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chaotic-orphan · 11 months

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Villain was a lesser villain, often doing small jobs for bigger villains. He generally stays out of the spotlight, only participating to make ends meet. He goes mostly ignored up until he makes the mistake of acquainting himself with Supervillain. She takes an interest in him, drawing the attention of the heroes. When they find out about her big plan, they kidnap Villain and torture Villain for information he may or may not have. Their primary method is by forcing him to puke. His power is saliva-based acid generation.

Weirdest ask I have ever had, thank you. Enjoy!

Villain was asleep.

This was a good thing and a bad thing.

A good thing because finally the Heroes left him alone enough for him to be able to sleep properly, soundly, dreamlessly.

A bad thing because Darwin had just walked into his cell and was about to disturb his sweet, dreamless slumber to drag him back awake and onto the endless torture he is currently enduring under the Heroes care.

This time it was a bucket of ice water that was thrown in Villain’s face to wake him. Which, in hindsight, was quite tame of them. The Heroes must be getting soft on him.

He still gasped awake like he was a fish out of water and threw his body forwards in shock, only to have the leather restraints on his wrists and legs drag him back to the chair he was currently in.

“GOOD MORNING, VILLAIN!” Darwin bellowed, all teeth and smirking lips as he threw the bucket to the wall. “How are we doing today friend?”

“You’re such a fucking douchebag.”

“Ahhh!! Chipper as ever!” Darwin said, going to stand around the back of the chair. Villain was ready for the chair transitioning into a panel and sliding forwards slightly. “I’m here, of course, to talk about your friend, Supervillain. Tell me— why is currently burning half of the city alive?”

Villain’s eyes narrowed. Supervillain wouldn’t do that, she wouldn’t. She cared about people in the city. She wouldn’t hurt people.

“She’s not,” said Villain matter-of-factly, and Darwin grinned as he came to stand in front of Villain again.

“Aha!! I just cannot seem to fool you, Villain. I guess that is what endeared Supervillain to you in the first place, is it not?”

“It is not! I’m not friends with supervil—“ but Villain didn’t get to finish his sentence before Darwin’s fingers were down his throat, tickling his gag reflex and Villain could feel the acid climb his throat and Darwin gave a little laugh as he took his hand out, now made of gleaming titanium, and watched as Villain’s vomit joined the puddle from yesterday. Bubbling and frothing and green and vile.

Villain spit after it, the taste of Darwin’s sweaty hand making him want to vomit again. “Once, man. Just once would it kill you to wash your fucking hands?”

“I see! You want stick now, jah?” And Villain went pale.

“No. No, no no I don’t want the stick. Your hand is fine. I love the taste of the sweat and dirt and grim. Darwin? Darwin! DARWIN DON’T GET THE STICK PLEASE!”

“Well!! You must be want to tell me about your Supervillain friend now, hmm? Or perhaps… lover?” Darwin asked his eyebrows drawing up suggestively, pulling up a chair just before the vomit puddle between them.

“Okay,” Villain cried defeated. “Okay. I— I met Supervillain when I was doing a job. It was just a simple job, one of the best for Vulcan.”

“Ah yes. Fire breathing villain?”

“Jah,” said Villain, then said quickly: “yeah, I mean yeah. He employs me sometimes when he needs um, well, acid to burn through bank locks. I’m not proud of it, but it pays the rent okay? It’s an easy job too, he just wants me to vomit into tubes that he can throw and it’s like an acid bomb, right?”

“Right, jah. I follow. Continue.”

“So I was doing another job for him, it’s easy I can do it from home. Except he didn’t come to pick up the ship it was Supervillain who showed up at my door and she was very…”

Darwin tilted his head, nodding as he said: “sexy?”

“No!” Villain said quickly, then he coughed and said: “I mean like, she is very attractive—“

“I know this. That alone should be a crime!” Darwin cried and it almost looked like he was going to actually cry. Villain just cocked a brow.

“Uh, yeah. So anyways. She was very invasive, is what I meant to say. Wanted to know more about my power. Told me Vulcan did some jobs for her but he was messing her around with payments and stuff, so she wanted to get the acid bombs straight from me.”

“I see…” Darwin nodded. “So, she recruited you then?”

“No. Employed. Distantly! I promise. That’s all I do! I make the acid bombs, and then she gets someone to pick them up and that’s it!”

Darwin’s eyes narrowed. “I feel there is more to this story. You don’t tell me I get the stick.”

“Okay! Okay!” Villain said, licking his lips and clearing his throat. “So she came to me one night and she said she wanted to get a drop on the heroes and the Hero tower. So she asked me to help her.”

“Make more acid bombs?” Darwin asked and Villain nodded.

“Yeah kind of. Only her plan was far more ambitious than that.”

“Okay. Good. You tell Darwin and I will cut you down.”

“Well, she knew you were going to find me and torture me for information on here—“

Darwin let out a booming laugh. “Of course! Does her intelligence know no bounds? Oh what a criminal mastermind!”

Villain blinked. “Uh-huh. Anyways, she said since this was gonna happen anyways that I should allow myself to get caught and be tortured for a day or two until I created enough acid to create a hole big enough for her and her friends to crawl through and invade the Hero tower without raising the alarm.”

Darwin stood with such force his chair was forced back. “You what?” he asked, shocked but Villain was already vomiting, this time with his actual acid. The hole formed in the floor and there was Supervillain below in the sewer tunnels climbing out, somehow still looking immaculate like she was just off the red carpet.

Darwin’s eyes went wide. “S-s-supervillain,” Darwin said, his tan face gone pale and Supervillain grinned at him, strutting over and looking down at him.

“Darwin, my sweet Hero. Have you been torturing my Good Samaritan over here for information on me?”

Darwin nodded sadly. “Yes…”

“Oh dear. You could have just rang me.”

“But that is not professional! I can’t mix work and pleasure, you know this. Company policy.”

Supervillain frowned, her hand on his throat. “Pity.”

Villain heard the resounding crack, and flinched as she threw Darwin down the hole into the sewers. Then she turned to face Villain.

“You have done your job beautifully, darling. Now let me take it from here.”

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foreversecrets · 1 year

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When Steve Met Annie

The first part of my Rogers Family Expansion Series starting with Steve Rogers x OC (Annabelle Graham)

Summary: Its his mothers birthday and he's not the only one who wants to make it a good one.

Rating: General

His face was glued to his phone when he entered the elevator completely ignoring the other form who entered alongside him. The manners his mother instilled in him only broke him from the email he was composing long enough to press the button for the penthouse floor and inquire which floor the other person needs.

“Looks like we are going to the same place.” The sweet voice is like a splash of cold water as he registers where this stranger is going to the top floor where only two apartments reside and as far as he was aware the other was currently vacant while his mother resided in the other.

“Well, I can vouch for the penthouse, their security measures are top tier and they are quick about maintenance requests.” he tucks his phone into his pocket eager to hold a conversation with the green-eyed, brunette in the elevator with him.

“Oh, I’m not moving in, it's my boss’ birthday and I wanted to get to her before her kids got to her.” She smiled and motioned to the wrapped gift under one of her arms and the coffee cup with a small pastry bag in the other.

The big fearsome mob boss is not going to melt like a puddle towards this wholesome woman who’d he’d been completely unaware works for his mother. He is not going to be endeared by her kind, selfless actions to his stubborn and yielding mother who doesn’t even let him buy her gifts.

“Sarah Rogers?”

“Right, you’re going to the same floor, you must be one of Sarah’s sons.” he can see she is instantly on guard. So, she meets at least one of his brothers, and the question is which one put the unwanted moves on her. “Well you haven’t grabbed my ass yet so you’re already leagues better than Ari was when I met him but more friendly than Andy was.”

“Andy isn’t really an extrovert,” Steve smirked feeling his odds rapidly increasing due to the differences between him and the two brothers she has determined aren’t her type. “I’m Steve.”

The elevator dings and she nearly trips over her own feet, suddenly nervous now that she knows who he is. “Your mother talks about you so much!”

“All good things I hope?” he asks as they walk towards his mothers' front door.

“Yes,” and now she’s blushing which tells Steve everything he needs to know, his mother is playing matchmaker again. He follows behind her as she unlocks the door and places the items she brought on the breakfast bar, retreating to his mother's bedroom, presumably to wake Sarah. It's only a few moments later when Sarah enters ahead of the women.

“Oh, Steven!” Her bright smile temporarily distracts him from his darling mother's schemes. She embraces him warmly before breaking away and motioning towards the women. “I see you’ve met Annabelle.”

“Yes, mother I have.” His tone is stern as he makes eye contact with her. “Though I don’t recall what you could possibly need a personal assistant for.”

“Her social calendar is quite tiresome but I mostly stick to the errands, shopping, dry cleaners, and stuff like that,” Annie explained as she returned to the breakfast bar to grab the items she brought with her. “Hazelnut latte,” she handed over the cup. “Bagel and cream cheese, I wasn’t sure what your family had planned so I thought something light would be best.”

“Thank you, dear.” Sarah gave Annie a side hug, beaming.

“And your birthday present.” Annie held the small box out to Sarah Rogers. Steve watched as his mother's delight morphed into a death glare. “Before you say anything just open it.”

Sarah snatched the box, already forming a speech about why no one was allowed to get her a gift, but Steve received the biggest shock when his mother broke out into a full belly laugh at the contents. Peeking over, Steve saw a single orange in the box, a single fruit.

“See, as promised I didn’t spend a single dollar.”

“It would have been so much more enjoyable if the one you’d thrown was this size.”

“Want to fill me in?” Steve asked.

“It's an inside joke between your mother and I,” Annie smiled brightly up at him, her joy hypnotizing him. He wanted to resist out of the principle of his mother's meddling but in the short encounter they’ve had thus far she was kind and snarky. “Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair. Happy birthday Ms. Rogers. It was nice meeting, you Mr. Rogers.”

“Annie, wait!” Steve spoke before he even realized he was speaking. “We are having dinner at Bella Vita, why don’t you join us?”

“That’s a very kind offer but I can’t.”

“Your calendar was clear, what could you possibly be doing?” Sarah smirked, proudly.

“Something came up,” Annie met her boss's eyes trying to convey something she clearly didn’t want Steve to know. But Sarah didn’t seem to register what she was trying to say, “My mom needs me tonight.”

“Oh!” a hand shot up to cover Sarah’s mouth. “I completely forgot, how did the surgery go?”

“It went well but she needs constant supervision for the next couple of days.”

“Another time then,” Steve was unaware of the pleading eyes he sent to her, too distracted by the blush rising up her neck when she nodded and slipped out the door. Steve rounded on his mother.

“She’s wonderful, isn’t she?!”

“Mother please don’t tell me this is another attempt to set me up?”

“I’ve spoken with her extensively, she’s open to dating, wants a large family, and I believe you would complement each other well.”

“I don’t need your assistance, I am perfectly capable of finding a woman myself.”

“Then why have you not made me a grandmother yet!?” she snapped.

“You are a granddaughter.”

“I love Mary, you know that but you know what I mean.”

Steve placed his hands on either of her shoulders, his mother so easily got her way around him, the last thing he needed was another woman who could bend him to her will. “If I agree to one date will you stay out of my love life?”

“Fine.” she groaned.

“Thank you. Now come on, Andy and Frank are waiting for us downstairs.”

The two headed downstairs together, both cheerful for the same reason but masking it from one another as Sarah sent him Annie’s contact information.

#steve rogers #frank adler #andy barber #lloyd hansen #curtis everett #ari levinson #ransom drysdale #james bucky buchanan barnes #sarah rogers #mob au #mob boss steve rogers

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northernroyal · 2 years

Text

how many times have i found you?

Chapter Two

ao3 and ffn

The raindrops are heavy across her back as she runs through the space between their houses. One hand holds onto her skirts, while the other is clasped firmly in a boy’s hand. He pulls her behind him, navigating them through the bumps and quickly forming puddles along the old dirt road.

He takes her all the way to her front door, stopping under the canopy her pa just put up after years of her ma begging. She wraps an arm around the post leaning against it as she looks up at him. He looks different, she thinks. He’s spent most of the summer working in the field with his pa. He’s cut his hair. Shorter now then it’s ever been. And he’s grown at least a few inches. She doesn’t remember having to crane her neck so much just to look at him.

He shakes the water off himself like a wet dog. Just to make her laugh, she’s sure. Because as soon as she does, he smiles her favourite smile. She didn’t realise how much she missed him until this very moment.

“Why don’t you come in? Ma will make you something hot to drink.” He takes a second to think, looking between her and the road that leads back to his house. His gaze falls to their shoes as he takes a step closer.

“Better not, my pa will tan my hide if I’m back after dark.” He is standing so close to her; she can feel the heat coming off his body. It’s closer than she can ever remember them being.

“Why did you walk me back then?” Her voice sounds strange to her own ears as the question comes out. Floaty and not at all like her. He must think so too because he finally looks up at her.

“Well, I reckon your pa woulda done worse if I woulda let you walk back alone.” He replies with a chuckle. He pulls a strand of her hair between his fingers and twirls it. It’s something he’s done hundreds of times before, but this time feels different. “And in the rain no less?” He tsks, and she giggles. The sound makes him grin.

For a second, she thinks he’s going to kiss her. His eyes drop to her lips. And for a second, she wants him to.

“Mabel! You get in here before you catch your death!”

Hermione can feel the blush on her cheeks as soon as she wakes up. For two months the dreams have stopped. Since she has started Hogwarts, she hasn’t had one once. It figures it would happen on Hallowe’en. Except this one wasn’t a nightmare. No, it hadn’t been scary at all. She can feel the heat rise to her cheeks again. She groans in frustration as she rubs at them. These dreams, good or bad, almost always make her feel dreadful afterwards. She had forgotten about this part. It was almost like longing. It always passed, but directly afterwards the feeling lingered.

Today is supposed to be fun. All anyone has been able to talk about for the past week has been the Hallowe’en feast. And they have a practical lesson in charms. Which she will admit she is a little more excited about.

She pushes herself out of bed and the remnants of her dream out of her head. It will be a good day. She just knows it.

“It’s no wonder no one can stand her.” He hears the words come out of Ron Weasley’s mouth as they all make their way out of the charms classroom. “She’s a nightmare, honestly.�� He knows he’s talking about Hermione Granger, but that seems a little harsh. While she had been a bit condescending in class, Ron isn’t exactly ever nice to her either. And yeah, she is a stickler for the rules, but Dean wouldn’t ever want to do something that would jeopardise his place at Hogwarts either. As the only other first year muggleborn in Gryffindor, he feels a sort of kinship with her.

He’s seen some of the other first years make fun of her in class. He had been just as excited as her at the start of term. Only after seeing the Slytherins snicker at her during their first potions lesson, when she practically jumped out of her seat to answer all of Snape’s questions, did he choose to ease back a bit and save the excitement about magic for the comfort of his four poster.

He has the thought to tell her maybe she should do the same when said girl barrels through Harry and Ron. She had to have heard him. Harry says something similar.

“So? She must’ve noticed she’s got no friends.” Dean hadn’t noticed that. He thinks he should maybe go after her, but Seamus pulls him away for his help on their Transfiguration essay before he can decide.

He doesn’t see her for the rest of the day. He even looks for her at the Hallowe’en feast. He decided he would ask her to sit with him, Seamus, and Neville. But she never shows up. The boys introduce him to all the wizarding treats he’s never heard of. It’s fun and all, but he misses his muggle Halloween, watching scary movies with his mum and sisters. His mum would always get their favourite sweets to go with their kettle corn. He’s still thinking of them when Professor Quirrell comes bursting into the Great Hall. Everybody is staring as he rushes to the head table.

“Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know.” He gasps out before collapsing to the ground. The hall breaks out into chaos. The Gryffindor table is by far the worst. The Weasley twins seem to revel in the disorder. Even as Professor Dumbledore calls for all prefects to lead their houses back to the dormitories, they lean across house lines and are taunting the Hufflepuffs.

He, again, ends up behind Harry and Ron. He’s not really paying them any attention, because of the actual troll on the loose, until Harry stops and pulls Ron along with him. He hears Hermione’s name. He falls in step with them and listens closely.

“She doesn’t know about the troll.”

“She’s back at the dorms though, isn’t she?” Dean cuts in. Both boys jump back at the sound of his voice. They both look uncomfortable as they look between Dean and each other.

“No, she’s in the girls’ toilets.” Harry finally answers.

“Why is she there? How do you know she’s there?”

“Look, we don’t have time for questions. Are you going to help us find her or not?” Harry snaps. Ron takes a step back. Dean and Harry both notice.

“I’m just going to tell Percy. Just so someone knows where we are.” He runs before them casting a glance back before getting lost in the sea of students in the corridor.

They sneak away in the opposite direction. They take off running as soon as they are in the clear. At the sound of footsteps, they glance at each other.

“That’s probably Ron.” Harry guesses as he slows, but the steps are too heavy. He grabs him as he looks back.

“No, Snape.” Dean pushes him behind a stone pillar.

“Why isn’t he with the rest of the teachers?” Dean shrugs. He waits for Snape to clear the corner and then he pulls Harry along behind him.

“So, how do you know she’s down here?” Harry looks guilty as Dean glances back at him. He takes a while to answer, but he blurts out once they are in sight of the toilets.

“One of her dormmates said she was down here crying, okay?” He snaps as a pungent smell reaches them. They look at each other and groan in acceptance as they run into the room with the troll and the girl they came down here to help.

Hermione is on the ground on the opposite side of the room with the troll bearing down on her. Both boys start yelling as they see how close it is to her. It turns to them, more attracted to the moving objects. It moves slowly, lumbering over to them. When it gets far enough away from her, they dart around each side, confusing it further. They try to help Hermione up, but she seems to be too shocked or scared to move.

“What do we do now?” Harry hisses as they sit crouched around Hermione.

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” He repeats as he looks between his two fellow Gryffindors and the troll advancing on them. He looks around the room hoping to find anything, but he comes up dry. The troll has destroyed anything that could be used as a weapon. The ceilings are high though. If only they could go over it.

“Wait a minute. Wingardium Leviosa.”

“What!?”

“We make it float then walk right under it.” It’s his only idea, and Harry still looks sceptical. “Well, have you got anything better?” When Harry doesn’t say anything, Dean tries to get Hermione up. They need all three of them for this to even maybe work.

“Please, Hermione we need your help. You did the spell so well in class. You really showed Ron up.” He can feel Harry glaring at him, but he doesn’t care about the other boys friend right now. A troll is standing between them and the only exit. Hermione needs to get up and use her wand, and he’ll say anything to get her to do it.

She looks up at him with determination and nods her head. He pulls her up, and she shakes herself off and puts her wand in position. They all raise their wands and say in unison,

“Wingardium Leviosa!”

And somehow it works. The troll begins to lift off the ground. It thrashes about as it gets closer to the ceiling. Very slowly all three children pass under the floating troll, all still holding the spell as they go. They have almost made it to the door, when it burst open causing them all to lose concentration. With a loud crash, the troll falls to the ground. The children jump with their backs firmly pressed to the wall. They watch the unmoving troll for a second before their gaze jumps to the wide open door.

Professor McGonagall is glaring at them as Professor Snape sweeps in and makes his way to the troll. Dean hasn’t gotten in any trouble since he started Hogwarts, but from the look on McGonagall’s face he is now in more trouble than he’s ever been in his whole life.

“You should all be in your dormitory! What are you doing down here!?” No one answers, and it only makes her angrier. “Explain yourselves, now!”

“I’m sorry, Professor.” All eyes shoot to Hermione. “It’s all my fault. They were only out of their dormitory because they were looking for me.”

“And why weren’t you in the dormitory, Miss Granger?” Some of the anger has faded, as she watches Hermione.

“I-I- wasn’t at the feast Professor. I wasn’t feeling well. I didn’t know about the troll. I swear.” He understands why Hermione isn’t telling the whole truth. He wouldn’t want to tell anyone he was crying in the toilets because someone was being a git let alone his professor. “Punish me if you have to, but not the boys. If they hadn’t found me, I’d be dead.” He feels the blood leaving his face at the thought of what would have happened if they hadn’t made it in time.

Both boys are speechless as Hermione offers herself up to be punished instead of them. Even though they are the ones that broke the rules. They could have told a professor or one of the prefects, but they didn’t.

Professor McGonagall lets out a sigh as she rests her head against her palm.

“No punishments, but I want all of you to realise just how lucky you are. Now, back to your dormitory.” They all rush out as soon as the words are out of her mouth.

The silence is awkward as they all walk back to their dorm. No one knows what to say, so nothing is said. Hermione walks ahead and says the password before they even get there. But she turns back to them before walking in.

“Thank you both.” She says it with a small smile and the tops of her cheeks are pink, but she turns around and runs into the common room before either of them can say anything in return.

“Girls are strange, mate.” Harry’s looking wide eyed at the spot where Hermione just stood.

“Tell me about it. I live in a house with four of them.” He nudges his shoulder as he walks through the portrait hole. Harry chuckles as he walks in beside him. *

She finds him in the common room the next day. It’s, thankfully, mostly empty. Harry is already down for breakfast, and everybody wants to know how he defeated the troll. Better him than her.

She asks him the question that has been rattling around her head since he helped her up in the girls’ toilets. She has seen him almost every day since the start of term, but yesterday he had looked so familiar in a way she has never noticed.

“Have we met before?” He looks offended.

“We’ve had classes together and shared a common room for the past two months, Hermione.”

“Yes, I know, Dean.” She puts emphasis on his name. Of course, she knows who he is. “I just meant, well, we’re both muggleborns.” He raises his brows at her. She continues. “I guess you just seem familiar. Like we’ve met before. Somewhere outside of Hogwarts.” She’s rambling, she knows. But he doesn’t seem to mind. For some reason, he is smiling.

“Nah, I’d think I’d remember this head of hair.” As he says it, he twirls one of her curls between his fingers. She freezes, so does he. The action seems to shock both of them. Dean practically jumps away from her. He shoves his hands deep in his pockets. “I just meant it really stands out.” He seems embarrassed, but Hermione doesn’t have a clue of what to say either. “Er… Not in a bad way or anything.”

“It’s okay, Dean. I’m well aware of how my hair looks.” She smiles at him, and she can hear his relief as he chuckles. “Really, I just wanted to thank you again.”

“Really, you don’t have to. I’m sure if anyone knew you were down there, they would have done the same thing.” He has to actively keep his eyes from finding Ron. It’s better if she doesn’t know about that. There’s already enough discontent between them.

“I’m not too sure about that. Ron was right. No one likes me.”

“Oh, come on, that isn’t true.”

“Really, who?” She’s standing defensively with her arms crossed over her chest. He’s seen his sisters in the same pose hundreds of times. The corner of his mouth twitches up at the familiarity of it. One of her brows quirk up in response. “What, would you like to be friends?”

No, that hadn’t been what he was implying, but now that the idea is planted in his head it seems right. He feels his heart beating rapidly in his chest and he can’t figure out why. He’s made plenty of friends in his life. But this moment feels important. He can be friends with Hermione Granger. Maybe he can even help her relax in class a bit, too.

“Sounds good, Hermione.” He finally pulls his hands out of his pockets and holds one out to her. She smiles as she puts her hand in his, and he knows he’s made the right choice. “Friends.”

*Section contains lines of dialogue taken directly from Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone

#hermione x dean #hermione x harry #hermione x theo #hermione x draco #hp fanfic #fanfic #hermione granger #dean thomas #harry potter #theo nott #draco malfoy #reverse harem #hogwarts #my wrtitng

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vakarian-shepard · 2 years

Text

like a ghost

Newly arisen and suddenly under the thumb of a terrorist organization, Shepard isn't handling being undead very well—and nearly losing one of her favorite people in the galaxy sends her spiraling all over again (not that she'd stopped.) In the wake of going after Archangel, Sun and Garrus have a quiet conversation in the medbay about where she's been and what happened 2 years ago. Mass Effect 2, Shakarian, 4100+ words Also on AO3!

Finding Garrus feels like she’s taken her first real breath of air since Cerberus breathed life back into her mangled corpse.

Maybe that’s a little dramatic, but she can’t think of any other way to describe it. When he’d taken that helmet off and said her name—Shepard, voice dripping with affection like honey—it had been all she could do to avoid throwing herself at him. If they’d been alone, and he hadn’t looked like a strong breeze might knock him over, she might have done it anyway. The permanent knot of anxiety in her stomach had eased, and the sheer relief that not only had Cerberus accidentally picked out one of her favorite people in the universe, but that she’d gotten to him just in time to keep him safe—it felt too good to be true.

And then he’d gotten shot in the face with a rocket, and all of her hopes and dreams had seeped out of her in a dark blue puddle all over the floor.

Dr. Chakwas had taken one look at him when they’d carried him in, all three of them including Jacob and Zaeed slick with the blood pouring out of his head wound, and simply said, “I’ve got him.” Sun helped them lay him out on one of the medbay beds—helped drag another one over so that his feet weren’t dangling off the end—but after that has to be nearly dragged out of the room bodily by Zaeed. She’d felt like if she blinked he’d disappear and had desperately fought to stay by his side, despite her better judgment being well aware of how stupid she was being. It’s not until Chakwas grabs her by the shoulders and says “Shepard, look at me. I’ve got him now. I need you out of the way so I can do my job,” that Sun manages to tear her wild eyed gaze away from his bloody face.

“Don’t—don’t let him go, Doc. I need—we need—“

Chakwas had just nodded and squeezed her shoulders again. “It’ll be alright, Shepard. You go get changed and get some rest. EDI will let you know when I’m done.”

And then she’d been gone, the doors sliding closed behind her with a quiet whoosh. The blinds on the medbay windows had followed, and that had been that.

3 hours, 46 minutes.

Sun had managed to get herself into the shower, armor and all. She’d stood under the faucet until the blood stopped seeping off of the unmarked black armor, and then she’d stripped to wash the rest of her body. It’s the first time since the Cerberus base that she’s had a proper shower, that she’s been able to see her body in private, and it nearly sends her into another spiral. Though the water is warm, her hands shake as she runs her fingers across her skin, pulling lightly at some of the glowing gaps on her stomach. They pull apart even more at her touch, though they don’t hurt, she thinks she might be able to see some of the bloody meat beneath if she looks closely enough. The gaps in her skin are all over her body and, as if in a trance, she continues to pull at the skin just to see what’s under there—

—and promptly finds herself doubling over, dry heaving over the shower drain.

Water runs down her face, the shower water hiding the tears that burn and sting at her eyes and surely overflow, dripping onto the tile. Black bursts begin to pop in front of her vision, creeping tendrils at the sides like smoke alerting her to her imminent demise if she doesn’t sit down. She falls heavily onto the tile floor, leaning back against the wall as she pulls her knees to her chest and drops her head between to try and bring everything back together. To try to avoid passing out. Her ears are filled with cotton, and her chest feels like it’s collapsing in on itself. She—

“Commander Shepard, your heart rate is 203 beats per minute. Do you need medical assistance?”

Fuck. Of course, the AI is tuned into her vitals.

There’s something invasive about the thought of that that makes her feel like she’s going to throw up again, but she just swallows and squeezes her eyes tighter together. This whole thing with Cerberus has her on edge, and the fact that they have a live feed of her vitals just cements the feeling she has in the pit of her gut—they aren’t asking her to help them: this is a hostage situation. There’s no saying no to them. Not after everything they’ve done, to her and to others. They’ll stop at nothing to get what they want.

“Commander Shepard?”

She laughs a little, though it’s a forced sound at best.

“No, EDI,” she says, voice thick with the tears still slipping from her eyes. She presses the heels of her palms against them with a shaky sigh. “I’m just having a panic attack. It’ll pass.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m—I’ll be fine.”

She expects more pushback, but the AI just gives an affirmative bloop and the room falls silent again, leaving Sun sitting on the floor in silence, nothing but the ragged sound of her breathing and the running water to keep her company. There’s something extra humiliating about her position all of the sudden, and she struggles back up onto her feet, shutting the water off and reaching for a towel.

After drying herself as best she can, she shoves herself back into the cloth under-armor garments, ignoring the dampness from the way she’d stood under the shower with her armor on as she heads out the door and straight for the elevator. EDI hadn’t said anything about Garrus, so she assumes that Chakwas is still working on him. She doesn’t want to wait around with the rest of these strangers, so she heads straight for the Captain’s Quarters.

She really only makes it about two steps into the room before all the energy gets sucked out of her. Her armor is dumped in pieces by the door as her eyes fill with tears again, and she stumbles over to her dresser, digging through to find something dry to wear. She pulls shirt after shirt from the drawers, getting more and more upset the more she finds that they’ve all been emblazoned with the Cerberus logo—until she finally pulls out a grey t-shirt without anything on it. It pulls a noise from her throat, but she can’t figure out whether it’s a laugh, a sob, or a cough. Can’t be bothered to think about it any more than she is now, pulling the under-armor shirt off and letting it fall unceremoniously to the ground as she pulls the soft cotton t-shirt over her head. Luckily, Cerberus seems to be above emblazoning their logo on the ass of their sweatpants, so she thankfully can pull the first pair she grabs on after shucking off the under-armor tights.

Once she’s in dry clothes, she walks over to the bed and collapses with a sigh, wet hair and all. The mattress is soft, the sheets expensive and smelling faintly of a very pleasant detergent—she almost wants to fall asleep right there, until she opens her eyes and remembers why she hasn’t been sleeping in the bed.

The skylight above the bed opens out into the great yawning maw of the empty void, and immediately her heart rate spikes all over again. She sits upright in a hurry, staring straight ahead and just repeating No, no, no, no, we are not going to do this right now, over and over in her head until the urge to scream subsides again, like a wave going back out to sea. She slumps as the fear fades, rubbing roughly at her face, scrubbing at the tears on her cheeks. This whole fucking situation is bullshit, and she just wants to rest so badly that it almost hurts—and so she sighs, grabbing a pillow off the bed and the fluffy comforter, dragging them over to the sectional sofa across from the fish tanks. Tossing the pillow into the corner of the sofa, she settles, stretching out lengthwise facing the fish tanks. She tucks herself in with the comforter, slipping her arm under her head under the pillow, hugging a bundle of the blanket to her chest as if she’s holding a teddy bear.

Her chest aches with the echoes of the panic that had gripped her on Omega, and then again in the showers, and again just now when she’d caught a glimpse of the skylight. Her eyes sting again, the world blurs as she hugs the comforter even tighter to her chest, tears leaking out and dripping onto the pillow beneath her head. There’s pressure behind her eyes, and before she can manage to stop herself, she finds a sob clawing its way up her throat and past her lips. It’s been well over a decade, but nights like this…

…nights like this, she really misses her mom and dad.

“Commander Shepard.”

Sun jerks awake at the sound of the synthetic voice. For a terrifying few moments, she doesn’t remember where she is or how she got here. It takes her another minute of staring at the empty fish tanks to realize where she is, and she groans, burying her face in the pillow again. The AI makes another noise, and she sighs, tilting her head just enough that she can speak clearly.

“Mm. ‘s going on, EDI?”

“Doctor Chakwas would like to speak to you at the med bay.”

Chakwas.

Garrus.

Sun doesn’t need any more encouragement, pushing herself upright with a quiet grunt of effort. Her body aches from the overuse of her muscles—going from lying dead on a table to running around shooting at mercs so quickly had done a number on her—and she takes a moment to stretch out some of the kinks.

“How long did I sleep?” she asks, stretching her arms over her head until her spine pops several times.

“2 hours 13 minutes. It is currently 3:36 AM, Alliance Standard Time.”

That means Garrus was in surgery for 6 hours, give or take. It must have been even worse than she’d thought it was—and she’d thought it was pretty bad when she had to carry him back to the ship. She doesn’t waste any other time thinking too hard about it, kicking her blanket off and moving to put her combat boots on (all the while making a mental note to get herself something more comfortable to wear during off hours).

The ride down in the elevator feels too long, the elevator itself too cold for her own comfort. She crosses her arms across her chest as goosebumps prickle across her bare arms, leaning back against the wall as exhaustion still threatens to pull her under. It’s nice when the doors finally slide open again with a quiet whoosh of air, and she sighs in harmony with it, stepping out into the bright fluorescent lights of the mess hall.

The mess hall has been vacated for the night, she discovers as she turns the corner. As she walks over to the medbay, Sun pauses to turn the lights down in the hall. It probably doesn’t waste any real energy, but it’s too bright and it hurts her already aching head a little too much for comfort.

When the door to the medbay slides open, she’s pleased to find that the overhead lights have been turned down, only the orange emergency lights along the floor left on. The only other light comes from Chakwas’ computer on her desk where she’s sitting, working on something or other. She turns at the sound of the door, smiling when she sees that Sun has come to visit.

“Shepard,” she says simply.

Sun starts to smile, but it falls away when she hears another voice chime in—or attempt to.

“Shhhep… ow…”

Garrus is lying on a different cot now, clean white sheets below him. His head is turned towards the door, both to accommodate his fringe and so that he’s not laying on the injury.

Dr. Chakwas laughs lightly, rising from her seat to walk over to him, waving Shepard closer with a hand. “I told you to be careful talking, Vakarian. I just finished resculpting your face.”

As Sun gets closer, she catches him rolling his eyes, though all he does is wave one hand weakly.

“Yeah, I heard you, Doc. I just—ow—”

Dr. Chakwas laughs again, shaking her head and sighing as she turns her attention to Sun. She looks tired in the dim lighting, the bags under her eyes heavy, though she seems pleased with the outcome of her work with Garrus. “He was asking for you, Commander. Though, he should be asleep, I thought it best to give you two some time to catch up without all of the Cerberus crew lurking about.”

Sun snorts, avoiding Garrus’s gaze even though she can feel it burning a hole in her shirt. “I appreciate that, Doc. Anything I should know about him before you head to bed?”

Chakwas sighs, looking over at Garrus again. “No, not really. I did my best to reconstruct, and I believe he’ll make a full recovery with full functionality of his face, though it will leave a nasty scar. I’ve instructed him to remain in bed until at least 6:00 AM—I’d appreciate it if you saw to it that he did not, in fact, start wandering around the ship before the sedation wears off. He needs to rest,” she pauses, leaning forward toward him in emphasis. He gives a heavy sigh of annoyance that makes the doctor laugh, and she straightens up again with a shrug. “Other than that, I would suggest that he keep the talking to a minimum. He’ll be quite sore when the medication wears off, and he could cause more bleeding if he moves the mandible on that side too much.”

Sun nods, finally looking over at Garrus and finding him already staring at her face, gazes locking in an instant. She smiles a little, feeling the strange orange lines in her face pull at the movement.

“I’ll make sure he rests. You should get some rest as well, Doc.”

Chakwas nods, sighing heavily. “And I plan to. Goodnight Shepard; Vakarian.”

The two of them chime a quiet ''Night after her retreating form as Sun turns to watch her go. The door slides shut behind her and, for a moment, all she can do is stare at the closed door. It’s not that she’s scared of Garrus, but she’s off-kilter and everything about this situation has her wary. She doesn’t know how to move forward without putting anyone else in danger—though, considering where she just found Garrus, that probably doesn’t matter much to him.

She becomes aware of Garrus’s breathing in the quiet room after a moment. It’s deep and slow—as slow as a human when asleep, though from what she knows of turians from all of her experience with her godmothers and with Garrus himself, that’s just what turians sound like when they’re breathing normally. She finally manages to make herself move again, turning to look at him where he’s still laying on the bed.

His left mandible shifts against the pillow.

He’s still trying to smile, even after getting his head nearly blown off with a rocket.

That breaks whatever hesitation had been sitting in her throat, and she laughs a little, smiling as she moves to grab Chakwas’ chair, dragging it over to the side of his cot. She settles, crossing her legs and leaning her elbow on the little table that had been dragged over by his bedside.

“Hey.”

He snorts. “Hi.”

She tilts her chin, gesturing to his face as she asks, “How’re you feeling?”

Garrus just rolls his eyes at her, which makes her laugh. At least his personality is still in tact, if nothing else.

“Gotta say, I’ve felt better. Be honest, Shepard—how bad is it?” he asks as he gestures weakly to the side of his face with one of his hands.

Sun considers what she can see of the wound, which isn’t much. Most of his face is still covered with a bandage, soaked in the dark blue of his blood, but she can see the jagged edges of it peeking out from underneath the gauze.

“I don’t think it’ll be too bad,” she says, tilting her head so that she can see his face straight on. “Plus, some women find facial scars attractive.”

He laughs, and then groans, settling a little further into his pillows. “Believe it or not, Shepard, I’m not really looking to attract Krogan women.”

She snorts, lifting her leg to nudge his knee with her foot. “Hey, it’s not just Krogan women. I think they’re pretty attractive, too.”

He laughs again, followed by another groan. “Oh, don’t make me laugh, Shepard. My face is barely holding together as it is.”

“I’m being serious, Vakarian,” she insists, though she’s not sure where she’s going with this, ears burning. “It’s not my fault you think that’s funny.”

They both laugh at that, and there’s something in the familiarity between them that has a warmth settling in her chest, a lightness she hasn’t felt since she woke up. It’s like she can finally breathe again, like she has something to hold onto to keep her head above water. She’s so grateful for the happy coincidence that led her to decide to go help Archangel before tracking down Mordin Solus, deciding that his situation sounded a bit more dire than Mordin’s. She doesn’t often believe in divine intervention, but sometimes…

“How are you, Shepard?” Garrus asks, distracting her from her thoughts. “It’s been a long time, but you seem… off.”

Sun laughs, reaching up to rub at her face, exhaustion momentarily overriding the fear of the gaps in her skin. “Ohh, don’t let them hear you say that,” she groans, leaning forward, bracing her elbows on the table. “Who knows what other fucked up procedures they’ll want to do if they think something came out wrong.”

“Cerberus?”

She nods. “Yeah.”

“So, you’re not—you really—”

“Died?” she finishes for him, voice flat. She drops her hands to the table, looking up at him again. He nods, and she nods as well. “Yeah. I—god, Garrus, it was—I don’t remember much, but… I remember floating… the air was leaking out of my suit—and—and then I was falling—”

Sun stops abruptly when her voice cracks, eyes stinging once more, and she wonders how much more crying she has left in her tonight. She reaches up to swipe at the tears before they have the chance to fall properly, pausing with the heels of her palms pressed against her eyes. She sniffles miserably, breath hitching as the panic once again rises up in her chest.

“I’m so fucking happy to see you, Garrus,” she breathes, laughing weakly. She drops her hands back to her lap, looking over at him. He’s just watching her, eyes darting back and forth across her face like he can’t quite believe he’s seeing her either. “The past week or so has been—bizarre. Unreal. I don’t…”

“You’ve only been with Cerberus for a week and a half?”

It surprises her, though she’s not sure why it does, that he figures that out so quickly. She’d have expected him to believe that she just lied to him all these past few years, but he’s so quick to believe her that it takes her breath away a little, the amount of trust he still has in her.

She nods in answer to his question, sighing softly. “I’ve been—I’ve spent the past two years on an operating table in some lab. I woke up maybe a week ago, half naked with no memory of where I was or how I got there. I don’t—I don’t even know if that’s where I’ve actually even been these past two years. They could have told me anything and how would I know the difference? They could have been using me the whole time, and just… just wiped the memories. How would I know, you know?”

Sun is openly crying by the time she finishes, tears streaming down her cheeks. She avoids his gaze, instead opting to examine her hands, examining the strange glowing orange cracks that she can see there as well.

So focused on her hands and trying to control her breathing is she that she doesn’t even see Garrus reaching for her until she feels his hand on her cheek, brushing the tears away with the back of his knuckles. She looks over at him curiously, though she’s sure she must be making quite the face as more tears leak out.

He doesn’t seem to be all there, still soaring on the pain medication the doctor had given him, watching his hand rather than looking at her face. His touch lingers, sending warmth cascading over her skin as if he’d just dumped warm water over her head, before he lets his hand drop back to the mattress beside him.

“If it makes you feel any better, Shepard,” he begins, voice low and gravelly in the dim light of the medbay, “I’ve had my ear to the seedy underbelly of the galaxy for a while now. I would have noticed if you were out there doing Cerberus’ dirty work before now.”

Sun laughs, sniffling again as she reaches up to wipe her tears away again. “You think?”

“I don’t think,” he replies, and his eyes finally dart back up to hers. “I know. I would have known if you were out there. I would have… well. I don’t know what I would have done. But I know I would have noticed.”

I would have come for you—she can nearly hear him say it, even though he cuts himself off before he can. It makes her want to cry even more, but she’s already crying more than she should be in front of him, or in front of anyone while they’re in this precarious position. She needs to stop spiraling, and focus on what to do from here. Needs to focus on moving forward, one step at a time.

She’s so happy to have him watching her back again. If anyone could get her out of this mess with Cerberus, she believes that he could do it.

“Well,” she says, taking a deep breath and straightening up, wiping at her face. “That’s enough of that for now. Ahem—um, you should—you should get some rest. Chakwas says you need to stay in bed until at least 6:00 this morning and it is… 4:15.”

Garrus hums, watching her stand. There’s something in his eyes that says he knows that she’s trying to run away, but she’s pretty sure that if they talk anymore, they’ll probably both be more than a little embarrassed come the light of day. She takes another deep breath, steadying herself, feeling her mask slip back into place finally.

She must have needed to say that out loud.

Riding the impulse, she reaches out and grabs his hand, squeezing it gently before she leaves, smiling down at him. “Get some rest, Vakarian. We’ll go out again tomorrow.”

His left mandible flares again as he smiles at her, nodding a little as he squeezes her hand back at the last second. “Just like old times, Shepard.”

She laughs as she pulls away, reaching up to run her hand through her hair as she grins down at him.

“Just like old times.”

When she returns to the Captain’s Quarters, the weight that had been settled over her chest since she woke up on that metal table has finally lifted just a bit. The relief and comfort that just knowing that Garrus is down in the medbay—knowing that he’s here with her—brings is the first time she’s started to feel real since she first came on the new Normandy. She can still feel the pleasant coolness of his skin against her feverish cheek, brushing the tears away as she settles back onto the pillow she’d placed on the couch. Her body sinks into the cushions, heavy with exhaustion, muscles loose and relaxed.

She’s asleep before she can even form another coherent thought, pulled under and into the realm of dreams by the steady sound of the air conditioning, dreams filled with the memory of cool fingers and a familiar voice that feels like home.

#my writing #sun shepard #garrus vakarian #shakarian #mass effect fanfiction #why this get tagged with chapter update??

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n0tamused · 3 years

Text

Here For You

Tobirama x F. Reader

Genre: angst to fluff

Word count: 3,639

Warnings: nightmares, description of gore

"-They should be headed north now" Y/N spoke to the old woman that sat at the dining table who nodded in relief, head heavy and limbs aching but they all were now safe. The walls were gray and cracked from years of neglect, and the small clans house seemed to be moving in the breeze like thin branches of the oak tree that stood outside. It wasn't until a hoard was heard approaching, surrounding the perimeter of the house. Swords hissing as they were pulled out of their sheaths. Y/n stood frozen for a moment in front of the open door, watching the leader approaching, shrouded in darkness of the upcoming night, the shadows making his expression all the more sinister. Before long Y/n flung forward and slammed the door shut with all force in her body. The house spun and twisted, grotesque imagery surfacing from the walls that now felt like paper. Thin and rough faces screamed at her from behind the walls that framed their features. Mouths wide open, moaning and groaning. Then it all started to spiral out of control. The banging, screaming and shouting and pleading. All of it rang so far it reached the heavens above but no one came to their aid.

Realization came when they were all captured and forced to kneel before the enemy team- she had led her own team out of one certain death and into a slaughterhouse. She had let them all down, she failed them. Desperation and fear tugged and squeezed at her lungs and throat like a giant's hand. It felt as if each muscle was strained and simultaneously crushed as her captors seized her on each side by the arms. Watching her friends die by the blade. They were made to stand in front of her and then, with one swift stroke the sword was pushed through their jugular, making blood run freely into their throat, mouth and lungs. The blade was drenched to the hilt. Splatter of their blood stained Y/n's pale and cold cheeks, eyes wide with terror. She struggled to escape the hold but to no avail, all her power had been drained right out of her and wounds littered her body and made any attempt to move futile. Pain coursed through her body like a fire set ablaze to run wild.

But none of it could compare to the pain in her heart and mind. None of it came close. She wanted to shout and scream, to struggle and fight but that proverbial hand held her hostage until half of her team had been slaughtered. The bodies fell, continued to twitch and continued to be mutilated even after they had already died. Blood oozed and coated the ground, slowly slithering towards where she sat like a snake, before forming into a puddle around her. Guts laid scattered across the yard all around her, bringing a rancid stench to billow and blow all around. Adrenaline still coursed through her and finally it was her turn to stand and come before the bodies. They made her look at them, all their pale faces. Twisted and cut up, stained and blotched with blood of their own. Missing limbs were thrown onto the pile of death; whose, she didn't even know anymore. Smell of metal and decomposition was enough to make her insides twist in on each other and make her want to disappear. And she broke free, desperately clawing to escape, and behind her stood all the dead comrades, dark silhouettes with gaping white eyes and hanging mouths. Furthermore twisted and wrecked. It stopped Y/n from going further, fear seeping into her bones just as much as shame. She betrayed them- she failed them.

From the back she was dragged to the pile of death, her body twitching and pulling and struggling but none of it worked. Cries resonated through the trees in an echo, high pitched screams of despair. The long sword was slicked with blood, blade dull from cutting through so much flesh. The leader chuckled menacingly, but there was no sign of a smirk or even a mouth on his face which a shadow resided on. Black mass settled in the place where his eyes were, and for all Y/n knew he could have no mouth at all. He spoke- however she didn't hear his words, as if her head was pushed under in a bucket of water. She couldn't breathe nor decipher his words. The invisible giant's hand was squeezing more now, she could feel herself turning blue. Screams started again, picking up volume and intensity until it was all she could hear, ringing through her ears. It made her want to vomit.

The sword rose up. The blood riding down the length of the blade before it was sent flying through the air-

She woke with a startle, a small flinch throughout her entire body. The screams of her dreams now replaced by the hooting of an owl far away, the gentle but cold draft came through the open window and left gooseflesh in its wake. For a while the woman failed to move, believing if she moved or even closed her eyes she would be back at the pile of dead bodies. All senses slowly returned to her as the drunkenness of being asleep washed away. Taking deep breaths she felt her heart still racing, moving her hand to settle over the left side of her chest, feeling a fine sheen of cold sweat over her flaming skin.

Suddenly, tears sprouted in her eyes, stinging and clawing their way out before they freely slid down her flushed cheeks. Silently the few tears fell before she gathered the strength to sit up and push the covers off of her, sliding her body to the edge of the bed until her legs bent and reached the floor. Another moment of pause. Y/n felt her head swimming, still not fully recovered from the horrors her subconscious conjured. Finally Kaliyah stood on her legs that felt unsteady, tiptoeing around her still-sleeping husband. The halls were still dark, cold with the dawn slowly approaching and breaching the darkness. Only enough for her to see where she was stepping. Nimble fingers curled around the door to the front porch, gently tugging the door to open and only enough for her body to slip through before closing them again.

The cold immediately clung onto her, making her fold her arms over her chest in a self hug, attempting to contain the warmth she dragged from her bed. She took a few steps before she stopped at the top of the small steps which lead to a garden, a small paved path leading elsewhere, to the exit from the house yard. Looking up at the sky she saw the morning blue color paint the sky, with pale golden hues shining through the few scattered clouds that passed overhead. The night before she remembered the sky was littered with so many shiny specks of light, glowing bright on the canvas of dark navy blue. Not a cloud in sight and with the moon looking down onto them all- she only wondered what she did for the moon to let such horrific imagery pollute her sleep.

Coming to sit down onto the steps she let the cold seep into her muscle and bones. Feeling the rough and coarse texture of the wood beneath her, and next to her when she leaned onto a pillar which she sat next to. The cold grounded her there, bringing her back to reality. Wind brushed through her hair gently, like invisible hands, soothing her wrecked nerves and bringing comfort. Her line of vision then moved down, to the garden below. Remembering the time she and Tobirama were working on those gardens; planting the shrubs and rose bushes as well as many other kinds of flowers. All of what they planted grew swiftly, it all came to a full fruition as now a great cherry tree brough shade to the yard and rose bushes decorated the space next to the fences in full blossom. Red and pale pink, some even white in color. Large petals that would come to form a blanket over the grass once fall came in place.

In the bedroom, Tobirama stirred when she left, having already been half-awake when she too, woke. Believing she were only up for refreshment he didn't give much thought or effort in focusing on that - he didn't hear the small sniffle through his sleep dazed head. But as he didnt hear the faint sound of running water, or her footsteps retreating, his brows knit together and his mind worked on pushing the sleep away. The spot she once laid in was now cold. Pushing himself to sit he looked over to the spot, crinkled covers and sheets, and faint dark spots across the pillowcase. It didn't take a genius in Tobirama to understand what was happening. Nights like these were rare, but certainly nothing new to either him or his beloved.

Infusing his chakra he spread his sensory field throughout the house, slowly pelting over the areas. As he didn't find her in the house his heart leapt into his throat, before finally he sensed her on the porch. He was already moving out of the bedroom by that moment, sensing how her own chakra twisted and turned as if trying to find an offending thorn in the system. Tobirama creaked the door open, pausing for a moment when he saw her curled up figure on the steps. A frown tugged at the corners of his lips as his stare sat at the back of her head, then he was moving again, resuming his original slow and careful pace. He came up beside her, looking down at her and when she finally took note of his presence her eyes moved to meet his eyes.

Scarlet irises glared down at her with such softness and concern in them.

In a form of shame, guilty of waking him up, she cast her look down, bowing her head before returning her gaze to the garden that now looked too much like the yard from her dreams. Tobirama noticed the churn of emotion, eyes barely leaving her expression, only for a moment to follow her line of sight. The Senju sighed, watching the leaves sway in the early morning breeze.

He came to sit at her side, moving one arm to wrap around her shoulders slowly, and bring her closer into his warmth. It radiated off of him in waves, while her own warmth had worn off in the first few moments of sitting on the cold porch. She simply leaned into him, closing her eyes for a long moment, fighting off the frown and the images behind the curtains of her eyelids. Tobirama was at a loss of words, knowing how much physical affection meant for her comfort after such a dream - he didn't want to disturb this little peace he had provided then. It started to build up slowly. First with his arm wrapping around her, then when he added his other hand to stroke through her hair, tracing circles and moving through her locks.

Soon enough Y/n was completely engulfed by his embrace. Her own arms held around his torso, hanging on tight as a few stray tears ran down her cheeks.

"Y/n.." spoke Tobirama. His voice wasn't his usual baritone one, but instead it was so much more quiet, it was much softer, warm with care and love he carried for the woman in his arms. She swallowed the lump in her throat and lifted her head up, enough to meet his eyes once more. Puffy red skin surrounded her beautiful eyes, another tear taking shape already.

Tobirama exhaled through his nose, one of his open palms moving to cup her cheeks. His thumb moved back and forth with such care that it seemed as if he feared he would break her. His calloused hand held her like that, prompting her to move back slightly and let him just hold her and take a better look. His touch alone made warmth blossom over her cold skin, sending her blood circulating as her heart picked up pace.

His thumb caressed her cheek more, wiping away the tears that slid down. Before long his other hand detached itself from her waist and came to rest at the other side of her face; her own hands coming to wrap around his wrists, closing her eyes and basking in the pure solace she found in his hold. Her wet lashes touched her cheeks, fluttering ever so slightly and Tobirama watched, tilting his head to the side before leaning in. Pressing his lips against the crown of her head and holding himself there for a moment. Once he pulled away he searched for her eyes again, only to find them still closed. But the tiniest signs of a smile painted her features, it felt like color and warmth was seeping back into her.

Tobirama raised a brow when Y/n chuckled suddenly, burying her face in his open palms and hiding her abashed expression.

"What- Y/n?" Tobirama wanted to ask what was happening, confused at the sudden change of moods but he bid himself to stay quiet, a chuckle of his own interrupting his flow of thoughts. "What is it?" he opted to ask, searching for her eyes like that would give him an answer to his question.

"It's nothing, nothing at all." she responded, avoiding his gaze at first, but as the silence dragged on she was forced to look up and get captured in the eyes she loved so much.

"Well.... it's just you. You have this ability to be so sweet, and without uttering a single word." she explained herself, soft tone of voice carrying her words like a feather carried by the wind. Her voice was always a lullaby, a song, a melody to Tobirama's ears; her nimble fingers curled around his hands and brought them down from her face. And now her voice was still something so beautiful, now was no exception, and his smile was urged to spread further more at her words. And she continued- "And who would think a man so grumpy, such as yourself, would be comforting his beloved on a cold morning because of a bad dream-"

Tobirama shook his head at that, smile still ever-present on his lips.

"You have to learn to share your burdens with me, and not to hide them away and try to change the subject" he began, placing another chaste kiss on her forehead, at which she still leaned into. The troubles of her dreams would not be easily forgotten, especially not with a simple remark as she had just made. Still, Tobirama knew the limits, if he so much as saw a hint of hesitation he would stop his prying. But he knew the importance of sharing things such as these. Everyone has their limits and he would rather avoid what comes after the said limits have been surpassed. He himself suffered nightmares of his own, so he was no stranger to the heaviness they brought onto oneself.

"Let's get back inside first." He offered, said, as she stood up with one of her hands in his, bringing her up with him. She only nodded, looking at the garden for the final time before turning around with him. She moved languidly, moving into Tobirama in a subtle asking for his warmth again, which he immediately shared. Pulling her into his side once more, his arm draped around her waist as he led them both inside into the vast living room space. Morning was now quick approaching, and it would be no time until both of them had to leave for their own business. Tobirama wished they spend that time in peace and comfort.

The white haired Senju sat her down on the plush pillows at the table, guiding her carefully and gently, a hand on her shoulder before it retreated so he could stand up.

"I'll make us some tea." he announced, earning a guffawed look from his lover. With her neck craned slightly her eyes set upon his face she was met with the most gentle smile. Then he was off, disappearing into the kitchen ahead. From where she sat she could see him move about, fetching whatever he needed from the shelves.

The air was filled with gentle clicks of porcelain cups and soon the water boiling. Steam swirled in and slithered against the walls; white, thin and wispy. It moved like a snake, before being sucked out through a window that Tobirama opened, disturbing the dance of the steam. A subtle smell of mint and chamomile wafted in the air when the dry tea leaves were dropped into the boiling water, painting it a shade of honey yellow tinted with a deep green. The cool air still circulated throughout the home, now no longer as intruding as it was on the front porch but rather comforting when it began to mix with the heat inside.

Once the tea had been sat in front of the woman, her nimble fingers came to wrap around the small cup to lift it up to her lips. She paused, letting the smell come up to her nostrils before exhaling with a smile. Eyes came to close as she basked in the comforts of it. Tobirama sat beside her, nursing his own cup of tea, carefully as to not burn himself. The hot liquid was a salvation, it brought her to an ease instantly and gave her the relief of an empty mind. She had finally felt her heart settle back in her chest, the hum of her natural heartbeat returning. Even as they drank in silence, Y/n could feel the gaze of her husband as he looked over her features ,observing her every now and then, looking for any further signs of distress. And when he failed to find it he went back into his own mind, back to his own tea in hand. The silence went on undisturbed until the cups had been emptied completely. The sun now higher over the mountain that shielded the growing village.

Y/n took the utensils and the cups on the tray again, and disappeared in the kitchen to clean them. The water from the sink poured out cold and it splashed across her hands. It made her throat bob with a pang of anxiety that came out of the blue. Blood of her comrades, cold in her hellish dream. Yet she didn't stop, the thoughts only made her haste her task, and swiftly after she had been drying off the cups and placing them back on their shelves. The wave of disquiet went away, like it was never there in the first place. And Y/n went to retreat into the bedroom to change out of her own sleep clothes.

Tobirama was already inside, pulling over his work clothes just as she stepped in. He would have to take his leave very soon; it brought a sad smile to paint her features. She wished they could prolong their tranquil mornings.

Coming towards him he turned around in time for her to snake her arms around him, pressing her head against his shoulder. His arms came to envelope her, his warmth spreading across her entire body now, and his head came to lean against her. Her breath was gentle as she listened to his heart beat steadily.

"If.. if it would be of help, you could always tell me about your dreams. Don't hide yourself away from me.." said the gentle but gravelly voice of Tobirama; he treaded carefully, unsure of how exactly to word his thoughts. It was plagued with concern, he wanted nothing but to make dreams like this never happen again.

The woman in his arms nodded, eyes closed as she enjoyed the comforts of his embrace. Her hands went loose around his waist now, as tranquility overcame her once again.

"I know... I'm not hiding anything" she replied softly, nudging his head ever so slightly as to poke his neck with her nose. "It could have been worse.. but I promise to tell you when you get back, we don't want you running late" a sharp smile tugged at the corners of her lips and Tobirama seemed to feel it, as a smile of his own crept up his features.

"No, we don't want that '' he agreed, placing a quick kiss on top of her head, rubbing her back before he pulled away to gather his things.

Tobirama walked out to the front porch, his wife right behind him to say their goodbyes. He was going on a mission that day, and the night before both of them shared their time by cleaning off his armor, chatting. Now, Y/n took one more look at his armor, her fingers making a quick brush through his furred collar.

"Now you're all ready to go. Be sure to stay safe, don't be reckless" Tobirama huffed out a chuckle at her words, turning to face her fully with mirth in his eyes. She gleamed at him innocently, grinning before he brought her into a kiss. A quick one for their farewell, a silent promise of return lingering on his lips.

"I will, and you take care of yourself. '' And off he went, striding underneath the long and dark branches, and out of the yard. Fallen leaves blew and flew in the wind, as if following after him in their own silent good-luck bidding. A crow flew overhead, cawing while doing so before disappearing in the far horizon of blue.

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My Ao3

#tobirama #tobirama senju #tobirama senju x reader #tobirama x reader #tobirama x reader angst #tobirama x reader fluff #tobirama imagine #naruto x reader #naruto shippuden #naruto #n0tamused oneshot #n0tamused writes #x reader

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thatslikely · 3 years

Text

a little too much - s.s.

a little too much - stiles stilinski x gn!reader

warnings: alcohol consumption (the reader is sober), hilarious drunk stiles

word count: 1.1k

a/n: this is pure fluff of just the reader taking care of drunk stiles <3 see 1x08 for reference!! also I am so, so proud of this one so yay! go me!

“And then… and then… he… what was I saying again?” Stiles slurred, a goofy grin wide on his face.

Saying that the party you and Stiles were currently in attendance was loud would be a monumental understatement. Every beat of the song rattled the interior’s posters tacked on the walls, every adolescent swaying violently through the night air was practically submerged knee-deep in glossy, amber alcohol; uncomfortably stuffy air ascended high above the wooden fence cooping the drunken teenagers in the backyard.

You didn’t answer Stiles’ question, allowing him to continue his intoxicated ramblings; he bubbily informed you of any stray thoughts that hitchhiked into his mind.

Through Stiles’ eyes, his surroundings were reduced to an unfocused haze. The cliques the huddled together in celebration were nothing but abstract splotches against the canvas that was the dim yard. The only thing anchoring him from seemingly floating away in the lawn chair he occupied, as if he was filled with helium, was you. While the outline of your figure was still spotted with smudges of the night air, it was in more focus than anything at all. You were his tether, his lifesaver.

“Hey, Y/N, is that Lydia over there?” He droopily raised his hand to a point- the one that wasn’t loosely gripping the neck of a half-empty bottle of jack.

“Um, I don’t think that’s her,” you cooed softly, smoothing out some astray strands of his chocolate-brown hair that he had ruffled haphazardly only seconds prior. It was Lydia, in fact, and she was, for lack of a better term, dancing with some boy whose name you couldn’t place.

His teeth dug into his lips lightly, the corners of his mouth upturned slightly. “She must have a twin then.” Short bursts of giggles fluttered in his chest, only barely escaping his lips.

His body heaved with every increasing laugh, lifting his back from its slouched position in the foldable lawn chair. The bottle of whiskey insecurely gripped in his palm nearly slipped from his grasp, but with your gentle guiding, its base rested stilly on the concrete slab of a patio.

“I’d like to go meet Lydia’s twin, Y/N. Let’s go.” The last ‘o’ was elongated until his voice became airy and faded. Any hope of a levelheaded Stiles was gone for tonight.

He attempted to get up from his seat with a stumble, which was successful for all of about two seconds before he stumbled to the floor, his palms flat in front of him on the ground. He clumsily reached for a random terracotta pot, which was housing a small plant. His fingers gripped the rim for dear life as he gagged over the soil.

“Stiles, oh god, Stiles,” you said, concerned. You lightly grabbed his shoulders, feeling the rough fabric of his graphic tee between your fingers. One hand supported his back, resting on his shoulder blade; the other was holding his hand, helping him rise to his feet, all the while he was both gagging and giggling out of his mind. “Stiles, we’re gonna go on a little trip to the bathroom.”

“Ooh,” he babbled, “sounds like a bowl of fun!”

You slid open the backdoor, leading him to the nearest restroom. “A what of fun?”

“Huh?”

“Nevermind.” He hunched over the icy porcelain toilet once you both were inside. The fluorescent lights of the bathroom stung the corners of his eyes, and the faint smell of bleach only intensified his gagging.

Eventually, his hurling motions slowed to a stop, to your relief.

He straightened his spine, lifting his grip off the toilet that previously supported all his weight. “I’m fine. I’m fine. Let’s go have another drink, get absolutely wasted!”

“Stiles, you’re already plenty wasted. We’re gonna go home now, okay? You’d be even worse if you have another round.”

“Aww, c’mon Y/N, lighten up,” he groaned, his words still blending together and the end of his sentences stretched out like a rubber band. You tugged on the collar of his tee with an eye roll, forcing him to trail behind you to the front door. “I don’t wanna go home.”

Once he was buckled up safely in the passenger seat of his well-loved jeep that the both of you had arrived in, you revved the vehicle to life, feeling each familiar crease and flaw on the steering wheel under your fingers.

The majority of the drive to the Stilinski residence was silent, to your great surprise. Looking through the window, watching the blurs of shadowy trees and the occasional house seemed to lull Stiles to a peaceful sleep, though he sporadically uttered something inaudible between his soft snores.

You could’ve sworn you heard your name sprinkled in his drowsy babblings.

The golden porchlight of Stiles’ house tinged your heart with sadness. Every moment you spent with Stiles, whether he was wasted out of his wits or not, was comparable only to a breath of fresh clean air after being submerged in a pit of water. He was your lifeline just as much as you were his’, but you had yet to tell him of the love residing in your heart for him.

You’ll admit it to him soon enough though, just maybe when he’s sober.

“Hey, Stiles,” you whispered while lightly tapping his shoulder, “wake up. We're here.” His head of messy, brown hair slowly lifted from its spot against the window, a trickle of drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. He wiped it away with the back of his palm while furiously blinking.

“Oh, okay,” he replied hushedly. “Why are we whispering?”

“I just didn’t wanna startle you, that’s all.” Stiles popped the passenger side door open, nearly hopping out of the pompadour jeep with the seatbelt still slung across his chest. You got out with him, once he was unbuckled, and you escorted him to the door, arm linked with his’ supportively.

He turned the doorknob while pivoting to face you.

“Stiles, if you need anything, call me, okay?” He nodded with the goofiest smile you’d ever seen etched onto his face. You melted at the almost child-like joy in his enrapturing umber eyes, but before you could be fully reduced to a puddle of slush, he dizzily shut the door.

You walked out the curb, taking a seat as you pulled out your phone, intending to text someone for a ride. Before you could though, Stiles’ ringtone, the song you both loved to belt on late night drives in his CJ5, echoed through the idle street.

“Hey Y/N… sorry for calling. I know we saw each other like two seconds ago but I- um, just missed the sound of your voice."

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hlizr50 · 3 years

Text

How You Get the Girl

Another Gwynriel fic featuring Her Majesty Taylor Swift!

Read on AO3

Azriel groaned, rubbing his eyes against the sunlight pouring in through the window.

Too bright.

Blinking, he pushed himself up on his elbows, glancing to his right – to the empty space marked only by rumpled sheets. For a moment he considered that the night before was just a figment of his imagination, a dream. But this was not his room. The suitcase on the wall, dusted in blue flowers, definitely did not hold his clothes. The door to the suite was still open wide where he had burst through in the dark, Gwyn’s nightmare piercing through his slumber.

She was clearly already awake, and he couldn’t stop the weight of anxiety that settled in his stomach. Had she still been unable to sleep? Azriel reached up, muscles in his arms and back lengthening with the stretch. He had clearly slept like a baby, which was surprising. Restful sleep wasn’t something the executive was familiar with, but with the redhead in his arms…

“Gwyn?” he called into the room, noticing the bathroom door hanging ajar. Only silence answered, so he threw the comforter off his legs and swung them over the side of the bed. Looking down, he shook his head. Tan skin stretched over his toned stomach, and he wondered why he couldn’t have had the presence of mind to put on a damn shirt before charging into his girlfriend’s room in the middle of the night.

Girlfriend.

Azriel grinned to himself at the word.

And he couldn’t blame himself for not grabbing clothes when she had been screaming. Getting to her had been paramount, all other thoughts flying from his head.

He pushed off the mattress and combed his fingers through his tousled inky tresses. He could get a shirt now, he supposed, but once again finding Gwyn was at the forefront of his mind. And he wouldn’t deny, with a smug half-smirk, that he wanted to feel her appreciative gaze and her fingers against his bare skin. With that image playing behind his eyes, he trudged out the door and down the hall before trotting down the stairs, the smell of roasting coffee wafting up to meet him. As he descended he heard music and the unmistakable voice, a songbird crooning her morning melody.

God, her voice was beautiful.

The softest of chuckles vibrated through his chest as he realized – with the most loving eye-roll – that she was singing along to none other than Taylor Swift. Because, of course she was.

And that's how it works That's how you get the girl

And then you say I want you for worse or for better I would wait for ever and ever Broke your heart, I'll put it back together I would wait for ever and ever

And that's how it works That's how you get the girl, girl, oh And that's how it works That's how you get the girl, girl

Remind her how it used to be, be Yeah, with pictures in frames of kisses on cheeks, cheeks Tell her how you must've lost your mind (oh oh oh, oh oh oh, oh oh, oh oh) When you left her all alone and never told her why, why (oh oh oh, oh oh oh, oh oh, oh oh)

And that's how it works That's how you lost the girl

Azriel reached the archway leading to the dining room and his chest squeezed, the warmth of adoration spreading through him as he watched her head bounce to the beat. The sound coming from her lips was nothing short of heavenly as she opened and closed cabinet doors, searching for mugs for the brewing coffee, he assumed. He leaned his shoulder against the wall, crossing his arms casually and soaking in her unwitting performance. Her ponytail bobbed, and as she reached up on her toes to grasp a mug handle her fitted t-shirt rose to reveal creamy alabaster skin.

Stunning, he mused to himself. Absolutely perfect.

And now you say I want you for worse or for better I would wait for ever and ever (ever and ever) Broke your heart, I'll put it back together I would wait for ever and ever

And that's how it works That's how you get the girl, girl, oh And that's how it works That's how you get the girl, girl, yeah

And you could know, oh That I don't want you to go

Remind me how it used to be Pictures in frames of kisses on cheeks And say you want me, yeah, yeah

Gwyn filled two mugs and turned to set them on the island. Only then did her eyes flick up, widening as she saw Azriel leaning in the entryway, her voice cracking into silence. He was probably grinning like a fool, but he didn’t care. He snickered as roses bloomed across her freckled cheeks. But, to her credit, Gwyn started singing again and rounded the edge of the counter, dipping her hand into one of two paper McDonalds bags he hadn’t even noticed. She fished out… a hash brown, and held it up to her mouth like a microphone. To the beat of the song she walked toward him, swaying and serenading as she approached. Her eyes were the color of the sea, and shimmering as bright as the sun on the water. She was beaming, and Azriel’s heart could have burst with joy at the sight. Especially after the night she’d had.

And then you say I want you for worse or for better (worse or for better) I would wait for ever and ever (ever and ever) Broke your heart, I'll put it back together I would wait for ever and ever (I want you for ever and ever)

And that's how it works That's how you get the girl, girl, oh and that's how it works That's how you get the girl, girl, oh

and that's how it works That's how you get the girl, girl, oh And that's how it works That's how you get the girl, girl, oh

Azriel reached for her when she got close enough, hands gripping her hips. Gwyn wrapped her arms around his neck as she finished the performance. Her gaze never faltered, the smile on her face alight in her eyes. He felt his expression soften, letting his admiration for her fill the small space between them.

And that's how it works That's how you got the girl

He pulled her into him, dipping his chin to find her lips with his and reveling at the feeling of her fingers in the hair at his nape. It felt like he’d been waiting for this forever, to be able to kiss her and hold her and be… more. And he took to it like a duck to water. He may not know a lot about being in a relationship, but he knew Gwyn. He knew how much he cared about her, and the way she made him feel. He had so many ideas about the things they could do, places they could go, just to see that smile on her face. He felt her mouth curve up against his, a giggle rushing out of her lips.

“Good morning,” she murmured before pulling back to cast her contented gaze on his face. He just gave her a lopsided grin.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he answered. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, before tucking her head under his chin. He combed a hand through her soft ponytail. “I woke up and you weren’t there.” He felt her huff a soft laugh against his chest.

“Were you worried about me?”

Azriel pushed her shoulder back gently, allowing him to survey her face. His hand lifted, fingers stroking over her jaw. “Yes,” he whispered fiercely. “After… everything? Could you not sleep? Are you okay?” He may have melted into a puddle at the tender smile she gifted him, eyes crinkling with appreciation.

“I’m okay. Thanks to you.” She rose up on her toes to peck him on the cheek before pulling him toward the kitchen. She added over her shoulder, “I haven’t been up and going that long. I just woke up and felt restless. And you looked so peaceful, I couldn’t possibly wake you.” Reaching the kitchen he turned his gaze toward the two large McDonalds sacks sitting on the marble.

“I see you made breakfast,” he teased, and was met with a withering look as his girlfriend threw a paper-wrapped missile at him. He could only assume it was a sandwich.

“One: there’s no food in this house yet. Two: I think we both know that this is preferable to whatever I would have attempted – and likely failed miserably – to cook.” Gwyn shrugged. “Three: I didmake coffee. Four: hash browns.” She pushed one of the bags toward him and he peered inside, finding at least half a dozen of them inside.

“How many hash browns did you buy, Berdara?” Azriel set the sandwich on the counter and reached in to grab one, casting an incredulous glance at the redhead.

“I resent the judgment in your tone, good sir. Are deep fried ovals of potato-y goodness not the key to a man’s heart?” She pointed her hash brown at him. “Because they might be the key to mine.” After taking a huge bite she slid one mug of coffee over in front of him. He grabbed the mug, his sandwich, and the bag of hash browns, shooting her a winning smile.

“If I’d have known that we’d have been fucking married by now.” He jerked his chin toward the couch. “Sit with me?” Azriel didn’t give himself the chance to second guess what he’d said. It was out in the air – let Gwyn make of it what she would.

And, of course, she just followed him, reaching the sofa just as he’d made himself comfortable against the crook of the armrest and the cushioned back, setting the sandwich and coffee on the side table. She looked down at him with a thoughtful grin, eyes glimmering. He dipped his chin to the space between his spread thighs, in invitation. Gwyn’s eyes crinkled and she sat, tucking one leg under the other and settling with her back against his bare chest. Slightly askew, so she could turn her face to him if she wanted. He wrapped an arm around her waist, the bag of ‘deep fried ovals of potato-y goodness’ landing in her lap. He felt her inhale dramatically, overplaying her excitement as she snatched the bag greedily from his hand. Pulling another out – he could only imagine how many she’d eaten already – she faced him.

“Married, huh?”

Heat flooded his features. Azriel could feel the furious blush from his chest all the way to his ears. He should have guessed she wouldn’t leave that comment to burn off with the morning fog outside the grand windows. Gwyneth Berdara never backed down from a challenge, never stifled her own curiosity, and almost never bypassed an opportunity to speak her mind.

“Are you blushing, Aphelah? Usually I’m the one who has to worry about that.” She was the only one who ever teased him with his surname. He did so with her, and she had not been content until she got the information to do the same. He was a private person, and only those few people in his small circle with his adoptive brothers knew his name – the family history that was dark and terrible. Only Gwyn had ever chosen to speak it after learning of it. She had shrugged when he’d asked about it.

You are not your family, or your history. Only you determine what the name means to you and to me, but it is yours. I won’t balk from using it, unless it truly makes you uncomfortable. But it doesn’t scare me, if that’s what you’re worried about.

If he were truly honest with himself – something he didn’t do often – that moment may have been the turning point. That moment where he stepped off the edge of the cliff and straight into sweet, terrifying love.

Azriel reached a hand to scratch at the back of his neck, anxiety peaking. He was usually so careful with his words. Guarded. Something about Gwyn made him more relaxed, perhaps to his detriment. “I… I just meant that I would have – should have – pursued you earlier. I didn’t mean… fuck… I mean I hope that I didn’t –“

“Calm down Az, I’m just teasing,” Gwyn cooed, placing a tender touch on his forearm. “Although I’m flattered by your obvious adoration for me.” He let out a relieved sigh, basking in the light of the bright, beaming smile that had her nose scrunching with mirth. He wagged his head and placed a delicate kiss to her temple.

“Awfully cocky, Berdara,” he scoffed. The redhead giggled.

“You’re the one who just said you would have already wooed me to marriage with hash browns, if only you’d known that you could.” She tapped his nose.

“Fair enough,” he conceded. Her expression softened and he tilted his head, waiting for her to share her thoughts.

“I think, now that we’re here, we can both agree that we’ve been hoping for this for… awhile,” she murmured. It was her turn to blush, and Azriel’s mouth tipped up. “I’m not saying let’s get married tomorrow, but I think our friendship – and now relationship – is such that maybe we have stronger… feelings… than other couples who have been together for, you know, a day.” Her laugh wavered, uncertainty clouding her eyes. He reached up, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear.

“I couldn’t agree more. I care a great deal for you, Gwyn.”

“Even if I wake you up screaming in the dead of night?”

Azriel knew she was trying to joke, bringing them both back into their comfort zone. Big emotions and relationships were things that neither of them was terribly familiar with. All the same, he felt the need to remind her that the trauma she experienced was not a dealbreaker – did not define her worth.

“I have nightmares, too, you know. About my father, my brothers,” he confessed, fingers trailing down her arm. She knew about the abuse he’d suffered as a child, his time in the dark. “Wouldn’t you comfort me?”

“Of course I would, Azriel. Without a second thought.”

He raised a tanned hand to cup her neck and dipped his chin to brush his lips over hers. “Exactly. So I don’t ever want you to worry about it again, okay?” Azriel fixed her with a stern gaze, but smiled when she nodded. She leaned back against him and dropped the McDonald’s bag on the floor. He reached back for the breakfast sandwich waiting for him on the end table, trying to unwrap it with one hand so he could keep the other on her hip, fingers brushing back and forth in soothing strokes over her shorts. Quiet settled around them, Gwyn having pulled out her phone while Azriel ate his breakfast.

“Az?”

“Hmm?” He felt her fingers tracing over his, so he turned his hand over so he could give them a gentle squeeze.

“I care for you, too. You’re very special to me.” Her sweet voice cracked him open, warmth and sunlight pouring into his heart. He bent his head forward and kissed her hair as he wrapped his arms around her middle and hugged her to him, earning a giggle and a playful swat on his forearm. “By the way, Nesta and Cassian are en route. I think they should get here in a couple hours?”

“Hmm,” Azriel grumbled, leaning in to rest his chin on her shoulder. “Does that mean I’ll have to share you?” Gwyn laughed and leaned her head back.

“Only a little, Aphelah.” She reached a hand up and patted his cheek. “Should we tell them that we’re together? Like, before they get here?” He pursed his lips, thinking about what the best course of action would be. He didn’t think they’d necessarily be surprised. They’d probably be exasperated that it took so long.

“I don’t know. I kind of like the idea of not saying anything, then seeing their reaction when I kiss you.” He felt her body shake with giggles, a tinkling melody of windchimes in the breeze.

“Yeah, I think that’s definitely the way to go.”

Azriel brushed his lips against her cheek before leaning back, fishing his phone out of the pocket of his sweats. “Comfy, Berdara?” When he glanced over her shoulder, he spied her opening a reading app. “Please don’t read any smut while you’re draped across my chest,” he teased.

“You hush, and mind your own business,” she scoffed, waving him off absentmindedly. “You just pay attention to your own phone and be quiet like a good boyfriend.” He grabbed that dismissive hand and brought it to his lips.

“I like the sound of that,” he purred.

“Of being quiet?” Gwyn quipped, earning a poke from the hand on her hip.

“Boyfriend, you smartass.” Azriel shook his head in exasperation as she cackled, clearly pleased with herself. He kissed her fingers again before letting go, allowing peace to settle around them. He thumbed through his email with a contented half grin, hardly paying attention to the inbox. How could he read his email when Gwyn was tucked in his embrace? It was such an easy place to be. It was difficult to comprehend how truly comfortable he was with her, how happy it made him to care for her.

Breaking through his sappy thoughts, he focused on the email again, making sure to read anything marked as a priority. He wouldn’t necessarily work while he was on vacation, but he liked to stay in the loop. He didn’t know how long it had been when he looked back down at Gwyn, and his eyes crinkled tenderly to find her fast asleep.

Her phone was in her lap, pale fingers of one hand still curled around it. The other had found its way over his own, fingers loosely tangled. Her cheek lay against his breastbone, and he could feel her soft puffs of her breath against his skin. He smiled softly, brushing his fingers over her temple and cheek. She had to be tired after last night, even if she insisted that she slept well after. But at least she was here, Azriel having talked her out of her ridiculous plan to leave – to excuse herself out of vacation with all of them just to avoid “causing a scene”. He pushed his hand through his unruly dark hair with a sigh. He cursed inwardly at the pain she’d had to endure, and hated that she had continued to suffer alone. They were close friends, yet she had never shared this burden she carried. Knowing her – how considerate and kind she was, how self-sacrificing – she wouldn’t have wanted to add the weight to his shoulders.

But now that he knew? She would never face it alone. Never again.

He turned his attention back to his phone, quickly opening a group text with Nesta and Cassian.

Hey. How far out are you guys?

Nesta: 20 minutes? Half an hour? Assuming this oaf doesn’t get pulled over.

That’s quite a big assumption. When you do get here, be sure to be quiet when you come in?

Nesta: Ummmm okay? Do I want to ask why?

Azriel grinned smugly to himself. He reached up, glad his long arm could reach far enough to capture the picture he thought he might have to have printed and framed – a beautiful pale face haloed by copper-spun locks, peacefully slumbering against his tanned, toned chest. And his shit-eating, goofy grin. He wasn’t a selfie guy, but this was a special exception. With a tap of his thumb he sent it off.

Nesta: HOLY FUCK

Nesta: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Nesta: Cassian almost just crashed the car.

Nesta: He literally screamed.

Nesta: He’s still screaming. I’M SCREAMING.

Nesta: YOU TWO ARE PRECIOUS

Cass: ITS ABOUT GD TIME

Don’t text and drive, Cassian.

Nesta: Wait, so are you guys official??? When did it happen? HOW did it happen? You have SO much explaining to do!!!!

Shaking his head, he huffed a laugh. He should’ve been prepared for the Spanish Inquisition.

We are official. We’ll tell you the rest after you get here.

He looked down again at that crown of gorgeous chestnut red hair. He felt a twinge of guilt at telling Nesta and Cassian before they got to the cabin, but Gwyn’s rest was more important. They would tell the whole story once she woke. And again, when Rhys and Feyre arrived, then Elain and Lucien. He would tell the story again and again, to anyone who would listen – the story of how he got the girl.

Tag List: @tealnymph-writes @trashforazriel @secretlovelybeauty @meher-sumedha @imsointobooks @flora-shadowshine @positivewitch @tanvee1231 @imwritingthesewords @camreadsum @vikingmagic33 @shisingh @gwynrielsupremacist

#gwynriel #gwynriel fanfic #gwynriel fanfiction #gwynriel supremacy #ao3 #fanfic #acotar fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #gwyneth berdara #azwyn #gwyn x azriel #azriel x gwyn

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howtosingit · 3 years

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Fic: The Nightmare That I Call Myself

His t-shirt is sweat-soaked and twisted around him, refusing to allow his chest to fully expand the way he desperately needs it to. He tears away at it, trying to get it off, and a sob climbs up his throat and out of his mouth when it starts to feel hopeless. Finally, after an hour or a day or maybe even a year, it comes off. TK throws it across the room with a yell before he wraps his arms around himself, his fingernails digging into his sides.

He just wants to feel something.

But that’s not really his problem right now. He’s feeling too much, all at once. It’s a stark contrast from the nightmare that he found himself trapped in moments ago; a nightmare where he felt absolutely nothing. Because he was absolutely nothing.

Because he was dead.

Or, five times TK wakes up disoriented and confused, and one time he wakes up knowing he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.

Mature | 5.1K | Also on AO3

A/N: Haven’t written a word in two months, got this idea when I woke up this morning and now here we are, 10 hours later. The muse does what the muse wants. Hope you like it!

------

Someone’s screaming.

TK’s eyes fly open, the red and blue lights from his lamp in the corner adding to the confusion that he’s currently feeling. It feels like there’s an elephant sitting on his chest, and when he closes his eyes again to try to make it all disappear, all he sees is smoke and dust and collapsing buildings on fire.

It’s the same thing he’s been seeing on TV for the past few days, even though his mom changes the channel as quickly as possible whenever he’s in the room.

“TK!”

His eyes open again, finally focusing on his mom as rushes into his bedroom, the sudden lights causing him to blink against their harsh brightness. Before he knows it, there are arms wrapped around him, firm hands on his back, and a soft voice in his ear.

“It’s okay, buddy, it’s okay. You’re okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

That’s when he finally realizes that the screams are coming from his own mouth.

He stops instantly, his throat raw, but he can’t quiet the sob rising in his chest. He buries his face in his mom’s shirt, pressing against her, kind of hoping that he can disappear into her, where he knows he’ll be safe.

He closes his eyes again, and a new image appears behind his eyelids:

His dad. Covered in dirt and dust and blood, his firefighter’s helmet falling from his head, his eyes dark and empty and so different from their normal blue.

“Dad,” he croaks, his voice weak and full of pain. His heart hammers in his chest, thud thud thud. “Mommy, where’s Daddy?”

“Oh, honey, he’s okay,” his mom says, her fingers running through his hair and scratching his scalp gently, a shiver running through him. It helps to pull him out of his head, the fear disappearing at her touch. “He’s just in the other room, he’s okay.”

“Can I go see him?” he cries, the words getting lost in another sob. She understands him, though, like she always does. She’s his mom, so she always understands him.

“Of course, sweetie,” she says, holding him closer. “Let’s calm down a little bit though, before we go see him. We don’t want to scare him, do we?”

TK shakes his head, following along as she shows him how to breathe deeper. He can still feel his heart pounding in his chest, but it doesn’t feel as heavy now. The elephant has been replaced by something smaller. A gorilla, maybe, or something like that. He gets so distracted thinking about all the different animals that he’s seen at the zoo, that he almost doesn’t notice when a different pair of arms find their way around him.

He does recognize the smell, though. His dad’s soap has a really special smell.

“Daddy,” he cries, more tears finding their way to his eyes as he pulls his head back to see those familiar blue ones. They aren’t as bright as they were before, but they’re more alive than they were in his nightmare. His dad gives him a small smile, pulling him into his arms and against his chest.

“I got you, buddy. I got you. I’m right here.”

He focuses on the sound of his dad’s heartbeat, hears the way the soft words rumble through his chest. His mom is still there, too, her own fingers crawling up and down his back.

Eventually, they all lay back down, his body tucked between the two of them. He reaches out, grabbing on to each of them, pulling them even closer.

He hears them whispering above him, but their voices sound like they’re at the far end of the big, long tunnel, so he doesn’t really know what they’re saying. He watches the lights from his lamp slowly dance across his ceiling, watches as they catch on the corner of the twin-sized firetruck bed that surrounds them on all sides.

The next morning when he wakes up, he tells his dad that he wants to change his room. There’s a sad look in his eyes, but he just gives him a hug and helps him pack some things away.

-----

Someone’s knocking on the door.

TK lets out a groan, his stomach rolling. Even through his eyelids, he can see that the sun is up and pouring in through his bedroom windows, his mother’s sheer curtains doing little to keep the daylight at bay. The air around him is stale, sweaty, and smells like sex and weed. He scrunches his face, trying to stave off the nausea.

The knocking gets louder, and that’s when he realizes that it’s not at his bedroom door, but further away. Probably on his mom’s front door. Fuck. He’s going to have to get up and answer it before the neighbors complain. He really doesn’t want to have to deal with his mother when she gets home.

He throws the thin sheet off of himself, the blast of cool air making him aware of his nakedness. The back of his hand comes in contact with something solid to his left and he opens one eye to see tanned skin covered in various back tattoos under a head of shoulder-length dirty blonde hair. His gaze moves lower to take in the bare ass resting on top of his mother’s 800-thread count sheets, the outline of a handprint barely visible on one cheek. With a disgusted scoff, he pushes himself up to sit at the edge of his bed, the stranger now behind him and out of sight.

He instantly realizes his mistake as his stomach somersaults and he barely has time to notice the empty vodka bottle on his nightstand next to a little bag of white pills before he empties it onto his rug-covered floor.

He’s stumbling naked down the hallway towards the bathroom to stand under the water for the next hour or so when his brain refocuses on the knocking on the door. Now that he’s out of his room, he can hear his phone vibrating incessantly from the pocket of his jeans where they lay on the floor by the couch. He can now also hear a familiar voice yelling through the door to accompany the knocking.

“TK! I know you’re in there, I tracked your phone,” his dad yells, his knocking turning into an intense pounding. “Open the damn door!”

With a “Calm the fuck down, Dad,” TK stomps towards the door, throwing it open. He can’t help the satisfaction that crawls through him at his dad’s shocked face as he takes him in. TK doesn’t know why he’s so surprised; it’s not like this beats the time his dad accidentally walked in on him having sex with his high school boyfriend a few years ago.

“Jesus Christ, TK,” his dad huffs, pushing him back into the apartment and slamming the door behind him, obviously trying to maintain some sense of privacy. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

TK doesn’t reply, just stands before him with his eyebrows raised and his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Well? You gonna say something?”

“What are you doing here, Dad?” TK scoffs, rolling his eyes. He immediately regrets it, as the action causes a sharp pain to flare up behind his eyes. Remembering his previous goal of drowning himself in the shower, he turns to walk back down the hallway. “Mom’s out of town, you don’t have to pretend like you give a fuck about me. There’s no one around to impress.”

“Yeah, I know your mom’s out of town, that’s why I’m here,” his dad says, and TK can tell from the consistent volume of his voice that he’s following him towards the bathroom. “You obviously can’t be trusted by yourself for more than a day.”

“Oh, fuck off,” TK yells, rounding on him. “I’m right here, aren’t I? It’s not like I’ve gone missing and you’ve found me dead in an alley or something.”

His dad glares at him for a moment. Then, with a raise of his eyebrow, he points a finger at TK’s face. “You’ve got some vomit on your chin.”

TK feels a blush crawl up his neck, but before he can say anything, his dad turns towards his room, pushing open the door and walking in like he’s been invited to do so.

“Dad, wait!”

It’s too late. His dad has already stepped inside, taking in the scene. TK cringes as the smell of vomit hits his nostrils.

“This a new boyfriend of yours?” his dad asks, gesturing to the naked guy still passed out in his bed. TK says nothing, having no desire to share that he has no idea who the guy is, or that he can’t even remember his name.

His dad circles around the bed, his hand coming up to cover his nose as he spies the puddle of puke on the floor.

“You’re paying to have that rug cleaned,” he says, turning towards the large bay window and throwing it open.

“Where do you get off telling me what to do? This isn’t your house anymore, Dad,” TK spits out, but it comes out with less fire than he had hoped. The smell is really strong here, and the room has started to spin again. He starts backing away towards the bathroom, knowing he’s going to need the toilet in just a minute.

“Not a boyfriend then,” his dad says, ignoring his question. He’s made it over to the TK’s side table, where the evidence of his drug-induced evening sits. He watches as his dad grabs the bag of Oxy, waving it around before pocketing it. “Your mother is going to kill you when she finds out you brought your drug dealer into her house.”

“That’s mine, I paid for that,” TK says weakly, his heart hammering in his chest. He doesn’t want to be here right now, he doesn’t want to be anywhere right now. He wants the room to stop spinning, he wants the stranger in his bed - the one he let touch him in ways that make him suddenly feel incredibly unclean - to disappear, and he wants his dad to stop looking at him like he’s regretting the day he was born.

(But hey, TK thinks, the familiar nasty voice in his head taking center stage, at least you finally got his attention.)

His dad is across the room and standing in front of him by the time he mentally checks back into the present moment. Before TK can say another word, he’s shoving a pair of clean boxers into his hands, a look of intense disappointment on his face.

“Take a shower, son. You stink.”

And with that, he steps out of the room, leaving TK to stare at his vomit-soaked carpet, his unwanted hookup, and every other regret he doesn’t have it in him to name.

------

Someone’s pounding on the wall behind his bed.

He comes to with a gasp, lurching forward in his bed. His breathing is out of control and he claws at his chest, trying to get a grip on his lungs, to squeeze them until they burst. It’s not like they’re working correctly anyway, he thinks as he struggles to breathe through an airway that he swears can’t be any wider than a coffee stirrer, so what’s the point of having them at all.

He just wants to feel something.

Because he was dead.

The image of his prone body on the floor, unmoving, just a mass of useless limbs and wasted potential, flashes through his mind, unbidden. He chokes out another sob, reaching up to fist his hands in his short hair, his nails scratching at his scalp. He recalls a time in his life when his mother would run her fingers through his hair, grounding him with love-laced scratches. How it would settle him, how it would focus him, how it would remind him that he wasn’t alone.

He’s alone now. She’s not here. It’s just him, and the addict screaming and pounding on the wall in the room next door.

Her face comes to him, the one she wore the last time she saw him, the lines of graceful aging marred by fear and hurt and hopelessness. All for him. All because of him. All because he couldn’t get his shit together. All because he couldn’t handle his cushy, privileged existence, with his middle-to-upper class accepting parents.

All because he didn’t want to do it anymore.

Except, he does. He really fucking does. He’s felt that high of life, the one that he can get without the help of pills. He’s loved before, he’s given his all to love, and sure, it didn’t last, but it was good. It was freeing. It was worth it.

He wants to find that again. Find the people that make it worth it again. Find his purpose. He knows it’s out there, he knows it’s waiting for him to get his shit together.

He’s twenty years old and he’s nearly killed himself, but he’s not dead yet. He’s not done yet.

He’s not fucking done yet.

So, yes, he’s here and he’s alone, with only thin walls and an uncomfortable mattress to call his own. But, if this is what he needs, if this is what is going to help him find out where he goes next, then it’s worth it. It’s all going to be worth it.

He cries himself back to sleep, back into the darkness, back into the moments that will haunt him for the rest of his life.

This time, though, as he gives himself over to rest, his lungs expand to fill his entire chest, his airways now clear and fulfilling their purpose, reminding him just how alive he is.

------

Someone’s shouting.

There are a lot of voices, but they all sound muddled and confused. There are hands on him, pressing down hard against his chest, and now that he’s noticed them, he also notices the most intense fucking pain that he’s ever felt in his life, right below his collarbone. It hurts so bad that he wants to scream, he even goes as far as opening his mouth to do so, but he’s not sure if anyone hears him; he’s not even sure he hears himself.

His eyes flutter open when he’s suddenly lifted into the air, the pain spiking to new heights. He sees shadows crawling across his vision, shapes that amount to nothing more than blobs of mass. There are so many of them, and they’re all moving so fast. Too fast for him to really pinpoint.

“TK!”

Those two letters - the two letters he knows better than any others - swim through the molasses to punch him in the eardrum, and he instinctively looks towards the sound. He finds his father there, his face pinched and sweaty and terrified. It’s a familiar face, one he saw just a few months ago actually, one that he never, ever wanted to see again.

Fuck. Another overdose.

But even that doesn’t explain the sharp pain in his shoulder. He looks around, trying to figure out his surroundings, trying to make sense of all of this. He’s clean, he knows he is. It’s been hard, but he’s in a better place now. He’s with better people now. He’s truly felt like he’s finding himself, finally, after all of these years.

There’s no way he threw that away. There’s no way.

He forces himself to focus, to figure out what the fuck is going on. He turns to see Captain Blake on his left - well, his left, her right, maybe, he doesn’t know. She’s barking orders, and he follows her arms down to find her hands pressed to his chest. He wants to shout at her, tell her that she doesn’t need to push so hard, that she’s really fucking hurting him, but he can’t speak. Just like his scream before, his voice is trapped inside of him.

He looks up to see Marjan above him, lines of tears running down her face. She doesn’t bother to wipe them away, just lets them fall as her bottom lip trembles. He focuses on it, wants to tell her that it’s going to be okay, wants to reach out and rub her shoulder gently. But, as hard as he tries, he can’t seem to do that either.

He’s stuck in a world where he can’t do a single damn thing.

Suddenly, the blurry ceiling above him gives way to what looks like a wood-covered porch, which quickly gives way to the night sky. It’s all fuzzy, but he swears he can see stars up there; he never really got to see stars before moving to Austin, save for the inconsistent trips he would take outside of the city.

He likes seeing the stars. He likes the open vastness of it all. It makes him feel equally too large and too small, which is honestly a really freeing, confusing feeling.

There are blue and red lights painting the trees overhead, and he’s reminded of his childhood room, with his firetruck bed and his color-changing lamp that would soothingly move from red to blue, just the way he liked. It feels so long ago, but he remembers it so clearly. It’s the only clear thing he can see right now.

He can tell he’s fading away again, his short reprieve to the land of the living coming to an end. The voices are still both loud and muted, but he no longer cares what they’re saying. The pain is reaching his maximum capacity, the edges of his vision turning white.

It’s okay, he thinks. It’s all going to be okay.

He feels his head drift to the right, and he swears he sees a familiar face, proud nose and perfect lips under a head of soft brown curls and soulful eyes that have seen deep into the very heart of him.

He smiles, perfectly content with Carlos being his final thought before he goes.

------

Someone’s coughing.

It takes him no time at all to realize that it’s him, that he’s the one hacking up a lung. He feels like his chest is on fire and he can’t take a full breath. There’s heat all around him, flames painting his surroundings an unrecognizable, hazy orange. The bed is gone, the dresser is gone. It’s all vanishing, lost to the fire.

But that’s not what causes him to panic, that’s not what stops his breath. That’s not what threatens to shatter him completely.

Carlos is among the flames.

They’re crawling up his body, latching on to his blue shirt, the one that TK thinks makes him look completely unreal. Well, truly that’s anything he wears, but blue always makes Carlos look soft.

It makes him look like home. The greatest one that TK has ever known.

And now, TK watches as his home catches on fire, unable to move, to step forward, to pull Carlos to safety. His boyfriend watches him as the flames rise up between them, his eyes wide and full of fear, his chest heaving from the breaths that he just can’t seem to catch. TK wants to yell out, tell Carlos to come to him, that they can get out of this together if they just hurry, but every time he goes to speak, a cough climbs up his throat, burying the words inside of him.

He knows he’d be crying if he could, but the flames have stolen his tears from him, too. The flames are going to take everything from him. Everything that matters, packaged inside one wonderful, miraculous, unexpected person.

And before he can even blink, Carlos is gone, swallowed whole, no trace of the man that TK chose to give his entire heart to. He’s gone, and TK desperately wants to follow him.

There’s a creak above him and he has just enough time to look up before the entire ceiling comes down on top of him, granting him his final wish.

He jerks awake, the coughs relentless as he folds himself in half, trying to remove the smoke and ash from his body. It’s dark in the room now, the fire finally extinguished. Except, no, that’s not right, because as he looks around, he sees that everything is intact. Nothing burnt, nothing broken.

He reaches out blindly, trying to find Carlos in the dark, but he’s met with only air. He turns, taking in the empty space on the mattress beside him, the untouched pillow.

“No,” he gasps, shaking his head, and finally the tears come, no longer frightened of the untamable heat. “No, Carlos, no,” he sobs, pulling at the sheets, hoping that he can find him hiding somewhere in their depths. He claws at them, desperate, unhinged.

“TK!”

The voice is salvation, the timbre unmatched in its miraculousness. TK whips around, searching and scanning for the source. He lets out a cry when he finds him, standing in the doorway, dressed in nothing but athletic shorts, a bright white towel pressed to his curls, water still trailing down his bare chest.

Whole, untouched, safe. His home.

And TK just loses it.

In seconds, he’s in Carlos’s arms, his firm hands pressed against his back as his shoulders close around him, encasing him. His lips press to the shell of TK’s ear, his voice pouring into him like lava, filling all of his cavities and crevices left behind by the nightmare that took Carlos away from him.

“I’m right here, baby, I’m right here, it’s okay.”

TK sobs, clinging to him, his voice piercing in the quiet of his dad’s guest room. “You were there and you were surrounded by the fire and I couldn’t get to you, I couldn’t move, and I had to watch you, I just had to watch you go and then you weren’t there anymore, and it was like you were never there at all, but I couldn’t do anything, I just--”

“Hey, hey, Ty, breathe,” Carlos says, drowning out his voice with his own, pressing closer. “It was just a nightmare, we both made it out, we’re both here and we’re both okay. We’re both okay.”

“I… I can’t… I just…”

“Baby, you’re shaking, you’ve gotta calm down, okay.”

“I don’t… I can’t…”

“Here, lay back down,” Carlos says, loosening his grip a bit. TK shrieks, holding tighter. “It’s okay, trust me. TK, I need you to trust me.”

It takes him a moment, but finally TK lets him go. He closes his eyes, feeling the way Carlos lowers him back down onto the mattress. TK can still feel himself shaking, but before he can really start to panic again, he feels a weight on him, one that presses him firmly down, grounding him, holding him steady, from head-to-toe.

His eyes flutter open to take in Carlos above him where his face is pressed into his neck. He breathes, taking stock of their bodies, the way their hips rest against each other, the way Carlos firm thighs bracket his own. He brings his arms up around him, wrapping them around Carlos’s wide back before dragging one hand to the back of his neck and burying them in the soft curls there.

It’s a position he’s intimately familiar with, though unlike other times there is nothing remotely sexual about this situation. Carlos turns his head just enough to press his lips under TK’s jaw, dragging his nose along the light stubble there.

All he feels, all he sees, all he hears, is Carlos.

“Just breathe, baby. I’m right here. I’m all around you. I’ll keep you safe. Just like you kept me safe in the fire, just like you kept me grounded, just like you brought me back down when I felt scared and hurt and lost. I’m here for you now. It’s you and me, keeping each other safe, just you and me.”

He nods, letting Carlos drown him in his own form of a sermon, allowing the words to wash over him like a verse. He lets each syllable piece him back together again, remade in the image of the man he’s deemed worthy of loving him. The only man he will ever trust to do so.

He doesn’t need anything else, doesn’t want anything else. This is all he needs. This is all he will ever need.

Just him and Carlos, like this, forever.

-----

Someone’s snoring.

He comes to slowly, letting the world reintroduce itself to him. He hears music first, though it sounds tinny and, if he’s being honest, kind of grating. He shifts his hips a bit, feeling how the movement pulls against some tension in his lower back. He realizes he’s on a very hard surface and not at all on the very expensive mattress that he and Carlos splurged for a few years ago, when his husband started having his own fair share of lower back problems.

He opens his eyes, watching blue and red lights dance across the ceiling from the TV in the corner. A smile pulls at his lips as he shakes his head slightly, amused for no specific reason. Blue and red, he thinks. He’ll never escape them.

He lifts his head just enough to see the children’s TV show currently playing to an audience of none. He remembers when Carlos, fully offended at Netflix asking if he was still watching the same show after a few hours, finally figured out a way to turn that setting off. TK will have to tease him about not turning off the autoplay function tomorrow morning.

He finally focuses on the snoring off to his right, a sound so familiar that he hadn’t really registered it before, his brain just accepting that it was there. He turns his head, his smile growing as he finds his husband asleep next to him, his head resting on TK’s outstretched (and now very painfully numb) arm.

Carlos’s face is so soft, so serene, his brows slightly furrowed, his crease between his eyes just a little more pronounced. His lips are parted just barely, allowing his shallow breaths to escape and fill the living room around them. TK stares at him, overwhelmed by his beauty, overwhelmed by the feelings that are spreading throughout his chest at the sight of the man before him.

Even in sleep, Carlos is mesmerizing.

TK glances down, his heart leaping at the sight of their little boy asleep between them, his face buried in Carlos’s shirt, his light brown curls resting against the pillow beneath him. Carlos has an arm draped over him, his fingers grazing TK’s arm.

A memory flashes in his mind, one from when he was much younger, of his parents surrounding him in much the same way as they all lay together on his firetruck bed. He remembers how safe he felt between them; how between their bodies, he knew he could never be hurt.

He’s surprised to find that he feels that way even now, even as a father himself. He knows it’s because of the man before him; Carlos’s presence has always meant safety to him. He doesn’t see that ever stopping. He wouldn’t ever want it to.

He scoots just a little bit closer, groaning slightly at the numbness in his arm. He holds his breath as his husband shifts, his eyelids fluttering open. Brown eyes meet green, and TK feels the entire world shift into focus in that single moment.

“Hey,” Carlos whispers, dragging his fingers gently along TK’s side.

“We fell asleep on the living room floor,” TK whispers, scrunching his face as he shifts again, feeling the strain on his hips.

“Actually, you fell asleep on the floor, in the middle of Paw Patrol,” Carlos corrects, his hand leaving TK’s side to boop his nose. “We just decided that we would rather stay with you than sleep in our incredibly comfy beds.”

“Your back is going to kill you in the morning, you know that, right?”

“I could say the same thing about your hips,” Carlos replies, raising an eyebrow. TK says nothing, just nods his head and rolls his eyes.

“Grace is taking him tomorrow night, so we can run a bath, work out each other's kinks.”

“The fact that you are saying that and it’s not about sex makes me feel so incredibly old.”

“I never said it couldn’t be about sex.”

TK feels his jaw drop, watching as Carlos’s eyes twinkle in the blue light from the TV. He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to his husband’s lips.

“I’m looking forward to it, Mr. Strand-Reyes.”

“I’d be offended if you weren’t, Mr. Strand-Reyes.”

TK drags the tip of his nose along the ridge of Carlos’s before letting out a sigh. “Now that we’re awake, should we move to our beds, save ourselves from total regret and bodily mutilation?”

Carlos hums, looking down at the bundle of limbs between them. “It’s up to you. I just want to sleep next to you, wherever you are.”

TK takes him in for a moment, the way his long lashes brush against his cheeks, the peaceful smile that pulls at his lips as he looks down at their son. It’s a stunning image, powerful in its perfection.

“No, I think we can handle one night,” he says, scooting closer. He does remove his arm from under Carlos’s head, replacing it with the throw pillow laying on the ground next to them. “Besides, I think this is exactly where we’re supposed to be.”

Carlos hums in agreement, wiggling a little closer and smacking his lips softly as he drifts off to sleep.

TK stays awake until Carlos’s soft snores drown out all possible distractions, the feeling of absolute love and certainty filling him with a heaviness that drags him back into the darkness of sleep, all nightmares kept at bay for now.

#tarlos #tarlos fic #911 lone star #tk strand #carlos reyes #I wrote a thing #5+1 fic #please let me know what you think - it's been a minute and I tried some new things

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beigehearts · 3 years

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mmm this does intrigue me... A LOT I love the crazy hillbilly vibes fem!reader

CW: corpses(very descriptive!), blood, kidnapping, puking

It's an early morning, and the dew on the grass shines when the sun hits is. Mother is helping the servants make breakfast and father has gone into town for work. It's not often that you wake up so early, and you would like to enjoy your time outside. Mother does not like when you wander around outside because you always come back with the hem of your dress dirty and tattered. In order to avoid the wrath of your mother, you put on some pants that one of the stable boys let you borrow. Oh but if mother ever saw you in pants when not riding, then you would have to pray for your life.

You lay down in the damp grass, trees providing some shade, but sun still covering your body. It's a beautiful day, you think you may go horse back riding later. Your favorite horse, Tim Tam, would be excited to see you.

Wind blows, rustling the grass around you, sending a chill up your spine. You can just barely see your house in the distance, you walked quite a ways.

The sound of a horse clopping nears, stomping in the grass and surely leaving tracks. You sit up and look around, but can't find the source of the sound. One of the stable boys must have taken a horse out for exercise. Without warning, a horse leaps out of the trees, it rears in front of you and lets out a bellowing neigh. You gasp and scatter backwards.

The horse brings it's hooves down with a loud 'thump'. A man sits atop the horse, tall and intimidating. He dawns dark clothing, between farm clothes and noblemen clothes. There is no other way to explain it. His hair is tied up in a pony tail, and it is quite long. But that's not what catches your attention. It's his eyes. Dark and hollow, endless, hypnotizing.

You clear your throat and stand up, patting the dirt off of your pants. "Hello sir, what brings you around here?"

His voice is flat, monotone, and unchanging. "Get on."

"Excuse me?" You ask, completely baffled.

This scene reminds you of an old story your mother told you. Somewhere in Greece there are two gods, a dark one taking the woman who is amongst the flowers.

He seems angry, only slightly furrowing his brows. It's his eyes that tell you he's frustrated. He leans down, and grabs you by your bicep, gripping it tightly.

"Hey! That hurts!" You yelp out.

There's no time to react when he yanks you from the ground, seating you in front of him on the saddle.

"What are doing?!" You exclaim, unable to move with one of his arms holding you against him. He digs his stirrup into the side of his horse, and with one hand holding the reigns, rushes off.

No matter all of your screaming and crying, there is no escape or answers. Eventually your throat is raw from the yelling, and you fall silent. It feels as if you speak that blood would fill your mouth. Soon enough, a fence comes into view. Beyond the fence you can barely make out a farm house across from the acres of fields. The horse jumps the fence, and trots contently towards the house. As you get closer, you realize just how big this house is. It must be three times as big as your own house. There's a barn to the side of it, it's doors wide open, but it seems that there are no animals inside.

A servant is waiting outside of the house, and when the both of you dismount the horse, he leads it to some stables. The man who abducted you grips your wrist tightly, enough that you know there will be bruises. He remains quiet, and you do the same. The doors are grand, and he pushes through them. He leads you through the foyer and to what must be the Great Chamber of the house. Sitting in a love seat with a round wooden table in front of her, is a tall woman dawning a fascinator, and an elegant dress.

Without turning to look at you she says, "I see you obtained her Illumi. The servants are waiting in her room." So his name is Illumi?

"Thank you mother." He returns.

He leads you up excessively tall stairs and down a hall to a door with locks on the outside of it. He pushes you inside and locks the door behind you.

In the room there are three women, standing in a line with their heads bowed. "Welcome my lady." Says the woman in the middle. The woman to the left follows, "We are to wash and dress you." The woman on the right adds, "Please allow us to do so."

Soon enough, you're sitting on a chair in the nude, the women using cloths on your body. They dip them into the bucket with soapy water, and rubs the cloth up and down your body. You're dressed in under garments, and then in a round gown. Your face is covered with powder, some light lip balm rubbed against your lips, giving them a rosy tint. Lastly, your hair is styled in a way that it never has been, it takes two hours.

It's dark by the time the women unlock the door and leave. You wander around the room, examining the furniture. The curtains are drawn, so you look outside. It's hard to see anything in the dark, the light from the barn being just bright enough to see in the distance. There's a thump from below you, and you peer down closer to the house. Someone is dragging something off of the deck, but as they get further away from the house, you are unable to see them.

If being abducted weren't enough evidence, there is definitely something wrong here. When you try to speak, all that comes out are quiet whimpers and squeals. It's painful to the point you wish you had never tried to speak.

You realize that the bedroom door is cracked, leading to the dark hallway. You make your way over to the door and peek your head out, looking both ways down the hall. It's almost pitch black, the only light from a window, shining bright moonlight. You step out and find yourself wandering to the end of the long hall. A room with two doors which are wide open presents itself. A man sits on the unusually large bed, examining your every move.

He calls out to you in the darkness, "Come in. I don't bite."

You tip toe towards him, standing in front of the bed where he sits. He's large, the moonlight reveals his muscles, and glowing blue eyes. "You will make a wonderful wife." He leans forwards, and pets your face, holding your chin in his hand.

"So strong, so smart. Yes, a wonderful wife for my son." He says. You would protest but there is no way you could produce sounds from your mouth. These people are fucking crazy. "Go on now, explore your new home."

You happily do as he says, pulling your face away from his hand and scurrying out into the hall, and down the stairs. Have these people not heard about candles? They have servants, so they must be able to illuminate their house.

The house is eerily still, the air stiff. The front door, you'll go out pf the front door. But you have a feeling if you try to escape there will be someone on guard.

You push through the heavy doors, needing to put all of your weight and strength in order to open it. The door slams behind you, and you let out a sigh, wiping sweat off of your forehead. Yes, they are neurotic.

This is where you saw the person below you dragging something. There's a path in the grass where something has been pulled through. It's flattened it, leading far away.

You pick up your dress, stepping down the stairs and following the path. Eventually your arms get tired and you drop your dress to the ground, allowing it to be tainted. Your feet begin to hurt as well, so you pull off your shoes and carry them. The grass is wet, and makes a gross squelching sound when your feet meets the ground.

Soon enough a light can be seen, it's the barn. The path leads directly to the barn. Your dress is muddy, the beautiful peach color having turned into a gross black and brown color at the hems.

Your heart begins to pound as you begin to near the wooden structure. You debate turning around and going back to the house, or even trying to escape... but something compels you to continue.

The doors are shut, before they were wide open. Once you step onto the concrete in front of the doors, you wipe your feet on it. Trying to get the gross muddy feeling off, not accomplishing this. You take a moment to gather yourself, and grab the handles of one of the barn doors. Similarly to the house, the door is just as heavy. Your feet scrape against the ground as you pull on the door, causing them to bleed. Quickly you slip inside the door before it shuts on you. Your feet sting and your hands burn from the effort.

It stinks, it smells absolutely rancid. It smells like rotting bodi-...

Humans. Corpses. They hang from the ceiling upside down, being drained of their blood as farmers do with chickens. The ground is covered in blood, a puddle of it that you could swim in. Some people are pinned against boards or walls, just as Jesus was. There's a large bin in the back where bodies are piled into, hands and feet and legs and arms hanging out of it.

The smell is overwhelming. The sight is overwhelming. You fall to your knees and hang your head back, looking at all the nude corpses. Mortifying. Their faces seem to hang off of their head, as if they're melting. Well, those of them that still have faces. Some are blue and purple, some are missing arms. There arms hanging down from the bodies, as if reaching out to someone for help.

Who could do such a thing. What man would do such a horrible thing. You fall forward, holding yourself up on all fours. There's a pile of hair underneath you, and can feel the bile rising in your throat. You can't help it, everything you've eaten in the past week comes pouring out. But at least it smells better than the bodies.

A hand pats your back, and weakly you turn your head to look up. There, 'Illumi' stands, watching you with emotionless eyes.

He looks at the travesty in front of him and back at you. "It would have been best that you stay in the house." He walks forward, and reaches out, touching the hand of one of the hanging corpses. He grips the hand and rips it off of the body, but there's no blood left in that body to come out. It's bloated and diseased, but he throws it into the bin of bodies.

"Go to bed. I will send breakfast and medicinal herbs to your room in the morning." Before waiting for an answer or a reaction, he leaves, leaving you leaning over your own puke.

You would stuff your face in the puke if that meant not smelling the rot anymore. Instead you hurry out of the barn and collapse on the concrete. 'Oh god, oh god please spare me' repeats in your head. It can only get better, right?

#illumi #illumi zoldyck #yandere illumi #illumi x reader #hxh #hisoka #chrollo #yeehaw #hill billy #yandere

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starlightrows · 3 years

Text

Separation Anxiety

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: A little bit or angst, abandonment issues, fluff

Summary: You leave the Razor Crest for a couple days, but Grogu doesn’t understand that you’re coming back. A story through the eyes of The Child.

AN: I’m a little late posting this, I had a really bad day on Friday. But I wanted to finish this and release it as soon as possible because I feel better when I can stick to a routine. Please note that all the italics are Grogu attempting to speak out loud, but all Din and reader hear is the canon babbling and cooing we hear in the show

I wake up to the sound of Dad’s voice, he’s speaking softly in the way he only talks to me and Mama. I want to get up and play in the grass like yesterday, but sometimes our house moves when I’m asleep so I don’t know if the grass will still be there. I poke my head up out of the crib, and look around.

Dad is checking over a blaster, the smallest one that Mama carries when we go into town. I’m not allowed to touch those, Mama says they’re dangerous. Mama has her back turned, but it looks like she’s busy putting things away. She does that a lot. I wonder what she’s putting away now, I helped her put away the toys before bed yesterday.

“Mama!” I call out for her. She and father turn to me.

“Too late,” I hear Dad say. I don’t know what it is too late for, the day just started. Mama is coming towards me, and oh I just can’t help it I love it when she picks me up.

“Don’t worry darling, he woke up twice last night so his nap will come early,” you say to Din.

How could Mama possibly be thinking about nap time now? Now is time for food, and play time and probably Dad going to work.

“I’ll start breakfast,” Dad says

“Breakfast!”

Mama holds me while we eat our breakfast, but Dad doesn’t take his hat off. That probably means he’s going to work today. I know Mama will make him eat something before he goes. Mama gets upset when Dad forgets to eat. After breakfast we go outside. Our house moved while I was sleeping, but there’s different grass..... and big bugs flying around.

“Mama can I go play with the bugs?” I ask her.

“Do you want to play hide and seek ad’ika?” She asks me. Sometimes I don’t think she can hear me very well, because she answers me funny. But then again, her ears are very small.

“No. Bugs!” I yell running down the ramp to go catch the nearest floaty bug. I almost catch it too, but I jumped too late and the bug is getting away. So I chase after it.

I spend all afternoon outside but eventually, I give up on trying to catch the floaty bugs. They fly too high and always seem to know I’m coming. I’m getting tired, maybe Mama was right about a nap. I turn back to look for our house, it’s right where Dad left it with the ramp down. Mama and Dad are sitting on the ramp together, talking.

Why do grown ups talk so much? Mama and Dad like to play with me. But they don’t play by themselves or with each other, they just talk. I head over towards them, maybe they will stop talking and Mama will come nap with me.

When I get up to them, Mama immediately goes to pick me up. But she keeps talking to Dad.

“It all worked out, now we can have a family night before the trip and we’ll save some credits having you drop me off,”

“The glass is always half full, isn't it cyare,?”

Mama laughs, but I don't get it. Full of what? Is it juice? Is it juice for me?

“Mama,” I try to get her attention “Mama”

“Oh boy, looks like I was wrong about nap time, he’s gonna sleep well tonight” she says. Dad stands up, and helps Mama stand too so she doesn’t have to put me down.

Wrong about nap time? Now is a perfect time for a nap. But it’s later than I thought it was, the sun is starting to go down, and Mama is handing me to Dad so she can make dinner. Dad didn’t go to work today, I wonder why...

“Dad, are you going bye bye soon?” I ask him

“Yeah, did you have fun running around all day ya little womp rat?” He asks. Dad must not have very good hearing either. Or maybe his hat makes it hard for him to hear me.

Mama finishes making dinner, Dad closes the big door and takes off his hat so we can all eat together. After dinner, Mama scoops me up and takes me to her bed. I get excited, Mama and Dad’s bed is bigger than mine and has puffy pillows to jump on. But Mama is not in the mood for jumping, tonight she tells me she wants to snuggle and do stories.

Dad joins us. He takes off his shiny clothes and his hat, and lays down with Mama and me. Dad likes Mama stories, he puts his head on Mama’s tummy and listens to her talk. Mama holds me against her shoulder, and rubs my back. I’m trying really hard to stay awake, but I can’t. Mama’s arms are warm, and her voice is quiet. I’ll ask her how the story ended tomorrow.

The next day I wake up, and someone different is holding me. Dad’s shoulder is usually warmer than Mama’s, but not as soft. Especially since he’s wearing his shiny clothes again. Someone kisses the top of my head. That must be Mama. I’m still sleepy, so I don’t open my eyes yet. Dad rumbles below me. He must be trying to talk.

Suddenly the sound of the door opening, surely now Dad must be going to work. But if Dad is going to work, why isn’t Mama the one holding me?

I open my eyes. It’s too bright. But I can see a figure going down the ramp holding a big bag. My eyes adjust and I see that it’s Mama. Why is Mama going down the ramp so early in the morning? And our house moved again! I’m confused. If Mama is leaving the house, why aren’t we following her?

“Dad?” I try to ask. Dad makes a disappointed sound.

“Dad!” I try again

“Say bye bye ad’ika” he whispers waving my little arm

“MAMA!” I yell as I start to panic “Mama come back!” I’m getting upset. Mama never leaves. And her bag is really big. Is that what she was putting away yesterday? Why is Mama going bye bye?

“Dad!” I whine “Dad please! We have to go with her. We have to go with Mama!”

He doesn’t understand me. They never do. I’m so frustrated I can’t help it, I start crying

“Why Mama go bye bye?” I wail “MAMA!”

Dad closes the big door. I’m getting more upset. I don’t understand what happening. And Dad can’t understand me when I ask. And I just want Mama to hold me and give me kisses.

“It’s okay buddy,” Dad says “It’s okay I’m sad she went bye bye too,” Well that doesn’t make any sense. If Dad is sad she left, then we should go with her. Dad takes me up the ladder. But I don’t stop crying. He isn’t listening to me.

When he gets to the window room, Dad puts me on my chair and buckles me in. He gives me my ball, and I stop crying for a minute. I really like this ball, it’s kind of heavy and it reminds me of the training ball we used to have in the temple. Sometimes I tell Mama about what it was like growing up in the temple. About the masters that used to come visit the younglings to tell us stories or their adventures or teach us lessons. Mama smiles and looks in my eyes when I talk to her, it tricks me into thinking she understands me sometimes. But now I’m thinking of Mama again, and I begin to cry.

Dad finishes turning on the lights and hitting buttons in the right order, and our house is going up up up into the stars. Which means we are leaving Mama here. I can’t understand why this is happening. Mama tried to leave when I was asleep. She didn’t even want to say goodbye to me. I must have done something very naughty to make her leave me and Dad.

Dad turns to me and unbuckles my seat. He holds me to his chest and lets me keep crying. He doesn’t say anything. Maybe he’s crying under his hat too. He pats my back and shakes up and down me a little bit. It feels nice. He can’t understand what I ask him, but at least he understands that I’m upset.

“It’s okay buddy. We’re gonna have a fun week okay?” Dad says. I keep crying. I don’t want to have a fun week, I want Mama.

I sit with Dad all day in the window room as the stars zoom by. I stop crying but I don’t let him put me down. I can’t stop thinking. What did I do? Why did Mama leave? I don’t understand.

The days go by painfully slow. Dad puts our house in front of a big puddle, so big that everything on the other side looks small. He plays outside with me every day. Lets splash in the water, chase bugs and frogs. He lets me dig holes in the mud and bury rocks. Dad washes all of the blankets and sheets from our house in the big puddle and hands them to dry on the trees. He washes all of his clothes in the puddle too, and polishes the shiny clothes with something that looks fun to play with but smells terrible. It’s not so bad, playing with Dad all day on this puddle world. But at night time when it’s time to go to bed. I miss Mama so much my heart hurts. I try really really hard not to cry. But I can’t. I just want her to tuck me into my bed, or snuggle with me. I want her to tell me stories or sing to me.

But I’m trying. I’m trying especially hard to be good for Dad. Maybe if I’m really good Mama will come back. And I know I’m good Dad won’t leave. Dad used to take me everywhere with him when we first met. I was too scared of him to be bad. He wasn’t so scary after a while, especially after he met Mama. But I felt so safe with them. I guess I felt too safe because I messed up, and now Mama’s gone. I have to be good. I have to be good so Dad won’t leave too. I don’t want to be alone again. I don’t let Dad put me to bed in my crib. If he shuts the crib doors, they might not open again.

I wake up from a nap sitting on Dad’s lap, and I heard voices. Dad is talking to someone. I open my eyes, curious to know who’s here.

It’s Mama! It’s Mama right in front of me!

“Mama!” I shout trying to reach for her. But my claws pass straight through her. I keep trying to reach her, but she isn’t really here.

“Looks like ad’ika woke up just in time,” Dad says “Say hi to Mommy,”

“Mama! Mama I’m so sorry. Please come home. I promise I’ll be good. I promise!” I tell her

“Hi baby! I miss you so much. I’ll be home tomorrow, and I’ve got presents for you,” she says. She looks up at Dad “How’s he been?”

“He’s been having a hard time. I don’t think we explained well enough that you’d come back,” Dad says.

“To be fair, he’s never a day apart from me since the moment we met,” Mama laughs lightly

“Yeah. Well hurry home, he’s not the only one who misses you” Dad says

“A taste of your own medicine my love. But I miss you too. I’ll be at the docking bay by tonight, you’ll be there to pick me up?”

“Sounds good”

“Okay, bye baby! I’ll see you tonight,” Mama waves goodbye and the com clicks off.

I’m upset again, but I don’t cry. Mama is giving me a second chance? Or she was always planning on coming back? I don’t know, I’m so confused. All I know is I’ve been good this week, and she’s coming back. So I have to keep being good, and make it up to her when she gets back.

Dad packs up our house, and we go up up up again into the stars. We really are going to pick up Mama. But it takes so much longer to get back to where we left her. I try not to be fussy on the ride there. But everything is going so slow.

Finally finally finally, we get there and Dad puts the house exactly where it was a week ago when we left. And now we wait. Dad tries to play with me, he offers me my ball, which I take. But I just hold it. I watch the big door. Waiting for it to open. Finally, I hear it. I hear the clicking and the hiss. The door is opening and the ramp is going down.

There she is!

“MAMA!” I scream, dropping my ball and running as fast as my little legs will let me go. Mama smiles and drops her bags on the ground. She takes two big steps and scoops me up, cuddling me to her chest. Dad steps in and wraps his arms around us. He gently knocks the top of his hat into Mama’s forehead and stays there. I get a little jealous, and try to push Dad away.

“You got to talk to mom on the com for who knows how long yesterday! I want kisses!” I say trying to hold Mama’s face.

“Hi baby. Did you miss me? Did Dad take good care of you?” She asks, she presses kisses all over my head and in between my ears.

“Mama, I’m so sorry! I’m sorry I was naughty. I won’t play with your magic potion bag anymore. I’ll eat all my food and go to bed when you tell me. I’ll be good. I promise I’ll be good. Please don’t go!” I bury my face in her shoulder and start crying.

“What did you do to him, Din?” She asks Dad, she bounces me in her arms. I can’t tell if she’s making a joke or not.

“I told you cyare, he really missed you. I don’t think he knew you were coming back,” Dad says as he heads down the ramp to collect Mama’s things.

“Oh,” Mama coos at me “It’s okay. It’s okay ad’ika. It’s okay. Mommy’s here. I won’t leave you again. I was always gonna come back,” a

Dad puts her stuff away, and shuts the door. He leads us to their big bed and takes off his shiny clothes and hat again. He lays down and pulls Mama and me down on top of him.

Mama whispers to me. She tells me that she loves me. And she’s sorry I was afraid. She tells me that she missed me when she was gone, and that she’s proud of me for being good for Dad. Dad holds Mama, and tells her about all the fun things we did. Eventually I fall asleep, feeling safe and warm.

Maybe Mama and Dad don’t always understand what I’m trying to tell them. But they do love me and protect me.

#Late Friday Post (again)#The Mandalorian #Din Djarin #Baby Yoda #Grogu #Din Djarin x reader #Fluffy #Angst #separation anxiety #Grogu is trying really hard to communicate #parenting is rough #if anyone is reading this again and notices it’s different for some reason the first paragraph wasn’t in the original post

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willowbleedsonpaper · 4 years

Text

Play Dumb

Draco Malfoy x Ravenclaw Female Reader

W.C. 3500

A/N: Hello! So this is my first time posting something I wrote. I’m a little nervous but also very proud of this. I apologize in advance if there is any mistake, English is not my first language.

I would love to know what you think! Thank you and happy reading.

Summary: One day visiting your friend Myrtle, you found that she already had company. Learning some things you shouldn’t about Draco Malfoy you become really nervous around him and see yourself in the need to face him.

*Not my GIF. Credits to the creator*

You knew you shouldn’t be out so late, the corridors were completely empty and the echo of your hurried footsteps were so loud you wouldn’t be surprised if some prefect caught you just because of the sound.

But you weren’t the only one out past curfew. The sound of laughter and chase reached your ears from the end of the hallway and there was only one escape. You waited until whoever was having worse luck than you ran past so you could turn and head to your destination. Just as your back rested flat against the stone wall a group of Gryffindors ran the opposite direction from where you were followed close by Mr. Filch who limped as fast as he could after them.

You counted to ten on your head, letting out a breath and resuming your way. The second floor girl’s bathroom was rarely visited by anyone, but you found comfort in the friendly chat you could have with the fellow Ravenclaw, even is she was dead. Not many took the time to get to know Myrtle and she didn’t give chances easily after being called names and thrown things her way, you on the other hand, gathered the patience and tried your best to be an enjoyable company to the girl. You argued, many times ending in an exchange of shouts and petty insults but you always came back and Myrtle always welcomed you with open arms.

So to say that you were shocked to hear a different voice from Myrtle’s as you walked through the door was an understatement. You tiptoed your way in, curious as to who would be there that late at night, you never encountered anyone else there on your visits.

“Myrtle?” you called, taking the last steps to where Myrtle usually. There on the floor sat a boy, he rested his body against the wall, hugging his knees and looking up to nowhere in particular. He didn’t seemed to have heard you until his head snapped at you, your shoe stepping in a puddle of water.

“What are you doing here?” he grumbled, clearly annoyed as his wide eyes changed into a glare. It was Draco Malfoy. You could see him now more clearly, his hair was little wild and his eyes looked tormented, but otherwise it was just the Slytherin Prince in the flesh.

“I came here to see Myrtle.” you answered him, opting to not say a thing about his puffy eyes of the fact that his hands shaked at his sides “I can go,” you offered pointing at the door “She’s not here anyway” and with that you turned on your heel, leaving without another word.

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

Your days at Hogwarts were peaceful and full of joy. You adored each and every single one of your classes even if you weren't the best at them, the fact that you tried was enough for you, spending time at the library to research the subjects you didn’t fully understand and just for the sake of being there. If someone was looking for you that would be the first place to look.

You were rarely alone. You were always by your housemate and best friend side, Luna Lovegood, and so it wasn’t a surprise to find her alongside her friends from Gryffindor, Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom. Ginny was the only Weasley you ever considered talking to, the others were too involved in the drama of Harry Potter’s life, and even if you caught on the looks Ginny would give the boy who lived, she didn’t drag the problems with her.

You were happy.

The biggest problem you’ve had in all your years at Hogwarts involved failing a test. That was it. You weren’t a brilliant witch like Granger but you weren’t stupid either. You learned even if that didn’t reflect on your grades all the time.

And yet, lately you found yourself nervous all the time. You felt watched, every place you turned a certain Slytherin was looking your way. Sometimes his eyes would drift away from you and pretend he wasn’t staring but in more than one occasion you’ve locked eyes with him and he shamelessly would keep on looking at you.

Did you do something to anger him? No, you would remember something like that. You’ve barely crossed paths with him, much less talked to him. Then why the sudden interest in you?

“Y/N?” you turned your eyes to Luna next to you, giving her a shy smile “Are you alright?” she asked you with a little smile of her own.

You nodded your head, and took a sip of your juice in front of you “Sorry Luna,” you said “I’m just distracted, that’s all.”

“Yeah,” she sighed happily “I can see that. I’ve also noticed how Draco has been staring at you the entire week” she said, you choked a little on your juice at the casual tone with which she spoke. She handed you a napkin, muttering a Thank you you took it from her hand. Luna tilted her head in your direction “Haven’t you noticed?”

“Actually, yes.” you answered nervously “I don’t why, though.”

Luna hummed softly under her breath, turning gracefully to the table and getting a piece of fruit “Maybe it has to do with your encounter with him” she said.

“Why is that? We barely spoke” you frowned at her, the idea never crossing your mind

“Well, if I was Draco and someone had seen me potentially crying I would be scared of that someone gossiping” Luna smiled, grabbing her bag and holding her hand out for you to take “You coming?” she asked.

You mirrored her actions, taking her hand and walking to your first class of the day. You found it difficult to concentrate the entire day, Luna’s words ringing inside your head at all times. You couldn’t grasp your head around the idea of Draco Malfoy being scared of you telling everyone that you saw him crying. Why would anyone do that? Everybody cries, it’s human.

You pushed the thoughts aside, or as much as you could, and carried on with your day as normally as you could. The back of your head burning at all times with glares and stares from the blonde boy.

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

“What’s gotten into you?” Blaise Zabini took his usual spot next to Draco on the common room, the fire burning as he started intently into the flames.

“What do you mean?” Draco asked back, never lifting his eyes to look at him.

Blaise laughed softly, pointing his hands at him “That’s what I mean.” he exclaimed “You’ve been inside your head the past week, barely putting any attention to any of us or the classes. How many times have you asked for my notes?” he asked with a raised eyebrow “Pansy’s? Theo’s? Merlin! Next thing we know we’ll have to give the class ourselves”

Draco’s glare made Blaise slump a little in his seat, but he didn’t walk away or apologized like many did. Years of practice being around Draco did that to you.

“It’s called thinking, Zabini” he growled standing from his seat “You should try it some time”

“Where are you going?” he asked Draco who stopped at door of the common room. Draco only flashed his prefect badge at him, turning and leaving without uttering a word.

No one had said anything to him, not a comment making fun of him nor a funny look, nothing. He was on edge every time he stepped on his common room and heard his friends laughing. The first thought coming to his head being They're laughing at me. But it was never the case. Why was he so scared of you saying something? Did you even notice he was crying? He didn’t even knew your name until two days back when Longbottom shouted for you on the middle of the courtyard, you ran towards him and didn't even spare a glance his way.

Y/N Y/L/N. A Half-blood Ravenclaw.

He would have never acknowledged your existence if it wasn’t for those miserable ten seconds he talked to you, and know you were his every waking thought. Why did he had to breakdown that night? Why did you have to go there at the same time as him?

Why was he walking to the exact same place where yet another problem was thrown over his shoulders?

He opened the door, finding it empty. Maybe it was just a coincidence you were there that night. He made his way to one of the windows, sitting down so the moonlight would shine over his face. He closed his eyes, shaky breaths leaving his lips as he tried to even his breathing. Then the door burst open.

“Myrtle!” It was you again, he rolled his eyes standing and crossing his arms over his chest, you halted and squinting your eyes at him “Hello” you said, recuperating quickly from the shock and walking past him “Have you seen Myrtle?” you asked him so casually his entire unbothered look faltered.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in annoyance, his face hardened as you pulled several things from your bag without a care in the world.

“I could ask you the same thing?” you said back, not bothering to look at him.

“I’m a prefect” he said matter of factly and your entire body stiffened, standing up straight with your eyes scrunched closed.

You cursed under your breath, but then you came to the realization that you were in the girl’s bathroom, your body relaxing as you asked him “Are you patrolling the bathroom?”

He was about to answer but no words left his mouth, he stared at you in anger and pointed to the door “I have to report you”

You turned your entire body to him, he had to admit you were intimidating with the look of determination in your eyes, your straight posture that make you look taller than you were but still, you had to tilt your head upwards to stare into his eyes “Right, let’s go to professor Flitwick. I bet he’ll love to hear how you find me in your patrol through the girl's bathroom.” the words left your mouth so fast you didn't even had control over your voice, sounding like a complete bitch.

“Sorry,” you sighed, still accommodating your place “But I’m not going with you” you shrugged, giving him a side glance to see his reaction.

He scoffed loudly, the bitterness in his face almost making you uncomfortable but you were more taken aback at his reaction, turning completely to him with a frown. “You’re trying to blackmail me, aren’t you?” he laughed humorlessly missing your face contort in one of utter confusion.

“Excuse me?” you said, letting your body fall to the ground sitting there as you looked at him pace.

“You are going to tell the entire school that you saw me crying the other night unless I let you get away with this.” he said, his pacing increasing as he started to rant “I knew there was a reason you didn’t tell anyone…”

“Malfoy”

“...I knew Ravenclaw’s were clever…”

“Malfoy!”

“...this is infuriating!”

“DRACO!” you finally shouted, grabbing his shoulders to hold him in place “Who was crying?” you asked and watched his face fell.

“What?” he whispered, you gave him a concerned look and he shook himself from your grasp “You mean you didn’t see me?” he asked relieved, a relief that quickly was replaced with anger. How could he had been so stupid?

“Draco” you called softly, keeping your distance as you noticed how he had tensed at your touch “Are you alright?”

He shoot you a glare, practically fuming “Stay away from me” he growled and stormed away, leaving a very bad energy in the air.

You sighed, picking up your bag and getting all your supplies inside. Your painting session would have to wait. You stayed a few more minutes chatting with Myrtle, the only thing she could talk about being Draco and how he visited her too from time to time.

That night you stay up until late, wandering what other things did Draco do that you didn’t know of. You wondered why was he so scared of you and the information you learned of him.

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

Weeks passed by and you had managed to avoid Draco at all costs, dominating the art of ignoring stares you tried to never be alone, you also cut short your visits to Myrtle, her telling you specifically which day to go. You didn't question her, you even managed to convince Luna to tag along a few times.

Everything was going great. You changed spots and instead of visiting Myrtle you found a windowsill covered by a thick curtain where you could sit and read, sometimes even paint.

So when someone cleared his throat from beside you, you jumped in your place, heart beating hard as you turned to face whoever interrupted your reading. Coming face to face with stern grey eyes.

“Merlin,” you breathed out, catching your breath as you picked your book from the floor “Next time announce yourself or something.” you said.

“Go to your common room” he said, walking past you. You stayed frozen in place and he seemed to notice, his head turning to look at you in disbelief “Now!” he hissed but you still couldn’t take a step.

“Aren’t you going to report me?” you asked him.

He began to lose his patience, marching towards you and you stumbled back as you caught sight of his sleeves rolled up his arms, bracing yourself against the wall “Do you,” he said eyeing your entire body “want me to report you?”

Saying your heart rate was normal would be a lie, that your arms were not shaking would also be a lie. You swallowed the gulp in your throat, shaking your head fast you avoided to look at him and what you just saw, ducking your head down “Goodnight Draco” you said making a beeline to your dorm. Who knew Draco had a tattoo?

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

You were officially paranoid. Everywhere you go your eyes scanned the room at least three times for the Slytherin Prefect, and if you even saw a glimpse of him you would run the opposite direction like your life depended on it. You would collapse on other people walking, drop their books or leave your friends abandoned in the middle of a hallway with confused looks, by now they didn’t question you, they just sighed and waited for you to return on your own or for them to find you again.

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell them that Draco Malfoy had you walking on eggshells, that you couldn’t be in the same room as him out of fear of him snapping at you.

You were terrified.

And Draco had caught up in your odd behaviour, he never paid attention to you but now it was hard not to. As soon as your professors said the class was over you jumped to your feet and ran; he went several times to the second floor bathroom in the hopes that he would found you there, he even tried the same windowsill where scared you so bad you dropped your book. He thought of going to your friends but not one time did he gathered the courage to do so. He was lost.

“Draco?” he lifted his head from the book spread over the library table, his eyes falling back to the pages as he met Pansy Parkinson’s eyes “We looked all over the castle for you” she said, a little upset but said nothing more as she took the chair next to him. She frowned at the papers he worked on, not recognizing the subject “What is that?”

He was quick to cover the pages with his arms, gathering all of it so he could put it away in his bag. He muttered a Nothing, getting to his feet, Pansy following close “We’re going to the three Broomsticks“ she said “You want to come with us?”

“I have homework to do” he answered coldly, and she sighed knowing it was lie. They all had finished their homework the day before so they could go out without any worry.

Pansy glanced at him, a smirk tugging to her lips as she leaned into his ear “I heard certain Ravenclaw girl would be there” she whispered, making him stop leaving him a few steps behind her.

“What?” he asked, glaring at his friend when her smirk widened “You’re mental.” he established resuming his walk. She catched up with him, holding his wrist so he would turn and face her.

“I didn’t say who,” she said triumphantly “and you didn’t deny it.” he scoffed moving his eyes away from her, crossing his arms over his chest “Oh, c’mon Draco. We all saw it, you’re not as discrete as you think”

If only you knew, he thought. With a shake of his head he turned to their common room muttering the password and stepping inside. “Leave it, Pansy.” he asked in defeat “This has nothing to do with her, she’s just a problem I’ll have to deal with”

Pansy Parkinson made her fame around being a gossiper, annoying, nosey and manipulative. But she treasure her friends . She knew they all had their boundaries and problems of their own. She knew when to step back.

One of her hands came to his shoulder, giving it a squeeze “We’ll be at the three broomsticks for a while.” she said as an invitation, her hand fell and she left him be.

Draco sighed, running a hand through his hair he looked at his reflection in one vase over the table, he was thinner and looked untidy. He hated looking as he felt. But right now wasn’t time for looks, he had a job to do.

He changed into a more comfortable choice of clothes, making his way to the Room of Requirement. He paced outside the wall a few times before the door appeared before him.

“In the name of Rowena Ravenclaw!” he heard you yell as soon as he crossed the door, closing it slowly behind him “Are you following me?” you asked shutting your book with such a force a thin coat of dust flew from it.

He stood there in shock, that wasn’t the room of requirement. It was a library, but a more comfortable one. Soft couches were lined alongside the bookshelves full of every book you would want to read, the floor was scattered with rugs and cushions, many of them accomodated in a makeshift bed where you had been reading previous his arrival.

“What?” he whispered, looking at you for answers. But you were having no more of it. You jumped to your feet and stormed to his side “Y/N…”

“No” you said pointing a finger at him “Don’t Y/N me” you shut him, and he stood there listening to your every word “You know how much I have suffered because you told me to stay away from you? I don’t even know why I listened to you, but I was terrified. You are intimidating, did you you knew that?”

“Terrified?” he gasped. Never would he have thought that you would use that word to describe him but here you were, ranting on and on about how scared you were, tripping over your own feet as you unconsciously took a few steps back.

You stopped all the gibberish pouring out of your mouth at his question, your eyes were wide but something told you that he was hurt by your words. Your eyes stole glance at his left forearm, quickly realizing your mistake as his own eyes followed your movement.

“You saw it?” he asked, moving a hand to his forearm, running his thumb softly over his sleeve.

You nodded, still shaky that after all your attempts at hiding from him he managed to find you. “I haven’t told anyone” you practically yelled and he now understood your fear towards him.

You knew he was a Death Eater.

“It’s alright” he whispered “I know you haven’t”

You let a breath out, fidgeting with your hands “Look, I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m worried about you.” you admitted, a blush creeping over your face “No one deserves to be alone” you muttered, not daring to look up in fear you just made a fool out of yourself in front of the person you were scared of not more than an hour ago.

But when he did not answer the curiosity killed you and you rose your head. His eyes glistened and he had a soft smile on his lips, he looked sad and vulnerable. You couldn’t resist and took the short steps separating the two of you. You engulfed him in a tight embrace, resting your head in his chest as you waited for his body to relax. Just when you thought about letting go of him, he let out a shaky laugh and wrapped his arms around you with the same intensity you did.

You stayed like that for a short while, him pulling you away and looking down at you “Does that mean you didn’t see me cry?” he asked.

You laughed loudly, a look of adoration in his face as your laugh died down “Oh, I did” you said with a chuckle “I just played dumb”

#Draco Malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy x reader #hp fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #pansy parkinson #blaise zabini #luna lovegood #ravenclaw reader #draco x ravenclaw!reader #ginny weasley #neville longbottom #Harry Potter #first fic

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ejlovespie · 3 years

Text

You Give Me Strength

Fandom: Supernatural

Author: EJ (@ejlovespie)

Summary: A hunt gone wrong puts Dean and the reader in danger. When the reader gets severely injured, Dean is there to help her recover. (angst & fluff)

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 1860

Warnings: Angst/Cursing/Torture/Near Death Experience

Reader’s Request: Can I pleaaase request a dean x reader angst/fluff/near death one shot where the reader and dean gets captured by vampires or demons during a hunt gone wrong and the reader keeps talking back to them to piss them off so she can distract them from hurting dean which results in her getting beaten up in front of him and severely injured while he gets all protective and worried.

A/N: This was my first reader’s request and I am stoked about it! Thank you Anon! This was so much fun to write so I hope you like it! Any feedback is greatly appreciated and any mistakes are mine. Thank you for reading! :)

As far as you could tell, you were in the basement of an abandoned building. The smell of mildew filled your nose and occasionally you would see something skitter across the grimy floor. Gross. About a yard away, there was a crack in the ceiling that was slowly dripping water into a little puddle. The drip drip sound was driving you crazy so you re-directed your attention to the room around you. The only light came from a few candles on a table where a knife and a bowl sat. You and Dean were both handcuffed to beams in the middle of the room, far enough a part where you couldn’t reach each other. You were also too far away from the table or anything else that you could grab to use as a weapon. You sighed. This was supposed to be a routine hunt; nothing that you and Dean couldn’t handle. Unfortunately, the demons you had been tracking had got the drop on you. One minute you were both walking down the street and the next, you felt a pinch on your neck and you had lost consciousness within minutes.

Dean still hadn’t woken from being drugged. You had called his name a few times, trying to wake him but he didn’t stir, just continued to breathe in and out in a steady rhythm. You sat there for what felt like hours before the sound of a door slamming behind you made you jump. You heard footsteps as someone walked into the room and you tried squinting into the dark to see. After a moment, a man walked over to Dean’s slumped form. You yelled at him when his foot came out and he kicked Dean’s leg. Ignoring you, he bent over and stuck a needle into Dean’s neck. You cursed and yelled again but were cut off when Dean suddenly startled awake. He sat up in a panic, his eyes wild and angry, and growled when he saw you. The man had walked over to the table in the center of the room and was picking up the knife. Shit. You could his eyes now; they were pitch black. Demon. You tugged at your handcuffs again, trying to figure out a way out of this situation.

The demon noticed you struggling and laughed as he walked over to Dean, who was glaring at him. His black eyes turned to you and he smiled before he took the knife and slowly started to dig it into Dean’s collarbone. You screamed as Dean groaned in pain and the demon laughed. In this situation, you had no way to help Dean except to distract the threat. You had to make him focus on you instead. You didn’t think before you started cursing and yelling at him, trying to goad him into walking away from Dean.

“Hey! Leave him alone you black eyed bastard!”

The demon ignored you and you started to panic when he brought the knife up to Dean’s face. You kept yelling, more desperate now.

“Why don’t you bring that over here bitch! Better yet, how about you let me out of these cuffs so I can kick your ass?”

The demon straightened and turned to face you, a huge, evil smile on his face. He sauntered toward you as Dean hollered at him to leave you alone. Hearing the worry in Dean’s voice, you sent him an apology in your mind. You gritted your teeth and braced yourself when the demon crouched in front of you. You watched as he blinked and blue eyes looked you over. You weren’t expecting the soft touch of his hand on your cheek. You flinched and turned your head away from him as he laughed again.

“Well, aren’t you a feisty thing. You can’t be patient and wait your turn? That’s fine. I will just torture you and let your boytoy over there watch.”

You heard Dean yelling again as the demon smiled and brought the hand on your cheek down to your chin. His thumb rubbed at your dry lips for a moment before he leaned toward you, close enough to kiss you. You reacted. In a sharp movement, you crashed your forehead to his, and kicked out with your legs. You were hoping he would drop the knife and you could grab it or kick it to Dean somehow but the demon just reared back and slapped you hard across the face. Your cheek burned and you were seeing stars but a laugh tore from your throat. The surprised look on his face made you laugh even harder. You stopped laughing when the demon’s eyes turned black and fury contorted his face. He snarled at you,

“You’re going to pay for that you little bitch.”

In a rage, the demon slapped you across the face again and then stood and kicked you hard in the ribs. You cried out in pain as he continued to kick you three more times. On the third blow you felt a rib crack. You could hear Dean screaming and fighting against his restraints. You also heard the drip drip, dripping from the ceiling. You tried to keep your breathing even and deep but you were struggling to breathe through the pain from your rib. The demon crouched back down at eye level with you. Looking back at him, you smiled and taunted him further.

"You hit like a bitch."

Once again, the demon slapped you across the face so hard that your lip split. You could feel the blood trickle down your chin. The demon pulled the knife out and held it in front of you to see. With a taunting expression he said,

"You should have kept your mouth shut. Now, I'm going to have fun carving you up real slow before I cut your throat and bleed you like a pig."

Drip Drip

He plunged the knife into your leg and you screamed in pain. With a twisted smile, the demon pulled the blade out of your leg, causing you to scream again. He repeated the move with your other leg. The pain was making you dizzy and you tried to focus and stay conscious. You heard Dean now begging the demon to leave you alone and it broke your heart to hear it. Be strong Dean, you thought to yourself.

Drip

Looking down, you saw blood everywhere but it didn't look like the demon had severed an artery. You gritted your teeth and focused on his face, internally chanting to yourself to not pass out. He smiled at you again before bringing the knife close to your throat. The knife tip touched your skin and the demon made a shallow cut across it. You weren't sure if it was the blood loss or if you were going into shock but you didn't feel pain. You just felt the blood running down your neck and over your chest. You heard a loud crash behind you accompanied by a new voice. Sam? Your vision was starting to blur, blackness creeping in the corners of your vision. You tried to turn your head, to see what was happening but you couldn’t focus anymore. You heard gunshots and the sounds of a fight going on behind you when suddenly everything was quiet and Dean was by your side. He was taking your handcuffs off and telling you to hold on, to stay with him. He was gingerly lifting you into his arms. You tried to stay awake; to tell Dean that you were sorry but darkness pulled you under.

When you woke, you were lying in a hospital bed. Your head was fuzzy and every part of your body felt numb. You squinted at the window where bright sunlight shone through. Dean was sitting there under the window, sleeping with his head on his arms. His large, calloused hand resting on yours on the bed. You weren’t sure how long you lay there, watching him sleep, but eventually you joined him, drifting off peacefully.

You were only in the hospital for a few days. Although you had lost a lot of blood, you didn’t have any permanent damage. You had a cracked rib, possible nerve damage in your legs, and some scarring on your throat. The doctor said you were lucky; you could have bled out and died if you hadn’t made it to the hospital as fast as you did. You were finally home, back in the bunker, and lying in your own bed. Dean had been mad for the first few days, telling you off for what you did and threatening you if you ever pulled a stunt like that again. You had just smiled sweetly and batting your eyes said,

“I couldn’t let him touch your pretty face Dean. That would be a crime against humanity and women everywhere would have mourned the loss.”

Neither he nor Sam found that as funny as you did. Regardless, Dean’s anger had faded and now he was constantly fussing over you. He hadn’t left your side since the hospital. He had carried you, helped you bathe, wrapped your ribs, and changed your bandages on your legs and neck. He sat with you in bed all day, everyday, watching movies, reading, and playing cards. He was so focused on you and your comfort that you had started to worry about him. You told him you would be fine on your own but Dean had refused to leave; he insisted on taking care of you. It was sweet. This big man, a badass hunter, being so gentle with you made your insides all warm and gooey.

You were both lying in bed now and the wounds on your legs itched like crazy. In the healing process they had started to scab over and no lotion or creams helped. Scratching at your bandages, Dean scolded you before gently grabbing your wrists to keep you from scratching. You groaned in response and he chuckled. Your wrists were still in his hands and he brought them to his lips. Placing kisses on your knuckles, he said,

“You know you can’t scratch at them baby...Maybe I could distract you though.”

You giggled when he leaned into your neck and kissed you, the contrast of his scruffy face and soft lips giving you goosebumps. Dean kissed your neck before moving on to kiss your chin and then placed a longer, warm kiss on your lips. Kissing him back, you sighed feeling happy and content. After a few minutes, he pulled away from you and grabbed your hand. With a serious look, he turned to face you and asked,

“Promise me you won't do that again. Never put yourself in harm's way to protect me. I...I can’t lose you Y/N. I love you.”

His words tugged at your heart but you argued, “I can’t promise that Dean. I will always fight for you. The way I feel..I don’t know. It’s like you give me strength. I would do anything to protect you.”

Dean placed a soft kiss on your temple before murmuring, “Then I will just have to keep you here where we’re both safe.”

Dean Tags:

@akshi8278

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #supernatural #supernatural angst #supernatural fluff #spn #spn fanfiction #spn requests #spn angst #spn fluff

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