#i wonder if fatals gonna get his arm back
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if i had a nickel for every arm lost in this episode….
#i’d have two nickels#underverse#underverse 0.7 part 2#fatal error#fatal error sans#cross sans#i wonder if fatals gonna get his arm back#error is safe for now
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saying “goodnight,” to gojo is one of the worst things you could ever tell him.
some may ask why . . it’s a simple word, a sweet farewell of good dreams if you will. but in this case, perhaps not. just a simple word, a simple word that always knew how to bring the strongest to complete tears.
“goodnight, ‘toru.” you’d murmur, swiftly running your hands through his white tangled strands. he was struggling to keep his eyes open. the calmness of your voice soothed him. cerulean irises stared right back into you before he lets off a soft sigh. his face was so relaxed, he stares into your eyes with his own becoming a bit droopy.
“goodnight,” he’d utter before his eyes briefly closes. “i love you.”
is what you thought he’d say in a moment like this. but even sometimes, reality can be faux. life’s pretty funny, isn’t it.
gojo didn’t like the word ‘goodbye’ simply because it brought back too many hard memories.
he wasn’t one to really explain why, he was more resvered sometimes than anything. he was often too embarrassed to get things off his chest. especially things like this, you did always wonder why though. how sometimes you’d kiss him on the cheek, reaching for the light before uttering off those fatal words of, “goodnight, satoru.”
despite everything though, he always gives you a soft kiss on the lips, murmuring, “sleep well, angel,” instead of goodnight. he’d hold you in his arms, stroking you gently until you fell fast asleep into his arms, where you always belonged.
why was goodnight such an avoidance to gojo’s vocabulary. it was simple, really. a bad experience, a very bad experience actually.
“i don’t like seeing you cry like that,” he’d grumble in a merely defeated voice. he sounded so different, so tired, so … weak. gojo’s voice, it was once so full of life and oh so effervescent. and now, it sounded like he was clinging onto his last and final conclusive breaths—in which he was. “hey, hey. look at me.”
you’d sniffle, glancing at gojo. your eyes were merely blind with your own pathetic tears, everything you saw through your own lens of eyesight was straight blurry. that dumb dorky smile remained plastered on his face despite the circumstances.
the circumstances, gojo satoru had been finally defeated. the strongest, considered as once the strongest, was now lying in your arms, squeezing your wrist as if it’d be the last time he’d touch you. and it would be.
“don’t cry for me. you’re gonna make me cry, silly,” he whispers in a jesting tone, brushing a thumb against the outer part of your hand. you always loved his touch, there was nothing like it. gojo actually for once seemed scared, he was always so good at concealing his emotions—but with you, that was an entire different story.
you could hear the tremble in his voice, his time was rapidly running out, and he just wanted to reassure you, even though perhaps you should have been reassuring him.
“s-satoru,” you’d reply in a shaky voice, you felt an abrupt sharp sting prod through your heart.
you didn’t expect to come to contact with the feeling of heartbreak so soon, but it hit you like a truck. you hated feeling powerless, you couldn’t do anything but just sit here and . . hold his hand.
one … last … time.
“you’ll be okay,” he murmurs, and he lifts up your hand, struggling at first. you’re kneeled down beside him as he lies on the floor. a pool of his own defeat starting to fill from underneath him before he kisses the palm of your hand. “i… i want you to promise me something though. can you do that, angel?”
“y-yes,” you immediately reply, your grip on his hand only growing tighter. suddenly, the air felt so thick and warm—everything felt so out of place. your ears, both of them rang and rang. there was a sting in your heart and it refused to go away. you were experiencing heartbreak at its finest, in slow slow waves.
gojo inhales, and you watch as his pretty lashes flutter at least twice before he says in the most broken, defeated voice you’ve ever heard.
“promise me,” he starts, and you watched as a tear ran down the corner of his eye. even he knew what his fate was coming to, everything was catching up to him and you were sharing the exact dreading emotion. gojo’s eyes flicker up towards you before he sniffles. “promise me, promise me that you’ll be here when i wake up?”
silence—pure silence was your reply, you didn’t know what to say.
but that pure silence only lasted for about three seconds before you nodded, feeling your own tears start to trickle out the crevices of your eyes. “i promise, i’ll be here, i’m always here, ‘toru,” and with a sob nearly escaping your lips, you whimper out a, “i love you.”
“i love you,” he replies with a cheeky grin, and by now he’s really clinging onto his final breaths.
all gojo could focus on was your face, the tears that swelled up through your eyes. he hated seeing you cry, he truly loathed it. with your fingers interlocked with his, gojo says in a soft broken tone, “goodnight, baby.”
“… goodnight, ‘toru.”
but instead of waking up next to gojo like promised, you woke up alone with his side of the bed empty. then reality hit you, he was already gone.
#★vegasbaby.#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jjk angst#gojo angst#gojo x you#satoru gojo x reader#gojou satoru x reader#jjk drabbles#jjk fic
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Just Another Notch
Masterlist Part 2/??
Bucky Barnes x Plus Size F!Reader
Summary: If Bucky thinks his charms will work on you, then you’re gonna put up one hell of a fight to prove him wrong.
Word Count: 1,711
Warnings: None, but will contain explicit content 18+, in future chapters, read at your own discretion.
Your alarm didn’t wake you, it was a loud knocking at your door. You jump up, tapping your phone screen to see that it was only 6am. Now you’re gonna be groggy all morning, your alarm was set for 6:45. You trudge to your door, ready to rip down whoever it was that woke you up. When you open the door you see Bucky with bright eyes, two coffees in hand. You quickly read the label and see that it’s your favorite cafe in Brooklyn. How did he get coffee from there this early?
“Good morning.” He chirps out, reaching one of the paper cups forward. You cross your arms in front of you, refusing the coffee. “How can I help you?” You say curtly. You take in his attire, he was ready for training. You could almost laugh, him and Steve take their sponsorships too seriously, can’t be seen exercising in anything other than Under Armor.
“I still felt bad about last night and thought, maybe I could repay you by helping you get a head start today.” The smirk on his lips did nothing to ease your agitated mood. “I said we’re even, it’s fine.” You say, wondering if he was being genuine. It was far too early for all of this. You rub your sleep filled eyes, pushing your hair behind your ears. “Anything else?” You say, wanting to get some more sleep before the day of literal hell you were about to endure. Physically, you were the apex, but mentally and strategically, not so much.
You couldn’t wield a gun, you’d been studying a makeshift dictionary of all the military terms Steve and Bucky say during missions. You couldn’t take directions. Besides overpowering the strongest guy in Kansas during a championship, you’d never learned how to combat fight. You have no clue where to hit someone or how hard so you don’t do fatal damage. You were written up on your first mission.
Your adrenaline was pumping and you thought the gunman was bigger than what he was, causing you to dent his chest in, instantly killing him. The punch was meant to lay him out, not kill him. You’d been reminded time and time again during initial training that the goal was to subdue, shield rehabilitates these criminals.
So now training was mainly a mental game for you. Sizing people up, you were no use against magicians or witches but physically, you worked hard to discern people’s capabilities. You’d never trained with Bucky or Steve before. You’d never fought against a super soldier, you couldn’t even imagine their strength. Therefore, you’d never opted to train with them.
“No, I’m sorry for waking you.” He says, his eyes tell a completely different story. But you hear some sincerity in his voice. Maybe you were being too harsh to him. He really hadn’t done anything wrong, yet. You were the one who assumed he was drunk, you were the one who enjoyed him innocently helping you clean his mess. If you put aside all your wild ideas, Bucky had actually been very nice to you.
While no one had made any progress in talking to you or really even introducing themselves, Bucky was willing to sit with you and enjoy a bowl of cereal, alone. No other outside force willing him to be there. He’d apologized after spilling milk on you, helped clean it. He wasn’t even looking, and you were speed walking behind him, what if it truly was just an accident. Here you were being rude to the only person who’s shown you kindness.
You wanted to hit yourself. Mentally you were painting your back porch red. Guilt was slowly filling you as you watch him drop his head, nodding as if he’s finally realizing the situation, you wanted him to leave. But not anymore, “Let me get dressed, 5 minutes!” You wait for him to look up at you before you close the door in his face, you could see his smile return, but this time it looked triumphant and genuine.
You want to play this game with him, you knew that much. So why not make a big move and wear your new sports bra set with matching spandex shorts. You’d never worn just a sports bra, and always wore leggings. Your best friend convinced you that you looked good in it, so Nike gladly took your money. This would surely prove your suspicion, were his intentions innocent?
You looked in the mirror, pushing and pulling at your breast in the tight spandex. Your cleavage had to be perfect for this to work. You rolled down the waistband of the shorts, letting it show off your curves. You run to the bathroom to do your morning routine. Walking out of your door in less than the 5 minutes you estimated. You had no idea why you had such a pep in your step. As if you were rushing back to him.
“Thanks.” You say taking the coffee from his hands. He stands there frozen as you turn for the elevator, he watches your ponytail sway across your shoulders, then he lets his eyes travel down, to see your back dimples on display. This one he would fight for, his improvised plan didn’t work last night, he’ll admit his ego was hurt a little by his advances not working. So he gave you another chance with coffee this morning.
It almost didn’t work, he was showing real sadness when you rejected him again, but out of self pity, not because you were being rude. But it worked, and you folded. Judging by the way you’re dressed, he knew you were playing along with him. He would win in the end, he always does. Besides, you’d be an adversary opponent and the best prize.
You wish you could’ve told him black coffee wasn’t really your style, but you had too much pride, sipping it empty on the way down to the training floor. Bucky would probably go left to the gym, and you’ll go right, to the simulation room. It was handy for someone like you. Training with real people was a liability, so holograms it was. “See you later.” You nod to him.
“Where you going? I thought we were training together.” He sounds disappointed. “Oh you meant like the two of us? I thought it was a wake up call, not an invite.” You scratch the back of your neck, kind of embarrassed. “I figured you could use the change of scenery.” He laughs.
You follow him into the gym, a place you’d only been once, during the orientation tour. It was huge, needing the capacity to handle super hero’s being thrown around. Bucky walks over to a bench, setting down his coffee cup and shedding his windbreaker jacket. You toss your empty cup in the trash can beside the door, slowly walking up to him. “So what did you have in mind?” You ask, nervous as to what exactly you had gotten yourself into.
“First some basic warm up drills, then I figured I could help you with that strength depth perception.” He grabs two jump ropes from the wall and tosses one your way. “Fury was worried about you at the last meeting.” You roll your eyes, of course he was.
“I didn’t know you discussed me at meetings.” You say, starting to jump rope. He joins you a second later, going miles faster than you. “We discuss everything, especially things that could be a liability.”. He wasn’t wrong, it rubbed you wrong that you couldn’t defend yourself at these meetings. But you understood why they did it, you killed a man.
“Right.” You huff out, stopping and dropping the jump rope, you had no endurance. Bucky continues for another minute, the rope turning into a blur as it whizzed around him. You ran the track around the perimeter of the gym, till you legs felt like jelly. Again, Bucky kept going, literally running laps around you.
When he came to a jog in place in front of you, you took in the fact that no sweat had formed on his brow, meanwhile you left a puddle in the floor when you stood up. “Okay, let’s start with defense.” He brings his fist to face level and you match his stance. “We both know you have offense covered. But what about protecting yourself. Other people are strong too.” He made a good point.
You had beginners luck, dodging the first punch Bucky threw at your stomach.
The second, not so much. You suck in a breath when his metal fist makes contact with your rib. “You’re supposed to block!” He sounds upset, like was the one who just got hurt. “Yeah I got that.” You wheeze out, dropping to your knees, clutching your stomach.
Just as you’ve almost composed yourself the door to the gym swings open. “Are you ready for complete destruction, son?” It’s Steve walking in, but his face immediately drops when he sees you. “Excuse me.” He’s obviously embarrassed. You just look at Bucky and try to hold in a laugh. “Seriously?” You whisper, his cheeks are red but he nods.
“I’ll take that as my cue.” You say, waddling over to the vending machine in the corner. The blue on the Aquafina label reflected in your eye. You’re gonna die if you don’t get a drink. You tap your Apple Watch to the card reader, typing in A5, as you watch your water bottle be mechanically maneuvered around through a glass window you hear whispering. “She needs a snack already?”
You don’t know who said it, just that someone did, you didn’t turn around. Preferring to pretend it didn’t happen, you grab the water from the machine, drinking the whole thing in a couple chugs. You smash it between your hands, completely flattening it to the width of paper. It was loud, the cracking of the plastic, it silenced their hushed words. As you toss it into the trash can beside the door, you turn around and address both men.
“Thirst and hunger are two different things, wouldn’t you say?” And you leave, pushing past Natasha in the hallway as you make your way to the simulation room.
Taglist: @cjand10 @winterslove1917 @honestlywork @calwitch
#avengers fanfiction#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky x reader#avengers#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky x y/n#fanfiction#fanfic#mcu#james bucky barnes#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x plus size reader#dark bucky barnes#dark bucky x reader
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Playing Dangerously
Paring: fem!reader × Natasha x Bucky
Warnings: SMUT, threesome, Dom!Nat, SwitchBucky, sub!reader, mommy kink, daddy kink, dumbification, oral, teasing, slight alcohol consumption, fingering, pet names,
A/N: I’m not really a shipper of this but friends with benefits Winterwidow is so hot. @syndote this one is for you.
!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional!
Masterlist
Don't get me wrong being with THE black widow was something many could only ever dream about but I had to admit that sometimes I felt like I never really got the chance to try different things. From the Red Room to S.H.I.E.L.D and directly into the red heads arms left little to no space for explorations of my sexuality. Sex with Nat was great and always left me satisfied but I couldn't help to wonder about the forbidden fruit, but mentioning this to Nat could lead to a hefty argument which I didn't want to risk; after all she was all a girl like me could want right?
"Bucky will join us for the mission" I turned away from the laptop screen I was watching an episode of modern family on (after spending so much time in russia I was dying to know what the American dream was like), I hadn't heard Natasha approach, spy I had to remind myself. "I thought this was gonna be a me and you thing" She chuckled leaning over the chair, swiping my hair over my shoulder, and letting her precisely painted lips meet the soft skin of my neck. "You know I only ever have eyes for you my little bunny"
I hummed as her sweetened words hit my ears, and made tingles run down my spine "I know Tasha" I sighed standing up but making the fatal mistake of leaving my laptop open. "I'll just be on the toilet alright?" Natasha hummed deciding to press play again as suddenly there popped up a message from I was way.
Katja: You should really try to communicate this with your girlfriend before this ruins your relationship.
Natasha couldn't believe her eyes but curiosity got the better of her and she opens the message; I had told her all about how I waned to experience sexual things with a man but how unwilling I was to cheat on her. She quickly closed the tab again pretending like she didn't have her master plan planned out already.
The mission was easy inflate a party, steal some hard drive and go back to the hotel. Even though you were there with your girlfriend the thoughts of trying it out with a man couldn't leave your head. Not that I was interested in having an affair of leaving Nat you just wanted her to have this with you. And the fact that out of all people Bucky had been assigned to you two didn’t make it better. I had long expected the two to had have something going on in the past but never had the courage to ask either. The mission went by quick and you soon found yourself sitting at a hotel bar celebrating our success mission.
***
"I'll have a martin" "A beer for me" The bartender looked at me with expecting eyes "A beer for me too." Sitting between the two I almost felt sandwiched even though there was still space between our bodies. Natasha slipped quietly on her martin while my bottle was still untouched by me I couldn't tear my mind away from the two assassins next to me. "You're awfully quiet Y/N" I heard the deep voice of the Winter Soldier. I opened my mouth before closing it again there were so many words in my heart but so little on my tongue. “You’re normally so filled with life”
I felt Natasha's watchful eyes on my smaller form and suddenly I felt awfully naked in my cocktail dress. "James" her voice was sweet like honey. "Do you remember the last time we were sitting here?" I could practically hear the smirk in her voice "How could I forget that night" He took another slip of his beer bottle. "Are you down for a second time with our little guest" I couldn’t believe my ears was this a lucky guess or did Nat suddenly become a mind reader. I looked down peeling away at the label of the bottle as my cheeks continued to heat up. "I see" he took another close look at me, seizing me up. "I'm down if she is" There were a few seconds of silence with two awaiting eyes in my form; if I wanted to try this now would be the time "Of course" I stated in a quiet voice as I met his lust filled gaze, he only nodded before finishing his bottle. "I'll be in my room"
***
"Strip and lay on the bed" I could hear Natasha's cold words as she went to open to open the door letting Bucky, in his blazer and tie missing, the first few buttons of his white shirt unbuttoned revealing some of his chest hair. Just as he kicked the door closed behind him Nat had him already pressed against the wall as they violently made out with each other. Her hands twisted in his white button up shirt pulling herself impossibly closer to the man. The way Natasha was still containing control of the much stronger man was definitely a turn on. (Not that I had expected it any other way)
Even though she was busy with him from the corner of her eyes I could see she watched me on very move. She turned away from him sitting down on the cushion of armchair. "James I want you to eat her out" she pulled out a small metal tin with cigarettes in it, lighting herself one "and don't let her cum" He only nodded having seemingly submitted to the redhead without a fight.
He climbed onto my much smaller frame, his eyes scanning my naked form. There was something about the both of them still fully clothed while I was undressed which made me even wetter. He leaned down to catch my lips and my hands went to his short black hair. His tongue fought it's way inside my mouth our tongues dancing a dangerous dance as one of his rough hands went to my breast. He kissed down my neck his beard stubbles irritating my soft skin.
His chipped lips wrap around one of my nipples and the strong fingers twisted the other. He watched in an awe how my body squirmed under his touch. "Mommy please" I whined out buckling I hips against his hard prick "No sweetie this ain't gonna work" She chuckles blowing out some smoke from her lit cigarette. "Beg Daddy not me, I can't help you little girl" I chocked out another whine as I felt his teeth tugging at my nipple.
The way his mouth wrapped around my tender flesh made want him even more. He liked over my nipple a few more times each time discovering a new sound escaping from my mouth. Eventually he got bold enough to bit down making me cry out in pure lust. “Daddy please” I didn’t know what I was begging for but the pure title made him moan. He switched sides giving my other nipple the same treatment as his fingers brush over the other one.
He kissed his way down your stomach stopping your hips from buckling as her presses his forearm down on your lower stomach. He kissed your public bone taking in the strong smell of my cunt as he groaned. He took his time kissing and nibbling on the soft skin of my hips. My hands go to his short black hair folding with his soft hair (which somehow was even softer than Nats)
After a while he was done with the teasing having had enough and he just wanted to finally get a taste of Nat’s little girl. He took a bold lick over my cunt moaning inside of my heat as I tried to buckle my hips again but you were stopped by his cold metal arm keeping your hips down.
"Daddy please" I whined, having so much control over a sexual partner did something to him. "No more teasing please" I begged. Natasha (who had been watching closely from the corner) made her way over the the bed puffing out a load of smoke "Be a good boy James" He was seemingly torn between the dominance of having me under him begging for his mercy out still being so obedient to the black widow. It was a match made in heaven or in hell so to say.
He continued to eat me like the last supper his tongue pressing on the pulsing nub of nerves. Two of his thick fingers pushed passed my tight hole making my eyes roll into the back of my head in pure pleasure, he bit down on my clit sending shock waves through my body. His fingers twisted and turned to to press against my G- spot. I was so close to stumbling of the edge I got a taste of heaven.
"James stop" I heard her cold voice as he immediately pulled way sitting on his knees and my juices dripping from the concert of his mouth. I whined and cried ash the lost of pleasure my tears smudging down my pink cheeks. "Good boy James" She leaned down to kiss him moaning as she tasted my juices on his lips. She pulled away from him whipping the corners of his mouth with her palm. "Would you look at that you made a mess Ana" She inspected your dripping cunt further running two finger through your cunt making you let out a pathetic whimper. She tasted me letting out an extensive moan "I'm almost jealous James got to taste you bunny"
She whispered something in Bucky's ear and he quietly nods. "Get on all fours Y/N" he rasped in your ear. You placed yourself on all fours and he positioned himself behind you and you heard the sound of this clothes being torn off. "Are you ready" I nodded, my position was beyond embarrassing ass up in the air having gabbed a pillow to bite on.
He pulled down his shorts and let Natasha touch him how she pleased. Her smaller hands wrapped around his pulsing prick I heard him groan as her hands moved up and down his length. Her movements made him impossibly hard a few droplets of pre cum already leaking.
Bucky positioned himself behind me and he slowly pushed his length in making me scream out at the stretch. He let you adjust before moving at a decent pace I took a look behind me to see Nat guiding his hips only not giving him control of his own pleasure. I lead out a few mewls of pure pleasure. "mommy" my whimpered gripping onto the pillow for dear life "need you”
She let go of his hips leaning up to my ear "Do you need your clit played with" she rubbed circles on my back. Bucky's pace was great for his pleasure but I just needed more so I nodded as more tears made it's way down my cheeks "Can't even cum without mommy's help such a dumb little girl.”
Bucky quickend his pace and so did Nat and I was nearly seeing stars "Cum for me" she announced slapping Bucky's ass as if he was nothing more that a common whore "both". It didn't need more to make both of us cum with im pulling out to paint my back in his milk.
I flipped to my back watching as Natasha and Bucky were caught up in a passionate kiss. His kisses trailed down her neck and chest at the same time pulling her red lace panties down her perfectly shaped legs. He nibbled on her skin paying extra attention to the small scar on her hip.
Natasha laid next to me on her back as I turned to my side stroking a few of her red hair, which were stuck to her sweaty forehead. “Kiss mommy bunny”
I kissed the desperate woman our tongue intertwined. She broke away letting out an almost pornographic moan as Bucky dove in to her wet center.
Our foreheads were seemingly stuck together as were lost in, probably the hottest, make out session I ever had. The air was humid filled with the sounds of Natasha’s wetness and the indecent sounds of our desperate sounds. “Fuck James” she groaned on my lips her hands twisted in my dark blonde locks. “Make Mommy cum” He kept his pace up flickering her clit with his tongue while penetrating her with two of his fingers. With a scream she came down from her high releasing over his chin and face.
***
"Thank you" You signed laying between the older Agents "But I think I'll stay with women for now" Natasha chuckled kissing your forehead "I wouldn't have given you free either way" she joked "And I wouldn't risk talking Nat's girl"
:)
Tags:
@terrormonster55 @marvelobsessed134 @crowswolffe
#natasha romanoff imagine#natasha romanoff x reader#black widow x female reader#natasha romanoff smut#natasha romanoff x you#black widow x reader#natasha x reader#natasha x you#natasha romanoff#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky x you#bucky x female reader#bucky smut#winterwidow#natasha romanoff blurb#natasha x bucky#Natasha Romanoff x Bucky x reader
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Hi!! I was wondering if you could write anything else for the steve zombie au with the established relationship! It's seriously so good I can't get enough
hi I hope you don’t mind me using your request for the kidnapping fic! r and steve live inside a community during the apocalypse, and she gets kidnapped :( but he’s not gonna stop til he finds her :) pls forgive typos
steve zombie!au <3 fem!reader. tw abduction, drugging, mentioned SA (reader is NOT sa and there is no graphic imagery), guns, general violence. 8k words
When you get 'home' that evening, arms aching from a full day in the community pantry, there's somebody sitting in your bed.
"Fuck, Stevie," you say with a flinch, hand hitting your chest with an audible thud.
"Sorry!" he apologises immediately, springing up to meet you. He's in pyjamas, a foreign sight, freshly washed up. "I got home early and thought you'd be happy to see me."
You reach for his wrists, relief that he's not a murderer or a zombie dulling the panic. "I am," you assure him softly, "of course I am. I missed you."
He smiles and moves in for a hug, kissing your cheek quickly. "I missed you too."
Missed isn't truly the right word. Steve goes out on scouting and scrounging missions for the community voluntarily, and every time he leaves you worry he's going to die, because it is a very likely outcome. There hasn't been a community fatality in weeks, but that doesn't help soothe the ache of his absence.
"You smell really nice. Did you get a hot shower?"
"Perks," he says, faking modesty.
"Perks," you grumble. "I spent the whole day lifting canned tuna and I don't get a hot shower."
His smile doubles in size. "No? Well then, it's a good thing you have such a nice boyfriend," —he digs in his pocket, unveiling a green plastic shower token with a smirk— "huh?"
"Is that for me?" you ask, grumbling completely gone.
"If you want it. There's a catch, though."
"What's the catch?"
You can both hear how in love you sound. In a world where hot showers are rare and valuable as diamond, his giving you a shower token may as well be an "I love you'. It's selfless.
"Kiss before you go?" he asks.
"That's not a catch," you say, taking his face into your hands. His cheeks are soft, stubble shaved away.
You rub his bottom lip with your thumb. "Get into any danger?"
"None. Not a geek in sight."
"Good boy," you say, thumbs either side of his lips now, leaning in for a perfect, prim kiss.
You move back and rake the hair away from his face, upward, and for a moment he looks as he did before again. His hair falls back down and he's still beautiful, the guy you love.
"Are you sure I can have it?"
"I got it for you," he says, "but if you really don't want it-"
"No, I want it," you deny quickly, eyes narrowed at his nearly ditzy smile. He can be so evil.
Steve climbs into your bed, a myriad of blankets and quilts and sheets, anything to stay warm. Honestly, you and Steve are pack rats now you have a place to keep your things, and you love to be comfortable together. That means soft things and nice smells are a must.
You turn to your bathroom hamper and pick up one of your two shower gels, a silver of soap, and the brand new bottle of shampoo you'd been given a few days ago. It's your prized possession.
"Don't take that soap," Steve says, "there's a new bar by the sink, take that one."
"We really shouldn't waste it."
"We won't."
You shake your head at him fondly. "It's fine, I'll use it. Keep the new one for cold, sad showers."
His head sinks back into your pillows, his face turning toward your side. He couldn't be less obvious about it if he tried, pulling your pillow toward him until the pillowcase is rubbing his nose.
You wrap your things in a towel, also nice and soft, and hesitate at the door. Steve's eyes have closed. You know he isn't sleeping, and that if you ask him to, he'll come and sit outside of the shower stall to fend off your paranoia. But you're trying to give life here a chance, a proper one. You have no reason to fear for your safety — the shower block is only five minutes away in the old College's gym.
You put your stuff down at the end of the bed and climb on knees beside him.
"I'm gonna go shower now," you say.
Steve goes to sit up, eyes fluttering open, and you hold him down, peppering his cheek with three, four, five quick kisses. "No, stay. Love you."
“You stay and sleep. I’ll be back soon. So soon.”
"You sure?"
"Yes," you say, smothered against his cheek. You give him another kiss for good measure, a selfish one, as most of them are. You hope he enjoys receiving them as much as you love bestowing them. Your lips practically tingle.
"Okay. Love you. See you in twenty."
"Twenty," you promise.
Another kiss sneaks its way in there before you're grabbing all your stuff; your bathroom necessities, your change of clothes and your room key on a string you hang around your neck. You slip out the door and down the hall of Little Hawkins, stepping over a hallway game of speed played by two opposite tenants you recognise from high school and slinking sideways round one of Mallory's huge art projects propped up against the wall.
It's dark outside. To keep a low profile, the community you live in, sometimes called The College, or some variation of its real name, Valley Pine Community College, opts to keep the lights off at night. There are fairy lights strung up to gently guide anyone who needs to move around, and considering it's not even 7PM yet, there are lots of people outside.
"Hey, kid."
You hug your bundle of things closer. "Hi, Hopper."
Chief Hopper is standing in the middle of the squad with Joyce Byers and Jeremy Livingstone, his second in command and his co-leader, respectively.
"Shower?"
You smile sheepishly. "Steve gave me a token."
"How romantic," Joyce says sweetly.
"He's a secret sweetheart," you mumble.
"Could you tell him to be a little more secretive? He's setting a precedent here," Jeremy says.
The three adults laugh. You nod politely and bid them goodbye with a smile, cutting over the grass of the quad where a path has been worn by shoes just like yours to the gym.
There's usually someone there until 10PM. Everyone needs a shower after a long day, and lukewarm ones are totally free. It's hot water showers that need a token, because they need the generator to run. Jeremy does his best to keep the distribution of tokens fair, but people still use them to barter for other things. You imagine that's how Steve came to have two.
Sure enough, a young woman you think is called Tori sits in a chair by the door to the shower room, foot propped up on another chair and crutches on the floor.
She accepts your token and puts it in a basket with the others, all handmade and flimsy. "You need me to do it?" she asks.
"No, that's okay. Stay sitting." She smiles gratefully.
The shower room is clean and cool. You put down your towel, grinning at the leftmost shower. There you are, you think cheerfully. Then a sound behind you, the soft fall of one step.
You don't remember much after that.
—
Steve falls asleep waiting for you.
He wakes, reaching for your body in bed next to his, expecting an armful of your softness, your tummy or your chest. He opens his bleary eyes in search of you when he comes up empty, mumbling your name in the dark. His arm feels heavy as he lifts it to check the time. 9.44PM. He looks around the entirety of your small room. You're not here.
He bolts up fast, bone deep nausea spreading and pervasive, his neck protesting the sudden movement with a twinge. Thighs swung over the sheets, he stumbles onto discordant footing.
You're not out on the quad, and neither is anyone else. He follows the string lights to the gym and there are no signs of life. He makes it all the way to the shower room before he sees somebody, a girl on crutches hobbling toward him with a flashlight helmet clipped over her forehead.
"Hey," he says, slowing, "have you seen Y/N? She's this tall, wearing a royal blue hoodie? You can't miss her."
She falters. "I- yeah, I saw her. Maybe an hour ago?"
"Is she still here?"
"The building's presumably empty."
Steve skirts around her to look for himself, but she says, "Wait, wait."
She readjusts her grip on her crutches. "I didn't see her leave, but she wasn't in the showers. I checked."
"You didn't see her leave?"
"No, I thought it was weird, but I figured she'd had too long in the hot water and felt guilty about it. I was gonna tell Hopper at the town hall."
The town hall isn't a town hall at all, it's a space cleared in the cafeteria. Hopper lingers there most nights so people can talk to him without feeling pressured by their peers. You and Steve always call it the 'snitching hour', instead of the witching hour.
"You're sure she's not there?"
"I checked every stall."
He doesn't believe her, because if you aren't in the shower, where are you? You haven't made any friends yet, you aren't situated, you have Steve and you have the older lady Mallory, and that's it.
He's not too proud to admit he sprints to the shower room, calling your name and checking behind each stall door, each changing partition curtain. The only thing he finds is a slither of soap, the shard of bar soap he'd told you to throw away, lying on the floor.
You'd insisted you wouldn't waste it.
He picks it up and pockets it, throwing his gaze around the room in another circle to be sure.
You aren't here.
He runs back up the hallways and through the front entrance, where the girl on crutches is hobbling toward the main building that houses the cafeteria. His heart races with a strange adrenaline — he shouldn't panic, right? You could be anywhere, and anywhere doesn't have to mean somewhere unsafe. You could be with Mallory, with Robin. Hell, you could be with Dustin. He's half expecting to find you in the canteen, fresh and smelling sweet, sitting at one of the long dinner tables for club night. You'd said you wanted to learn gin rummy.
You aren't in the cafeteria and neither are the cards club, but Hopper is. He has a paperback in his lap, and a cigarette is held between his lips pointing down, illuminated by a small lamp on the table behind him.
"Woah, where's the fire?"
"Have you seen Y/N?"
Hopper doesn't like his tone, the panic it's laced with. His expression hardens from surprise to concern, paperback closed. "Hours ago. She was on her way to the gym. She didn't come back?"
"No."
"She usually stray?" Hopper asks.
They both know the answer is no. You don't go anywhere that isn't scheduled work or the gym showers without Steve; while your distrust of this place and the people here has waned since you arrived, it's still very much alive.
"Never."
"Don't panic," Hopper says, though he looks a little unsettled himself. He hides it swiftly. "Half the people here are your age, she probably just got to talking."
He stands up, shoving his paperback on top of the fold out chair and zippering his jacket closed.
Steve rubs his mouth, in a daze, searching his thoughts for where you'll be.
"Harrington?"
"What?" Steve asks, looking up.
"You might want to get some warmer pants on. We'll start searching. Door to door. Wake your friends up." Hopper clears his throat. "She's here somewhere."
His confidence eases Steve's roaring pulse. He looks down, finds he's still wearing the polka dot pyjamas he'd fallen asleep in. He'd been too worried about you to notice.
—
You feel majorly unwell. Eyes so sore they beg to stay closed, throat raw like you've been forced to eat sandpaper. Your hand knocks out and hits something solid.
"Stevie," you say. Your voice is patchy, frosted over. "It's freezing. Did you," —you cough as you raise your head from your pillow— "leave a window open, baby?"
A cold gale of wind rushes over you. Goosebumps erupt down the lengths of your naked arms, and your eyes open finally, searching for the cause of the desperate cold.
You fear for a moment you've gone blind.
The sky is dark. A deep, formidable blue with a smattering of stars. Your breath catches as you take them in. They appear by the handful, flecks that well like drops of blood to pinpricks.
You are not in bed.
This is not your room.
"You've been sleeping for hours. You're fucking heavy, did you know that?"
You turn your head slowly, prey and predator, hoping your stillness will deter any sudden movements.
"Where are we?" you ask, trying to get a good look at the body next to you.
You're not sure if it's the right question. He likes it, though, and his hand squeezes yours where your fingers rest, intertwined, against his chest. Sickness wraps around your stomach and wrings it, a strange haziness concluding your thoughts.
"Don't worry about it."
Panic lights every nerve ending and a wretched trembling runs down your arms, your legs. You try to make it stop before he can feel it. You know your fear is a currency.
"Are you cold?" he asks. His voice is neither warm nor frigid, each syllable said with an impassiveness that leaves little to be inferred.
"I don't have my coat." The words don't want to be said.
"We left in a hurry."
"We did?"
Your throat aches. You try to remember why you're here, fingers dead still in his hold. There's something soft behind your head, a throw blanket that scratches your cheek. You don't know who he is. You don't recognise anything about him, moonlight splashing milky light over his face and neck. He has a broad scar under his jaw, but beside that, this man is completely unassuming.
"You don't remember?"
You shake your head. "No," you say softly.
"You fell in the shower. I helped you up. You told me you wanted to leave."
"Leave?" you ask.
"The College."
"I said that?"
"You didn't have to say it. I know you hated it there."
You swallow, uselessly, over and over. The night sky pours Onto you. Your pulse bumps, bumps, bumps.
"Who are you?" you ask.
"You don't know me?"
His fingers tighten around yours.
"I- I'm new," you defend.
"Of course you don't know me. Nobody fucking knows me. I thought shit was bad before all this, you know?" His grip tightens worse. "Invisible at work, at home. And there were so many people, I mean, fucking thousands of people, I was a nobody. I thought maybe now I'd be somebody, but you don't know who I am."
Please, you think, please. What's his name?
"Connor," you say quietly, hoping to pass it off as nothing if you've gotten it wrong.
His grip relaxes ever so slightly. "I knew you were different. You see me, and I see you."
He moves toward you, and he must see you flinch backward into the solid, frozen earth behind your back. His smile flickers. He leans over your face, dark, long hair tickling your cheek.
"I know you hated that place just as much as I did. So we left."
Looking back, you'll wonder why you acted as you did. Acting into his delusion. That night, you wait hours for him to fall asleep. He never does. Each time you try to pull your hand from his, you're met with a fiercely suspicious look. You feign sleep.
The sky slowly lightens. You stand when he stands and you pull your hand from his whether he wants it or not, so cold you feel like you've been burned all over, so tired you're surprised you have the strength to scramble backward.
He turns, and you notice the gun tucked into his waistband for the first time.
"Where are you going?" he asks, hand inching up his leg.
You take a step toward him, wobbly on purpose. "I think I'm stiff from the floor." You smile at him awkwardly.
He sees bashful where he should terrified. "I will miss the mattresses. Don't worry, we'll find you something to lie on." Your skin crawls.
"Where are we going?"
He points southward.
You're no genius, but you assume that means The College is northward.
A bullet can follow you a hundred feet away. Running brazenly won't work. Though you're guessing he'll kill you outright rather than let you escape, which may not be the case. He's running on delusion — he has a saviour complex, clearly, to have stolen you like this. He wants you, and you have to assume he wants you alive.
"Can I have some water?" you ask.
The ache in your throat is a burn. You imagine this is how it feels to have a geek maw deep in your flesh, a sizzling burn, a heated fear.
He digs through his singular rucksack and pulls out a litre bottle of water full to the cap. You take it, guzzle it, and choke when he cusses. "Fuck- Stop! Are you stupid? We have to make it last."
Water dribbles down your chin as he snatches it out of your hand.
"Sorry," you say. It feels as though you've swallowed a stone. "Sorry, I didn't know. I couldn't know, I don't know any of your plans, Connor."
He stuffs the water back into the bag and procures a white length of plastic. It takes you a second to realise it's a zip tie. Much less to feel terror reignite itself in the depths of your stomach.
"Wrists together."
"Connor, I don't think-"
"You're smart, aren't you?"
Quiet stretches. The sun leaks desperately needed warmth through the thick tree branches, sun rays painting his skin blazing white as he rags your wrists together and wraps the zip ties around them. The plastic bites into your skin unapologetically.
"I wanted you to take me," you say. "What's the need?"
He smiles. Teeth white, gums red. Stark.
"You're smart," he repeats. "I'm smarter. Now come on. Walk."
—
Steve doesn't find you.
Hopper gives him invasive free reign over the community like a dirty cop. He tells everybody at breakfast exactly what's happening. He asks if anybody has seen you. He asks if you've made plans to run away. He says that, if you're in hiding, he'll protect you, even if that means protection from Steve.
Steve's not even mad. If you are hiding from him (you're not, of course you're not, but if you are — Steve almost wishes you were, just so he'd know you were safe) you're doing an amazing job. There are no traces of you, and as the hours stretch into a full day without you, Steve's borderline homicidal. He has slammed on every door. He has checked every dormitory room, every public space. He has pulled boards from closed over windows, and kicked in weakened door jams of every building within the fences.
Currently, though, he's having a breakdown. Tears, ugly and messy and loud, race down his face. He's running so hot they practically steam. Robin stands on the other side of the stall. He's really hoping she'll pretend she can't hear him, but she says, "Yikes, Steve."
"Where the fuck is she?" he asks, sounding about as numb as he feels.
"I don't know."
Her response is softer. Robin knows Steve isn't angry at her, and doesn't take his scathing question personally. The fear he's feeling is overwhelming, hence his tears. (The tears are made of worry, too.)
"Somebody-" God, the thought is like white hot heat cattle poked into his spine, anger wells to the surface. "Has her. Somebody's fucking done something to her. She wouldn't just leave."
He stares at the stall door and wills tears away. This isn't helping you.
"Steve," Robin says, "don't bite my head off. What if she did leave?"
It hurts because it's what he's been asking himself. Under the anger and the fear for you, there's fear of you. What if you've abandoned him? Loved him this long to toss in the towel at the finish line?
Still, he defends the you he knows you are. "Fuck off, Buckley. I love you, but fuck you."
"No, listen to me Steve."
"Robin-"
"I believe she wouldn't 'just leave' but that doesn't mean she didn't leave," Robin says in a rush, fighting to be heard. "I know she's- I know you're both in that gross, disgusting, married for sixty years, buried in the same plot, holding hands kind of love-"
"The point?"
"So I'm agreeing with you, asshole. I don't think she'd leave of her own volition, but she's not here."
"What if she is? What if I go look for her and she's here and Barney from the kitchen has her tied up under his mattress?"
"We've looked," Robin says, anger colouring her own tone now. "We've fucking looked, Steve, you and me and Dustin, Mike and Hopper, we've been in every room and hashing this out won't make her magically reappear, we need to go look for her. Maybe she did fucking leave you, and maybe she's lost. Whatever it is, you're gonna kill yourself not looking.
"Time to make a decision," she adds. "The longer we sit here the further away she gets."
Tears burst unbidden in a race to his jawline.
He knows you better than he knows himself. He knows you've loved him for a long time, maybe since the day you met. He's loved you almost as long, and he doesn't care how selfish it sounds when he says he loves you so much more. If the last time you'd spent together is it — sorry, but Steve can't accept it. A slurred out 'Love you' and your kisses warming his cheek. That can't be all there is.
He'd spend the rest of his life looking for you, if only to feel the weight of your body between his legs, your sleeping face tucked under his chest. Your hands, forever cold, chasing the heat of his spine as you slip them under his t-shirt.
Hopper looks reluctant at the suggestion.
"Kid-"
"I'm not really asking. I need permission to get my bat back from the armoury, and food. Or forget the food." Someone knocks into his back and apologises. The cafeteria is teeming with people. Steve doesn't stop to look back to see who it is.
"It's not about supplies. Everybody is accounted for, we checked, do you know what that means? Nobody else is with her." Nobody took her, he implies. She left of her own volition.
"That's exactly why I need to go."
"She took a rucksack with her."
Steve blinks.
"Three litres of water. Enough food for a month, and a pistol."
You're smarter than three litres of water. And—
Steve's heart skips. "She doesn't know how to use a gun."
He knows exactly what's happened to you. Even if everybody else thinks he's crazy, or stupid, or plain naive, he knows you wouldn't take a gun, so somebody else took one, and then they took you. He imagines you with the barrel pressed to your nape and brims with indignation.
Hopper grabs Steve's arm tightly before he can turn away. He likely doesn't want a scene in the cafeteria, not when the arts and crafts club is sitting two tables away, a whole classroom of children with delicate dispositions.
"You're sure you want to go out there and look for her? Kid, nobody saw her leave, there's no signs of struggle. Chances are she left willingly."
"You really believe that? Honestly?"
His expression says everything Steve needs to know. Hopper doesn't believe what he's saying — he's feeding Steve a narrative in the hopes that it'll spare him. His decision is a hard one to make, prioritising the lives of the many over the few, and it's noble, but Steve couldn't care less about the risks.
Hopper realises his plan is not going to work. He roughs up his hair and sighs.
"Can't work a gun?" he asks Steve, nearly defeated.
"She would pick the knife."
"Fine. Better round up anybody stupid enough to go with you."
—
"I think you're handsome," you say.
Connor glares at you. He'd been in the middle of a self-hating rant, how he's ugly and how girls are all shallow. He's not even that ugly, but his expression, so full of hate, makes him monstrous.
"I do," you further.
"Yeah, right."
Your wrists hurt. The zip tie cuts into your skin even in efforts to hold your wrists together. You're raw, almost bleeding. And you're so fucking cold; this guy's an idiot, and you're gonna die of hypothermia if you can't charm him into giving you his coat.
Your plan is awful and it likely won't work. You're trying to seduce him so you can take his gun, and hope you don't have to actually fire it. You've never killed somebody before, but you're willing to do what you need to if it means you'll survive. Your thoughts won't stop spiralling about Steve. He loves you. He's looking for you. If he never finds you, his life will be more ruined than it is already, and you'd never forgive yourself for that. You care about him too much to want to put him through the guilt of losing you. How he'd been looking for Robin, you don't want him to be that version of himself again. Closed off to everything, and everyone.
Under all that you're still hoping he's going to save you. You're gonna hear him calling. You hope — you know — Steve won't think you've left. While you haven't been quiet about your doubts living in The College, you wouldn't leave without him. Steve is the safest place in the world.
"Connor," you say, eyes on his face and unflinching, determined to lie well, "are you kidding? Out of everyone, I only showed you how I was feeling. Why do you think that is?"
He stares at you.
You make a show of shivering. It isn't difficult.
"You're the kindest person there, I know that," you say. "Nobody else would risk what you are to help me escape. Nobody, not even-" You wince. "Not even Steve."
"Ugh, don't talk about him," Connor says. "You won't ever have to see that mindless idiot again."
"You promise?"
He stops walking. "You don't want to see him?"
"No," you lie. "I- look, Connor, I know it's not something to be proud of, and I'm not proud of it, but I knew he could take care of me, you know? We were all alone, and I just needed someone to look after me. I was so scared. And I felt like I owed him."
"You could've left him the moment you got to The College."
You put on a sad little smile. I'm sorry, you think desperately. I'm sorry, Steve.
"He wouldn't let me."
Quiet prevails again, the only sounds the wind and your shoes over brittle foliage.
"I wanted to talk to you, and I think he could tell. He'd always pull me away when we s-s-saw you."
His eyebrows furrow gently, a softness on his face that might seem genuine if there were any light behind his eyes. Connor peels off his jacket and tries to help you into it.
"My wrists."
"Right," he says.
He pulls out a penknife. You know what to do, planning how you'll enact your next move in your head as he cuts you loose and helps your numb arms and fingers into the sleeves. He zips you up. You try not to breathe.
He takes a half step back, and his breath turns to a grunt, hands cruel at your wrists when you throw yourself at him. "What the fuck are you doing?"
"Trying to hug you…" You say, heart a hummingbird in your chest. "I'm sorry, I just- I just wanted to say thank you."
"You want to say thank you?" he asks,
You regret it. You've already decided, as horrible as it is, that if he tries to hurt you or force you to do anything intimate with him, you're going to run, gun or no gun. This decision changes every other second. Better to let him hurt you like that and live, or better to die?
"Yes," you say breathlessly. "I want to say thank you."
"There's a cabin not far from here. That's where we're going. I've been getting it ready for us. You can show me how grateful you are when we get there, so pick up the pace."
"A cabin?" you ask, tripping over your untied laces in your hurry to do as he says.
"I've been getting it ready for weeks," he says. "Sneaking back and forth hasn't been easy, you know? Fucking migraine."
Sneaking back and forth.
Who is he? Sneaking? Why would he need to? Who the fuck is he? You know of him as you know most people, and you'd been lucky to remember his name. If he hadn't gone on supply and scrounging trips with Steve, you wouldn't have.
A memory.
He'd been with Steve.
Two weeks ago, Steve had come home depressed. Deflated, he'd encouraged you down into bed and laid out on top of you, frown pressed to your collar. You'd drawn a confession from him in ribbons, one hand rubbing his back until the tension he'd carried slipped away, the other resting at the back of his head. He'd been on a scouting trip, and he'd lost his partner. No sign of him, no signs of a geek death, nothing. He'd disappeared.
That had been Connor, and everybody thinks he's dead.
If they believe you left, they believe it was by yourself. You have to hope Steve believes you'd never go without him.
If he doesn't, you are completely alone.
—
Robin ties her shoe laces tightly. They're new, and they're startlingly white. Nothing ever looks so white these days. Bleach is a resource they can't make, and it gets hoarded by the medical team whenever they find any. Clothes here aren't dirty, but they'll never be pristine.
She puts her foot back on to the floor next to Steve's back, where he poked around under her bed for useful things to take. Her torch, her batteries, her rucksack.
"Robin… is this a fucking illegal food store?"
"That's blowing it out of proportion."
He climbs out from under the bed and drops her armful of twinkies, moon cakes, and a single Hershey's cookies 'n' creme.
"You can take that one," she says, pointing at the Hershey's. "A treat for lovergirl. You may need leverage to win her back."
He takes it. At this point, Robin's sure he'd cut his own hand off to bring you back with them. She kicks the rest of her contraband haphazardly under the bed and gets into a sweater, then another sweater, before zippering a winter coat over top. Robin's young, and mildly fit, not in shape but not out of it, so she volunteers for supply runs when Hopper asks for them. She can climb, and she's skinny enough to fit into places that other people can't. She's ready to go look for you.
Steve stands and makes his way to the door, swinging his rucksack over his shoulder.
They move out to the quad, where a sad roster of rescue squad applicants wait. Jonathan Byers sits on the low wall of the fountain, with a girl called Vanessa on one side, and a guy called Christopher on the other. Dustin and Mike stand talking, and Steve is barely in hearing range when he says, "You aren't coming, Henderson."
He stops in front of the fountain. "Are you ready?"
They all stand. Jonathan, surprisingly, has a gun strapped to his hip. "Hopper's orders," he says, sounding how Steve feels.
"Steve," Dustin says.
"You aren't allowed to come, for starters."
"I am, we're sixteen, we can-"
"Can't. That's why Will isn't here, right? Or Lucas? Because they actually listen when Hopper says no."
Mike glares. "I'm not here to go save your girlfriend."
"Awesome." Steve relaxes the tiniest bit, slapping Dustin's arm as they pass. "Thanks, Henderson, but you can't come. Stay here and make sure nobody claims our room."
Dustin shouts a string of expletives at their backs.
They pass through the North fence checkpoint. They're trying to retrace your steps. There aren't many to retrace. They assume you've gone North of the camp because South of it is Indiana, and Steve can't see why you'd backtrack.
They walk for hours. The sun moves through the sky all lazy and slow, tortuously so, and the only thing Steve can think of is you. It burns.
The first hint of you is a scrap of fabric. It isn't yours as far as he knows, but he and Robin look at it, look at each other, and then pick up the pace. A half hour later they almost miss it, a black button in amongst dry earth. An hour later, there's a water bottle cap.
"Holy fucking shit," Robin says. "She's leaving us breadcrumbs."
"She's a smart girl," Steve says, too defensive considering Robin's praising you. "Of course she is."
"I've been thinking," Jonathan says, his voice low and gravelly from a long period of quiet. "The theory is that she's uh, been kidnapped, right?"
"That's the theory," Steve says tightly. Trying his best not to be a dick, because Jonathan hasn't done anything wrong.
"So who took her?"
Steve's migraine throbs. He has this tension like a knit behind his eyes. He doesn't know who took you, he can't work it out, and it doesn’t make any sense. Hopper checked the lists and everybody in the community had been accounted for, and Steve had seen nearly every face himself hammering on doors.
"My mom poured over that list, she ticked everybody off," Jonathan continues.
"It doesn't make any sense," Steve says, "I know that, but she wouldn't leave like that, not–"
"No, I'm not saying that," Jonathan says quickly. "I'm not saying you're wrong. I'm saying we have to think outside of the box. Whoever took her isn't on the register."
"But they somehow knew enough about The College to take her without anybody seeing them," Vanessa says timidly.
"They took her from the shower room," Steve says quietly. "Her soap was still there, 'nd the girl on duty said she never came out of the first door again, so they took her from the back, and quietly."
"Maybe she got lured out," Robin says. "Maybe they tricked her."
Jonathan closes the small walking gap between himself and Steve, face earnest and concerned. He looks like a friend.
"Remember Tina and Sadie, they left two weeks ago to look for their mom? They're not on the register, they could still be close."
"But what would they want from her?" Christopher asks sceptically.
Steve feels an inkling of memory…
"Steve," Robin says apprehensively, giving him major side eye.
"It's fucking–" Heat like nothing he's ever felt burns behind his eyes. If he could, Steve would squat down on the ground and just sit there for a while, until this rush of fire and fear and missing you had toned it down, but he can't stop moving, so he staggers to keep walking. "Connor. It's Connor."
"The Creep?" Robin asks.
"I thought he died?" Vanessa asks.
Steve picks up the pace of his steps, and tries to explain coherently, though his voice sounds ragged as his thoughts, "He didn't die, he– he disappeared. And he was so weird, he kept asking me about my girl, and just thought he was a perv, he–" Steve looks at his small group. "He was too interested in her. I should've seen it."
"So he's not dead?"
Steve's thinking that might be up for debate.
—
The cabin is a shit show. When Connor bragged about fixing it up, you'd stupidly believed he actually fixed it up. His delusion stretches beyond you. It's cold to the point where your worries of hypothermia are no longer worries but eventualities, especially now he's realised the same thing and taken his coat back off of you. It hadn't fit well anyhow.
You huddle in the corner of the room where a small wood fire burns in the stove, not too shameful to hold your numb fingers over the flame. Connor rages behind you, grumbling hate to himself and slamming whatever it is he can find against other things. Door to the frame, chair to the wall, his bag kicked across the room. You know that, eventually, his anger will turn to you. Projection of anger has rules. The wall won't look nearly as satisfying as a bruise.
You turn to look at him over your shoulder as demurely as you can. You've smoothed down your hair, wiped your dirty face, and while you're no angel, he chose you, right? You must at least be his type.
Or maybe you'd been an easy target.
You wish you'd listened to Mallory all those weeks ago when she'd told you that having only Steve was a terrible idea. Not because having Steve is terrible, having Steve is everything, but because you can't imagine many people who'd be willing to fight for you. If he's coming to find you it's likely all by himself. Can Steve overpower this guy? You'd thought you could but you're not so sure. He's a tall man, an easy six foot.
He's scaring you.
You would try to calm him down if you weren’t worried he’d want you to show you how grateful you are for being rescued. You’d rather he rail at the window than touch you.
A sound like splintering wood has you flinching forward and away from him, hands dangerously close to the fire. You pull them away with a gasp, reminding Connor of your presence.
“What?” he asks.
“Nothing,” you say hurriedly. “You should come and sit down, huh? You’ve been walking all day.”
He sits down beside you after a pensive, dramatic minute rubbing his own head. He drops his bag by your feet and you take whatever warmth you can, hiding your shoes underneath it.
When he puts his hand on your thigh, you try to pretend it’s Steve. Steve sitting next to you, warm and soft and ready to pull you into his lap, that place between his legs, chest to chest and eye to eye. You want his hand in your hair, and his hot back under your frostbitten fingers.even when you were new, not quite in love, he’d let you hide your hands under his t-shirt. He’s that kind of good, right down to the marrow in his bones.
You wish you’d known what was going to happen. Not even to ask him to come with you. You think after everything the two of you deserve a proper goodbye. All that pain and all that affection and this is how it ends?
Connor’s hand creeps further down the length of your leg. You think, alright. Alright. I’ll do whatever I have to do if I get to see Steve again.
A sound like cracking wood echoes outside.
Connor is up and against the wall in two blinks. You follow him, breathing shallow as you peer outside. You’d agreed to the wood fire, knowing you’d get irretrievably sick without it, but you hadn’t mentioned the rule. You and Steve didn’t have too many, just enough to keep you alive, and the most important was to know the area before lighting a fire while it’s still light out. The smoke is a dead giveaway every time.
Another sound.
Someone has seen the smoke.
“What do we do?” you whisper.
He holds up his hand.
“What are we gonna do?”
“Let me think.”
“Should we put out the fire?”
“Shut up!” he says harshly. “Shut up, Jesus Christ. I can’t think with you jabbering in my ear.”
Connor opens his backpack and takes out a zip tie.
“No,” you say, shaking your head emphatically, “no, you can’t.”
“It’s this or I handcuff you to the radiator,” he says.
A silence stretches between you both. He grabs your wrists and closes the zip tie around your wrist until you’re sure your hands will fall off, plastic digging cruelly into the lines already there.
“You’re evil,” you murmur.
His eyes turn to frosted glass. For the second time, you think, There’s nothing there. Nothing kind. Obviously not: he’s such a loser he felt he had to take a girl captive to get some. Fucking freak.
He takes your face into his hand, squeezing your jaw in his paw of a hand. You whimper, your teeth grinding and your bones creaking from the force of it.
“Stay quiet.”
You stare.
“Say ‘yes’.”
His fingers dig into your skin so hard you know you’ll have fingernail welts.
“Yes,” you say, feeling as though you’ve choked on your own tongue. “I’ll be quiet.”
He throws your face away and your head smacks the wall. No more happy families. You cringe and slide down into yourself, a curled ball as he leaves the room. The gun clicks in his hands as he switches off the safety, and another metallic sound follows. You know it isn’t good.
You cower for a moment, freaked out beyond words, and then you pull it together. For Steve. You sit up and press an awkward hand to your aching, stinging jaw. There’s blood on your fingers when you pull your bound hands away. You slide onto your knees and struggle to stand, shoulders riding the wall. Your ears are posted for a sound. There are a hundred options and you don’t want any of them. Run away, get killed by whoever’s out there. Run away, get killed by Connor. Run away, get killed by a geek. Run away, survive, and never find a way to unbind yourself. Run away into the hands of someone crueller. Run away and never find Steve.
A female voice calls out.
“We just want to talk!”
That’s nobody you know. It’s not Robin. You try not to feel heartbroken, and when you do you try to hold it rather than have it drag you down. It’s not Steve, fine, but it’s a woman, and she’s probably a whole lot safer than Connor.
“I’m armed!” Connor shouts.
You walk slowly to the window and peer through. Down the cabin steps and in the grass stands a dark silhouette you know is Connor. Further along is a woman and another figure. You’re not sure who.
“So are we!” she calls.
“Fuck,” you whisper, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. What are you supposed to do? What’s the answer here?
The shouting out front continues, but that’s not what distracts you— there are sounds coming from behind. There’s someone at the back door. You cast your gaze around the room to look for something that can help you. There’s a fire poker on the floor near the wood stove. You rush to grab it, almost falling at the weight of your own head.
The first pop of the gun makes you drop it. Tears roll down your cheeks as you scramble to grab it again, hands shaking hard as footsteps sound in the hall. Another gunshot makes you gasp, the third has you swallowing a sob. You press yourself hard into the wall with the poker held aloft.
The door opens.
For a second, a split-second, you don’t recognise him.
“Steve!” Jonathan Byers shouts, grinning, “I got her!”
Thudding races from the kitchen and down the hallway. Steve appears behind Jonathan like a dream, a dizzying relief to see in all his pale sweetness.
You drop the poker and a sob comes so hard you can’t keep your eyes open. You’ve never felt anything like this. A nightmare over so suddenly and all you can do is fight to open your eyes.
Steve crosses the room, steps over Connor’s tantrum like it isn’t there, and wraps his arms around you. It’s a different kind of tightness, nothing like the cruel press of Connor’s fingers. Steve pulls you together, steadies you, cheek smashed into the top of your head and arms circling your shoulders. Your fingers shake, you can’t move your hands, and still you curl them around his coat uselessly. You can’t get a hold on him, but it doesn’t matter. Steve has you.
“It’s okay,” he’s saying, strands of panic sewn between the reassurance in his lovely voice. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Come on.” You’re crying like a little kid. You can’t stop, and you can’t breathe. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.”
Steve draws away from you, barely an inch, to slide the blade of his pen knife between your wrists. The zip tie splits and you vy for him weakly, your hands to his waist.
He shoves the pen knife into his pocket and grabs your arm. “I know, I know, but we have to go. We can’t stay here, the noise’ll draw company we don't want.” His hand roams up to your neck. He cups your face, his palm blistering to your chilled cheek. “Hey,” he says, smiling a rare smile. “My girl… it’ll be okay. I’m gonna fix it. Everything’s gonna be okay, I promise.”
He nods at you hopefully. You swallow your sobbing until it’s a wet gasping sounds and nod back. He looks at you for a charged second, before he wraps his arms around you again. Gentle, so, so careful. Your head rests in the crook of his arm, a crop of kisses laid over your cold cheek.
“You’re freezing,” he murmurs.
“I’m okay,” you say. “I’m fine now.”
—
Steve sits in the path of the window, afternoon light drizzling into his eyes and over your sleeping face. He squints against its brightness and stands to pull the curtains closed, fingertips on your shoulder. He has to stretch to reach, but he refuses to stop touching you. He’s worried you’ll disappear if he does. Contact keeps you here.
Curtains closed, he sits back down tentatively, looking for your hand in the mess of blankets and quilts covering your body. He’s wiped the blood from your cheeks, tended to your small inflamed cuts with disinfectant. He’s wrapped your sore wrists, spent hours rubbing your frostbitten fingers, worried the cold killed your circulation. You’ve slept for hours now, only stirring when he had to use the bathroom. He’d been gone for less than a minute, a heart attack in sixty seconds, and you’d been awake and trying to get out of bed when he got back.
He stays close.
He just wants you to rest.
Steve pulls back the blankets and slips in beside you slowly. You turn into his movements, and when he’s flat on his back you let your weight rest on him completely. Your breathing tells him you’re waking up, not quite slow, not quite deep.
He takes your hand into both of his and hugs it. Found it, he thinks.
“Stevie,” you utter.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
You smile and push your face into the juncture of his neck.
There aren’t really words for what Steve feels. Relief like a hurricane. Guilt something worse. Love, anger, worry. It’s all mixed together and he can’t pull one from the other, but he knows one thing.
“I couldn’t live without you,” he mumbles.
“Good,” you say. You snort into his skin. “Not good, baby, that’s awful, but-” You pull your hand from his to wrap it around his shoulders. He pulls you up onto his chest. “Good, ‘cause I can’t live without you.”
“You don’t have to.”
Your voice is scratchy from a lot of tears. He never wants to hear you cry like that again. He’s only heard it once before, when you’d fallen through the first floor of a dilapidated house a hundred miles away, and after hours where he’d assumed you’d never wake up again, you did, and you’d been in so much pain you couldn’t stay still. You’d shook for days.
“I would’ve looked for you until I found you,” he says, unsure what he wants. He thinks, selfishly, that he’d like some comfort.
“I know,” you say, your hand moving up, up to his hair.
You lean back to see him, the two of you nose to nose, and stroke his hair away from his forehead one strand at a time.
“Will you kiss me?” you whisper.
“Depends,” he whispers back. “What’s in it for me?”
“Anything you want.”
He smirks at you. “Already got everything I want right here.”
“In that case, you’ll have to consider it part of your philanthropy, handsome. I’m a charity case.”
“How dare you say that about my girl,” he says, his feigned indignation hard to believe with the mildness of his tone, and his lips so close to yours.
He kisses you, worried you’ll fall apart. It’s a sad kiss, not what he’d expected, though it’s better than the terrified one he’d stolen before you fell asleep. That had been nervous energy and imprecise, all the urgency of your first kiss and none of the finesse.
“Are you okay?” you ask, peeling away from his case to frame his face in your hands.
He could say no. Tears burn behind his eyes, his nose stings, he could burst into tears in your arms.
“How can you ask me that?” he asks, watching as your eyes pinch into a squint and all your eyelashes kiss.
“I love you,” you say.
He chokes on air. “I know that. I love you, too, but you’re the one who got hurt. You’re the one who’s hurting, why would you ask me how I am? You’re—“ Too good. Too good for me. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Steve.”
You have tears in your eyes and he’s flooded with guilt. He brought it up too soon, he knows. It’s barely over — you need to feel safe, and won’t if he keeps reminding you.
“I’m okay,” he says softly. “How are you feeling, huh?”
“I’m actually starving,” you admit, squishing his cheeks with your hands.
“You want me to go get you something?”
You look down bashfully. “I really need to shower, Steve. You might be blind to my grime but I’m gross right now–”
He kisses you to cut you off, a sharp, saccharine kiss that makes you giggle. “That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about, idiot.”
“Your girlfriend is a creature.”
“A creature!” He uses his weight to push you onto your back, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re done. You’re done,” he repeats, beaming at your infectious laughter, “you think you can talk about yourself whatever way you like, don’t you? It’s not happening.”
“Okay, I won’t,” you say, your eyes locking with his.
He watches your lips part, feels the rise and fall of your chest under his.
I’m so sorry, he wants to tell you.
You’re finally smiling. He won’t ruin it.
“Thank you,” he says, pulling his lips into a big smile.
It’s easier than he anticipates to smile. You needle your arms over his shoulders and tug him to your chest, your own smile like a brand next to his ear.
“I missed you,” you say. “I know it’s stupid.”
He exhales heavily. “I missed you too.”
#steve zombie!au#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington#stranger things x reader#stranger things fic#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fanfiction#stranger things#stranger things 4
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California Dreamin' [Backseat Bingo, part i]
masterlist
summary In 2077, Cooper Howard's efforts in the Sino-American war and his achievements on stage and screen have made him a household name across the globe. After his divorce, Cooper decides to throw himself back into his work on screen. Abandoning his dreams of becoming a real cowboy, he supposes acting as one will suffice. That's until he meets you, a rising starlet that's been pinned as the next big thing, that just so happens to be playing his love interest in his new movie... and Cooper can't seem to remember his lines anymore.
cooper howard / the ghoul x f!actress!reader
tags au (pre-war era/vault tec doesn't drop any bombs), older man/younger woman, age gap, reader is early to mid 20s, cooper is mid to late 40s, mentions of sa (nothing too graphic), reader has gender envy kinda, cooper is a tiny bit condescending but only if you squint.
a/n it's finally here!!! this is part one, not sure how many parts there will be just yet, but i'm just so excited to get this out here!💕
word count 1967
The persistent heat of Los Angeles had burned a star shaped hole straight into your heart. For years you had longed to go, to be someone. To create your own life, to live your passion. To be someone other then what you were.
Los Angeles had a reputation, the shining stars of Hollywood congregated there, it was where they worked and where they played. It was mysterious and oh, so enticing to a young girl who watched holotapes everyday after school.
You craved the feeling of the warm sun and the blistering heat, the smell of delicious coffee permeating the air and the dull sound of the crashing waves.
To be a star in Hollywood's constellation was anyone's dream. It was a life of luxury and fun, you'd wager most people would give an arm or leg, or both, to become a household name.
Years of longing and praying to God had payed off, you had bitten the bullet and once again, you prayed. Begged, even. You needed this to work. You couldn't face the shame of moving back home as a failed actress.
It worked. The praying to God had worked.
Or maybe you were just really pretty, and had worked your ass off for months. Waitressing, auditioning and waitressing again until finally you had gotten a part.
A part that you knocked out of the park, one that had changed you life.
In a matter of weeks you had went from a waitress in Sammy's Diner, to America's new sweetheart. Your rundown, one bedroom studio apartment that was severely overpriced considering the mold and the peeling wallpaper had morphed into a lavish villa in Bel-Air.
You had went from scowering for open casting calls to having an agent that was finding you parts, most of which were being offered to you.
Life had taken a turn for the better, and it stayed that way for the following two years.
Now, the glamour of Los Angeles was a part of your daily life, you were used to the heat by now, though never tired of feeling the sun on your smooth, pampered skin.
You had grown accustomed to your fans, your wonderful, ever growing crowd of fanatics that helped grow your confidence more than you would like to admit.
Though, you also had your fair share of negativity, so much so, your management had decided to assign you a bodyguard to accompany you during press and parties.
Most criticism drawn towards you was based on your more... provocative roles, although you had joked that your critics are simply jealous of your appeal.
Now, you could afford to be selective with your roles. You could choose how the public viewed you.
Were you gonna be the femme fatale, the dumb blonde or the screwball heroine?
You had decided to mix the three, who wants to be typecast, anyway?
Now, though, you had landed the female lead in a Solomon Barnes flick, 'Under the Covers', starring the Cooper Howard.
Originally, the part was meant for Vera Keyes, however, the studio (and Barnes, but he'd never admit that), had come to the decision that Keyes' acting was flat, and she wasn't sultry enough for the role.
In other words, you were prettier. And, more willing to take off your clothes.
So, here you were, being driven along to Global Pictures Studios on your first day.
It would be an easy enough gig, all you had to do was be a damsel in distress, bat your eyelashes and smile sweetly. Barnes hadn't exactly written your character with layers.
Seemed like a sweet deal to you.
Only problem was, you were nervous. As you always were, even on jobs that required more of you. You were always able to handle it, of course, it was your job and not only that, you were good at your job, obviously.
Stepping out of the car sent for you by Global, you hurriedly made your way to the makeup trailer, which you found with ease, it wasn't your first time on this lot.
Opening the door to the large trailer, you make sure not to turn around when closing the door, your mother had always told you it was rude.
"Look who it is!" a voice squealed.
Your head snaps in the direction and you can't help the cheeky smile that creeps onto you bare face.
It's Madelyn, the makeup girl, well... your makeup girl.
She had been an assistant makeup artist on your first ever movie, and had quickly became one of your closest friends, so you had no choice but to request her presence on every other set since.
"Scale of one to ten, how excited are you-" she began with burgeoning excitement, quickly embracing you before ushering you to the makeup chair.
"To be working with Cooper Howard?" you interrupt, mocking her tone with a giggle. She must've asked you that question at least 50 times in the past week.
Her head jerks towards you, looking at you sideways through the mirror, a poorly concealed laugh escaping her lips.
"Seriously," she says, eyes squinted, tone stern.
"Meh."
You had never seen the appeal. Sure, you admired him because of his talent and ability, but westerns had never been your thing.
"You are unbelievable," Madelyn shakes her head, giggling, "you're seriously trying to tell me you don't care that you're going to be working with him?"
"It's not that I don't care, I just don't understand all the fuss," you sigh, amusement lacing your tone, "he's just like every other leading man I've worked with. Nothin' special."
Madelyn hums at that, turning to face her makeup palette.
You look straight into the mirror, watching her as she does. You entwine your fingers into eachother and rest your elbows on the armrests of the chair.
What made Cooper Howard so special? He was all anybody ever talked about. Makeup artists, producers, directors, fellow actors... why did everyone adore him so much?
Most leading men you've worked with tended to be a bit egotistical on a good day, but never seriously vicious. Some were nicer than others and some were more prone to snaking their hands just an inch too low on your backside than others.
So, what made Cooper Howard any different? You had heard rumours of his recent divorce, how he'd had to split custody of his daughter with his ex-wife. You felt sorry for him, but more worried for yourself, would his recent shortcomings make him harder to work with?
Honestly, you were surprised you had never met him, you travelled in somewhat of the same social circles due to your profession.
It would be a lie if you said you weren't slightly jealous of him. The adoration he received from practically everyone made your skin crawl, you wondered had you been a man would you be loved unconditionally by the public like he was.
A tinge of anxiety bolted through you like a strike of white, hot lightening.
Before you knew it, you were dressed and ready.
These costumes provided to you always made you feel like a little girl playing dress up again.
You strut towards the indoor set, making pleasantries along the way with PA's and other crew members, you felt ready to face your first day. How could you not be?
It wasn't until you finally arrived inside did your slight panic fully subside. A feeling of ease washed over you. No matter where you were filming, you felt at home on sets, always.
The cold, conditioned air blasts right into your face as you pass through the double doors of Stage 11, the breeze cooling your hot skin.
Surveying the set, your gaze locked onto Barnes.
He was short, shorter than you anyway and had a glistening, bald head and his browline glasses amways seemed to make him look like some form of a cartoon. He was in the process of chewing out some poor, unfortunate intern.
He had always been nice to you when you'd seen him at social events, but you didn't think he liked you so much as to offer you a lead role in his movie.
Stalking over to him, he jolted when you spoke up behind him.
"I can't thank you enough for this, Mr. Barnes," you smiled sweetly.
Barnes turned to face you, his own sideways smirk plastered on his face. He looked you up and down, his eyes scanning your outfit. The intern took your distraction as a chance to scurry away like a mouse.
"Please, I should be the one thanking you for signing on on such late notice," he breathed, "you saved this movie from being scrapped by the studio."
"Don't be ridiculous," you shyed away, eyes flickering towards the motel room set that was being built up with final touches, "how could I ever say no to being in a Soloman Barnes picture?"
He laughs gleefully at that.
"I'll have you know flattery doesn't work on me, young lady," he sighs deeply, tone dripping with sarcasm, "but seriously, can we talk about this dress? The ladies in the costume department really took care of you."
"They're the best in the business," you state, "you're lucky to have such talented people working for you."
Barnes begins to speak, some sticky remark on the tip of his tongue, amused by your apparent flattery, but is interrupted by another deep voice, coated in a thick southern drawl.
"I would have to agree."
You spin quickly, following the sound.
Cooper Howard stands directly infront of you, his annoyingly handsome face has a toothy grin spread across it, it looks almost earnest. Maybe it's the lighting. And, of course, a cigarette in hand.
Definitely playing the part of leading man, and the camera isn't even rolling.
He's in costume too, though you notice his isn't nearly as constrictive.
Asshole.
He extends his free hand towards you, which you take. His hands are large and calloused and you almost jump when he clasps his other over yours.
"Mr. Howard-" you start, your voice is a pitch higher than it was a moment ago.
"It’s Cooper, dolly. No need for niceties 'round me," he offers.
Your mouth hangs open slightly, before you nod dumbly.
Jesus Christ, girl, wake up.
You repeat his name sheepishly, almost shyly. Almost.
“There we go,” Cooper tilts his head slightly, cigarette hanging limply from his lips.
You huff, you feel like a schoolgirl being scolded by a teacher at the top of the class.
"Well, I am honoured," he begins, "I have to admit I am a huge fan of yours."
"Oh, well thank you," you breathe, smoothing you dress out with you jewellery laced hands, head tilted high, chin up.
Barnes chuckles, his head bent sideways, his blue grey eyes meeting your own.
"Not a fan of Mr. Howard?" he teases, very obviously trying to contain his amusement.
You roll your eyes between the pair of men. Seriously?
Cooper raises an expectant eyebrow.
"Just not exactly a fan of shitty westerns," you state simply.
Cooper chokes, and suddenly finds the vinyl floor very interesting, a pink hue cast over his cheeks.
Barnes gapes at that, not expecting such brassy tones from his young leading lady. And he certainly wasn't expecting her to call his some of his previous work 'shitty'.
"Now, gentlemen, if you could excuse me, I need to acquaint myself with the crew," you proclaim, sauntering away towards the sound technicians.
"She's quite something, isn't she?" Barnes chuckles widly.
Cooper turns to him quickly and nods hesitantly, clicking his tongue.
"Sure is."
He follows Barnes' gaze and watches intently, his lips pulled into a tight line as you smile with glossed lips at the sound guys, all of whom are watching you speak adoringly, bashful smiles and scrunched noses as they bathe in sunshine of your presence, a harsh contrast to what Cooper had just received.
Cooper sighs.
He's fucked.
~
tagged people @whatiswrongwithpeople @sarasxe @htchnr @lilivanilli @eykismyfav @spookyspecterino @sillysimping @anonymous-creep @chainsawangel @harveysgirl101 @lovziy @b00tycheeks @ss108 @babyinatrench-coat1 @auroranodyssey @ghcstvibess @looneylooomis @valhallavalkyrie9 @ineffablebean @gobsalad @ddarling-ddearest-ddead @sitkafay
#cooper howard fic#backseat bingo#walton goggins#the ghoul x reader#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard x fem!reader
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Marooned: Chapter 10
Kid X FemReader x Killer
Had big plans for Chapter 10 but decided to split it into two chapters. Felt like it would flow better.
Warnings: attempted SA, violence, murder
Femme Fatale
It was your third day on the ship and you woke up on the floor of the infirmary after slipping off Mini's side at some point in the night. Getting off the ground was harder than you wanted it to be. My back is so fucked. You stretched until the pain softened and then went to the mess hall, this time with everyone else. The outfit that you had made from hand-me-downs was much better than what you had on, but since it was a dress, you didn't really want to wear it until you had panties. You knew if you tried to wear it without them, a wardrobe malfunction would inevitably happen.
After grabbing your plate, you looked around for a place to sit, eyes from all around darted to you. It felt like your first day at the marine academy all over again. You saw Heat, but he was with the higher ranking people. The girls all sat together at one end of a table. That was your best bet, though you hadn't had female friends in a while. As a kid, you looked like a boy and hung out with the boys for the most part. And in your more recent life, you were the only female on the crew. Approaching the table, your foot hit something and you nearly tripped. Catching yourself, you turned to see what you tripped over and saw the same man that didn't heed your advice about the poisonous fruit retract his foot. The son of a bitch tried to trip you. Him and his buddies snickered at you, stopping pretty quickly after you stared them down. You weren't a captain anymore, but you still carried an aura of authority. It had always been second nature. You rolled your eyes, heading towards the girls. Losers.
"Mind iff I sit?" you nodded towards an empty space.
"Go ahead," a kind looking woman with big hair slapped the spot next to her. "I'm Quincy. Sorry about Synth over there. He's new."
"I see," you eyed him. You ate without saying anything else.
"You're taking care of Killer, right? He usually cooks and it's MUCH better than this. I promise."
You shrugged, "It's the best stuff I've eaten in a few years." Curiosity about Killer tickled your mind. You wondered how good of a chef he was. It was odd for a first-mate to also cook.
"I hope Killer wakes up soon. Captain is getting agitated. I think he locked himself in his workshop all day yesterday." Quincy was sort of rambling.
A very petite woman with green pigtails spoke up, "Yeah we put bets that he was with you, new girl, since you were missing all day, too." You found out later she was called Dive. "But you're walking fine so I guess not."
You blinked at her and felt your face turn red. "Gross." You hid behind your napkin, pretending to wipe your mouth off while you willed your face to cool off. Much of your day alone yesterday was spent bitching to Killer's unconscious form about how much Kid annoyed you, which then somehow evolved into daydreaming about hate-fucking him. The rest of the table sat up a little straighter as a harsh flick to the back of your head alerted you to the presence of the Red Menace.
"What's gross now?" He put his hands on yours and Quincy's shoulders and leaned down with his signature smirk.
As the rest of the group was a chorus of "nothing", your voice stood out, "You." You ducked to shake his hand from your shoulder, grabbing your plate and heading to put it up.
"HAH?" There was stomping coming up behind you. Quickening your pace, you slipped out onto the deck and waited there with your arms crossed. You thought about going to the infirmary, but it was nice outside, and you wanted to see why Kid came up to you in the first place. The door to the deck slammed open and he made a beeline for you, holding a mop. "ROTTEN!" He shoved it at you. "I want this deck spotless or yer gonna be at the bottom of the ocean."
Taking the mop from him, you conceded, "Aye, Captain."
Kid narrowed his amber eyes in your direction. He expected you to put up a bit more of a fight and he didn't like your tone, but he stalked towards Wire, who was manning the helm, without another word. Maybe it wasn't the tone that really bothered him, but the silky way the word "Captain" rolled from your mouth and the way your eyes teasingly sparkled at him. He didn't notice before, that your right eye wasn't a normal prosthetic. It was a strange-looking log pose. Mentally, he was keeping a list of every odd thing about you, including the fact that when he looked at you from the side, your left side, there was a strange familiarity. Yesterday, he spent the time in his workshop investigating your hybrid weapon. It was the worst, most impractical thing he had ever seen. He knew he could make a better version, not for you of course, he just liked the challenge.
Before you started your assigned duty, you called Minerva out to lay in the sun. She loved a good sunbathing session. Every time you started a new section, she would trot her stubby legs over and plop down near you. As people passed by, her snout followed them, sniffing and grunting at the air. Some of the girls from this morning asked if they could pet her, which she thoroughly enjoyed. When you needed a break, you set the mop down in her tusks. Mini didn't appreciate it, but her lack of will to shake it off made her tolerate it. To pass the time, you softly sang to yourself some of the shanties you knew. Some of the crew joined in when they passed by, which brought a small smile to your face. Maybe the Kid pirates aren't so terrible. From the stories you used to hear, you thought they would be rougher. Lost in thoughts, you didn't notice most of the crew filter under the deck for lunch. Several other pairs of eyes noticed that you were alone on deck, however.
Minerva's ears flipped forward an instant before there was an arm around your neck, cutting off your air supply. "All by yourself are ya, girl? We think you could use some company." Rank breath said, so close to your neck you could throw up. His hand groped your chest and he snickered. "No bra? Just for us? Our lucky day." Your heartbeat flew at the unfortunately familiar situation. Unpleasant memories threatened to flood in and you beat them back. That was the past and this was the present, and you weren't going to let phantoms get in your way of beating someone's ass. You never had. You saw the fur on Mini's back stand up. The click of gun being cocked was the only thing stopping her from annihilating the two lackeys that were with this waste of carbon. You took a breath to steady yourself as adrenaline rushed into your veins. They picked the wrong one. Sliding your foot back for a solid balance, you flipped him over your back and swiftly grabbed the mop you dropped. Snapping the head off over your knee you got in a defensive stance.
"I would tell you that you don't want to do this, but I desperately need to blow off steam and I didn't like you the second you opened your mouth on that island." One of Synth's friends aimed his weapon at you.
"Aim at the pig. I'm going to teach this bitch a lesson myself." It was only fair you let him get off the ground. Once.
A wicked smile sat on your features. "You're the only pig I see here." This was self-defense, a green flag to inflict permanent damage. It had been a while since you fought. The voice in your head reminded you to hold back. They didn't need to know your prowess and you would definitely be flagged as a former marine for some moves. It would be hard, though, since they already reminded you of the people you swore to kill when you were back at sea. Rage was the perfect antidote to poisoned memories. No phantoms, red was all you saw.
You circled each other. Synth lunged at you with a blade that you hadn't noticed before. Wonderful. I brought a mop to a knife fight. You slid out of the way, letting him run past you and hitting him as hard as you could with the mop handle, without using haki, in the head. He wasn't knocked out but he was knocked down, knife clattering on the wood. You stepped on his hand as he reached for it and picked it up yourself. If stupid Kid hadn't taken your weapon, this would be over a lot faster. You needed to free Minerva up from being held under gunpoint. You would be damned if you called for help, especially from Kid. You had too much pride.
Testing the weight of the blade in your hand, you whipped it at Lackey #1. Several things happened simultaneously: Lackey #1 dropped his gun when the knife plunged into his stomach, Lackey #2 had his attention drawn away from Mini and onto you, you followed your throw and hit him upside the head with the mop, and Quincy had seen it all happen from the door. She had noticed you weren't at the table with them like this morning and went to grab you for lunch. Lackey #1 hit the floor screaming and looking for his gun, which was a ways away from you both. Blood rushed in your ears so loudly, you didn't hear it. A searing pain ripped through your thigh as a bullet went clean through to the deck. Lackey #2 was aiming for your chest when Mini rammed him and flung him straight up into the air. You stumbled as your leg spasmed under you. Looking for Synth, he wasn't where you left him. You cursed your inability to use observation haki as you felt yourself being hit from the side and being tackled to the deck. Synth was over you balling his fist. White covered your vision as you felt it connect with your face. When color flooded back, you saw your fake eye rolling across the deck. No, no, no. That was the key to finding the people you owed a visit. His hands were around your throat and your vision threatened to fade again as you struggled to take a breath. Like a viper, the palm of your hand struck out at his face, crushing his nose and causing his grip to falter. Despite the pain in your leg, you managed to flip him off you and get your legs around his throat in a triangle chokehold. Blood from his face coated your hand and you tasted iron in your mouth. As soon as you got your bearings, you saw Lackey #1 crawling to his gun. "Mini!" you rasped. She looked to where you pointed. Lackey #2 was also crawling to his gun, clearly having a worse time since his fall from the sky broke a few bones. She trotted to the gun, which happened to be slightly closer to her and kicked it close enough that you could lunge to grab it. Lackey #1 was taking aim at Mini, who had turned her attention to him, lowering her head to charge. Synth was fighting your hold, though weakly. Squeezing him harder, you tried to get him to stop moving. Your aim wasn't as good as it was when you had two eyes. Depth perception was a real bitch. The bullet cracked through the air as you took aim and shot. You saw him fall from the corner of your vision as you did the same thing to Lackey #2. The pistol cocked a third time. Your hand gripped his hair and yanked his head to the side to get a better angle, pressing the cold steel to his temple. It didn't fire when you pulled the trigger, not the next time either. You settled for pistol whipping him. Releasing him from your hold, you sat on his chest instead and let him know what a real punch felt like, knocking his teeth out. There were suddenly hands pulling you off him as you cocked your fist back to get him again.
You hadn't noticed the commotion that was now on deck. Quincy had ran down to the mess in a panic to tell Kid what was happening. The crew were whispering amongst themselves as Kid walked over to where Heat and Wire had you restrained. He didn't acknowledge you at all. Your heart dropped into your stomach. He looked mad. So mad he was silent instead of his usual screaming self. Pain started to seep into your body as the adrenaline wore off and you caught your breath. Kid spoke directly to Wire, "Keep her in the med bay until I'm done." His voice was low with unbridled rage. You watched Kid stalk off to Synth and pick him up by the hair before he disappeared under the deck. Wait is he mad at him or me? Or both? Wire and Heat half-dragged you to the infirmary while your eyes scanned the deck for your eye. If it was gone, your life would be a lot more difficult.
You fought their hold on you. "I can walk," your voice was still raspy. Wire half-heartedly slapped the bullet hole in your thigh. Gritting your teeth through the pain, "What the fuck?"
"Not everything has to be a fight. Let us help you," Heat said, trying to make up for Wire's rougher approach.
You spat out a fake laugh. "Oh yeah? By doing what? Keeping me captive so your captain can choke me to death himself?" They didn't say anything else until they set you down on the counter in the infirmary. Mini followed them in, eyeing them warily. Heat stayed by the door and you could see Wire guarding it from the outside. You scooted on the counter to grab gauze and antiseptic. You wished you could use your power to restore yourself but they would notice if a wound was suddenly gone. From the cabinet you took some pain pills and washed them down with water straight from the sink faucet. You looked yourself over, noticing that this was not a job for some pieces of gauze. You hopped on your good leg and with Minerva's assistance, made it to the bathroom.
"Leave the door open."
"Heat, I didn't take you for a pervert like your captain."
He frowned and closed his eyes. "I'm not..." Heat genuinely seemed a bit insulted. "Just need to know you didn't pass out from blood loss," he muttered.
"I'll tell you when to open them." You stripped off the bloody and torn clothes, easing yourself into the shower. The water was cold at first. It helped to dull the pain, or that was the pain medicine kicking in. Gingerly, you washed out the various cuts and wounds, wincing at the sting. When the water turned from rusty-brown to clear, you got out, dried off, and went to where you had Killer's old shirt. Slipping it on and buttoning it you cleared your throat, "Ok, you can open." You pushed yourself back up on the counter and continued to disinfect your major cuts. After you dressed the last one, you sat in silence with your hands between your knees.
"Who are you?" Heat only had curiosity behind his eyes, no malice or suspicion.
"Does it matter? Kid is gonna kill me for shooting those guys." He probably wanted you alive so he could torture you to his heart's content.
"Nah. Those guys were brand new." Heat continued after considering what to say, "Captain is probably mad at himself for not keeping a closer eye on them. If it wasn't you it could have been one of the other girls." Heat grinned, "And between you and me, you're much stronger than them."
You looked down at your feet. "I'm glad it was me then," you said softly. That was something you could understand. It always felt terrible when you were unable to protect someone in your crew. It felt like you were a failure as a captain. The girls all seemed nice enough and they were obviously tough if they were part of the Kid Pirates. Even you had gotten hurt, though, so it could have been worse for one of them.
You hopped over to Killer, checking on him. "Damn, this dude can sleep." You prodded him. Placing your ear to his chest, there was still a little mucus rattling around. You were a little tired yourself after all that had transpired. Mini was already asleep in her corner. There was a chair near Killer's legs that you plopped in. You weren't about to ask Heat to give you a boost into your bunk, so you folded your arms where there was space on the stretcher and laid your head down.
Next
#there was also a literal dumpster fire across the street#kid x reader x killer#one piece#eustass kid#massacre soldier killer#killer x reader#eustass kid x reader#marooned#tw: sa#tw: murder
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Hello! I had this idea, and I wanted to see if you're ok with it. So I kinda want to see if it is possible to mash the multiverse thingy of marvel to harry potter.
Can you make one where in another universe Severus Snape married Lily (or anyone really) and had a daughter. I don't know how, but the daughter got sucked into a portal that transported her to canon hp, where she met Sev. She looks so much like Snape and even has his wit, snark, and sarcasm. What will Snape's reaction be to a teenage girl calling him dad and is very confused on why everyone she knows suddenly "pretends" to not know her. She's getting panicky and overwhelmed.
If it's too much, I totally understand ♡♡♡
I feel like you read one of my old posts before, because I talked about this specific idea before!
It’s not too much at all dear
Severus snape x daughter reader
Never change
You squinted your eyes at the sun shine on your face directly, you looked around and noticed you’re back at school grounds.
Was it a dream? Was that death eater just a figment of your imagination’s? Honestly that wouldn’t be surprising, you’ve seen too much in your years and you’re not even full 16.
Hogwarts did that to students, you feel old and young at the same time, you wondered how your dad made it out alive out of this place in one piece.
You stood up and dusted your robes, the wind blowed up as you walked inside the castle, you kept your face in its usual natural state and looked around, something felt slightly off, some students were staring at you.
It would be understandable if they were first years or looking nervous, having your father’s features wasn’t exactly the most calming thing to witness in the morning.
But there were seventh years, whispering, people from your own house, they knew better than to do that.
Something was definitely off.
"Draco!" You spotted you friend near a tree, he turned around and frowned your way, that was odd, sure he acted sometimes annoyed but you haven’t said it done anything to piss him off lately.
"Who are you? Is this a joke to you? You’re not allowed to pretend you’re in another house"
You blinked at him then crossed your arms over your chest "Has your pea sized brain popped or something? It’s not funny Draco, and I fail to see the humor with this stupid prank everyone is on but me"
The blonde scoffed and looked you up and down "You sound like professor snape, and you act like him too, the only joke here is you" that hurt, yet you didn’t show it, this was a cruel prank and you will put an end to it, you’re not gonna be the butt of someone’s child’s joke.
"I hope you know that I will not let this slip so easily, be grateful I haven’t cursed you yet"
"Ohh I’m scared of mini snape"
Controlling what’s left in you of anger you stormed away to the direction of your father’s office, there were people staring and whispering.
You even bumped into potter, the boy did a double take before whispering to friends about some cruel unfortunate hex you were hit with to look like their potions master.
By the time you reached his office you both felt choked and angry "Dad we need to talk" you choked out but instead of your father’s usual reaction you were met with utter confusion and even slight annoyance.
He was grading papers and was sneering at you when he got a good look at your face "If this some type of joke I promise the consequences of this would be fatal" He stood up to his full height.
"This is not humorous in the slightest! You of all people should know better than this!"
Your father stared at you, furious but you stood your ground.
"Who do you think you are?"
"Your daughter."
There was a moment of silence then before you knew it he was breaking into your memories, one by one, from your most precious moments with him and your mother to your most current when a death eater blasted you.
You fall down on your knees, out of breath and looking up at him hurt and confused "Dad what’s going on?"
He looks at you with wide eyes, he’s never seen something like this before, those were not fake memories, they happened and they were real.
You were real.
"Who…how? This is impossible…"
"Dad I’m scared, why is everyone acting so weird?"
"I’m afraid…I’m actually your father…at least not in this world?"
That was probably the breaking point for you, this man was supposed to be your father, the safest person to go too and now…somehow you’re stranger with the same face.
"You were hit with a spell of sorts" He said kneeling down in front of you. You felt so small and lost, no one knew who you were, you felt alone.
"Tell me something I haven’t figured out already why don’t you?!" You snapped at him.
He doesn’t react much and just sighs "You’re not supposed to be here and it seems that…you’ll have to stay here until I figure out what was used on" typical of him to already think of solutions on the spot.
So familiar but distant.
"Child…I am not gonna ask you for anything personal but I need you to trust my word, I don’t plan to harm you"
You always trusted your father, severus snape may seem like a heartless git from the outside but he was the kindest man at heart, at least in your eyes and even now, this version of him…he wasn’t your grumpy old man but he was still a part of him.
"I trust you…i always did" you let out a breath.
"Good….I have one last question"
"What?"
He opened his mouth then closed, he looked almost hesitant, something he rarely showed but then spoke "Was I a good father?"
You blinked at him "You were the best, a good father a husband, my mother loved you and you loved us both"
"I see. Now get up" his tone was calmer and his eyes weren’t sharp as before.
When you got up and looked at him walking back to his desk, a form of safety tingled in your chest, it wasn’t always his words that made you appreciate him, he spoke with his body, his hands weren’t firm and his jaw was clenched.
He was thinking, maybe even worried.
He was worried for you….
A small smile tugged on your lips as you sat on a chair near his desk, like you did a million times in your lifetime and watched him write a letter to the headmaster.
Some things never change.
Sorry if there’s some grammar mistakes I wrote this between my shifts so hopefully it’s good lol 🤍
#imagine#pro severus#pro severus snape#severus snape#snape fandom#snapedom#severus x reader#severus snape fanfiction#severus snape x reader#severus snape x y/n#platonic severus snape x reader#severus#severussnape#severus snape x you#professor snape
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Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)
The Usual Suspects
Masterlist
*3rd Person POV*
Baltimore, Maryland
"Under what name? Oh, yeah, that's my favorite so far. Possible ID's in three states that we know of." Sheridan asked as he was on his cellphone. Then he pulls a paper from the fax machine and stares at it. "I gotta call you back." He said as he hangs up.
Meanwhile, a SWAT team approaches a motel room from the outside.
Back at the station, Sherdian enters an interrogation room then sits down across from Dean Winchester. "Well, first I thought you were just stepping up your game. Credit card fraud, breaking and entering, and this one...puzzled me. Grave desecration. But still these are a long way from murder. Then we get a fax from St. Louis. Where you're suspected of torturing and murdering a young woman. However, no one could prove anything, of course, because supposedly you died there." He said.
Back at the motel, The SWAT team breaks open a 2nd-floor door with a battering ram. Inside, Sam stops, holding his hands up. Diana Ballard advances on Sam, her gun forward. "Going somewhere, Sam?" She asked him as Sam looks at her, nervously. "Now...where's (y/n)?" She asked and Sam shrugs.
"But I gotta tell you something. You look pretty healthy to me." Sheridan said as he looks at Dean. "So now we know Karen Giles wasn't the first person you murdered. But I guarantee you she's the last." He said as he stands for a moment then he walks out.
Early the next morning, Ballard enters another interrogation room, where Sam is pacing by the window. She places a coffee cup on the table. "Thought you might be thirsty." She said and Sam looks at her. "Okay, so you're the good cop. Where's the bad cop?" He asked. "Oh, he's with your brother." Ballard said.
"Okay. And you're holding us why?" Sam asked her. "Well, he's being held on suspicion of murder. And you, we'll see." She said and Sam leans forward, shocked. "Murder?!" He exclaims, shocked. "You sound genuinely surprised. Or are you that good of an actor?" Ballard asked.
"Who was he supposed to have murdered?!" Sam asked her. "We'll get around to that." She said and Sam scoffs. "Well, you can't just hold us here without formal charges!" He shouts. "Well actually, we can, for forty eight hours, but you being a pre-law student, would know that. I know all about you, Sam." She said then she reads from a file.
"You're twenty three years old, no job, no home address. Your mother died when you were a baby, your father's whereabouts are unknown. And then there's the case of your brother Dean. Whose demise was, well, just a little bit exaggerated. Feel free to jump in whenever you like." She said and Sam leans against the wall, folding his arms.
"Shy? No problem. I'll keep going. Your family moved around a lot when you were a kid. Despite that, you were a straight-A student. Got into Stanford with a full ride. Then about a year ago there was a fire in your apartment. One fatality. Jessica Moore, your girlfriend. After she died, you fell off the grid. Left behind everything." She said as she closes the file.
"I needed some time off. To deal. So I'm taking a road trip with my brother and an old family friend." Sam said. "How's that going for you?" Ballard asked. "Great. I mean...we saw the second largest ball of twine in the continental US. Awesome." Sam said and he pulls a chair up to the table and straddles it.
"We ran Dean's fingerprints through AFIS." Ballard said. "Okay." Sam said. "Got over a dozen possible hits." She said. "Possible hits. Which makes them worthless." Sam points out. "But it makes you wonder. What are we gonna find when we run your prints?" She asked him. "And once we find (y/n), we'll run her prints as well."
"Yeah, well." Sam said and he pounds his fist on the table sarcastically. "You be sure to let me know, all right." He said then he points at the cup. "May I?" He asked her. "Please." She said. "Great." He said and he sniffs the cup and sips it as she leans over him, intently.
"Sam, you seem like a good kid. It's not your fault Dean's your brother. We can't pick our family. Right now detectives in St. Louis are exhuming a corpse. They're trying to figure out how your brother faked his own death. After torturing all those young women. Dean's a bad guy. His life is over. Yours doesn't have to be." She said as Sam looks at her, incredulous.
"You want me to turn against my own brother?" Sam asked her. "No. We already caught him cold. Red-handed at the Karen Giles murder scene. We just need you to fill in some missing pieces. And maybe tell us where (y/n) is." Ballard said.
"Why would I do that?" Sam asked her. "Because I can talk to the DA. Make a deal for you. You can get on with your life. Dean's as good as gone. (Y/n)'s, I'm not too sure about her but that's why we need to find her." Ballard said. SM thinks for a moment, looking distraught, then begins speaking quietly.
"My dad, (y/n)'s dad and Tony Giles were old friends. They were in the service together. We've known him since we were kids, you know? So we came as soon as we heard about his death." Sam starts to explain.
Flashback
*(y/n)'s POV*
Dean and I were sitting at a cafe table, he was reading a newspaper and I just look out at the streets. Sam then approaches with a drink carrier, holding three cups of coffee and sets it down.
As he sits, Dean hands over the paper. "There you go." Sam said as he hands us our dinks then takes a chair from another table and pulls it up to our table. "Anthony Giles." Dean said.
"Who's Anthony Giles?" Sam asked him. "He's a Baltimore lawyer. Working late in his office, check it out." Dean said and Sam takes the paper and I lean over to read it as well. "Uh...throat was slit, room was clean. Huh. No DNA, no prints." I read and Dean nods.
"Keep reading, it gets better." He said, encouraging. "Security cameras failed to capture footage of the assailant." Sam said. "So I'm thinking either somebody tampered with the tapes --" Dean said and I talk over him. "Or it's an invisible killer." I said and Dean nods. "My favorite kind. What do you think, guys? You wanna check it out?" He asked us and we nodded.
*3rd Person POV*
Present Day
"Woulda been kinda hard for Dean to kill Tony, considering we weren't in town at the time." Sam said to Ballard. "So tell me what happened next." She said, questionable. "Okay, uh, that's when we went to see Karen. She was barely holding it together. We just wanted to be there for her. You know?" He explains.
Flashback
*(y/n)'s POV*
Karen, a young woman with dark hair and dark-framed glasses, is sitting in her home, on the verge of tears. She's looks at us, as we were dressed as insurance company employees. "Insurance. I totally forgot about the insurance." She said. "We're very sorry to bother you right now, but the company is required to conduct its own investigation. You understand." Sam said to her. "Sure." She said.
"Okay. Um. If you could just tell us anything you remember about the night your husband died." I said to her. "Uh, Tony and I were just supposed to have dinner. He called and said he was having computer troubles and that, that he had to work late. That was it." Karen said.
"Do you have any idea who could have done this to him?" Sam asked her. "No. No, it's like I told the police, I, I have no idea." She said. "Did Tony mention anything, you know, unusual to you? In the days before his death?" Dean asked her.
"Unusual..." she said, confused. "Yeah, like strange?" Dean asked and she shakes her head. "Strange?" She said. "You know, Karen, weird? Weird noises, uh, visions, anything like that?" He asked her and Sam clears his throat and gives Dean a look. Karen turns to Sam, who turns on his concerned-face again, as I shoot Dean a look as Karen glances down.
"He had a nightmare the day before he died." She said. "What kind of a nightmare?" Sam asked her. "Uh, he said that he woke up in the middle of the night and there was a woman standing at the foot of the bed, he blinked and she was gone, I mean, it was just a nightmare." Karen said, shrugging.
"Did he say what she looked like?" Dean asked her. "What the hell difference does it make what she looked like?" She asked, annoyed. "Uh, it's just, our, our company's very thorough." Dean said. "He said she was pale, and she had dark red eyes." She replied.
*3rd Person POV*
Present Day
"So I gave Karen a hug, told her to call me if she needed anything...and that was it. End of story." Sam explained to Ballard, who lowers her head and sighs. "Sam, I am trying to help you here. But you have got to be honest with me. Now we have an eyewitness. Someone who saw two men and a woman fitting you, your brother and (y/n)'s description breaking into Giles' office." She said.
"Okay, look, Karen called us later, said that there was some stuff that she wanted from Tony's office, but the police weren't letting her in -- like, a picture of the two of them in Paris, and some other stuff. Look, it was wrong to enter a crime scene, but she gave us the key!" Sam explained.
*(y/n)'s POV*
Flashback
I pick the lock on Giles office and the three of us enter, ducking under the police tape. Sam shines his flashlight on a pool of blood on the floor. "Hey. Anthony Giles' body was found right about here." Sam said as I read a file. "Throat slit so deep part of his spinal cord was visible." I said and Dean whistles.
"What do you think? Vengeful spirit? Underlining vengeful?" Dean asked us. "Yeah, maybe. I mean he did see that woman at the foot of his bed." I said as Dean picks up a sheet of paper lying on the desk. "Take a look at this." He said amd Sam takes the paper, which contained small-font printing of the word "danashulps" repeated over and over to fill the page.
"Dana Shulps. A name?" Sam asked as I find another paper. "I dunno, but it's everywhere." I said and Dean grins. "Well, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." He said and I roll my eyes.
Sam shines his flashlight down on the glass table in front of him, pausing. He breathes on the glass, revealing the same letters "DANASHULPS" impressed in the surface. "Wow. I'd say we've officially crossed over into weird." Sam said. "Maybe Giles knew her." Dean said, shrugging. "Or maybe it's the name of our pale red-eyed mystery girl." I said to him. "Well. Let's see what we can see." Dean said.
Later, we become frustrated, having found nothing after searching through all accessible paper and computer files in the office. Sam and I are on our desktop computers. "There's not a single mention of a Dana Shulps anywhere. There's not a D. Shulps. Or any other kind of friggin' Shulps." Dean said, frustrated.
"Great." Sam mutters as I shake my head. "What have you guys got?" Dean asked. "Nothing." I said, raising my hands up then dropping them. "Same here. No Dana Shulps has ever lived or died in Baltimore in the last fifty years at least." Sam said. "So what now?" Dean asked.
"Well, I think I'm pretty close to cracking Giles' password. Maybe there's something in his personal files, you know?" said Sam. "By close you mean..." Dean said. "Thirty minutes, maybe?" Sam said, shrugging, and Dean glances at his watch. "Awesome. So I guess I just get to, uh, hang out." He said then he goes to sit on the bed while Sam and I work on the computer.
Then Dean starts making clicking and mouth-fart noises, which annoyed me and Sam as well. "Dude, seriously." Sam exclaims as I look over at him. "All right, I'm gonna go talk to Karen again, see if she knows anything about this Dana Shulps, huh?" Dean said. "Great." I said as Dean gets up.
"Keep going, Sparky." Dean said and he leaves while I shake my head.
*3rd Person POV*
Present Day
"Then Dean went back to Karen's place to check up on her. I mean, you know, she had been pretty upset earlier." Sam explained. "So why didn't you or (y/n) go with him?" Ballard asked him. "I just went back to the motel. And then (y/n) went to go pick hs ho something to eat." Sam said then he thinks for a moment.
"How'd you know we were there, by the way?" He asked. "We found the motel matchbook on your brother when we arrested him. Let's quit fooling around. Now you were with your brother the whole time you were in Baltimore. Why separate now? Because your brother left you and (y/n). To go murder Karen." Ballard said and Sam shakes his head.
"He didn't kill anyone." Sam said, firmly, then Ballard hits the table. "I heard the 9-1-1 call! Karen was terrified. She said someone was in the house." She yells at Sam.
Flashback
Dean arrives at Karen's and knocks on the door. "Karen, you in there?" He called out but no response he looks around, then picks the lock and enters. He tries the light by the door, but it doesn't work.
He goes further into the house, up the stairs and into the bedroom. He pushes open the door and sees Karen lying on the floor in a pool of her own blood, her throat is slit deeply. He sees the pages from the printer and frowns.
"Seriously, what the hell?" He asked as he kneels down by Karen's body, noticing bruises on her wrists. He takes one wrist in his hand.
"Freeze." A voice ordered.
Behind Dean, two cops have their guns trained on him. "Stay on your knees. Hands where I can see them. Now!" The officer said and he complies. "Cuff him." The officer said and her partner goes and cuffs Dean.
Present Day
Sherdian is sitting in an observation room from which he can see Dean, handcuffed to a table. Ballard enters. "You getting anywhere with him?" She asked him. "No. Just a lot of wise-ass remarks. You?" He asked. "Sam's story matches Dean's to the last detail." Ballard said.
"Hmm. Yeah, well, these guys are good. I'll give 'em that. We just need to find that (y/n) girl. She's the missing piece. Have you heard if they found her?" Sheridan asked her and she shakes her head. "If we don't get Sam to flip we have nothing but a lot of circumstantial evidence. Or if we don't find (y/n)...." Ballard said.
"Hey. We've got Dean at the crime scene with blood on his hands. Juries have convicted for less." Sheridan said to her. "Yeah, but, I mean, where's the murder weapon? What's the motive? You talk about reasonable doubt." Ballard said, doubtful. "Diana." Sheridan said and he touches her face after he turns to her. "Do you have reasonable doubt? We keep leaning on these guys, one of them will tumble. And don't forget about St. Louis. I'm telling you. This Dean guy is our guy." He said, firmly.
"I know Tony Giles was a friend of yours." Ballard said and Sheridan's jaw sets. "Yeah. He was, he was a good friend." He said, firmly. "Look, and I know you want to clean this mess up quick. But come on, Tony knew a lot of criminal types, I mean, maybe we're just..." she said, shrugging, but he shakes his head.
"Criminal types? He was a defense lawyer, for godsakes, of course he knew criminal types." He said and Ballard sighs. "All right, let's get back at 'em." She said. "No, you know what? Let 'em stew in their juices for a bit. Come here." He said and he leans in and kisses her.
Dean, still handcuffed to the table, is muttering to himself, thinking. "Dana Shulps, Dana Shulps, Dana Shulps Dana, Dana Shulps..." he mutters while in Sam's interrogation room, he pulls a pad of paper and a pen to him and writes "DANA SHULPS" in block letters, frowning in thought.
"Maybe it's not a name. Maybe it's not a name." Dean mutters to himself. "Anagram, maybe?" Sam whispers and he writes "ANDA SH..." underneath the first line, then continues.
Head down, Dean continues to mutter to himself until there's a knock on the door; he looks up. A smiling middle-aged man pokes his head in. "Mr. Winchester?" He said. "Yeah." Dean said. "I'm Jeffrey Kraus. I'm with the public defender's office. I'm your lawyer." Krause introduced. "Oh. Thank God. I'm saved." Dean said, deadpanned, as Kraus sits down.
"Hey, could I, uh, steal a pen from you? Some paper?" He asked. "Sure." Jesus said and he hands over the items and Dean starts scribbling. "Uh, well, the police haven't found a weapon yet. So that's good. But, uh, they got your prints. And literally blood on your hands. And with your police record, uh..." Kraus said but he sees that Dean is ignoring him.
"Mr. Winchester? What are you doing?" He asked. "I think it's an anagram." Dean replies and Kraus looks at him, confused. "A what?" He asked. "An anagram. Same letters, different words." Dean said as the pad of paper now reads:
DNA SHULPS
DAN SHULPAS
LAND PUSHAS
SUPASH LAND
PUSH LANDAS
PLUSH DANAS
"Uh, do me a favor? See if you recognize any of these words, you know, local names, places, anything like that?" Dean asked Kraus as he pushes the paper to him. "Do you understand how serious these charges are?" Kraus asked. "I'm handcuffed to a table. Yeah, I get it. Humor me. Take a quick look." Dean said to him.
Kraus pulls the pad over to him and looks it over. "Well, S-U-P, I don't know about that, but Ashland is a street name. Not far from here." He said. "A street." Dean said then he takes the pad back, tears off a sheet of paper and starts writing again.
"Let's start with where you were the night Anthony Giles died." Kraus said then Dean turns to him. "Can you get in to see my brother?" He asked. "Mr. Winchester, you could be facing the death penalty here." Kraus said, warningly. "Hey, thanks for the law review, Matlock. But. If you want to help me..." Dean said then he holds up the folded note he's just finished. "I need you to see my brother." He said.
Sam looks at the note Dean sent him, which reads:
HILTS —
IT'S A STREET
ASHLAND.
-MCQUEEN
"I hope that's meaningful. But I'd like to discuss your case now." Kraus said and Sam gestures to the chair. "Sure thing, Matlock." He said and Kraus rolls his eyes. "You two really are brothers, aren't you?" He mutters as he sits down. "Now. As you know, the DA might be interested in..." he said when there was a knock on the door, which was quickly followed by Ballard, who addresses Kraus.
"We need you. With the other one." She said to him, firmly.
Several others have crowded into the observation room outside where Dean is being held; across from his seat a digital camera has been set up. Ballard and Kraus enter. "Counselor? Your boy decided to confess." Sheridan said and Kraus turns to Dean.
"Mr. Winchester? I'd advise against that strongly." He said but Dean ignores him. "Talk directly into the camera, first stating your name for the record." Sheridan said to Dean, who clears his throat and leans forward, looking into the camera.
"My name is Dean Winchester. I'm an Aquarius. I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky women. And I did not kill anyone. But I know who did. Or rather what did. Of course it can't be for sure, because our investigation was interrupted. But our working theory was that we're looking for some kind of vengeful spirit." He said and Ballard looks at him, confused.
"Excuse me?" She said as Dean continues. "You know, Casper the bloodthirsty ghost?" He asked while in the observation room, the spectators start laughing. "Tony Giles saw it. I'll bet you cash money Karen did too. But see, the interesting thing is the word it leaves behind. For some reason it's trying to tell us something. But communicating across the veil, it ain't easy. You know, sometimes the spirits, they, they get things jumbled. You remember REDRUM. Same concept. You know, it's, uh, maybe word fragments... other times, it's anagrams. See, at first we thought this was a name, Dana Shulps. But now we think it's a street. Ashland. Whatever's going on, I'll bet you it started there." Dean said then he spreads his hands and smiles.
"You arrogant bastard. Tony and Karen were good people, and you're making jokes." Sheridan said, angrily. "I'm not joking, Ponch." Dean said. "You murdered them in cold blood just like that girl in St. Louis." Sheridan growled. "Oh, yeah. That wasn't me either. That was a shape-shifter creature that only looked like me." Dean replied as he smiles at the camera.
Sherdian loses his temper and hauls Dean up by the collar, slamming him against the wall. "Pete, that is enough!" Ballard yells.
"You asked for the truth." Dean said as Sheridan glares at him then let's him go. "Lock his ass up." He orders as another cop takes over, shoving Dean face-first against the wall and handcuffing him.
Sherdian and Ballard return to the other room only to find Sam gone; the coffee and the note are still on the table. "What the hell? Where is he?" Sheridan asked as he goes to the window, which is open, and looks out.
Ballard sees the note on the table and picks it up. "What'd he do? The fire escape's way over there. I bet that (y/n) girl came in and...what?" Sheridan said as he looks at Ballard.
"These two guys." She said and she hands him the note. "Hilts and McQueen?" He said, confused. "Hilts is Steve McQueen's character in the Great Escape." Ballard explains and Sheridan growls as he crumbles the paper in his hand.
Ballard enters the bathroom and the lights flicker. She sighs. As she approaches the sink, it turns on by itself. She recoils then all the faucets start pouring out hot water, steam rising.
In the fogging mirror the letters DANASHULPS are formed; Ballard scrubs them away to reveal a ghost. Her throat is slit deeply, her eyes deep red. She struggles to talk while Ballard is too shocked to speak.
Dean was handcuffed to another table as Ballard enters, nervous. Then she shuts the door. "Can we make this quick? I'm a little tired, it's been a long day, you know, with your partner assaulting me and all." Dean grumbles as Ballard looks over at him. "I want to know more about that stuff you were talking about earlier." She said and Dean looks up at her.
"Time Life. Mysteries of the Unknown. Look it up." He said. "Let's pretend for the moment you're not entirely insane." She said and Dean hums at this. "What would one of these things be doing here?" She asked. "A vengeful spirit? Well, they're created by violent deaths. And then they come back for a reason, usually a nasty one. Like revenge on the people that hurt 'em." Dean explains.
"And uh, these, they're capable of killing people?" She asked as she rubs her neck. Dean then notices something on her wrist. "Where did you get that?" He asked her. She pulls up her sleeves to reveal deep bruises. "I don't know. It, it wasn't there before." She said, scared and confused.
"You've seen it, haven't you? The spirit?" Dean asked and she looks back at him. "How did you know?" She asked. "Because Karen had the same bruises on her wrists. And I'm willing to bet that if you look at Giles' autopsy photos he's got 'em too, it's got something to do with this spirit, I...I don't know what." Dean said and Ballard turns away, looking into the mirror. "I know. You think you're going crazy. But let's skip that part, shall we? Because the last two people who saw this thing? Died, pretty soon after. You hear me?" He said to her.
"You think I'm going to die." She said. "You need to go to Sam and (y/n). They'll help." Dean said and Ballard turns to him. "You're giving your brother and your friend up." She said. "Go to the first motel listed in the yellow pages. Look for Jim Rockford or Olivia Benson- it's how we find each other when we're separated. Now you can arrest them if you want. Or you can let them save your life." Dean said as the two stare at each other.
*(y/n)'s POV*
Sam and I were sitting at a motel desk, going through the files of the case. Ever since the cops came and arrested Sam and Dean, I had been hiding among the town which I can tell you it was really hard. I had even went into the impound lot and found the Impala and snuck it out of the lot.
At one point, I saw Sam running along the street and I stopped him and told him to hop in. He got in and we went into a different hotel and tried to figure this case out.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. I looked over at Sam then I get up, slowly, and open it to find a woman, wearing a formal suit, standing there, looking scared but also surprised. "(Y/n), I presume." She said to me. "And you must be Officer Ballard." I said and she nods. "You here to arrest us?" I asked her as Sam comes up next to me. She shakes her head and shrugs and I nod and let her in.
After she explained herself, she shows us her wrists. "These showed up after you saw it?" Sam asked her. "Yeah, I guess." She said. "All right. You're going to have to tell us exactly what you saw." I said to her, firmly. "You know, I must be losing my mind. You're a fugitive." She said as she points at Sam then she turns to me. "You're a person of interest. I should be arresting you two." She said.
"All right. Well, you know what? You can arrest us later, all right? After you live through this. But right now you've gotta talk to us. Okay?" Sam said and she nods. "Okay, great. Now, this spirit. What did it look like?" I asked her. "She was, um, really pale, and her throat was cut, and her eyes, they were like, this deep dark red? It appeared like she was trying to talk to me. But she couldn't. It was just...a lot of blood." She explains.
"You know what? Here. We've been researching every girl that's ever died or gone missing from Ashland Street." Sam said as we lead her over to a table, where Sam gathers up a stack of crime scene photos. "How'd you get those? Those are from crime scenes, and booking photos." Ballard said, shocked.
"You have your job, we have ours. Here. I need you to look through these, tell us if you recognize anyone." Sam said and Ballard sits and flips through the stack. On the third photo, a young woman's booking photo, she stops. "This is her. I'm sure of it." She said and I look at the photo.
"Claire Becker? Twenty eight years old, disappeared about eight or nine months ago." I told her and she looks at us, confused. "But I don't even know her. I mean, why would she come after me?" She asked. "Well, before her death, she was arrested twice. For dealing heroin." I explain as Sam and I look at her.
"You ever work narcotics?" Sam asked her. "Yeah, Pete and I did. Before Homicide." She said and I hold up Claire's picture. "You ever bust her?" Sam asked her and she shakes her head. "Not that I remember." She said. "It says that she was last seen entering 2911 Ashland Street. Police searched the place, didn't find anything. Guess we gotta check it out ourselves. See if we can find her body." I said and she shakes her head.
"What?" She asked. "Well, we gotta salt and burn her bones. It's the only way to put her spirit to rest." Sam said and Ballard looks at us, disbelief. "Of course it is." She said and I chuckled as we start to head out.
We make it to Ashland Street and lead Ballard into a dark and creepy Warehouse. "So what exactly are we looking for?" Ballard asked us. "We'll let you know when we find it." Sam said and we split up. I checked up a flight of stairs for a few moments when I heard Ballard shout. "Sam? (Y/n)? Guys!"
I run down the stairs and meet up with Sam as we go over to Ballard. "Hey! Hey, we're here." Sam said to her as we come up to her as she looks ahead of herself in fear. "What is it? What happened?" I asked her. "Claire..." she said.
"Where?" Sam asked her. "She, she was here." Ballard said as she points in front of her. "Did she attack you?" I asked her. "No. No, she was just like, reaching out to me. She was over there by the window." She said and she points at the window, which is blocked by a shelving unit.
"Here, help me move this, Sam." I said to Sam and he nods and we shove the shelves aside, revealing the window. It is labeled from the outside: Ashland Supplies.
"Our little mystery word." Ballard said as we turn to see a shadow on the opposite wall, casting the words into clear reflection. "Now the extra letters make sense." Sam said and he pulls out his EMF reader and approaches the opposite wall.
"What is that?" Ballard asked. "Spirits and certain remains give off electromagnetic frequencies." I explained to her. "So if Claire's body was here, that would indicate that?" She asked. "Yeah. Well, that's the theory." Sam said and the EMF reader purrs as he waves it over the brick wall. He turns to us.
Sam and I start breaking through the wall with a couple of sledgehammers while Ballard stood back out of harm's way. When we knock out a sizable hole, I poke my flashlight inside and look. "Yeah. Yeah, there's definitely something in there." I said and we start breaking through the wall with our elbows and fists.
"You know? This is bothering me." Sam said. "Well, you two are digging up a corpse." Ballard said and I chuckled. "No, not that. That's, uh, that's pretty par for the course, actually." Sam said, smiling. "Then what?" Ballard asked. "It's just, I mean, no vengeful spirit we've ever tussled with wanted to be wasted, so why the hell would Claire lead us to her remains? It doesn't make any sense." Sam said as we break open most of the wall.
Together, we pulled out a shroud-wrapped body and place it on the ground. I pull out a pocket knife and cut the ropes holding the shroud together, uncovering Claire's body. Ballard holds out her wrists to see that they matched the way the ties were around Claire's wrist. "Her wrists. Yeah, they'd be bruised just like yours?" Sam said when Ballard kneels down and notices a necklace on the corpse and touches it cautiously.
"That necklace mean something to you?" I asked her. "I've seen it before. It's rare. It was custom made over on Carson street." She said as she reaches into her neckline and pulls out the same necklace. "I have one just like it. Pete gave it to me." She said and my jaw drops a bit.
"Now this all makes perfect sense." I said as Sam nods. "I'm sorry?" She asked. "Yeah. You see, Claire is not a vengeful spirit, she's a death omen." Sam said to her.
"Excuse me?" Ballard said, confused. "Claire's not killing anyone. She's trying to warn them. You see, sometimes spirits, they don't want vengeance, they want justice. Which is why she led us here in the first place. She wants us to know who her killer is." I explain then Sam stares at her.
"Detective, how much do you know about your partner?" He asked. She thinks for a moment before a look of realization comes over her face. "Oh my God." She whispers.
"What?" Sam and I asked her. "About a year ago, some heroin went missing from lockup. Obviously it was a cop. We never found out who did it. But whoever did it would need someone to fence their product." She said. "Someone like a heroin dealer. Somebody like Claire." I said and she looks at us shocked.
I drive the Impala as I follow Sam and Ballard to this forest area. Sam had called me and told me they were looking for Pete as he had taken Dean and was gonna transfer him to a different prison, by himself. Which means he was planning something.
We get out of the cars and run into the woods to see Pete had Dean down on the ground, his gun aimed at him. "Or maybe you do." He said once he cocks his gun.
"Pete! Put the gun down." Ballard ordered as she holds her gun up at him and Sam and I come up to her. "Diana? How'd you find me?" Pete asked her, shocked. "I know about Claire." Ballard said. "I don't know what you're talking about." He said, acting dumb.
"Put the gun down!" Ballard ordered. Oh, I don't think so. You're fast. I'm pretty sure I'm faster." Pete said as he continues to aim the gun at Dean, who looks over at me and Sam.
"Why are you doing this?" Ballard asked him. "I didn't do anything, Diana." Pete said. "It's a little late for that." Ballard said and Pete stares at her before he let's out a sigh. It wasn't my fault. Claire was trying to turn me in, I had no choice." He said.
"And Tony? Karen?" Ballard asked him. "Same thing! Tony scrubbed the money, he got skittish, and then he wanted to come clean. I'm sure he told Karen everything." Pete exclaims as Dean glances at us, as I give him how do we get out of this look. Dean shakes his head and I rolled my eyes at this.
"It was a mess; I had to clean it up. I just panicked." Pete said. "How many more people are gonna die over this, Pete?" Ballard asked. "There's a way out. This Dean kid's a friggin' gift. We could pin the whole thing on him. Right? No trial, nothing. Just, just one more dead scumbag." Pete said and Dean looks up at him. "Hey!" He said, offended, as he starts to stand up but Pete raises the gun and Dean backs off.
"No one will question it. Diana, please. I still love you." Pete said to Ballard, who starts to lower her gun. "Thank you. Thank you." He said, appreciatevly. As he turns back to Dean, Ballard brings her gun up and fires, hitting Pete in the stomach. He goes down and Dean rolls out of the way.
"Then why don't you buy me another necklace, you ass?" Ballard asked, angrily. Pete tackles her legs, knocking her down and she loses her gun. Sam and I try to go for it, but Pete gets there first. "Don't do it! Don't do it!" He warns us but then a gunshot goes off. Pete falls down, revealing Ballard shot him in the back.
After uncuffing Dean, Ballard was kneeling by the body of her late partner. She gets up and approaches us as we were standing nearby. "You doin' all right?" I asked her. "Not really. The death omen Claire. What happens to her now?" She asked her. "Should be over. She should be at rest." Sam said to her.
"So, uh. What now, officer?" Dean asked her. "Pete did confess to me. He screwed up your cases royally. I'd say that there's a good chance that we could get your cases dismissed." She said to us. "You'd take care of that for us?" Sam asked, shocked. "I hope so. But the St. Louis murder charges? That's another story. I can't help you. Unless...I just happened to turn my back, and you walked away. I could just tell them that the suspects escaped." She said.
"Wait, are you sure?" I asked her. "Yeah, she's sure, (y/n)." Dean said. "No, it's just, I mean, you could lose your job over something like that." I said to Ballard as she looks down. "Look, I just want you guys out there doing what you do best. Trust me, I'll sleep better at night." She said and she turns to go. "Listen, you need to watch your back. They're gonna be looking for both of you right now. Get out of here. I gotta radio this in." She said and the boys and I share a look.
"Oh, uh, do you know where my car is?" Dean asked but I placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, I got her, the car is just down the road." I said to him and he smiles at me. "How did you manage to get it out of the impound?" Ballard asked as she turns to me, curiously.
I smiled at her. "I've got my ways." I said and I look at the boys and gestures for us to leave and we walk off down the road. "Nice lady." Sam said. "Yeah, for a cop. Did she look familiar to you?" Dean asked us. "No, why?" Sam and I said as Sam shoves Dean, playfully.
"I don't know. Anyway, are you guys hungry?" Dean asked us. "No." Sam said as I shake my head. "For some reason I could really go for some pea soup." Dean said and I laugh as we get into the car and I hand the keys to Dean and we take off.
#fandom#fanfic#fan fiction#reader insert#x reader#supernatural#dean winchester#dean winchester x you#dean x you#supernatural dean#dean winchester x reader#dean x reader#deanwinchtser#dean winchester imagine#supernatural fanfic series#supernatural fandom#supernatural fanfiction#tv show fandom#tv shows#horror#fantasy
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True enemy: Part 2
Part 1
Warning: violent death. Not exactly detailed, but if you think this could trigger you, please do not interact.
***
"You should battle someone more suited to you," Villain snarls. A smile is the only response they get as the old supervillain circles them.
"And who is that supposed to be? You?" he asks, stopping Hero's attempted attack with a slight movement of one hand. "I've heard otherwise."
His tone is sarcastic as he crushes Hero against a concrete wall. "What, do they mean something to you? Sorry, I like crushing the bugs that get under my feet." With that, they smash Hero against the floor.
Villain watches them coughing blood, their own blood boiling in their veins. They charge, placing themselves in front of the Hero. "Let. Them. Go."
"Or what?" Their nemesis smiles wider than before when Hero gets up again. "Stupid, but stubborn. Wonder if that's what you find charming in them?"
Villain turns to Hero, allowing themselves to be thrown back too. They grab Hero's arm, pulling them behind a column. "Stay back." Hero shakes their head.
"Hero, listen to me." They look up as Villain cups their face with both trembling hands. They're so warm Hero has to suppress a low groan. "You can't handle him."
"I know that better than anyone," Hero chuckles, frowning when the action sends a jolt of pain through their beaten and battered body. "Doesn't mean I'll go down without a fight."
"I've got this," Villain assures, not knowing how to fit the whole story in a remaining couple of seconds. "Trust me, I've got this. Stay back."
They step away, but Hero grasps their wrist, their bright eyes clouded. "I won't leave you alone. I can't."
Villain graces them with a fond smile. This right here is the reason they fell for Hero that quickly and irreversibly. "And I can't watch you die."
They barely manage to finish the sentence when a hand wraps around Hero's throat, squeezing tight and lifting them off the ground.
"Let them go." Villain demands again. Hero struggles as much as they can, but their enemy is much stronger than anyone they've had to face. That they know of, that is. "I said let them go. I'm not gonna repeat it again."
Red floods Villain's eyes when their nemesis throws Hero to the side. They curl their fingers into fists, taking several deliberate breaths upon seeing Hero sag on the cold ground.
"You were the only one to ever defeat me," the wannabe supervillain notes, way too pleased with himself to pay attention to anything that's happening around them. And around them, things are happening indeed, concrete breaking and rebar melting under Villain's gaze. "Should've killed me when you had the chance."
"I will," Villain assures him, releasing the pent-up rage into waves of ravaging heat. Their enemy's screeching fills the air as they watch patches of skin and flesh burn off to their bones. "Should've let them go when I asked you nicely,"
Villain allows a fatal wave of heat to pass through his heart, stopping it. As their rage subsides, back comes the panic. They frantically search the area, locating Hero and rushing to them. "Hey, hey hey," they lift Hero's head off the ground, placing it in their lap and brushing the unruly curls off their forehead. "You can't die. You hear me? You can't..."
"I'm not dying, I'm resting," Hero groans, making Villain yelp and jump back. They watch Hero pull themselves up and lean against a wall, not letting them out of their sight. "You coulda told me you were a goddamn abomination in hiding, you know?"
"God, you scared the life out of me," Villain grabs their chest for good measure. Their heart is indeed racing.
"I did? You just destroyed the strongest villain in the history of existence." Hero pushes up on their hands, but their knees give in. Villain catches them before they hit the ground.
"Wrong. I'm the strongest villain in the history of existence. You're lucky I like you." And no, they aren't boasting. It's a fact. One they weren't exactly comfortable with before. One they are grateful for now.
"I think I'm lucky you're a good person." Hero chuckles, wrapping an arm around Villain's neck and watching them jump off the building. Flying to a hospital, they assume.
"Offensive much?" the joking retort makes Hero laugh. Ouch. That hurts. "Anyways, I gotta go back to jail once I drop you off."
"Next time you escape," Hero starts, making eye contact. Villain can't help the grin that stretches their lips when they hear the proposition. "Take me to dinner to discuss world safety or whatever else you're into."
Part 1
Masterlist
#villain x hero#hero and villain#hero x villain#villain#hero#villain and hero#hero/villain#villain/hero#villains and heroes#strong villain#hero is a sunflower#quite literally#only 2 parts#writing#creative writing#writeblr#writers on tumblr#female writers#women writers#sunnynwanda#requests open
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Okay so I’m wondering could you write a little something for Percy where the reader gets hit by some kind of curse (courtesy of Delilah😈😝) and she’s slowly turning to stone and she like confesses that she loves him at the last second cause like of course she waits and then percy is just such a mess because of course he was in love with her too but never said anything
And then maybe he confesses or cries or kisses her hand once she’s a statue or something to try to true love that shit but it doesn’t work and then grog accidentally knocks her over or something and Percy’s horrified because he thinks that’s the end of her and she’ll be shattered but instead the stone’s cracked open like an egg and the readers fine and she heard everything and this is getting to be a long ask but I think you get the picture 😅
Ohmygod 🤣💕😭😝💔😓 this man is gonna have a heart attack
Cassandra may have landed the fatal final blow to Delilah, but this witch was not done
You could see the witch summoning a last blow of magic before a final bolt was aimed at Percy. Everything moved too fast but slow at the same time.
You quickly moved to push Percy out of the way, the protests of the others buzzing in your ear, until you felt Delilah’s strike hitting you in the heart. Percy’s panicked cries sounded out through the chamber as he caught you when you stumbled.
It was almost instantaneous as you felt the loss of feeling start to spread. From across your chest to shoulders, to arms and legs that were now frozen.
“No, no no no! Why did you—? No! Why?!”
If you could feel your heart, it would have been breaking at Percy’s begging but you didn’t have enough time so you made the most of it.
“Percy, I don’t know how long I have. But…..I love you. I always have, and I always will.”
You quickly glanced to the rest of the party and Cassandra, frozen in horror at what Delilah had done.
“Love him well. He will need it.”
Percy’s green eyes shine brighter with the unshed tears that threatened to burst.
“Not you—not you too! I can’t lose you—.”
You already felt the stone creeping up your neck, just mere seconds before it was over.
“Percy, live a life for yourself. Find someone who will—.” Your words were cut short as the stone consumed you completely.
Percy’s anguished cry echoed throughout the chamber as he crumbled next to you. Still holding onto your stone hand he buried his head into it with broken teary murmurs of “I’m sorry, I love you.”
Frantically looking to help his friends, Grog searched through the bag for any of the elixirs or potions that could help.
“Percy maybe we could try—.” He meant well, but Grog bumping into the statue of you along with Percy almost set the rest of his nerves over the edge.
“Grog wait—!” The statue of you hit the floor with a resounding “thud!” as pieces chipped away at you.
For a while, Percy thought the last of his sanity slipped away until he saw a tuft of your hair peeking out. The rest of the stone was beginning to crack and he saw peeks of your skin.
“Quick, everyone help me! Please!”
The rest pitched in to help pick away at the pieces until the cracked stone was pushed away. You opened your eyes in amazement and shock, along with a deep breath. Percy choked on his relief as you were pulled into a bone-crushing hug
“I almost thought I lost you.”
Back at the home they were rewarded, Pike let out a deep sigh of relief at the sight of her friends. Her eyes wandered over to the sight of you and Percy huddled close together. His face buried into the crook of your neck as he held onto you tightly to his side.
“What happened to him?”
You all spoke in unison. “Don’t ask.”
#critical role#inbox requests#my writing#fanfic#critical role x y/n#Percy de rolo#tlovm#vox machina#critical role x you#percival fredrickstein von musel de rolo iii#tlovm x y/n#vox machina x you#critical role x reader#percival de rolo#tlovm x reader#percival de rolo iii#tlovm imagines#percival fredrickstein von musel klossowski de rolo iii#tlovm x you#percival de rolo x reader
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steve teaches you how to drive
A/N: when i tell you how embarrassed i am to be getting my license this late……… the only thing that’s soothing my nerves is that robin doesn’t either which led me to this idea……… head full of steve
Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader (‘her’ is used in reference to reader ONCE))
he is SHOCKED that you’ve gotten this far without a license (and then remembers that he has been driving you everywhere since the dawn of time)
he spends a full hour explaining the car’s functions, letting you sit in the front, car parked, just to fiddle with all the buttons and levers and pedals
“what does this one do?” “those are gonna be your fog lights. but use ‘em in rain and snow, too, okay? not your high beams” “okay. and what’s this?” “that’s neutral. you don’t need to worry about that for now.”
on one hand, you’re completely nervous. on the other hand, steve is a wonderful driver, and you know you can trust him
besides, he’s letting you learn in his car. his expensive ass ‘81 beamer. he’s letting you LEARN in it. the pressure is on full force, babe, so sorry to say it
before you even THINK about driving, he’s patting the dash like “this is my baby, okay? treat her nice” and he doesn’t know whether he’s talking to you or about you
because honestly, he’s not worried about the car; he’s worried about you. he wants you to feel totally safe and he wants to keep you out of an accident
he takes you to the old Starcourt parking lot, and he has this stupid, proud smile on his face when he gets out of the car and saunters around the front
and he whispers “i believe in you” and kisses you quickly
and he helps you adjust your seat, crouching down and saying “good? is that good?” each time he scoots you up and you nodding when he looks at you
“can you see over the wheel?” “mhm” “perfect”
then he’s sliding into the passenger’s seat and sitting all antsy and excited (while also like shaking???? and he’s suddenly so focused and head empty at the same time)
and he’s holding back a laugh because you don’t touch the gas for like thirty minutes, just creeping down the empty aisles, eyes wide and hands GRIPPING that wheel
“WAS THAT A FUCKING SIREN?” “not for you, i promise”
learning that the brake is more like a good song than a bug you’re trying to squash (steve’s pretty sure he has whiplash now)
don’t even get him started on turning and parking
it’s fatal, babe.
“don’t cross your arms” + “pull. pull. PULL.” + “stop. okay, let go. no—turn here. okay” + “over your shoulder. wrong shoulder.” + “this mirror, not that one, okay?” + “give it a little gas, baby”
he’s a very gentle teacher even though he gets a little jumpy at times
needless to say, you hit a couple curbs
but you do get the hang of it, and his stress dissipates because he doesn’t have to direct you anymore and he can see you getting more confident
you actually park really well the second time. like you’re a little slanted in the spot, but you’re still right smack dab in the middle. no door dings for you, babeyy
he tells you to get out, and you’re thinking holy fuck i broke the goddamn car
but he has a shit-eating grin on his face, so excited like “baby, that was perfect” and pulling you against him so you can see your 10/10 parking job
lot’s of high-fives. and hugs. and kisses.
and all that praise, whew: “good job” + “baby,,, you’re kidding, that was perfect, you don’t even need me anymore” + “beautiful” + “shit, you’re better than i am” + “that’s the spot, baby, make her purr, yeah”
i— 👀
i’m so sorry
and this is like a weekly if not DAILY thing
he finds any excuse to get you on the road
and turns out, you really like going downhill
just coasting, not a care in the world. and oh, shit the light at the bottom is red
you get so comfortable, and he has genuinely never been prouder
you get really cocky. like worse than him on a good day
and your gloating is actually very cute (“YESSS, did you see that? steve, did you??? that was insane!!”)
suddenly, your road rage is rapidly developing
“DID HE JUST PASS ME??? WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS???” + “calm down, speed demon, we’re all going to the same place” + “hey asshole, it’s the pedal on the right”
when you finally feel comfortable enough to play music, steve is always DJ, it’s the rules, and he catches you humming/singing/absolutely grooving while cruising
he tries really hard not to distract you, but sometimes on a long, straight road, he leans over to kiss your cheek. or maybe he’ll be like “psst” and get you to look over and then peck your lips, the cheeky bastard
he’s utterly in love with you
TAKING SHIFTS CARTING THE KIDS AROUND :’)
and they DEFINITELY prefer your driving
dustin’s like “y/n, please drive” and steve turns around and looks him dead in the eye like “is there something wrong with the way i drive, henderson?” and dustin’s like “uh, duh, it’s shit. let y/n drive”
all while you’re just laughing and steve’s grumbling the whoooole way
once you finally get your license, he is never driving again and loves it. it’s not his fault you look incredible driving his car
have fun being his chauffeur :)
masterlist
#steve harrington#stranger things#stranger things x y/n#stranger things x reader#stranger things x you#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x y/n#fem!reader#x fem!reader#x y/n#fluff#honestly if he taught me to drive i’d be so much better than i am now#but alas#i am fruity#*
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Okay listen, I got sick while at work so I’m in a bit of a delirium idk the word for it whatever, this is what I get for thinking about Blade. The brainworms impacted by immune system /j
Anyways, I’m wondering again about the extent of his immortality and healing. So we get in his hairpin relic lore that his body is perpetually healing wounds that are far too gone to actually be healed, like his hands. We get this line “sharp and distinct with phantom pain” and then this entire paragraph describing it “Like the incessantly flowing stream of a mountain spring, his long black hair never ceased growing. His flesh twitched and throbbed beneath his skin, like river carps flipping and swarming... Fascinating powers ceaselessly reconstructed his body, bringing an everlasting pain of bones and tendons rupturing and healing. As countless phantom agonies and torments tore through his body, his shattered past was also beginning to come together...”
And yet we still see him like die from injuries so clearly, it’s working very very slowly in his body to repair him. Perhaps when he actually fully dies, that power within his body redirects the focus it uses to just generally keep him alive and heal parts of himself that cannot be fully healed to bring him back to life. Hence why he wakes up so far even if there is a pause, a moment of actual rest and peace before he is alive once more.
Now, again we’ve only seen him die via stab wounds and I have that whole other post wondering the extent to which one of Ren’s body parts would theoretically be cut off and how exactly his body would heal that, whether it heals before the limb is entirely cut off so its at least somewhat connected thus making the entire healing process occur properly even with difficulty or if it would literally grow him a whole new arm like a restoration/regeneration type of situation, or if (this wasn’t in the post but) if the injury is treated so he doesn’t die from blood loss which would be the fatality more som would he just like… be without an arm forever? Until he dies next and his body fixes that? I mean I think in terms of non fatal wounds he seems to have a slower healing like I said and then when he’s actually dead, the body focuses on healing the exact area in which he was fatally wounded. And yeah yeah we won’t get this explored much because Hyv is gonna keep things PG-13 and won’t show us any blood anyways
My actual wondering is, I wonder how poisons specifically affect Blade especially just given how different poisons can act. If it’s a slow acting poison, can his body just filter it out with its already slow healing rate? Would he still die if he was slowly poisoned and only then will his body be cleansed of it? Surely he would actually die from something super fast acting right? I mean we already established that Ren’s body slowly heals him and only speeds up when he’s dead. If he has a poison that acts instantaneously, surely he would die and then come back from it after his body has cleansed it from his system with its whole abundance thing.
Or theoretically, does that Abundance power already cancel out poisons working at all and it has to be an intensely violent way that he dies? Perhaps even in his special case, he’d be an exception where it would affect him and then he’d be healed since we know he’s not like on 100% the same level as the marastruck soldiers we fight due to whatever else is causing his immortality (probably the dragon heart or whatever it is) canceling it out so that they both work in tandem with each other. But anyways yeah like, I need to know so badly the different ways Blade’s power (and in general the power of the Abundance) works when faced with all kinds of different methods of killing him.
Also, I wonder how his body is with substances that aren’t lethal in smaller doses but then can be fatal in bigger amounts, things that when they get to that level are considered poisoning like Alcohol and alcohol poisoning and stuff. Could Ren hypothetically get drunk if he drinks a lot? Would his body just clean it out of him overtime naturally getting him sober, presumably at a faster route than normal people? Would he even be able to get drunk? What I said about his body getting him sober faster, would that even happen if its a non-fatal amount of alcohol or would his tolerance to alcohol be solely based on his build?
I dunno there are stupid questions that will literally never ever ever come up in terms of HSR’s story, we won’t see any of this stuff at least answered on screen but doubtfully at all. I’m just so interested in the way Blade’s healing works and I hope I get some kind of idea in order to explore it at some point.
#he is so full of potential analyzing#from his personality to his past to his physiology#i love him#brainworms about him got me sick tho so /j#is this bc I joked with Pink about bullying him?#is he getting back at me with a vengeance?#...until your sin is cleanse my vengeance shall pursue you...#Am I on the end of that rn?#Hsr#Honkai star rail#Hsr blade
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I appreciate the person who wanted to give Law a treat but I'd rather trick him 👻
Hi hi!! Thank you for always liking my posts! I see you in my notis a lot and i really appreciate the support!! A little more emotional this time? Hmm? But still got some spice at the end! Hope you enjoy!
“Y/N-ya, could you hand me the white box please?” Law was crouching down, meddling with the lower cabinets, his left hand outstretched to you. Awaiting for you to give him the aforementioned white box. You usually helped Law out in the medical room, although your knowledge of medicine couldn't quite compare to his, Law did enjoy your presence and appreciated your help. And you enjoyed spending time with your lovely boyfriend too!
Usually that is, that was until he made you spend more and more time reorganizing the cabinets even though you already did it last week. When you brought this up to Law, he just tutted at you stating that; “I think Bepo came in to rummage around for stomach medicine, it’s a mess now.” Then right after he starts throwing out all the items so he can put them back “in the right order this time.” You hand him the box and cross your arm in a huff, Law didn’t seem to notice though as his golden eyes were focused on getting all the pieces back on the shelves.
You slump against the counter, wondering if you should just leave when an idea pops into your head. You smiled mischievously as you began to lay out the groundwork for your idea. “Law, I’m gonna go to the bathroom, real quick, alright?” Your boyfriend's only acknowledgment of your words was a soft grunt in reply. His hands still working diligently pulling out bottles of pills and gauzes out and back in. You give him a quick glance back as you exit the room, quickly sprinting to your room to get an idea you needed for your grand master plan.
You stuff it under your shirt and wait for a while before heading back into the medical room, not wanting to come back too quickly in case Law would catch on to something being up. You shimmer back in the room, Law standing upright now as he was done with the bottom cabinets. “Ah, Y/N-ya, good, you’re back. I need you to sort this box for me.” You held the urge to roll your eyes, ‘Great ... .another box to sort..’ But you placed a smile on your face and happily grabbed the box from Law as his attention turned back to some syringes in front of him.
You opened the box to also find some syringes inside, ‘Perfect.’ You did some actual sorting of the syringes for a short while, then you started your plan. “Ow!” You pull your hand to your chest as if the box burnt you. Law immediately dropped whatever it was that he was doing and turnt to you, grabbing your hand and checking your vitals. “Honey! Are you alright?! What stabbed you?!” His eyes flickered worryingly from the box of syringes to you. Wondering if the needle that stabbed you was fatal or not.
You slumped your head down on his shoulder, heaving out heavily. “I-I feel weird, like something bursting from my chest.” Law’s hands gripped on your shoulders tightly, he pushed you back so he could check on your chest. “Let me see, it’ll be alright-just-” “Blam!” That was when you pulled out the surprise item you got from your room, a small handmade plush that looked like Bepo. You tore it out from under your shirt and smacked its nose right with Law’s nose. The look on his face, jaw open and eyes crossed staring right in the middle of Plushie Bepo’s beady little eyes.
You laughed out right, leaning into Law, and snorting. Law pushes your hand down with the Plushie Bepo and sighed. Closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Honey….” Uh oh…. You know that tone, that was the tone he used when he’s either really tired or really disappointed. You stopped laughing and looked up at him, his eyes bore straight back into you. His hand reaches out to you and you close your eyes and wait for punishment, only to find them softly caressing the back of your head as his other hand wraps around your back. Pulling you in close to his, Law leans his head down, his nose bumping into the crook of your neck as he breathes in your scent.
His hands absorbing your warmth, finding your quickening heartbeat, he just needed to know at this moment that you were alive and safe. Your heart twisted at his next words; “Please don’t scare me like that again.” His tone was so vulnerable and open, a wave of feelings crashed into you as you hugged him back tightly. “I’m sorry, the sorting was getting boring and- no. I’m sorry, I have no excuse…” Law sighs, his breath tickling the back of your neck. He placed a couple of long kisses on the skin there, letting his lips linger on your pulse to feel your heartbeat on his tongue for a while.
“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you keep cleaning this room with me.” A wet chuckle escapes your throat as you hold back some tears. “Ok, we’re both sorry. Now what?” Law’s hands traveled down your back and hooked under the back of your knees as he lifted you up. “Now that apologies are out of the way, I think it's time I punish you for scaring me so bad.” He smacks your ass once as he carries you out of the medical room and into the lab room. Locking the door as he walks in and placing you on the examination table. Strapping your arms and legs in.
“I do hope you’re ready for a long…long… examination. After all, I have to make sure that there really is nothing wrong with your body after your little stunt…’
#softy talks to you (·•᷄ࡇ•᷅ ) (•᷄ •᷅ ;)#₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎ softy writes#softy write#kazieai#law x reader#softy halloween#the call is coming from inside the house... 📞
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If you wanna break my cold, cold heart...
It’s become very clear to me that I’m extremely lost in The Tortured Poet’s Department which I absolutely expected and it’s no fucking wonder my two hyperfixations are colliding. Because after ugly crying through it the first few handful of times about my own life, I’m now just telegraphing that emotion onto a tv character, which is super healthy.
Seriously though, is anyone else imagining Crowley somehow becoming obsessed with this album while he’s still trying to work through Aziraphale fucking off back to heaven?! Baby girl full on alternately sobbing and manically laughing in the back of the Bentley while Taylor Swift makes him feel hella seen? Compiling his own playlist of the tracks that just strip him raw?
Which, in my mind, have got to be -
“Down Bad”
For a moment I knew cosmic love… / Now I’m down bad, crying at the gym / Everything comes out teenage petulance / Fuck it if I can’t have him. / I might just die, it would make no difference. / Down bad waking up in blood / Staring at the sky, come back and pick me up / Fuck it if I can’t have us / I might not just get up, I might stay down bad…
Obvi the go-to track when he just wants to wallow in it. Just like drowning his sorrows in that pub after the angel was discorporated during the first Armageddon, ‘fuck it if I can’t have us’. Hard Crowley vibes.
“My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys”
There was a litany of reasons why / We could've played for keeps this time / I know I'm just repeating myself / Put me back on my shelf / But first - pull the string / And I'll tell you that he runs / Because he loves me. / Cause you should've seen him / When he first saw me…
My boy only breaks his favorite toys / I'm queen of sand castles he destroys / Cause I knew too much / There was danger in the heat of my touch / He saw forever so he smashed it up / Oh, my boy only breaks his favorite toys
I feel like this is their entire relationship; Aziraphale keeps him at arm’s length because it’s fucking dangerous but Crowley gets destroyed everytime. ‘He runs because he loves me’ - what a devastating thought. They both do, gang, and that’s so sad.
“So Long London”
And you say I abandoned the ship / But I was going down with it / My white knuckle dying grip / Holding tight to your quiet resentment and / My friends said it isn't right to be scared / Every day of a love affair / Every breath feels like rarest air / When you're not sure if he wants to be there
So how much sad did you think I had / Did you think I had in me? / How much tragedy? / Just how low did you think I'd go? / Before I'd self-implode / Before I'd have to go be free
This one has gotta be for those times that he’s ready to fight back a little bit, and feels pissed about how much he tried to keep their shit together. Aziraphale thinks he gave up, he thinks Aziraphale gave up, and sometimes he thinks about fucking off from London too. But he won’t. Hopefully?
“Guilty As Sin?”
What if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh / Only in my mind? / One slip and falling back into the hedge maze / Oh what a way to die / I keep recalling things we never did / Messy top lip kiss / How I long for our trysts / Without ever touching his skin / How can I be guilty as sin?
These fatal fantasies / Giving way to labored breath / Taking all of me / We've already done it in my head / If it's make believe / Why does it feel like a vow / We'll both uphold somehow?
What if I roll the stone away? / They're gonna crucify me anyway / What if the way you hold me / Is actually what's holy? / If long suffering propriety / Is what they want from me / They don't know how you've haunted me / So stunningly / I choose you and me
… Religiously
Baby needs a song about longing. 6,000 years of longing. And uncertainty about whatever they are. This one screaaaams Crowley’s questions about the group of the two of them. It’s so painful. Also, you know, the whole ‘sin’ thing. They spent so much time never touching, but y’all know Crowley feels that guilt anyway. Oof.
ALSO, you know Aziraphale would be wrecked by this one too. I feel like the worst part about the two of them is they're both suffering the same thing, in agonizingly similar ways. They're both carrying that horrible guilt. It's gutwrenching.
“loml”
Oh, what a valiant roar / What a bland goodbye / The coward claimed he was a lion / I'm combing through the braids of lies / "I'll never leave" … / "Never mind" / Our field of dreams, engulfed in fire / Your arson's match your somber eyes / And I'll still see it until I die / You're the loss of my life
More sadness about Aziraphale’s departure. What a shit way to end things, what a cowardly path he took (in Crowley’s mind) after poor Crowley tried his absolute-fuckin’-best to put his heart on the line. Definitely 'the loss of my life.'
“The Black Dog”
Old habits die screaming / I move through the world with the heartbroken / My longings stay unspoken / And I may never open up the way I did for you / And all of those best laid plans / You said I needed a brave man / Then proceeded to play him / Until I believed it too / And it kills me / I just don't understand
Now I want to sell my house and set fire to all my clothes / And hire a priest to come and exorcize my demons / Even if I die screaming / And I hope you hear it
This one is definitely for those times when Crowley wants to scour Aziraphale from his existence but yo, a habit built over literally ALL OF TIME isn’t going to die just screaming. If it can even die at all.
“Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus”
You said some things that I can't unabsorb / You turned me into an idea of sorts / You needed me, but you needed drugs more / And I couldn't watch it happen / I changed into goddesses, villains, and fools / Changed plans and lovers and outfits and rules / All to outrun my desertion of you / And you just watched it
If you wanna break my cold, cold heart / Just say, "I loved you the way that you were" / If you wanna tear my world apart / Just say you've always wondered
Ya know our boy has guilt over letting Aziraphale go where he absolutely could not follow, and I feel like he’d probably spend a bunch of time trying to change a ton of things in his life just to avoid ‘the desertion of you’ but yooo, what cuts right to the core is ‘I love you the way that you were.’ All this poor demon wanted to hear, wants to hear.
“How Did it End?”
We were blind to unforeseen circumstances / We learn the right steps to different dances / And fell victim to interlopers' glances / Lost the game of chance, what are the chances?
It's happenin' again / How did it end? / I can't pretend like I understand / How did it end?
Definitely another one for wallowing. Have I found myself screeching out ‘how did it end?!’ everytime it comes up? Yes. And I feel like a drunk Crowley would too. ‘It’s happening again’ would definitely hit home to him, how many times have they been through this?
“The Prophecy”
But I looked to the sky and said / Please / I've been on my knees / Change the prophecy / Don't want money / Just someone who wants my company / Let it once be me / Who do I have to speak to / About if they can redo / The prophecy?
I'm so afraid I sealed my fate / No sign of soulmates / I'm just a paperweight / In shades of greige / Spending my last coin so someone will tell me / It'll be ok / Please
At some point it’s likely he figures out all of this was definitely always going to happen, right? Little snake has always been at the whims of the inevitable (ineffable), and all he ever tried to do was make his own choices but he’s stuck in circumstances he absolutely cannot change. This one is all about pleading. Bargaining phase, you know. But ‘just someone who wants my company’ absolutely kills me. Somebody tell this demon it’ll be okay.
And so yeah I’m imagining the Thin Dark Duke is just playing ALL of those on repeat forever, until he finally gets to this place:
“Imgonnagetyouback”
Whether I'm gonna be your wife or / Gonna smash up your bike, I / Haven't decided yet / But I'm gonna get you back
I hear the whispers in your eyes / I'll make you wanna think twice / You'll find that you were never not mine / You're mine
Bygones will be bygone eras fadin' into gray / We broke all the pieces but still want to play the game / Told my friends, "I hate you but I love you just the same" / Pick your poison, babe / I'm poison either way
Because you know it’s SO Crowley to be absolutely fucking furious at the end of it all, but resolved to get Aziraphale back under any circumstances. I love him running around with the energy of ‘Whether I'm gonna curse you out or take you back to my house, I haven't decided yet’ but he IS resolute in seeing his stupid angel again. This is as positive as he’s gonna get, and I love that for him.
Did I spend way too much time writing this out for absolutely no reason? Yes. But gang, I have to believe Taylor Swift can reach anyone, even ethereal entities. Joiiiiin the Tortured Poet’s Department, Crowley, you know you want to…
#good omens#crowley loves aziraphale#taylor swift#the tortured poets department#sad crowley#crowley x aziraphale#crowley's sad playlist
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My previous asks about biting is just because i have cute aggression and your works are so cute (usually, one time i wanted to test out how dramatic my mascara was so i read some of your angst, cried) but now that i really think about it? my number one competitor is Il Dottore himself
It's my personal headcanon dottore has really bad cute aggression, sure it's mainly under control now because he's been alive for fuckinf Centuries (for all childhood friends works where the reader is male would it count as old man yaoi- *gets shot*) but with his lover? absolutely out of control
Maybe they're cuddling and his lover's hand gets close to his mouth? eated, chomped
childhood friends reader who has scars on their arms because of how hard dottore has bitten them
it gets so bad that the reader has to give him a taste of his own medicine, he bit them a few minutes ago and now he has his hand by their mouth? EATED (he gets so confused and then Realizes, unbeknownst to you, you started an all out war.)
Make sure to wear turtlenecks during the chomping war because if you walk past him wearing like, a tee-shirt he'll just move the collar of the shirt (or even stretch it, bastard) just to bite your shoulder and then act like nothing happened
after about the first week, you both look like you were mauled by a small cat.
Eventually, a truce is made, so it's not as bad, but you two still bite each other like feral cats.. It's just more provoked rather than "i have to get them back IMMEDIATELY"
So there's not as many bite marks everywhere, mainly on each other's arm and hands now because, what else are you supposed to do if your lover's hand is by your mouth? kiss it? fucking casual. Bite his cheek and watch him go absolutely insane though
some other harbingers who i think have cute aggression but not as bad
The second place is pantalone, he isnt bitey, but he will grab, squish, and tug at your cheeks aggressively if you say or do something cute whole cooing about the cuteness of what you just did
columbina will just, hug and squeeze you really REALLY tight if you do something cute, its hard to breathe but thats ok
the last and (funnily enough) least aggressive when it comes it cuteness, is childe, he'll hug you tightly (not as tight as columbina) and squish your cheeks, but only for a few seconds (unlike pantalone, who will literally make your face numb) he is lime a healthy mix of both of those two, he will get bitey however. - 🎈 pspsp smooches cmere i promise i wont bite you (lying)
🎈 ANON?? HELP IM SORRY FOR MESSING UP YOUR MASCARA I DIDNT MEAN TO 😭 (or did I?) But omg, I honestly didn't know what cute aggression was until now, thank you for informing me of this AND I'M GONNA BE STEALING YOUR HCS BC THATS TOO CUTE 🤲❤️❤️😭
I'm just. EXPLODING 💥 Bro doesn't know how to control his biting strength too so he ends up drawing blood sometimes 😔 (But it's okay since it's Dottore) I bet people assume the scars you have are from something cool like battles but nope... you got BIT by a human, multiple times at that. The first time it happened you probably let out a little scream because he's literally nomming on you unprompted and... you've never met anyone who does that 😨 I wonder if he even has an explanation for it or he just... does it? He just wants to bite you and he will, you can't stop him😭🙏
I mean, you get used to the random bitings, but if there's one thing about you, is that you will put him in his place if need be! If Dottore thinks he can just go on ranting about his research after fatally biting you, he's wrong 😒 He starts waving his hands around in excitement and you know what. Bitten. Nom-nom. Congrats. This is one of the very few times Dottore's rendered speechless. (Worst mistake of your life.) You know how regular couples give each other good morning/night kisses? Well Zandik does something like that... he just bites you unprovoked instead. It's the absolute worst during the Akademiya because you're sweating so hard trying to cover all of your skin but also trying to avoid getting nipped on the neck by that irritating deadly scholar 🫠 He is so nonchalant about it too 😒 But you're not. As soon as you land a bite you're grinning so hard and he's just like 😐 Ehehe... pretending to kiss his cheek and then nibbling on it and giving it a lil bite... I'm evaporating... i love the little love bites <3
THE PANTALONE ONE IS SOOO TRUEEE AWWW 😭🥺🥺🥺 I see him as very touchy so omggg him squishing your cheeks is so cute 😭 You would just be talking and saying something unintentionally adorable to him and all of a sudden he's cupping and then squishing your cheeks all while going on about how cute his darling is, and your words are now getting all garbled up 😔 it's A NEED. (Then he'll kiss your cheeks so gently if you get pouty cuz he pulled too hard :(( <3)
100% agreed on Bina she is. A MONSTER. when it comes to those hugs, you may faint if you don't build up some resistance to it. You can try to do it back to her but for some reason, she isn't really affected by it even if you muster up all your strength, but she still adores the notion! And Childe... RAHHH THESE ARE SO GOOD!! It's funny for him to be the least aggressive but his co-workers are something else I guess 😭 We love a king who's so affectionate but also won't kill you with it 🤭 I imagine if you return it he would be so flattered...especially if you're strong enough to actually keep him from leaving your hug. Now that's the good stuff.
🎈 anon 😳 you can bite me if you want, I don't mind 😌🫶
#smooches talks#🎈 anon#i will proudly wear my bite marks 🔥#his shark teeth are soooo freaking cute ahh#bro prolly bites harder than a rishboland tiger#the pantalone one really has me swooning i cant#dottore love notes <3#pantalone love notes <3#columbina love notes <3#childe love notes <3
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