just pick up the pace.

He resumed his movement, not afraid of going a little harder now that you were awake. You were still groggy, but the way your hands gripped his wrist and his curls told him you were with him, feeling every bit as desperate and wanting as he was. His breath was coming in pants now, right in your ear, and he could feel you shivering at the feeling.

“Fuck,” he sighed. “You’re so good. Gonna make me come.”

You responded with a quiet moan, barely registering his words over the deep, delicious ache between your legs.

His rutted into you a little faster, as quick as he could stand when the haze of sleep was lurking at the back of both your minds. He let himself groan into your ear, not caring how needy he sounded. You were so good, and you felt so good, and you pulled his hair a little harder and he couldn’t stand it anymore.

His arms were rigid around you and he pushed his hips flush against you as he came. He let out what he was sure was the most desperate, fucked-out sound he had ever made, barely able to breathe as he spilled inside of you. There he was again, suspended in time, the darkness swallowing every breath as the fuzzy feeling in his brain faded, then disappeared.

He was left panting against you, vaguely aware that he was sweaty and horribly hot and you were combing your hand through his hair rather than pulling in. He tipped his head against your shoulder and let out a breathy laugh.

“Morning,” he said. You turned your face back and he met you with a kiss, gentle and a little sloppy because of the exhaustion settling through his body.

“Hi,” you whispered, smiling against his lips. He kissed you quickly, once, twice, and again, missing your mouth entirely on the last one. You laughed and he started to withdraw from you. You grabbed his hip before he could go any farther.

“Stay,” you said. He didn’t have the energy to ask what you were talking about, but you could hear the confusion in his tired grunt. “Sleep, Omi. Come here.” You grabbed his arm and pulled it around your waist, forcing him to settle closer, if that was possible, and press his face against the back of your neck. His eyes wouldn’t stay open, no matter how hard he tried to fight them. An unwavering heavy feeling spread through his body as he listened to your slowing breath and felt fingers running slowly through his now tangled curls.

The last thing he heard before his mind shut off entirely was an amused, whispered “I missed you.”

[wolferine]

Heart Skips a Beat - Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Natasha faces her worst nightmare when a rescue mission goes wrong…

Warnings: Violence, blood

Word Count: 1837

Part 1

Tags: @blkmxrvel @blackxwidowsxwife @marvelwomen-simp

When Natasha sees your eyes close, she finally comes back to her senses. She squirms away from Steve, crawling under an ambulance and making her way towards you. She ignores Steve telling her to stay put and doesn’t hear Clint telling police officers the direction the bullets came from. All she can think about is bringing you to safety.

The ambulance engine is still running, causing its underside to reach temperatures that make Natasha feel like she is hiding in a furnace. She holds her breath from the fumes as she crawls to the front of the vehicle, throwing her arm out and reaching for your hand.

“Y/N!” she screams. “I’m right here! Hold on!” Her fingertips brush yours and she grabs onto your wrist tightly. You��re bigger and heavier than her, but the adrenaline gives her strength. With a massive heave, she drags you under the ambulance. You smear through the puddle of your own blood and it soaks through the back of your shirt. 

There isn’t even enough room for her to lift her head, but she grabs onto both your arms, digging her elbows into the ground and crawling backwards. “I got you, Y/N. I got you,” she pants. But the lack of space and your deadweight make it impossible for her to pull you all the way through, so she backs out from under the ambulance. “Steve, help me!” she shouts.

“Move!” Steve says to her, although his shoulders are too broad to fit in the narrow gap. However, his arms are long enough to reach both of your hands, and all it takes is one big tug for you to come sliding out from the ambulance. 

Your eyes fly open suddenly, awakened by the agonizing pain coursing through your shoulder like a lightning bolt. You scream, and as much as it makes Natasha’s heart hurt, she’s glad to see that you’re still alive. 

“You guys need to get out of here right now!” Clint yells. “Take the ambulance!”

Steve pulls you into a standing position and wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you onto his shoulders effortlessly. You flop over him like a ragdoll, pain pulsing in your stomach when you bump against his chest.

BOOM.

A bullet shatters the sideview mirror of the ambulance.

“Go, go!” Natasha urges, putting herself between the danger and you and Steve. Steve runs with you to the back of the ambulance and flings the door open. There is no gurney, so Natasha helps him lay you on the floor and climbs in after you.

“Stay with Y/N. I’ll drive,” Steve offers, going around to the front. “Clint, we’re taking Y/N to the Quinjet! Hold the scene down!”

“Copy that!” Clint is just as concerned for your safety, but he knows you’re in good hands. Steve jumps into the driver’s seat and throws the ambulance in reverse.

BOOM.

The windshield explodes.

“Let’s go!” Natasha screams, ducking her head.

“Hold on!” Steve backs into a sharp U-turn. The tires screech as they find traction on the road to accelerate forward.

Natasha practically lays on top of you to prevent you from rolling around. From a shelf, she grabs a handful of gauze packets, tearing them open with her teeth. She rips your shirt open and presses the gauze first to your shoulder, then another to the side of your stomach. You’re completely soaked in blood and it continues to pump out of you with each heartbeat. Your face has faded to a sickly pale. 

“N-Nat,” you whisper, trying to move but pinned down by the pain. “N-Nat—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” she comforts. “Just keep your eyes open for me, okay?”

You see the blood smeared on her face, her neck, and her hands, too delirious to remember that it’s yours. “A-Are you h-hurt?” you stammer.

Natasha wants to laugh and cry at the same time. You’re so in love with her that even in the face of death you don’t even think about yourself. “No, I’m fine,” she says, grabbing onto your hand and interlocking your fingers. She looks over at Steve, veering through parked cars and roadblocks. “Can we hurry it up a little?” she asks in panic, even though she knows he’s driving as fast as he can.

“I’m trying!” Steve swerves around a fire hydrant and the sudden movement jolts everyone in the ambulance. Natasha presses down on you too hard and you grunt in pain.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “We’re almost there. We’re almost there.”

Your vision fades into fuzzy shapes and blurred colors. Even breathing seems to be too much of a task for you. Steve parks behind the Quinjet and comes around to help carry you in.

“Do you need me to go with you?” Steve asks as he lays you across the back seats of the Quinjet.

“No.” Natasha shakes her head. “Stay and help Barton.”

Steve doesn’t even try to argue. “We’ll find who did this, Nat. I promise.” He goes to the controls at the front and presses a few buttons. “The coordinates for the Tower are set. You’ll autopilot all the way there. Just make sure to update the medical team on Y/N’s condition.”

“Thanks, Steve.”

“Everything will be okay.” He places his hand on Natasha’s shoulder for a moment before jogging back to the ambulance. As soon as he’s off the Quinjet, the door raises shut and the engines blast on. You’re several states away from New York, but at the speeds the plane can travel, you should be there in minutes. You just have to hang on until then.

Natasha leaves your side only to grab more gauze, pressing it against your bullet wounds to slow the bleeding. She rolls you to your side so there’s no pressure on your front or back, but grimaces when she sees that your back looks as bad as your front.

“N-Nat,” you try whispering again, but she is quick to shush you.

“Not now, okay? Just stay awake for me, Y/N.”

You’ve never felt so weak before. It feels like you were hit by a bus and ground up by its tires. Your mind processes in slow-motion—probably a side effect of the blood loss—and you already forgot how you got into the Quinjet. But the physical pain isn’t your greatest concern anymore. You just don’t want to lose your fight and leave her.

Natasha fits an oxygen mask around your face and the cool air is comforting, but you know your time is ticking away. You don’t notice the Quinjet hiss to a landing or acknowledge the team of doctors suddenly hovering over you.

“We’ll do the surgery in room six!”

“Prep a blood transfusion!”

“Two gunshot wounds from a large-caliber gun!”

The doctors move you to a gurney and wheel you off the Quinjet. Natasha holds onto your hand as they take you to the surgery room, but a doctor stops her from entering with you.

“No, Romanoff. You gotta stay out here. We’ll take it from here.”

Natasha doesn’t fight back, letting your fingers slip through hers as you disappear behind the doors.

***********************************************************************

“Any updates?” Clint and Steve finally arrive a few hours later, but you’re still in surgery.

“Not yet.” Natasha paces the kitchen anxiously. Although she found the time to wash your blood off her hands and face, she hasn’t changed out of her uniform yet.

“Nat, you should get cleaned up. Y/N isn’t going anywhere,” Clint says.

“I know, I just…I want to be there when—” She can’t finish her sentence, falling into Clint’s arms and crying into his shoulder.

“Y/N is a fighter, remember?” Clint says, rubbing her back.

“But the amount of blood—”

“Super soldiers don’t go down easy,” Steve reminds her. “Y/N will pull through. And besides, you’ll be there to help with the recovery.”

Natasha nods, pulling away from Clint and wiping her face. “I’m sorry I froze when I saw Y/N get shot—”

“What are you apologizing for?” Clint asks.

“I don’t know—I put you all in danger because I couldn’t get myself out of the way—” she hiccups. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Steve assures. “In fact, you were the one who dragged Y/N to safety, remember? I couldn’t fit under the ambulance and Clint was just sitting around like a duck—”

“Excuse you,” Clint interrupts, and Natasha smiles thinly.  

“So, did you find who did this?” she asks.

“Uh—” Clint and Steve look at each other awkwardly. “Natasha, we—”

“Did you find them?” Natasha repeats with more force. Clint motions for Steve to explain.

“That’s the thing,” Steve says. “We don’t know who did this. We scoped out the whole area with the police. We went out more than a mile, but we couldn’t find anything. No shell casings, nothing.”

“Oh, so you’re telling me a ghost shot and tried to kill Y/N?” Natasha scoffs.

“No, we…” Steve tries to find the right words. “We think it was a setup, maybe like a hired assassin or something.”

“Who would want to kill Y/N?” Natasha asks.

“That’s what we need to figure out.”

Natasha knows you have a lot of baggage from your past, particularly when you were forced into illegal covert operations by the government. But it’s been a long time since then. You became your own person and changed your life for the better. Unfortunately, not everyone sees the side of you that Natasha and the Avengers do.

When Clint and Steve leave to shower and change, Natasha finally does the same. She dresses in clean clothes and curls up on your shared bed, inhaling your scent through the pillow and blankets.

Sometime later, Clint visits and knocks on the door. “Hey, Nat? Y/N just got out of surgery—” He doesn’t even get a chance to finish his sentence and is almost run over by Natasha as she hurries over to the medical bay. She doesn’t know which specific room they’re keeping you in, but it’s like she’s drawn to your very presence and finds the correct one instantly.

You lie upright in the bed, propped forward with pillows so there’s less pressure on your back. Your right arm is in a sling and your entire torso is wrapped in bandages. An IV drip leads into the veins on your hand, while a blood pouch sends blood into the vein inside of your elbow. You have an oxygen tube up your nose and looped around your ears.

“I heard the doctor went a little overboard on the anesthesia,” Clint says from behind Natasha, startling her. “You know, with the super soldier serum and everything. Y/N will probably be out of it for a while.” Natasha walks to your side and kneels, gently taking your hand. Your skin is clammy and colder than normal, but your pulse beats strongly.

“I’ll be here as long as it takes.” Natasha raises your hand, mindful of the wires around your wrist, and kisses your fingers.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Click here for Part 3!

AN: Thanks for the amazing support from everyone! Definitely didn’t think I’d get that kind of response, but I’m extremely grateful for you all. The next part will reveal the identity of the shooter, so I hope you’ll stick around for that. :) Peace out!