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max-is-tired · 3 years

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They can tell you that it’s righteous

Fandom: Dream SMP

Prompt: Kidnapping ( @badthingshappenbingo )

A/N: Aaand I’m back on my writing bullshit, let’s go. I started plotting this fic back in January, so it only follows canon up until Doomsday/Techno and Phil finding the portal room, but at least it’s finally done!

Obligatory tags of people who asked: @deadonmercury @littlecatninja

Warnings: hostage situation, blood, violence, mention of skin melting off, antagonist Quackity, drowning, temporary character death (gotta love respawning), near death experience, beheading.

Read on AO3!!

It had started like such a good day for Ranboo. The sun was shining bright in the sky, the SMP seemed to be at relative peace for once, and there were plenty of grass blocks lying around and waiting to be picked up. So yeah, great day!

Ranboo knew this peace probably wouldn't last long, not with these lands' track record of starting conflicts and trying to kill people on a weekly basis. But when the afternoon rolled around and random explosions had yet to start filling the sky with smoke, the hybrid felt pretty confident that, at least for that day, things were looking up.

The problem was that, by thinking on those lines, Ranboo ended up forgetting the most important rule of the server, the one rule he'd promised himself he would not break, no matter what.

Never, ever lower your guard, especially in times of peace.

He didn't even notice the person sneaking up on him until the very last second. One moment, he was crouching down, happily patting the grass block he'd just placed on the ground and the next, there was a shadow looming over him, the familiar shape of small, feathered wings being the only thing he managed to discern before a sudden, excruciating pain in the back of his head made his vision go white.

Ranboo groaned, stumbling on the ground while his vision wobbled and filled with dark spots. Dark, dirty sneakers stopped just in front of his head, but try as he might, the hybrid couldn't bring himself to move his head enough to look up, the mere thought of it making him wince.

"Sorry Ranboo, nothing personal," a familiar voice muttered, drawing a confused whine out of the kid. After that, everything went black.

+++

Technoblade had been feeling on edge all day -which, by itself, wasn't such a strange occurrence. Being on edge was a given for him, what with the voices in his head constantly chanting for blood and half of the server seemingly having a personal vendetta against him.

Listen, okay, he did blow up their precious country -but only after they decided that a corrupt government was the way to go and, you know, tracked him down while he was in retirement to try and execute him. He felt like the retaliation was kind of deserved.

Still, Techno didn't give much weight to the feeling. He'd learned to never let his guard down after the butcher army, and if someone decided to be stupid enough to attack him in his own home, they'd have to deal with him, Philza, and the small army of hounds living in the pen outside, plus the polar bears. The entirety of the SMP could attack them and he'd be able to at least hold them off enough to get away.

So, Techno spent most of the day chilling, for once, sitting on his couch with a book and Steve curled up nearby while Phil worked on some blueprints for a project of his.

"You keep that up, you're going to end up building a whole city down in that abandoned fortress," he commented, huffing in amusement as the older looked up from the table to glare at him.

"Oh, you shut up," Phil retorted, pointing at him with the quill in his hand. "Do you want the syndicate room to look decent or not? Because if you prefer I can just wing it-" chat cackled at the unintentional pun, much to Techno's dismay- "and have it turn out whatever."

Techno squinted at his friend. "You wouldn't."

"You sure about that, mate?" Phil grinned back, the picture of innocence. Which, when it came to him, meant he absolutely would, the fucker.

"Alright, alright," Techno huffed, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, "leave the old man to his planning, got it."

Phil snorted, pushing his chair back as he stood up. "Now you listen here, you little shit-"

The sound of tapping on glass distracted them from the discussion, attracting their attention to the kitchen window. There, perched on the windowsill, stood one of Phil's crows, holding something in its beak.

After exchanging a curious glance with Techno, the older went to retrieve the bird, opening the window enough to let it hop in. Giving the crow a few pats on the head, he reached for the object, raising an eyebrow when he realized it was, in fact, a folded piece of paper.

Intrigued, Techno watched as Phil opened the message, his eyes quickly scanning the paper before widening slightly in alarm. Well, that wasn't good.

"Mate, I think you might want to take a look at this," Phil called, urgency obvious in his voice and that really, really wasn't good.

Techno sighed, slipping the bookmark back in his book before standing up. Guess he could say goodbye to his plans for a chill afternoon.

Hello, Technoblade,

heard you guys took in a little stray -should have known, traitors tend to stick together, don't they? Well, jokes on you, I've got him now. Get to the coordinates listed at the bottom of this note, alone and unarmed, before sundown, or Ranboo gets it. An eye for an eye, that's how the saying goes, right?

See you soon,

+++

Techno had been already halfway out of the house the second he finished reading the note, Phil hot on his heels.

"I'm not letting you go alone," the older stated, already reaching for his coat.

"Well, you'll have to," Techno countered.

"You can't go in without backup, especially unarmed and not knowing what to expect!"

"Oh trust me, I'll be anything but unarmed," Techno huffed, letting the axe Ranboo had gifted him slide in his inventory. "I can use the element of surprise, I'll be fine. But the second Quackity sees you, Ranboo is going to be in hot shit, and we don't even know where he's keeping him."

Phil glared, his lips pursed in a displeased frown before sighing in defeat. "That doesn't mean I have to like it."

Techno sent him an apologetic glance, quickly fastening his coat on before stepping down the porch.

"I'll keep my communicator on the whole time," he promised, walking towards the stasis chamber and reaching for one of his ender pearls, "I'll get there, grab Ranboo, kill Quackity if I can and the second I text you you're gonna teleport us back."

"Sounds like a plan," Philza sighed. "Be careful, okay mate?"

"When am I ever not?" Techno smirked. "we'll be back before you know it, old man."

"Fuck off and go save our neighbor, you ass!"

Techno cackled, shaking his head as he set off towards the Nether portal.

Save Ranboo!

Protectiveblade

Blood for the blood god

Techno shook his head, pushing the voices back as he forced himself to keep a clear head. He was pissed, sure, but he knew men like Quackity -he'd met a lot of them in his life, and all of them had fallen under his sword. He would be no different.

The Nether travel didn't take that long, and after that, all he had to do was follow his compass towards the coordinates he'd been given. Techno found himself feeling glad the place wasn't all too far away, seeing how the sun had just started dipping below the horizon when he finally stepped out of the forest.

"Man, look who is here, our guest of honor!" Quackity exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear as he turned to look at him. "Technoblade, how nice of you to join us, I was starting to think you wouldn't come, after all."

Distantly, Techno could hear the ocean waves crashing against the rocks under them, the occasional droplets of water reaching the top of the cliff they were currently on. Quackity was standing just near the edge, gusts of wind ruffling the feathers of his duck wings and trying to slip the beanie off his head -all it would take was a misstep, a small push, and he would plummet towards the unforgiving water below.

But what actually got the piglin's attention was the small structure he could see just behind the man, a small, locked cage rigged with redstone dangling well over the edge and above the crashing waves. And just inside of it, slumped against the metal bars, laid an unconscious Ranboo, left with no armor on but his clothes.

"What did you do to him," he demanded, not even bothering to tear his gaze away from the cage that reminded him too much of the day the butcher army had come for him.

"Ah, watch your tone, Blade," Quackity tutted, a smirk evident in his voice, "all I need is pull this lever, and the kid falls down into the ocean. I heard he doesn't do well in water without his armor… we wouldn't want that, would we?"

Techno snapped his head towards Quackity, baring his tusks in a silent threat.

"I'm here, I followed your stupid directions," he growled, barely able to keep himself from cutting Quackity's head clean off like the voices wanted him to, "now let Ranboo go."

The duck hybrid tilted his head to the side, feigning confusion. "And why would I do that, Technoblade? He's a traitor, he needs to be punished as one."

"A traitor to what?!" Techno asked, bewildered. "L'Manburg is gone, Quackity!"

"And whose fault is that?!" Quackity shouted. "Uh? Remind me, oh great Technoblade, who here razed an entire country to the ground not once, but fucking twice? Please, enlighten me!"

"Government corrupts," Techno answered, his voice low and dangerous, "L'Manburg was rotten to its core, look at what it did to you, to Tubbo, to Tommy! It needed to go."

Quackity laughed, throwing his head back as the wind kept howling around them.

"Oh, yeah?" he grinned, throwing his arms open. "Well, that's my old home you're talking about. And if it was rotten, well, then so am I."

Before Techno could even react, Quackity reached to his side, wrapping his hand around the lever connected to the redstone of the cage. And then, still grinning from ear to ear, he pulled.

"Ranboo!" Techno shouted, watching helplessly as the kid plummeted down towards the ocean water. Quackity's laughter mixed with the howling wind, crazed and high-pitched and making Techno's blood boil.

Ruby red eyes settled on the laughing man, filling with bloodlust as the familiar weight of an axe appeared in his hand.

The voices were growing louder by the second, feeding on his fury and chanting for blood. And this time, Technoblade didn't bother holding them back.

+++

Ranboo woke up to muffled voices, yelling from somewhere in front of him. He didn't know what was happening, or where he was -the voices were somewhat familiar, yes, but he couldn't place them for the life of him and as it was, he could barely even catch a word every four, with how loud the wind was.

Normally, something like this wouldn't have failed to send him spiraling into a panic -he hated not knowing, not being aware of his own surroundings or how he got there in the first place. But his brain felt fuzzy, off-kilter, the only thing he could focus on being the dull throbbing coming from the back of his head. Ender, it hurt.

Fighting down a small whine, Ranboo pried his eyes open, pushing against the sluggishness to try and at least make some sense out of the situation he'd found himself in. His vision was fuzzy, but he could somewhat make out two figures standing somewhere in front of him.

One was standing with his back on him, decked in the familiar iridescent purple of an enchanted netherite armor. The other was a little farther away, enough so that to Ranboo, they looked like nothing more than a blurred blob of amassed colors. Pink was very prominent, followed by something red flowing on their back -they felt familiar, safe, causing Ranboo to relax almost on instinct.

"Technoblade...?" he slurred, confused. What was Techno doing there? They weren't in the Antarctic, there was no snow around them.

Before he could properly think of a reason, however, Ranboo felt the floor suddenly disappear from under him, fear shooting up his spine as he started plummeting down into the abyss. He didn't even have the time to make a sound before something dark and cold enveloped him, shocking him awake as he got twirled and smacked around.

A few seconds of shocked bliss passed, and then everything started burning.

It felt like he'd fallen in a pit of fire, the flames licking at every ounce of his skin as if trying to melt it directly off his body. Ranboo opened his mouth, trying to scream as the pain overwhelmed him in the worst way possible, only for something to fill his mouth and throat, choking him and only strengthening his growing panic.

He was going to die. He was going to die, alone in this darkness, he needed to get out, out, out-

Ranboo crashed on the hard, unforgiving ground, coughing harshly as water rushed out of his airways. Cold, frigid air hit his skin, soothing the burns and making the pain a little more bearable. He could breathe. He could breathe.

Ranboo slumped to the floor, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to get his racing heartbeat under control. He had to fight even just to keep his eyes open, exhaustion weighing him down until he could barely move his head, let alone think about standing up.

A white, furry snout filled his vision, curiously sniffing at his face. Ranboo blinked, a startled sound escaping his lips. The dog blinked back, tilting its head to the side.

"What…?" he whispered, wincing at how hoarse his voice came out. Ender, his throat hurt.

Another snout appeared above his head. And then another, and another, the sound of barking finally reaching his ears. Where- where was he, exactly?

Before he could try and come up with an answer, Ranboo heard the sound of a door opening, followed by a sharp gasp and hurried footsteps.

"Ranboo?"

The hybrid squinted in confusion, immediately recognizing the voice.

"Phil?"

+++

No matter what tricks he might have had up his sleeve, Quackity couldn't stand a chance against an angry, vengeful Technoblade. It took him barely minutes to sink his axe through the other's neck, slicing his head clean off and sending it rolling on the ground under their feet. Techno barely watched as the lifeless body slumped down, ignoring his communicator vibrating with the death message as he raced to the cliff. He knew, he knew there was no way Ranboo had survived a fall like that, but he had to check, had to make sure.

Crashing waves and wet, glistening rocks were the only things staring back, destroying whatever hope he might have had. Someone more impulsive would have jumped off, in a desperate hope to find the kid still struggling against the current, but Techno knew better.

The ocean was unforgiving, and for someone like Ranboo, even more so.

He sighed, stepping back from the edge and turning around. Quackity's body wasn't there anymore, having disappeared as the respawn mechanics worked their magic -if the man was smart, he wouldn't dare bother Techno again, not unless he wanted to lose his last life and find out how permadeath felt like.

In theory, Techno knew that Ranboo's death wasn't permanent. The kid still had all of his lives, at least before this, and the SMP would bring him back soon enough. Respawning sucked, though -it left you aching and in pain for days on end as your body stitched itself back together after whatever trauma had taken away one of your lives. It was a painful process, gruesome at times, and one Techno wished Ranboo didn't have to go through.

Especially not when it was his fault.

Ignoring the guilt pooling heavily in his gut, Technoblade reached for his communicator, intending to text Phil to bring him back. As it turned out, however, his friend had beat him to it, blowing up his notifications with hurried messages. Guilt now replaced with worry, Techno tapped the screen, reading through the chat.

[Philza] Techno

[Philza] Techno what the fuck

[Philza] Ranboo is here, he's in the dog pen

[Philza] Jesus christ he's covered in burns what the fuck happened

[Philza] Technoblade you better answer your fucking communicator right now or so help me god I will fly there, find you, and drag your ass home myself

[Philza] I saw the kill message where the fuck are you

Techno blinked, staring at the messages with wide eyes. What?

[Philza] Techno, I know you're reading these, answer me right now

[Technoblade] im omw

+++

When Techno slammed the door of his cabin open, he didn't know what he was expecting. A dead body in the middle of respawning, maybe, with Phil watching over it like a silent guardian angel.

He certainly wasn't expecting to walk in on Phil wrapping gauze around what looked like the entirety of Ranboo's body, the bandages visible for the world to see with the simple shirt and pants the kid was now wearing.

Techno barely spared a glance to the pile of soaked clothes lying on his floor, raking his eyes over the enderman hybrid as he tried to work the surprise out of his system. Fine is the farthest adjective the piglin would use to describe Ranboo right at that moment, seeing how his entire body was covered in gauze and he was holding a pack of ice to the back of his head, but he was alive and breathing and for once in his life, Techno had no fucking clue about how that was possible.

"Fucking hell, kid," he groaned, letting his cloak fall to the floor as he trudged inside the house. "You'll give me a heart attack, one of these days."

Ranboo winced as Technoblade slumped on the couch, still a little dazed from the hit to his head.

"Sorry," he muttered, breaking into a coughing fit immediately after.

"Don't force your throat, mate, you gotta let it rest," Phil scolded gently, sending Techno a small glare. "We're just glad you're okay -or, well, as okay as you can be right now."

Ranboo hesitantly looked up, looking at Philza and then at Techno. The piglin nodded in silent agreement and watched as the kid seemed to slump on himself in relief, the tension leaving his body at once. Was it really that surprising, that they'd grown to care for him enough to be worried about his well-being?

The two men exchanged a worried glance, silent words passing between them. Then, Phil nodded to himself, tying up the last of the gauze around Ranboo's forearm before heading to the kitchen.

"How do you guys feel about some tea?" he asked, pulling down a kettle and three mugs. "I'd say we could all do with something warm right now."

Techno made a noise of affirmation, watching with amusement as Ranboo snorted and nodded in agreement.

Maybe things weren't okay just yet, but this? This was a start.

#dream smp #dream smp fanfiction #ranboo #technoblade #philza #philza minecraft #quackity #blood #temporary character death #near death experience #antagonist quackity #protective technoblade #angst with a happy ending #bad things happen bingo #maxiswriting

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

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Christmas Specials: Longest Night

CW: Internal dehumanization, referenced torture, captivity, brief suicidal thoughts (of the "better than going back" variety)

This is inspired by conversations with @wildfaewhump and @comfy-whumpee - and includes direct references to Morg’s worldbuilding for their Silver Birch storyline, used with their permission and all credit to them. Otherwise, the overarching universe outside the wood belongs to @wildfaewhump.

On the Longest Night, in the bitter cold, the creature - who had been a boy, once, and had never been fae, although parts of him had, and who was now neither of those things and perhaps nothing at all - could run no further.

His wings trembled, clinking the heavy rings pierced into them so long ago the agony of it was barely a faded memory, as he collapsed. Finally shrouded in the shadows of the forest, he listened with little more than resigned despair to the baying of hounds. They were coming, and there was nothing he could do, nowhere left to run.

He'd been caught kissing Laekna, had tried to fly at first, but his wings were weak from how long it had been since he’d taken to the sky, and too many of his feathers were missing after Laekna’s brother and the other townspeople had set upon him, and he just couldn't force them to take to the air again.

His wings and shoulders and back screamed in fury at him for trying, aches ran through his ribcage like bolts of lightning. Every breath was pain, but it was still a free breath.

He would take only a few more.

Would she miss him?

Or was she like Leanisa, and it had only been because he was a monster unlike any man she'd met? Was he nothing more than novelty to any human now, and sacrilege to any fae?

He shuffled his bare feet through the underbrush, the sound of the dogs growing louder and louder. He could hear Laekna's brother shouting, shuddered at the memory of him accusing Laekna of being thralled, declaring the monster a fae who deserves nothing more than death.

His head throbbed at the back where the club had come down, blood trickled down his back where they’d held him for the whip before he’d taken a chance and run when they briefly let go. He left the dogs an easy trail to track, but he couldn’t stop.

Couldn’t... had to keep going... had to-

Finally, even his legs gave out, and he crawled into a hollow underneath an immense old tree wider around than four Killans holding hands, wings that stung and feathers thick with drying pearly red blood tucked tightly around himself for warmth, and waited for the dogs to find him.

If he was lucky, they might kill him outright, or sell him to another traveling merchant. If he wasn't, they'd pluck his feathers one by one to sell, and keep him somewhere, alive, but barely.

More muzzles, to still his thralling voice. More chains to pull his wings out for their inspection, their endless groping hands, their hatred. More hurt, for what he had never wanted to be, but Calon Nie had made him anyway.

The dirt beneath him warmed slowly to his skin, and beyond the protection of the hollow, the wind whistled through the high branches, rustling leaves that felt like a whisper. His heart pounded, his pulse rushed in his ears and temple.

The creature tried to curl up tighter. He could hear the hunters shouting now, soft cries of this way and found a feather. It was a matter of time. The dogs would follow his blood.

He closed his eyes and waited, as the shouting and howls grew louder, for them to come.

The wind picked up, leaves and branches clicking together, and then a smell drifted into the little hollow. A smell that was at once warm and that stung his nose. A smell of old blood and fur.

The monster lifted his head, just a little, and with bright blue eyes with their slit pupils took in a yellow-eyed wolf, shaggy with heavy winter fur, staring back, her head lowered to look at him in the hollow.

Behind her there were others, huffing, nipping at each other, a whole pack gathering into the clearing by the great old tree.

One by one, they turned to look at the bit of bedraggled feathers and tangled limbs in the hollow. Eight pairs of yellow eyes met his own.

The creature caught his breath - and then let it out, a long sigh, in something that was far too close to relief. He was too tired to run any more. Maybe the wolves would kill him faster than humans would. That would be a mercy, to die free, better than life spent tied down.

"Please b-be fast," He whispered.

The wolf's lip curled back, showing sharp canines, and she growled, a low rumble barely audible against the wind.

The creature swallowed, tried to remember, and felt some piece of him threading starsong to find a connection. The words came, not effortlessly, but almost easily once his blood rose to the occasion. "Mharú min glen agaes tepa, diirfiúr," He said, in the language of the fae, of Calon Nie, of the nine deaths it had taken to make him this.

One of them had been a hunter for their own people, the one who had given blood. He feels the words in his blood, beating pearly red through his veins. Maybe it would seem like human blood again, on the ground in the dark.

"Ná list do no fiir mise a thógael ar dtii."

The wolf's claws dug deep into the underbrush just outside the hollow and she lowered herself, ready to come in after him. There was no anger or bloodlust in her eyes, he thought. He could almost feel her, his own predator’s blood calling to hers. "Go raebh maith agaes, a diirfiúr," the creature whispered, his gratitude thick in his voice. The creature uncurled, made himself ready to be taken.

He closed his eyes, and wondered if he would watch from the mountain with the many fae Calon Nie had killed to create him.

A hawk's cry tore the sky above their heads and the wolf paused, raising her nose to scent the air, as the creature opened his eyes, surprised. The hawk screamed again, took off in flight, and the trees rustled louder, the course of the wind nearly insistent now.

A flock of great black birds settled into the branches above them, watching, crying out, caw caw caw. The wolves watched them, intently. The creature had the distinct feeling he had stepped into a conversation about him, but not including him.

The wind blew in a sudden violent gust through the branches of trees. The hunters' dogs bayed, sound carrying so loud they seemed nearly on top of him, and the wolves began to howl in return. Moving as one, they turned away and threaded back through the trees.

The hunters never found him.

The wolves scared them away, their howling the sound of a triumphant hunt, and the creature tried to count the hounds as they barked in return, soothing himself knowing they were all there. It wasn't the dogs' fault the monster had stolen bread. It wasn't their fault they knew how to hunt the scent of his feathers and half the blood in his veins.

The great black birds left, after a while, when the scent of the wolves came again.

The creature tensed, but they crawled into the hollow with him without their teeth bared. Their warm fur and breath surrounded him, heavy and thick. He tried not to think about why they still smelled like blood, fresher now, new. He hoped Laekna would forgive him, if the blood had been her brother’s.

Not that he could ever go back to ask.

In the bitter cold of the Longest Night, the wolves kept him warm, and the rush of wind through the trees whispered, sleep, boy, be safe here.

"Not, n-not a boy," The creature whispered back, to what he assumed was a hallucination.

The wolf from before huffed a heavy sigh and laid her head on the back of his neck.

Boy, the trees sighed, in a sad whistle of wind through the hollow. Killan.

Tears were hot behind his closed eyes as the boy - and he was a boy, even now, after everything - let the wind whispering his name soothe him to sleep.

No one had said his name in so long. He never lost the love of hearing it, even if it was only a dream.

He believed what he heard was a dream.

When he woke, the wolves were gone, but there was a freshly-killed rabbit laid outside the hollow, only a little torn by their teeth. The wind had shaken black walnuts from the trees, along with twigs and branches and he found just the right kind of rocks to create a spark.

Above him, the trees spoke his name, and the deep blue-black of the Longest Night gave way to the pinks and yellows of dawn.

We know you, said the trees. The boy caught his breath again, looking up into the canopy.

“What?” He heard it, clear as day, understood the trees. He could feel the starsong that made the world, everything alive in this wood he could sense gathered together to start a new year, the shortest day and longest night passed, the new pass of time begun.

The trees were quiet, but he heard them anyway.

Be seen. Be Killan. Be here.

You are safe.

---

@quirkykayleetam , @whumpallday , @whumppsychology , @doveotions , @broken-horn , @moose-teeth , @whumpfigure @whump-only , @just-strawberry-jam , @loopylunacy @raigash @whump-tr0pes @slaintetowhump @astrobly @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings

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chaoticallysapphic · 4 years

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the great trial part three

summary: This was meant to be the easy part. The part filled with brightness and love. The war was over and you had the love of your life all to yourself. No more Baatar, no more secrecy and no more lies. But with the calm comes the realization as all the adrenaline finally leaves you. Now you know, this is the hard part.

a/n: shit’s getting interesting as ruins of the empire comes into play. I’m sure it’s not gonna go how some of you may want but this was necessary to help with somethings (which I am totally down to chat about via my inbox after you read this). As always thank you @medeliadracon and @ladyxffandoms !

word count: 5k

The next day Korra returns with a look of defeat, she has a device in her hand and papers that Kuvira must sign in order to leave, all of which state she won’t run away, and if she does they will forcefully detain her and lock her up in prison. You think it’s kind of dumb to have her sign this, a contract won’t stop her if she does decide to escape.

“I’m going with,” you say with your arms crossed. Kuvira immediately straightens up, handing the pen back over to Korra.

“No you're not, you're staying here where it’s safe,” she stares you down as you glare right back. Flashes of that day outside of Zaofu keep her up at night and haunt her dreams. She’s actually glad you’re on house arrest because at least you're tucked away and out of harm's way

“You don’t control me anymore. He’s not here for you to hold above my head, so I am going with you and you can’t stop me.”

“Uhm…” Korra starts, looking between the two of you, “I’m only authorized to take Kuvira.” The poor Avatar has no clue what you're talking about, she’s heard a few rumors from Bolin and even Lin, but she’s too afraid to ask either of you. She wouldn’t be surprised if one of you slapped the other right now.

“But I know Commander Gu-”

“He doesn’t respect you, he tried to treat you like a waitress last time he saw you. If you're there it will make me look weak like I need someone by my side and…” Kuvira squeezes her eyes shut before reopening them. “You almost died last time you were involved with empire business.”

“Oh, so we’re back to worrying about appearances, spirits. I thought those sessions were helping in some way.” You spit out before storming off to the bedroom, slamming the door shut. You hear the sound of them talking as you sit on the edge of the bed, your head in your hands.

That small voice inside your head still rooting for her, the one that still believes in Kuvira is scolding you for snapping but you can’t help yourself. It seems that all the words inside of you meant for her have rotted and turned into venom. A few minutes go by before there’s a gentle knock at the door, you find yourself frozen, unable to move.

“I’m…” Kuvira audibly sighs, “I’m leaving, I’ll be back in a few days most likely…” She waits for you to respond, you want to say something so bad, you want to beg for her to stay but it feels like your mouth has been sewn shut. “I love you.”

The sounds of her footsteps receding before the front door gently clicks shut pulls you out of your frozen state, you race out of the bedroom and into the apartment with some kind of childish hope that she’s still there. But it’s empty, she’s gone.

The rest of the day is spent sitting on the couch with your knees tucked close to your chest, watching the door. You couldn’t talk to her or look at her but the knowledge that she was nearby always helped you in some way. But now she’s gone and it wouldn’t surprise you if she did try to run off, it’s not like there’s anything pleasant waiting for her back at home. You made sure to destroy any type of happiness left in this apartment after that first night.

You eat dinner with the radio turned on to fill the house up with some form of life, stabbing at your piece of fish with a frown. You know what’s going to happen next and you're terrified of how it’ll go. Washing the few dishes in the sink you let out a defeated sigh before heading to the bathroom for a long hot shower to prolong the inevitable. Once done you take your time applying lotion and taking care of your hair before locking up the apartment for the night.

Standing in the bedroom doorway you stare at the empty bed with a pounding in your chest. You can do this, you can sleep without her and live without her. Most likely you will end up living without her if she does what you think she’ll do so you need to get used to the lack of her in your life.

You change into your pajamas before crawling into bed and when you turn on your side to face the wall of pillows you created. Tears gather in your eyes. What are you meant to do without her?

You fall asleep a few hours later after calming down but don’t stay asleep for long, soon enough, like always, you're up and crying as you clutch at the blankets surrounding you. She’s left you once and for all, one final punishment to shut you up for life. It feels like the air is being squeezed out of your lungs as you choke on another sob, images of life without her playing through your mind, and suddenly you're reminded of how much you truly need her.

At some point a few hours later you end up passing out in an uncomfortable position sprawled out across the bed with a pillow clutched to your chest. When you wake up your head is pounding from crying and your throat is dry, you feel like shit. You’ll have to accept that this is your life now.

Dr. Hanika arrives a few days later, news of Kuvira’s temporary release must have its way around the city because she already knows. You’re aware that you look like shit with bags under your eyes and that certain hollowness that has filled you with her absence. The house is a mess as well, dishes left in the sink, dirt smeared on the floors from your garden. You're in three-day-old pajamas and haven’t brushed your hair recently.

“Today I think we should talk about the codependency that is very much present in your relationship, I think addressing this issue and working out a few exercises to help you in the future will benefit you greatly.”

You never really thought your relationship was codependent before, then again most people probably don’t fall apart with the absence of their partner so you can’t argue with her. Even if you wanted to, you don’t have the energy.

And so she helps you make a plan, a list of things that may help you. When she tells you that it’s just trial and error at this point your shoulders sag.

That night you try the first option, soothing yourself to sleep, you light a stick of lavender incense and attempt to meditate which ends up being unsuccessful, but you power through and keep trying before finally giving up and going to sleep.

Option number one does not work.

So it’s time for option number two, you grab a heated water bottle and try to make a makeshift Kuvira out of some pillows before placing that on the bottom to keep them warm. It’s meant to imitate her and trick your mind into thinking she’s here, but when you wake up in the middle of the night reaching out for her because the warmth has since left her side of the bed, you realize it won’t work.

Option number two does not work.

There are a million little things on the list, all of which seem like they won’t work so when your eyes land on ‘get a pet’ a little bit of hope springs to life in your heart. Your dad is thrilled, you tell him a medium dog would most likely be best, so he rents a jeep and drives to the nearest town that has a kennel.

You spend the day as you always do, tending to your garden and trying to distract yourself from the deafening silence. You guys didn’t talk anymore but the sound of her pencil meeting paper or cooking helped fill the air with the perfect amount of white noise.

The sun is high in the sky when your dad barges into the living room as you're eating a buttered roll, in tow is a medium-sized hound with droopy eyes and long, floppy ears. He has bags in his hands full of supplies with the biggest grin you’ve seen from him in a while. The dog begins to curiously sniff the furniture, it’s red fur standing out from the rest of the house. “I saw her and knew she was a keeper.”

He sets the supplies onto the dining room table and begins to slowly unload the bags. He ends up pulling out two dog bowls, kibble, some treats, toys, and a white-collar for her. The hound walks up to the table, her nose peeking out over the top as she sniffs the bag of treats.

“I heard someone in town mention that Kuvira is back in Zaofu, where is she?” his brows pinch together as he looks around the apartment. Your heart drops as your grip on the roll tightens, she’s here, but she’s not here. Did she take your statement to heart and go back to him?

Is she currently wrapped tight in an intimate embrace with him, begging him to forgive her? Have they kissed yet? Is that stupid ring back on her finger? Your mind clouds with angry shouts of ‘you’ve finally done it, you’ve pushed her away and now she’s gone for life.’

“W-What?” The tone of your voice must be enough to let your dad know that she is, in fact, not here because he walks up and pulls you into his arms. You don’t even realize you’re crying or that you’ve dropped your food, which the hound happily snaps up.

“She’s probably just going through some kind of inspection before they let her come back here,” he says in a reassuring tone. You nod. It feels like you’ve floated out of your body as he directs you to the couch where he sits you down before going to make you some tea.

The hound jumps up beside you and rests her head on your lap. She lets out a deep groan before closing her eyes, you're so out of it that you keep your hands tucked on your lap despite it being slightly uncomfortable with her head nudging your arm.

Congratulations, something vicious says within you, you’ve lost her for good. Your dad stays for dinner, he makes dumplings and patiently waits to see if the magic within them works, you offer a forced smile to try and placate him, but he can tell it's not genuine. When he leaves you stand utterly still in the living room, what do you do now?

The hound, which your father suggested naming Lily after the flower Panda Lily, shoves her cold, wet nose into your hand and sniffs. It pulls you out of your self-deprecating thoughts and you robotically move your feet to the dreaded bedroom. Without instruction Lily jumps up onto the bed, wagging her tail as she waits for you to climb in with her. When you tug the blankets up to your chest she flops down beside you and presses her body against your chest. You wrap an arm around her middle and force your eyes shut, this is going to be the norm now.

Two days later the bags under your eyes are gone, surprisingly Lily works. Her body heat tricks your mind into thinking it’s Kuvira and so each morning instead of bolting awake with a sense of dread filling you, Lily wakes you up with a lick on your cheek and a bark.

You fall into a slightly altered routine, now when you're tending to your vegetable garden in the yard Lily joins you, she tries to bite the leaves and even manages to dig a hole that has you laughing for the first time in months. When you eat she lays by your feet and watches with this adorable look that warms your heart and when you read she lays her head on your lap.

You still think about her, but now you think about her a little less. Now you can get through the day without crying.

It’s that evening on the third night of owning Lily that the front door opens, you have your back turned as you do the dishes, but she alerts you that someone is here with her bark. When you look over your shoulder your whole body freezes up at the sight of a bewildered Kuvira as Lily jumps up to try and give her some form of a hug.

“What the fuck.” Lily licks her hand, trying to bite at the wrapped stems which has her yanking it out of the dog's reach. Your eyes land on what's in her hand, it’s a bouquet of sunflowers wrapped in white tissue paper. Your heart skips a beat at the sight. “Why is this dog here?”

Her question rips you out of your frozen state, you turn the water off and wipe your hands with a kitchen towel. “Uhm… Dad got her for me, well for us.”

She seems surprised by your willingness to talk to her. Part of her wants to argue that such a decision should have been made together, but she’s just so happy that you aren’t yelling or saying anything snide. “I got you these,” her voice is quiet and hesitant as she walks over to hand the flowers over to you.

You try to fight the smile threatening to pull your lips up but you can’t stop it, only minimize it into something small, but she still notices. “Thank you,” you reply in a soft, appreciative tone.

“They reduced my sentence to two years instead of three.” Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise as you look into her eyes, willingly. “I missed you.”

Your grip on the bouquet tightens at her confession. “I…” Letting out a deep sigh, you continue, “I missed you too.” Part of you wants to take the four steps it’d take to be close enough to pull her into your arms. But you don’t think you're ready for that just yet.

She stands so still you think she may have turned into a statue. Inside her mind is practically shutting down, your words have caused some kind of momentary outage as she thinks of these last few months. Spirits these last few days were hell, the way things were left ate her up inside. It didn’t help that Bolin treated her just as badly as you did and while she didn’t like the man she knew you two were friends.

“She deserves better,” he spat out the second he saw Kuvira. He was right, you do, but Kuvira is too selfish to leave, to give you a chance at a better life. One where you wake up next to someone who’d never hurt you the way she did, who would never force you to hide or become someone you weren’t. Someone your mother could stand to look at.

More snide comments from the lava bender were sent her way during the trip but the one that stuck out the most was one said right before everything went to shit. “She was willing to die for you but you couldn’t even remember her birthday.”

At least you have a friend, one who hates her guts but one who will stand up for you. At least you had someone to turn to because she knows she never let herself be an option.

“I missed you too,” is all she can come up with and a soft laugh leaves you. Spirits what did she do to deserve hearing that?

“You already said that.”

“Oh.” Kuvira can’t find it in herself to be embarrassed, she’s too focused on you and that small smile, the way you softly touch some flower petals with such gentle and attentive care.

“I haven’t forgiven you, but I’m willing to start trying.” That is more than enough for now. This magnificent feeling in her heart is perfect and the way that you smile at the flowers makes it all worth it.

Time slowly eases on, the pillows stay erected at the center of the bed, and whilst you still won’t touch her, you both slowly begin to talk again. She goes back to making the meals except now you try to help from time to time. You begin to slowly talk to her again during the day, it starts with a simple “How are you?” and has escalated into full-blown conversations.

Working with Dr. Hanika is grueling on both ends. You talk to her about slowly opening back up again but also about your fears, about how you feel bad for holding back because you can see how much she’s trying but you can’t help it. To which she always replies “you’ve been hurt by her, it’s okay to take your time and if anything it’s best to not rush any of this. I’m sure Kuvira understands.”

Kuvira talks to her about many things, mostly about you but also about her trip. Suyin forgives her, sort of. She told her that she’ll always have a family with the Beifongs and admitted she let her down. It was a relief to hear that and it made her feel slightly less awful about herself. Apologizing to Baatar Jr. was hard and incredibly awkward. At first, he wouldn’t look at her and even threw a tantrum about working alongside her but, after she willingly let him test the machine on her, something eased between them.

After admitting how awful she was to him and how sorry she is the hostility between the two washed away. The only problem is it gave him the confidence to try and convince her that what they had was real. When she shot him down for what felt like the millionth time, irritation slowly started to rise within her, she may have snapped and said she only loved you and has only ever loved you. Unfortunately, that made her apology useless, he stormed off, and she hasn’t seen him since.

Korra made her uncomfortable. Apparently, she had recently found out that Asami was the one, and had asked her a few questions about… well loving another woman. She may have even tried to pry and get information on the current state of your relationship, mentioning something about it feeling off at the apartment.

She had to admit these therapy sessions helped because a few months ago she would have ended Korra for bringing you up. All the breathing exercises she was taught were used throughout that whole trip and every time a negative comment was thrown her way she had to remind herself that she was different than before. That the Kuvira they all witnessed last summer is long gone and replaced with one desperately trying to make things right.

Leaves begin to slowly turn orange and fall to the ground in a heap. You begin to spend the days bundled up as you prepare your garden for next spring. It’s been a month and a half since Kuvira’s return, that’s eight sessions and eight weeks of slowly getting used to communicating again.

Both of you are given different tasks on how to properly talk to one another. Dr. Hanika makes you realize that running from your problems won’t help, that shutting Kuvira out will only make things worse. She has you ask Kuvira to do small things for you, nothing extravagant but enough to help show you that she’s trying and enough to show her that you (healthily) depend on her to some small degree.

Kuvira is given the task of making sure to do something with you every day. It’s kind of a task for the both of you but she gets to choose what it is and plans it out herself. The one activity you both end up enjoying is making dinner together, sometimes you’ll chat while skewering meat onto the kebab sticks and sometimes it’ll be spent in total silence, simply enjoying one's company whilst working together to make something.

The one task that has you shying away is touch. Nothing major, just a simple touch on the shoulder, perhaps gently bumping your hip against her own when making dinner or touching her arm to catch her attention. Nothing romantic, just simple and friendly. Something you’d be willing to do to a friend. The first time you do it is after the sun goes down. Kuvira is engrossed in her art and had asked you to tell her when you were done in the shower, so she could hop in.

She doesn’t realize it but you’re standing behind her clenching as anxiety wells up inside of you. It’s stupid and childish but it’s been so long and it’s meant to be small. You think of the simple touches at the beginning of your relationship, her hands brushing your hips to guide you in place or her fingertips ghosting over your bare shoulder. Even then it was romantic.

Releasing your fists you take a step forward before gently laying a hand on her shoulder to help rip her focus away from her sketchbook. The action does work in redirecting her attention but it also has her jumping in surprise, her charcoal pencil swerving across the page as it ruins whatever was being created. She doesn’t even realize it as her body whips around to see who it is. Even though she’s by the front door and therefore would know if anyone else was around, it shocks her to find you there.

You with your oversized sleep shirt and baggy pajama pants with damp hair clinging to your neck. In an act of reflex, you pull your hand back, your eyes wide at her reaction. Neither of you speaks for a moment.

“Uhm…” You bite your lip, “I’m done in the shower.” She opens her mouth to reply but nothing comes out. You touched her. It’s been months of no contact and yet your hand was just on her shoulder, suddenly she’s angry at herself for wearing a long-sleeved shirt despite the slight chill, wanting to have felt your skin against her own. “I’m sorry I sho-”

“No it’s…” Her throat feels so dry. Lily trots up to lick away a water droplet on your arm, you look down at the hound as you gently pull your arm away. She huffs before climbing onto the couch. “Uhm it’s fine.”

Kuvira repeatedly blinks, it’s such a small action (except it’s not) and her mind feels like it’s splitting in half at it.

“Is your drawing okay? It looked like…” At your words, she peeks behind her shoulder, it’s ruined. The uniformed, perfect lines to create a rough sketch resembling a large metal flower has a large swerve of black across the page.

“It’s okay,” she lies. You’ll feel bad and then maybe you won’t touch her again and Kuvira does not want that to happen. “Thanks, I’ll… Go, y’know.”

Spirits if past her could see herself right now she’d be cringing. It’s not that hard to speak! ‘Go shower’ is what she meant to say, but she forgets the word. You nod in understanding as you grip the bottom of your shirt.

“Okay, I’ll… I’m going to sleep.” This entire situation is awkward and you practically race out of there to get away. You're embarrassed and you don’t know why. Once in bed, you mentally berate yourself for being so stupid.

An hour goes by, her showers don’t usually take this long and you're about to get up to check on her when she enters. She’s in her usual long-sleeved dark gray sleep shirt and sweatpants that hang low on her hips. She doesn’t make eye contact with you when she crawls into bed, to be honest, she kind of zoned out in the shower as she replayed that simple moment that hardly lasted three seconds.

It’s silent for a few beats before you break the silence. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.”

Kuvira’s eyes widen at your words, her head turns to look over at you, but not only is it pitch black, but the wall of pillows also keeps you out of sight. “You didn’t… I’m not uncomfortable.”

“You’re not?”

“No, I was just surprised.” It’s quiet again, so she continues, “please, if you want you can touch me in any way you want whenever.” She cringes, that sounded kind of sexual.

You stare up at the ceiling as you grip the blankets. “Okay, that’s good to know.”

You both go to sleep smiling.

The herb garden you have growing inside is coming along beautifully and now you guys can take small clippings from it for meals. Summer has long since passed and autumn is nearly over, it doesn’t get freezing here during the winter but it’s cold enough to destroy any crops that try to spring to life outside and so your time gardening is limited to the shelves inside.

A couple of weeks have gone by since that shoulder tap and each day you’ve mentally psyched yourself up into touching her again in some way. Kuvira has to use all of her self-control to keep from touching you back, this is meant to be at your pace and unless you ask her to, she will keep her hands to herself.

You get a bit bolder, your touches lasting a little longer and the anxiety slowly lessens as the days go on. Now when cooking dinner if you need to brush past her, you might place a hand on her back to let her know you're behind her. Three days ago you pushed back a stray strand of hair for her while she had her hands dirty with oil and herbs as she prepared the duck for dinner. She might have tightly squeezed the raw meat to keep from leaning into your touch but you don’t seem to notice.

This morning you woke up with a thought on your mind, a desire to try something that has you bouncing your leg throughout breakfast. Lily sits under the table in hopes of food to drop as you push your eggs around your plate. Kuvira watches you with a raised brow, a pit is growing in her stomach as she watches you stare down at your plate.

“How’d you sleep?”

Your head whips up at her words, brows pinched together. It takes you a second to register her words before quickly replying “good, great.”

Something’s wrong. Spirits did she say something in her sleep? She feels warmth flood her at the bits and pieces she remembers from her dream, none of it was currently possible with your situation, but she swears your lips on her skin felt real. She probably did say something, she’s made you uncomfortable and now you won’t want to be around her anymore.

Breakfast continues in silence as you both mentally freak out over very different things. When you both decide to get up and start the day you go to grab her plate for her just as she’s picking it up. Your fingers touch and she’s waiting for you to flinch away in disgust but you don’t.

“I got it,” your voice is soft and devoid of anger. In her stunned state, you're able to take her plate and carry it to the sink. You decide you’ll clean them up later after setting them down and take a deep breath. Now or never, you think. Walking back over to Kuvira who has since snapped out of her daze, you stand in front of her. Both of you stand stone still, just staring at one another. The prolonged eye contact seems too much so you rip your gaze away before clearing your throat.

“Please, if you want you can touch me in any way you want whenever.”

Remembering her words from a few weeks ago, you wrap your arms around her waist and pull her into a gentle hug. You don’t squeeze and give her room to pull away if she wants to. For a minute it’s just you hugging her as she stares down in surprise, you’ve since laid your cheek against her chest and closed your eyes. Your hair is a bit of a mess from sleeping and neither of you has gotten dressed for the day but this feels picture-perfect. She slowly wraps her arms around you, hugging you back.

You both stand like that for a while as the morning light shines through the windows and casts a sort of warm glow on the room. You close your eyes and slowly relax in her arms, she’s warm and cozy, by being locked in here her muscles have slowly started to fade which you sort of miss but you don’t mind. This is friendly, right? You’ve hugged friends before, you hug your parents and Bolin and you’ve hugged Suyin. Zhu Li hugged you in the hospital and thanked you for helping her out.

To Kuvira this feels amazing, her heart pounds away as she squeezes her eyes shut. It feels like a million years since having you in her arms. She doesn’t think she ever appreciated it enough, sure she loved it and craved your touch back then, but she didn’t know what it was like to lose you. To have you despise her and not able to stand the sight of her, let alone her touch.

She never wants to let go.

For a good portion of the morning, you both just stand there in each other's arms. At some point tears begin to cascade down your cheeks, this is a small step forward. You're proud of yourself for this and are so happy to be taking a step forward. There’s a lot more to go but you decide not to dwell on that as you simply bask in each other's presence.

#kuvira #kuvira x reader #kuvira fanfic #kuvira/reader #lok fanfic #lok #legend of korra #tgt #the great trial

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dany-is-my-queen · 4 years

Text

Born To Be Yours | Part VIII

Sansa Stark x Fem! Baratheon! Reader (Daenerys Targaryen x Fem! Baratheon! Reader eventually)

Season 1-8

Word Count: 2,165

Note: Leave your thoughts please! 💛

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.9

“I don’t want to leave King’s Landing! What about you and Tommen? No one can separate us! Please Y/N, I don’t want to go to Dorne.” Myrcella was weeping holding you tight by the waist.

“You’ll be safer in Dorne, little one. It’s dangerous if you stay. I promise you I’ll visit Sunspear as soon as I can. They will give you a warm welcome. Nothing bad is going to happen, okay?” You keep saying to ease her worries. She’ll be just fine, you thought.

“I’m going to miss you.”

“You are my sister. We’ll be in each other’s hearts till the end of time.” You wiped her tears.

“Princess Y/N, Princess Myrcella.” Sansa greeted you. Another two courtiers arrived to be with her.

“Lady Sansa, I love your dress! Did you make it yourself?” Myr announced.

“Yes, princess.” She chuckled.

“You should teach me how to do this beautiful stitching. Sadly we don’t have the time.”

“I’ll send you a golden gown as a present on your nameday” She grinned and went off to play hide & seek with the ladies. “You are going to miss your sister.” Sansa said.

“A lot. But I know it has a purpose. She’s strong.” You nodded.

“Just like you. I miss Arya. We had a complicated relation, she was always so annoying and I was a brat. I should have cherished the moments we had together. She’s out there all alone.” With a sad voice she spoke.

“We will find her.”

“May I ask you something?” She doubtfully inquired.

“Anything.”

“You don’t like to be around Joffrey?”

“No. And I’m glad he hardly ever request my presence. We had a messy childhood. I’ve been closer to my siblings since they were born. They brought light to my life. There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for them.”

“I admire you, Y/N.” You smiled.

“Lady Sansa, do you fancy poetry?”

“I do! It’s very romantic.”

“Well, I’m happy to hear that. I made you a poem... you inspired me. Here it goes...

Big vivid blue eyes

Gentler than the ocean sea

Long silky auburn locks

Warmer than a sunset

This a lady, a lady who will own the world.”

You created it the very first day you meet her, of course, you wouldn’t recite it to her when you barely knew each other. It was way too short but it meant something.

“Woah... Y/N I’m speechless. You are so sweet. I don’t deserve a friend like you.” Right, friend.

“Of course you do.” You said. She kissed your cheek the same way you kissed hers the other night. Swiftly and subtly. Gods it felt so good. If anyone was watching they could see how blushed you two were.

“May I ask specifically what the King has in mind?” Tyrion was weary of his sister’s stubbornness.

“You may, specifically, or you may ask vaguely. The answer will be the same.” She nonchalant answered.

“It’s important we talk about this.” He insisted.

“It’s the King’s royal prerogative to withhold sensitive information from his councilors.” Cersei was looking from the balcony to the gardens the longing stare Sansa had on you. You watched with a heavy heart over the younger princess so you weren’t paying much attention. The Queen Regent didn’t like the idea of that kind of closeness between you both. She didn’t suspect anything either, not more than devotion the northern lady held for Y/N. Still, it bothered her you always stood up for her. “That whore should stay away from my daughter.” She declared.

“Why? It seems they get along pretty well, your son loves to torture her. She found someone who treats her right. I don’t quite understand the reason you’re mad about it.”

“She’s poisoning her. Manipulating her. Y/N is so naive. That girl thinks she has her under her claws at her disposition.”

“What you are saying doesn’t make any sense. They are just girls. What harm can they do to each other?

“Will you send her away as well? Maybe you should have considered Y/N instead of Myrcella.”

“You haven’t changed a bit. Still so bitter and distant with Y/N. She knows how to fight, how to defend herself. She’s brave. Just like her father Robert Baratheon was. Only three of your four children are sane. But I’m really curious about this... how can you put one of them above the other? Being so hurtful with your actions and your words, Y/N experienced that. Where were you when she needed you the most?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I love her. In my own way. She’s my blood, and for good or for bad, blood is for life.” Tyrion let out a tired sighed of disbelief. Then he left.

“My friend...” Varys approached you.

“What news, Lord Varys?”

“Your uncle Renly. He’s dead.”

“How?”

“He was stabbed in the heart. Some say it was Lady Catelyn Stark, his own Kingsguard, and others Stannis Baratheon himself. We don’t know for sure.” You knew this was a high possibility due to the quarrel between Stannis and Renly, though it was soon you were pretty sad about the fact he’s gone. He was always good to you.

It was the day Myrcella was leaving home to be in an unknown place. She was terrified, truth be told you were too but you had to remain strong and positive.

“My lioness, I’m sure the next time we see each other you’ll be even more beautiful. Five years, twenty years, we’ll always be the same.” You were trusting Dorne to take care of her.

“Just a bit older. Who is going to stay with me when I have a nightmare or when-“

“As father told me, don’t be scared even in the face of danger. You will never be alone. I love you.” You kissed her forehead bidding her goodbye.

“Promise you will never forget about me Y/N.”

“I promise.”

“May the seven guide the princess on her journey...”

Tommen was sobbing, the septa cleaned his face. You held him whispering she was going to be safe and soon enough you’ll be seeing her again.

“You sound like a cat meowing for his mother. Princes don’t cry.” Joffrey hissed with his arms folded. You were to busy comforting your baby brother to pay him any attention.

“I saw you cry.” Sansa blunted out.

“Did you say something, my lady?” He turned to her.

“My little brother cried when I left Winterfell.”

“So?”

“It seems a normal thing.”

“Is your little brother a prince?”

“No?”

“Not really relevant, isn’t it?” He irritably replied.

“Some people care for their siblings, you don’t care for any of us. That’s why you are so stone-hearted about it.” You kept looking at Myrcella almost gone boat. He gave you a withering look before walking. Sansa was emotionless, perhaps because of her younger brothers, Bran and Rickon. Hopefully, they were alright.

“Come, dog.”

You followed the guards. In the hall, a crowd started to yell things at the King. Tommen was taken back to the Keep while your mother and you stayed close to each other, she held your hand.

“Hail to the King!”

“Murderer! Bastard!”

“Please your grace, we are hungry!”

Suddenly a piece of cow excrement was thrown to his arrogant face. “Who threw that? I want the man who threw that! Find him and bring him to me! Kill them! Kill them all!” Sansa handmaidens were keeping her close. The Lannister guardsmen shielded you and Cersei while the folk tried to get to your eldest brother. They were rioting, it was chaos.

“Move, move!” Tyrion ducked his head. You tried to follow the tall girl but she left your sight.

You entered a big gate to safety. “Where’s the Stark girl?” Tyrion shouted.

“Let them have her!” Joffrey furiously screamed.

Wasting no time you ran to the exit not caring about the riot happening outside.

You entered a short corridor, almost tripping by your feet. When you found her she was on the ground with her clothes ripped off, crying while trying to break free from the man’s grip.

“Have you ever been fucked?” You heard the disgusting person say.

“Take your hands off her!” You pushed one of them and hit him. The other flee and the last punched you in the stomach and then slapped you. The northerner was terrified. In that precise moment, before you kept fighting, The Hound arrived and spun the leader down, then disemboweled him, the second begged for mercy, resulting in him cutting his throat. He first offered to help you what you refused so he could carry the Stark girl. She was in shock.

Now you were in the gated area. You heavily sighed. “The Princess is hurt! So is the little bird.”

“Thank you, Sandor.” He nodded.

“Y/N! Are you alright? Did the assailants do something to you?” Tyrion worriedly asked you.

“No, no I’m fine.” You shook your head, trying to catch your breath.

“That was stupid.”

“Well, Joffrey is a slow thinker.”

“Your mother is going to be so angry about this.”

“I don’t care, uncle. You know it.” You smiled at him and he shook his head in disapprove. “My lady. They will take you back to the Red Keep. I will personally treat your wounds okay?”

“You already have done too much, my princess. I-“

“Please.” She nodded. “I’ll be with you in a few moments.”

You entered Cersei’s chambers, she was expecting you. Both hands on her waist. “What the hell were you thinking?! Are you an idiot? I’ve sent one of my daughters away and now the other is almost raped and killed the same day!” She was all hysterical.

“Mother, your son wasn’t deciding. Someone had to. Without Lady Sansa we’ll never see Jaime again. I’m the only person who cares for the innocent people? I wouldn’t let them hurt her.” You fought back.

“She is not worth risking your life for. You are trying to follow your father to the grave! It’s not about honor. It’s about your safety. I can’t lose you, Y/N.” She argued.

“You won’t.” You walked out leaving her with a mad expression.

“She was so brave Shae! She came to my aid when I thought those people were going to hurt me. She’s so fearless.”

“It was a very silly act. Things could have gotten worse.”

“But they didn’t. Sandor also helped. But Y/N,s boldness is remarkable.” Shae peered at her knowing what Sansa really meant.

You knocked on the redhead door. “I hope it’s not too late. My mother kept talking, I couldn’t wiggle my way out.” You excused yourself.

“Come in. I was waiting for you. Shae insisted on do it herself.”

“Princess. My lady.”

“Goodnight, Shae. She’s in good hands.” She gave you a little smile.

“Did you have supper already?”

“Yes, I took a quick bath too.” Sansa gestured you to sit down.

“I see. Your hair is still wet.” You quipped.

“You saved me. Again.” She began.

“Actually, Sandor saved us. I’m glad I arrived in time.”

“I thought they were going to kill me.”

“I wouldn’t let them. I won’t let anyone touches you ever again. I’m sorry. It must have been very frightening to you.”

“It was. You rescued me. I’m so grateful, Y/N. But your life is way more important than mine. Stop doing it.”

“I’ve heard that before.” You took the kerchief smearing in it some ointment.

“I’m serious. You are very brave. I don’t want you to get seriously injured because of me.” She insisted, more serious this time.

“I wouldn’t blame you. No harm will come to you while I’m around. I mean it. What I wouldn’t do to save you?”

“You are so stubborn. I would have given them bread if I had it. I hate the King more than any of them.”

“I know you would and I know you do, we share the same feeling about him.”

“Oh, gods! I’m a fool! I didn’t notice until now that you are also hurt.” She concernedly acknowledged.

“It doesn’t matter.” You brushed it off.

“Of course it does.”

“You first.” With the fabric, you began to swab her eyebrow cut.

“Auch.”

“It’s not deep. Does it hurt?”

“A little. What about yours?” She carefully touched your lower lip with her thumb.

“It’s just a scratch.”

“Let me clean it.” You found her eyes staring at your lips.

“The-the cut will disappear soon.” She stuttered.

“I won’t.” She looked up yo meet your eyes.

“What?”

“I won’t stop risking my life to keep you safe.” Not only you were doing this for the promise you made to Lady Catelyn, or because it was the right thing to do, not even for honor or recognition, but because you were falling harder and harder for her, you were deeply in love with the she-wolf.

#game of thrones fic #got #sansa stark x reader #sansa stark #sansa x reader #sansa x fem baratheon reader #house baratheon

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detroitbydark · 4 years

Text

Part Four

Character: Commander Fox x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Two steps forward, one giant step back -or- Fox can't win for losing

A/N: You ever want to just press two people's head together until they kiss, like you did with dolls as a kid? wait, you didn't do that? Me either. That's why these two assholes still haven't hooked up. Cheers!

All parts can be found here on my Masterlist

The beginning of the week rolls around with new challenges, the least of which is the lingering stiffness Fox feels rolling out of bed. He wakes before his alarm and tries to work out the aches in a hot shower. He wants to get on his knees and thank the Maker for a private ‘fresher and never having to jockey with one of his men for the last of the hot water. It does wonders to relax the muscles that have seized up overnight. The bacta infusion in the wee hours of the previous morning hadn’t hurt much either.

As much as he’d voiced his displeasure, Wolffe had remained with him until medical had begrudgingly discharged him.

He wasn’t 100%, his ribs were still far more tender then he liked and the cut above his eye was barely fused together, but he knew if he spent any more time under the medics watchful eyes he was going to come out of his skin. His Ori’vod has come to bat for him and helped him back to his room after he’d convinced them to let him go.

The cross-eyed son of a nerf herder had also emptied his bottle of drink down the ‘fresher sink in front of him.

“I hear you haven’t been coping well.”

And just like that they were talking about CT-5555 and the incident and everything he’d have much rather let stew.

vod’kyramund

That’s what the trooper from the 501st had called him. It cut. It bled and festered. It hurt. Wolffe listened as he relived the night in detail, exhaustion nipping at his heels with each word he spoke. But he knew he needed to do it. To say it. He’d never admitted his lingering confusion about everything leading up to the incident to another soul.

Fox had never met a brother with his blaster set to anything other than stun. It was his default setting in any situation. Like he’d always told his men, you can’t interrogate the dead.

You also couldn’t go around shooting civvies without them distrusting you anymore then they already did.

He didn’t know how the blaster had been switched to lethal bolts. He didn’t remember when it could have happened. Damningly, he also didn’t remember reverifying the setting, something he always did before going out. Wolffe was the best set of ears he could have asked for. He didn’t say anything when Fox had to excuse himself to be sick.

Wolffe stayed until he’d fallen asleep, curling into him like they had as cadets during training. When he woke he was gone and so were the other three bottles of stock he kept squirreled away for emergencies. He’d cursed the other commander but knew why he’d done it.

It still didn’t mean he had to like it.

He’d allowed himself the luxury of sleep for the better part of the day, waking for the fresher and to make a memo to have Y/N pull up the incident report involving CT-5555. He needed to read it again if only to prove to himself that there was no other way for it to have ended, to find some sort of relief from the guilt that was gnawing at him.

He pushes Fives to the back burner and begins rounds on his men. He’d gotten the worst of it by far but the boys were feeling it.

Wren and Rule, his kits, both stumbled to the door to greet him with half a dozen questions. The pair had never been parted and hadn’t wanted to start when they’d been assigned quarters. Had he not looked back at their record, Fox would have thought them twins.

Thire has been less than happy to be woken up and Fox didn’t fault him for that, he sported a tender looking split lip and a black eye.

Ryk and Hound had greeted him, each far more chipperly then he felt appropriate. He left their rooms feeling a little disgruntled they weren’t as sore as he was.

He slept through the afternoon and into the evening. For the first time in a month and a half he didn’t dream about Fives.

He dreamt about his Little Mouse, the one who was not really his.

It wasn’t a dream he liked. He was merely swapping out one protagonist for the other in a nightmare where he was always the villain.

Pieces and parts were lost to him by the time he woke but, clear as can be, he can see himself holding his blaster, aiming center mass, as she held one shakingly at him. He’s yelling, the words lost to the sands of sleep, and tears stain her cheeks as she hiccups softly.

“Fox… it’s me”

His finger is wrapped tight around the trigger. Safety off. He exerts just a little pressure as the blaster wobbles in her grip. Something purrs at him, curls around him, encourages him to do it.

“Fox…”

He wakes up as the blaster echoes in his head.

———

0700 on the dot, Commander Fox strides into the office.

You can see the stiffness in his gait out of the corner of your eye. You find something incredibly interesting on the datapad in front of you. He doesn’t greet you and you don’t offer one of your own. An impromptu apology almost spills out of your mouth but you bite the inside of your cheeks to stop the flow of it.

His door slides shut with an almost inaudible hiss and you melt into your seat.

An hour passes.

Then two.

Then three.

Then he’s leaving without so much as a tip of the helmet in your direction.

This was better, right? This is what needed to happen because you could not continue to harbor an ill advised crush on your superior.

But...

This was not what you wanted. You wanted to see how he was fairing. You wanted to help him however you could. You wanted to forget about seeing him bloodied and remember the almost tender smile he’d given you when you’d leaned into him, or the way his hand felt guiding you through the crowd, fingers protectively spanning your lower back. You had spent the day before in bed remembering what his attention had felt like, tending the spark of the flame that grew a little more in your belly each time you allowed yourself to dwell on it.

You watch the seconds tick by on the chrono, the office maddeningly silent as you wait for him to come back. You wait the rest of the day. Fox doesn’t return.

The next day a file request is flashing on your datapad. Your work to pull up the case number and load it to the Commanders’s datapad.

By 0900 he still has not arrived at the office. You comm down to dispatch and they inform you that Commander Fox would be accompanying the Chancellor to the Senate for the day.

Fox hated the Senate floor. He hated it more than he hated being stuck behind a desk with paperwork.

While outwardly you knew all clones loyalty lay with the Republic you couldn’t ignore the times you’d heard the Commander quietly lament the character of the Senators they were tasked with guarding. Very few passed the Commander’s high standards of honor and integrity. Bodyguard duty at the Senate was comparable to slow torture, the only task he’d happily pass on to one of his men without a second thought.

You admired that about the Commander. The fact that he rarely refused to put himself in every job within his men’s jurisdiction from detention duty to traffic tickets, to interdiction. Now though, you find it irritating - even more so when Wren stops by your desk with a cup of caf and a pastry, his bucket balanced precariously across his forearm.

“Yummy treats for a yummy girl.”

You give him a sour expression and he laughs, “come on Mouse, it’s funny. I’m cute right?”

“Not nearly as much as you think.” You make a point of not looking at him.

The Sargent makes a wounded sound while you take the cup. He’s made it perfect and you can’t keep the stony expression on your face after you take the first sip and a contented sigh escapes you.

“Gotcha!” He leans against the desk and you offer him a tired smile “Least I can do with the Commander leaving you all by your lonesome.”

You nibble at the pastry. It’s honey sweet and sticky, the buttery layers flake and crumbs stick to your fingers.

You swallow each bite down with the strong caf he’s brought, likely from the pot in the speeder pool where it was often insinuated it could be swapped with the high octane speeder fuel and no one would be the wiser.

“I didn’t realize the Commander was pulling protection detail this week” you sniff glancing at a report on your datapad as if you weren’t supremely curious.

“He wasn’t supposed too, he swapped with Hound.” He reaches to snatch an uneaten piece of pastry and you slap at his hand but he’s quicker then you and has it in his mouth before you have a chance to snatch it back.

“Rude” you mutter lowly only earning a laugh.

“I’m glad you survived the other night with your good humor intact” you glance up to see a concerned look on his face “we were all a bit worried about you. Rule nearly had a kittens.”

“I mean, it turned out fine. Right?”

“Mouse?” His fist bumps into your shoulder lightly and you look up into a very concerned face. “We’re all ok. It’s no big deal, ok? It happens sometimes. Too much booze and battle stress and-” Wren shrugs. His eyes examine your face. His hand closes over yours, the gauntlet completely obscuring your hand underneath. “You were scared, weren't you?”

Maybe you weren’t. Maybe you were. You weren’t entirely sure. At the time it had been scary, yeah, but it wasn’t the Guards fault some drunk from the 501st wanted to start a fight. They were just protecting each other like they were supposed to. Maybe you were just more startled, that was probably it. Now, you just wanted to check in on Fox and make sure he was ok.

“I’m fine, Wren” you offer what you hope is a convincing smile “I think.”

The buzzing of his comms interrupts anything he was preparing to say. Wren frowns as you both listen to an all points coming through.

“I should probably head out” he offers another barely there love tap to your shoulder before he’s on his way.

Back to work, you pull up the schedule for the rest of the week while you pull up the HNE news feed on a seperate screen. you listen half-heartedly as the reporter drones on listing off casualty statistics, making a point to seperate the numbers of clones and non clone GAR personnel, like one mattered more than the rest.

The segway into the next segment slides across the screen with a quick montage of popular- and not so popular- senators speaking- and sometimes shouting- on the senate floor.

“And now in Senate new Chancellor Sheev Palpatine's overriding vote came as a shock to the gathered assembly...”

The clip disappears into a video from today. You freeze when you see the Supreme Chancellor presiding over the Senate. You tried to stay out of politics but something about Sheev Palpatine always put you off. It was his eyes. The politician's smile never reached them.

You continue to watch, only half listening as a wide shot brings into focus more of the Chancellor. Your eyes travel to the Coruscant Guard standing protectively behind the Chancellor. Thire is at his right and- your chest tightens- Fox is on his left. You don’t hear anything about referendums or treaties or the rising anti-Republic sentiment. You just see Fox.

———-

“Commander Fox. Come here”

Thire moves to take point as Fox falls back at the Chancellor’s request. “Is everything alright Chancellor.”

The old man waves dismissively, a smile pulling at his mouth. It makes Fox uncomfortable, “it’s fine. Everything’s fine, my friend. I wanted to have a word with you.”

Fox has never considered someone as influential as the Chancellor of the Galactic Republic to be a friend. The notion seemed wildly inappropriate like a tooka keeping a pet rancor. “Sir?”

“I sense something is burdening you, Commander.” The chancellor barely casts a glance toward him but Fox feels a prickle of something primal - sharp - in his belly. It was silly. He supposed but he was a Shock Trooper, a commander in the Grand Army of the Republic. He didn’t wear his emotions on his sleeve. He was the picture of military excellence. Unless he was slipping. He glances ahead at Thire as they make the turn to the Chancellor’s office. His vod doesn’t look back.

“Sir, I’m not-“

Palpatine waves a hand, “you are not in trouble Commander. I simply wonder if there is not some way I can advise you?”

The question hangs in the air. Fox lets his head continue to scan from side to side, eyes assessing the transparisteel lined wall as they enter the office. He hated that wall. It offered far too many opportunities for a sniper with the right kit and time to wait.

“Maybe this is about the traitor? The clone?”

Fox is quiet, his back ramrod straight. Thire glances at him from his spot by the door and Fox offers him a small nod before the other Commander is taking up a sentry position outside the door. A smile plays at the chancellor’s lips.

“Or maybe it’s something different” Palpatine turns his attention to Fox and looks him over. The prickle in his gut gets worse, a biological warning that something wasn’t right. He feels like a bug under a microscope, about to be dissected by the smiling visage of the old man in front him. “Maybe a girl then?”

“Chancellor Palpatine, such things are expressly against regulation four-“ he’s interrupted from rattling off the exact regulation as the Chancellor sweeps away from him and toward the window, his robes flowing behind him. He stands against the window, the light around him casting him as a dark shadow.

“You are a man, are you not? Not just a meat covered droid as some would lead you to think. Clone or otherwise, it’s natural for you to desire. When this war is over I feel we will see a dawning of a new era. Have you thought about what will become of you after the Separatists are defeated?”

Of course he’s thought about it. Any clone who’d say otherwise was a liar. Some looked at the future with fear and apprehension, others a sense of hope, some only with mild curiosity. That being said he wasn’t about to admit to any of that to the chancellor.

“It hadn’t crossed my mind”

Palpatine turns, narrows his eyes. It's just a minute twitch that Fox is scarcely sure he’s seen before it disappears, melts back into the serene expression he typically wore.

“I suppose I will stay on with the GAR if they’ll have me.” He relents, “or find a civilian defense contract.”

“And what of family? I know you clones hold the term of brother, of vod,” it sounds like a dirty word coming from his mouth, “close to your hearts. Do you want for more?”

The Chancellor’s eyes bore into him, searching, prodding for something that Fox can’t understand. He tries to sound light as he speaks as if the line of questioning wasn’t sending up so many warning signals. “I don’t think the Senate would approve of their weapons starting families.”

Palpatine gives him a grin, it’s devoid of warmth, lifeless. More of an impression of a smile, meant to be inviting but only working to raise the hairs on the back of Fox’s neck . “Dear boy,” he offers an encompassing sweep of the hand and a light tone “I am the Senate.”

#commander Fox #commander fox/reader #commander fox x reader #tcw

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kumeko · 3 years

Photo

A/N: For BNHA Apocalypse zine! I couldn’t resist doing some Big Three after an eco disaster. This was one of my favourite zines to be in, the mods were amazing with editing and helped polish this piece up so much.

…

Hesitantly, Tamaki stepped through the doorway. It was stupid, really, that he couldn’t just walk right in. The house had been abandoned for years. In fact, he could hardly call it a house at this point. Vines creeped up the brick front, tendrils curling into the stone and through it to the house. Above him, the roof was a patchwork of holes and rotten wood. The plaster and insulation were long gone by now, leaving a skeleton of trusses. With the entire right wall collapsed, letting in light and wildlife, Tamaki wasn’t certain of the structural stability of the building. It wouldn’t be long now till it collapsed, like many of the houses in this neighbourhood.

Still, at some point it had been someone’s home. People used to live, laugh, and cry in here. It had been a long time, but Tamaki still remembered what that meant. He might have been a child when the world ended, but his parents had raised him with manners. Even now, he wanted to ask Hello? Anyone home?

That was dangerous, though. A wild animal might hear him and while most were content to leave him alone, you could never be too careful. When the zoo had been forgotten, the animals in it found their chance to escape. Bears, lions, tigers—Japan now had a strange assortment of unnatural animals. Or, at least, Iida had claimed. The younger boy read any books he could get his hands on and his knowledge was second to none.

Forcing down his worries, Tamaki scanned the first room. There was an overturned couch, holes in it from animals trying to find a home. Glass crunched underfoot from a blown-in window. This was a living room, most likely. A stuffed doll lay nearby, button eyes falling out and covered in soot. He wondered if its owner had managed to get away. He wondered if they’d survived.

He tried not to think about it anymore. This room was clear of any food or tools and he moved on toward the kitchen. It was just as much of a mess as the first. Cupboards had been torn off their hinges and there was a gaping hole where their fridge must have been. This place had most likely been picked clean, scavenged entirely at the beginning of this disaster. Moss and dandelions sprouted on the water-logged wood and the floor was a carpet of grass. Half-heartedly, he pulled open a drawer. Inside, he saw several dusty spoons and a battered flat spoon.

Utterly useless. Tamaki closed it before yanking it open again. Staring at the flat spoon, he brushed it gently. This was familiar. His fingers curled around the wooden handle and he’d done that before. Vaguely, he remembered dragging a stool to the kitchen counter, standing on his tippy-toes as he watched his mother spread icing on a cake.

It’s tasty, isn’t it? She’d offered him the flat spoon, white icing covering the edges. Clean the spatula after.

A spatula. He smiled, holding it up. It was a spatula. There was no point to a spatula here, there weren’t bakery shops or cakes anymore. Making a cake was a waste of resources and even if they could scrape one together, icing was next to impossible to make. It was a waste of space to take it.

Yet, despite himself, he took it. As he tucked it into his knapsack, he heard footsteps behind him. He whirled around, unsheathing his dagger from his belt for defense.

“Tamaki!” chirped a familiar voice. “You here?”

It was just Mirio. Relaxing, Tamaki sighed and sheathing his dagger. “Yeah.”

“There you are!” Mirio beamed as he poked his head in the kitchen. “Find anything?”

“No.” Tamaki shook his head sadly. More and more often, that was the case—entire scavenger missions went without gathering a single thing. It was a good thing they’d finally figured out farming, otherwise, he wasn’t sure what they’d do. “You?”

“Nope.” Mirio shrugged, still smiling brightly. “Buuutttt,” he dragged out, a twinkle in his eye, “Nejire found something.”

Tamaki stared at him. Rubbing his forehead, he muttered, “How does she do that?”

“I’m pretty sure she’s part hound,” Mirio whispered conspiratorially. “She also found some mushrooms. Could you check?”

Tamaki grimaced before nodding. Once, he hadn’t inspected Nejire’s finds and everyone had food poisoning for two days. Once, and never again.

-x-

“Mushrooms!” Nejire shouted energetically, waving her hands above her. Her voice echoed between the skyscrapers, drowning out the birds and other wildlife as they travelled through the city.

Tamaki shushed her, glancing around worriedly. While the journey back to their home base was safer than their trek away from it, that didn’t make it absolutely safe. Wild animals could be around any corner, jaws and claws ready to tear them into two. A building might collapse, crushing them. Their path might be blocked, forcing them to take a longer route across rotting roof tiles that were one wrong step away from a bad fall.

Honestly, he didn’t know how Mirio and Nejire did this on a daily basis. Tamaki only joined them once a week. He spent most of his time helping at the base. It would take him days to calm down from each mission. And yet here was Nejire, arms clasped behind her back, softly humming as they walked.

If there was one good thing about scavenging, he had to admit there was something pretty about the city. Pretty and sad. The looming towers around him were filled with broken windows, destroyed by the elements and animals. No matter where he looked, there was a plant. Trees poked their branches through buildings, their growth accelerated by the chemicals that triggered this whole apocalypse. Even though he couldn’t see them, Tamaki could hear animals moving underbrush. While he could barely remember what a city used to look like, he was certain this was the exact opposite of it.

Still, even this sight wasn’t tempting enough for him to do this everyday.

Mirio clapped his back, an easy smile on his face. They were always so easy for him. “It’s fine. We cleared this path days ago, there’s nothing waiting for us here.”

Somehow, that didn’t reassure Tamaki. He nodded anyways. Pushing his hair away from his face, he prayed silently to some distant deity for protection. Then again, if anyone out there listened, they wouldn’t have been in this situation in the first place.

“Hey, hey.” Nejire poked his shoulder, her voice muted. It still sounded far too loud, but it was something. “I found a lot today, right?” She started to tick them off with her fingers. “Mushrooms, bird eggs, that squirrel—”

“We’ll feast tonight!” Mirio rubbed his hands together and licked his lips. “I wonder what Mrs. Midoriya will make with this.”

Tamaki glanced to his left and right, to where Nejire was still itemizing every piece of food she’d gathered and Mirio was daydreaming about delicacies that no longer existed. He smiled. Sometimes, when it was just the three of them, it was hard not to think the future would get better. “Yeah, you did good today, Nejire.”

She beamed at the praise. It was always easy to make her happy. Bouncing forward, she asked, “What about you? Find anything?”

“Uhh…” Tamaki pulled his hoodie up, his shoulders hunched as he shook his head. All those hours of searching and nothing to show for it. It was a waste of energy and supplies to send him out with them. “Nothing.”

Nejire’s expression softened and she bumped shoulders with him. “Next time, then! I guess I win today.”

“It’s not a game—” Her touch jostled his bag and from the corner of his eye, he noticed the spatula fall out.

Before he could pick it up, Mirio grabbed it. “You did find something.”

Nejire peered down at it, cocking her head. “What is it?”

“It’s not…” Nejire looked at him with curious eyes and Tamaki looked down, scuffing his shoe on the ground. Quietly, he mumbled, “It’s a spatula.”

They both had good ears. That, or they were used to him by now. Mirio held it up in the light, grinning brightly. “Ohh, I haven’t seen these in ages.”

Brow knitted, Nejire scratched her cheek. “Hey, hey, what do you do with it?”

“You’ve never seen one?” Mirio shot her a baffled look. “Seriously?”

When Nejire merely pouted in response, puffing her cheeks, Tamaki gingerly plucked the spatula out of Mirio’s hands. Pointing at the wide flat side, he explained, “It’s used to spread things. Like icing on a cake.”

“Ohh, icing.” Nejire snatched the spatula, running her fingers along the edge. Her eyes grew wide as she felt the plastic top. “Not sharp at all.”

“It’s not meant for cutting.” Tamaki rubbed his neck when she turned to him.

“You really do know a lot about food,” she praised, handing back the spatula. “That’s amazing.”

“Not really.” He felt his ears burn from the compliment. It wasn’t something he deserved. “I just helped my mom a lot when I was younger.”

“Lucky.” Nejire clasped her arms behind her back as she took the lead now. There was something wistful in her tone. “It must have been fun.”

At times like this, Tamaki remembered just how little he knew of Nejire. Mirio had been his classmate before this happened. The second Tamaki had stepped into his kindergarten classroom, Mirio had grabbed his hands and declared instant friendship. They’d been together for so many years, they practically knew each other inside and out.

Nejire, on the other hand, suddenly appeared a few years ago and wiggled her way into their company. It was natural now, to eat, sleep, and spend time with her. Her profile as she sat in front of the fire, keeping watch, was something he was aware of intimately. Yet she’d never spoken of her past and he didn’t know what the Nejire of ‘before’ was like, of what changes she’d gone through to reach the cheerful girl she was now. Maybe nothing. Maybe a lot.

Had she cooked with her parents? Or did she wish she had? Tamaki almost asked about her family aloud, and barely reined himself in, snapping his mouth shut.

It didn’t really matter. They were all orphans now.

-x-

“Alright, made it!” Mirio cheered, running the last few steps to what had once been a high school gymnasium. At one point, the walls must have echoed with the sounds of dozens of balls, cheering students, and squeaking sneakers. Now, the place was in shambles like the rest of the world. Even worse, as it was an older school and the building had needed repairs even before all this happened.

Still, it was a large, covered area. Just perfect for the survivors in their area to meet. Some preferred to stay close, sleeping in the nearby school. Others had their own hideouts away from the crowd. All met here once a day, to gather supplies and divvy up meals.

Nejire ran in after Mirio, chirping eagerly, “Guess what I found today!”

Tamaki frowned before following them in. This was his least favourite part of the day; there were so many people in here. Unlike the relative solitude of the city, this gymnasium felt like what the world must have been like before: crowded and noisy. Maybe it was a good thing he never would have to deal with it.

As he stepped through the big, barely-on-their-hinges doors, Tamaki blinked and adjusted to the dim lighting inside. It was gloomy inside, barely lit by a half-dozen. Squinting, he could just make out Mirio and Nejire. Next to them was a plump woman. He didn’t have to hear her voice to recognize Mrs. Midoriya. Her dark green hair had a strange shine to it in the poorly lit room.

“And you’re sure you’re okay?” she asked, wringing her hands she examined Nejire. She paid no attention to the bag of food at her feet. “Nothing too dangerous today?”

“Nope!” Nejire giggled as she twirled around, demonstrating her health. She wiggled her fingers and then her legs, and added, “I’m in one piece.”

Mrs. Midoriya gave her a flat look before sighing. “I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me or not.” She turned to Mirio. “And you?”

“In perfect health!” Mirio flashed her a thumbs up and grinned charmingly. As usual, it worked and she relaxed slightly. “It was easy.”

“That’s what you always say.” Like clockwork, she turned her focus to Tamaki. As she fussed over him, she grumbled, “All of you don’t take it seriously enough out there. It’s dangerous! And Izuku wants to join you in searching.”

“It’s not that bad,” Mirio consoled, picking up the food bag and carrying it over to the big cooking pots. It was easier if they cooked a big communal meal and it was easiest if it was a stew or soup of some sort. Tamaki could understand—nothing got wasted that way—but he was tired of the taste. “As long as you’re careful.”

Nejire watched him disappear before chiming in. “We’re always careful.”

“Always?” Mrs. Midoryia clicked her tongue disapprovingly, not buying a single word. Finally pulling away from Tamaki, she bit her lip. “I’m trying to keep him away from all of this but…” She gave them a helpless look. “I suppose I don’t really have a choice in the matter.”

“We’ll keep him safe,” Nejire promised, grabbing her hands and squeezing them tightly.

Tamaki nodded and smiled awkwardly. “He’ll be fine as long as he learns the ropes.”

“I trust you.” Mrs. Midoriya smiled back sadly. “I…I know this is hard on you all. You’re so young! You should be worried about tests. But…thank you, for everything.” Trembling, she gripped Nejire’s hand back tightly. “I’ll make sure to cook you a tasty dinner, okay? It’s all I can do, I know, but—”

“Hey, hey, I love your cooking!” Nejire exclaimed. “I want it every day.”

“You have it every day,” Mrs. Midoriya laughed weakly.

Nejire smiled. “Then I’m very lucky.”

-x-

Home was a small lab, located two blocks from the school. Tamaki couldn’t remember who’d found it, if Nejire had tumbled into it or Mirio had realized what it was or if Tamaki had just opened it accidentally. They’d lived here almost as long as they’d known Nejire and Tamaki couldn’t breathe easily until they were inside once again.

It was a little bit of a hassle, walking to and from the school. Especially since so many of the classrooms had been converted to individual bedrooms for privacy. Tamaki could probably bear with it, but he liked it better here. It hadn’t weathered all that well, with vines and flowers creeping out of vents and climbing the walls in a desperate attempt to get a little sunlight. There were large glass vats, broken and cracked, their contents long gone. Nejire and Mirio liked to guess what they’d held—giant sewer rats, dinosaurs, and a slime monster were the favourite choices.

There were several side rooms, filled with dusty computers, thin beds, and tables cluttered with moldy books. With no central heating, they’d pushed together several beds and dumped all the blankets in an effort to keep warm during the winter. Even as they ate now, sitting on the floor, Nejire nestled in between Tamaki and Mirio for heat. “This is cuddly,” she declared happily, her bowl teetering precariously on her lap. She always managed to keep it upright but Tamaki worried it’d fall one day.

Mirio hummed his agreement, squeezing a little closer. “I’m in the middle next time.”

“Nope,” Nejire shut him down immediately, taking a spoonful from her stew. “Mmmm, this is great.”

That, Tamaki had to agree. What they lacked in variety, they didn’t lack in taste. And though he was used to his companions’ cooking (judging by the slight kick in it, Momo must have helped), it wasn’t bad to eat in the least.

“That reminds me.” Mirio took a spoonful himself, blowing on it to cool his bite. “They found a girl today.”

“They did?” Tamaki hadn’t thought it was possible to find anyone new at this point.

“Yeah.” Mirio grinned brightly. “Eri’s six and really cute.”

No mention of her parents. Tamaki knew better than to ask. “She’s staying at the school?”

“Yeah, Mrs. Midoriya said she’d take care of her.” Mirio stared thoughtfully at his bowl. “She’s just six.”

Before he could wonder why Mirio was stuck on that, Nejire asked, “Hey, hey, does that mean she doesn’t know what it’s like before?”

Oh. Suddenly, he understood. At six, this must have been the only world she’d ever known. This world of ruin would always be her ‘before’. Tamaki wondered if it was better that way, to not have a point of comparison. It had to be easier to adapt, at the very least.

Sensing the shifting mood, Mirio reached over Nejire and poked Tamaki. “The weather’s getting nice now. Which means it’s your birthday soon!”

“Ehhhh?” Nejire stared at him, her mouth open. “Hey, hey, you didn’t tell me that!”

“I…” Tamaki flushed and looked into his stew. “It isn’t that important.”

“It’s always important, it’s your birthday!” Nejire disagreed, crossing her arms.

“He was born in March, so it’s got to be March soon.” Mirio scratched his cheek, nose scrunching as he thought. “Maybe Iida knows? He’s keeping a calendar, right?”

“When’s yours?” Nejire asked, shooting Mirio a suspicious look.

“July,” Mirio laughed, bumping shoulders with her. “Don’t worry, it hasn’t passed yet.”

“That gives me just enough time to plan,” Nejire murmured and Tamaki wondered if he should find out what that entailed. For safety’s sake, at least.

-x-

Sometimes, when the others were out, Tamaki liked to climb onto one of the platforms in the main lab and think about nothing. There was something beautiful about the room, about the plants forcing their way out of every crevice. A bird flew by overhead, breaking in from one of dozens of gaps in the building. Broken machines and lab equipment surrounded him—scientific scanners and screens that were too cracked to even show his reflection. At one point, it must have been busy here. Probably.

Tamaki couldn’t say he knew enough to even pretend to understand this room. No one he knew understood it, and he wondered if the knowledge was lost for good. He and Mirio had snuck into a museum once, looking at the displays of foreign animals and lost civilizations. This room wouldn’t be out of place there. They wouldn’t be out of place there. Maybe in the future, someone would call them a forgotten people.

A soft glow caught his eye and he looked up as a flock of butterflies soared to the roof, searching for a way out. Tamaki didn’t know science or tech, but he knew nature. He knew the changes that happened to even the most innocuous of creatures. Those butterflies glowed as softly as moonlight, and he wondered if they would have glowed anyways or if the end of the world had changed them irreparably too. There were so many plants and animals that were just different from their usual counterparts. It was the new normal.

Maybe it was a good thing. He didn’t know much of the world ‘before’, there was only so much you could know as a child, but from what Iida and Izuku learned, it was a world teetering on the brink of disaster. One way or another, they would have ended up here anyways. He only wished they could have been more prepared.

Opening his knapsack, he searched for the spatula. It was silly, but he wanted to hold it again. He could almost smell his mother’s baking, even though he couldn’t remember what it was. Digging through the bag, he frowned as he came up empty. Had he dropped it somewhere? It was probably for the best, but he couldn’t stop the disappointment welling up inside.

“Tamaki!”

A hurried shout snapped Tamaki out of his thoughts and he slipped off his perch. Recognizing Mirio’s voice, he jogged to the entrance. “What’s the matter?”

A disheveled, wild-looking Mirio grabbed his hand. “Nejire! She’s in trouble.”

-x-

Tamaki stared at the behemoth grizzly bear. As they had raced to the city’s center, he had expected something dangerous if only because of how hard Mirio’s hand shook as he dragged him along. It wasn’t a surprise that Nejire was in trouble—she got easily distracted, following one thought and then another without any concern for her surroundings. It was the reason she found things no one else could. It was also the reason that this wouldn’t be the first nor last time Mirio had ran to him in a panic.

Still, out of all the reasons Nejire could be in danger, Tamaki had not expected this. Crouching behind a dumpster, Tamaki peeked around the corner at the giant bear as it sniffed around an old telephone pole. The beast looked twice as big as any he’d seen before, its claws glowing unnaturally in the sunlight. Whatever had infected the butterflies hadn’t stopped there and Tamaki momentarily wondered if there was some unnoticed change in people too.

Not that it would help either way. The bear snuffled on the ground, yawning occasionally to reveal a jaw full of sharp fangs. Fortunately, Nejire could climb, and she had hoisted herself high above the bear. This bear was far too big to follow. It also didn’t seem particularly concerned with her. That was good—this must have been an accidental run-in, Nejire crossing paths with a bear barely awake after hibernation. The only problem was that every time its big body bumped into the telephone pole, the thin tower trembled. It wouldn’t be long before it cracked and broke, taking down Nejire with it.

“What do we do?” Tamaki whispered, leaning against the dumpster. Breathing shallowly, he tugged on his collar.

“It doesn’t seem hungry, at least.” Mirio crouched and peeked over the dump. “It might not realize Nejire’s there. Maybe if I can lure it away, you can grab her and run.”

“What?” Tamaki grabbed Mirio’s arm, shaking his head furiously. “That’s too dangerous! You don’t know what it can do.”

“It’s okay.” Mirio smiled reassuringly, resting his hand on top of Tamaki’s. His grip was firm. “I’ll run along the rooftops—it can’t climb, so I’ll be safe up there.”

“But—”

“We can’t leave her,” Mirio pointed out, already moving away. He had always been a hero. Tamaki hoped it wouldn’t kill him this time. “I’ll meet you at the school.”

Tamaki bit his cheek. Nejire could only hold onto that pole for so long. There weren’t any other options. “The school?” he asked, reluctantly getting into position.

“She might be injured.” Mirio called over his shoulder, already sprinting away before Tamaki could so much as tell him to be careful.

Tamaki watched him disappear into a nearby building before turning back to Nejire. His hands were clammy and he wiped the sweat on his pants. This was frightening. After this, they had to keep a leash on Nejire or something. There was no way he could fight a bear on a regular basis.

As promised, after a few minutes the bear looked up and lumbered away. Tamaki faintly heard Mirio yelling—was he just using noise or also food to lure the predator away? Either way, he didn’t have time to think about it. He had to get Nejire. They had to go back. After the bear disappeared, he waited five long seconds before dashing up to the telephone pole.

“Nejire!” Tamaki glanced around nervously. The bear wasn’t in sight anymore. “Come down!”

Nejire peeked down. “Tamaki?”

“You have to hurry!” he urged, scanning around him once more. It was too quiet now. He couldn’t even hear birds chirp. Was there another bear lurking nearby? Or some other, more dangerous creature?

“Where’s the bear?” Nejire looked around, confused. She started to slowly shuffle down when she realized the coast was clear.

“Mirio’s distracting it.” He wished they still had radios, but it was too hard to find working batteries.

Landing on the ground with a thud, Nejire stumbled forward a few steps before regaining her balance. She groaned lightly as she rubbed her arms. “Ouch.”

“Did it hurt you?” Tamaki focused on her, scanning her body for wounds and blood. Aside from a few scrapes on her knees and hands from climbing the pole, she looked fine.

“Nothing broken,” Nejire replied, still wincing as she rolled her shoulders. “Just really, really, really sore.”

“Can you walk?” Tamaki asked. When she nodded, he grabbed her hand and started sprinting back to the school. Mirio would meet them there. He just had to.

-x-

“Mirio!” Tamaki leapt to his feet as Mirio stumbled into the school’s hallway. Dashing to his friend, he checked for any injuries and sighed with relief when the only thing he found was a cut on his thigh. “You okay?”

“Almost perfect!” Mirio grinned weakly and winked. Even if he wasn’t injured, he was clearly very tired, and Tamaki looped an arm around his waist as he guided him to a nearby chair. “That bear can run.”

“It’s a bear.” Tamaki fretted when Mirio groaned. “Did you break anything?”

“No, no, I’m good. Just, you know, really sore.” Mirio leaned back and closed his eyes. “How’s Nejire?”

Tamaki glanced back at the Nurse’s room, where Nejire was getting checked. They might not have a doctor, but they did have bandages and two people who had taken a first aid course. It had to be enough. “Sore. She seemed fine.”

Mirio sighed. Relaxing, he opened his eyes. “Mission success! Thanks, Tamaki.”

“I…I didn’t really do anything.” Tamaki shook his head, uncomfortable with the praise. “You both did the hard work.”

“I could only do that cause I knew you were there.” Mirio winced as he grabbed Tamaki’s hand and squeezed it. “You were great.”

It still wasn’t something he deserved, but he knew from past experience that Mirio and Nejire refused to listen to that. It was better just to accept and end the conversation there. “You should get your leg checked.”

“After.” Mirio stared at the door. “Do you think—”

The door swung open, interrupting him. An exhausted Nejire trudged out, yawning slightly. Noticing them, she perked up and beamed brightly, though her energy was still nothing near her usual levels. “Mirio! You’re back!”

“You’re safe!” he replied cheerfully, rising to his feet.

Nejire wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tight. She nestled her head in his chest. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice softened as he hugged her back. “You too?”

“Mmm.” She nodded. “I’m sorry.”

Mirio shook his head. “It’s fine. What happened?”

“I was looking for berries and I guess the bear was too.” Nejire fell silent. “I thought it wouldn’t go away.”

That was a fear Tamaki had shared and suddenly, he was overwhelmed with the urge to touch, to confirm that they were both here. Stepping closer, he brushed his fingers against their arms, feeling sparks run up his hand at their heat. Without another word, Mirio pulled him into the hug and Nejire grabbed his shirt with a hand.

For once, he didn’t mind. He could hear them breathing, feel their heart beating. They were still alive. They had made it through another day. They were still together and that was all that mattered.

-x-

In hindsight, Tamaki should have realized something was up the second Nejire insisted they stay at the school for dinner. They never did that. Then again, they also never had run-ins with bears and he was still calming down, so he hadn’t thought too much of it. Mirio and Nejire could have asked him anything and he would have said yes, if only to stay closer to them.

For a while, it had been all three of them sitting in one of the teacher’s lounges, huddled on a ratty couch. A mess of arms and legs, all tangled up as they waited for dinner. At some point, Nejire had pulled away, and Tamaki had slipped into an uneasy sleep.

“Tamaki,” Mirio whispered, poking his shoulder.

Tamaki stirred, still fatigued. His back felt sore from sitting on the couch for so long. Yawning, he covered his mouth. “Is dinner ready?”

“Kinda.” Mirio poked his shoulder again. “Look.”

Opening his eyes, Tamaki slowly adjusted to the dim lighting of the room. While he’d fallen asleep, it had gotten darker. It must be almost night—they’d have to sleep here, it was far too dangerous to go home now. Around him were several candles, giving the room a warm, cozy feeling. And just ahead of him was Nejire, holding a cake. A lit candle sat on it.

Tamaki sat up immediately. “Is that…?” he trailed off, afraid to utter the word. Maybe he was still dreaming.

“A cake,” Mirio finished, getting up and standing next to Nejire. “Well, kinda, we don’t really have that much flour. It’s more fruit than cake. A fruitcake,” he joked, looking ridiculously proud.

Nejire knelt in front of him, holding out the chipped plate. Now that it was closer, Tamaki could make out a jam-like substance spread out all over the cake. “What’s that?”

“Blackberry sauce.” Nejire smiled softly. “Not icing, but your spatula worked just fine with it.”

Oh. So that’s where his spatula had gone. And the berries— “Is that why you were out?”

“Yeah.” Nejire giggled. “Hey, hey, I hope the bear wasn’t making a cake too.”

Mirio knelt beside her and they sang together, “Happy birthday, Tamaki!”

Tamaki swallowed, fighting back tears. This was too much, especially on a day like this. He could barely handle the bear, and now this? Nejire laughed, reaching out to wipe his eye. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Of course I do!” he replied, grabbing her and Mirio’s hands. In all honesty, Tamaki didn’t know what he’d do without them. He was weak with them and even weaker by himself. “Next time, don’t do anything dangerous. Not for something like this.”

“Something like this is very important,” Nejire retorted, still smiling. “Even I know birthdays are special.”

“And yours is very special to us,” Mirio added, squeezing his hand. “Now blow out the candle.”

Tamaki stared at them, then at the flame. He didn’t know what to wish for, honestly. Everything he could think of was a practical matter—fixing the world, finding enough to eat, staying safe. If he had to wish for something, then…his eyes flickered to Nejire. They still didn’t know too much about her. Hell, he didn’t know her birthday. But he could change that. He would change that. They were in it for the long run and maybe it was time they started opening up to one another.

Leaning forward, he blew out the candle and silently prayed, I wish we could stay together.

#boku no hero academia #nejire hadou #inko midoriya #mirio togata #tamaki amakiji #bnha #fanfic

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fantasydaydreamers · 5 years

Text

"Spiderverse Pt. 2" Spiderman Au! Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Continuation of PART 1

Word Count: 3,061

Warnings: None

Author's Note: Nothing like a lil bromance. Also...HAPPY SEASON 4 BABBBBYYYY!!!!!

The next morning, Bakugou woke up before his alarm with a smile on his face, the memories from last night still lingering in his head. The adrenaline he felt coming home took a while to fade, but even then he had trouble falling asleep. Plus the overall reality of his night kept replaying in his head like a broken record player, making it hard for him to unwind. When he finally fell asleep, it was brief, but restful, which was why he was up so early now.

He blinked the blurriness away from his eyes and laid in bed for a minute immediately thinking back to the secret kiss shared in the alley, his lips tingling with the thought. The small gasp you made when his tongue entered your mouth accompanied by the loose strands of your hair blowing in the wind tickling his face, he was shocked it wasn't a dream. Not only that, but the robbery he had stopped at the cafe, thankfully saving everyone from danger, made him feel complete.

Bakugou yawned as he stretched, cracking his joints, before flinging himself out of bed. Opening his blinds to the waking streets of Toyko, the sunlight poured in his room, golden streaks of light being created by the blinds in the way. Making his way over to the stereo he had in his room, he put on some of his favorite rock music as he got ready. Today is going to be a good ass day. He flung open his closet and began to dig through his clothes, throwing the items on the ground.

He paused, holding a random shirt in his hand. Wait...why do I care? It's just another day at this dumbass school. It wasn't like (Y/n) would know it was me, anyway. Rubbing the cotton between his fingers, he mulled over his thoughts briefly. Fuck it. I can have a good day once in a while. He threw on his favorite t-shirt and jeans before grabbing his backpack to head downstairs. Reaching the bottom, Bakugou waltzed into the kitchen.

"You're up early." Aunt May eyed him cautiously, looking up from the paper she was reading while sipping a cup of coffee at the dining table. Bakugou's signature scowl returned as he shrugged his shoulders, grabbing one of the pieces of toast on her plate. "Hey, brat! At least ask if you can have one!" Aunt May rolled up the newspaper and smacked him on the head. "Watch it!" Bakugou retorts, moving away from her reach.

"You look like you're in a good mood today." Aunt May changes the topic as she reaches over for the remote, switching on the TV. Ignoring her, Bakugou takes a bite of the toast.

"Breaking news this morning, a cafe robbery happened in the heart of downtown Tokyo late last night. When authorities arrived on the scene, the robbers were stuck to the ground by some sort of webbing. Witnesses say that a person by the name of 'Spiderman' had taken care of the situation, saving everyone inside."

Bakugou slowed his chewing and swallowed, his attention focusing on the TV. The camera cuts to a clip of a witness at the scene last night being interviewed with a blanket wrapped around them. "He came through the window that was already broken by the robbers and fought them off, making sure they didn't hurt us. It all happened so quickly, I'm just glad he was able to come to the rescue."

The camera then cuts to a little boy sitting next to his mother with tear-stained cheeks wrapped up in a blanket. "Hwe-hic-was so cool. Thank you, Spiderman."

Bakugou's chest swells at the words being said about him as he tunes out the rest of the reporter's details of the aftermath. "Recently, it seems like the crime in the city has increased lately. You better start coming home earlier, Bakugou. I don't want you getting caught up in these situations." Aunt May's eyes cut to him sharply her words holding a warning. "Do you understand me?"

He knew why she was paranoid, but he couldn't just sit around and do nothing. For all he knew, the spider bite could've been poisonous and he could've died. This way, he felt as if he had a second chance at life; turning it into something positive. "Yeah." He nods his head once, looking at her briefly and grips his backpack tighter. I'm sorry Aunt May. I need too. I want too.

Aunt May was still glancing over at Bakugou while finishing her coffee. Awkwardly, Bakugou checks the clock on the wall thankfully finding an excuse to leave. "Well...I'm off to school." Backing out of the room, Bakugou walks to the front door to put his shoes on.

"It's still kind of early..." Aunt May's voice trails after him suspiciously. "Kirishima asked me to meet him early and help with the homework we had last night," he calls back, the lie flowing smoothly through Bakugou's teeth as he finishes lacing his shoes. "Be safe." Aunt May's stern yet worried tone was now heard clearly.

Bakugou stood with his hand on the door, silently thinking over his response. After the events that happened in the past, it didn't just affect him. Not only the spider bite but everything that occurred before that, leaving permanent damage on the two of them making them both lose important people in their lives. He didn't want her to worry about him when she has already done so much for him.

His secret was something he was determined to not let Aunt May know.

"I promise."

~*~*~*~*

Arriving at school, he was relieved not many people had shown up yet. Bakugou yawned feeling the exhaustion catch up to him. Where did all my energy from this morning go? He walks slowly through the courtyard, the crisp dewy grass crunching under his feet. Another yawn threatened to escape his mouth but he suppressed it, his eyes tearing up. Maybe I should've had some coffee to help myself wake up.

Since the doors weren't opened yet, the few who were already present were scattered around the front of the school, sitting on benches or the staircase, idly chatting together or waiting for their friends to show up. Bakugou hopped up on the ledge surrounding the statue of the school's founder in the center of the courtyard just at the end of the stairs. He leaned his head back and squinted his eyes, looking up at the sun still rising above the school. A sudden chilled autumn breeze ran through the courtyard making Bakugou close his eyes.

In that moment, he was once again teleported back to last night. The feeling of the wind brushing your hair against his cheek just as the kiss was deepening, your hand on the side of his face holding him still-

"Morning, Bakugou!" Bakugou was jolted out of his daydream, his eyes snapping open as he whipped his head to the side seeing Kirishima walking around the statue towards him. He scowled and glared at the red-headed boy who was way too cheerful for this time of day. "You're here early," Kirishima observes cautiously as he comes to a stop in front of Bakugou. His brows were furrowed looking up at his friend until an excited grin crossed his features. "Oh! Dude! You were on TV-"

"Shut up!" Bakugou hissed, throwing a hand over Kirishima's mouth before his voice could echo to everyone else. Kirishima didn't seem to mind as he stared back at Bakugou in awe. Slowly, Bakugou removed his hand and gave Kirishima a pointed look. "I know," he murmured, his hand landing behind his head feeling embarrassed.

"You looked so manly, dude! Tell me the whole story. Did you really knock a guy out? What's with the 'itsy-bitsy spider' thing? Hey, do you think (Y/n) saw?!" Kirishima bounced on the balls of his feet as he hounded Bakugou with questions. (Y/n). Remembering that he needed to tell Kirishima just how 'impressed' she was, Bakugou suddenly smirked which made Kirishima stop and stare. "Don't do that dude. It's creepy."

Bakugou scowled again and crossed his arms over his chest. "Do you want me to tell you what happened or not, Shitty Hair?" Kirishima nodded enthusiastically and made the 'zipping' motion over his mouth.

Rolling his eyes, Bakugou went into a brief--but badass--detail of the encounter, rushing to get to what he considered the 'good part.' "So! Here's where it gets good...(Y/n) was the one standing with the brick in her hand."

Kirishima let out a serious, but dramatic, gasp and threw his hand over his mouth. Up until that point, he was fully engrossed in the story, hanging on to Bakugou's every word. "No, she wasn't!"

"Dude! I'm fucking serious!" Bakugou would never admit it, but he felt giddy talking about his experience with Kirishima. He was someone who actually gave a damn about what Bakugou does and even offered to help in some cases in which Bakugou would scoff and turn away, not knowing how to react. He had told him, 'maybe one day,' and Kirishima forced him to pinky promise, pissing Bakugou off in the process.

"I grabbed her hand and took off down the street pulling her into an alley-"

As the story got more unexpected, Kirishima kept interrupting. "You were ALONE with her?!" He exclaimed his hands flying up to grip Bakugou's shoulders. "Please tell me you didn't mess up. You didn't tell her, did you? Is she going to keep the secret too? Wait...I thought this was bro-code-"

Bakugou shoved Kirishima's hands off, anxious to finish the story since more people were starting to show up. "Bro-co-? Let me finish! No, she doesn't know!" As the courtyard was filling up with people, the chatter became louder and school busses were arriving from the outskirts of Tokyo to drop students off.

You were walking up to the school, gripping the strap to your bag, trying to shake yourself from drowsiness. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Bakugou grinning while talking to Kirishima in a hushed voice. "(Y/n)!" You hear your friends call out to you from the staircase as they wave you over. Smiling back, you motion to them you'll be over there in a minute and walk toward the two boys.

"You kissed-?!" Bakugou's hand flew over Kirishima's mouth again when he absently saw you approaching from his peripheral. This sixth sense thing can be fucking useful when it wants to be. Seeing the movement, you stop next to Kirishima and grin at them. "What are you two boys gossiping about?"

Bakugou gaped at you, not knowing what to say. Kirishima also looked shocked by your sudden appearance and glanced at Bakugou, only to see his dumbfounded expression. Noticing his panic, Kirishima gave you a wide-tooth grin. "He-hey, (Y/n)! Good morning!"

You smiled back at Kirishima warmly, his personality contagious. "Morning! Did I hear that someone kissed someone else?" Excided, you shoot Bakugou a glance, your hands coming up to cup your ear. "Tell me the tea! I want to know!"

Bakugou's eyes widened as he felt an embarrassed flush radiate off his skin. "Uh-" Kirishima stepped in front of Bakugou defensively. "He kissed me! The other night-uh-it was an accident though. Like one of those slip and fall situations, you know?"

You stare at Kirishima speechless. Suddenly, Bakugou's fist comes flying down on Kirishima's head. "He's lying. Right, Kirishima? Tell her you're lying. Now." If you squinted, you were sure you could see steam coming from Bakugou's ears as he grit out his words menacingly. Kirishima winced as the fist dug harder into his skull, trying not to laugh.

"Yeah-pfft-I'm lying. I can't tell you. Bro-code, (Y/n)." The answer does little to nothing in seizing Bakugou's fumes as his other hand comes to pull at Kirishima's hair. "You dumbass! What the fuck did you just do?!" Shock by the excuse and watching the two boys bicker in front of you, laughter bubbles up in your throat escaping leaves your lips, the sound making the boys stop.

"Is this one of those no-homo jokes? You teenage boys think you're so funny, huh? It's too bad you won't tell me what really happened then..." You begin to walk away from them, Bakugou hanging on to your every word, hoping Kirishima didn't fuck everything up. Halfway to your friends who were waiting on you, you turn around with a sly smile on your face and put your finger to your lips.

"I kissed someone too."

With that, the two boys watch you turn back around and jog over to your friends excitedly. Bakugou's grip had loosened on Kirishima and he took that opportunity to escape and fix his hair, rubbing the sore spot on his head. "Wow. You really did it, didn't you?" Kirishima let out a low whistle watching Bakugou stare after you longingly, a sigh leaving his lips.

"Hello? Dude...please tell me you weren't acting that slow last night when you were talking with her. You didn't even say a word to her just now, so how in the world did you kiss her?" Fixing his hair, Kirishima pulled out his phone to check his reflection, making sure he looked presentable.

The comment made Bakugou snap out of his trance as he pushed himself off the ledge, stretching once he stood up straight. "Shut up, Shitty Hair." He paused in his stretching when he realized he really didn't say anything to you. "I guess it was easier to talk to her because I knew she wouldn't know who it really was under the mask, you know?"

Kirishima put his phone away and looked at Bakugou confused. "Is that supposed to be a tongue twister? Well, I guess you did some tongue twisters last night too-OUCH!"

Bakugou gripped Kirishima's hair again, pushing and pulling his head around as he tried to stutter out a response. All that managed to leave his mouth were curses and insults as Kirishima laughed and complained about his hair. "Also, Shitty Hair, what the fuck were you thinking when you made that comment earlier?! Are you trying to fuck this up for me?! Do you need to tell me something?"

Now Kirishima was the one being asked the questions as he chuckled and shrugged it off like it was nothing. "Seeing you panic made me panic a little so I had to think fast. Besides, you heard (Y/n), we're just two teenage boys," Kirishima stopped the movement of his head and put his hand on Bakugou's shoulders staring at him in the eyes, "no homo, bro."

That's it. "Don't touch me! I'll fucking web you to the front of the school in your sleep." Bakugou threated, shoving Kirishima's hands off of him. It pissed him off that Kirishima knew just how to get under Bakugou's skin. Especially when it came to (Y/n).

Kirishima held up his hands in defense, smirking. "I'm messing with you, Bakubro! Besides, I sleep in my boxers. I don't think that'll help your case." He said thoughtfully, once again fixing his hair.

Bakugou leaned in and smirked. "Actually, it just might help. How embarrassing would it be to wake up to the whole school laughing at you?" Kirishima gulped and backed away as Bakugou followed him threateningly.

"Okay fine, you win! I'm sorry I said that and I won't do it again!" Kirishima was the first one to break, making Bakugou laugh in victory. They often pushed each other around just to see who could break the act. Bakugou was just upset that Kirishima decided to play the game around (Y/n). The school bell finally rang and Kirishima sighed in relief walking next to his friend to the staircase. "I guess you can say I'm saved by the bell."

"I hate you."

~*~*~*~*

A while later, Bakugou and Kirishima met up again because they both had P.E. together. You also happened to be in this class, although you spent most of the time sitting on the bleachers talking to your friends. Bakugou was currently doing sit-ups as Kirishima held his legs, ranting on about a pop-quiz he had first-period.

Sudden gasps sounded from the bleachers, making the boys turn their attention to the girls. "Shhh!" You giggled trying to hush the girls, noticing all the boys looking. "Yes! I swear!" Some boys turn their attention away, but Bakugou and Kirishima were closest to the group, having perfect hearing.

"It felt so surreal. I couldn't fall asleep last night because I kept thinking about him. He was so funny and sweet...giving him a kiss was the only thing I could think of to say thank you because I wasn't sure if I would see him again. He's my hero." You sigh dreamily and Bakugou curses that he wasn't paying attention to what she was saying before. However, a small blush crossed his cheeks as him and Kirishima switched places. Her hero...

The group erupted in questions as your eyes met Bakugou's. You offered him a little smile looking embarrassed from all the attention and Bakugou nodded his head, turning away. She caught me staring. Fuck.

Suddenly the school's announcement speakers sounded as a panicked voice spoke out. "Attention all students, faculty, and staff: we need to evacuate the school as there has been an emergency broadcast that some vortex had opened up above the city. There are calls being sent out to Stark Towers-"

No sooner than hearing the news, student screams were heard throughout the building as everyone hurriedly ran out the doors, pushing and shoving each other along the way. Kirishima and Bakugou grabbed their bags and ran out the gym doors, stopping on the football field staring up at the darkened sky. The black and purple vortex was visibly where they were and Bakugou could faintly see lightning surrounding the edge of it.

As he looked up at the sky in disbelief as his fingers itched to go help take care of the situation, feeling the hairs on his arms and neck stand up. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out while still deciding if he should ditch the evacuation and see what's going on. He looked down and smirked, seeing the message. Of course, old man.

Mr. Stark: Come on, kid. We need you.

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #mha x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #mha imagines #bnha imagines #katsuki bakugo #my hero academia x reader #bakugo imagine #bakugou imagine

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underatedcharactersunite · 4 years

Text

The Hounds Heart Part 3

Warnings; Mentions of violence, assault, Strong Language, Angst, Attempted Rape, Fluff, Angst WordCount; 4,108 A/N; Hey guys, reblogs and comments are appreciated. Taking your time to even read this means the world. So thank you.

Life with Joffery became a matter of survival for Y/N. Each day, she awoke with a simple goal; to keep Joffery as calm as possible. Keep him peaceful, and there will be no violence unleashed onto herself or her beloved sister. That was her plan.

Nevertheless, while her plan frequently worked that didn't prevent the mental and physical exhaustion that she encountered every day. Every action that Y/N made was scrutinised. Her clothing judged. Whenever Y/N's interacted with Joffery, someone was always watching her. Y/N managed to keep firm through each day with the reassurance that she would see Sandor later on each evening.

Joffery surprised Y/N when he suggested that they take a stroll in the gardens. The Garden's was Y/N's favourite place in the landscape of Kings Landing. It's the only place where the world resembled normality. Groups of women sat together gossiping away. People walked through the many passageways that the gardens had to offer.

A place that provided Y/N with adoration was juxtaposed with the darkness that lingered around the gardens. Y/N was quite aware that there were little birds scattered everywhere. The bushes had ears she reminded herself, as she strolled through the gardens.

The morning thus far had been calm and rather pleasant. Joffery let Y/N explore the flowers that she'd never been able to discover back home in Winterfell. For the first time since Y/N had been in Kings Landing, she felt peculiarly happy. Perhaps it was the new smells and beautiful colours messing with her brain as she stopped to examine the beauty that each unique flower possessed.

As Sandor observed Y/N stopping to examine all of the flowers that the gardens had to offer, he was confused as to why King Joffery hadn't attempted to stop her from preventing their stroll from continuing. The longer he observes King Joffery's behaviour, the longer the small smile placed upon King Joffery's lips annoys him.

Sandor was well aware that the boy King didn't have any true emotions for Y/N. She was apart of an agreement made by two Fathers not too long ago to bring two families together. Joffery could never feel any adequate emotions to the way he was beginning to feel for the young woman.

He observed intently as King Joffery called Y/N to him as they reached an area of the gardens that held no flowers for Y/N to stop and examine. Y/n walked gracefully as she made her way over Joffery who was waiting for her. Sandor was forced to observe her, place a kiss onto the bastard's lips which he hungrily attempts to deepen. Y/N allows him for only a moment before she pulls away slowly.

Little Swan is learning, Sandor thinks to himself. As each day goes by Y/N has been watching Joffery to understand every behaviour, every mannerism so she can attempt to predict what he's going to do next. The Lannister's exceedingly underestimated Y/N's intelligence. She's playing each one of them a different way according to the behaviour she receives. Sandor's know that deep in her heart she doesn't want to manipulate anyone's emotions however, if she doesn't she knows that she will not only place her sister's life in danger but also her own.

Between Sandor and Y/N, they should have figured out that the day was going to well. The sun shone brightly on them as they walked around such a beautiful place. Minus the rest of her family, Y/N was currently with someone who meant so much to her. She couldn't prevent herself as she glanced at Sandor from her peripheral vision. There was something about him in the sunlight that mesmerised her. For the first time since her Father was beheaded right in front of her, did Y/N feel happy? The icing on the lemon cake would have been Joffery disappearing, but for now, it would have to do.

As Y/N went over to examine the most vibrant royal blue flower she had ever encountered in her life, she crouched down so she could examine it more closely. Y/N was completely unaware of the danger that she was in. Ser Meryn Trant had joined the three of them in the gardens with news, Robb Stark had defeated the Lannister army once again. Robb was once more making progress in the war. This vital knowledge angered Joffery. It didn't matter what he attempted, the King of the North was managing to match every attack every defence strategy. Joffery was going to send the precious King of the North a message.

As Joffery mutters "Punish her" to Ser Meryn, nothing in the Seven Kingdoms could have prepared Y/N for the onslaught that she's was about to endure. Ser Meryn Trant approached her just as she stood up to return to Joffery once again. The first strike is a punch square in the face the second is a solid kick to the stomach. From then it's a mixture of kicks and punches, the solid metal covering Ser Meryn Trant's punches even more detrimental.

Meryn's sword was purposely aimed for Y/N's face. Every beating that Y/N had experienced this far had been child's play. Ser Meryn was instructed to do as much damage as possible. The sight unleashing before him was enough to fill Sandor's nightmares for many nights to come. The screams that came out of the young women's mouth would haunt him forever. Sandor felt helpless as he observed the woman he cared about get beaten by Ser Meryn Trant. No matter the sight that was being forced upon his very eyes, he used his might to keep his eyes locked with Y/N's. She stared at him as if he was the only person in this repulsive place that kept her balanced. Y/N's face was cut, bloody and bruised yet despite all of her injuries Sandor still believed in his entire heart that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

"Enough, Good job Ser Meryn perhaps now my little Wolf has learnt her lesson. Get up!" Y/N questioned as to what lesson she required to learn. She hadn't done anything wrong. She hadn't spoken out or fought back any of Joffery's advances. This leads her to come to the only conclusion she could, this was not her lesson to learn, it was meant for Robb.

Anger flowed her body like wildfire. Physically she was in no fit state to get up and walk. She was well aware she couldn't do that. With all of her might, she attempted to get up. Everything in her body screamed in agony, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. Each attempt is extremely painful. It's the fifth attempt that's successful as she finally gets back on her feet. Y/N straightens out her skirts and politely removes the blood out of her mouth. Joffery was not going to get the satisfaction of seeing her weak. The first step almost kills her as she stumbles, Sandor was quick to put himself in front of her, tearing off a piece of his cloak he quickly passes to her so she can wipe the excess blood from around her mouth.

"Now that you've finally made it to your feet. I want you to come with me? I'm going to show the small council what happens when my future Queen's traitor Brother continues to make progress." Y/N limped over to him, struggling to maintain a smile on her face. If Robb was far from giving up then so should she be? Appreciating Sandor training behind her, she knew that he would not let her fall. Once again, Y/N had been challenged by Joffery. She would not let him win. She would not give him the satisfaction of embarrassing her.

Every step was agonising. That didn't stop her walk with her head raised High as people within the castle stopped and stared at her she was beaten and bloody. Y/N was proving a point. No Lannister was ever going to achieve the right of breaking her. Y/N was a Stark and one day Winter would come to all those who had attempted to break her down.

"Joffery, why is your dear bride beaten and bloody?" Cersei's voice broke through the chatter above everyone else's. YN's head turned in the direction of the noise, however as her right eye began to swell, she could not be sure where Cersei is.

"I'm teaching my future bride that everything that her traitor family does affect her. Now if you don't mind Mother, I am somewhat busy at the moment." Joffery gripped Y/N's arm harshly pulling her along she couldn't stop the hiss that escaped her mouth. It truly made Y/N wonder how serious her injuries were if Cersei was attempting to prevent Joffery's actions.

Joffery stormed into the small council with Y/N at his side. The group of men who had previously been discussing the problems ever arising in the Seven Kingdoms. Tyrion Lannister, Grand Maester Pycelle, Lord Varys and Lord Petyr Baelish were suddenly all looking at the looking at Y/N with looks of shock.

"Lady Y/N here please take my chair. " Tyrion urged as he witnessed the young woman's legs shake. Tyrion approached Y/N with a gentle hand he took ahold of her hand.

"No! Lady Stark will remain standing. She has no right to sit!" Joffery clearly instructed nevertheless, Tyrion slowly lead to Y/N to the chair, with the help of Lord Varys. They helped her sit. Tyrion moved to stand directly in front of her.

"Are you going to have the Hound strike me like you have Lady Stark?" Y/N looks up at Sandor and then back at Joffery. She needed to play this correctly, so Sandor didn't face any of this backlash.

"It was not Sandor Clegane's fault. Sandor Clegane did not strike me. Ser Meryn Trant unleashed an attack on me because my traitor brother decided that he would rather win a war against my one true love, then to stop and accept his fate at the hands of my beloved King Joffery." With all of her might and the aid of the table, Y/N stood up once again, trying to make herself look tall despite every muscle, every bone in her body screaming at her.

"You bitch!" Ser Meryn Trant attempted to lunge at Y/N. Ser Meryn didn't get very far when Bronn placed himself in the way.

"Bronn if Ser Meryn Trant ever attacks Lady Y/N Stark again, kill him. In-fact make it as brutal as possible."

"No problem."

"You have no right to tell my Kings Guard what to do. I'll tell Ser Meryn when I tell him to stop!" Joffery screams Y/N remains silent as the two begin to argue again.

"Dog, I want you to protect Lady Stark from now on. If Ser Meryn attempts to hurt Lady Stark, I want you to cut him down as if you were protecting your King." Y/N's eyes reached Sandor's, in a sense it gave them the perfect advantage to spend time together, and get away with it.

"You cannot command the Kings Guard to protect a Stark. The Dog will not protect her."

"I can do both. I'll protect Your Grace and Lady Stark." The meeting then proceeds, it's rather tiresome and boring. However, that doesn't stop Y/N from trying to take every piece of information that she could. As the meeting ends, Sandor is ordered to take Y/N back to her Chambers so she could rest. Each step was once agonising, with the promise of rest Y/N limped as quickly as her legs would carry her.

Returning to the privacy of her Chambers, Y/N was relieved, her facade dropped. As Y/N turns around, she's noticing Sandor behaving almost awkwardly. Sandor can't meet her gaze as she retraced her steps towards him.

"I'm okay" Y/N reassured, in a brief moment Sandor crosses the remainder of the space between them. He had never been scared to lose anyone before. Lifting Y/N off of the ground, he gently carried her towards her bed, being extra careful as he settled her down.

"He could have killed you. I just had to watch you get beaten bloody. There was nothing I could have done. I let that bastard hurt you." Sandor crossed the room looking for that peculiar box that held everything he was going to need to help Y/N get patched up again.

"If you had gotten involved, Joffery would have had you killed. Sandor, you're the only thing besides my sister that's preventing me from going insane." Sandor crouched on the floor, slowly beginning to undo Y/N's shoes to get them off of her feet.

"Little Swan, I promise you, there is nothing to fear. I'm not going anywhere. Do you understand, nothing or anyone will ever stop me from being near you? Do you understand? I'll strike them down with my big fucking sword! Can you stand? It's probably best if you change first." Y/N slipped off of the bed, standing to her feet. Sandor couldn't stop himself as he gripped ahold of her to keep her steady. Despite being covered in her blood, Y/N still looked so beautiful. Notwithstanding the Lannister Red and Gold that covered her body, it complimented her. He realises that she's the perfect height for him to cover her face in an all too familiar paste. Disregarding the pain, Y/N can't take her eyes off of Sandor as he brings her a safety only he can provide.

As Y/N lifts her hand to touch the scarred side of Sandor's face, she notices how he flinches but, that doesn't stop her gently tracing over the scarred tissue. The two are mesmerised with each other. Ever so slowly, their faces get closer with the others. Y/N rubbed her nose over Sandor's playfully, trying to obtain an extreme rare smile to appear on Sandor's lips. Beautiful laughter broke out when she achieved her goal. Sandor had become besotted with the Little Swan who was as graceful as she was feisty. His large rough hand gradually made his way to her shoulder, drawing her closer towards him. Sandor had never felt like this before toward any woman, and now that he held you close to him, suddenly he realised just how much he yearned for this.

Y/N closed the gap between them, with parted lips they're lips welcomed each other. The roughness of Sandor's beard brought a welcomed scratch to Y/N's face. The kiss lasted no more than a moment or two as the two pulled away, Sandor quickly rejoined their lips for a second and then a third and fourth. As they both pulled away, Y/N slowly rubbed her thumb gently over Sandor's bottom lip.

The two of them didn't say anything to the other. All of their feelings had just been expressed to each other in a series of short yet highly emotive kisses. Sandor silently patched up Y/N's injuries with an understanding that he could protect her permission granted to him by Tyrion Lannister himself.

As the days passed, Y/N realised just how badly she had been injured. It wasn't like the previous times when she bounced back in a couple of days. She was still in as much pain as she had been when she'd been beaten. But, that didn't mean Joffery gave her any time to recuperate. The day for Myrcella was to be shipped off to Dorne, Y/N stood side by side between her betrothed King Joffery and his younger Brother Tommen who was distraught in his sister's departure.

A simple walk. From the docks back to the castle. That's all it should have been. As they walked back, the people had gathered around the blockade. Sandor walked to the side of Joffery while Y/N held his hand slowly tracing small circles around the back of his hand to keep Joffery calm. The people were understandably angry and hungry as they observed their King strolling by. Upon hearing "He's a bastard!" Yelled from the crowd, Joffrey's head lifted. Pleas for food echoed off of the walls.

Something flew out of no-where, hitting Joffery directly in the face. All of the Kings guards were suddenly prepared to protect. Joffrey's calm demeanour shifted swiftly to anger demanding the person who did that.

Everything escalated so quickly after that. The people grew tired of starving and suffering, with the opportunity in front of them the people took ahold of it. Fights were breaking out in every direction. Trying to find Sandor he was quick to find with a screaming Joffery who had never looked more terrified in his life. Looking around Y/N realised Sansa was no-where to be seen.

"Sansa!! Sansa!!" Y/N screamed attempting to find her, a young man lunged for her, but she was quick to throw a punch directly into the man's jaw. This wasn't about her trying to maintain a sense of feminity, right now it was survival.

Y/N glanced as she saw Sandor go further and further away from her. Doing everything to protect Joffery, men came out of no-where trying to attack her with all their might. Y/N fought her way through trying to remember what her Father taught her. Hearing Sansa's scream broke Y/N from her trance as she pushed through the crowds fighting her way through down into an alleyway.

Hearing the sound of a slap and Sansa began to struggle against whoever had followed her down. Picking up her skirts Y/N slipped the knife from underneath it and began sprinting towards her younger sister.

A group of men were forcing Sansa on the ground as she struggled beneath them. Y/N realised what they were about to attempt to do to her precious little sister. She wouldn't let it happen.

"Let her go now." Y/N gripped the knife in her hand well aware that she could use it. Y/N had never killed a man before, but she was more than willing to do so to protect her sister.

"Look we got here, another Stark bitch. Two for the price of one." Y/N had enough. Enough of Joffery. Enough of everything going on around her. Enough of being away from her family. Enough of the torture that she went through, of what Sansa went through. As the first man attempted to attack her, she sliced the man's stomach open with ease. Dropping to the floor dead, the men began to realise just how much danger they were in.

As they stood there trying to work out a way to get the upper hand on the eldest Stark daughter, their faces suddenly drained off all colour. Y/N didn't have to look behind her to know who it was. As the men ventured to flee one by one Sandor and Y/N worked as a team to take down the remaining men. Sansa froze in horror at the sight unfolding before her. The second the last man was down, Y/N dropped to her knees, enclosing her arms around her sister.

"You're okay now. I'm here. I'm here." Slowly helping her little sister up, Y/N was quickly reminded of her injuries, but that wasn't her concern right now. Getting Sansa safe mattered more than anything.

"You are to as close to me as possible okay if you need to use the knife okay. Just like you did with these dumb fuckers" Sandor lifted Sandor over his shoulder, as you proceeded to match the pace with Sandor's large ones. Getting through the riot was brutal. Each turn brought more violence. Y/N understood that these people were starving they had no food to eat. As men were dying on the battlefield, the people were starving there too.

The second they were back within the castle walls. Y/N made sure that Sansa was in good hands. Y/N felt an arm grab hers and she almost swung for it's the owner.

Turning around, Y/N became very aware that her handmaidens had come to return her to her Chambers. Y/N knew that Joffery was a wicked, disgusting, pathetic excuse for a King, but she did not understand how much of a coward he was too. He was letting his subjects starve to fund a war that he had started. She couldn't let the people starve. She wouldn't. Moving as quickly as possible Y/N changed her dress into one, that was less bloody before she began the march towards wherever Joffery was.

"Little Swan, wherein the fuck are you going?" Sandor's voice broke Y/N's determination to find her forward of a beloved.

"Going to find my beloved King Joffery." As Y/N snarled as she mentioned Joffery, Y/N wanted answers. Did Joffery not think of the consequences of his words? Did he deliberately put everyone in danger? Y/N knew that she and Sansa's lives didn't matter to him, but his mother, Uncle and Brother? Surely they mattered somewhere in his world. The King had no heart.

"Do you think that's a good idea? You appear to want to slice him in half?" Sandor took hold of Y/N's hand, pulling her back towards him. She knew that leading herself to Joffery's Chambers could guide her into another beating, but she was exhausted of the King having no sense of morals and a sense of conscious.

"The King needs to learn that his actions put everyone around him in danger. Including his Mother and Brother. He didn't think about anything over then trying to get vengeance over people throwing a cow pie at him. Those people out there are starving and, he wonders why they're getting desperate. Sandor, he can believe that everything is perfectly normal because the desperation is not his concern every day. If I'm going to marry Joffery, then I want to be able to at least make sure the people, my people are fed and watered." Sandor's hand slipped down her arm to her hand, taking it so softly.

"Speaking to him while your angry is not a good idea. Little Swan, you know that. Go back to your Chambers and think about this. You're smarter than that. I'll come and visit you later to check on your injuries. " Y/N hated that Sandor was correct. She wasn't thinking about it logically. Y/N was playing the Game of Thrones and fighting for herself and Sansa. They needed to survive in a world that was so foreign to them both.

Unbeknownst to Sandor Clegane and Y/N they were being watched by an unknown ally. Tyrion Lannister watched upon the two's interaction puzzled by how such a beautiful young woman could have fallen for a man like the Hound.

"I do not understand what Lady Stark sees in him." Tyrion pondered as he observed the two talking amongst themselves. Tyrion was well aware of the soft gaze appearing the young woman's face.

"Who the fuck knows? In all honesty, who the fuck cares. I can't say I'm not a little disappointed cause I wouldn't mind some alone time with the Lady Stark. I do like my woman feisty and Lady Y/N Stark is certainly that." Tyrion shot Bronn a look, but he couldn't blame her. Y/N Stark was proving to be something.

"Which is why when the time comes we need to make sure of it that Y/N gets out of here without a scratch on her. I'm afraid if it doesn't happen soon, Lady Y/N Stark may soon die."

"That would be a bloody shame now, wouldn't it? A world where a woman so beautiful doesn't exist. Whatever you need me to do consider it done especially if it means giving that Trant bloke a hidin'."

"You might regret saying that. Now come we have a lot to do."

#The Hounds Heart #sandor clegane imagines #Sandor clegane imagine #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones imagines #sandor clegane one shot #sandor clegane oneshot #game of thrones oneshot #game of thrones one shot #Part 3

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moonbeambucky · 5 years

Text

Lance, Interrupted

Pairing: Lance Tucker x Reader Word Count: 4442 Warnings: fluff, light smut

Summary: Weather, accidents and a new friend plague Lance with interruptions as he tries to spend time with you

A/N: What’s a drabble any way? hehe this one kind of got away from me in the word count but I think it’s worth it

The sky is as blue and bright as the ocean whose cool waves lap along the coast. A mass of cubic white houses and blue domed churches are nestled into the mountainside, with the scent of food and wine mixing in with the salt filled air, or at least that’s how your mother described it to you.

Your parents were travelling again, this time in Greece, sending you breathtaking pictures and videos of them enjoying the beautiful landscape and delicious food.

“Look how incredible that looks,” you swiped to the next photo, angling your phone so Lance could see it.

“I still don’t think it’s fair that your parents are away on our anniversary,” Lance huffed, raising an eyebrow to you.

Seven beautiful years of marriage had passed and yet you could still remember every detail of your wedding like it was yesterday. As your anniversary approached you and Lance were mulling over ideas on how to celebrate, deciding on a long weekend in Turks and Caicos, but when you asked your parents if they could watch Ariel and Theodore they regretfully declined.

Their own trip had been booked for a while and you understood. Besides, you didn’t need to be on a beautiful island to celebrate your love. With the kids fast asleep you and Lance had the perfect opportunity to show each other just how much you mean to one another right here.

Reaching over to turn off the lamp, you rolled over into Lance’s arms. He wrapped you into the warmth of his chest, smooth and solid as you placed your hand against it. The tip of his nose grazed along your forehead prompting you to tilt your head up to meet his lips. They were soft against yours, lingering with the taste of chapstick. His tongue parted your lips, your hips shifted against him as he swallowed all the soft moans you offered him like sweet music.

Strong hands pulled you on top of him, guiding your hips to grind against his growing arousal. A flash of lightning illuminated the darkened sky outside the window and a loud roll of thunder made you flinch.

Lance chuckled softly, the shadow of a smile spread across his face as you playfully scolded him for laughing at you.

“What!?” he said, shifting to sit up with you still in his lap. “You’re adorable.

Face to face again you could see the love in his eyes through another flash of lightning. Your arms went around his neck as he pulled you closer to him.

“I love you,” you said in tandem, laughing and smiling again before your lips molded together.

Clothes were discarded, thrown carelessly on the floor as you were desperate to feel the bareness of your skin against each other’s. Rain was hitting the window in a steady rhythm just as you were moving on top of Lance. With your hands intertwined together you were climbing the ladder of ecstasy, nearly reaching the top until–

“Mommy!”

Ariel sobbed outside your door.

In an instant you were off him, heart pounding as you scrambled to find anything to wear. Lance groaned, rolling his head back on the pillow as he suffered with the loss of you around him, covering himself with the blanket for modesty.

With your tank top and sleep shorts on you opened the door, turning on the light in the hallway to find Ariel sitting with her head in her knees, rivers of tears running down her face that she lifted at the sound of your gentle voice.

“What’s wrong Ariel?” You swallowed a heavy gulp to steady your breath, your heart still racing from the unexpected interruption.

She stood up with open arms wanting to be lifted up. “The thunder,” she sobbed against your neck, the wetness of tears mixing in with your sweat glistened skin. “It was too loud, I got scared.”

“Oh sweetheart, everything’s okay.” You hugged her tightly against you, comforting her as much as you could and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I know thunder sounds scary sometimes but you’re safe here. Mommy and Daddy will never let anything happen to you.”

She pulled her head back to look at you, her eyes welling with tears, “You promise?”

Your thumb swiped gently at the wetness on her cheeks, staring into her deeply innocent eyes as you reassured, “I promise Starfish.”

Ariel smiled at her nickname and you felt relieved to see your sweet girl happy again. You carried her back to her room, tucking her in and making sure Teddy was snuggled right up against her.

She asked if you would stay with her until she fell asleep and although you know you can’t make a habit out of this you couldn’t tell her no. You wondered how Lance was in your absence as you settled beside her, watching as the blues and greens of her night light danced on the wall, swirling softly like ocean waves.

When you were certain she was asleep you gently crept out of the room, peeking in on Theo just to be sure he was asleep (and thankfully he was) before you got back into your bedroom.

Lance was sitting up against the headboard scrolling through his phone.

“Sorry about that,” you said, climbing into bed.

“No need to apologize. Everything okay?” He overheard the reason for Ariel’s interruption, wishing he could have helped comfort her but obviously he couldn’t in the state he was in, the state which was now lost; you hadn’t realized how long it took for Ariel to fall back asleep.

“I’m sorry babe.” Your lips pressed into a thin line. “We could try again, I just have to pee first.”

“Nah,” he said, not having to say the mood had passed. “Go pee then get your sweet ass back here.” He smacked your cheeks as you got out of bed, laughing as you rubbed them on your walk to the bathroom.

Even though it was disappointing to have been interrupted during sex, you and Lance knew the importance of putting your children first. Plus, there was always tomorrow.

The kitchen was busy with everyone helping out to make breakfast. Ariel pulled her little step stool in front of the sink as you held the measuring spoon out for her to pour in the almond milk needed for the oatmeal you were making. The container emptied before the cup was full.

“Hey babe,” you shouted over your shoulder hearing Lance’s footsteps behind you. “Could you get us more milk?”

Ariel continued to add oats and chia seeds into the pot as you instructed.

With Theo on his hip Lance opened the refrigerator door, smirking as he asked, “You want the nut milk?”

You shook your head at your husband, smiling and ignoring the way he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to say some sexual innuendo.

“What?” he smiled, as he held the carton. “Say it. Say you want my nut milk.”

Time slowed down as you stared at the fire burning in the depths of his eyes, biting his lip so seductively.

“What’s nut milk?” Theo asked, his question acting like a bucket of water that immediately doused the fire.

“Some milk comes from animals like cows, and other times you can get milk from nuts, like almonds or cashews,” he replied, placing Theo on top of the counter.

You shifted in front of him so he didn’t fall and Lance uncapped the almond milk, letting Ariel place her hands along the carton as he mainly held it up to fill the rest of the measuring cup. Afterwards Lance turned to you, his lips ghosting above your ear as his warm breath softly whispered his desire to give you his nut milk tonight.

Heat flooded your cheeks as you switched places with him. You grabbed the berries from the fridge, placing them on the counter for the kids to wash them as you went to the stove. Some splashing ensued as Ariel and Theo washed the fruit but with Lance’s supervision the mess was kept to a minimum, the giggling however was contagious.

Setting the table was normally the kids’ job but since they were having fun you grabbed everything, all while stirring the oatmeal occasionally. With everything divided into bowls you let Ariel and Theo throw handfuls of fruit on top though you controlled the cinnamon to a tiny sprinkle.

“Easy Theo,” Lance said as he drank nearly his whole sippy cup in one go.

Theodore let out a big breath after gulping his juice down. “I’m tirsty.”

It was hotter than normal today and especially humid after the thunderstorm so you didn’t worry about it too much.

Swallowing a spoonful, you asked Lance if he would be able to drive Theo to his play date today. He had been playing with Terrence and Jordyn quite often lately, with Ariel even wanting to join in ever since their parents got a dog.

Your children were obsessed, begging you and Lance every day for a furry friend of their own. Neither of you grew up with a dog, and Lance’s childhood was filled with so much gymnastics practice there wouldn’t have been a single minute he could have devoted to caring for one. Knowing Dorothy though, if Lance wanted one she would have gotten one, taken care of the animal herself despite the financial hardship just to see the smile on her son’s face.

Ever since the kids began hounding you, which sometimes meant a headache inducing encounter of them crawling on all fours and barking (it really was not helping their case) you and Lance began discussing it.

Technically it was possible. Your schedules were already pretty flexible. With the success of Tucker Gymnastics Lance was able to hire more employees which helped out in having him available to watch the kids. You weren’t travelling anymore but you still had Skype sessions and phone calls with athletes, on top of writing think pieces when needed. Adding a dog to the mix would almost be like having another child but you could make it work. Besides, if it meant that much to Ariel and Theodore to have a dog you were absolutely going to get them a dog.

“I can drop him off on my way to the center,” Lance answered, with a knowing glimmer in his eye of your surprise to take the kids to the shelter tomorrow.

The day was pretty full, starting with you and Ariel spending some time together, first with some errands and then to get your nails done. She picked out a shimmering watermelon color and insisted you had to match. Theo was picked up on the way home and the kids helped out once again when it was time to make dinner.

Giving them tasks was not only an important way to teach them responsibility but to show them that in this family everyone is part of the team. With everyone’s hands washed you began preparing dinner, starting with the chicken that needed seasoning.

Spices were divided between the kids, each with their own set of measuring spoons. It was a messy math lesson as you tried to familiarize Ariel with fractions while preventing Theo from overpouring each spice. You were smart enough to let them pour first over the sink before you brought the pan over chicken over.

Ariel was smoother in her technique of spreading out the spices while Theo was… not. Maybe Lance wouldn’t mind super salty chicken.

“Mama, tirsty,” Theo said, picking up a cup from the drain board.

A worrisome frown spread across your face. “Theo, did you have anything to drink at Terrence and Jordyn’s house?”

He shook his head back and forth and midway changed his mind to affirm he had. Perhaps a call to his pediatrician is in order.

Lance got home just in time to help set the table, but not before lifting the kids up in both arms and spinning them around the living room. Laughter filled the air as they twirled, plopping each one down with a kiss.

He came up behind you, arms around your waist as you plated the food.

“I missed you baby,” he said, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Mmmm, I missed you too,” you sighed, smiling as he brought the kids to the table.

As you sat down you covered your mouth to hide the smile forming as Lance took a bite. His face scrunched as he chewed and you shifted your eyes away from his bewildered gaze.

“Daddy do you like it?”

“We helped maked it!” Theo added.

He swallowed his forkful with a smile, correcting Theo’s grammar first before proclaiming, “It’s delicious!”

It was a half-lie, everything was delicious except for the over salted chicken. You shifted a plate of lime wedges that seemed to help towards Lance with a devilish smirk as he washed down the taste with his drink.

Clean up was quick and after some playtime together the kids were given their baths, and tucked into bed with a story.

“Finally,” Lance said, sighing happily as he shut your bedroom door. He turned to face you, cupping your cheeks as he brought his lips to yours, desperate and hungry for the time you’d be spending alone together.

He was needy, his tongue exploring the depths of your mouth, and as your heart began to race you pumped the brakes, pulling away.

“Lance, I hate to do this but Sue asked me to write a quick blurb.” His expression faded to disappointment the longer you spoke. “I’m sorry, I promise, thirty minutes and I can bang this out.”

It was too late before you realized the words you used, and Lance already jumped on the opportunity to say, “Thirty minutes and then I’m gonna bang you out.”

A smile, a laugh, and a few more stolen kisses before you left him for the office downstairs to work. It was a little more than thirty minutes but you finished, heading back upstairs with one thing in mind.

Pushing the door open you saw Lance laying down with his eyes shut, his lower half wrapped in a white towel with his notorious tattoo sticking up from the top. He smelled deliciously clean, with light notes of citrus and sweet musk.

His lips were blowing soft puffs of air as he slept. With the light still on you know he must not have meant to fall asleep. As much as you would love to let him rest you knew the best way to wake him up.

Untucking the towel you opened it to expose him, giving a few teasing licks before taking him in your mouth. Lance awoke with a moan, grinning and leaning on his elbows to get a better view of you.

It felt so good to see the pleasure spread across his face, to make him feel good. To finally have time together… that is until the door pushed open

“Mommy? Daddy?”

You forgot to lock the door.

“Oh fff– ” You scrambled to get off Lance once again, as he sat up, wrapping the towel back over himself.

Theo rushed in, sniffling and rubbing his eyes.

“What’s wrong Pumpkin?” you asked, but looking down you saw the issue, a large wet spot on his pajamas in between his legs.

“I wetted the bed,” he cried.

Now was not the time to correct his grammar, you didn’t want him to think you were upset with him for having an accident.

“There’s no need for tears my sweet boy. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” you smiled, taking his hand. Turning back towards Lance you asked, “Can you help with the sheets?”

He nodded his head before letting out a huff, “I’m gonna need a few minutes.”

You understood, giving him an apologetic smile before you took Theo into the bathroom to clean him up. By the time you were done Lance was waiting in Theo’s room, fully dressed. He had stripped the bed, removed the mattress cover which was thankfully water resistant, replacing the sheets with new ones.

Lance took Theo from your arms, freshly washed and wrapped in a hooded frog towel.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked, kissing Theo’s soft cheek.

He nodded in return and Lance placed him down, grabbing the new underwear you pulled out.

As Lance made sure Theo was dry, you held out two options for pajamas. “Fishies or dinosaurs?”

“Uhhmm, fishies! No, dinosaurs!”

With Theo cleaned up, changed and finally in bed you and Lance went back to your bedroom. Lance laid back on the mattress, not giving himself a chance to get comfortable before he popped up.

“Wait, did Theo pee again before we put him to bed?”

“Yeah, after I cleaned him up. I think he just drank too much today.”

“We need to make sure he paces himself and takes more potty breaks.” You hummed in agreement. “And next time we need to lock the door.”

Lance glared at you, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry. He didn’t see anything, right?” Lance shook his head. “Two nights in a row, wow,” you chuckled.

“It’s definitely not funny,” he deadpanned.

Another night and the mood was killed. You needed to shower anyway, inviting Lance to join you but he was pretty tired. When you were finally ready for bed you snuggled up to him pressed a kiss to his cheek and excitedly anticipated the following day.

“Where are we going?” Theo asked, dangling his legs from the car seat.

“It’s a surprise Pumpkin,” Lance answered.

Ariel wasn’t satisfied with that answer. “What’s the surprise? You haaaave to tell me!” She stressed the word so dramatically.

Neither you or Lance gave in, instead driving an unfamiliar route to the animal shelter about a half hour away. When you finally pulled up and took the kids out of the car they didn’t know where you were until you told them.

“We’re getting a dog!” They both rang out, jumping up and down.

Hand in hand you walked into the shelter. Lance filled out forms as you tried to calm the kids down and remind them to use their inside voices.

“Some of the doggies here might be scared to meet new people, so we have to be calm and quiet, okay?”

Not long after a smiling woman named Angela greeted and guided you to the back. Lance held Ariel by the hand and you carried Theo just to ensure he didn’t stick his little fingers where they shouldn’t be.

The barking grew louder as you got closer to the section for dogs and once inside it broke your heart. Each one leapt up, their paws pressed against the chain door of their enclosure, wagging their tails and barking as you entered. Their pens had bowls for food and water, a bed and a toy but you could see in their eyes how lonely they were.

Angela gave you some background on the dogs, some were turned in by people that couldn't take care of them anymore, others were left with nowhere else to go after their owner died, but most were found on the street.

“Every dog is up to date on their shots and any that have shown signs of aggression are not permitted to be up for adoption until they are cleared by our behavioral specialist.”

That was reassuring especially with the amount of pit bulls that were unfortunately there. It reminded you of your first article for the Northwest Herald when the news broke about Michael Vick and his dog fighting ring. You knew it was never the dog’s fault for reacting to the trauma they’ve lived through, but still you needed to make the best choice as a parent.

Theo was squirming to get out of your arms, itching to go up to the dogs. Lance was kneeling beside Ariel as they stood watching a playful terrier mix jumping around, excitedly trying to lick them through the fence.

The thought of picking only one out of all of these sweet dogs seemed impossible. As you and Theo visited each gate the dogs were practically begging for you to adopt them. Every dog barked, jumped, wagged their tails, all but one in the corner.

You and Theo walked quietly to the cage, glancing at the name of the dog with his head resting on his paws– Wally. He was the cutest thing, a beautiful deep beige color that reminded you of wet sand. He had a little bit of black around his muzzle with a speckle of white by his nose. It matched his paws, splotches of white on them as if he ran through paint. His ears were flopped over, nearly blocking his big chocolate eyes.

“Wally misses his mom,” Angela explained. “Trixie was adopted the other day. She was a boxer but we think he’s got some pit in him.”

No wonder this poor baby looked so sad. He was just two months old, born in the shelter, the only one to survive his litter and now he was all alone.

“Is he sweet?” you asked. You’re not sure why; looking at Wally you could tell there wasn’t a bad bone in his body.

Angela nodded and stood back as you and Theo got closer to the gate.

“Theo, say ‘Hi Wally’ okay?”

“Hi Wahyee.”

At the sound of Theo’s soft voice Wally picked his head up, unsure at first if he wanted to come over but the more Theo called for him the more his long tail began to swipe back and forth along the floor.

It wasn’t long before he got up to approach the fence cautiously. You extended your hand first, placing it low so Wally could sniff you and when he did his tail was wagging furiously from side to side. His tongue shot out to quickly lick your hand. You took Theo’s hand, holding the back of it up to Wally who sniffed it first and then jumped with excitement.

“That’s the happiest I’ve seen him in days!”

“Lance, Ariel, come over here,” you called, watching Wally continue to slobber all over Theo’s hand making him giggle.

“Puppy!” Ariel gasped.

After she received her own fair share of licks you and Lance had an unspoken conversation with your expressions; bright eyes, widening smiles, a few nods of the head. You were on the same page, asking Angela if she could bring him out. It was the start of a brand new beginning for Wally.

It took forever to get home after stopping at the pet store to some buy much needed items for the dog. Ariel and Theo threw in nearly every toy into the cart, most of which were put back, but you gave them the special job of choosing a new leash and collar for him.

“I want this one!” Ariel exclaimed, holding a pink leash patterned with popsicles.

Theo picked out a green harness with bones on it. You were sure Wally wouldn’t mind not matching.

Dinner was a lot more distracting than usual, with the kids focused on Wally as he ate from his bowl behind them. The whole day was spent playing with the dog and letting him explore the house.

There was a minor meltdown when Ariel and Theo realized he would not be sleeping in either of their beds. Tears were quickly licked away thanks to Wally which brought their smiles back.

Waving your hands in front of their faces, “Ariel, Theodore, pay attention to your food.”

“Wally wants you to eat too, okay? Come on,” Lance encouraged.

Wally. It didn’t sit right with you. There’s nothing wrong with the name, but this dog didn’t feel like a Wally.

“Do you like that name?”

Lance scrunched his nose as he gave a quick shake of his head. The kids agreed and so the rest of the night was spent coming up with names.

Sunshine, Buttercup, Tyrannosaurus; nothing seemed to suit your new furry family member.

The vibration of your phone on the countertop startled you and Wally was at your side making sure you were okay.

“Good boy,” you said, scratching his ears as you answered the call. “Hi Ava. Yes we did! He’s right here.”

You moved out of the way with Wally as Lance and the kids were about to start working on making pudding from scratch for dessert.

“I’ll have to send you pictures, he’s the cutest thing!”

With Lance’s instruction Ariel grabbed the right ingredients from the pantry, high fiving her for a job well done.

“The kids love him.”

“Nut milk!” Theo shouted.

Your head whipped around fast to see Lance holding the milk carton in his hand, cringing as he placed it on the counter.

“Cashew milk, Theo, say cashew milk!” he corrected, mouthing an apology to you.

Lance’s insistence fueled Theo’s giggling, which made Ariel laugh. Feeling left out Wally joined them and began barking to get in on the fun.

“Sorry about that Ava. Can we talk tomorrow or something? Okay great.” You hung up the phone, smirking as you came up beside Lance. “This is all your fault,” you teased Lance, “but it gave me an idea.”

With the kids in bed and the dog resting in his crate in the living room, finally you and Lance had some time to be alone.

“Come here,” he said, lifting you up and pressing his lips to yours. He walked until his shins felt the bed, gently laying you down and climbing on top of you. Clothes were being taken off in haste and just as hands began to explore each other’s bodies you heard it.

Bark, bark, bark!

“Are you kidding me!?” Lance huffed. “We’re not supposed to go to him, right?”

“Right, not when he’s barking, but if we want him to stop we need to reward him when he’s quiet so…” you nudged him off you, looking for your shirt.

Lance sighed heavily, “When are your parents coming back?”

Your footsteps were quiet as you hung out near the stairs. When there was a steady break from barking you went downstairs and grabbed the dog treats.

“What a good boy!” you praised, letting him eat the treats from your hand.

He circled his bed a few times, scratching at the material to claim it as his own before placing his head down on his outstretched paws again. He looked so different from this morning, the weight of loneliness lifted from his shoulders.

Turning around, you shut off the light and before heading back upstairs you whispered, “Goodnight Cashew.”

#lance tucker x reader #lance tucker fanfiction #lance tucker x you #lance tucker one shot #dad!lance tucker

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mcshiiin · 4 years

Text

Title: Not My Energy

Pairings: KageHina

Sypnosis: A short, sad songfic about the two where Hinata lost his ability to fly

Song used: Not my Energy by IV of Spades

[A/n: Thank you for reading! I hope u enjoy huhu]

"I've ran out of reasons, reasons to comfort my mind."

Harbingers of daybreak busted his windows open. With gleaming dark eyes and sleek black talons, a crow stared straight to his soul. A sudden prickling sensation running from his toes began clobbering his body, rendering him paralyzed. Panting... Gasping... Drowning his mind in a sea of sorrow.

"Illusions, delusions. Confusions are running inside."

Hinata, despite sinking down the shallow waters feels as if he's floating mid-ar, going "boing boing". Slowly plummeting down the sea floor, he never hit the bottom. Instead, he landed rather harshly on the plywood surface of the gym. A familiar stinging pain on his palm smiled at him viciously. Taken aback, he grabbed his thumping, hollow chest and inhaled as much air as he could. An unforgiving force clashed against his torso, almost obliteraring him before the ceiling collapsed.

"Pale lips and dark lies has conquered the dreamer's eyes."

Poring dreamily at the honey glazed tree tops with hooded eyes, a sigh escaped from his drought ridden lips. While licking away the parchness on his lips, a worried yet kind gaze cut through him from the opened door.

"Sho-kun, you're going to be alright. Don't worry sweetie, we're here for you."

"Nii-chan! Hang in there. I love you!"

The warmth from his sister's hug dissipated into thin air. The soft caress from his Mom ghosted above his puffed out cheeks. Forcing his lips to curl upwards, he fooled them. Just as how their words of affirmation and consolidation were mere lies to comfort him.

" 'Cause there is something in those eyes I can never find, boy."

"Hinata boke..."

Shoyo swore Kageyama's voice were softer than ever. Terrified to face him, the bed ridden boy looked away. His bones shaking. His muscles tensed up.

"I don't want to dive in those same steel blue orbs..."

He kept his mouth silent. He kept his resolve solid. Then it crumbled down.

A feverish touch was ignited from Kageyama's fingertips grazing atop Hinata's trembling hand. The setter is careful enough not to break him, delicately and softly, he slid his hand and interwined it with his partner's. Shoyo's ribcage shattered, his throbbing heart and strained heartstrings tore it down.

His orbs stung with pain as he stared back at steel blue ones.

"I'm sick and tired of the noices, the voices. Everything seems magical."

"We're here for you, Hinata."

"Call us anytime!"

"I'm sure everything will be figured out by the adults. Cheer up, Hinata!"

"Let's buy popsicles when you're discharged, ne Shoyo?"

"Here's some food for you, eat up. You're getting thinner. Ne? I'm the best senpai aren't I?"

"gET WELL SOON AND WE'LL PRAY FOR YOU!"

"Don't worry too much. Idiots don't get sick, tch."

"Tsukki's right, you'll be okay, Hinata."

"I--no we, are here for you. Don't worry about catching up to class, I can teach you anytime!"

"Get some rest and take care please."

"I won't bother you with my words, Hinata-kun. You'll be okay, I'll pray for it."

"Rest up well, kid."

Everything and everyone seemed to pass by in a blur. Their faces muddled together like a murky pond. Indiscernible. Chafing. Quaint. As if it never happened, as if he never heard anything.

"I'm sorry but there's nothing that we can do..."

"D-doctor no-!"

What? He heard nothing. His mother's face didn't crumple to despair. Her hands didn't ball into a fist. Her lips did not quiver. She never looked at him with those eyes.

No. Natsu is a sweet and clingy sister, her hugging him to death is nothing. She always said that his hands are rough, calloused, and big. They're also warm, and emollient. Maybe that's why she's holding it tight. Oh? Natsu is drooling. He chuckled, overseeing the shuddering figure of his dear sister.

Such an ethereal dream it is.

"And yes, my mind is awakened, dead conscience. Eveyday's a torture for me."

Panting heavily whilst swimming in a sea if sweat, Shoyo is wide awake. But, awake from what? Running away from what, his reality or his nightmares? Scampering to and fro, for what? Just to slam his head on a rock, trying to shake his dreams up.

He doesn't know what's hounding hin anymore.

He run a hand through his thick tuft of hair, unable to get back to sleep. A frown creeping up on his lips as he tries to pry his gaze to his legs. His world stilled. His breathing stopped. His mind blown to smithereens.

It hurts. The seering pain from mid-thigh down to his calf. It hurts, so he screamed.

"No I am not holding on to the darkness, 'cause you're already in my mind."

Natsu must be lying, his hands isn't big at all! She probably hasn't seen Kageyama's slender, setter hands. They look also pretty. Tobio's obviously taking good care of it, he bet that he goes as far as taking it to the nail salon. He's both dilligent and an idiot. He wants himself to be in a perfect condition so he can exert his best every game.

Shoyo wonders what lotion his setter is using. He want to buy one for himself too. How irksome it is to look at your partner's long fingers, perfectly groomed nails (it must be nice to have a manicure once), and mosturized, vanilla scented palms whilst yours is anything like that.

"Hmm spacing out?"

Tobio snaked his arms to his frail waist. Nudging his face deep into Shoyo's neck. So warm. So cool. So comfortable. Too real.

"Nah, I'm barely hanging."

"And if you would walk alone, then just do it. The clock is ticking backwards."

A tall, tall wall looms before him. The view from the top. He wants to see it. But he never can, unless alone.

And now, he's more alone than ever.

"Onigiri, pork buns, curry, what do you want honey?"

He's out in the cold again. Jumping higher, digging deeper, receiving with his face to no end. Wheezing as his body thrives, playing as his blood pulsiates. His heart more alive than before. His grin toothier than before. Hinata Shoyo loving too hard ever than before.

The pure joy from he gets from being with the team. The steam he emitts whenever Tsukishima pushes his buttons as Yamaguchi fell in line with laughing at him. The always fidgetty Yachi and Asahi-san. His superb senpais. That reminds him, he need to ask Nishinoya-senpai to teach him the rolling thunder double. The hardworking second years, the goddess Kiyoko-san, everyone. Even Daichi-san's roaring voice along with Suga-san's refreshing smile.

And of course, the skull-crusher milk boy who knows no word except Boke.

"I'm going alone."

"I ain't got it all, I don't care. You're not my energy."

Extending his arms, reaching with his hands, everyone is too far away.

Lying awake for hours, figuring how to run, how to fly.

Then, his bed decided to swallow him up.

A stringent touch engulfed his throat that produced an acrid cry from his mouth. The need for air is urgent, but his compressed windpipes aches with the mere presence of oxygen flowing through. For a second he thought the hold loosen, then his limbs. were vehemently ripped apart.

As blood splattered, his lower region were mangled.

"Your tears are in laughter while your smile is in despair."

Happiness looks good in Kageyama and Natsu. No doubt, hands down, bets raised.

Their carefree laughter bounced off the four walls of his room. Pearly white teeth are exposed as their lips ae stretched up to a smile. As far as their drinking game goes, Natsu is losing. Yes, they're drinking milk, much to Kageyama's delight.

Shoyo lost a long atime ago and the two milk heads are on it. The way their eyebrows knits together in concentration, noses scrunched up, and cheeks puffed out is a sight to see. You don't get to watch Kageyama with a child that doesn't cry within his mere presence, let alone play with him.

"I can't hold it in! I'm going to pee!"

The shorter ball of fluff ran outside as fast as her legs could carry her. Just a little bit more... three more steps... two... then one. She got in!

Natsu came back to her brother wiping his tears as he cackle like a rooster. He reminded her of the Kuroo Tetsurou that he once mentioned, bedhead, hyena laugh and all. When she glanced to her Kageyama-nii-chan, she was almost blinded. His higantic smiles were presented at her boldly. A soft glow from the dying sun illuminated his face. She can feel the love strongly eminating from these two.

Just as the puzzle is coming on together, someone had to filp the table and topple off the pieces.

Whimpers and hiccups. Rattling and rustles. Disintegrating and decaying. Shoyo-nii-chan is crying.

One end of his lips tugged upward. Blood-curling smirk emblazoned on his dainty face. And as she peek at the door opened ajar, tears came rolling down her rosy cheeks, staining the fabric of her shirt with pure sadness that a child can't comprehend. A younger sister shouldn't see her brother's soul being chipped off like that, you know.

"The poison of your tongue has killed all your truthful words."

His throat is a sand paper being stroked on a piece of wood that produces a nasty sound. It aches. It's painful to shout. It's straining. He too doesn't like sound coming off from his mouth. Disdainful words that tarnishes their bond, lacerating sentences that makes him bleed too.

"I don't need you!"

Yes I do.

"Go away!"

Please stay.

"I didn't like the food. It was awful."

They're my favorite, thank you.

"When I said I don't wan't to it, it means I don't! Don't force me!"

Maybe I'm a bit hungry?

"I AM OKAY. I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP I CAN DO IT BY MY FUCKING SELF!"

I am a lost cause.

"Pale lips and dark eyes has broken the dreamer's lies."

He inaudibly shrieked one morning when he woke up. The world was wet with dew as it sleepily waved back at him. He tried to wave back, but the shock of living in monochrome froze him. Then he tumbled down with a thud.

For a moment he forgot what predicament he's in and tried to stand up only to out balance himself and landed face first down their wooden floor. Natsu, who was never asleep the entire night, came rushing by to her brother's room beside hers. Clearly shocked and bemused at her nii-chan's bleeding nose and busted lip, she stood frozen. A part of her wants to laugh but the other half actually feels bad. And good thing she did, because the next scene was horrifying.

"AAAAAHHHHH!"

"N-nii-chan..."

"SEND FUCKING HELP!"

A soul was broken.

"There is something in your mind you can never find, boy."

Searching. Wandering. Roaming around an unprecedented area.

What was he seeking?

He alwas have thought that it was the adrenaline. His heart beating so fast, so loud that he can hear it through his ears. An energy flowing deep within, tingling his senses, pricking under his skin. He enjoys the rush, the pain, the smile in his teammates' lips.

Yet when he stared at Kageyama, he realized it wasn't.

What kept him alive...

"Im sick and tired of the voices, the noises. Everything seems magical."

"Hinata boke..."

"Nii-chan."

"Sho-kun!"

"HINATA SHOYO!"

...was love.

"My eyes are hiding the pavements of my vacancy. You can't take the power from me."

Kageyama wish he could hold Shoyo tighter. Peacefully zoning out in his arms, a small drool pooling below his mouth, and beautiful long lashes. So angelic and breathtaking.

Yet he still fears poring directly in his partner's eyes for they scream,

"I'm going to eat you alive."

Placing a kiss atop his head, a sigh escaped his lips. Then, honey-flecked orbs dangerously stared at him. A tremble was awaken inside his body.

"I love you."

The both of then were taken aback by his sudden words. Hinata was left in awe, speechless while Kageyama quickly recovered his composure. He came into terms with his feelings finally just right now, it's now or never.

"I want you more than any perfect toss. It's you that I want to hit my balls. We're partners, aren't we? I want to be by your side, holding you, loving you. We'll drink hundred liters of milk, we'll eat as many pork buns as you want. I want to spend my life with you."

"Kageyama-kun..."

"I know it'a sudden but Hina--!"

"Loving means being alive. Being alive is being able to love,

But you see, living, is not my energy."

-FIN

#haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#angst #fanfic #songfic #ivos #karasuno #kageyama #tobio #hinata #shoyo #au? maybe?#kagehina

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jay-and-dean · 5 years

Text

Captive Chapter 4 : Tapes

gif by @justjensenanddean

_Dean x Reader_

Summary :

Dean Winchester is an enemy.

Every man of letters and hunters are enemies.

During the Great Purge in Europe, when every european Men of Letters allied to eradicate monsters once and for all, using hunters as their cold-blooded hounds, long before the BMOL took an interest in USA, they killed my mother, and made me go through hell. I killed so many of them I lost count, and lived a life on the run. Until one day I heard about American Men of Letters extinction, and decided to try and find peace there.

That was without counting on the exile of some BMOL, and the existence of the two best hunters of the world.The fisrt time I saw Sam Winchester, I almost killed him, and Dean has me now…

He is going to kill me, right ?

***CAPTIVE MASTERLIST***

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Future warnings : Violence and captivity, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, Smut.

Chapter Warnings : Violence, Swearing, Smut, Fluff.

Words : 7.2k

NOTE : I highly recommand you listen to this song before or at the end of the chapter to enjoy it fully.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Ro3OYiIERA

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4. Tapes

Tape 1

Dean’s Pov

A man in a suit appears in front of the camera. Behind him, some kind of lab, but with supernatural symbols everywhere.

"Oh no..." Y/n whispers.

"You know that man ?" I asks.

She just nods. She's shaking so bad... I take her hand in mine under the table.

The man has a file against his chest like it was very precious. He gives the date and the time of the day.

"We are here because the council refused our project... Anyway, this is an opportunity that will never be repeated." He seems beyond upset. "Fortunately some of us seem way more aware of what it could represent." He pulls on his sleeves and Y/n jumps a little. "We are doing it anyway. We are creating it... In this file you'll find the names of the people involved in the project and the proceedings. This has to be perfectly secret, because our leaders don't approve this experiment and would get us executed for it."

"That explains why they don't want anyone to find the tapes" Sam says. "It's compromising."

The man gets a photo of a womanout the file and shows it to the camera before sliding it inside the file again.

"This girl is the perfect subject. She's young, attractive, perfectly healthy and she needs money enough to do this. We already prepared her. She's ready."

"This is my mom..." Y/n says sadly, her eyes piercing the wall. “I remember her now.”

I press pause, seeing how hard this is for her. Sam takes the file and opens it.

"It says here that they... Wow..."

"Tell me" she says.

"They opened her to carve symbols on her bones, and tattooed her under her hair. Nothing could be seen... Then they send her to seduce the Target. I don't know what..."

"My father" she cuts him. "They didn't kidnapped me... They, fuck, they created me. I’m a…"

Her voice breaks with my heart. She lets go of my hand and rubs her face.

"Y/n..." I say but when my hand reaches for her she flinches.

"Do they say who the Target is ?" she coldly asks Sammy.

"No..." he looks through the file. “No, they don’t but he seems to be a big deal…”

She gets up and takes the file from Sam’s hands.

She’s shaking so hard photos and papers fall.

“Y/n… Calm down” I say taking the pieces of the file that fell and touching her wrists.

She looks in my eyes. There are so many emotions there that I can’t read them.

“We will understand eventually. But we can stop for today if you want…” I say bending my face closer to hers.

“No…” she whispers. “I need to know why they…”

“As you can see the subject succeeded” the man says approaching Y/n’s pregnant mother. “The Target were reached and never knew. The baby seems to be a girl but the powers she will have will make her useful anyway…”

“Please…” the woman sobs.

“The subject is becoming reluctant…”

“My baby she… I can feel her…”

“Of course, woman, you are 6 months pregnant ! So, today we are going to put the subject through a little more tests and…”

“No, please, you hurt her” the woman sobs and the man roll his eyes taking a long needle.

Sam accelerates the video. He’s right. This is a long succession of torture on a pregnant woman, only needles and tears.For the way my brother swallows a lot, I know he’s nauseous.

When I turn toward Y/n, something has change on her face, it’s like she didn’t feel anything at all anymore.Her eyes are blue again, perfectly stern, her fist clenched on her thighs. She’s wearing that armor again…

The second the baby is born, the Men of Letters take her and her mother screams a harrowing scream. This is barely tolerable.

The man in a suit has to raise his voice to be heard above her supplications until one of them injects something to make her fall asleep.

“The baby is perfectly healthy. Her skin is already cleaned and clear, she didn’t cry at all and just coughed. Her navel is already healed and formed. She weights 7,7 pounds…”

While he continues describing Y/n, someone brings her in front of the camera. She’s pretty, way to pretty for a newborn. They already tattooed her…

The woman, Y/n’s mother, ran away and the Men of Letters went crazy. Tape 2 is all about finding her. She managed to elude all their men and the leader of the operation thinks maybe the baby helped…

Y/n is still perfectly impassive. I try to touch her hand again but she doesn’t let me, moving just an inch to make me understand. Sam looks at mewith a questioning look on his face. I don’t feel like having one of our silent talk right now, so I just stay silent, both with my mouth and my body language.

Three years pass during tape 2. Three years searching the mother and the child…

…Then they find them.

They find them and interrogate the mother in a white room for hours. Sammy press play from time to time, allowing us to catch up with what they’re saying but always speeds up when they’re beating and threatening her. They want to know everything the baby did when they were gone, every people she talked to…

Then they kill her. A nod. A bullet in the head and she’s gone.

Y/n still doesn’t move. Her eyebrows just frown unperceptively when they execute her mother like it was nothing. I have to look away for a second, my head full of her scream when I stabbed her thigh, of the bright red of her blood flowing from her head… How could she let me touch her, kiss her… I am not worthy of feeling the way I do for her.

Tape 3

“The child responds to Y/n, because the subject didn’t follow the protocol and gave her a name. She seems incredibly strong and smart, but she was spoiled and overprotected. For now, she keeps crying and refuses to eat. Blood tests came back with interesting results. Food deprivation doesn’t seem to affect her and some of the hormones are missing, her leucocytes are different…”

Y/n is three, her long baby hair falling on her back. My heart shatters looking at her cry for her mother, she’s perfectly innocent, she is a treasure. Big tears roll on her baby face while a dozen cold men examine her from every angle…

They left her alone in the dark, we can hear her yell on the next room while the man talks to the camera. He coldly enumerates what the girl can and can’t do with a disappointed voice.

“Obviously the precautions we used for her powers not to surpass us worked too much. There is no sign of telekinesis or super strength. She is a disappointment, but with the proper training, she can be useful…”

I want to tell her she’s not a disappointment, this is the only idea I have. But how could I ? I don’t even know her ?And I acted exactly like they did.

Sam stops the video.

“Keep going” she orders coldly.

“There is a lot of photos of your back, a lot of x-rays of it. Do you know why they insisted on it ?” Sam says going through the file.

“No” she states.

Tapes 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11.

I can’t stand it. I have to look away. When Sam wants to stop the tapes she whispers “keep going” through her teeth. Her eyes on the video like she needed it, glued to the nightmare her childhood was.

There was no joy or friend, no love, no cuddles. Y/n had to read when she was 4, fight when she was 5. Her fifteen-hour days were full with trainings and lessons, after that, she was locked alone in an empty room.

The first time she had to kill, she was seven. The starved werewolf dug his fangs in her flesh but she didn’t turn, she managed to kill him firing a gun bigger than her forearm with tiny trembling hands.

I suggest a pause, a snack, anything. But her only response is pressing play again.

They made her drink vampire blood and she spent three days puking her own blood, yet she didn’t turn. They stabbed her with angel blade and with normal blades, it made no difference, she still bled and suffered. I fucking did that too…

Something changed on her face between tape 6 and 7. That look on her face she has right now, like nothing matters, appeared.

Then she became “out of control”, as they said.

The first time she was 9. She sat during her boxing training and staid on the floor, her legs crossed, even when they yelled at her. When they started beating her, she didn’t move. When they electrocuted her to make her move she stayed on the floor coughing blood, until the leader came in and carried her on an isolation room, in the dark.

She stayed silent for two days, then she started becoming mad. After 5 days without any human contact, sound, food or any stimulation, she stared begging.

But she didn’t stopped here… She killed her teacher. During her daily 3 hours of general learning, she was electrocuted every time she gave a wrong answer… Until that day she took the electric stick and poke him to death with it.

Her isolation was even longer and she started begging after 4 days.

Then she stabbed her fencing instructor when he landed his hands for the third time on her ass to show her a movement. Creepy son of a bitch…

She didn’t begged at all in the isolation room, and almost starved to death. That’s when they called him.

“Mister Ketch as a really good reputation and will be the one deciding how to handle that wild animal for a while” says the leader of those sons of bitches and younger Ketch enters the room.

“She’s a child. You need to break her with child things” he just says.

Then they introduce Y/n to a young boy. They explain her she obviously needs a friend and leave the boy in her room. He’s confident, kind and explains her he will train with her. At first she seems to hate him, but she's so lonely.

Y/n clenches her jaw, something catches fire in her eyes. I open my mouth to ask her something, but what ? What can I say ? Sammy looks at the images religiously, trying to understand everything, thinking hard, like this was a case, like this was about finding the bad guy and stopping him.

I can’t. I can’t think about all of this as a case because something is liquefying my guts. I just can’t look at her anymore, she’s suddenly too impressive, too beautiful, too dangerous. My mind superimposes images of her beautiful face in bliss when I make her come and that little girl’s terrified look, I can’t proceed anything anymore and for a moment I wish I never knew her because my all world and convictions are blurry and messy now.

She never truly trusted the boy, but he was the first to play with her, talk to her about kid’ stuffs, smile at her… So when he finally made her talk about her hopes and dreams of freedom and denounced her… She broke indeed.

Tape 10 is about her being so obedient it is scary. She kills and learns everything she’s asked to, she hears about Demons and Lucifer. She is taken on missions out of the lab and the results are described as impressive.

In my peripheral vision, I can see a little smirk appear on her face. And I understand this will be over soon…

“The girl is growing. Her body is changing with puberty. No signs of rebellion in a long time but her eyes stay blue all the time now. We hope this change presages further transformations. No sign of wings yet.”

Wings ?

Sam presses pause and turns toward her, she doesn’t move but I can see her eyes fill up with tears.

“Your dad must be an angel” Sam states. “They carved and tattooed symbols on your mother and you to prevent angel radio to hear your creation…” my brother thinks out loud and she still doesn’t move. “I understand now. The enochian symbols holding you down during your development reduced you’re father’s angelic influence more than they anticipated. They wanted their own malleable Nephilim…” he moves the sheets of the file like they suddenly were decrypted.

“Can I go back to my room ?” she mutters and I’m surprised by her need to ask.

“Of course, Y/n…” I start but before I can add anything she rushes out of the room, toward the dungeon.

I get up to follow her but Sam puts a hand on my arm.

“What is it between Y/n and you ?” he finally asks like I know he wanted for a long time.

“Nothing” I lie, unable to find words to define what is happening.

“Dean, I was right… She’s not a monster, she needs our protection. They won’t stop until they have her. Powerful people are implicated.”

“I know” I nod.

“Hey, Y/n…” I say, entering the donjon.

She’s sitting on that damn mattress, her knees in her arms.

“You know this is not your room. I- I gave you a room, remember ?”

She doesn’t answer so I sit next to her. I want to touch her so bad.

“They will not get you. Sam and I... we’re protecting you” I whisper, trying to reach her hand.

She avoids touching me again and her rejection makes my heart sink, I guess I had it coming. So I stop moving and wait for anything to happen. I won’t leave her side, that’s the only thing I know for sure.

“You don’t have to stay here” she whispers.

“I want to” I say. “Y/n, I’m so sorry…” I try but I feel tears spring in my eyes and sobs close my lungs so I stop there before it shows.

“I- I prayed…” she suddenly breaks, her voice like she was younger, her face devastated. “I spent nights, entire nights, praying, begging… I… Angels couldn’t hear me. Angels never heard me. They…” tears flood her face. “They even took that from me. I- I spent those fucking dark nights dreaming about angel wings, imagining an angel entering my cell and wrapping me with his wings. When I was cold and scared... This was my secret to hold on… How ironic this is, Dean? This is a fucking joke… My life is a joke…”

My own tears run down my cheeks and for a second I wish I had wings to wrap her in it. But I don’t, so I open my arms. She hesitates a second and finally lets herself fall on me, clinging to my shirt. When I close my arms around her, I try to make it as enveloping and reassuring as I can. It’s like I was opening my very soul to let her climb inside it to hide.

“You’re not a joke” I say but every time I come up with something to say it sounds weird. I bite my tongue when my voice wants to add “angel” mindlessly.

“I had this dream…” she sobs against my chest. “That even if the world was cold and crazy, g-good existed, like pure and warming good… That angels were watching over me.”

I could tell her that angels are mostly dicks and that this was one of my biggest disappointment too, but what would be the point ? She already knows anyway, there are no more dreams to shatter…

About an hour later she stops crying. I feel her body weight lean on me more and more. She’s exhausted. Sam checked on us two times, and had a light smile seeing her nestled against me.

“Let me take you to a real room” I whisper.

I get up taking her in my arms, without even asking her if she can walk, I just want to carry her. In the hallway I try to walk straight as I nuzzle in her hair and she keeps clinging to my shirt.

I put her down on the bed but she starts to sob again.

“I won’t leave you” I state, knowing what is frightening her so much now I’ve seen those tapes. “I’m here.”

I take my shirt off and lay beside her. The instant I’m within easy reach, she grabs my neck and hides her face against my chest.

I open my imaginary wings and welcome her inside my heart again.

Reader’s Pov

How could I have slept under those circumstances ? How could I ? Sleepless nights after sleepless nights I came to the idea that any small tremor could take rest away from me. But here I am, waking up, after all I’ve been through.

Dean is everywhere. His body big enough to wrap me like a blanket, his smell strong enough to swathe me entirely… His soul too big to stop at his contours and his essence too bright to be contained by his skin.

He’s sleeping but his arms are still warily covering me. I think about what he said about staying with me and, even if I don’t believe him, I hold on to this idea with all I am.

He woke up, get up and made coffee with that same kindness. At first the loss of his contact was almost painful but never left my side, allowing me to keep my eyes on him, to keep holding on to the strength emanating from him. Sam was already in the kitchen and was dressed like yesterday. He didn’t sleep.

“Did you sleep ?” he asked.

“Thanks to your brother” I answered while Dean gave me food.

“Can I take a shower ?” I ask out of habit.

“Yes, of course” Dean says and I think about the last time he took me to the shower.

I want him with all I am, whatever the fuck this could be exactly. But I won’t tell him…

He lets me shower by myself, and I can’t say I’m happy to be alone. I hurry up to join them because being far from Dean is like I was naked and exposed, and because I know Sam wants to talk to me…

“So get this” the tall hunter says sitting in front of me in the library. “When you rebelled and burned down the GHQ, the leader” he puts a photo of Mr. Martin in front of me. I shiver. “…wasn’t there. I think he’s the key. I think we can end all this with him.”

I nod and see Dean sit next to me.

“You won’t run all your life, angel” Dean says and I can see him biting his cheek for calling me that.

Is this what they call love ? Is it possible that I fell in love with a hunter ? One more irony in my senseless life. I look at him and try to figure it out. I think he is beautiful, but love isn’t limited to that, isn’t it ?

“Y/n ?” he says. “You okay ?”

I can’t help myself, I have to know if I love him, because it would be a disaster.

I bend to gently put my lips on his. Forgetting about Sam and the whole world. He is surprised, his breathing stopped, his eyes widen. For a brief moment I focus on the softness of his lips and how I love his smell. Then I break the kiss.

He looks at me with an intensity that makes me want to do it all over again.

“What… Why…” he tries, looking between Sam and me.

“I needed to understand something” I shrug.

“Did it help ?” he says in an exhale.

“No” I say turning to Sam.

His books and pieces of the file in his hands, he looks at us with a shocked expression. When I take a deep breath and try to focus on that mess again, Dean bend on me and puts a light kiss on my neck before standing up to leave the room.

“How do we find him ?” I ask.

“What is it between Dean and you ?” Sam cuts me.

“I don’t know… Nothing I guess. We just… I…”

Sam laughs.

The young boy, Jack, came back. The brothers consider it wasn’t dangerous anymore to be near me. He was happy to see me healed, his bright smile warming me up.

They explained me he was a Nephilim too, the son of the archangel Lucifer, and asked him to take a look at me. It was strange talking to him, because we are so different ; I don’t feel at all like a Nephilim, I feel like nothing.

Jack never let me alone that evening, and we decided to spend the night talking, as we both didn’t really need to sleep. Sam wanted to do research all night but I convinced him to sleep a little. Dean disappeared in his room…

Morning is here now and I miss him. Jack insisted in showing me a movie but I can’t really concentrate, I have flashes of those tapes and since I heard the hunters getting up, I can’t wait to join them. Right after the movie, I tell Jack I need to see the guys, and go.

Two days pass. I get used to be a guest more than a prisoner slowly, using the washer to alternate between my jeans and the pants Dean gave me, taking food from the fridge. But I still make myself inconspicuous, not daring to talk too much or to move to places they didn't show me. Jack is with me most of the time, he seems so relieved to meet someone of his "own kind" like he says. I don't feel like that. I don't feel like an angel at all like I don't really fit in mankind. The only place I seem to belong is in Dean's arms, but I don't want to bother him, so I stay away.

After my coffee, I get out of the kitchen because neither Sam or Dean is here. Jack said Sam wanted to talk to him and he just left, it is so easy to lose sight of everybody in that maze. So for the first time I wonder, hoping I'll meet Dean somewhere.

It is strange going free inside their home, and I can’t help but entering the dungeon to think a little. Everything disappeared ; the mattress and every signs of my detention was taken away…

“I’m sorry” I hear behind me.

When I turn, Dean is standing in the door frame. I feel the urge to run to him and let me wrap his arm around me but I fight it. I don’t know what to say so I just nod.

“We have a case” he adds. “It is important, people are being killed… We can’t take you with us.” I nod with a strange ache in my heart. “Men of Letters are still looking for you, you’ll be safer in the bunker.”

As I don’t answer he sighs and takes a step closer.

“You won’t be alone. I called Cas, he’ll stay with you until we come back.”

“Okay…”

“He’ll be there in a few hours, Sam is doing some shopping, do you need anything ?”

I shake my head.

“I told him not to buy you eggs” he smiles.

I try to smile back but I know it is sadder than I expected it to be.

“Y/n… I hate what I did to you” he whispers looking down.

“You offered me your protection” I say taking a step closer. “You fought for me… No one ever did that.”

He shakes his head and bites his lower lip, like he refused my words. Then he just turns around and leaves. I stand there, thinking of his kisses on my neck, of him being gone soon…

Unable to resist anymore, I start running. I almost get lost in the bunker but I keep hurrying to find him in this maze, opening every doors. I cross the kitchen two times, realizing I’m going circles. I run silently in that sweatpants of his, barefoot in this place I still don’t know at all. Then I find him. Room 11.

I run toward him ignoring the surprised look on his face, and jump on him, wrapping my legs around his waist.

I kisses me right away. His strong hands grabbing my thighs, his tongue claiming my mouth. It feels like he had waited for this as much as I did. I wrap my arms around him eagerly, stroking his hair and neck.

With his foot he pushes the door closed, walks to the bed and lets me fall on it gently. But I never let go of him and take his body with mine.

“Are you sure you want me ? After all I did to you…” he whispers in my ear while I kiss his collarbone as I can, pulling at his t-shirt.

“One more…” I moan, lifting my hips to join his crotch. “Please just one more…”

He groans and kisses me again. Lying above me, he starts rubbing himself against me and I moan again. His hands leave my side to slip under the flannel I wear.

“You need clothes…” he pants taking it off. “You need underwear because knowing you never wear it is making me crazy…”

His hand go south, tugging at the cord holding my pants. Looking deep inside my eyes, he slips his hand in it and caresses me right where I need him so much.

“Do it” he murmurs and before I can understand what he wants, my back arches with ecstasy. “Yes…” he moans catching one of my nipples between his teeth gently.

“Dean…” I whimper overwhelmed by everything he does.

He lets go of my nipple and of my pussy, his huge hands taking both my side he stars kissing every inch of my skin, even the scars I hate.

On his way down he takes my pants down and keeps kissing me. His stubble scratching the inside of my thighs. His mouth is burning and his kisses are hungry ; I can feel his teeth now and then sending Goosebumps all over my body. I want him everywhere, I want him around and inside me.

He straightens, taking my leg with him and keeps kissing my calf. He is perfect standing there, strong and beautiful. Looking at me, he takes his clothes off and I can’t hold back a moan when I see his body appear in front of me. I can see the scars and I can see the freckles, the muscles of his stomach trembling... every inch of his skin makes my mouth water.

He lets himself fall back on me and attacks my throat with wet kisses.

“That look in your eyes…” he groans. “How can you want me so bad…”

We’re both naked now for the first time, and the intimacy of it is making me dizzy. My hands roam his back like they could taste him, my legs spread wider to invite him.

“Dean ?” Sam suddenly says outside the door.

“Shit… Yeah Sammy?” Dean pants and he gets up quickly, blocking the door with his naked body right before his brother tried to open it.

His muscles contracts and his cock is hard as steel, I rub my thighs together, making Dean bite his lip.

“Don’t come in, I’m naked”

“What ? Dean we’re going on a hunt in less than two hours ! What are you doing naked ?”

“Porn” he says shrugging.

“Naked ? …You know what please don’t explain. Have you seen Y/n ? Is she okay about staying with Cas ?”

I can’t wait, seeing Dean naked, having time to look at him makes my body burn and juice tickle my ass cheek. Amused by his lie about porn I let out a obscene moan and catch one my breast in my hand while the other wonder south to finally graze at my clit. Dean’s eyes widen and I see his cock twitch.

“Shit !” he groans.

“Dawn Dean you could at least stop when I’m talking to you !” Sam yells.

“Y/n is okay…” Dean half states half moans when I let my head fall on the pillow and sweat breaks out my skin.

“Gross ! I’m out !” Sam’s voice moves away.

Dean takes three large steps toward me and when I feel the mattress sink I squeal. He seats before me on his ankles, takes my thighs and rises them up with my waist like I weighted nothing to reach his face without any hesitation.

Before I can understand what he’s doing, his tongue is on my pussy and my blood go down in my head, making it pound.

“F-fuck” I mutter.

His lips close around my clit and stars appear in my vision. He moves his arms to take my ass in his hands and I let my legs fall on his shoulders.

He eats me out like he was starving, tongue as sensual as a love kiss. I can’t make a sound, panting, I close my eyes and let him have me, let the world burn all around. The pleasure so intense and quick my legs try to close around him.

Then I can’t breathe anymore. For a second I might have died, toes curling and fist grabbing his sheets… I let out a silent plead before he puts me down.

When he is back above me I cling to him with my legs, my arms and my mouth, pushing on my feet to get friction. I taste myself on his mouth and scratch his back even if he’s not doing more than kissing me for now. I manage to rub my pussy against his cock and that coil grows again so fast.

His kisses are blurry and he misses his target half of the time, kissing my cheeks and nose. Then he lets his head fall on my neck.

“Wait…” he pants.

“What is it ?” I ask rolling my hips to reach his cock.

“No !” he flinches away. “Wait a second angel…”

“Are you okay ?” I suddenly worry.

“Yeah… I-I’m okay” he’s shaking. “Just don’t move for a second.”

Just then I understand what is happening.

“You almost came…” I smile, kissing his temple.

“Don’t make fun of me, you are too sexy” he winces.

“I’m not making fun of you, Dean. Never… This is the hottest thing ever.”

Shit I think what I feel is actually love...

“I almost came before it even started, this is not sexy…” he groans starting to kiss my neck again tenderly.

“You wanting me, being turned on so much, is the hottest thing in the world” I moan.

“No, this is…” he enters me and I can’t hold a scream.

I clutch him and let him fill me physically and spiritually. He kisses me while he thrusts inside me and I can feel him everywhere.

“More…” I beg unfocused. “Dean… More. Please…”

I don’t even know what I’m asking exactly, I just try to hold back the love words forming on my tongue.

He, on the other hand, seems focused, his face his now hidden in my neck and his thrusts are steady and firm. One of his hand is bruising my thigh, keeping it above his waist, the other is in my hair, tangling with them. I feel him so deep it's overwhelming, each time going deeper when I thought it wasn't possible.

“Y/n…” he moans. “Need you to come angel” he says with a pleading voice.

I take his head in my hands to make him look at me. He’s so perfect. His eyes close and his thrusts firm up, I can’t hold back anymore and whimper his name while my pussy flutters strongly around him. He bites my neck when his cum fills me up and nothing else matters anymore.

He barely takes time to recover and gets up a few minutes after, sweaty and breathing loudly. He kisses my lips three times in a row with a soft smile. I watch him put his boxers and jeans back on and sigh louder than I intended to.

I'm still a monster, and he's still a hunter...

“I have something for you” he says giving me a phone he took from his nightstand. “You can use it only to call Sam or me... for now.”

I take it and sit, feeling his cum run out of me. I squeeze my thighs like I was trying to keep a part of him inside and mutter a “thank you”. Then I get up to get dressed.

“Text me your size, I’ll buy you clothes and shoes on my way home. I thought about going to your place to get back your things but I think this is dangerous for now…” he kisses my forehead. “Don’t run away okay ? Don’t take risks.”

He takes me in his arms before I can pick the flannel I wore. I take a deep breath and close my eyes.

“Dean ?” I whisper, still in his arms.

“Yeah ?”

“Don’t take risk either. Please come back.”

Castiel arrived just when Sam, Jack and Dean were about to leave. I tried not to show how sad I was, how anxious. Dean kissed me on the head like he liked me a lot, but also like nothing had happened between us.

And silence fell on the bunker. A heavy, harrowing silence.

I am eating in the kitchen, I cooked but then I remembered Castiel doesn’t eat. He is kind and came with me in the kitchen so I am not alone.

I look at him wondering… He is an angel, a true angel, like the ones I prayed to when I had no hope left. But I don’t talk about it and swallow the thousand questions I have.

I spend the first night exploring the bunker, grimacing at the Men of Letters symbols, smiling at the S.W and D.W carved on the table. Castiel showed me everything but he stayed silent most of the time like he had a thousand questions too. When I have registered all the rooms, I start to read the books of the library but I already know most of them.

Is everything okay ? You didn’t call me, Dean sends me and I can’t stop smiling.

I tell him everything is fine but this is not entirely true, I’m lonely again, and bored… And I miss him.

I am watching the last tapes when he sends me another text :

The case seems more complicated than we expected… Another victim already. Don’t forget to eat and sleep. If you like ice cream, there is some in the freezer.

As I write back, the awful sounds of bullets and supplications don’t distract me. On the screen, the little girl I was is slaughtering men, watched by security cameras. She’s a killer, her eyes blue and her hands bloody. She just had enough. She just decided to rebel, in an instant, after a joke, not even after a punch or a kick, but after one more degrading joke.

Hi Dean. I love ice cream but I already ate a whole cereal box. Call me if you need help. That might surprise you but I’m actually a good hunter…

A man empty his gun toward the girl but she is too swift and the instant he realizes he has no more bullet she digs a large piece of glass in his neck.

I know, you’re probably better at hunting than me, angel. But for now your job is staying safe, and eating Sammy’s precious cereals sounds like a good plan.

The alarm is deafening now, and red lights are glowing everywhere. The thirteen years old girl takes the gun from the man’s hand and wipe it on his pants for it to be less slippery with all that blood. She puts it in her pocket, ignoring the strangling man at her feet, holding his neck.

Oops, it was Sam’s… Don’t tell him.

The little girl kills three more men before she finds bullets for her gun, then she’s unstoppable.

He told me, Sam sends me.

Traitor… I send Dean with a loving smile on my lips, currently indifferent of the violence invading the room.

“This is impressive” Cas suddenly says, making me jump. "You truly are a warrior, Y/n."

I take a look at the screen at the moment the thirteen years old girl starts to spill gas, alcohol and other chemicals she found in the lab everywhere.

"I needed to get away..." I say low.

"What happened next ?" he asks, sitting down.

"I ran. I ran and I stole from shops to get food. Then some of then found me and I killed them. It basically never stopped. Until Sam..."

"You were hiding again..." he says with that low voice.

"I had a job in that diner... I even had a coworker with whom I drank a beer some days. And I had a home. A shitty one but, well, I had a bed of my own... When Sam and Ketch broke into my home that night, I really thought I would never have that again, you know."

"Sam and Dean like you. Trust me this is going to be way better now... You could find a family."

That night I can't sleep, although I need to. I just feel so cold and my angel dreams doesn't work anymore. Out of habit I start to pray, but the irony of it just makes me want to cry. After a while, I get up and walk inside the bunker with no real goals. Trying to forget how painful it feels to know your are just a project, a creation.

Room 11.

I push the door and his smell welcomes me. I stay a few minutes in the door frame, looking at the weapons on his walls, at his headphones on the nightstand, and at the clothes on his chair. Needing his presence so bad, I take off my shirt and take one of the flannel he wore and didn't wash yet to wrap myself in it. It is the red and black one, my favorite.

I wake up curled up on his bed and decide to stay here just a little longer...

A little longer turns to all day and the night after that. When my phone lights up I don't even know how long I've been here.

Hey Y/n, are you okay ? Sam asks.

Yes, why ? I just send.

Cas says you stay in bed all the time.

My heart sinks, I hope he didn't tell them I was in Dean's room all this time.

I'm sorry

You don't have to be sorry. We're just worried about you. You've been through a lot, Sam answers quickly.

I didn't sleep the first two nights, just needed to catch up. Are you two okay ? I lie.

Cas is in the library reading and smiles kindly to me when I enter it. I have to stop being like that, staying alone all the time.

"Sorry I left you alone... I'm just not used to have people caring" I say and he nods softly.

"I'm here for you, not the other way around, Y/n"

"The bunker is so empty without them... I mean, I... No offence" I stammer.

"Don't worry, it is indeed... What could warm it up ?" Cas says closing his book.

He stays silent for a moment and I look down. I can't believe than man in front of me is a real angel.

"Music I guess, I wasn't allowed to listen to music back there... Since that day I rarely turn it down..."

"Music it is then, is there something you want to hear now ?" Cas smiles.

"You're an angel ?" I finally dare to ask.

"Yes"

"You're a real angel..."

"I am, Y/n. But I am not your father, I wasn't in Earth when you were..."

"I don't care about my father" I cut him. "I just need to see your wings. Please I..."

Dean's Pov

When Sam opens the door a loud music welcomes us, a soft guitar warms my soul instantly. I didn't know the bunker had such a sound system. Maybe there is something magic because it's like being at a concert.

As I walk down the stairs, I see something beautiful. So beautiful I just frown and stop moving : Cas and Y/n and slow dancing in the library, his large transparent wings wrapped around her body.

On her tiptoes, she cling to Cas' neck, her naked legs stretched to my oversized red flannel on her ass. The dark wings seem to keep her warm.

Her eyes are closed and she didn't see us enter, nor hear us because of the loud music coming from everywhere.

Jack opens his mouth to say something but I cut him. I need to watch a little longer... Just then I realize the lyrics might break my heart for good.

Waiting on an angel One to carry me home Hope you come to see me soon Cause I don't want to go alone I don' t want to go alone

Now angel won't you come by me Angel hear my plea Take my hand lift me up So that I can fly with thee So that I can fly with thee

And I'm waiting on an angel And I know it won' t be long To find myself a resting place In my angel's arms In my angel's arms...

I didn't know I could be jealous of Cas' wings one day but right now I just want to be what she needs. This hunt wasn't enough to make me forget how much I want her... My heart is aching, my eyes are wet...

Angel, baby, don't break my heart...

Reader's Pov

I squeeze my arms a little more when Ben Harper's words hit me hard again. I spent nights humming this song to myself when storms were raging, when my neighbors were fighting violently again, when I couldn't get rid of the smell of blood on my hands. When I was hungry and scared and oh so still little... I never shared it with anyone, so when I met a real angel I thought this could be nice to feel that serenity for real. But this is not the right angel...

"You're thinking about Dean aren't you ?" Cas murmurs in my ear and I feel tears roll on my face when I close my fists tightly.

I nod, lowering my face on his shoulder surrounded by those actual wings I waited for all my life... And once again I imagine something impossible... I imagine I'm somewhere else.

In my angel's arms

In my angel's arms...

***FEEDBACK IS EVERYTHING <3***

@tftumblin @deans-baby-momma @roonyxx @animegirlgeeky @thefaithfulwriter @parinarain

#spn #supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x reader #smut #fluff #supernatural fanfiction

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canonconspiracy · 5 years

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Reek (1&2)

Fandom: Game Of Thrones

Pairing: Theon Greyjoy x Reader

Warnings: Clues to Rape and Abuse, but nothing graphically written pertaining to either.

Written By: @rmorningstar21

Cross Published on here and Wattpad (@rmorningstar21). On Wattpad, I have this in two separate parts.

AN: The escape may be a little less than accurate, and I apologize for that. A little fluff at the end, but mostly angst.

____________

It had been weeks since Ramsay had taken Winterfell, and with Winterfell, he had taken you as a lowly servant. You had been unfortunate enough to be helping take care of Bran when the siege took place, and were grateful that Hodor had gotten out with Bran, though you were not nearly as lucky. From that point on, you had become a multiple purpose slave for Ramsay, as a maid sometimes, someone to take out his anger upon, as well as someone he would have his way with when he was feeling up to angry sex.

It had never been mutual, and typically landed you with a great deal of damage to your genitalia, leaving you a crying, bruised and broken mess. Your only relief during your days was the occasional visit in the barn you would get from Reek, where you would be ordered to fix up the wounds that Ramsay had given him. Though Ramsay could have just allowed him to bleed out, that would have been a great deal less fun for him. Reek was his entertainment, and his revenge.

Reek was once the stunning, valiant, and flirtatious Theon Greyjoy, and each time you came to his aid, you stared at the face of the broken man. Tonight, you were trying to be as gentle as possible, knowing that Ramsay had beaten Reek far worse than usual. The tears that you could see staining his beaten face merely confirmed the awful chorus of screams you had listened to prior.

Your hands shook slightly as you brought the warm cloth to his face, gently dabbing at the bloodied spot upon his cheek. Reek shrank away from your touch, causing you to grimace, before attempting once again to dab the wound. "I'm not gonna hurt ya," you whispered gently, "I love you too much. I just want to ease the pain."

The broken Greyjoy seemed to respond to your words, allowing you to dab at his wound as gently as you possible could, while his eyes turned towards you. You were able to catch a glimpse into the broken blue eyes, seeing maybe a small touch of Theon still hidden behind the immense abuse that he had sustained over time from Ramsay.

You had not lied when you said that you loved Theon, either. The two of you had grown up together under the care of Lord and Lady Stark, though neither of you were looked fondly upon by Lady Stark. Catelyn had found it a bit much that Ned had taken both of you as the Stark's wards, especially since you had been brought home at the same time that Jon Snow entered the picture.

You grew closer and closer to Theon, though you strayed further as he begun seeing the whore that he paid to bed. You did not comprehend why the young, handsome Theon Greyjoy would always bed a whore, when you thought you had made your advances rather obvious. Though he was oblivious, he had his own reasons, and you felt that you had to accept it.

After a while of dabbing at his wounds and stitching what was necessary with a threaded needle, occasionally hearing a whimper escape his lips, you watched in shock as his bloodied lips formed your name. At first, it was a silent speech, as if the slave was silently screaming for aid, though no matter how silent it was, it had brought your attention to the lips that you planned to clean last. Your gaze studied the broken man's features, showing him that he had your attention.

"Y/N," he whispered, barely above a whisper. The damaged man's voice crumbled as he spoke, though it still tugged your heart strings to hear him speak a word to you. Over the weeks of tending to his wounds, this had been the first time he had any recollection to you at all.

Feeling a shaky hand reach to cup your cheek, you felt as if you may break down in tears right there. His hand was warm, despite his condition, and you softly nuzzled into it, though you made with haste to get his wounds taken care of. Never had Ramsey allowed you enough time to care for "Reek" anyhow, and you knew the tyrant would enter simply to hinder your care for him.

"Theon," you murmured out, a whisper nearly inaudible, but just enough that he would be able to hear you. Through his pain, he managed to give you the lightest smile, as if he were fighting to do so despite his condition. "I need to get you out of here."

"The Wall," he said, struggling to form each word, as if he were battling the abused form that had become of him to speak each one. "We will be safe there, with Jon." Each word he spoke was hushed, thank the old and new gods for it, since you would not want to know what could possibly happen if Ramsay were to overhear.

"In a fortnight I will come to your chambers and we will make our escape," you whispered in return, placing a gentle kiss upon his forehead before turning to leave. "Be ready." With that, you made your way with haste back to report to the cruel man you served, making sure he was to know that you had completed your task.

What you had not heard as you walked out of Reek's cell was that small bit of the old Theon, holding a broken, hushed tone as he let the words slip from his mouth for the first time. He may have assumed that you would not hear him regardless, but he felt the need to say them as he watched your broken figure walk away from him. The two of you were in rough shape, counting the days that either of you would be able to withstand the barbarous treatment from Ramsay Bolton. He hoped to the old gods and new that you were right - that the two of you could escape the callous treatment you received.

His mouth uttered the words in a way that they fell with care from his shaken mouth, saying, "I love you, Y/N," paired with Reek's stutter. Something about his recollection of you had brought some of Theon to the forefront of his mind, attempting to stash away the Reek that Ramsay Bolton had created of him.

***

The fortnight from your prior meeting with Reek was upon you, and you had courted Lady Sansa into your escape as well. You were to retrieve Theon from his cell and meet Sansa at the wall close to the entrance of Winterfell, where the three of you would have to scale the wall and make your escape into the nearby trees. With enough running towards the North, the three of you would be able to reach the Wall, Sansa reunited with her half brother, and the two of you seeking shelter in the wall until you knew what the two of you would do from there.

You knew as well as he would have that Jon would not be fond of Theon after everything that had happened before the siege. Theon had gotten too big for his name and created falsities that were unforgivable to most, especially for the Starks. Tonight, your main objective was to get yourself, Theon, and Sansa away from the merciless tormentor that you had almost become accustomed to.

Theon, as Reek, stared at you with wide eyes initially as you walked in, reaching a hand to him. Meekly, you managed to coax the fractured man to take your hand, before you noticed that he was limping. Thinking quickly on your feet, you brought your shoulder underneath his arm, helping him to walk without placing pressure upon the leg that was injured.

With this action, you were able to walk semi quickly from the cell, to the wall to meet Sansa. No one dared utter a word as the three of you hopped down from the wall, trying to partially scale it. You could hear from a distance that your ruse was already caught on, and that Ramsay had begun sending the hounds out for the three of you. Ominous sounds in the malicious chorus of blood seeking hounds filled the chilled air as the three of you made your way out of Winterfell and into the wooded area. Sansa had the easiest time making it through in the beginning, and was in front of the two of you. You still had to support Theon as the two of you made your way out, which had made you significantly slower than the redhead, but you moved with all your might, taking Theon along the way.

The three of you made haste in the snow, though the bitter cold nipped at your skin, especially newly felt cuts that Ramsay had riddled your bodies with. It stung to the point that tears dared well in your eyes, but none of you could look back. Further and further the three of you sought towards the direction of the Wall, freedom seeming to draw closer, yet still be so far from reach.

One or two hot tears dared to fall from your e/c eyes as you made haste towards the wall, your body beginning to tire already. It had seemed like Theon was moving faster than you were, but you pushed your body to your limits to keep pace with him. Occasionally, you had stolen glances to see Theon's sad yet determined face, causing you to let your lips curl lightly into a smile.

His determination seemed to give you more strength, and it was as if the two of you were beginning to catch up with Sansa, when in actuality she had slowed her pace slightly during the escape. There was no knowing how long the three of you had been traveling by this point, but the duration was wearing on everyone. The chorus of hounds grew close to your group, as did the sight of Castle Black, your destination. The Wall was within sight, chill and exhaustion eating at the three of you, while Ramsay's hounds were right on your tail.

Theon tried pushing you off of him, saying, "You will get there without me," in a broken tone. It could have truly torn your heart to pieces, and you knew what he was thinking. He would not be accepted at Castle Black by Jon. Both of you were already more than aware of what he had done, and the pentance that he likely would need to pay just to get into Castle Black's safety, but you did not plan on leaving him behind.

You tightened your grip around him, shaking your head. "You are coming with, Theon," you said in an affirmative tone. Sansa had agreed with other words, and yet you barely even heard her. Your attention was purely focused on Theon by this point, and you were determined to get him to safety, even if it would be temporary.

"Y/N…" he attempted to counter, while he watched you shake your head once more.

"No, Theon," you said firmly. "I don't care if you don't love me as well. I refuse to let any more harm come to you again. It may take some time, but Jon will understand. If he doesn't, I will find another place to keep you safe."

Through your words, you were blind to the solidity that your walls had been broken down, tears onset in waterfalls down your cheeks. It had only been when his free arm reached to your face, using his thumb to remove the tears that he could from your cheeks that you were made aware of it. Unwittingly, you had nuzzled into his hand as he did so, causing him to allow his lips to turn upward the slightest bit.

"We need to go, now," Sansa stated, fear laced in her voice as she brought attention to the hounds drawing even more near the three of you.

All the same, your moment had been cut short, and Theon had simply nodded, the three of you making your way through the openness to Castle Black. Even with it in sight, it was a long and precarious journey from the woods to Castle Black itself, and through the way Theon and yourself were especially struggling to make it to your destination. The two of you were trailing behind Sansa, chills continually shifting down your spine as you made your way with him.

The three of you had finally made your way to the front, greeted not by anything initially despite the large drawn door opening, followed by it shutting behind the three of you. Catching your breaths, Sansa was the first to be recognized by Jon himself, and the two of you watched with panted breaths as the two of them shared a long, wonderous embrace. If you were to get yourself caught in the moment, you would have allowed a smile to stretch brightly against your skin, seeing their happy reunion, though you knew it was not time for rejoicing quite yet.

Jon's eyes glowered as they met the two of you, though the look was mostly towards Theon Greyjoy, the one whom had disgraced the Starks and denounced them with the lies that he had spread for fear. You let go of Theon to allow him to stand in his own solidarity, though you conceded into a look of sympathy, your heart tied in knots at the scene before you.

"You brought a traitor into Castle Black," Jon spat out, venom laced in each word.

Theon bowed before Jon, as if for a moment he was once again Reek, waiting for his punishment. Jon was in fact not Ramsay, though, and would not lay a hand that was undeserving upon Theon. Sansa was the one to grab her brother's arm initially, and pled her side of Theon's case before anyone else was able to utter a word.

Much to your relief, Jon's expression had seemed to change from Sansa's words, and you allowed yourself to release a breath that you were unaware you were holding. "I want to apologize for all my misgivings, Snow," Theon said submissively, his eyes meeting Jon once again.

"Bran is alive, from what I last saw of him, Jon," you said, barely above a whisper. You dared not speak at a normal tone. "He was accompanied by Hodor."

Jon smiled lightly at you, acknowledging you with a simple nod. "The two of you may stay until other arrangements can be made," Jon had declared, before ordering one of the men to set up a chamber for the two of you. Since they had not had a copious amount of room, you had assumed, that was why it was simply one chamber being altered for the two of your stay.

With his last words, Jon had disappeared in his office area with Sansa, expectedly to catch up with his lost half sister. The two of you were left alone near the entrance of Castle Black, seemingly warmer than you were in the wind, though the cold temperatures still nipped upon your skin. Your eyes had shifted to Theon, where you saw there was still a hint of shock inside of those blue eyes, and the brokenness still had yet to dissipate from the hell that Reek had provided.

After a few minutes, what you had presumed was Castle Black's Maester had appeared, hushing the both of you into his study. The old man had started with you, since you had been far more injured than Theon. It was not because of Ramsay's sheer hatred taken out upon you, though, and instead was the fact that Ramsay had never had someone tend to your wounds. Even with your knowledge of needle work and first aid, you were unable to perform the majority of it upon yourself.

"If you would be more comfortable, my lady, this could be in private," Maester Aemon as you had learned, had said to you in his almost sickening tone. You knew precisely what he was referring to, as he would need to check you out fully, and you in turn shook your head. It felt as if tears were going to once again descend down your face as he lifted your dress to see the damage that Ramsay had done to your nether regions.

The maester's lips turned to a frown as he examined your pelvic area, and did the little that he possibly could to fix you up. "I regretfully inform you that you may be barren, my Lady," he mused out as he placed your dress back down, covering you once more. You simply nodded, unable to formulate words for the news you had received.

He had moved to work upon Theon next, and was shocked to see the torment that Ramsay had truly done to him. Thankfully any stitching up and cleaning did not take longer than it took to get your chamber situated, and the two of you were led to the chambers that you would be staying in for the duration of your time at Castle Black. Once the two of you were alone, Theon managed to catch your attention, grabbing your wrist gently to make you turn towards him.

You bit your lip gently as your gaze met Theon's, taking in each bruise and scar that was exposed on his upper body. Ramsay had truly broken the man in front of you, and all you wanted to do was lay with him in your arms, comforting him. "Theon," you mused out softly, after what was longer than an uncomfortable time of silence, unable to even form the words you wished to say to him.

"Y/N," he said gently, straightening his posture out as best as he could. His eyes reflected the seriousness that he was attempting to convey, though his mentally and physically fractured features made it difficult. "I'm so sorry…"

You shook your head, trying to plaster a smile upon your own face. "We're both alive, Sansa's alive, and we're safe," you assured him gently. "We're free, after all."

Despite the plastered smile upon your face, tears did threaten to spill from your eyes. Neither of you would be able to have children, you barren, and him without the tools for the task either. Both of your bloodlines would end with the two of you, but you did not wish to dwell upon it for his sake. What you had not expected was that he brought you into his arms tightly, resting his forehead in the crook of your neck as he held you.

The warmth around you was incredible, as if you had stepped beside a fire, though you presumed he was as cold as you were prior. You wrapped your arms into him in return, holding him closely. "I want you to know, I love you, too, Y/N," he whispered gently, his voice breaking as he did so, but you felt as if your heart may have stopped the moment you heard it.

The two of you separated just enough to stare into one another's eyes. Meekly, the two of you slowly closed the gap between your lips, as if the two of you were too scared of one another's reaction to meet quickly. Your lips moved cautiously at first, treating him as a glass that could easily shatter with the wrong move. As the two of you continued, though, your feelings seemed to ooze through the kiss, passion and love reflecting on either side.

When the two of you separated for air, both panting at the lack that both of you had allowed yourselves to receive, you motioned to the bed. "Will you lie with me, then, Theon?"

For a moment, his mind did not process what you meant, and thought that you meant more, causing you to sadly chuckle. "You're likely as exhausted as I, and I wish to fall asleep in your arms," you clarified, giving him a genuine smile.

He nodded, delicately separating from you and joining you upon the cot. Theon lied on his back, beaconing you to lie your head upon his chest. You were cautious at first, hoping not to harm the man, but did as you were motioned, feeling his arms wrap around you protectively. "I have always loved you," he murmured softly to you, holding you closely.

You smiled in return, cuddling closer to him. "And I have always loved you, Theon," you whispered to him in return. It did not take long for either of you to fall into slumber, comfortably resting in the comfort of one another. Though you may never bare children for him, he would never be able to spill his seed, and the two of you would simply need to love one another in any way you would ever love. That was the most comforting thing that either of you could do.

#theon greyjoy #game of thrones #fanfiction #ramsay bolton #sansa stark #reader insert #oneshot #got

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harryandmolly · 5 years

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i could write it better than you ever felt it - FINAL

summary: fuck growing up. this is freedom, this is life, this is youth – 2007 Warped Tour style.

warnings: Language, vintage Something Corporate, oversugaring tea amidst Londoners

word count: 5.2k

A/N: this is it, fam! thanks for coming along in my time machine. I hope it’s everything you dreamed it would be. Shawn’s song is “As You Sleep” by Something Corporate, highly recommend a listen. thank you for everything you are and everything you give me. I love you guys.

Lucky 13.

The emblem of the 2007 Warped Tour has surrounded her all summer, but it feels especially present today somehow, on the last day of tour in Carson, California.

It seems a contradiction in terms, lucky 13, which Val supposes is probably the idea. She knows it’s a cheeky nod to the counterculture vibe that Warped Tour represents, but it also feels representative of her in some ways.

Val’s had a very contemplative and quiet three weeks since she gathered her things and walked out of that hotel room, leaving the scribbled note on the pillow behind her. She’s turned inward, no longer hounded by her conflict with Raf or Bea, able to focus on herself for the first time in a few months. And she’s picked out a few things that coincide with the theme of the summer.

Val is often reckless, and sometimes maternal. Val is book smart, and also street smart. Val embraces academia, but sometimes thinks she could drown herself in music and never read books again. Val is vibrant even when she is broken.

Humans are made up of contradictions, Val knows that as well as anyone. She is not suddenly realizing that she is not only one thing -- her dichotomies are not really news to her. But as she thinks about the people she loves most, she sees the way certain parts of their personalities bump up against other parts and fight for dominance, and she loves them more richly for it.

Humans are made up of contradictions and Val is embracing that from here on out. She arrived on the first day of Warped wearing a blink t-shirt with a textbook on Ming dynasty art in her trunk. All summer, she studied the ways she doesn’t fit in here in the scene anymore like she was looking for reasons to make a clean split and join her adult life across the pond. But the truth is, she failed. She looked for the ways that made her feel different from this world that she helped in her small way to build, but it’s as much a home to her as academia is and it will never truly feel foreign, no matter how many hours she spends crouched over a 9th century vase with a tiny brush. So her biggest contradiction, her inner strife over choosing academia over pop punk, it fades into her skin like her tattoo, as much a part of her as the dimple in her chin or the curls in her hair that she decided not to straighten today.

Val walks the grounds as the sun begins to fade. The last sets of the day are in progress or being set up. With earbuds in playing Boys Like Girls, she strolls between booths of merch people clinking beers and congratulating each other on a summer well done, between groups of kids comparing signed merch, between crew guys beginning to break down and pack away equipment to be pulled out next June for another go around.

She imagines who she’ll be next June.

She walks slowly on her way to Smartpunk. It seems her body is just as hesitant as her mind to attend this one last set, but she’s doing it anyway. She’s not sure why -- to prove a point to herself? To indulge in the talent one last time? To try to believe in a miracle?

She doesn’t like any of those options. She settles on curiosity and keeps her feet moving in uncharacteristically small steps.

She stands at the back, nice and far from any moshing action, by the All Time Low booth so she can sit on the edge of the table without getting grief from Vinny Vegas.

She wears a small smirk as the space around her fills in. It seems every Warped attendee is a Forefront convert now. She doesn’t blame them. But damn is it a far cry from their first sets in June.

They’re announced over the yelping cries of fans wearing out their last screams of summer. They hustle out in a group, with their tall, gawky frontman bringing up the rear as usual. He plants himself in front of the mic and swings one powerful arm above his head with a wild grin to wave as his adoring fans.

And it begins.

They put on a hell of a show. It’s not a given -- just because you’re good in the studio doesn’t mean you have the chemistry or energy to do well live. There are special bands that make a live concert a nearly religious experience -- her friends in Paramore and All Time Low among them. Forefront has gotten their sea legs this summer and won’t easily lose them now.

She takes the time to notice each member -- passionate, goofy Francis on rhythm guitar, hard-hitting, soft-spoken Seth on the drums, raucous pretty boy bassist Bobby. And then Shawn, switching between his keyboard and guitar effortlessly like he was born with a damn instrument in his hand, charisma leaking out of him all over the stage, making everyone in a fifteen mile radius certain that he’s born to do this.

She closes her eyes through the end of “Open End” and waits for “Swim” to start. When Shawn switches back to the keys at this point in the set, he usually engages in some chit chat with the boys or yammers on to the fans about how much they inspire him or whatever. But he’s quiet and the air around the stage is tense because everyone knows something’s up.

Val opens her eyes. He’s where she expected him to be, propped at the edge of his bench with his fingers resting over the keys, looking down at them frozen.

“We’re gonna play you a new one today.”

Val’s stomach falls out and flops into the dirt at her feet. She’s glad she’s sitting on the table because she can’t feel her legs. She overwhelmed by certainty that whatever’s about to happen, it’s going to be personal. And it’s going to hurt like hell.

Shawn is quiet for a few more electrically charged moments before he closes his eyes, rolls his shoulders forward and leans into the mic, singing before the instruments join him.

“Close your eyes and I will be swimming, lullabies fill your room, and I will be singing, singing only to you. Don’t forget I’ll hold your head, watch the night sky fading red.”

His fingers work furiously against the keys. The piano line is so intricate and shows off his talent for the instrument in a way she’s never seen. He keeps his eyes down at his hands as they dance, distracting him enough from the content of the lyrics so he can get through them without breaking down like he did when he wrote it.

“But as you sleep, and no one is listening, I will lift you off your feet, I'll keep you from sinking. Don't you wake up yet, cause soon I'll be leaving you. Soon I'll be leaving you, but you won't be leaving me.”

Val closes her eyes again and lets herself fall back into their last night, into their frantic lovemaking punctuated by irresponsible, unkeepable promises. She thinks about the weight of his legs between hers as she drifted off with him in the last full night sleep she got on tour. She remembers the way she let her hand rest on his side of the bed to try to tell when he left by how cool to the touch it felt.

“In the car, the radio leaves me searching for your star, a constellation of frustration driving home, singing my thoughts back to me, and watching heartache on TV.”

It feels so good to get this out, Shawn thinks as he hits each note just the way he wants it. This song came spilling out after their last night together in a way that felt too easy. After all that he put her through, he doesn’t deserve to have his art come easy. But art is never fair.

By the second chorus, Val knows the words. It’s hard not to zero in when you know they’re about you. She notes the way the crowd reacts, arms in the air waving at him like he’s Jimi Hendrix, cheering along, eating up everything he gives them.

Good, she thinks, he deserves it.

The lead into the bridge is still piano heavy, but his fingers know the strokes of the keys as well as his heart does, so he gets to sit up and look around, grinning as their fans cheer, watching the sky explode vibrant summer watercolors over the trees on the horizon. A thick, soothing breeze passes through.

He looks back through to where he saw her a few songs ago. He lets his gaze stay there long enough that she knows now that she’s been spotted. He licks his lips and leans into the mic, but keeps his eyes up at her, perched on the ATL merch table like she owns it.

He repeats the lyrics even though each word feels like tearing at scabs that won’t be healing for a while. He pours it all in, everything he has left, every piece of I’m sorry, every hint of thank you, every whisper of I love you, it soars out over the heads of the fans who love the words but don’t know the boy that wrote them.

They’re for her.

As the final note fades out under sweeping cries of gratitude from the scene kids that came to celebrate their home and community, Val stands, brushes the dust from her skinny jeans and secures her earbuds back in place. With a final nodding smile to Vinny, she turns from the stage and walks off in gigantic, loping steps to read about John Singer Sergeant and listen to Dookie on repeat.

+++++++

December 18th, 2017

Shawn doesn’t often fit most musician stereotypes -- he doesn’t drink too heavily, he doesn’t do any drug harder than weed, he’s kind of a serial monogamist.

But he does love a moody walk along a body of water.

With a pair of good headphones, a carefully curated playlist and a path along the water, Shawn can figure out anything. When he gets stuck on a song, he goes to the water. When he’s in a weird spot with someone he’s dating, he goes to the water. He doesn’t like to get too spiritual about it, but it does feel somehow clarifying.

So one afternoon in London when the sun is out and the Londoners are out with it, Shawn decides to join them. He’s there on business promoting the latest Forefront album with a Live Lounge performance on BBC Radio 1 with Nick Grimshaw. He’s jetlagged and a little turned around by the Underground system like he usually is when in London but he’s otherwise feeling just fine. He just needs a walk by the water today. He tries not to look too closely at why.

He bundles up in the Barbour jacket his mum got him last Christmas and sets off down the stairs into the opulent Savoy hotel lobby decked out with a Christmas tree in every corner and fresh garland wrapped around every non-moving object in sight. He smiles at it -- nobody does Christmas like the Brits. He’s looking forward to going home in a few days to see his mum and the rest of his family and decompress for a few weeks before heading back over to the UK to write and record their next album.

He gets reflective like this -- the combination of the water and the music offer him perspective he can’t usually reach otherwise. He tucks his hands in his pockets and sets off through the garden that opens up into the Victoria Embankment Gardens, usually lush and green in the spring and summer, full of life and people. He likes it like this, though, cold and quiet and almost like a little secret.

2017 has been good to him. Forefront played seven new countries this year on their world tour in celebration of their sixth studio album. He’s gotten a little better over the years about being more present in those moments rather than looking forward anxiously to the next album and the expectations that surround it. That attitude really spoiled the last few records, but the new friends he’s made in the industry have helped guide him through that. He’s even becoming friends with the Irish guy from One Direction now, though they had very different paths to the music industry. He seems like a cool guy.

Personally, 2017 wasn’t really a banner year. He broke up with Jess in April after almost a full year. He’s had a few of those lately -- relationships that start hot and don’t make it past a year mark. He should take a closer look at that and figure out why he can’t seem to stay in a relationship for longer than 11 months, but he’s too tired to think about it now. It’s been a long fuckin’ year.

It’s been a long ten years, actually, since Joy Ride. He thinks back to the show they played at home in Toronto over the summer to celebrate the big anniversary. They played the whole album start to finish, something they’ve never gotten to do. Being immersed in it like that brings back a lot of memories of that summer when everything really kicked off. Not all those memories are ones Shawn likes to think about.

He doesn’t think about Valentina much. It’s by design. He doesn’t even play “As You Sleep” as often as it’s requested. It just… doesn’t feel healthy for him. He’ll pull it out every once in a while when curiosity gets the best of him, when it’s been long enough that he forgets how sharply he still feels every word of that song. He usually regrets it.

He lets himself wonder about her sometimes, like today when he’s knee deep in nostalgia anyway. He still sees Raf and the other Streets guys. They went on a hiatus for a while around 2013 but are back again recording a new record somewhere in Malibu, from what Shawn’s heard. When he sees them, he doesn’t ask about her. He doesn’t want her knowing he’s asking. And he thinks sometimes he doesn’t want to know what she’s really up to, he’d rather imagine.

He falls into his favorite daydream. He likes to think she stayed in the UK (he always felt like that was the place for her to end up). Maybe she got a job in conservation at Oxford or Cambridge or some other hoity-toity university. Maybe she met a nice, polite, skinny, bookish English guy who looks at her like a miracle every time she speaks to him. Maybe they had a small wedding at his local church and his family loves her because she’s colorful and articulate. Maybe they have dogs -- sheepdogs or setters or something, good country dogs. And maybe they’ve had a little girl.

That’s where he usually shuts the daydream down. For obvious reasons.

But when he doesn’t, he thinks about her and who she might be. He thinks about thick, lush curls flopped over a tiny forehead. He thinks about pouty little lips and a chin dimple that matches her mother’s. He thinks about little feet that kick hard because she’d have to be strong, of course.

Now that he’s letting himself think about it, he thinks maybe she’d look kinda like the kid that’s staring at him, reaching out from her pram that’s parked next to the bench he’s strolling past. He smiles at her and she beams back with a grin that has only two teeth. It makes Shawn laugh.

He glances over at her lucky mum or dad.

And it’s almost like he expected it, like it had to be her. I mean, this kid really couldn’t have been anyone but Val’s. She’s just… so Val.

So when Shawn looks her over, from her sweeping dark curls and her leather trousers and her ankle boots, he’s barely even surprised to see her. He just tips his head back and chuckles at the universe.

“Hey mister,” she calls, and her voice sets his skin rough with goosebumps, “Can I have your autograph?”

Shawn lets go of where he’s holding on to the wrought iron fence above the banks of the Thames and walks over, his chelsea boots scratching at the frosty stone.

She doesn’t stand to greet him. She’s got a similar look on her face, bemused acknowledgement of fate and its tricks, like she was thinking about him too and they both somehow willed this to happen. Her long slender legs are crossed. She has one black leather-gloved hand in the pram in the grasp of her little girl who’s chewing on her finger and no longer paying Shawn any attention.

“Hey, Vally,” he sighs. He doesn’t mean to call her that, it just happens. She doesn’t visibly react beyond a slightly deeper dimple in her cheek, so he figures he scraped by with that one.

“Were you on your way somewhere?” she asks, glancing back as if she realized she might be taking him away from something.

He shakes his head. “No, I just-- I’m staying at the Savoy and I like these gardens. I just wanted a walk.” He has enough presence of mind to pause his music. He doesn’t bother to mention it’s an old Streets song. That she wrote.

“We like it out here. We live over by the Farringdon stop but we take the train out here because we like the waterfowl.”

Val looks down at the pram as she speaks. Shawn takes that as an invitation to acknowledge her more formally.

“Who’s this?” he asks breathlessly.

“This is Alice,” Val replies with as much pride as he’s ever heard from any mother, “Alice Fernanda Moreno, she’s nine months old and very hefty for her age because we run a body positive household and she loves mashed carrot and swede.”

Shawn lifts a hand and waves in that open-close way he does like he’s a big toddler himself. Alice kicks hard and squeals at him.

“She’s… so beautiful,” he marvels. Val’s smug smile tells him she agrees. Shawn doesn’t share his next thought because it feels like a line and he doesn’t want to go there.

Because she looks exactly like you.

“I picked out a real pretty one,” she jokes, tightening the wrap of the thick wool blankets around Alice as she yawns.

Shawn continues staring at her openly, trying to pick out features that could belong to any potential father, but as far as he can tell, Alice is simply a clone of Val. It’s Val’s throat clearing that brings him back.

“Sit, Mendes,” she suggests, patting the warped wooden bench. Shawn lowers himself on the other side of the pram as Val rocks it back and forth with her foot.

“She’s been fussy today, but it’s naptime. She has to give in eventually,” Val mutters like she’s reasoning with herself. Shawn grins.

“You have a daughter.”

Val doesn’t look up from the pram as she rocks it. She just nods and snuggles into her prim peacoat.

“I have a daughter.”

Shawn can’t bring himself to ask. She’s wearing gloves so he can’t see if she’s wearing a ring. He stays quiet and studies her instead.

She looks largely the same, barely even older than she did at 22. Her sense of style is maybe the only thing he can see that’s changed in the ten years since he’s seen her last. There’s something comforting in that.

He wonders if he seems different. He works out more now, eats right. He’s definitely put on a whole lot of muscle since he was scrounging for burger scraps on Warped. He’s gotten a few more tattoos she can’t see. He also has an actual stylist now, which is sometimes weird, but he’s elevated the black skinnies, Vans and band tees to black skinnies, $800 boots and silk button-ups. So there’s that.

He’s still got that lip ring though.

But… he wonders if he seems different. If he carries himself differently. If he comes off more confident, more calm, less wide-eyed and wondering.

Because she seems the same. She’s always glowed from the inside out like this. Maybe the glow feels a little stronger now. Or maybe it’s just because she glows through herself and her baby girl all at once. Shawn sits back and watches them -- he could bathe in it all day.

“You know it’s been ten years?” she breathes.

Shawn nods slowly. “I know. Kinda feels like 40.”

She laughs and a piece of him astral projects back to nights tangled up in her bunk kissing her neck and trying to keep her quiet so her brother won’t come mock them from outside the bunk curtain.

“It does,” she muses, “But sometimes it feels like fifteen minutes ago, too.”

Shawn tips his head back and sniffs, looking up through a tall pine as its needles shiver.

“Has your decade been good to you?” she murmurs. He lifts his head back up. She’s staring down at the baby.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s been great. We’ve toured a lot, done a few more albums. The guys and I, I mean, you know us, we’d push each other in front of a bus most days, but we’re brothers and maybe obsessed with each other, too. We’re on a great ride.”

Val lifts her eyes to his briefly, all too knowingly, and lowers them back to the pram. “That’s good.”

Shawn shakes his head. “That’s not even at all what you meant, was it?”

“Nope.”

Shawn goes quiet, contemplative. Val waits him out until he’s ready.

“It’s harder than I thought it would be,” he chokes finally, “Everything about it. Writing after Joy Ride, it was… it got bad. I mean, I was ok, like fundamentally, but I didn’t feel good. We had so many eyes on us. We had no idea what to do, just like no one else does. Some tours were great, some were bad. And the whole deal makes everything else harder. It’s hard on my family, my friends. I… I haven’t been in an actual good relationship in… five years, at least. This year was better. We’ve gotten our feet back under us. I let it all out in the last album, and that helped.”

“I know, I heard it.”

Shawn looks up from Val’s hands in the pram. For the first time all morning, he’s really, truly shocked to the bone.

“You did?”

Val doesn’t answer him exactly, just mutters something about needing to get the baby inside and announces they’ll head down the lane for a cup of tea. She leads them to a little corner coffee shop made for hipsters, not for women with very expensive prams, but Val doesn’t seem to care and parks in the corner by the fire. She layers down, stripping off her scarf and coat to a black turtleneck. Her cheeks go warm as she settles in and orders for them.

Shawn keeps his mouth shut and tries not to do the mental math of how many of the songs he’s released in the last ten years have been written about her, and exactly how many of them she might have noticed are definitely, totally written about her.

She folds her manicured hands together and looks up at him. His brain mercifully shuts off.

“It took a while after that summer for me to get there, but about three years later, I was around Oxford with some friends and I saw your latest album, on vinyl no less, in some indie record store. I suddenly got this feeling that I had to stop my whole life for a minute and go in and buy it. I bought it and the one that came before it, I said goodbye to my friends and I shut myself up in my flat for a couple days with a bottle of whiskey and just… let it happen.”

Shawn winces. “Wish you’d have just skipped over Making Midnight.”

Val smirks. “I wish I had, too.”

Shawn scoffs and leans back in his chair, mock offended. Val giggles and dumps an ungodly amount of sugar in her Earl Grey.

“I was glad to just hear your voice again, actually. I’d done a good job of avoiding it. Too good, maybe, because it was a real shock to the system when I heard it again.”

Shawn knows how that feels. He went through a Val cleanse too, a much shorter one because he doesn’t have her willpower. And then he heard a song she wrote with Alex Gaskarth for All Time Low’s Dirty Work and he let her back in.

“From then, I just bought your records when they came out. I really loved this last one. It really… I dunno, it just really felt like you, I guess.”

Shawn keeps his head down as he stares at his tea. He hears Alice coo. He looks up to see Val lifting her out of her pram to bounce her in her lap, baby in one arm, cup of tea in the other.

“God, it’s so fuckin’ good to see you,” he croaks, shaking his head a little, “Especially…”

He trails off, unwilling to finish. He ducks his head again.

“Especially with a kid I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to have?” Val guesses.

Shawn glances up and nods.

“Do you want to hear about this?” Val murmurs, ignoring Alice as she yanks at some silky curls.

Shawn chews on his lower lip. “Yeah, I think I do.”

It’s Val’s turn to look down. She stirs the mountain of slowly dissolving sugar at the bottom of her mug and sighs.

“She’s just mine. Last year I started to get a little anxious about my biological clock, especially given the last time I got pregnant. I saw a fertility specialist and we discussed my history and she agreed if I want to have children, it’s probably better to start now. So I went in for IVF. On the second cycle, I got pregnant with Alice. The pregnancy was complicated, but my doctor was a saint and did everything absolutely right. The birth went perfectly. So now it’s me and Alice against the world.”

Shawn slides his tongue against his lower lip, taps his foot impatiently against the leg of his chair. “Just you two?”

“Just us two,” Val replies easily, “There were a couple guys in and out before her, but I haven’t gone out with anyone since I got pregnant. I didn’t feel the need. I just wanted to focus on her. I’m glad I did.”

They’re quiet for a few minutes, reflective. Then Val stands and looks down at him.

“Would you mind holding her for a minute? I need to use the loo.”

Shawn bites his lip and nods, standing to complete the transfer. Alice is asleep in her mother’s arms, but, as Val explains with a chuckle, “she’s a snuggle whore -- she’ll go with anybody for a little cuddle.”

Shawn sits. Alice curls up against his chest and pops her tiny lips in her sleep. She radiates warmth from her little swaddled bundle. As he stares down at her, Shawn fundamentally understands why Val hasn’t needed anyone else in her life since Alice arrived. He thinks if Val let him, he’d never put her down.

Alice stretches a tiny arm out in her sleep and punches Shawn in the chest. He snickers, jostling his little bundle, but it doesn’t wake her. He starts to get comfortable, sliding down in the chair a bit so he can rock her, but Val’s hand on his shoulder startles him.

“It’s ok,” she says, “Keep her, if she’s not fussing. I’d rather she stay asleep.”

Shawn nods eagerly and strokes Alice’s back with his long, rough fingers. Val sits across the table with her elbows propped up like she’s physically restraining herself to keep from snatching her child out of his arms. It makes Shawn grin.

“You ok over there?”

Val blushes, caught. “It’s usually just the two of us. I don’t ever have to share her. I’m not used to jonesing.”

“I’ll give her back if you want,” Shawn mumbles reluctantly. Val giggles.

“No, it’s ok. She looks happy.”

Shawn hums. She does look happy.

“So are you working?” he asks quietly, not wanting to wake Alice.

Val nods. “We are, we work at the V&A in the medieval department. We just started back about a month ago after my maternity leave. The museum’s been very generous. They let me walk around with her strapped to my chest all day. She helps consult on various matters, charms my coworkers into letting me leave bottles of breastmilk in every fridge in the museum. I shifted from conservation to curation a few years ago, which is a steadier, more lucrative track. I think it’ll be better for us.”

Us. We’re working at the V&A. We started back at the museum. Shawn’s enamored. He goes pink and brushes through the curls on the back of Alice’s neck.

“Sounds like you’ve got a great partner here,” he quips.

Val is quiet for a minute. “We’re very happy together. But we get a little lonely sometimes. Like when it’s cold and mummy really doesn’t want to get out of bed but Alice is screaming bloody murder. Those are the only moments when this isn’t the greatest thing in the whole world.”

Shawn looks up. Val is watching him carefully. Before he can speak, she swallows and lowers her gaze.

“But we get along, you know. We’re ok.”

“Yeah,” Shawn says, “I know you are.”

They chat. They talk about Raf and his wife Rachel and their little ones -- Val and Alice will be heading across the pond to spend Christmas with them and her parents. They talk about Bea and how she’s spent five years with the same guy up in Edinburgh and she seems actually happy. They talk about their near miss at Alex’s wedding last April -- she came for the ceremony but had to skip out of the reception, Shawn the opposite. They chat through several more cups of tea, an array of pastries, and another nap cycle until it’s dark and quiet outside. Val stares mournfully out the window as she puts on her jacket with Alice back in her pram, gurgling quietly.

Shawn is silent, brow furrowed. He pays the tab with a ghost of a smile and thinks about walking back to his hotel to sit in his room with the TV to try to drown out this day. It’s… unappealing to say the least.

They walk to the door. Shawn holds it open for Val and Alice and considers that they probably look to anyone else like a young family that spent the day together and are headed home to a warm dinner and a cozy night in.

Val’s heart pounds in her ears faster than their boots’ steps on the crunchy ground. She wants to swallow the words, but she doesn’t think she can. Not with him.

“Would you like to walk us home?” she breathes.

Shawn’s smile is extraordinary. He looks up from Alice’s curious brown eyes.

“Yes, please.”

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Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @stillinskislydia @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @alone-in-madness @alone-in-madness @singanddreamanyway@accioalena @randi-eve @shawnitsmutual @embracehappy @itrocksmysocks @yslsaint @peacedolantwins2 @kitykatnumber

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn mendes fic #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes fluff #punk!shawn #warped tour shawn #dad!shawn

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katehuntington · 5 years

Text

How You & I Will Be - part four

Fandom: Supernatural Timeframe: mid-season 2 Main characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam & Reader (friends) Series summary: When a hellhound case in the mountains goes sideways, Dean and Y/N find themselves trapped in a small cabin, miles from civilization. A serious injury forces the two hunters to come to terms with their true feelings for each other. Rescue is on its way, but will it be in time? Warnings part four: angst, pining, fluff, swearing, alcohol, description of blood and injury, possible character death, saying goodbye, all the tears. Word Count: 3926 words Author’s note: Part 4 of a 5 part mini-series. @idreamofhazel and @littlegreenplasticsoldier, thank you so much for being awesome betas! Hold on to something, because it’s gonna get dark and sad. Tissues are mandatory.

Find the ‘How You & I Will Be’ masterlist here!

Unlike the raging blizzard that is whirling around the cabin outside, inside it’s completely quiet. The flames in the fireplace have died down to a few glowing chunks of charcoal, barely breathing. Dean settled against the wall hours ago and hasn’t moved since; Y/N fell asleep against his chest this afternoon and has been out of it for most of the time. And so he watches the lighting of the scenery change outside as sun goes down and the night comes in, washing dark clouds through the valley. It has been three days since the hellhounds attacked her. Not allowing himself to sleep has him exhausted, but Dean refuses to let his guard down. He has to stay on watch, he has to keep going. Maybe if he keeps fighting, she’ll be able to hold on, too.

His arm is wrapped around her, his cheek on her hair. The leftover moonshine keeps him company, comforting him whenever he lets the liquor burn his throat. He was able to contact Sam through the satellite phone again. His smart little brother found a ritual to send the hounds back to the doghouse, but getting his hands on the exotic ingredients has been a challenge. Several hunters are pitching in; Bobby, Ellen and Jo are all working around the clock. But when he glances down at the woman they are all desperately trying to save, he hopes it will be enough. He lets out a worried and shuddering sigh after registering the paleness of her skin and the shallowness of her breath.

In his entire life he prayed once or twice, maybe. When he was little he would ask God to bring his mom back, but he grew up quick enough to understand that he could pray all he wanted, his mother was never coming home. Today he prayed, though. He begged the man upstairs not to take her, to give her a chance.

But her condition is getting worse. The infection has caused blood poisoning, by the looks of it. Her fever spiked even higher few hours ago, causing restless dreams and hallucinations. Sometimes she is so far off that she mistakes him for her father. She cries for him, for her mom, too. She told him she was sorry about a hundred times, Dean can’t figure out what she meant. But damn, Y/N is putting up one hell of a fight.

‘I’m not gonna die, I’m not gonna die, I’m not gonna die!’

She keeps repeating it as if she’s trying to scare the reaper away. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise him if one is already lurking in the corner of the room, like a vulture waiting for the wounded animal to die. The bastard can wait all he wants, Dean can still feel her chest rise and fall, he can feel her shiver. He can feel the intense heat coming from her clammy skin. She’s alive, and again Dean closes his eyes and rests the back of his head against the wood, letting another weary breath slip from his lips.

God, please…. Please, let her win this fight. I’m begging you here, okay? I’m on my knees, I’ll do everything you ask. Please, just this one time…

As if it’s a sign from above, the satellite phone rings. Startled, Dean opens his eyes and stares at the piece of equipment laying a few feet away from him. Y/N stirs for a moment, awakened by the beeping sound, but he is able to slip his arm from behind her back and gets up without disturbing her any further. In three big strides he’s next to the phone, picks it up and presses the green button. “Sam?” “Dean, hey.” Relieved, the oldest Winchester places one hand on his hip and stares through the window into the dark night. It’s always good to hear his brother’s voice, especially in desperate times like these. “Tell me you’ve got something.” His words come out with a tremble in his voice he didn’t mean to be audible. But his brother heard it nonetheless. “I do. We got all the ingredients and Bobby is lifting the curse as we speak.”

During the following silence, Dean can hear the soft chanting of his surrogate father in the background. A sigh of relief escapes his lips and he silently thanks the man upstairs. But then Sam’s tone dawns on him. The words weren’t cheery or excited, not relieved like you would expect from the bringer of good news. Before Dean can ask about the downside, his brother continues. “How is she doing?” he wonders. “Did she get worse?” Dean turns around to observe Y/N’s unconscious figure leaning against the wall. He swallows thickly when he notices her grey skin tone, the dark shadows under her eyes, her lips pale and dry. He has seen it before, on the faces of hunters and victims whenever the monsters got to them before the Winchesters could. It’s as if the skull illuminates through the skin, eyes sunken in their sockets slightly more. The face of death. Dean turns away, having trouble to accept what is right under his nose. “She’s on the verge, Sammy,” he speaks softly, trying to stay strong.

“There’s a rescue team on standby in the valley, but they won’t be able to make a move until dawn, and that is if the storm passes,” the youngest Winchester breaks to him, as gently as possible. “It might take until tomorrow evening before we can reach you.” Dean gulps, witnessing the bad weather outside. The realisation that Mother Nature might be a major deal-breaker sinks in and Sam can hear a trace of panic when his brother objects. “No.” Dean shakes his head stubbornly. “No, no, no. She needs help right now. What about a chopper?” “They don’t fly during blizzards like these.” “A snowmobile then,” he thinks out loud, pacing back and forth. “How long will it take if you hike up this fucking piece of rock?!” “Even if we manage to reach you guys on foot, she will never survive the way back in her condition. It’s fifteen degrees outside, winds blowing over 70 miles per hour…” “Well dammit, Sam! There must be something!”

Dean turns around, pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes squeezed shut. He glances over at her for a second, making sure she is still asleep, but Y/N has barely moved since he picked up the phone. He knows his little brother heard the desperation in his voice. He knows how this looks, but he can’t accept it. He can’t allow it. “Bobby contacted a witch he owes, maybe she’ll be able to tame the weather. But it’s gonna take a couple of hours at least.…” “She doesn’t have that much time, Sam. I-I don’t think she’s.…” The line cracks a little when silence is the only thing that remains between the brothers. Dean presses his trembling lips together as he fight the tears, but he’s unable to continue. He doesn’t need to finish his sentence for Sam to get where he’s going. It takes a while before either of them speaks.

“Dean, listen to me...” Sam says eventually, his voice broken too, “you’ve got to tell her.” The older brother stares outside the window, watching the wind taunt the snow, shooting it across the night sky like razors. The fact that Sam doesn’t tell him that it’s going to be just fine, but instead chooses to offer advice on how to handle the final hours, states the obvious. “No. Maybe if I don’t, she’ll be able to keep throwing punches,” he refuses, the words coming out shaky. “That’s not what I’m talking about,” Sam rephrases. “You need to tell her what we talked about in the car. You have to tell her that you’re in love with her.”

Again, silence as Dean bites his lip, moving the speaker away from his mouth slightly to make sure Sam doesn’t pick up on his quivering breath. “If you don’t, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life,” he pressures. “She deserves to know the truth.” “She’s dying, Sam. I don’t think she wants to listen to some dude pouring his heart out. This isn’t about me,” Dean responds somewhat agitated. “You are not just ‘some dude’ to her, Dean! You have no idea, do you?” He can hear his younger brother sigh on the other side before he continues. “You’re not the only one I had long night conversations with. It’s a two way street, man.”

Struck by realization, Dean stares into the storm, eyes wide, mouth slightly opened. Is Sam telling him that this profound feeling is mutual? Sure, a part of him hoped it was. But living a hunter’s life didn’t allow him to feel that way. Sometimes he picked up on something, but he always thought of it as harmless flirting. Besides, she knows him. She knows him better than any girl he has ever come across. She knows about his inability to cope with sorrow and loss. She saw him wreck the trunk of his own car with a crowbar after his father’s death. She knows about the drinking, the urge to hit the liquor cabinet every time life gets rough. She knows about the many, many women, a girl in every town they passed through. He put her through silent-treatment, he raged at her when she confronted him with his habit to stuff up all his pain, grief and anger. How could she possibly love him back? “She’s in love with me?” he whispers in disbelief. “Yeah, head over heels,” Sam acknowledges. “She couldn’t stop talking about it.” Stunned, Dean runs his hand down his face, a mix of emotions knocking him over. If only he had known, maybe they could have made it work. Maybe, just maybe, they could have had something beautiful. “It would mean the world to her, Dean. Tell her.” He nods, even though Sam can’t see it. “Alright, I will.” A trace of a small smile forms on the corners of his mouth. He never knew he could feel so conflicted. Intense joy opposite an even greater grief. He only just became aware of her feelings for him and he’ll barely have time to act upon it. “I’m so sorry, Dean,” Sam continues, sadder than a moment ago. “I really hoped you wouldn’t have to live through this.” Jessica Moore, the love of Sam’s life. She pops into Dean’s mind instantly. He met her once, when he broke into their home in the middle of the night to he pick up his little brother up and search for their father. The way Sam looked at her was almost foreign to him, Dean didn’t understand any of it. He sure does now. He also understands Sam’s desperate attempt to save her when Jess was burning on the ceiling. If anyone can relate to how defeated, hopeless and scared Dean feels right now, it’s his brother. “I know,” he sighs, appreciating his sympathy.

He turns away from the icy window to face her again. She stirs, restless by a fever-dream, but then she wakes up. Confused eyes scan the room for her companion. When they focus on him standing by the window, she settles. Not for long, though, because his facial aspects are almost out of character. Tears are shimmering on his bottom eyelashes, eyes filled with desperation. The always optimistic Dean Winchester, who counters every problem with either a joke or another way out, is looking at her as if the world is about to come crashing down. He still has the satellite phone pressed against his ear and she realizes it’s probably Sam on the other side. It’s then when it clicks in her mind and she understands what’s going on. “Bad news, huh?” she presumes, voice raspy.

Dean opens his mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. The single tear that was still clinging to his eyelid comes down his cheek. It’s impossible for him to lie to her as he intended. She would see right through the deceit anyway, having the ability to read him like a book. Dean bites his tongue to keep back the false promises, his jaw flexing in the process. Not trusting his voice, he nods as he swallows apprehensively. Without words he is able to explain exactly what is happening. He would have given anything to tell her otherwise.

Y/N breaks her gaze away from him, her mouth slightly opened as it starts to sink in what this means: no one is coming to save her. Her breath hitches in her throat when she tries to breathe in deeply and she identifies it as panic immediately. ‘Calm down, slow breaths, you got this’, she tells herself. In all fairness, she saw it coming. Even when Dean remained hopeful, she felt the life slipping through her fingers. Her body has been whispering it in her ear, so has her common sense. “Is that Sam?” she ask softly. Again Dean nods and she reaches out for the phone. He hands it to his partner, after which he turns away and runs his hand down his face, wiping away the tears.

“Sammy, you there?” Immediately, her voice calling out for his brother, calling him Sammy, causes Dean to tear up again. No one calls Sam that, the youngest Winchester would stubbornly correct those who dare to use that nickname. Except for Dean, except for her. That’s how much she’s like family to the brothers. “Hey Y/N, it’s good to hear your voice,” Sam replies, having trouble keeping a steady tone. “Hanging in there?” “You know me; not going down without a fight,” she forces a smile, wearing her mask well. Dean has walked away slowly, his arms crossed in front of his chest. When he reaches the fireplace he leans against the warm stone shaft that runs up to the roof. He waits, listening, while trying to figure out how to deal the inevitable. “...So there’s no way you can reach us in time?” she asks, after listening to Sam’s explanation. “Y/N, I-I’m so sorry.…” Sam’s voice breaks. She nods, her eyes watering. “It’s okay, Sam. You did everything you could.” The one who is about to die, comforting the one who will live. It’s heartbreaking at least and Sam is touched by her attempt. “Who’s gonna watch Breaking Bad with me, huh?” Sam smiles, taking a little trip down Memory Lane in order to lighten the mood. “The big question is who’s gonna be my partner in crime in Vegas upstairs. I can’t count cards without my personal Einstein,” she chuckles through the sadness. It remains quiet for a few long seconds as both search for things to say. It’s the youngest Winchester who speaks first. His message is as sincere as they come. “I’m gonna miss you so, so much.”

Sam doesn’t mean to, but his words hit so hard, that she crumbles. The curtain falls and so do the tears. Her eyes seek Dean, who is watching her having one last conversation with her best friend. He knows that the dam is about to break, so he approaches her slowly and crouches down to level with the girl he cares for so much. Even though he is having a hard time himself, he puts a hand on her shoulder and squeezes it lightly, letting her know he’s right there. “I’ll miss you too,” she responds, her voice quavering. “Do me a favor, will ya? Take care of your brother for me?” Dean looks up and away, anything but in her eyes, because he knows it will destroy him. The knot in his stomach tightens and fresh tears roll down his face anyway. Breathing gets a little tougher, a constraint in his chest builds up. God, this hurts. “I will. You have my word,” Sam promises, unable to tie his emotions down. “Bye, Sammy.” “See you again, Y/N.”

Despite the tears glistening in her eyes, she smiles. Y/N cherishes the moment, then lets the air flow from your mouth and presses the red button. Dean takes the phone from her hand and lays it on the floor next to him, then faces the woman who has his heart. Numb and drained she stares at the fireplace that is barely spreading light anymore. The final words she just exchanged with Sam forces her to face the facts. God, she’s scared. She doesn’t want to die, not after everything that she missed out on saying. “I fucked up, Dean,” she whimpers. “Hey, now why would you say that?” he wonders, trying to read her. “I should’ve done things differently. I- I should’ve lived more, should’ve had more fun, worked less, maybe for once listened to that ticker in my chest,” she pauses, catching her breath when panic causes her to ramble. “It’s just that - that now my time is up, it becomes so clear how bad I fucked up. I just, I wish I….”

The words flow out together with soft sobs until she can’t continue anymore, so he hushes her softly. Where in the past Dean would have hit the breaks the moment he felt the urge to show affection past the borders of a platonic relationship, he does the exact opposite this time. Dean takes her hand in his, letting their fingers entwine with each other. Somewhat surprised Y/N casts her gaze down at their hands, then up into Dean’s eyes. His touch sends a warm sensation up her arm and spreads through her entire body. God, does it feel wonderful. A warmth she didn’t think she’d feel again since the approach of the end has left her feeling stone cold. It’s only now that she notices how he leans into her, until his forehead rests against hers. A quivering sigh leaves her lips as she squeezes her eyes shut, moved by his tenderness.

After some time, she whispers, “You know what?” She creates a little distance, cupping his face and rubbing her thumb through his scruff. His pupils bounce between hers, taking in every feature. For a second her eyes light up, ignited by the connection between the two of them. “Of all the people, dead or alive, that I could spend my final moments with, I’m glad it’s you,” she says, contented. “I want you to know that I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

A smile spreads across Dean’s face, creating lines that tell exactly how much those words mean to him. She mirrors his expression as he reaches up to sweep her hair from her face, then traces her jawline with his fingertips. The look that he gives her is unlike any gaze he’s given her before, because this time, he doesn’t hold back.

Dean leans in, inching closer and about to do the one thing he has been longing for. “I should have done this a long time ago.” He kisses her, in the most loving, gentle and yet passionate way possibly imaginable. Only now he realizes how desperate he was for this moment, how long he waited. How long he kept torturing himself by convincing his heart with his mind that he could never have her, that she would never love him.

Y/N lets it wash over her and returns this symbol of his love by pulling him deeper into the kiss with the little strength that she has left. Dean takes his sweet time to let her feel how much she means to him, his lips lingering on hers. Then he slowly breaks the connection, cherishing the moment as he rests his forehead against hers. His eyes remain closed, but eventually he allows himself to gaze at the universe in her eyes. Overcome she stares back, witnessing a shade of green somewhere between hidden rainforest and soothing emerald. Suddenly, she feels it. An urge, the words on the tip of her tongue waiting for her mouth to open. Of course she’s scared of rejection, of the aftermath, but she doesn’t let it win. No, for once she says exactly what her heart tells her to say. Then the one man who she never expected to say it out loud, beats her to it.

“I love you, y’know that?” Stunned she stares at him, tears welling up again. She didn’t know. She hoped, she dreamed, but she didn’t know. God, she wishes she knew! She would have spent her time differently, she would have stayed by his side every minute, every second. She would have been more careful. She would have told him how much she loves him so many times that maybe one day he might even start loving himself instead of remaining hateful for the wrongs and mistakes he made. Now might be a good time to let him know. Better late than never. “I love you, too,” she tells him.

The realization of being loved is a beautiful thing to witness. The moment of disbelief, then astonishment, followed by a gratitude that grows to a volume that causes his eyes to pour over. It’s astounding that despite the grim future, he is able to shed a few tears of happiness. She loves him, how amazing is that? “We’ve got piss poor timing, though,” he remarks, making her chuckle.

The comment was meant to be funny, to bring back that bright smile and those bright eyes once more. It works, but then it also states the awful truth. This story barely began and it’s already coming to an end. And so her smile fades as she comes back down from her cloud. The rush of her amazing moment with Dean was coursing through her body like ecstasy, but its effect fade fast. It’s beginning to sink in how exhausted she truly is, how much of an effort it is just to sit upright. Breathing is becoming a mission and the pain from her leg has spread through her entire body. “I could use that drink right now,” she says, hinting at the bottle of moonshine.

‘Let's disinfect that wound first and get desperate later, okay?’ That was Dean’s response when she asked for the drink last night. That they’re desperate would be an understatement, so with a little reluctance he hands her the liquor. Letting her drink the alcohol feels like giving up in a way, but he helps her take a sip nonetheless when she is unable to heave the bottle to her mouth on her own. Just a sip is all it takes to trigger a cough. “It’s not Jack…” she admits. “But it’ll do.” Dean sets the bottle down and scoots up against the wall next to her, slipping his arm behind her back. Tired, she rests her head against his chest after he pulls her close. His steady heartbeat drums against her ear as he caresses her shoulder. It feels so good to finally let her guard down around Dean, to be close to him without having to be afraid to show too much affection.

“I don’t want this to end,” she whispers. Dean nuzzles his nose in her hair, trying to comfort her with his touch. She can’t see, though, that he has closed his eyes, trying to prevent himself from falling apart. “Me neither,” he responds, his voice soft. “We still have some time, right?” She nods, weakened, although she can’t say for sure if ‘some time’ can be expressed in hours or minutes.

Oh, boy... I know, it hurts. If you wanna rant, cry or scream at me, go right ahead and hit up my inbox. Stay tuned for the finale soon!

Read the final part here!

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