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underground-secret · 3 months

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The Hunter and The Witch~ Dean Winchester x F!reader

Description: After getting a call from John Winchester after no contact for months. The group gets led to a town in which a couple goes missing every year around the same time. But Sam doesn’t want to follow orders anymore, and the town still needs help.

Warnings: Cannon Violence, fight scene (tell me how i did, im still learning how to write it!), arguing, a little angst, talk of crimes, cursing (i think), talk about sacrifices and Pagan rituals (i fricken love learning about Paganism), Y/N gets a little snarky and cocky, use of magic and abilities

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44, @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn

Word Count: …14,005

Scarecrow

(Master List, Prev. Chapter, Next Chapter)

“So you’re with the Winchesters?” Adeline says, her voice just as husky and amused as I remembered. It had been months since we talked, I'm surprised she wasn’t mad at me, though maybe she was and she was just hiding it well. “Yes.” I answer simply, waiting for the impending lecture.

“I should be surprised, but I'm not,” She remarks, and I can hear the smirk on her face.

“You know B/N said nearly the same thing!” I laughed lightly, but it soon died down when she didn't join in instead going completely quiet.

“You should have told me.” She says, venom on her tongue, but I know it’s out of worry. “No text, no call, not even a letter! I show up at your house. Not only are you not there I have to find out from your co-workers that you quit and haven’t been in contact with anyone. Did you quit because of those Winchesters? ‘Cause I swear to God I wil-“

“No!, quitting had nothing to do with them.” I cut her rant off, “Look Addie I'm sorry. I got so caught up in it all I didn’t think of telling anyone.” I sigh, leaving out the part I forgot I had people who cared about me—which is so stupid. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to hurt you or scare you. But that isn’t what I called for…”

Suddenly a sharp demanding knock sounds at my door. I don’t move for a second, watching it, “One sec, Addie” I place my phone down on the bed pulling back the heavy blankets. I tiptoe to the door, the rough carpet dragging on my feet. I take a deep breath preparing myself for the worst, I unlock the door, creaking it open just wide enough to see who is there.

Dean stands there, his eyes wide and his hair a little messy, still in his pajamas. A black shirt and some plaid pajama pants, though I figured he might have thrown those on before coming to my door- I knew he wasn’t foreign to sleeping with just a shirt and underwear on. I open the door further, “Are you okay? What happened?” I spew out.

“Get dressed. Dad called, ‘doesn't want us following him. He's going after the thing that killed Mom, says it’s a demon. He gave us a bunch of names and needs us to go investigate. Meet by the car.” He answers quickly. I stared at him, all of this was rushed, we barely got any sleep and we were already leaving rather quickly. He looks me over, nods, and then walks away back down the hall to his room, giving me no chance to ask if he was okay.

I closed the door a little shocked, making my way back to my phone and before it was even by my ear I heard the impatient click of her nails against some hard surface, “Now what” she huffed. Definitely mad at me. “I’ll have to call you back later” I sigh, “I need to go.”

“No you don’t get to just call me—“ She nearly yells but I cut her off again, “Addie I promise I’ll call you back.” The line goes silent for a beat and I wonder if she’s still there.

She sighs, “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m okay” I smiled sadly, yet even as the words passed my lips my stomach twisted itself, “I will call you.”

“Fine.” She huffs but she doesn't sound so convinced.

“I love you, Addie.” I say, and I mean it.

“I love you too. Stay safe, and call me!”

“Alright, just to double check all those names are couples?” I ask from the back seat of the Impala, copying notes down on a little notepad. “Three different couples. All went missing.” Dean confirms from the passenger seat. The darkness of the night cloaks us in its cold embrace.

“You said they were from all different states, Washington, New York, Colorado, and all went missing at the same time each year trying to travel across the country. But is it possible that it’s just a serial killer? Not to undermine your fathers findings.” I explain motioning my pen around as I speak, “I mean it is possible the suspect lives in Indiana, knows the roads well, and which way people go when road-tripping. Then being able to intercept them therefore fulfilling his or her urge. Then that kill can satisfy them till next year.”

“I guess, but they always disappeared in the second week of April. One year after another after another. That’s pretty weird.” Dean points out.

“Not necessarily, serial killers can have a certain connection to a date like an anniversary of something. Feeling only the need to do such an act during said time.” I ramble.

“Well, we’re still checking it out” Dean answers plainly, practically shutting down my theory. I guess it’s safer to check but it’s nighttime. I didn’t get any sleep, they barely got any sleep, and rushing over to Indiana in a 3-hour long car ride doesn't sound so fun if it turns out not to be a supernatural thing. “And this is the second week of April.” Sam remarks.

“Yep.” Dean nods.

“So, Dad is sending us to Indiana to go hunting for something before another couple vanishes?” Sam asks, though it’s clear he knows the answer.

“Yahtzee. Can you imagine putting together a pattern like this? All the different obituaries Dad had to go through? The man’s a master.” Dean beams, flipping through the papers he had on the missing couples. He very clearly looked up to his Dad in some manner, even though he wasn’t deserving of such praise. I know Sam feels this way too, he never had an issue calling out John and he certainly can see all that’s wrong with how they grew up. The thing is I know Dean knew too, he was just trained to be loyal.

I watch Sam in the rearview mirror, his nostrils flaring in anger, his hands gripping the steering wheel harder until the knuckles turn white. He pulled the car off to the side of the road, sharply, my body jerking at the motion. “What are you doing?” Dean asks confused, straightening the way he sat.

“We’re not going to Indiana.” Sam says firmly.

“We’re not?” Dean replies, shock and amusement written on his features.

“No. We’re going to California.” Sam answers, “Dad called from a payphone. Sacramento area code.”

“Sam.” Dean warns.

“Dean, if this demon killed Mom and Jess, and Dad’s closing in, we’ve gotta be there. We’ve gotta help.” Sam reasons, and I don’t disagree.

“Dad doesn’t want our help.” Dean argues, his voice getting louder.

“I don’t care.” Sam answers rather calmly.

“He’s given us an order.” Dean bites, using one of his favorite excuses.

“I don’t care.” He repeats himself, this time more firmly, “We don’t always have to do what he says.”

“Sam, Dad is asking us to work jobs, to save lives, it’s important.” Dean tries to explain.

“Please stop fighting, why don’t we work this job, put all our energy into it. Work it quickly. Then immediately head to California, both of you win” I offer, always the person trying to cool the fight down and offer some sort of solution. But even as the words leave my mouth I know I’m wrong, this argument is more than working a case or chasing demons. This is years of grief built up. Sam half turns to view me, his eyes are pained and I almost think he might be close to tears, “It won’t be enough. You said it yourself. My Dad moves fast, if we don’t head there right now we’ll miss him entirely.” He looks between both of us now as he adds, “But I’m talking one week here, to get answers. To get revenge.”

Dean sighs, “Alright, look, I know how you feel.”

“Do you?” Sam spits, nearly yelling. “How old were you when Mom died? Four? Jess died six months ago. How the hell would you know how I feel?”

Oh. This is old grief on top of new grief, he hasn’t coped with the loss of his girlfriend not that we could have expected him to. It’s too soon. These emotions are too raw, too new. Dean matches his brother yelling, “Dad said it wasn’t safe. For any of us. I mean, he knows something that we don’t, so if he says to stay away, we stay away.”

“I don’t understand the blind faith you have in the man. I mean, it’s like you don’t even question him.” Sam argues, looking at his brother strangely.

“Yeah, it’s called being a good son!” Dean yells. The tension has exploded, the car falling quiet in its aftermath. My dislike for their father seemed to grow ten folds, to make your own child feel like that—

“Dean, that’s no—“ But before I can say anything more about it Sam exits the car. Slamming the door behind him. Dean and I get out of the car following him to the trunk where he unloads his things from. “You’re a selfish bastard, you know that? You just do whatever you want. Don’t care what anybody thinks.” Dean yells.

“Dean!” I snap, “This has gone far enough, you don’t get to say things like that, he’s your brother! Both of you calm down, please.” I didn’t want Sam to be treated like this, not from his brother who I know cares about him. “No. It’s okay, Y/N” Sam says calmly, his movements slowing as he stares his brother down, “Is that what you really think?”

“Yes, it is.” Dean gives a single sharp nod.

“Well.” Sam shuts the trunk, “then this selfish bastard is going to California.” he puts his backpack on and starts to walk away.

No. This can’t be happening. “Dean,” I say desperately, he has to apologize or stop him so they can talk it out. This isn’t my place but I can’t watch this happen. He looks out at his brother, “Sam, come on. You’re not serious”

“I am serious.” Sam responds, still walking away.

“It’s the middle of the night!” Dean yells out, “Hey, we’re taking off, I will leave your ass, you hear me?”

Sam stops walking, turning around, “That’s what I want you to do.”

I let out a frustrated groan, “What the hell is wrong with you both?! Just talk it out, we can come to some sort of agreement or—or reason with each other.” I practically beg. Both their eyes fall to me but Dean just responds with, “He’s made up his mind” his eyes turn back towards his brother, “Goodbye Sam.”

I stand frozen, eyes wide, this is not happening.

Dean grabs hold of my wrist, his hand warm despite the cold night, practically dragging me to the passenger side of the car. He waits for me to sit and buckle myself before closing the door and making his way to the driver's side. He gets in, putting the car in drive.

I watch Sam turn back around and walk away in the car's side mirror. Dean must have been watching too because he slams his fist on the steering wheel, takes a deep breath, and then does it again and again. I place my hand over his just as it connects with the steering wheel again. “Dean…” I say softly, but it comes out more like a plea. His hand goes still under mine, and when I turn my face to look at him, his eyes are glossy.

He does not turn to look at me though, keeping his eyes straight ahead at the dark road. “Dean” I say weakly, letting out a shaky breath feeling my own eyes welling up, “please, stop the car.” He listens, slamming on the brakes, my body jolting at the sharp stop. He snaps his head towards me, “Why so you could leave too?!”

I lean away from him retracting my hand, placing it on my lap, “No” I say quietly. But his reaction made me want to leave, the tears in my eyes finally fell over, spilling down my cheeks, “Do not take your anger out on me.” He sighs, turning his face away from me, cursing.

“I know you don’t want to hear this…but you must” I begin to say, having to pause to clear my voice of its shakiness, “I care for you both a lot but I’m so sick of you guys constantly fighting over something stupid when all you have to do is talk.”

“That's easy for you to say.” Dean snaps back, still looking away from me.

I huff, annoyed, “See! You get all standoffish instead of dealing with your emotions and I know that's what you’re used to but you don't have to be that way around me of all people.” He goes quiet, with no snappy comeback or even a grunt of annoyance. His jaw clenches and I wonder if that's from anger, trying to hold back tears, or both. “What if were destined to always hate each other,” he says quietly, and I know he means him and Sam. “He doesn't hate you, and I know you don't feel that way either,” I answer softly, even when I know what he truly means. He turns his head towards me, a single tear rolling down his cheek, “Then why does he keep leaving?!” he says through gritted teeth the last word coming out as if he spit venom.

In truth, I can't possibly know what he feels. He raised Sam and was there every moment of every day. He saw him take his first step and say his first word, brought him to school, fed him, put him to bed, and kept him safe. I was more like Sam in that aspect, I was the youngest with an older brother who took care of me and looked out for me. Honestly more than our own Dad, maybe that’s why he and Dean got along together so well- a shared understanding.

So, no, I could not understand exactly what he felt, not even a fraction of it. But even despite that I reached my hand out carefully, my fingertips barely brushing his cheek before pausing giving him time to pull away and hide if he wanted to. He didn't. I cup his cheek, whipping away another tear that fell. His green eyes seemed softer then like his anger had diminished enough but still lay beneath the tears. I don't have all the answers, “I know it may not seem like it, but he isn't leaving you. He went off to college ‘cause he wanted a chance away from this life. Even now he is going in hopes of stopping what started this all, he’s going to come back…your brothers you can't escape each other even if you wanted to.”

It's not a solution, and I don't expect it to help. But all I can do is hope it eases something in him. He leans his face into my hand, his eyes fluttering shut as he takes a deep breath in.

In one quick motion, I unbuckle my seat belt with my free hand. He must have known what I was going to do because he removed his face from my hand only to put the car in park, release his seat belt, and turn his body so I could hug him properly. I close the distance between us so I can wrap my arms around his neck, his body immediately reacts to my movements. His head falls to the crook of my neck, his arms wrapping around my waist. He pulls my body impossibly closer and tighter.

His breathing gives him away, his warm breath coming out uneven against my neck a wetness forming against where he resides. I don't say anything about him crying, or anything at all, I just move my hand up and down his back in soothing motions, hoping to ease him.

I do not know how I managed it but after he finished crying I got him to switch seats with me so he could rest while I drove. I've never driven the Impala before, maybe this was him showing me he trusted me even though I already knew he did, or maybe it was tiredness overtaking him. But the drive was pretty straightforward and it was dark so there wasn’t a worry about other cars.

He managed to drift off, which I was envious of but I was more proud of being able to drive Baby to notice my exhaustion. I even got to play music that wasn’t the usual rock songs he liked to play, which I don’t have any problem with but a change is nice sometimes (even if I played it very quietly so he could rest).

Just as we pulled into the small town he woke up, grumbling a “good morning” before staying silent the rest of the time. He went on his phone at one point, pulling up the contacts but ultimately he did not call anyone. “Ok, ready?” I ask, shutting off the car after pulling into a spot.

“Yeah” He nods, his voice still a little gravely from sleep. I hand him back his keys before exiting the car, the pure feeling of accomplishment pulling over me. I drove Baby accident-free and made it to the destination! I’m so good!!

We walked up to the only person in sight, an older man sitting on a wooden rocking chair in front of a café. Maybe it was too early for anyone else to be out, it certainly felt too early to be up though I guess I never really went to sleep.

“Let me guess,” Dean points to the store's sign that reads Scotty’s Café, “Scotty.” He looked proud of his stupid joke if you could even call it that, a dumb grin on his face. Scotty looks up at the sign and then back at us looking unamused, “Yep,”

“Hi, my name’s John Bonham and this is Pat Phillips” Dean introduces us both, and I want to glare at him for using a member from a popular band's name but if Scotty doesn't know then the glaring would give it away.

But of course, our luck has long run out, “Isn’t that the drummer for Led Zeppelin?” He looks at Dean pointedly then at me, “And his wife?” Now I really do glare at him, I didn’t know Pat Phillips was Bonham's wife! I barely knew Bonham was the drummer for Led Zeppelin, only remembering because of Dean rambling about it. Dean looks at me, eyes raised as if to silently say he didn’t think he would know. He turns back to Scotty, shock clear on his face, “Wow. Good. Classic rock fan.” Alright, he wasn’t even trying to deny it, great.

“What can I do for you, John?” Scotty asks anyway and I’m surprised he didn’t completely write us off. Dean takes out two pieces of paper from his pocket, unfolding the missing person's flyers. “I was wondering if, uh, you’d seen these people by chance.”

Scotty takes the flyers, barely studying them before answering, “Nope. Who are they?” Huh, that was a little weird, I would think he would want to think harder about it. I study the older man but his face reveals nothing, no fear in his eyes.

“They’re really close friends of ours, honestly we’re worried,” I explained while trying to test him, if he is responsible and he knows friends are looking for them and hasn’t given up he might crack a little. “They’ve been missing for a year now, passed somewhere through here. And we already asked around Salem and Scottsburg—“ But he doesn't let me finish my list, “Sorry.” He hands back the flyers to Dean, “We don’t get many strangers around here.”

Once more his eyes and face reveal nothing but still something about him is coming off weird.

“Scotty, you’ve got a smile that lights up a room, ‘anybody ever tell you that?” Dean tells him, earning a glare from the man himself. Dean chuckles, amusing himself at this point, “Never mind. See you around.”

I wait until we’re back in the car to say something, Dean taking his rightful place in the driver's seat, “Is it me or was that guy acting weird about this all?”

“Nah, he just doesn't have expressions,” Dean responds. I laughed, “That is not what I meant!”, I turned in my seat to face him, “Okay if someone came to you and was all like ‘my friend went missing and she’s been gone a long time and I think she passed through here do you know anything.’ Wouldn’t you really study the photo and try and think back, especially cause it’s a year ago. Scotty barely looked at the photo!”

He seems to contemplate what I said, “ ‘Could also just be a jerk.” he responds. I let out a frustrated sigh, “Dean.”

“Alright, you could be onto something sweetheart. We’ll keep asking around.”

Our next stop is a sort of Gas Station, all road trip essentials lining the walls from maps to mixed nuts. Aka the perfect place someone would stop at on their trip. “You sure they didn’t stop for gas or something?” Dean asks the older couple working.

“Nope, don’t remember ‘em. You said they were friends of yours?” The man who introduced himself as Harley responded.

“Yes, dear friends,” I answered.

“Did the guy have a tattoo?” A sweet blonde girl probably around our age asks, coming down the nearby stairs with a large box in her hand, her face just barely visible. “Yes, he did,” Dean responds. She puts the boxes on the counter and looks at the picture of the dark haired Vince then back up at the couple, “You remember? They were just married.”

Harley’s eyes suddenly widened making a little ‘oh’ sound, “You’re right. They did stop for gas. Weren’t here’ more than ten minutes.” Dean and I shared a look, now this guy wanted to suddenly remember. “You remember anything else?” Dean pushes further.

“I told ‘em how to get back to the Interstate. They left town.” Harley answers, finally sharing some truth. These townspeople were strange. “Would you be able to point us the same way?” I ask him, eyeing him carefully.

“Sure.”

Dean drives down the long road, slower than usual, both of us looking for anything unusual or suspicious. There was undoubtedly something going on whether it was supernatural or not. But there wasn’t much near us, just trees and endless roads.

We pass by what looks to be an orchard, apples hanging from the lush trees.

If I was kidnapping and possibly killing people I would choose somewhere along this Interstate, it was practically dead and no one would suspect anyone driving here even late at night. My thoughts are cut off by a violent buzzing noise coming from just behind me, most likely in the back seat. I turn to Dean, giving him a confused look, he turns his head to the back of the car looking instead of the road. “Dean. Road” I remind him, his eyes going back where they belong.

I unbuckle my seatbelt, shifting myself so that I was kneeling on the seat. I lean over the back seat, having to drop down low to reach his duffle bag, the top of the seat digging into my gut. My ass is definitely sticking up in the air and most likely close to Dean, but I ignore the embarrassment of that idea as I shuffle through his bag. I move one of his shirts around, finding the cause of the loud noise, “It’s your EMF” I call out hoping he can hear me even with my head still buried in the little space between the floor of the car and the backseat. I grab the box, the medal heavy in my hand.

I lift myself up and back to my seat half turned and sitting on my legs, it continues to buzz violently, the meter blaring to the red. “‘Think it’s the orchard” he announces, pulling the car off to the side of the road. We venture into the trees.

The ground was soft beneath my shoes, a light morning dew still clinging to the grass. If this was any other day or occasion I’d say it’s a rather nice orchard but the EMF has not stopped, and I think if it could go any further red it certainly would be there.

The trees were all lined up, apples scattered about the ground and a potent scent of rotten fruit following it. From where we pulled over it wasn’t hard to find the middle of the orchard, the trees cut down in almost a circle, except some paths that broke away in various directions.

A tall post stood in the middle, a creepy scarecrow on it. It looked rather human and full rather than stuffed with straw. Its face looked like a mask with stitches adorning it and hollow eyes, greasy long hair flowing from beneath his fedora. The only scarecrow-like thing about him was the fact he was tied to a wooden post and had a sort of jumper with patches on it, though the added black trench coat contradicted this. And in his hand was a sickle, what was meant to be used for agriculture only made him that much creepy.

Its head was leaned down, and looking up at it made it only seem like he was staring down at us with those empty eyes. “Dude, you're fugly.” Dean says out loud and I almost expect the thing to move or respond, but it doesn't. “Maybe you should say sorry to him.” I practically mumble to Dean. If it came to life I didn’t want a target on his back for insulting it, or mine if it thought I was guilty by association.

“Why would I say sorry?” he counters.

“So that he doesn't kill you if it comes to life!”

“I think it’d kill us either way”

Rationally I knew he was right, but the thought of something like a doll or in this case a scarecrow coming to life creeped me out a little too much, “Good point, but he is horrifying.”

“Yeah, horrifyingly ugly” He chuckles at his own joke, a stupid smile on his face. I try to hide my own laughing, not wanting to encourage him.

“I think I see something,” He murmurs. He moves back, turning to the closest tree with a ladder against it. He picks it up as if it weighs nothing, placing it right next to the scarecrow. He climbs it until he’s at eye level with the thing. I watch his eyes fall to the hand that held the sickle, his gaze at its wrist. Its sleeve ripped a bit revealing leathered “skin” and a sort of design.

I wrack my brain for any customs or cultures that decorate scarecrows beyond just its clothing and face, but I couldn’t come up with anything. Why would anyone put a design on a scarecrow's wrist?

Dean pulls out a paper from the inside of his jacket, unfolding it swiftly before placing it near the thing, comparing the two. “Look who has a nice tat.” he says, turning the paper down so I could see. He held Vince’s missing poster, the young man holding a mug in his hand the perfect pose to see his tattoo. Detailed ink with all sorts of shapes I could even begin to describe, I look back up at the scarecrows tattoo. The two are the exact same, far too alike to be any sort of coincidence.

“Nice tat indeed.”

We immediately got in the car and turned around back to the town. Something was going on and someone was causing it. Now Dean pulls the car into the local gas station. Turning it off and exiting, I nearly stay put in the passenger seat until I see the same blonde girl from before walking up to the car. We needed answers and she seemed to be the only one willing to help.

I exit the car, keeping the door open as I lean my arms on the roof of the car. “You’re back” she greeted, smiling. “Never left.” He replies smoothly.

“Still looking for your friends?” She asks, acknowledging us both. “Yup, call it stubbornness or what have you but we aren’t given up.” I respond, still pushing the same agenda as before. “I’d call that a good friend,” she smiles.

I don’t think she’s involved in all this, she’s willing to answer our questions when no one else was and she seemed to genuinely care. If she was involved then she was quite the actor. “You mind fillin’ her up there, Emily?” Dean asks her, nodding his head towards the car. The nameplate necklace she wore came into view as she grabbed the pump and began to fill the tank. That’s how he knew her name.

“Did you grow up here?” I ask, starting back up conversation.

“I came here when I was thirteen. I lost my parents. Car accident. My aunt and uncle took me in.” She explains shortly.

“They’re nice people.” Dean replies plainly. She nods as she speaks, “Everybody’s nice here.”

“So, what, it’s the, uh, perfect little town?” Dean shrugs, nonchalantly.

“Well, you know, it’s the boonies. But I love it.” she pauses for a moment, “I mean, the towns around us, people are losing their homes, their farms. But here, it’s almost like we’re blessed.”

Dean turns his head towards me, giving me a look. This definitely was weird, I mean how could every town around them be failing but not here?Were they making sacrifices to the scarecrow? It would make sense considering its tattoo. Dean turns back around to Emily, “Hey, you been out to the orchard? ‘You seen that scarecrow?” We were thinking the same thing.

“Yeah, it creeps me out.” She answers her nose scrunching. “You can say that again” I laugh, “Do you know who owns it?”

“I don’t know. It’s just always been there.” She shrugs.

He nods to something behind her, I turn my gaze to it, my eyes landing on a red van parked by a garage, “That your aunt and uncle’s?” he asks.

She shakes her head, “Customer. Had some car troubles.” That’s a little too convenient, “Is it a couple by any chance? A guy and a girl?” I ask, worried that they might be the town's next victims.

She nods even as her face twists with confusion, “Mmhmm.”

As soon as the Impala's tank was filled, and Emily gestured toward the couple's location, we wasted no time heading straight there. Dean opens the glass door for me, the little welcome bell ringing above us. I walk in first, immediately being hit with the sweet smell of baked goods, the culprit of it being a thick piece of apple pie that Scotty delivered to a couple sitting by the window.

“Oh, hey, Scotty. Can I get a coffee, black?” Dean greets, walking in behind me, adding “And a green tea…actually while you’re at it some of that pie too.” I have to hold back the smile that wants to escape onto my face, he was being slightly annoying on purpose which is proved further when Scotty gives him a nasty look before walking away. But beyond that I’m surprised Dean knew what I wanted, yes I drank tea quite often but how did he know I was feeling that flavor in particular?

He moves to sit at a table right next to the couple, I sit in the chair next to him trying to come up with a conversation starter for the people only a table away. I mean how do you say ‘hey you’re in danger! haha, please leave town’ to someone without them thinking you're actually insane? I am pulled out of my thoughts at the feeling of my chair moving, a soft scratching noise below it. Immediately I see Deans hand at the side of my chair, pulling me closer to him without saying or looking at me.

I try to ignore his strange antics and the butterflies that flutter in the depths of my stomach at his movement as he talks to the dark haired couple, “How ya doin’?” God for someone whose usually so smooth he was being so awkward. They share a weird look clearly looking uncomfortable before waving and smiling. But their uninterest in starting a conversation with strangers is very obvious as the girl leans closer to her boyfriend placing her arm up to lean her head on as if to block us out.

“Just passing through?” Dean continues, ignoring their reactions. “Road trip.” The girl answers plainly, clearly trying to shut down the conversation.

“Hm.” Dean hums his hand suddenly finding my thigh. My heart lurches, my leg twitching slightly at the sudden movement but he just gives me a little squeeze before readjusting his hold. Splaying his warm hand against my thigh, his fingers hooking onto the inside of my leg as he pulls them apart slightly, the gap just big enough to hold my thigh comfortably. He gives me another squeeze as if he was testing the feel of me again…oh god.

My brain seemed to short circuit, any logical thoughts I had turning into a mass space of blankness and static. I swallowed roughly, my heart beating out of my chest and the butterflies in my stomach flying frantically in warmth. This was just for a cover, if we acted as a couple too then they might feel more comfortable and inclined to talk with us, I try to reason with myself. But god when did my face get all warm? Stay focused Y/N, stay focused, I repeat to myself in my head. This wasn’t the time. Can’t be thinking of my feelings for him or the fact that this was only making me feel more desperate for him. Stay focused.

“Us too” He adds, and I have to think for a second what he’s talking about…Oh yes, we are also on a road trip, yeah.

Scotty walks over with a pitcher of something brownish orange, maybe it was apple cider considering this town clearly has a large supply of it. He moves right past us, refilling the couples cups, “I’m sure these people want to eat in peace.” he scolds us.

“Just a little friendly conversation.” Dean smiles up at the grumpy man who begins to walk away, “Oh, and that coffee and tea, too, man. Thanks.” Scotty just stares at him, the scowl on his face deepening, but he doesn't say anything as he walks away fully. “So, what brings you to town?” I ask softly, a sweet smile on my face in hopes of erasing the awkwardness in the air.

The girl answers, “We just stopped for gas. And, uh, the guy at the gas station saved our lives.”

“Aw, really!” I respond trying to sound amused.

The guy answers this time, “Yeah, one of our brake lines was leaking. We had no idea. He was fixing it for us.”

“That’s really sweet” I nod with a smile even as concern eats at me. They were definitely going to be the next victims. But I’m also terribly confused, I have no idea what he was talking about. I'm guessing a broken brake line means you won’t be able to stop the car but I didn’t know it could leak…

“Yeah.” The man nods trying to go back to his food.

All at once it hits me, I nearly want to kick myself for not thinking about it right away. I want to blame it on Dean's hand placement but it was most likely my lack of sleep because I was in fact enjoying his hand on my thigh…

This small town in Indiana was practicing Pagan rituals, and as much as I hate to admit it learning about Pagans was one of my favorite things to do.

“So, how long till you’re up and runnin’?” Dean asks them.

“Sundown.”

It was common in Paganism to sacrifice something or someone to the gods. It was a time where they didn’t understand why certain things happened like crops dying, so they blamed this on not respecting the Gods enough. When the real cause could have been for a number of reasons from lack of water to not crop rotating…

“Really.” Dean pauses for a minute, “To fix a brake line?” He receives a nod. “I mean, you know, I know a thing or two about cars. I could probably have you up and running in about an hour. I wouldn’t charge you anything.” He offers.

…However in terms of supernatural beings when these sacrifices were made it did work, whether or not it was the Gods “cursing” them or just not understanding agriculture. Either way it did work, the gods answered, and the bigger the sacrifice the bigger the payout which is why they typically did human sacrifices, sometimes even on a mass scale.

“You know, thanks a lot, but I think we’d rather have a mechanic do it.” The girl replies, looking nervously at her boyfriend.

“Are you sure?” I chime in, “He really is good, I mean you should see the level of care he puts into his own car. ‘Keeping it all good even though it’s decades older than him, he even keeps my old car in check.” I knew with every word I was stroking his ego, but it was true. Beyond his own car I can count on two hands the amount of times he helped with my old Volkswagen Beetle, he’s probably the reason why it still works.

In the corner of my eye I can see his cocky sexy grin, he squeezes my thigh once more and my thoughts fizzle out again as a kaleidoscope of butterflies flutters in my gut. Jesus Christ, Dean Winchester will be the death of me without knowing.

“Yeah we’re sure” The girl insists.

“Sure.” Dean pauses, his smile dropping, “You know, it’s just that these roads. They’re not real safe at night.” I guess he figures they won’t listen any other way. The couple exchanged a look, “I’m sorry?”

Dean leans in closer, “I know it sounds strange, but, uh—you might be in danger.”

The man finally snaps, looking annoyed, “Look, we’re trying to eat. Okay?”

“Yeah.” Dean says disappointingly, "You know, my brother could give you this puppy dog look, and you’d just buy right into it.” The couple looks at him strangely.

The bell above the door rings and I figure we don’t have much time left, “Look we aren’t trying to bother you and ruin your day, okay, I’m sorry.” I start, looking back at the Sheriff who had walked in. I lean in, speaking just low enough for them to hear, “But you really are in danger, for the last couple of years couples have gone missing this time of year repeatedly withou—“

“I’d like a word with you both.” The sheriff practically booms. I go quiet giving the couple a warning look both to say to listen to what I said and to not bring anything up now, they look scared and hesitant.

“Come on. I’m having a bad day already, ‘m just tryna make it better with my girlfriend” Dean reasons, I know it’s a lie but the way the word slipped so easily from his lips made my heart flutter.

“You know what would make it worse?” The sheriff replies. Dean releases his hold on my thigh, a tingling feeling taking its place. We got up and followed the man outside then following his orders, he was going to follow us out of town and we weren’t allowed back.

We drive down the interstate, both knowing we would turn back once it was clear. But for now we trudge toward passing by a sign that says ‘Thanks for visiting Burkittsville.’ I check the side mirror, the sheriff making a U-turn, heading back to town. Great.

“Should we find a motel nearby and return at night?” I ask, knowing the couple wouldn’t have a car to leave with ‘till sundown.

“Yeah, you need sleep” He hums. I wonder if he’s saying that because he knows I haven't slept at all. “Unfortunately I will not be sleeping ‘cause I have a very good idea on what’s going on and I wanna research further” I answer, opening up the glovebox to pull out the map that resided there.

I unfold it, tracking down Indiana and then the small town we just left, following the colored lines. “I think if we stay straight we’ll be at a rest stop in about 15 mins” I mumble, hopefully reading it right.

“Anyways!” I place the map down in my lap, “I’m very sure this town is sacrificing the couples to a Pagan God.”

“‘Thinking the same,” He answers.

“Okay, good. Now I'm not 100% sure i’m right on which one it is ‘cause there’s a lot of agricultural Gods as well as Gods of the woods, but the second I can search it up I’ll confirm it.” I ramble, talking with my hands.

“To be honest, sweetheart, ‘don’t know much about Norse Gods except the basics.”

“Oh don’t you worry, I got this” I beam.

I grumble for the fifth time typing different wording into the search bar. I want to scream as the page turns blank, the only words on the screen being ‘No Results.’

“What is it?” Dean asks from where he lays in his bed his fathers journal open, looking for anything on Norse Gods.

“Somehow there is nothing on Vanir Gods and when I mean nothing I mean nothing!” I get up from my bed walking the short distance to his, I climb on it putting my legs beneath me. I turned my laptop towards him, showing him the screen, “See!”

His eyebrows scrunch up looking just as confused as I feel, “I know we aren’t in the town anymore but do you think it’s somehow related?” I ask.

“Maybe. We aren’t that far from Burkittsville” He answers, taking my laptop and searching up ‘Books about Vanir Gods’ but again the same message pops up ‘No Results.’

He types in ‘Books about Norse Gods’ a couple searches pop up the main one being a thick book only available in a college in Burkittsville. “That’s so strange.” I mumble, I mean how could they be interfering with the internet.

“If they can make sacrifices to a god I’m guessing they could mess with google of all things. We’ll go there later” Dean responds and I’m sure he means after making sure the couple is safe. He closes my laptop, “You should sleep, I’ll wake you”

I studied him for a moment, and he was right. I should sleep, it sounds wonderful actually. I nod getting up, I don’t even bother changing into comfortable clothes or even taking off my bra I just crawl underneath the covers of my bed. “Good night, Dean.” But it was hardly close to night time.

He smiles, “ ‘Night baby.”

Dean sped down the interstate, the sun was nearly down and we would have been there on time if not for all the semi trucks in the truck stop not knowing how to exit. You really think it wouldn’t be so hard.

Continuing by the vast orchard, we scanned for a red van parked on the side, hoping to beat them there.

After some more driving, we eventually stumbled upon the deserted car, devoid of anyone. He stopped the car short even as we still had multiple feet between us and the vacant van.

He turns the car off and I meet him by the trunk, he hands me a shotgun, “Go through here, cut ‘em off--get in front” he rattles off the plan as he cocks his own gun. I nod, cocking my gun before shutting the trunk as he takes the lead.

I catch up to him, running at his side, passing through each tree as my shoes crush the fallen apples with a satisfying crunch.

I squint my eyes, the dark haired couple too far away to get there before the dark figure of the scarecrow does. It was a clear distance away, I could bring us there in a moment's time. I’ve practiced this sort of distance before, it was doable, and nothing like the asylum. “Get ready to shoot 45 degrees to your left” I shouted, reaching a hand out to grasp Dean's shoulder. He meets my eyes with a look of determination hard in his irises. I focus back ahead on the target, forcing my energy there.

The air ripples around us even as we continue to run, in a blink of an eye we’re in front of the couple. A loud shot rings out, Dean shoots the thing square in the chest. But all it does is stumble back before it continues to walk forward.

Its head was tilted slightly, that greasy hair dangling on his shoulders, the sickle gripped tightly in its leathery hand. “Get back to your car!” I yell behind me, “Go!” I looked behind me for a split second, they were running and we weren’t too far from the orchards clearing.

Almost at the same time Dean and I start walking backward away from the horrifying thing. I raise my shotgun up, shooting it right in its chest as Dean cocks his gun again. But these salt bullets were doing nothing and was hardly buying us time, “Get ready to run!” Dean orders as he shoots the thing again.

Not needing to tell me twice I shift my footing, running towards the clearing right after the couple. Beyond Dean's own shoes hitting the ground hard next to me I could hear the subtle click of its boots walking the ground. Now I know how every character in Halloween felt as Myers went after them.

I do the thing that you should never do in a horror movie and turn my head to see how close the scarecrow was. It couldn’t be more than 10 feet away, “Screw this” I mumble, twisting my footing again so I could walk backwards as it came towards us. I uncomfortably hold the gun in the crook of my arm as I extend my hands forward, effortlessly calling upon my abilities as I shoot out pure energy from my hands.

The scarecrow goes flying what seems like 100 or more feet, landing harshly on its back. I want to celebrate and get all cocky but this was dealing with Norse Gods and I didn’t particularly feel like getting on their nerves at the moment.

I make it to the clearing, my chest heaving from the running and use of powers. Man, water would be good right now.

A familiar arm wraps around my shoulder, the crook of his arm touching my neck as he brings me into his side. His chest heaves too, “Good job.” The praise makes my heart swell but the sweet moment is cut off by the man in the couple panting, “What—what the hell was that?” He points between the orchard and me. Double yikes.

“Don’t ask.” Dean responds.

We sit in the Impala just outside of town so we wouldn’t technically get in trouble.

After helping the couple officially leave, thank god, we went back to the motel. It would be hours until the college opened so we really just had to wait. We ate at some all night diner before showering and sleeping for a couple more hours. We woke early, I threw on some low rise black jeans and a fitted black & gray long sleeve baseball tee, heading out to grab some coffee before heading back close to town to wait.

Dean had called Sam, placing his phone on speaker and positioning it in the middle of the dashboard so we could both hear and speak. He called his brother on his own accord to talk about the “hunt” and I didn’t dare say anything about it knowing he would just brush it off. The call was certainly more than just letting him know how the hunt was going. “The scarecrow climbed off its cross?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, I’m tellin’ ya. Burkittsville, Indiana. Fun Town.” Dean muses, taking a sip of coffee from his cup.

“It didn’t kill the couple, did it?” Sam responded concerned.

“God no” I scuff.

“We can cope without you, you know.” Dean adds.

“So, something must be animating it. A spirit.” Sam theorizes.

“No, it’s more than a spirit. It’s a god. A Pagan god, anyway.” Dean answers.

“What makes you say that?”

I answer this time, “There’s a lot that points to it, from annual cycle killings to the choice of victims. And I’m sure you know human sacrifices were common in Paganism especially when it comes to fertility. There were even mass sacrifices to even protect them and or help them with wars.”

I begin to speak with my hands again, getting more animated as I get excited, “And according to a local all the towns around them are failing in multiple degrees especially in agriculture, while Burkittsville remains flourishing largely in their apple department. As seen not only through their extensive orchard but their numerous apple products, they practically gloat upon it.”

“And you should see the locals. The way they treated this couple. Fattenin’ ‘em up like a Christmas turkey.” Dean adds in.

“The last meal. Given to sacrificial victims.” Sam acknowledges.

Dean answers, “Yeah, we’re thinking a ritual sacrifice to appease some Pagan god.”

“So, a god possesses the scarecrow…” Sam starts, Dean adding in with their usual weird finishing each other's sentences, “And the scarecrow takes its sacrifice. And for another year, the crops won’t wilt, and disease won’t spread.”

“Do you know which god you’re dealing with?” Sam asks.

“Well, there’s hundreds of Gods.” I answer, “But it will most likely align with Norse Paganism which are broken up into two sections one of them being Vanir Gods. From what I remember they’re Gods of fertility, wealth, wisdom and two other things. I don’t remember too much and unfortunately there’s an issue with the internet so I can’t even confirm my theory.”

Sam laughs, “What do you mean issue?”

“Long story,” Dean responds, “But we’re on our way to a local community college, they have a book on Norse Gods there. You know, since we don’t have our geek boy to figure out the issue with the internet crap.”

Sam laughs again, “You know, if you’re hinting you need my help, just ask.”

“I’m not hinting anything.” Dean replies quickly with a fake annoyance to his voice, “Actually, uh—“ He looks at me as if he isn’t sure what to say, I nod my head encouragingly, “I want you to know….I mean, don’t think….”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, too.” Sam says seriously, seemingly knowing what his brother was struggling to say.

Dean looks to his hands cradling his coffee cup to straight ahead through the windshield, “Sam. You were right. You gotta do your own thing. You gotta live your own life.” I don’t try to bite back my smile, he wasn’t looking to begin with, either way I was proud of him.

“Are you serious?” Sam asks, probably never expecting to hear that.

“You’ve always known what you want. And you go after it. You stand up to Dad. And you always have. Hell, I wish I—“ He cuts himself off, sighing, “anyway….I admire that about you. I’m proud of you, Sammy.”

“I don’t even know what to say.” Sam says quietly.

“Say you’ll take care of yourself.”

“I will.”

“Call me when you find Dad.”

“Ok.” Sam responds, though he sounds upset, "Bye, Dean.”

He collects his phone from the dashboard, hanging up. He catches me staring, “What?” I don’t answer, just smile at him, “No. Don’t give me that happy go lucky sweet look.”

“Oh come on!” I laugh, “That was really sweet of you Dean! So can’t a girl be proud of her boy.”

He rolls his eyes, placing his coffee in the cupholder before crossing his arms across his chest, but his face gives him away a light pink gracing his cheeks. “You are a sweetie pie” I declare, placing a hand on his shoulder. He removes one of his arms from their own hold, placing a warm hand on top of mine, grasping it gently to remove it, “I’m not.” he bites. His tough boy act was so cute.

“If you say so” I shrug, the smile on my face giving away the fact that this wasn’t me giving up on the fact he was a total softy. He turns his head away, facing his window, mumbling something incoherent.

I want to start skipping into the library, who knew a community college would have such a nice one. Though to be fair I would say any library was nice as long as it was in good shape. I make my way to the librarian's desk, “Hello!” I greet, my excitement getting the best of me, “Could you point us to the books on Paganism? Or even just Norse mythology?”

The old woman at the desk looks at me a little strangely, maybe I came off too strong. But her expression contorts into a small smile, “One of our dear old professors would have those sorts of books, lucky for you sweetie I think he’s free right now. I can just give him a little call.”

I look back at Dean, who stands a little bit behind me, he shrugs, I guess it wouldn’t hurt talking to a professor about this. Especially if it meant looking at that book.

I turn back to the old librarian, “Yes please.” But she already placed the phone back in its holder, “He’ll be right down.” Oh. Okay, this woman works fast. “You can take a seat there, it’ll be a moment” she points to just behind us at a mostly empty table. “Thank you!” I smile.

“It’s not every day I get a research question on Pagan ideology.” Professor Williams says, as he leads us to his classroom.

“Yeah, well, call it a hobby.” Dean responds, not sounding all that amused.

“Well what are you looking for in particular?” The older man asks.

“Uh, local lore, maybe” Dean answers, looking at me to jump in at any time but I don’t know if I want to put all my eggs in one basket. We had to choose who we could trust here, and maybe I shouldn’t have been so forward with the nice librarian but doing so made getting to the book easier. I hope. “I’m afraid Indiana isn’t really known for its Pagan worship.” He answers.

I can already feel this being a painfully slow lead to the answer, “You know, actually,” I began, “I was interested in the Vanir Gods. It struck me the other day and when I can’t get an easy answer for something I go digging.” The professor stops in his tracts, turning to face me, “Very well. I was not expecting to hear such a clear topic.”

I laugh a little uncomfortably, “I just like to learn.”

We follow him down the rest of the long hallway into his classroom. A small room with desks and chairs lined in order while a large whiteboard rested on the long wall. He beckons us over to his desk, a thick and long brown leather bound book lying there, “Well, let’s see.” He leafs through a couple of pages seeking what seems to be the chapter he’s looking for, “Ah ha, there we are” he declares, turning the book towards us.

I read the first page quickly, breezing through information I already knew. I turn to the next page only to be met with a picture of a scarecrow-like thing on a post in a field with farmers surrounding it. I read out loud the text just below the image, “The Vanir were Norse gods of protection and prosperity, keeping the local settlements safe from harm. Some villages built effigies of the Vanir in their fields. Other villages practiced human sacrifice. One male, and one female.”

I looked up from the book catching Dean's eyes, this was definitely it. “This particular Vanir that’s energy sprung from the sacred tree?” Dean asks, gaze flipping to the man in question.

“Well, Pagans believed all sorts of things were infused with magic.” He answers not all that helpfully.

“So what would happen if the sacred tree was torched? You think it’d kill the god?” Dean questions further. He’s really just putting it all out there. The professor laughs, “Son, these are just legends we’re discussing.”

“Yes of course” I fake laugh along with him, “My, uh, friend here just loves the hypotheticals, you know?”

“I do,” Dean nods seriously. The professor just looks at us strangely. God I really hope he just thinks we’re weird people. “Listen, thank you very much.” Dean says, holding out his hand. The professor takes it, giving what seems like a firm handshake before offering one to me, “Yes, thank you so much,” I say sincerely, taking his hand for a single awkward handshake.

I follow Dean to the door, an odd feeling settling itself in my gut as if something was about to happen. He opens the door and the feeling spikes, my heart jumping at the simple action. What the hell. I want to ignore it, push it to the back of mind and chalk it up to just random anxiety. But I can’t, genuine fear twists itself around within me, clawing at the walls of my stomach as if to warn me. Just as my foot breeches the hallway everything in me screams to turn around.

I listen to my body, turning around as I take a half step back, a large book only inches from my face. A small breathy squeak leaves my lips as I duck, a loud bang and tumble coming from beside me. This was a trap.

Using my bent knees as leverage as well as the attackers stumbling at missing me, I latch on to their forearms pushing up and out still holding on tightly as I lift my leg and kick. My foot connects with the soft expanse of the person's stomach, letting go of his arms at the same time. It was no doubt the professor as he was the only one in the room with us. I watch him stumble backwards, knocking into his desk roughly.

My brain works quickly, adrenaline rushing through my veins. The bang and tumble I heard must have been someone attacking Dea—I twisted my upper body to the right, catching the sheriff's wrist before the blunt of his gun could hit me too. I didn’t need to look to know he already got Dean. God this town was crooked.

I bring his arm down closer to my level, twisting it in an attempt to put it behind him, but he uses his free hand to left hook me, his fist connecting with my cheekbone. I let go of his arm at the action, my hand instinctively going to my cheek that stinged until something cold clinked onto my wrist. I knew it was handcuffs but my eyes went to my wrist anyways just as he clicked into place the other half of the cuff.

He looked smug, as if he had won. He must have been stupid. Not that it changed much but my hands were cuffed in front of me, magic aside it couldn’t have stopped me. I tilt my head slightly, giving him a ‘seriously?’ look before kicking him where the sun doesn't shine, immediately he doubles over holding onto his crotch with teary eyes. I guess you could add assaulting a police officer to my list of crimes, he may have been a sheriff but it probably still counted.

He would be down at least for a minute or more so I turned back to the professor who seemed to be stalking closer with the same book raised as if he was trying to kill a bug. The second my eyes landed on him he stopped moving, I foiled his plan. “Could you stop with the book?!” I exclaim. He seems to contemplate what I said, his eyes slipping from me to something behind me. He was not good at this fighting thing.

Thin but strong arms wrap around me, forcing my arms to my chest. I flailed around trying to shake the guy off, I didn’t want to use my magic yet. The less they knew the better. “Watch, she’s a kicker” the professor warns. “I know” the somewhat familiar voice of the sheriff huffed from behind me, his chest rumbling with each word. His chest was rising and falling fast, I wonder if he fully recovered from my crotch attack or if he was pushing through.

All at once I stop flailing, a smirk making its way on my face, and before anyone can do or say anything more I bite down hard on the sheriff's hand, my neck bending at a weird angle to reach him. He yells letting me go to hold his wounded limb.

I take a couple steps away from both of them, “I’m also a biter,” I muse. I look between both men, neither of them seeming to know what to do. They hadn’t expected this. “Which one of you wants to go next?” I point between either of them, the handcuffs rattling with my movement, “ ‘cause I can go all day, baby.”

They look at each other, worried in their eyes. The sheriff's throat bobbed with a hard auditable gulp. “Aw, don’t tell me you’re scared” I tease, smirking viciously, I was having too much fun with this.

The sheriff reaches slowly for his gun, the one he must have put back after I kicked him. I watch him do it, he’d pull it but wouldn’t shoot and ask me to stand down or come with him. He expects me to be afraid of the gun, at the prospect of being shot which is why he assumes it would work. He pulls it out, holding it firmly out in front of him aiming for my chest, “Get on your knees. Hands behind your head!” he yells. How predictable.

The smirk on my face only deepens, I lift an eyebrow at him, “If you wanted me on my knees so badly you could’ve just asked.” I was never usually so flirty or straightforward, but this was just so fun. I knew I was getting cocky. Maybe I was hanging around Dean too much. “Knees now!” He yells again. At this point he was just feeding me these easy openings. A laugh escapes my lips, I must look like a psychopath.

He readjusts the gun in his hand, his finger scooting back towards the trigger, but he couldn’t shoot, not when they wanted to use Dean and I as sacrifices. “Last chance!” He warns. Last chance indeed.

I catch my eyes flaring purple in his shiny revolver, a look of horror and confusion apparent on his face. A look I was used to, and as much as it normally would upset me I could use it now. The air fizzled around me, maybe I was getting better at this, in a blink of an eye I was right behind him. I kick the back of his knee, the man buckling under his own weight, his gun going off. The bullet hits the ceiling light right above where I stood only moments before.

Shards of glass fall, the light flickering for dominance before eventually going dark. I easily grasp the gun from his hand, turning the safety back on before sliding it across the floor out of the room. Without a plan to actually hurt the man, I used what he gave me, pressing the linked chains of the handcuffs to his neck as I brought the back of his head to my stomach.

He grunts against my hold his hands trying to pry the chain off as his eyes search the professors for help, but his partner backs away hands up in defense. I loosen up my hold, I wasn’t trying to severely hurt the guy or kill him for that matter. “‘Had enough?” I ask, mostly teasing.

Suddenly a soft plush material is pressed to my face, I move to fight or teleport away but my limbs suddenly feel too heavy and my eyes begin to droop. My body feels like it’s falling even as I stand in place, I think. My eyes begin to flutter close, my legs giving out on me. The world turns black.

My head feels fuzzy. My eyes are too heavy to open just yet. It smelt bad, a musty smell combined with a farm-like smell. The ground was comfortable.

I try to open my eyes but they flutter shut again. Someones calling my name, they’re too far away…need to come closer. My head was pounding.

Something suddenly brushes into my hair repeatedly. Even still half gone, fear spikes in me. My eyes shoot open, my upper body jolting up into a seated position. Familiar hands hold my shoulders as I sway, the room seeming to move back and forth, “It's okay, you’re okay” Dean says soothingly. I stare at him, his features becoming less and less blurry as I blink.

He cups my face gently, his fingers barely brushing against my skin. He seems to study me, most likely noting the bruise that is undoubtedly forming where I was hit. His thumb brushes over my wounded cheekbone gently, yet even so I wince sucking in a breath between my teeth. “Sorry” he mumbles, meeting my eyes. I hum, my tongue feeling too heavy to utter a word. “What happened to you?” he asks softly.

I swallow, trying to force my tongue to work enough to answer but my words still come out too quietly, “You went down first. I fought, but I think someone else came. They covered my mouth with a thingy, maybe they used, um, what is it called?” My thoughts felt all jumbled still, fog covering the expanse of my brain. My head was killing me too much to think straight. He practically scowls, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips turned down in a frown, “Chloroform” he answers. I smile weakly, “yeah that.”

I want to lay down. The room was still spinning, my head hurt. This was embarrassing, I had gotten all confident before– feeling invincible only to be drugged. I remove Dean's hands from my face, holding them instead as I place them on his lap. I looked around us, the room might be moving but it was obvious enough it was some sort of basement. No, a cellar. It was dark and empty, except for the straws of hay lying around. And just across from us was a small staircase up to what seemed like cellar doors. “It's locked,” Dean says, noticing my stare. Of course it is.

But if I could just right my mind, clear the fog, I could get us out easy peasy. Almost as if I willed it, the cellar doors creek open. The sunlight floods through, I try to block it with my hand, the sudden light worsening my headache if that was even possible. I need Advil. Dean lets go of my hand getting up quickly, just watching the quick movement makes me want to vomit. I blink slowly, following suit, with a lot of stumbling I make it to my feet even as it feels like the room is pulling me down.

Four jerks stand just outside the cellar, Harley and Stacy, Scotty, and the Sheriff. Harley moves close to the stairs as if he's about to descend them before getting abruptly stopped by the Sheriff, “I wouldn’t, she's feisty.” Dean laughs at that, my assault on the man very apparent by the various bruises he displayed. I would smirk or laugh too if it didn't feel like I was using all my energy to keep me standing. Harley knocks the Sheriff's hand off but makes no move to get closer, “She’s also still drugged” he bites. “Wrong,” I pointed a finger up, feeling more like a drunk as I spoke, “This would be the side effects or aftermath of Chloroform.” All four of them looked at me blankly, maybe I was wrong. I don't know.

“I hope you both know this is for the common good,” Stacy nods. I furrow my eyebrows, “Thanks for the preaching, lady. It really eases the brain into all this sacrificial nonsense.”

“That's enough” she replies rather calmly before nodding to the others. They begin to close the cellar doors, darkness enveloping us. I sat down rather quickly, landing on my butt harshly, “I'm surprised you didn't say anything snarky to them.”

“You were more entertaining” He answers with a half shrug. He tries the cellar door again but of course it's locked, he huffs moving to sit next to me.

I lean my head on his shoulder. He speaks softly now so as not to disturb my throbbing head, “Where do you think this important tree would be?” He was referring to the tree we would have to destroy in order to kill the scarecrow, and it was a good question. “Hm” I hum, “It would be the oldest tree here, probably the most protected. Maybe the first immigrants brought it over here, so it’s wherever they would plant it. I would say in the middle.” He nods and I swear I could hear the gears in his head turning.

The cellar doors open again, Stacy coming into view “It’s time.” I want to ask why they didn't just take us the first time they opened the doors but I guess waiting to die a little later was better than sooner. I remove my head from Dean's shoulder, do we fight? It would be 4 against 2 except I wasn't completely okay. But we could fight, right? I mean we always make it out, we always wind up fine.

Harley and the Sheriff come down the stairs, the Sheriff watches me carefully as he lifts Dean forcefully up. Harley doesn't show any remorse as he grips my forearm tightly, lifting me to my feet before grabbing my other arm roughly holding them behind my back. I struggle against him attempting to step hard on his foot as he forces me up the stairs behind Dean.

Real fear twirled itself around me, were we not going to fight?

They drag us forward deeper into the orchard, I dig my heels into the dirt trying to slow it down as much as I can. I’m scared. I don't want to die. I don't want to be sacrificed to some god. Please. Please. My headache needs to go away, let me use my powers without pain. I struggle against him more, trying to let my magic seep into anything around me but immediately my headache worsens by ten folds. I grunt in frustration, trying to shake the older man off further but he only tightens his grip. I hope bruises won't come from it, not that it would matter if I died today. I close my eyes tightly, digging my heels in further, please. Please. Anything, please.

Harley pushes me forward effortlessly. I don't want to die. Please. Please.

The ground begins to rumble, shaking violently. Apples tumble from the trees hitting the ground with a bunch of thumps. My heart beats wildly in my chest as if it's trying to jump out and run away. His grip loosens on me as he freezes in place, “It's angry at us!” Stacy yells covering her head. I wiggle out of Harleys hold, taking a couple steps away as my legs wobble like the ground. A familiar click locks into place, I come face to face with a gun, “It’s not causing this. It's her” the Sheriff accuses.

“Dont touch her” Dean yells, struggling against Scotty's hold. The Sheriff must have passed him on to hold me at gunpoint for the second time today. “I'm not doing anything” I spit, the shaking ground growing more intense.

“Your eyes are glowing again” he states. “What are you talking about?” I nearly yell, I think I would know if I was using my own abilities. Plus I've never done anything like this before so how would I be able to do so now?

Before I can react he has my hair wrapped in his fist, pulling my head back forcefully a hiss of pain escaping my lips. It felt like it was going to rip itself right from the roots. “Dont you fucking hurt her!” Dean roars. The ground seems to become more violent, the large trees themselves shaking where they stood while everyone nearly stumbles over. He pulls my hair hard, my neck snapping back as he moves his shiny gun in front of me, showing me its side.

My only slightly blurred reflection stares back at me. My cheekbone had a dark bruise painted there and my eyes were–

My irises were purple. No. It doesn't make sense, I wasn't controlling this. I wasn't making it happen, I've never done this before. The Sheriff pushes me forward letting go of my hair at the last minute, I fall to my knees only a foot away from him. The barrel of the gun is pressed into the back of my skull, “Make it stop or I'll make you stop” he threatens. I can hear Dean struggle against Scotty again, and in the corner of my eyes I see him finally pull away before turning around and punching the man right in the face. Scotty doubles over, but before Dean could do any more damage to anyone else Harvey grabs him.

“You can't kill her, we have to leave them both for it” Stacy argues. The ground seems to roar, the earth shaking so siverley I nearly fall to my hands. “I would stop if I could!” I admit, “I don't kno–” I cut myself off, a sudden deep memory making its way to the surface of my brain. A memory of a deceased corn field, a disaster I caused.

“Make it stop!” the sheriff spits. “I told you I don't know h–” Suddenly the gun is raised up and before I could do anything to stop it, the gun hits the side of my skull. My head feels like it explodes as I hit the ground, my eyes struggle to stay open. The last thing I see before it all goes dark again is Dean trying to lunge forward and the ground halting in its shaking.

My eyes flutter open, my horrible headache accompanied with an even worse head-ache. Both in my head and outside. At this point my brain should be a scrambled mess.

My wrists were zip tied to a thinner part of the tree trunk my back rested on. It was just beginning to be dark out. I move my gaze from above me to across me, Dean sitting against a different tree in the same position I was in. His eyes widen and he attempts to move closer before grunting in frustration at the restrictions of his wrists, “You're awake. Are you okay?” He licks his lips, “I swear to fuckin’ god I’ll kill ‘em.”

I don't say anything, my head is too heavy. He's staring at me with wide eyes, fear clear in his irises. “‘You okay?” he asks again. I nod, my head hurts and I’m confused and upset, but I’m alive so I’m okay. He shakes his head, “No.” I look at him confused, I don't understand. He continues to shake his head, wetting his lips again, “Say it. I need to hear you say it,” he sounded breathless, “I need to hear you say you're okay.”

“Im okay” I say weakly. He sighs, relief clear in the way his shoulders drop. But I had a feeling he knew I wasn't being totally truthful.

He swallows roughly, “Can you see the scarecrow?” Despite my heavy head I look in each direction for the thing, until I can slightly see the post. “Dean” I start and I can hear my own voice wobble with fear, “It's not there.” He fights against his restraints, and I would join him in that effort if my head hasn't already given up on me. “I hope their apple pie is frickin’ worth it” he grumbles.

A shadow catches just behind Dean, I squint hoping I'm just seeing things from potential brain damage then the actual scarecrow. “Dean, I think it's behind you.” Forget everything I said and thought, I begin fighting against my own restraints, the zip ties digging into my wrists harshly. “Dean?” a familiar voice called out.

Sam’s tall figure comes into view as he rounds the tree Dean is tied to. Dean twists his neck oddly to see his brother, “Oh!” he sighs in relief, “Oh, I take everything back I said. I'm so happy to see you. Come on.” Sam takes that as his chance to assess his brother's binding before pulling out his pocket knife, “‘You okay, Y/N?” he asks as he works on sawing the bindings. “Dandy” I respond, truly done with this all.

“How’d you get here?” Dean asks his brother.

“I, uh–I stole a car.”

Dean laughs at that, “That's my boy!” His bindings finally break with a snap. Sam doesn't wait for his brother to get up as he walks the short distance to me, beginning to remove my own restraints. His eyes gaze down at me every now and then, most likely assessing the damage.

Deans at my side a breath later, squatting down to be at my level. He brings his hand carefully to my face, gently moving a piece of my hair behind my ear. Something feels dried and stiff there and I wonder if it's blood from being hit or just dirt. I tilt and roll my head away from him, the pain overwhelming even with the delicate touch.

My restraints snap above me, bits of the plastic tangling itself into my hair. My wrists are raw and red, just one more thing to add to the list. I place my hands on the cold dirt, trying to pick myself up but my ears begin to ring and my vision spins. I sit back down again, huffing. Strong arms grab my arm and waist all but lifting me off the ground and onto my feet, “‘You got eyes on the scarecrow?” Dean asks, looking at his brother who shakes his head. “Alright, I can carry you, the clearing isn’t far off” Dean says looking down at me.

“That's ridiculous,” I shake my head, “I’ll slow you down. I’ll just push through, and we don't have time to argue this.” He grumbles, he doesn't like the idea. But again we don't know where the scarecrow is and we can't waste time bickering over stupid logistics.

I immediately regret not taking the offer. My brain feels like it's jumping around in my skull and swishing side to side as if on a boat. I feel like the orchard is spinning around me, tumbling over itself like one of those tunnels in a fun house.

“Alright, now, this sacred tree you’re talking about–” Sam pants lightly as we run, Dean having filled him in on the information we gathered. “It's the source of its power” I finish, my voice feeling far away even in my own ears. “So let’s find it and burn it.” Sam annonces.

“Nah, in the morning.” Dean counters, “Let’s just shag ass before Leather face catches up.”

We come to a skidding stop, just at a clearing of trees the four jerks from before as well as a couple others stand guard. Sam nudged us in a different direction just to be met with a wall of people, we were surrounded. “Did the whole fricking town come to watch us die?!” I exclaim, “Just let us leave!” I was so tired of this, I just want to go to a motel or something and shower off today's fears before falling into a deep sleep. “It’ll be over quickly” Harley says, and if it was meant to be comforting it was not working. “It's for the greater go–” suddenly a sickle is pushed through his stomach. His mouth opens in shock, blood dripping down the sides. Screams come from all around us, and I hardly know if I was screaming too.

He’s raised off the ground before the sickle is quickly pulled out. Stacy still stands there screaming, watching her dying husband on the floor. But soon her screams are cut off too, the sickle going through her throat. Her eyes are wide, her mouth hanging open too as blood not only spurts out of her neck but spills down like a waterfall onto her shirt. The air fills quickly with all the blood's metallic scent. The scarecrow does not retract its weapon, keeping the curved blade in her neck as it grabs onto Harley's collar dragging them both behind it.

Shock had frozen us in place, but apparently not the townspeople. “Come on let’s go,” Dean insists, leading us away.

Morning came by far too slowly but at least we passed the time by using the stolen car to drive back to the college to get the Impala before returning to the orchard. It all went by so weirdly, I knew I was moving but it felt like I never left that road outside the expanse of apple trees. I hardly remember the drive there or the drive back, everything still spun and the ringing only got louder. I think I might have lost my mind.

We stand in front of the sacred tree though I don't remember how we found it. The tree had Vince’s tattoo printed onto it, that was a tell tale sign it was the right one. Sam pours gasoline all over it, Dean picks up a long branch lighting it on fire before throwing it onto the tree. “‘Think the towns ‘gonna be okay?” Sam asks as the flaming tree roars with the crackling flames. “Don’t know” Dean shrugs, but I think the answer was apparent to all of us.

“And the rest of the townspeople, they’ll just get away with it?” Sam adds.

“Well, what’ll happen to the town will have to be punishment enough.” Dean answers.

We walk back to the car leaving the burning tree behind us, though I hope it won’t spread and cause a whole forest fire, “So, can I drop you off somewhere?” Dean asks.

“No, I think you’re stuck with me.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“I didn’t. I still wanna find Dad. And you’re still a pain in the ass.” Sam explains, “But, Jess and Mom—they’re both gone. Dad is God knows where. You, me, Y/N. We’re all that’s left. So, if we’re gonna see this through, we’re gonna do it together.”

I give Sam's arm a little squeeze, it was a really sweet speech.

“Hold me, Sam. That was beautiful.” Dean smiles, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder who hits it away. They fall into a fit of laughter, “You should be kissing my ass, you were dead meat, dude.” Sam says between laughs.

“Yeah, right. I had a plan, I’d have gotten us out.” Dean scuffs.

“Right.”

#supernatural #fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester #john winchester #slow burn #witch reader #witchcraft #dean winchester x witch reader #dean winchester x f!reader #the hunter and the witch #the hunter and the witch update #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female reader #angst #arguing

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imwithstupid7 · 3 months

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hii! can i request a fic with johnny cade x fem reader where theyve liked each other for years but haven’t confessed and act like a couple so the gang teases them for it and they do it until they finally become an official couple?

❦︎ I Like You, Do You Like Me?❦︎

Johnny Cade x Fem Reader

Ever since you were little kids, you and Johnny had been hand in hand before being friends with the gang. You two where each others first friends, had the first day of school together, first sleepover, first everything. But as you got older in elementary you guys became close with the greasers, and soon became one of them. Even though Johnny was in a greaser gang he still was the same boy you met when you were kids.

As you got older and got into middle school, that’s when people outside the gang started asking if you two were dating. Which was always awkward when asked because you’ve like Johnny since you’ve met him. Not just as a friend.

When you got into high school the dating allegations died off, except in the gang. Everyone would tease you guys, even Darry.

But recently Johnnys been acting really weird. Like more quiet, ands always with Ponyboy. At first you didn’t mind but now you’re scared he hates you or something.

“Am I annoying him? What’s the deal?” You finally ask Ponyboy. Pony looks confused and weirded out by your question.

“What do you mean? Johnny doesn’t hate you? You guys are best friends” Pony responds.

“Then why does he barely talk to me now, and only ever hangs out with you. It’s fine he hangs out with other people, but now he NEVER hangs out with me, did i do something wrong?”

“What no! It’s not that at all, im not aloud to tell you why..” pony looks anxious not being able to look for an excuse and having to tell the truth without actually saying anything.

“What?” You say but Pony’s walked away.

“Whatever!” You say walking back to your house.

After a few hours your laying in bed then hear clicks on your window. You walk over and it’s Johnny outside waving for you to come down.

You went down and immediately asked “so do you hate me?” Johnny looked shocked.

“what no!” He replayed.

“Then why do you keep ignoring me Johnny? And just spending all your time with Pony?”

“It’s because I’ve been working on something with him. It’s for you” he looks embarrassed and hands bouquet of hand picked flowers, and a long piece of paper. You take a closer look and it’s a love letter.

“I’ve loved you since the dawn of time, since the sunrise, since we met. I’ve been to scared to confess to you my feeling because im worried it would ruin our friendship, and I’d rather drown in my love for you then loose you. I love you so much Y/n, and im sorry if it’s selfish of me to tell you this but I can’t contain my love for you anymore, it feels like im going to explode. I love you but that doesn’t mean you have to love me back I just need you to know that.”

After reading Johnny’s letter there was a lot more of poetry, doodles, and more little notes. You’re tears started falling onto the paper and you grabbed onto Johnny, he held you tight as you sobbed into his chest.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything I didn’t mean to make you sad or anything” you cut him off with a kiss.

“I love you Johnny, I’ve loved you since we where kids don’t apologize”

The next day you made it official, and made the dating rumors true. The gang freaked out at first but now just teases you guys.

You two were soulmates waiting for the right moment.

#the outsiders #johnny cake #ralph macchio #johnny cade x fem reader #johnny cade fic #johnny x reader #johnny cade x reader #girlblogging

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storytree-hyw · 2 years

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I never would’ve thought that a man who made minecraft videos would connect to me and much as he did. Alex did you much for so many people and I’m happy he knew how much we all loved him. May the king take his final rest and may he be forever in peace, rest in immortal tranquility Alex, Technoblade.

If you’re reading the under the cut junk I honestly applaud you. This isn’t really here for any particular reason, it’s more here for me. If you’re not a big reader you’re allowed to leave, or heck—stick around, listen to my rambles about everything.

I remember when I found out, one of my friends sent the video and I remember watching it and, well I don’t want to say I didn’t take it well—honestly the most accurate description was that…I didn’t take it at all. In the moment I didn’t cry, I didn’t do anything except look at my phone and I remember just feeling shock. Some part of me wanted to believe it was a joke, a dream, that somehow it wasn’t real. I remember looking through the early stream on comments and seeing how people were reacting.

I knew it wasn’t a joke, or a dream. My brain just didn’t want to except it. I also found it odd how I wasn’t sad, or at least not crying. My eyes were dry, I wasn’t even shaking. I don’t think it really hit me yet.

Then later that night I was lying in bed and it finally hit me. It was when I was watching some compilations of Techno’s best moments and it finally hit me. It hit me like falling off a building—god it sucked. It finally clicked in my mind that this person, this man whose made so many people laugh, and smile, brought people together, lifted others up, was putting on a brave face after putting up a nearly year long fight to cancer—was gone.

He was gone. Gone forever, a whole person was gone from this earth and it took me that long to realize that. I don’t blame myself it’s a hard thing to grasp, whether old or young, an entire person just being gone from everything and not being able to continue on with their life hurts.

…

He died too young.

I was barely able to gather my thoughts through all the crying and sobbing I did that night. I was kind of a wreck today too, I just wanted to stay home. If I didn’t need groceries I would’ve stayed home haha..

After looking at others responses and all the overwhelming hope and comfort for everyone in the community I was finally able to find my anchor of comfort.

I found comfort in the fact that Alex is not hurting anymore from the physical pain and the fatigue that this most likely put him through. I found comfort in realizing that Alex is gone but he will live on forever through his impact, his memories, his friends, his family, and us; his community and fans. I found comfort in the fact that even if Alex isn’t here anymore we can still give our love to the community he built from the ground up and that this community has so much overwhelming support for one another. And lastly I found comfort in the fact that Alex had the absolutely audacity to create merch for his death, the actual craziness, hahaha man…Im gonna miss him.

The fact that he talked about it so casually too, this whole experience didn’t seem like big scary monster to him, he wasn’t scared. He was brave, and he was even joking about it, constantly—so much that he being worried made a lot of us less scared too. And I really appreciate that, he really cared for everyone he impacted.

We’re all going to miss him, so much, for so long. The grief from having someone of that emotional connection suddenly passing isn’t going to go away overnight, and that okay. We all deal with grief differently, but as long as we’re respectful of eachother and stick together we’ll be alright. Alex was an amazing individual, in the coming time that we all will be dealing with this I wish everyone in the community the best.

As long we keep these memories of him alive he’ll always be with us in some way and he will never fade away—besides I’d like to imagine he’d be pretty peeved off in heaven if any of us let that happen. We were so lucky to have him and he probably believes it was so astonishing that he had all of us. Rest well in the afterlife Alex, hope you have a nice view to watch all you’re loved ones.

Technoblade never dies

#technoblade #techno #alex technoblade #mcyt fanart #mcyt #DSMP #dsmp techno #rest in love #fuck cancer #technoblade never dies

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kingsephir · 1 month

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I'm so sick of being in Japan- I hate it here. I hate being the other, I hate how most Japanese people treat me and stare at me. How they're always like wow your japanese is so good! And I supposed to say "no no no"? NO! FUCK YOU. I say "yeah, i've been studying for 16 years now"

Today I got laughed at (in a awe isnt that cute sort of way not making fun of) when I said "otsukaresama", like the rest of my coworkers. Like I do, to this guy, every FUCKING DAY? And today you wanna be like, "oh her japanese is so good! look you're saying otsukaresama" LIKE IVE BEEN DOING IT FOR THREE YEARS DUMBASS. We've had full ass conversations in Japanese!!!!

And another thing! My male coworkers can barely talk to me!!!! Makes me fucking annoyed and lonely. Like they can't even speak japanese to me normally they have that weird ass no eye contact, like i'm accosting them sort of look and i'm like BRO. I JUST WANT TO KNOW WHAT PERIOD WE HAVE CLASS IM GONNA FREAK OUT RIGHT HERE AT MY DESK IF YOU DONT SPIT IT OUT. And the aforementioned "oh look you can say otsukaresama" guy cant even speak a whole sentance to me. And it's not an english thing bc he will just drop the end of the sentance in JAPANESE TOO. HOMIE THATS WHERE THE VERB IS IDK WHAT YOURE SAYING BC YOU DONT FUCKING FINISH YOUR SENTANCES *skreech*

I'm tired of my students being scared of me/suprised. Barely being able to talk bc what? they're afraid of mistakes or something idk? But they can't hardly spit things out sometimes- even in Japanese. They just like have an error code and stare blankly. Like homie. I just want you to say my COWORKERS NAME. SHES JAPANESE AND YOUVE STUDIED WITH HER FOR 5 YEARS NOW. AGHHHHH!!!!!!!

"oh you understand kanji that's amazing!" "yeah i took chinese too" and we've had this conversation MULTIPLE TIMES BEFORE. Do you just forget everything about me the second I leave your sight?? "Wow she knows to take off her shoes!" WELL DUH.

I'm just another human being!!!! Please treat me NORMAL!!! They literally CANT!!!!!!! Like maybe a quarter of them can but like ???????????????

I want OUT OF HERE!! I wanna LEAVE THIS GODFORSAKEN ISLAND. With it's earthquakes, lack of meat at the grocery store, suprise at every single thing I do, commenting on everything I do. Like leave me ALONE.

I so hope I can go to turkey this summer bc that's the only way i feel i can survive without freaking out. I was on my LAST STRAW today. I'm going to Turkey this winter then leaving Japan next year for the US. And trying to go back to school. I'm not cut out for teaching either. I don't like it, i've never liked it. I don't want to do it anymore or ever again in this capacity. Training is ok. Teaching? Kids? NO.

I do generally like the kids but I really wish they would just spit things out rather than just like blue screening. It's not scary it's okay. 😭 Our school is so chill and nice the english teachers are so nice to the students. We make sure they know it's ok to make mistakes idk.

Dude even in Turkey- even when they know i'm foreign- even when tbey are suprised I know turkish (mostly they just take it in stride- maybe a comment at the beginning then they go with it). They treat me like one of them immediately. They're so warm and friendly. Sometimes intimidatingly so but that's better than here (for me). Their country is so full of immigrants and tourists and tbh I only go to Istanbul or a small vacation town on the Mediterranean but like. Even in Tokyo I have problems (mind you way less than here but).

AGH. Rant over- I feel a bit better now.

#preytell #praytell #sephir-spiel

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omgjumin · 2 years

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Hi can I request a comfort fic with Jumin and an MC that was emotionally abused by her ex so occasionally her old fears get triggered even when she knows Jumin isn't her ex? I just got out of an abusive relationship myself and soft tender fics are like my warm blanket honestly. You don't have to do it if it's uncomfortable to write though!

talk to me - han jumin!

summary: jumin needs to let you know that he cares :((

tags: mentions of ex, emotional abuse, overthinking, hurt/comfort, gender neutral reader, petnames (love, baby), i think thats it

notes: first of all, im so proud of you for getting out of that relationship, i hope you are doing well and taking care of yourself, and second i hope this fic meets your expectations hshshs anyway here you go, love!

as soon as jumin got home, he went straight into his office. shooting a barely audible, 'im home' greeting before disappearing like he has been for the past week. as his father got older, it became apparent that he wanted to retire from the business world. although jumin was guaranteed to be the heir of the company, he always had the ambition to show that he was worth it. that he deserves the position he was about to be promoted to. jumin began to come home later and later, working until his body couldn't take it anymore. the strain on his muscles became overbearing yet he ignored it as if it would only go away when he got a good night's rest. you supported jumin nonetheless because he was working for the two of you. jumin is talented at what he does and no matter what he achieves, he deserves it. he works hard to get what he dreams of so you don't complain. though soon when you realize jumin has been ignoring his physical state and not giving himself breaks, is when you decide to step in.

"jumin? love?" you knocked on his office door before entering, your voice was hesitant, yet you knew jumin heard it. "yes? come in." you quietly entered the room, standing awkwardly near the door. "what is it?" jumin, who had not even lifted his eyes to meet yours, asked. "can we talk? i mean, i just want to-" jumin sighed as he rested his pen down on the desk. "im busy so please…" with the expression in jumin's eyes, you quickly cut him off. jumin wasn't perfect, neither were you. the two of you had gotten in fights before, yes, but it never escalated to anything. jumin would heavily sigh, a tell-tale sign that he was trying to calm down before anything had happened. but never had jumin ever laid eyes on you with such a harsh stern look. "im so sorry, just please don't yell at me." you quietly said before leaving the room. frightened, you quickly shuffled your way into the guest bedroom, locking yourself in the room.

as soon as the door was shut, you slipped down the door, cradling your knees in a tight hold. you never thought about your ex ever since you got into a relationship with jumin, but when jumin gave you those irritated eyes, they replicated the same expression. you never could have a serious normal conversation with your ex. they repeatedly invalidated your concerns, feelings, and thoughts, completely shutting you out of their life. though when trying to address these issues, it felt like they were rejecting and abandoning you to be alone. anytime you were around them, it felt as if you were walking on eggshells. having to feel like you are on edge as you live around them, overwhelmed you. it wasn't easy but you managed to safely leave the relationship and live somewhere else. and that's when you stumbled upon RFA. busy preparing the party as well as helping jumin open up, you never got the chance to talk to him about your own past. instead you ignored it, there was no point in acknowledging it, if you were happy with jumin now. however, after almost a year of being married, jumin had resembled your ex and it scared you. you trusted jumin, you knew he wasn't them. you knew jumin truly cared for you and your concerns but at the moment, you felt belittled and unheard. was it your fault that he was upset? you didn't know. maybe if you weren't useless and got a job, so you could help out. but jumin insisted that you stayed home and not work as he can take care of you. all the "what if's" scenarios filled your thoughts, you didn't even hear the door open.

"love? mc?" jumin turned on the light to the room, searching for you before placing his eyes on you. when jumin had caught eye of you, his heart dropped when he noticed your tear stained eyes. "baby, please look at me." jumin sat down in front of you, his dark hair ruffled, evidence of his stressed out mood. at first, jumin didn't pay any mind to what you said before leaving the room, but the more he thought about it, it didn't make any sense. jumin never yelled at you, let alone raised his voice, so why would you plead him to not do so? and for what felt like the first time in his life, he panicked. he ran his hands through his hair, on the verge of pulling his hair out, stressed because he was looking for you. as jumin left his office, calling out your name, you remained quiet. jumin was terrified that you had left the penthouse already, but as he checked if the bodyguards had seen you leave, they shook their heads. "no, they did not leave, mr. han.." soon enough, jumin looked in every room until he stumbled upon you.

jumin brushed fallen hairs behind your ear, as he hooked one hand under your chin to lift your face to meet his. "my love, what's wrong? please talk to me." the look he gave you was nothing short of concern. you felt your body melt into his comforting touch as he reached out to you. it wasn't easy but as you began to relay your fears to jumin, he listened. he didn't look like he was forced to listen but rather he wanted to listen to you. then you felt heard. you felt cared for. you felt validated. "i know just because i was in a sour mood, doesn't mean i should have looked at you with such irritated eyes, i am so sorry. i love you so dearly, i hope you know that i would never yell at you, ever. im sorry. are you okay, my love?" slowly you nodded your head as jumin took his thumb to wipe away your tears. as uncomfortable as the floor was, jumin brought you into his arms. holding you in his lap as he hugged you. "i love you so much and i care for you. so please, do not hesitate to talk to me when you are troubled okay? whether you want me to just listen or give you advice, ill gladly do so, okay? i love you." jumin cupped your face as he brought your lips closer to his. "i love you so much." he whispered as if it was only meant for him to hear. jumin placed his lips to yours, slowly moving them together. his hand wrapped around to rest at the nape of your neck as his other held your body close to his. the two of your breaths synced together as you kissed each other. though as jumin pulled away, breaking the kiss, only then they became irregular; trying to catch your breaths.

"what was it that you wanted to talk to me about earlier, love?" if jumin hadn't reminded you, you would have forgotten the whole point of you coming to speak to him. "i know you are busy, trying your best to work hard to fulfill what's expected of you, but you need to take a break, jumin. you already are the best head director there is, you deserve everything you achieve. so don't work your body past its limit just because you don't think you are good enough. it's okay to rest and take breaks, okay?" jumin, who wasn't expecting to get scolded, smiled as he nodded. "okay. thank you for saying so." jumin softly kissed you once more before leaning back so he could gaze into your eyes. "how about we take a trip, hm? i'll call off work for a week so me and you can rest together." smiling for the first time that night, you hummed. "okay, let's plan all that tomorrow, let's go to bed first shall we?" and for once that week, you went to sleep with jumin by your side.

#jumin x reader #jumin fluff #jumin x mc #jumin angst #han jumin #jumin han #jumin han fluff #jumin han angst #han jumin fluff #han jumin angst #mystic messenger jumin fluff #mystic messenger jumin angst #jumin headcanons #omgjumin

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deepfriedseagullfeet · 2 years

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my chase! lore under the cut:

33-37, cis male (he him), gay (important to his character development), 6’1”

ah yes, chase. the community’s favorite quote-unquote sad dad. the protagonist of the canon jacksepticeye ego lore. and here he is, last but not least on my list. chase is probably the most complex out of all my versions of the egos. theres…a lot to this guy. i wont talk too extensively about him, but still, hang in there with me yall. major tw’s for like, abuse, suicide, addiction, age regression and trauma responses

so lets start off with backstory. its very upsetting, lets just say that, and im just straight up gonna say his life before the egos fucking sucks. he had a miserable, abusive childhood, he dropped out of school and ran away to live with his sister who then died of a drug overdose, he met stacy in college and just when he thought he had stability in his life, all the stuff he went through seemed to come crashing down on him and he became an alcoholic, depressed disaster. stacy couldnt take care of him anymore as he got worse and worse, refusing to see anyone for his issues, which led to a messy divorce and chase’s 5th suicide attempt. which is where we leave off when chase is brought into the world by jack.

now when an ego is created, they dont automatically have all their memories, and barely know who they are. so it takes a few weeks to get acclimated and “remember” their past life, if they had one. chase, well, he kept getting hit with traumatic memory after memory, especially at night, waking up the other egos with his literally terrified sobbing. even as the memories of his hard life kept seeping in, he was going back to old habits, getting blackout drunk behind jackie and henrik’s backs, getting in bar fights that henrik had to bail him out of jail for. there were panic attacks and screaming at the other egos, and he did this thing where he hid under his bed for hours that jackie and henrik began to realize was involuntary age regression. chase didnt want to deal with being alive anymore, if im being honest. jack wanted nothing to do with him, and jackie was scared jack was going to get rid of him like he did marvin.

and thats where jackie really shines in chase’s story. he was, in his mind, a fuckup that nobody wanted, and he assumed jackie and henrik would give up on him like everyone else. but the thing is, they didnt. jackie, despite his own issues and his own frustrations, never gave up on chase. even when chase kept drinking, even when he screamed in jackie’s face that he hated him, jackie stayed with chase, loving on him even in his worst moments. and really, it sounds cheesey, but all chase needed was someone to love him unconditionally. someone who wouldn’t leave him like everyone else. someone who gave him actual support through his ptsd and his addiction.

and yeah, it took time, but chase put down the bottle and started getting himself back in order. he started going to therapy for his issues (we’ll discuss that in a moment) and actually started putting in effort to be better, because he didnt want to keep hurting henrik or jackie, because he loved them, really he did. he started up a twitch channel, which gave him something to do at first, but eventually gave him a source of income. and he got a dog. very important. chase got an emotional support golden retriever named sunshine. and that dog brings him so much joy every day, just having something to care for and something to get out of the house to go on walks with. he loves that dog a lot.

but with the eventual improvement in chases life theres something else. his therapist. was anti. remember how i mentioned anti was a psychiatrist? yeah that really comes into play here. now ok, in some ways, dr. angus jackson quote unquote helped him. he talked about his trauma, he learned to understand his age regression, he was able to really work through his issues. but that doesn’t mean anti was messing with his head, or getting information about the other egos because he wanted to, or even forcing chase to cry about his past or age regress for antis own amusement, which is obviously very fucked up. chase eventually saw past anti’s manipulation and was able to recognize who he was, which was a terrifying revelation. and after anti…he had a hard time trusting a new therapist.

so in general, chase doesn’t have a lot to offer for the “plot” if you want to call it that to be honest. but i think hes still important, especially to the other egos. he’s constantly battling his mental illness throughout the story, but he has lots of support. he and jackie are best friends, and he loves his dog and his job.

personality wise for chase, hes a big ole softy. he used to be super mean and nasty when he was first born, but he was able to let down his walls and let himself be soft around the other egos. hes real sweet and chill. he likes hugs and is a guy you can hang out with and talk to.

#jacksepticegos #chase brody #my art #ego lore #ego posting

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spindash · 2 years

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embarrassing but i jusst need to talk ok.......... under the cut because iknow itll be long um im talking abot cancer and animal death and dog like. i dont knw. attacks. & other kindof awful things so no pressure to even look or read anything. loveyou forevr

My uncle isnt going to make it the next two years even with the two surgeries and chemo the brain tumor is too much and he just got the news the beginning of this month that hes not going to make it. we all kindof knew that woukd be the case even w his last surgery but nobody knew it would be so soon. hes literally like my best friend he has been ever since i was little and he means the world to me. he got diagnosed august of last year and its been like a fucking nightmare ever since. And on top of that i lost agnes like less than a fucking week aftwr i got the news about my uncle its literally been crushing and its hard for me to want to do anything at all and nobody even wants to TALK about it im just supposed to deal alone and my dad will not stop pressuring me to finish getting my degree and get a job and i know i should and i want to but its impossible to do anytbing at all im so exhausted like physically i can barely stay awake and i just feel so isolated. And then we've been taking care of my uncles dog for the last year obviously since he cant and shes never liked me too much but she tolerates me because Im a sucker and i love giving her little treats like peanut butter and any nibbles of what im eating aslong as its safe bht i dont know whats happened in the last few weeks she has completely flipped the switch and i genuinely cannot leave my room anymore without her baring her teeth at me and growling and lunging for me. shes gotten me really bad a couple times thats what that bruise was from and i have some nasty gashes and scars on my feet and legs like ive never bled that much it soaked thru my sock and all over the floor she completely scares the shit out of me i cant even be near her without bawling my eyes out anymore. my parents are like yeah yeah well we'll talk to your uncle soon about getting her some training but not now and dont mention it because youll upset him. Like i think hes going to be more upset that his dog is trying to fucking kill me or something than you asking if he would pay for her to go. somebwere i dont know anywhere. i dont want anything to happen to her like putting her down shes not a bad dog atall she just had such a hard time with different owners as a puppy. it makes me feel awful to say but i wish to fucking god she was anywhere but here not just cuz she scares me but Im scared for the cats too. shes surprisingly aloof towards them but i dont know. i thought she was fine with me too and now. Sprry this is all crazy personal and like batshit to post online if you read all of this um. sorry do you still like me etc i dont have any joke to wrap it up with literally every good thing in my life is crumbling around me and i cant do anything about it nor do i have to tools to deal with it emotionally and i want to blow my head off 👍

#op #tldr nightmares forever 👍#theres alot more but whwtever. most of wats on my mind #Dont worry about though ok. i just needed to get it off my chest as like humiliating as it is to be sad online. i shant do anything

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enderwalk · 2 years

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#god there’s just. im glad im figuring things out im glad i think i have a grasp on what’s going on with my brain #but then there’s. worse nightmares flashbacks i can’t sleep tonight and there’s just #i cant tell my best friend. i cant tell him. i don’t know how I would or if he would believe me #we barely talk anymore as is but im so scared he’s going to cut me off entirely #but I want to tell him. he knows everything we’ve known each other since we were twelve #but how am I just supposed to tell him something like. oh yeah im plural. yeah you accidentally talked to an alter earlier #even though he knows that alter knows he’s not supposed to talk to irls .#idk im just. awake thinking about this. i want to tell him but I know I shouldn’t #i just can never tell my irl friends or family or anyone. it’s just another secret to keep #god I just want to cry I thought things would get easier now. it’s not. i have more of a grasp but I can’t even dig too deep into things #or I get Really fucking sick and someone else fronts #im just. idk. i almost wish i didn’t find out but then id be more confused and miserable like I was for years

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bokutosworld · 3 years

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convenience store stranger | suna rintarou

pairing: suna x f!reader word count, genre: 2.1k words, college au. fluff. another meet cute story lol. warning: none summary: in which your late shifts become less boring and more interesting when a cute stranger stumbles in at 2 AM. a/n: my first time writing for suna god im scared but i really liked how this turned out!!

The first time he meets you happens on one of his late night convenience store runs. It was exams season and Suna’s been pulling all-nighter after all-nighter. To say he was exhausted would’ve been an understatement.

He’s barely making it through on the third night and if he didn’t take a break soon, he was sure he’d have passed out on his desk. With his mind hazy from reading too many words and trying to understand a semester’s worth of lessons in one night, he decides to stand up and get some fresh air.

Which is how he found himself currently standing at aisle four of the only convenience store that was still open near his apartment. He scans the rack for something that can wake him and his brain up. He doesn’t know how long he’s been standing but he could definitely feel eyes burning holes in the back of his head.

He settles on a pack of jelly sticks and a cup of spicy instant noodles and heads towards the counter. You mutter a greeting when he reaches the cashier and begin scanning his items.

When he hands over the cash for payment, your fingers brush with his cold ones, making you recoil harshly as if he was repulsing.

“Something wrong?” He laughs when he sees your reaction. “I know I look like a mess now but I won’t bite you.” He bends his knees slightly, tilting his head to get a look at your embarrassed face.

“No, I’m sorry.” You avoid his intense gaze, continuing to pack his purchase. When you look at him, he’s still staring with his piercing eyes that it almost takes your breath away.

Shaking your head to bring yourself to reality, you give him his items. “Your hands felt cold and I was just shocked.” You feel that same electricity sparking between you again when he takes the bag from you. “I.. well.. thank you. Have a great evening.”

“It’s 2 AM,” Suna chuckles and you sigh before correcting yourself and bowing to him in goodbye. “See you around,” he shouts over his back as he walks out the door. It was the first time he saw you in that store and he was sure it wasn’t going to be the last.

The second time he’d actually planned it according to your shift. If his past trips to the store were anything to go by, he’d learned that you always took the evening shift. It was something he discovered after being called out by your co-worker on the third time that he restlessly looked around the store during a visit.

He should be on his bed, phone in his hand as he mindlessly scrolled until he fell asleep. But with the memory of his interaction with you lingering on his mind, he wanted to see you.

“Hey, got time for a customer?” He greets the moment he steps inside the empty convenience store. You look up from the book that you were reading and quickly stand to welcome him. “What are you reading?”

Hiding the book from his view, you retort, “Aren’t you going to buy something?”

He grins, taking in your tired disposition and the bags that had formed under your eyes before retreating to the shelves. When he returns, he slides over a can of energy drink, iced coffee, and a large bag of chips.

You assume he’d leave immediately once he’s paid for everything. You certainly didn’t expect him to take out the coffee and give it to you.

“This is for you.” He opens his own drink and leans by the counter. “Doesn’t it ever get boring here? I mean it’s midnight and you’re alone. I’m betting not many people even drop by at this time.” He faces the door, crossing his arms around his chest and staring at both of your reflections at the glass.

Worn out from your classes in the day, you take his coffee offering, instantly feeling the rush of caffeine flow through your veins and waking you up. “The job pays relatively well. Besides I can’t really work in the mornings, I have uni.”

“So you’re a college student too.” He turns around and extends a hand out to you. “I’m Suna Rintarou.”

You introduce yourself as you shake hands with him. And as soon as pleasantries were exchanged, he immediately launched into a story about how his earlier day went. He was a natural conversationalist and despite this being your first time talking with him, you didn’t feel an ounce of awkwardness. You didn’t know what it was about him but his presence made you feel comfortable.

You learned about what he was studying (to your surprise, Psychology), how he spends his weekends playing volleyball (he was a middle blocker and an excellent one at that, he boasted), and how he ended up here during the night he first saw you (the all-nighter went well and he passed all his exams).

He rips open the chips he bought and offers you some as you lay your story before him. He munches as he listened to you rant about how you loathed your course (Business Management) and the many case studies and papers you had to do each day. He nods his head in understanding as you explain why you needed this part-time job (to pay for apartment fees).

You were having so much fun in his company that you didn’t notice the time pass by. (He arrived to the store at 12:32 AM. The clock on the wall now reads 2:32 AM). And for the duration of his stay, you were surprised that no one ever came by. He only ever left your side when a taxi driver walked in.

Suna steered clear from the counter and kept his distance as you did your job. From your peripheral, you could see that he watched you like a hawk from the side and it made you somehow conscious. When the customer exited, you playfully threw a tissue at him,

“I couldn’t concentrate when you were standing there and looking at me like that!”

He went back to his position but this time, he leaned close with his hands on the counter. “Like what?"

Well how could you say to him that you thought he looked effortlessly hot in his sweatshirt and track pants? And was that an adorably messy bedhead? How could you say that you liked the teasing smile that he’d been giving you throughout the night?

You chuckle and shake your head, “Nothing.” You reach for the book you were reading prior his arrival and took your seat. “Don’t you have classes tomorrow? You should go back.”

“Do you not want me around anymore?”

“It’s not that, I…”

He cuts you off, “Good, then it’s settled. I’m not going anywhere. I like talking with you too much to go back home. Let me entertain you some more.” He sits down at the chair on one of the tables near the counter and then goes back to chatting with you.

Since that night, Suna had been scheduling more trips to the convenience store. Sometimes, he’d really only visit to bother you. At times, he’d bring his books and laptop with him so he could work on a paper while you restocked the shelves and cleaned around. On rare occasions, he’d help you out on a business plan and the customers who’d enter the store would be amused at the sight of you and him huddled behind the counter with your serious thinking faces on.

He’d become a part of your life that it felt unnerving not to have him around on your shifts. And it certainly showed on your face how disappointed and heartbroken you were when consecutive nights passed without his visits. Your co-worker even called you out on it.

“So where’s the cutie been?” She asked one time when the two of you were at the back lounge while you logged in for your shift. You groan at the nickname she gave him and she laughs at you.

“How would I know?”

“Don’t you guys talk almost every day and night?”

“Only on nights that he visits me.” You pause, thinking about the possibilities why he could’ve stopped coming. And before you knew it, you were ranting. “God, are we even friends? I don’t know his number. Did he ghost me? Is this considered ghosting? It’s been a week. I’m scared I did or said something.”

She’s watching you pace around the room. “Maybe he got bored of me. Or maybe he realized I’m not really worth his time and dipped. Sleeping is much better than hanging out with me at 1 AM anyway.”

You’re stopped in your tracks when she suddenly grabs your shoulders. “Overthinking is not a good look on you.” She makes you take deep breaths to calm down. “I’m sure he’s just busy right now. He’ll visit again soon.”

“I don’t know why I’m being like this.”

The look she gives you is incredulous, her mouth gaping wide at your statement. “Are you serious?”

“What?” You ask, not anticipating the next words that would come from her.

“It’s obvious that you like him.”

The next time you see him was on campus. You don’t know how long it’s been since he last spent time with you on your shift. (Though if you were counting, you were definitely sure that it’s been two weeks and three days since then.)

You tried not to think too much about what his absence could mean but the pang in your heart never left. Those two weeks that he didn’t show up allowed you some time to think about your conversation with your friend. You like him.

Back then, you were too quick to shut down the idea. Denying any ounce of feeling for the boy as you saw him as no more than someone who had too much time on his hands to bother you on your shifts. A good friend is what you specifically used to defend your relationship with him.

So then why was it that your heart was beating so rapidly as Suna waved at you from across the cafeteria? Why couldn’t you stop smiling as you watched him make his way to your table and sit down beside you?

“Hey there.” He slings his arms around and pulls you for a side hug. “Long time no see.”

You almost couldn’t hear him over the loud thumping of your heart in your ears. He’s still smiling and waiting for you to reply. “Yeah, been a while. I’ve gotten the peace and quiet back in my shifts.”

He breaks out in laughter while opening a snack bar. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to stop by. I just came out from a major presentation that I’ve been preparing for during the past weeks. And guess what?”

You perk your eyebrows at his question. “What?”

“Our group did great.” He raises a hand for a high-five and you indulge him. “The teacher liked our slides and our analysis of the topic. Ah, I feel so good right now!” He leans back with his hands behind his head, but he suddenly jerks.

“We should go out!” Suna grabs your hands and looks at you expectantly. “You’re free the whole day tomorrow right? You’re not working the shift? Let’s celebrate. It’s my treat!”

Feeling overwhelmed by his invitation and his overall excitedness, you laugh and pull back. “Calm down, Suna. I don’t know about tomorrow.”

“Why? Are you busy?”

“Not really but..”

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem.” He tucks a loose hair behind your ear, leaning close with his voice barely over a whisper, “It’s perfect. I’ve wanted to take you on a date for a long time now.”

“What?” You stare at him wide-eyed.

“Come on, you’ve never thought about us?” He finds the situation entertaining. Your flustered reaction reminds him of the night that he met you.

“Why do you think I’ve been coming to the convenience store when I could be sleeping at that time? I like being around you. My day doesn’t feel complete if I don’t at least see you or tell you about my day or listen to you rant about the latest episode of your favorite series.”

You like him.

“Go out with me.” He kisses the back of your hand. “Please?”

The corners of your lips unconsciously curves up and Suna sends your heart doing somersaults when he says something about how he’s finally got to see the beautiful smile he’s been wanting to see for weeks.

Your friend was right. You do like him.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #suna x reader #suna imagines #haikyuucafe #haikyuucreations #suna fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fics #suna x y/n #suna x you #haikyuu x you #suna rintaro x reader #hq suna #suna rintaro #haikyuu!!

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fruitcoops · 3 years

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I absolutely love your fics!!! Thank you for sharing your talent with the world. If you're interested, do you think you could write a fic where Finn gets injured in a game against Tampa? O'Hara brothers ftw ♥️♥️♥️

Ohohohoho yes. It's 'missing your big brother so you write siblings' hours, and all of you are trapped in here with me. Combined with prompts for cubs hurt comfort/ poly love (@hi-im-phoenix) and distraction hurt/ comfort for AJ. Sorry about your manager <3 SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for bone inJuries

The crowd was roaring. Finn couldn’t catch his breath. His arm was on fire.

Something like a sob broke free in his chest, but he could do little more than hiccup in pain and fear from his place laying flat on his back atop the unforgiving ice. He couldn’t move his fingers. His elbow throbbed. Everything in between just hurt.

“—fuck is wrong with you?” an angry voice shouted, followed by a flash of blue and white shoving at the man whose late hit had left him suspended in shock. Finn didn’t know if it had been on purpose, but he didn’t really care anymore as a tear tracked down to his ear. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the bright lights overhead.

A hand cradled one side of his jaw, warm and clammy on his cold skin. “Talk to me, mon amour, what’s wrong?”

“Lo,” he croaked, swallowing hard. “I’m okay. ‘m okay, promise. I’m okay.”

“Out of my way!” The blue and white blob pushed closer before kneeling next to him. A helmet hit the ice, followed by a glove; heavy hands settled on his shoulders, and the one on his face disappeared. “Finn? Finn, look at me.”

Finn’s chest hitched once, twice, hard. His head was pounding, and everything hurt. He may have been able to reassure Logan, but he had never been able to hide from his brother. “Alex.”

“Hey, buddy,” he soothed as Finn finally regained enough breath to gasp around his tears. “No, no, shhh. You’re gonna be just fine, yeah? Can you tell me what happened?”

“Hurts,” he choked out, squeezing his eyes shut. The pain had reached his shoulder and every movement was agony. “It hurts, it hurts—Alex, it hurts.”

“What hurts?”

He could hear people calling for medics. His friends, his family. But Alex stayed right there next to him, holding his good hand and brushing his tears away. “My arm,” Finn said, feeling as pathetic as he ever had. “Alex, it hurts so bad.”

“Can you wiggle your fingers for me?” Finn sobbed again as he shook his head and saw the encouraging smile slide of Alex’s face. “That’s alright, buddy, just take some deep breaths.”

“I don’t wanna be out,” Finn blubbered. “I gotta play.”

Alex gave his hand a light squeeze. “It’s not that bad, Fish. Deep breaths.”

He managed a handful—and admittedly felt a little better—but the alarms in his head were still blaring when Remus arrived with the medic, all but carrying him across the ice to get to Finn. He had a smudge of a bruise beneath his eye, but the worry creasing his brow overtook anything else. “I’m good, Loops,” Finn panted as the medic sat next to him. “Totally cool.”

“28, I’m going to need you to make some room,” the medic ordered. Fear spiked in Finn’s heart when he met Alex’s gaze, but he found only determination looking back.

“I’m not leaving,” Alex said simply.

The medic glanced down. “Can you stand?”

“I think so?” Finn said hesitantly, trying to get cool air back into his lungs. “It’s—I think I broke my arm. Everything else is okay.”

“What’s your pain level?”

“Eight. And a half,” he added. Alex frowned.

“Let’s get you off this ice, yeah?” The medic patted him gently on the shoulder. “O’Hara, can you get him up?”

“Keep that one close,” Alex murmured, sliding his arm under Finn’s shoulders. He clenched his teeth around a cry of pain as his bad arm was jostled, but Alex was strong and steady, and within a few seconds he was on his feet. “Easy does it, bud. I’ve got you.”

“Fucking shit,” Finn wheezed as he tried to close his hand. The fear and adrenaline had faded, but involuntary tears sprang to his eyes anyway. Alex held him upright without faltering despite his wobbly legs; they made it to the bench in a blur of movement that made Finn dizzy.

“We can take him from here,” the medic said to Alex.

“I’ll be fine,” Finn said, cutting him off just as he opened his mouth. “Go play. Your boys need you.”

Alex pressed his lips together in obvious frustration, but tapped their helmets together and skated back to his own bench. Finn let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes for a moment. “O’Hara?”

“I’m good,” he assured the medic.

“If you feel like you need to throw up, let me know.”

“No. No, I’m good. Just hurts.”

He caught a glimpse of the clock as they headed down the tunnel—ten minutes left in the period. Finn steeled himself for a long stretch of being alone in a medical room and tried to focus on something over than the unbearable heat and throbbing in his arm.

--------------

Leo traced the edge of the splint with a deep-set frown, but said nothing. His other thumb ran in gentle lines up and down Finn’s waist, kept there by Logan’s side pressing close. “You’re sure you’re alright?” Logan asked softly as he placed a kiss on the corner of Finn’s mouth.

“I promise.” They had barely traded ten words—both had shown up the second the game ended, stripping off their pads and skates in the entrance to the medical room before sandwiching Finn between them. Leo had been unusually quiet. They had won the game; from what Finn saw on the television in the corner of the room, Alex had reamed out the guy that hit Finn with a vengeance. Tampa had been disjointed, and the Lions swept in as a cohesive pack, out for blood.

“I was worried about you,” Leo said at last, resting his temple on Finn’s shoulder. He sighed, then shifted impossibly closer. “Couldn’t get through the crowd.”

“I thought Talker and Loops were gonna kill that guy after he hit you,” Logan said with a shake of his head. “Looks like Alex did it for him.”

“What, you didn’t get into your shining armor for me?” Finn teased, nuzzling his nose against Logan’s cheek to draw even a slight smile from him.

“Maybe next time.”

“No,” Leo mumbled, linking his fingers with Finn’s purple ones and lifting them to his lips for a brief kiss. It was a clean break, but would still take weeks to heal. Big blue eyes landed on him, melting his heart like they always did. “No ‘next times’, okay?”

“Aw, Knutty,” Finn said, barely above a whisper. He wrapped one arm around each of them and held them tight, soaking in the feeling of having both crushed against him. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

Logan tucked his face into Finn’s neck. “Nothing to be sorry for, mon rouge. We’re just glad you’re alright.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” a voice said from the door. Alex shifted his weight back and forth, twisting his baseball cap in his hands like he always did when he was nervous. Finn didn’t hesitate before extracting himself from the cuddle pile and crossing the room; Alex met him halfway and engulfed him in a hug. A shudder ran through him under Finn’s palms. “Jesus, Finn, you scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” Finn mumbled into his hoodie, letting himself be cocooned by distilled safety. Even out of his skates, Alex had a good two inches on him, and he had always been the broader of the two—Finn suddenly felt about six years old, as if he had just skinned his knee on the sidewalk.

“What’s the diagnosis?”

“Closed break, clean fracture. I’ll be out for a month or two.” He stepped back and swiped a hand under his nose, then tilted his head toward Leo and Logan with a wry smile. “But I’ve got these two to look after me.”

Alex scanned his face for a moment; his mouth dipped on one side. “I called mom and dad, told ‘em you’re okay. You should tell them yourself, though. They were freaking out.”

“I will,” Finn promised.

The worry creasing his brow didn’t diminish as he wrapped Finn in his arms again, holding him tight. “Keep me updated, yeah? If I don’t hear from you, I’ll get the captain on your ass, and he won’t be as nice about it as I will.”

“Deal.”

“Knutty, Lo, drive safe. If he tries to pull some stupid shit, I’m counting on your survival skills to stop it.”

“Survival skills?” Leo half-laughed.

Alex pulled away and raised his eyebrows. “They don’t call me Hurricane O’Hara for nothing.”

His eyes flickered back to Finn, who was horrified to see slight redness around the rims despite the teasing in his voice. “Alex,” he said softly. “I’m okay, I swear.”

“I know.” His voice was gruff, but it poorly hid a sniffle as he bumped their foreheads together. “But I’m your brother. It’s my job to worry about you. I hate that one of my guys was at fault here.”

Finn tried for a smile, socking him on the arm. “Six weeks, and I’ll be good as new.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” With a final survey of his face and a kiss to the top of his head, Alex headed back out into the hall with his shoulders up near his ears. Finn sighed; he hated it when Alex was upset, and even more when there was nothing he could do to fix it except wait. He didn’t know what he’d do if one of his teammates broke his brother.

“Fish?” Leo was smiling when he turned around. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“What kind?”

“The kind where I pull out all the sob story pity points on Cap’s soft heart and get us babysitting privileges for his incredibly fluffy dog after three months of constant begging.”

Finn’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

“Make sure you look extra sad when we leave,” Logan advised. “We can’t lose this opportunity because you were too perky about a broken arm.”

“Quick, someone make me cry.”

Leo’s grin turned to horror. “What?”

“No!” Logan said at the same time.

“You guys are killing me here,” Finn groaned. “Just, like, hit me in the arm or something.”

“No!” they shouted in unison.

“You said I need to look sad!”

“I meant pout and sigh!” Logan pulled him over by the hem of his shirt in clear distress. “You’ve already cried too much tonight. No more.”

“Alright,” Finn agreed, already wracking his brain for any smidgen of drama skills he might have acquired over the years. Younger siblings were always the best actors, of course—he had given some Oscar-worthy performances to his mom when Alex got on his nerves as a kid—but Sirius was tough to fool. Maybe if he stayed quiet and didn’t risk opening his mouth they would get away with it.

Leo let out a slow exhale against his chest and snuggled closer before standing. “Come on, darlin,” he said with a kiss to Finn’s forehead. “Let’s get you settled. We’ll take a shower, have some dinner, and then we can put a movie on.”

“Mighty Ducks?” Finn asked hopefully.

Logan rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

#finn ohara #logan tremblay #alex ohara #leo knut #oknutzy #cubs #hurt/comfort #sweater weather #vaincre #my fic #fanfic #brothers #broken bones

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petite-ely · 3 years

Text

Afraid // JJ Maybank

Seven- Mommy Issues

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem routledge! reader

Warnings: mommy issues, mother abandonment, anger, maybe some mistakes, tell me if I missed anything

Description: y/n has always wanted answers about her mother, but the truth seems more harsh than what she had in mind.

A/n : hello, hello friends. Sorry for not updating sooner. I had absolutely no inspiration, lol. Anyways, hope you enjoyyyy! :) (also I know the gif is terrible quality but I really wanted to put this clip and I couldn’t find any cleaner option to make a gif)

Previously

Afraid Masterlist

Song recommendation

Gif made by me!

As a child, y/n never realized how her family was different than the others. A lot of kids on the cut had single parents, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Her mom had left when she was only three, to go pursue her dream job in Colorado. It wasn’t a bad thing in the girl’s eyes. It didn’t feel like she was missing out on anything.

As she blossomed into adolescence, y/n finally understood how unconventional her family was. She heard the other girls at her school talk about their mothers. About the cakes they made or the precious moments they spent together. Mother-daughter bonding moments. She had to admit it she felt jealous. Or maybe was it envious?

She had lived all her life without a mother to kiss her scraped knees or braid her hair before going to sleep. And she would have given anything to experience it, even for one single night.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love her brother or her father, far from it, she adored them. They were both so precious to her. Still, she felt as if something was missing from her. Or more like someone.

She didn’t remember her mother, she was so young at the time, but she cherished the stories her father had told her. She fed her imagination on these stories. Making up fake memories where her mother was still there. In her heart it was all real. Reality was bitter compared to the sweet comfort of her imagination.

By the time she was 12, she’d heard the famous story enough to know it by heart, each word of the letter engraved into her head. She begged her father again and again. She wanted more stories, even the smallest anecdotes, she wanted to hear them all. Anything to improve the sketch, constantly redrawn, of the woman she didn’t remember. The woman she couldn’t really call a mother.

She knew the story by heart and yet it felt incomplete. She’d heard enough fairytales and read enough books to know when a story was complete. This one wasn’t.

And she was right.

A week after the twins’s 13th birthday, their dad gathered them around the kitchen table. He wanted to talk. It was very important. Y/n had to admit, this was quite strange, as her father was never the one to bring up important issues. In front of him was placed an envelope, yellowed with the years.

The girl knew this envelope all too well. Every scratch, every little bump, she could almost feel them on the tip of her fingers. It was her mother’s letter. This time, when he pulled out the folded pages, a third paper came out. The missing part.

Big John didn’t say anything, only slid the pearl white sheet to the twins. And though no words came out of his mouth, a million could be seen in his gaze. He wore an unfamiliar expression on his face. It was mix of sadness, fear and regrets. It was the expression of a man who only wanted to protect his children from being hurt.

The missing paper read as so:

“This is my dream, John.

And I know you might think there’s a way for us to fix this, but there isn’t. This time you can’t fix it.

When I got pregnant with the kids, I was so scared. And when I told you, I saw this glimmer in your eyes. This flame suddenly being lit inside of you. You were so excited to have your first child and it was twins! You seemed so happy. It was beautiful.

Then I thought that maybe we could do this, maybe I could be a mother. I had you, so everything would be fine. My friends kept talking about this amazing connection that felt with their babies when they were carrying them. But I never felt it with the twins.

And I thought that maybe once I held them in my arms I would finally feel it. That motherly connection. It never came. And I tried, John. I tried so hard. But I just can’t.

I do love them, I love them so much, but not the way you do. Not the way a parent loves their child It can’t do it, I’m sorry. I wasn’t meant to be a mother. Life is cruel that way sometimes.

If there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that you were meant for this. I can see it in the way you look at them. You can do this, John. I know.

Be the parent I will never be able to be.”

Y/n’s curious eyes scanned the paper excitedly. Her face showed a variety of emotions in the span of a few minutes. First, excitement and joy, then, confusion and finally, anger. The tip of her ears burned red, her hand shaking beneath the table.

John B. placed the paper on the table, a loud sigh escaping his lips. Though, compared to his sister, he seemed relatively calm.

Y/n couldn’t contain it anymore. She stormed out of the house, her feet shoeless and her shoulders bare. She had no idea where she was going, but she ran.

It didn’t matter. As long as she was going somewhere. As long as she was moving and running, then she wouldn’t have to think. And if she was thinking, then her mind would take her to a bad place. She didn’t want to go there. So she ran.

The Routledges were never reputed to be angry people, much less violent. They were generally very calm, maybe a bit arrogant, but always composed. Of course, when a Routledge was after something, they would do anything in order to obtain it.

But y/n was one of the exception. She was the first Routledge woman in nearly 150 years. For generations, every Routledge man had sons, who had sons, who had sons until her father. He had a son and a daughter.

She wasn’t an angry person or mean in any way. On the contrary, she was kind and gentle. But compared to her brother and her dad, she felt emotions deeply.

And maybe it was her mother’s side and not the Routledge in her. It was so intense, sometimes. Almost blinding, at some moments. It was like the emotions took over her. It didn’t happen very often but it felt like she didn’t control her body anymore.

When she finally came back to her senses, y/n was standing on an empty beach. She hadn’t realized how far she’d gotten until she felt the warm sand under her feet. A cold breeze wrapped itself around her shoulders. She was so far from home. And so alone.

She walked to the ocean, letting her toes dip gently into the water. The water was cold but calming. Her anger slowly disappeared with each breath she took, until finally she could see everything clearly again.

Y/n turned away. She thought of going back home, when a wave of emotions hit her. She fell to the ground. It was like the air had been sucked out of her lungs.

Her chest burned, she felt like she had swallowed fire. Her shoulders shook and loud sobs escaped her lips. She dug her hands into the sand, trying to ground herself. It didn’t stop her tears from crashing onto her shirt.

A shadow appeared in front of her and she recognized its shape in a matter of seconds. It could only be one person.

“Are you hear to laugh at me?” She said through tears.

“No, not this time,” said John B. He sat down beside her, his eyes looking into hers. “Oh, y/n.” He wiped the tears off of her face

“I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “It’s just that, that,” he placed his arm around her shoulder, she took a deep breath. “Part of me always thought that she would come back.”

“That she’d come stay with us and finally be our mom. But she’s never coming back, ever,” her tone was almost accusing. “I lost so much time making up scenarios for her and she doesn’t even love us.”

“You know that’s not true,” reasoned John.

“Yeah, but it feels like it.”

“We don’t need her anyway,” stated the boy. “We’ve got dad, surfing, plenty of fish and well, each other. It’s not that bad is it?”

“No, you’re right.” She looked at him. “I just feel like I’m missing out on something. Like I’m,” she paused, looking for the right word, “incomplete.”

“I get it. If the roles were reversed and dad wasn’t there, I guess I would feel that way too,” confided her brother. “But don’t give her this much power. She doesn’t get to make you feel this way. You’re whole on your own, y/n/n.”

“Thank you, bird.” She slid her arm around his shoulder, letting her head rest on top of it. “You know, you can be an amazing brother sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“Hey, bird?” “Yeah?”

“How did you find me, anyway?”

“You always come here when you wanna be dramatic.”

“I do not!”

“You so do!”

And slowly, the imaginary memories fell apart and disappeared. Y/n didn’t need them anymore. She’d be better in the real world.

Taglist

@kaelyn-lobrutto24 @poguestyle17 @im-a-stranger-thing @lasnaro @thoughtsofthestars @briandaflores19 @lunaposey @allycat449-blog @ifilwtmfc @kitty084 @coloradogirl07 @ponyboys-sunsets @chaoticbisous @p0gue420 @sloaneemily @babygal-babygal @itsagurl @mendesmaybank

If you wanna be added or removed or if I forgot you, tell me and it’ll be modified!

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kashimos-hajime · 3 years

Text

no regrets (8/8) | r.b.

summary: For the first time, he thinks of a future he could have, and someone who loves him, and there’s something bright in his heart. Or, Reiner finally understands what peace is.

WARNINGS: MANGA SPOILERS!!! angst, mentions of violence, we get our happy ending :) pairing: reiner braun x fem!reader word count: 6.7k

a/n: welcome to the last chapter!! thank you so much for being on this journey with me. there are a few callbacks to previous chapters so see if you can catch ‘em all heheh

masterlist

crossposted on ao3 x

Few months ago ymir asked if I could let her write one last letter to krista, and I did let her. I stood over her shoulder the whole time, watching her pen down all this sappy shit and I kept thinking about you the whole time, behind those walls. What you were doing, what you were thinking. Maybe if you thought about me. I dont know.

I’m starting to see the appeal of wrting what youre not strong enough to say to a persons face. I never thought Id find myself on the other end of this stick. for some reason, I thought that I could stop myself, resist the temptation, or maybe that I didnt feel for you as strong as I thought I did once I was away from you. I was wrong.

What do I even say? I mean shit, I can barely see, my limbs are barely in tact, and all of it—shiganshina, it haunts me, even though I cant really remember it that well. Half of it goes black and then I remember hearing your voice, I remember Bertholdt, I remember you screaming.

You couldve walked away. why didnt you walk away? It doesn’t make sens. Why did you think to cut me out? Why did you try to save me? Im trying to make it make sense inmy head. It’s not working.

Fuck I dont know what I was thinking when I asked for a paper and pen. Why am I asking you questions? Its not like ill ever understand. At this point, I think it’s pity thats letting Zeke let me waste ink on trying to write straight. He doesn’t know what im doing, but thats better this way. Better than sleeping—better than eating. I just wanna talk to you and this is as close as I can get. Its my own damn fault, but I dont care.

I completed my mission. After this, im done. ill give up the rest of my term. I dont want any of that glory anymore. I dont want to be a hero. Im just done.

Fuck, my head hurts so much. I dont really know if what im saying is making sense. Im hoping you never read this.

im sorry. I wish I could explain it to you some day, but chances are, ill be dead soon. Whether for treason or because they need to pass on the Titan, and I wont be able to see you again. Which means youll never know how sorry I am. How much I

Thats okay. I dont think youd believe me now even if I did say anything.

I remember your dream to live by the lake with a bunch of kids. You know I started to wonder if youd mind if they were our kids, not just some orphans who needed a home. I’d imagine one of them with blond hair. Imagine them swimming in the lake.

Never told you that was my dream too. Never knew i could have a dream of my own, something only I wanted and not just something to further marleys damn agenda, til I knew you. Sounds stupid but its true.

I think youd like Marley, if we weren’t sworn enemies. Just want you here with me right now. make me sleep easier knowing you’re there when I wake up.

Dont want secrets either. Fuck I miss you so bad. I feel s o tired all the time.

I rember when i first saw you all could think about was how you were the most prettiest girl id ever seen. I don know if you know thats why I tried to distance myself. Knew I couldn’t get distracted from my mison. happened anyway. Wish I could tell you that.

wish I could tell you I love you. Wish I could see the look on yur face when you try lobster for the first time. Youd love it. Not sweet, but tons of desserts here too.

Shit. And the ring on your finger. ill put a ring on your finger. I promised. i swear ill go home and buy a ring for the moment I see you again. Might not be pretty but will do the best I can.

Olnly wnat only wnat only want to see you again and beg for your forgiveness. Let you know if I had a choice, I wouldnt have done it. Would take it all back, nd stay. i wanted to stay, stay with you and the others. I used to want to spend the rest of my life in those walls, now I think im sick and tired of them dividing people who arent even that differnet.

My eyes are beginning to burn. Worse because the skin is sitll growing back. Fucking hell god I miss you. miss your smile more.

I know i dont deserve your forigvneess forgiveness. I want you to be angry with me. I deserve as much, and I cant ask you to, but

With love,

Rienr

You fold the letter, eyes closing as your fingers trace where the ink bled, the old tear stains wrinkling the paper beyond measure. Some are older than others, and you trace over his name again, your eyes burning, your throat tight enough to suffocate.

You’re leaning against the wall as everyone disembarks. They had taken Eren off first, Hange and the others getting ready to depart for the city while Connie and Jean lift a covered stretcher too white for the vivacious girl that lays dead beneath it.

They pass you silently, and you catch sight of a certain captain approaching, his pale eyes nearly swallowed by the shadows haunting his face.

“Captain,” you say, straightening. Placing the letter back into the tin, you slide it back into your pocket as he folds a green jacket over his shoulder. You give him a nod.

“You made it out alive,” Levi observes. He stops beside you, eyes more focused on what’s ahead. No doubt he’s not looking forward to having to take Zeke to wherever he needs to go—somewhere far, far away from Eren. You cross your arms.

“It’s good to see you, too, Levi,” you intone. Sighing, you step in beside him and look out at the Walls you can’t see in the distance, your entire body wrought with a strange fatigue that’s only sewn into muscles by adrenaline leaving the body. “I think I’m going to stay.” He tilts his head to you, eyes flickering to your face, and you mirror the shift, your arms tightening. “I can’t leave this unfinished. Not after Liberio.”

“The farm will have to be abandoned,” he points out. “The kids, too.”

“I’ll make sure I move them where someone can take care of them. Somewhere north, far away from the brothers,” you assure, although still, your heart begins to sink and you close your eyes, exhaling deeply. “I have to hope they understand.”

Levi only nods, and you open your eyes as he wordlessly takes the jacket off his arm and offers it to you. Grasping it wearily, you open your mouth to ask questions but he only sets off, back towards the cabin where Zeke is still being held, and you snap your jaws shut, looking down at the jacket.

When you unfold it, you swallow the hard rock in your throat at the blue and white slipping beween the folds of olive green before there’s a sharp whistle. Looking up, you see the carriages already beginning to load up, and you glance back at the door where the captain has disappeared through before jogging down the ramp.

You slither your arms through the sleeves and shuffle the fabric along your frame as something thumps against your thigh, and you frown, reaching down into your pocket and coming into contact with something smooth and hard.

Withdrawing, your lips part at the green bolo tie gleaming in the lights of the port and you, without another thought, pull it over your head, letting it fall against your breastbone.

“For your services to the Survey Corps.”

There’s no time to second-guess now. No time to debate.

“Good to have you back,” Hange murmurs as you walk towards the carriage taking Mikasa, Armin, and the others back to the city. You tug the lapels of the jacket tighter around yourself and flash them a weak smile.

The Wings of Freedom on your arm feel like a brand, and it prickles your skin as you climb in after them.

Distantly, he remembers flashes.

Eren reaching forward for Zeke, the exhaustion ripping him every which way, the sound of ODM gear whizzing in his ears as he tries to make sense of the punctured sensation in his armour.

How he had softened his nape, intending to die then. At least, let his death have some meaning, he had thought. Let him make one last effort to repent for everything he did to Paradis, and to his friends who’d been more family than his own mother.

He slips in an out of consciousness for the next few days. He doesn’t know what is up, what is down, but he does recognize his surroundings blearily, the way his head spinning somehow slowing when he presses his temple to the wooden floor.

How can he almost hear your voice in the echoes of the panels, countered by someone who almost sounds like Annie before he drifts off again.

When Reiner finally regains consciousness again, he wakes to someone crouched down in front of him. Jerking up, he lets out a sound before a palm slaps over his mouth and your face is shoved against his own.

“Shut it,” you whisper fiercely. “It’s just me.”

Your name muffled by your own hand, his eyes begin to burn and you lift your palm away as he sits up and you draw back. You’re dressed in clothes that look like they’ve seen better days but you’re relatively uninjured as you pull back. New lines adorn your face—one of the many prices of their damned war—and you only look exhausted.

Sitting up, Reiner’s whole body groans as he leans against the wall, but he can’t tear his eyes away from you. Your hands are hovering around his body like you’re scared he’ll collapse and there’s a fracture in your mask.

Something gleams on your finger and his eyes flit to it, his heart lurching when he realizes what it is.

The ring. You’re wearing it. You…

For a moment, a glimmer of their teenage selves shine through and he wants to reach for it—touch it so he can remember what it’s like to be happy. He thinks it’s an awful like now; the swelling of his heart so big he can’t breathe; the way his lungs are static in his chest; how he can’t say anything because there are so many words that want to come out first.

“You’re here. You’re alive,” he finally settles on raspily. Your eyes glint with a youthful pain as you nod.

“So are you.”

And he doesn’t know who moves first—you or him. Nothing is forgiven as their bodies crash in an embrace that lacks grace, but they cling onto another like the world is ending and they’re the only ones left standing.

Maybe they are.

He buries his face in your neck, and your arms are so tight around him your fingers dig into his shoulders as your body melts against his and his skeleton sags in his own body.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your skin, eyes fluttering shut. “I‘m sorry.” A hand against your neck and an arm around your waist, he wraps his legs around your own and traps you against him. You seem to only sink into him even more.

Is that enough? I don’t want you to hate me.

You suck in a breath, and then it comes out shuddering. “You can spend the rest of what life you have left repenting for making me fall in love with a man who was always supposed to die.”

Softly, in his mind, your voice cools the searing heat of hatred inside him. It’s enough. It has to be.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. It’s like they’re the only words he knows. He can’t remember ever meaning it this much. For him dying, for making you love him, for ever coming to Paradis. For loving you. For loving you. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know. I know.” Your face turns to press against his own. Your lips brush against his jaw and his eyes slide shut, tears rolling down his face. “I read every single one of your letters.” Drawing back, you cup his face in his hands and your fingers smear his tears all over his cheeks as his palm rests against your neck. Thumb stretching up to touch your chin, he feels sobs shuddering in his throat at seeing you again—looking at him almost like you used to. “I can’t begin to understand, but I know you are. And I know you love me.”

Choking, he gasps, “You should hate me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I should.” You’re crying, too, voice thick, tears stubborn on your cheeks as you give him a watery smile. “I should hate Marley, too. But it’s beautiful there. The water by the sea… I want to be there with you next time. We need to go together, before you leave me alone, okay?”

Reiner doesn’t quite hear you. He hears Marley, and beautiful, and he’s never noticed how beautiful you are when you cry, but right now, it’s the simplest truth he knows.

“Okay.”

When you tilt his chin up and kiss him softly, something inside him explodes from the gentleness that makes him want to crack in the palm of your hands. It sears him from the inside out, makes him grab onto you like you’ll disappear—this is another dream, isn’t it?

It has to be.

You can’t be kissing him again after four years. He doesn’t deserve it. You’re an illusion, something his mind made up to deal with the pain. He’s finally cracked for good, just like Bertholdt said he would, and he’s the devil, not you.

But then you pull away just for a moment to smile, eyes barely open as you look at him with a sad tenderness that wraps him in an invisible embrace, and he is faced with the heart-wrenching reality.

The sky is falling, you are holding him tightly again, and they’ve lost their years. But you’re here. With him.

He knows that this isn’t a dream as he feels the coolness of the silver band on your finger and the heaviness in how he knows he hasn’t repented a damn thing.

Why him?

As you run your hand through his hair, you press their foreheads together.

“And I do want a family with you, by the water if you’d like,” you murmur fleetingly against his mouth and his eyes widen, cheeks burning, entire face crumbling as he turns his face in to your shoulder, crushing you in another brace. Sobbing into your neck, his fingers dig into your shoulders, wrap tight around your waist, squeeze you so close he isn’t sure where you end and he begins and your lips brush the shell of his ear. “Reiner, say it.”

“Please,” he whispers thickly into your skin, and you cradle the back of his head with a hand. He’s nothing more than shambles. “Please, don’t go.”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight again,” you promise. His breath is hot against his own face as you pull his head back and cradle his face again, thumbs brushing away the tears from his red face. “Just a bit more. A bit more and then it’ll be all over, you know?”

And he understands, then, what you want from him. Struggling for breath, for his lungs to stop seizing in his aching chest, he cups your face that turns into his palm on instinct, your face wet with your own tears as, for a moment, they try to pretend this isn’t where they really are.

Like they’re still in that afternoon in Trost, a thousand years ago, with the kids flipping coins into the water fountain and a cream bun between them. Like they’re under the tree, apple juice on your wrist and his lips on yours.

Like it’s those trips to the city, the walks on the Walls. Honey is dripping down your chin and he’s pretending he doesn’t want to kiss you, or there’s grease smeared on his forehead, and you’re reaching up to wipe it off his skin.

Like a thousand moments all at once, and he nods to himself as you brush your hand over his temple. The world outside is startlingly quiet, as if the universe itself stopped everything itself to watch this moment, and Reiner takes a breath that bruises his sternum before he’s holding your left hand where that ring still sits.

And slowly, he pulls it off, whispering as firmly as he can. He’s sure he fails—he’s shaking all over from your presence alone.

“When this is over, I’ll put that ring back on your finger. I promise.”

The smile that splits your face is dazzling. It’s the smile he’s missed since the day he left it.

“We have a lot of things to work out, Reiner Braun.”

And your fingers barely brush his jaw before you’re leaning to press a sweet kiss against his mouth. It’s sugary on his tongue, like honey and apple slices.

Your back is warmer when you’re pressed up against Reiner’s. The ship is quiet, and their pinkies are just barely hooked on oen another’s as you stare blankly at the empty space between Connie’s boots. You don’t speak, and Reiner’s gaze is only on you. He can’t look at anything else now that you’re back by his side again.

There’s a cut on your cheek from the fight just half an hour ago, and there’s dried blood along your hands where your knuckles had split open, but everyone seems too exhausted to clean themselves up.

Reiner himself has a blanket pulled over his shoulders, and he sighs, slouching in his own sack of flesh.

Your head tilts towards him, enough that your temple presses against his cheek. His eyes close and he leans into your touch. Not a word passes by, but their hold on each other’s hands tightens. And Reiner thinks.

For the first time, he thinks of a future he could have, and someone who loves him, and there’s something bright in his heart. Something that hasn’t burned since he left Marley as a child.

Reiner thinks he doesn’t want to die anymore. He doesn’t want to miss you for another moment.

Raising from the steam, you groan, your hands searing from the inside out as you touch your face where you swore every inch of your skin had been stretched, but nothing seems out of sorts as you glance around. Everywhere, all your friends who had turned just as you had are in various states of disoriented. The air is still hissing, crackled with surprised screams and shouts of names as people look for one another across the field.

It smells like cooked meat and burnt hair, a none-to-pleasant mixture that turns your stomach.

Getting to your feet, you wipe at your face, trying to ignore the weird feeling underneath your nails and the ache seizing your muscles. Trying to ignore the remnants of Eren lingering like a ghost that won’t really leave you alone. You shiver, and a strange cold sweat takes over your body.

He had taken you to the sea, except it wasn’t the shore you were familiar with. There was a cabin nearby, with blonde children running, chasing after one another and a man with golden hair standing on the porch, firewood in his arms as he calls out silently. Or maybe you had been standing too far to hear.

“Eren… where are we?”

“Wherever you think you are,” he had said. “I just brought you where you wanted to be.”

A voice, quiet as a memory, catches your attention. “Here let me help.” A soft wind blows throw the mist, cooling your scorching face as you feel a presence stand behind you.

“Oh, thank you.” You look over your shoulder to see a tall boy, and your heart stops. Mouth dropping open, you stare at his foggy image, but he only smiles fully, a smile so tender it reaches every corner of you as you stumble forward, fingers stretching for him. “Bertholdt!”

His smile grows only that much more, eyes squinting a bit and a flash of teeth before he’s looking at your hand that passes through his chest. All at once, all the hope built up in your chest crumbles, and your hand snaps back, trembling just before him. He lays a hand over your own and your eyes begin to burn, tears slipping down your cheeks.

And then, softly, you barely whisper, “I miss you.”

Bertholdt’s smile merely grows, as if to say everything he couldn’t say before. As if to show he’s at peace now—that your last memory together isn’t every part of him, and your lips press together, trying to stop yourself from shaking.

Shadows form in the fog, and together, the two look as a freckled boy and another girl steps out of the mist a distance away, beaming like the sun. Connie and Jean stagger to their feet just behind you, and your heart lurches into your throat when you recognize them.

“Marco! Sasha!”

Someone calls your name and you turn around just as arms scoop you up and you let out a surprised noise before settling into Reiner’s arms. Looking over your shoulder to look at Bertholdt, your heart only sinks.

He smiles and Reiner lets out a sharp breath beside you, settling you down. “Bertholdt…” More shapes emerge. A shorter boy accompanied by another taller one, both alike in their features. You recognize one as the Jaw Titan holder before Falco, but the other—

“Marcel!” Reiner chokes out the name, hand stretching out to the fog, but the boy merely tilts his head and waves.

Closing your eyes, hot tears streak over your cooling flesh as you fling your arms around Reiner again and press your face into his neck. He cradles the back of your head, and he feels… somehow weaker, but still, there is that impassable strength in his core that wraps around you as he watches over your shoulder, still clinging on despite your clothes hot enough to burn.

I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive. It’s the only thought in your head. Your last clear memory had truly been the others taking flight, and the pain that had ripped apart your body before sewing it back together again in unjust proportions. Your limbs had been too big, your blood racing too warmly through your head as your legs pumped but your brain screamed to stop.

Your fingers had sank into Reiner’s legs to pull him down and you had watched—watched Jean take a bite out of him—

You shiver and Reiner’s arms tighten around you instinctively, constricting enough to let you know that his attention isn’t on you quite yet.

Boots shifting on the ground tentatively, your knees feel gummy as you draw back long enough to look at him. He still looks over your shoulder, and you follow his gaze to watch the mist retreat. Bertholdt and the other two boys fall into a pool of fog, and your lips part in a farewell, but it’s already too late.

He’s gone.

A wind sweeps through the battlefield, tickling your sweating neck and cooling your boiling blood.

“Hey,” a soft voice croaks.

Their eyes meet in tandem. He regards you softly, like you are the reason the sun rises and the stars hang at the sky. Overwhelmed, you can only cup the back of his neck and pull him into a deep kiss. Your other hand along his jaw, it takes all you can not to pull him into a bone-crushing embrace that’ll send them both to the ground.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you whisper hushedly against his mouth, throat swelling as he lets out a soft noise of surprise as you pull him into another tight hug. You don’t care that you’re crushing him, just that his heart is pounding against your own chest. “I couldn’t stop myself. I’m so sorry.”

His eyes widening, he wraps his hands around your wrists and pulling you back just enough to kiss your fingers that crumple against his mouth. Clasping one of his hands in both of your own, you close your eyes and he uses his free fingers to brush the tears off your cheek before reaching into some dented tin you don’t recognize.

Eyebrows furrowing, you feel the heat leave your entire body, sapping your energy too, and your eyes snap to Reiner who steps back, cracking it open and presenting it to you.

“You’re not the one who has to be sorry. I don’t think I’m the Armoured Titan anymore,” he whispers. “I don’t know if I get the rest of my life back, but either way, I want to spend the rest of it repenting to you in any way I can, if you’ll allow me to.” A weak smile. “Truth.”

Your throat closes up, and you stare down at the ring so protected, gleaming despite the destruction around them. It looks almost out of place amongst the grime smearing your skin, the sweat drenching their skin, the smell of blood and metal clinging to their clothes, but Reiner only watches you with a tenderness you can barely meet. It’s so overtly overflowing with devotion that your heart is resting on your tongue, seizing control of everything.

You barely nod, chewing on your lip, trying not to cry even harder as his eyebrows rise in relief and he lets out a long sigh.

He lifts the ring out of the tin, snapping it closed before sliding the band back home onto your finger and all at once, everything floods you. The exhaustion, the pain, the hunger, thirst, grief wrapping around your bones and chaining you to the ground.

It’s over.

The minute he put the ring on your finger, it would mean it was over. No more blood, no more fighting.

Just like he promised.

You barely croak out his name before you fall to your knees. You trust him to catch you, and he does.

[THREE YEARS LATER]

Just after the Rumbling had stopped, you had gone back to Paradis alone and came back with three children to a man who was still uncertain in a world that was changing.

Since then, you’ve learned so much about the world, about yourself, about Reiner.

How he’s seized by night terrors even now, just like you, and how one thing that soothes it is going out for a walk while the sun still simmers below the horizon, the sky a dark navy blue spliced with orange rays. The intricate details like him making a point to tie his own tie because his father never taught him how or the way he has to chug his coffee so he has enough energy to get through the day.

And some days are horrible, haunting, but now, it is far outweighed by the good. He teaches Xav how to dress smart, takes the girls out shopping. Sometimes, he’s spotted around Liberio with a flame-haired boy riding his shoulders, you trailing behind hiding a smile behind some ice-cream.

Different nations, foods, cultures surround you now—citizens of countries coming to settle down roots, spread cuisine to Marley. The idea before, of humans so different than you but still similar at the root of it all, existing, still blows your mind. The technologies that you had never seen before, languages you’d never heard, sights you’d never seen, had all swarmed you as you stepped into a new world with him.

But there is always one thing you’ll come back to.

Leaning against the railing in the port city Reiner told you was the harbour he had left twelve years ago, and returned to seven years ago, you watch the clouds travel in slow drags across the pale blue canvas hung high above your head. The water spans for as far as you can see, glimmering under the sun and gorgeous enough to take your breath away. You pull at your coat across your chest absently, ignoring the tender growl of your stomach.

Breathing in the salty wind, you feel your chest expand at the litle fishing boats a little ways out.

Reiner was right. You don’t get sick of the sea. You never will—not of this much water. You still remember the first time you had swam in it, the salt-water making your hair crisp, the cold sweat forming on your your sun-warmed skin.

You feel a hand on your shoulder. Looking up, you spot blonde hair and warm eyes and smile. Your heart flutters a bit. You shift on your feet.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Reiner leans down beside you, and you clasp your hands, letting the sea wind curl against your neck. Reaching to slip his hand in between yours, he sighs and you lean against his shoulder, glancing at their pile of interlaced fingers. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” you whisper, although even still, you can feel a numbing at your fingertips. You remember what it was like to be a Titan, even now. The sensations haunt you—flashes of your own mutated body, the grotesque meat of your hands sinking into the ankles of the man beside you, the bloodcurdling roar spilling out of your throat.

Glancing at their fingers, you watch the flashes of silver of the rings play in the sunlight, your band now having a matching counterpart on his own hand. You grasp his hands tightly, bringing them up to your lips and his own grip tightens when you dust a kiss gently along his scarred knuckles.

“No,” you finally say at length. “I’m not okay. Going back to Paradis makes me nervous as hell, but we’ll manage.” He nods slowly, and you let go of his hands to wrap your arms around his neck. His own encircle your waist, pulling you flush against him and your eyes close at the familiar warmth—a warmth you’ve woken up next to most days for the past three years.

“Have you eaten yet?” he murmurs, and your fingers play with the soft edges teasing at your pads as his nose presses against your cheek. Your eyes flutter at the soft heat emanating from his skin, and you shake your head, melting against him. With one arm still around you, he slants his body away from just enough to pull a bag out of his pocket and it crinkles as he hands it to you. Taking it, you frown and look inside.

A cream bun. You can’t help the crumbling in your expression and Reiner holds your face in his hands carefully, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Let’s stay positive,” he whispers. “We don’t know the situation until we get there and Historia briefs us.”

“I know,” you whisper and his entire expression eases at your words. His eyes gaze at you as if you’re the sole centre of his universe, and he cups your jaw more insistently, pulling you in for a gentle kiss, one you ease into, your eyes fluttering shut as his tongue traces the seam of your mouth. Laughing, you feel his little nose scrunch and your heart bounds up into your throat as he pulls back only to kiss you again, softer this time.

“Get a room!” A sharp female voice ruins their moment and you pull back just enough to see a red-headed boy running towards them and Reiner crouches down just in time to scoop Xavier up.

“When are you getting married?” he demands. “I was promised cake when you guys got married.”

“I dunno. When you move out of the house I guess,” you tease and Xavier pouts, rubbing at the side of his nose with the heel of his palm.

“Besides, you got cake for your seventh birthday, buddy,” Reiner groans as the boy twists in his arms. “You’re getting heavy. What are you feeding him?” he adds, smiling roguishly at you and you roll your eyes as Alina and Anya approach, sun hats protecting them from the glaring sun. Alina, grocery bags in hand, waves. Anya, who’d been the one to shout, tucks her coin purse back into her bag before flashing you a great big smile.

Only fifteen and seventeen. You can barely recall what it’s like being that young anymore, but you’re grateful they didn’t spend it the way you did. They get to know beauty, and no limits at all. The former comes naturally, the latter is partially because Reiner spoils them rotten.

Alina picks a flower with velvety purple petals from a bouquet she cradles in her arm, extending it to you.

“For good luck,” she says. “And protection.” Your heart melts at her words and you pause for a moment, looking from the gorgeous bloom to Reiner, occupied with the boy in his arms making silly faces at him. Then, without another moment, you sneak the flower behind his ear and he reaches up immediately to hold it against his head, turning to you in surprise.

“To protect the both of us,” you explain.

“Thank you. I’ll be extra careful now.” He looks at the girls, setting his free hand on Alina’s head heavily and she flushes, smiling grandly. “You three behave while we’re gone, alright?”

You nod. “Listen to Levi.”

“And listen to your sister,” Reiner adds to Alina and Xavier. The former rolls her eyes, the latter sticks out his tongue. “I’ll miss you.”

This is their home—their family that tumbles together into a huge hug, and you can’t help but stand back, watching how they all seem to merge into one unit, unaware of where one part of their reach ends and another begins.

As Reiner pulls you into the hug, your heart soars through your body, effortlessly pounding in your throat and in your fingers and everywhere at once. Liquid heat pools everywhere as Xavier screws up his face when you kiss his cheek, the same way Reiner does after he’s eaten something sour.

And maybe it’s a bit different, or a bit broken, the shards of their bloody history still poking at their heels whenever they think you’ve forgotten them, and it’s most definitely not perfect, but you would rather have it like this then anything else.

“Hey, guys!” Breaking apart, the family look over to see Armin, Annie, and Pieck walking over. Gabi and Falco meander a little bit behind, pushing Levi in his wheelchair, and Jean and Connie are running not far behind them, shouting at one another. You stifle a laugh and Xavier shimmies out of Reiner’s hold to run towards them. The girls follow after him, trying to hold back their runs but the closer they get, you can tell the more frantic they are to say goodbye.

So this is what they’ve made a peace. Something, you hope, is good.

Annie bypasses them quickly, making her way over to you and you survey her face as Reiner squeezes your shoulder, walking over to their friends. Her blue eyes are fixed on your face, and you feel your lips curving into a smile as she shoves her hands in her pockets. Her hair is swaying in the wind, gleaming flaxen, and you remind yourself, not for the first time, that Armin and Annie’s kids, if they ever decide they want them, will be gorgeous.

Hope for the future, and all that.

She stops in front of you, tucking a strand behind her ear.

“So,” she says at length, “we’re going back to Paradis. I’m surprised you decided to come with us. You don’t owe any of us anything.”

“I know. But… you’re my best friend. You do the talking, I fly the getaway plane, right?”

“Yeah. There used to be a time when it probably would’ve been the opposite.”

You nod, and they stand in silence for a moment, watching each other. Two women who should not have been friends, but were against all odds. You don’t think you would be here today if it weren’t for Annie.

Your heart lurches and you take a step forward just as she does, her mouth open to say something. You throw your arms around her and she lets out a noise in surprise as you close your eyes. Arms coming underneath yours, her hands dig into your shoulders and you smile against soft hair as she sighs, easing into your hug.

“Finally working together on an actual assignment,” you mumble and her head tilts as her small frame shifts, a hand patting you on the back as a sign for you to back up. “Just like we always said we would.”

Bluntly: “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

“You, too.” Pulling back, the two look at one another for another soft moment before you remember the bag in your hand and you shift the bun up in the bag, extending it towards her. “Want some?” Her eyebrows rise in faint delight, before she’s reaching over, pinching and tearing a piece off.

You grin and do the same and you gesture for her to come stand by the rails with you, stuffing the bag into your coat pocket. Leaning against the warm metal again, you hear a seagull call. The plane you’ll be flying to Paradis floats on the water, the technicians giving it the final check before you take off.

If anything goes wrong while you help prepare and oversee accommodations for the rest of the ambassador group, you’ll remember to fire the black signal flare, but you trust Historia. You trust your friends.

You glance over at them, all laughing, and you notice that the flower has gone from Reiner to Pieck, who’s taking it out of her dark hair to tuck it into Jean’s, and his cheeks redden as he brushes it more securely behind his ear.

Annie catches your attention again, pointing out idly that they’ll have to separate soon when they finish with the plane, and you tell her to just wait a couple minutes more as Reiner catches your gaze. Setting Xav, who has somehow wormed his way back into his arms, down, he walks back over to you, and his hand trails purposefully over your back before resting at the nape of your neck, a reassuring weight on your body.

“You guys okay?”

“We’re fine,” Annie replies. “You have a clingy boyfriend,” she tells you.

“I think it’s charming.”

She rolls her eyes. Reiner smiles, and you pat the railing beside you—silent invitation. He leans in on your other side, clasping his hands and watching the fishermen pull themselves to shore, singing a tune to each other—one familiar to all three of them and one that you wish you could get out of your head.

“Soon may the Wellerman come…”

A faint breeze tickling at your fingertips as a sharp call for embarkment splits the harbour, you simply sigh and look over at Reiner. “I just want these last few moments to last.” His eyes meet yours, and he leans forward to press a kiss between your eyes. Annie lets out a soft noise of disgust and you bump your hip against her as Reiner pulls back.

Closing your eyes and lifting your head to the wind, you can almost imagine the one person missing standing on the other side of Annie, dark hair like spun, stained bronze and eyes like warm chocolate. He’d smile and tell them not to worry in that sincere way of his that makes you believe every word he says—as long as they were careful, they wouldn’t walk into any traps.

Your chest aches, and your lips tug into a heart-wrenching smile as you begin to sing along. Reiner slips a hand in between yours, pressing his temple against your head and you loop your other arm through Annie’s.

She rests her head on your shoulder, listening to your voice, eyes on the sailors bringing in their haul below them. Reiner hums the shanty softly, distractedly, eyes cast across the sea.

You tilt your head up to the sky, at the stars you cannot see but will join one day, and smile.

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thatsshowbizbby · 3 years

Text

ishq sufiyana

pairing: steve rogers x desi!reader

summary: your weapon of choice is a blade. his is a shield. both were made to clash with one another.

warnings: mention of blood and violence (slight). tension, angsty-ish? the wrath and the dawn, arranged marriage vibes. enemies to lovers-ish.

author's note: this is my first thing lol pls be nice. this isn't a full story but just an idea i had in my head. i believe this is called a headcannon (?) also my second time posting bc tumblr drafts/editing is killing my vibe

you are royalty - raised in a palace made of white marble, and clear, blue waters all around - handcrafted clothing and magnificent jewels at your disposal.

and your beauty. talk of your beauty attracts suitors from the farthest ends of the earth, coming to prove whether that talk is just mere gossip.

it’s not.

but that's not what got steve's attention when he first laid his eyes on you. it was the sword in your hand. a talwar.

your movement mimicked the flow of the water surrounding your palace - a fight style disguised as delicate. but to the trained eye, steve's eyes, it was anything but. it was dangerous. you were dangerous.

and you made sure to let steve know that you were far from a damsel in distress, waiting stupidly for her knight in shining armor.

"i don't know you, nor do i care for you. as far as im concerned, you're just another candidate waiting for my rejection. and trust me, it's coming soon but i'll let you enjoy your time here for a couple more weeks.”

steve scoffs because of course you would have an attitude. you were a spoiled princess. a beautiful, fierce one whom he was beginning to respect, but he would never admit that to you. not anymore. your arrogance trumped your beauty.

"oh sweetheart, what makes you think i want you at all?"

you two continue to bicker and roll your eyes at each other and make snarky remarks when crossing paths inside the palace walls for the remainder of steve’s visit.

“what’s wrong, princess? too scared to go up against me?” he would tease, sitting in on your sparring practices.

“believe me, rogers. you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if i were up against you.”

so when your father offers your hand to the nuisance a few days prior to his departure, you’re dumbfounded.

“beta, you two will get along. trust me.”

“i will only agree if he can defeat me.” you both knew full well that no one has ever been able to.

with that, you and steve prepare for a fight. you with your sword and dagger. him with his shield. how pathetic.

you got a few good hits in, starting off strong - cutting through his suit, hitting him in the face with the hilt of your sword, blocking his punches - he really only chose a shield? out of the entire palace armory, he chose his stupid, little shield.

but all that inner shit-talk came to a full stop when he disarmed you in one swift motion. your sword was on the floor, as were you, with your hidden dagger pressed against your throat and steve on top of you. how did he find that?

his breath fanned over your face. “always know your enemy, princess.”

___________________________

as you sat in your chambers, heart racing for the wedding tomorrow morning, you looked over your mehndi (henna). it had gotten so dark.

“deeper the color becomes, deeper the love. and your groom’s love for you must be competing with the darkest parts of the ocean,” one of your ladies said to you.

yeah right.

you pull yourself out of your thoughts and make your way to the room of your unenthusiastic betrothed. you’re careful to not be seen by any palace guards or maids. visiting your soon-to-be-husband in the middle of the night? the rumors would spread like wildfire.

you knock on the door and hear a “come in.”

steve turns around in nothing but a pair of sleepwear bottoms. oh boy. at this point, you’ve become extremely aware of your own appearance. long brown hair flowing freely, a smaller nath (nose ring) than your usual daytime wear, an almost sheer nightgown, and small shawl that barely covered your upper body. steve’s breath hitches in his throat from across the room.

you look at the cuts and bruises healing from your spar a few days ago. but the satisfaction of those memories, of the times you got him, were interrupted by the sight of a much darker bruise running along his broad shoulder. then you see his face. more bruises. more cuts. and bowl of water and rag in his hand.

“what happened?” you rush over, concern overcoming you.

“nothing, nothing. don’t worry about it,” he tries to brush off, but you’re not having it. you grab his chin and direct his face towards your own to get a good look. busted lip, busted jaw, swollen cheek. full lips. chiseled face. gorgeous blue ey- snap out of it.

“well if you’re going to look like this for tomorrow morning, i’d like to know what the hell happened.”

“there was a boy running from a couple of bandits in the market. i saw and helped him. the bandits didn’t like that,” he laughs, “it was ten against one.”

“and you got out with only a few scratches here and there? you’d think the damage would be worse,” you say, trying to hide your respect and admiration.

“yeah, you’d think.” there were those eyes again, this time burning into your own.

you take the rag from his hand. “sit,” gesturing to the embroidered armchair.

you soak the piece of cloth in the bowl of water, wring it out, and begin to clean the wounds on his face. he winces when you get to his jaw.

“sorry.”

trying to get a better angle, you step in between his open legs and take a seat on his thigh. gently holding his face, so gentle he could barely feel it, you wipe away the dried blood.

steve’s eyes rake over your face. the talk was not mere gossip. beautiful.

he was so immersed in his thoughts of you that he did not notice you were done. but still sitting on his lap. his face in your hands. it was your turn to stare intently at him.

your noses almost touching, as you instinctively run your hand through his hair. he sighs in content and relaxes into your touch. you feel your heart skip a bit at the response.

“try not to take another beating while you’re here, rogers. or better yet, why don’t you learn a few tricks? your swordsmanship could be better” you joke, as you get up and walk away.

but he grabs your hand, getting up from the armchair, and slightly pulls you towards him.

“i recall winning every fight i’ve been in. or did you already forget how we got here in the first place?” his eyes held a playful look, as if letting you know that he was not challenging you this time. he was merely….joking, alongside with you.

a smile tugs at your lips as you pull your hand away. “yes, well you still need to work on your swordsmanship.”

“only if you’ll teach me, princess.”

#chris evans #chris evans imagine #chris evans headcanon #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #marvel #marvel imagine #headcanon #steve rogers headcanon #bajirao mastani #bollywood #south asia #desi #enemies to lovers

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caramelcal · 3 years

Text

her favorite protector

summary: its been weeks since Luke and Bambi last spoke after their argument at the club, and everything seems bleak. things take a turn for the worst for bambi, but it seems only luke can save her from this one.

word count: 3.25k

requests: Anonymous asked:Hope your doing well and Omg you cannot leave us like that with his favorite club :( my heart is breaking. We need more!! We need cute fluffiness where Luke can change some of those controlling ways. Maybe a kidnapping or something? His worst nightmare coming true that his rivalry is using Bambi to hurt him?

Anonymous asked:For the next part of bambi and Luke, maybe while bambi is at Anna’s, a rival of Luke finds her and she’s really scared and even though they aren’t on the best terms Luke somehow finds her and rescue her

this gif...wow. he’s so pretty <3

ALSO?? LUKE IS ENGAGED TO SIERRA??? I FOUND OUT AND SCREAMED FR AHDFGHBNJHGFD IM SO HAPPY FOR THEM OMG

ᴅɪsᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ- ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛɪɴɢ ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ғɪᴄs ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ. ɪ ᴏʙᴠɪᴏᴜsʟʏ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴏᴡɴ ʟᴜᴋᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ɴᴏ ᴅɪsʀᴇsᴘᴇxᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ғɪᴄs, ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ sɪᴍᴘʟʏ ғᴏʀ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋʏᴏᴜ <3

Bambi hadn’t had a particularly great few weeks. She needed space, she knew that, and she knew that time away from Luke would do her the world of good. Anna had been nothing but kind to her, hospitable, not asking too many questions about why she was there and why Luke hadn’t shown up. Anna knew of Luke’s more controlling ways, so it baffled her that he hadn’t even acknowledged the girl being away for so long.

From what Anna had observed previously, Luke could barely breathe without the girl by his side; couldn’t rest easy. Neither could his girlfriend...if they could even call each other that anymore.

Anna, in all honestly, just wanted to know what the hell happened. She knew her best friend well, and she hadn’t stopped looking like you had kicked a puppy right in front of her. Hardly even speaking, barely going out, a very small and almost unnoticeable frown on her face.

It was a miracle that Anna had managed to get her out to the club last night. Sure, the smaller girl didn’t have the best time, but it was far better than any plans that she had at the weekend. All she planned on doing was sitting around and moping, the girl was miserable.

Maybe it was selfish, but she really wanted Luke to text her. She wanted some sort of proof that he still cared for her, and compared to his normal overprotective nature, this was so...different. It was almost as if he didn’t care for her anymore, maybe he moved on. Bambi didn’t know. What she did know of, however, was that Luke had a history of sleeping around. What if he didn’t bother coming back for her and just went back to his old ways instead?

It made her feel sick.

Maybe that’s why she barely got through the first round of shots before she was telling Anna she was going to head home, not wanting to be too much of a damper on her best friend’s night.

It seemed that the plan had worked. By the next morning, Anna was nursing an awful migraine due to her hangover and was sporting many new bruises that she didn’t know where they were from. At some point during the night, she had broken a heel off of her shoes, the discarded heel nowhere to be seen.

Anna still demanded they were going out to run errands the day after, dismissing her hangover but demanding that the smaller girl drove her. Surprisingly, she had gotten used to driving after so long of not even having her hands on a steering wheel. It wasn’t her fault that Luke had always preferred that he or Jacob drove her.

Granted, the girl didn’t have a car yet, but Anna was chill about her using hers.

“Anna,” The girl called out from the room, putting her converse on and tying them up, awaiting her friend to reply to her shout.

However, her reply never came, making the girl sigh. Maybe the girl had fallen asleep or just didn’t want to shout back due to her headache. She quickly picked up her purse and walked into the hallway leading into the main front room, “When are we leaving for-”

The smaller girl cut herself off, looking up towards where Anna should have been by herself but instead was pulled against a man’s chest, tears streaming from her eyes, absolutely horrified. A gun was pointed at Anna’s head, making Bambi still in fear.

“One bad move and this bullet goes into her brain, kid,” One of the men’s gruff voices warned, making fear hit the small girl like a wave. She didn’t know what to do, she wasn’t exactly prepared for it.

Bambi stilled, eyes traveling up to meet the older man in front of her, he looked powerful, must have been their leader. He was older than her, but couldn’t have been much older than 30. Small pieces of stubble decorating his jawline and a black shirt covering his muscles, stretching across his wide chest.

“Good move, princess. You’re coming with us,” The next thing the small girl knew was that the gun was no longer pointed towards Anna, instead, it was directly facing her. One pulling of the trigger and a bullet was going to lodge its way between her eyes.

Bambi didn’t have any time to react or notice the person behind her before their cloth-covered hand was covering her mouth. She was pulled against their body, restricted, unable to scream. Her mouth was dry with fear, the strong smell of chemicals hitting her nostrils as she breathed in. Chloroform.

Bambi’s eyes meet Anna’s tear-filled ones, her figure shaking lightly with terror. Anna was pressed down against the counter now, cheek against the marble, hands behind her back, and gun pressing against her temple. She could only watch, helpless, as her best friend was being manhandled out of the house.

Bambi couldn’t do anything either -weaponless- defenseless against these guys but she knew exactly why they were there. They were there to get her, to use her as a bargaining chip against Luke, just about the biggest cliché in the book. The small girl couldn’t help but wonder what they would do to her once they found out that she was useless, and no longer affiliated with the tall Australian. Would they put a bullet in her brain? Send her in a bag to the bottom of a lake?

However, the girl didn’t get much time to question or worry about this as the chloroform from the cloth weakened her as she was about the be thrown in the car, slumping against the man behind her, eyes closed, legs collapsing from beneath her, her consciousness slowly ebbing away into nothingness.

By the time that the girl had woken up, her vision was blurry, and she was tied to a chair, her arms behind her, legs tied to an individual leg of said chair. She was in a warehouse that looked to be completely abandoned, a hole in the roof allowing cold air to waft about. It was freezing.

“Looks like sleeping beauty had woken up,” A scratchy masculine voice taunted at the small girl, standing tall in front of her, blocking her from seeing anything.

“What do you want from me?” Her voice was also scratchy, maybe from the chloroform, she wasn’t entirely sure. She still felt disorientated, barely keeping herself from staying upright as she looked at the man who stood above her, a sinister grin on his face.

“We don’t want anything from you, kid. We want your boyfriend’s head blown off his body.”

“I don’t,” Bambi cut herself off for a moment, coughing, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

The man above her scoffed, rolling his eyes as he looked back down at the girl again, “Don’t act like I’m stupid, princess. All you gotta do is phone him, and Hemmings will come rushing to save his little girlfriend.”

Tears gather in the girl’s eyes as the reality of the situation kicks in. It isn’t a dream, this was her real life. She didn’t want to be trapped like this, in this chair or this life. Luke didn’t care for her anymore, he hadn’t talked to her in weeks, why would he come and save her?

“He won’t come.”

“Don’t play me, princess. I’ve never seen Hemmings ever with a girl twice until you,” He pointed towards the girl, sneering ever so slightly, “You are the key to us getting his gang wiped off of the map. starting with Hemmings, then Clifford, then Hood and Irwin.”

Tears choked up the girl’s throat, her mouth opening as she thought of the fight that she had with him, then the weeks of not talking. The loneliness, the discord. Luke hadn’t bothered to reach out to her, to check that she was ok. Her head shook slightly as the strong emotions continued to arise, “He doesn’t love me anymore, it’s useless.”

The man’s hand gripped the edge of Bambi’s shirt lightly, his jaw clenching as he spoke harshly, spit flying out of his mouth as he threatened the young girl. The gun, which had loosely been held in the man’s hand was now pointed at her once more, “Didn’t ask for your fucking sob story, kid. Open your fucking phone and call him.”

Bambi was frozen in fear, it felt like ice was going through her veins as her phone was thrashed harshly into her shaking hand. At her hesitance to call him, the gun was pressed harshly into the skin of her ribcage as the man ordered again, this time with his words even more clipped, “Now.”

She knew the man wasn’t asking, it wasn’t even an order, it was a threat. This man was dangerous, and she was defenseless against him, if she even wanted a chance of survival she had to comply and hope that he prayed mercy on her and let her go when she realizes she isn’t of use. Shakily, the girl found Luke’s contact, swallowing back her tears, she pressed the call button.

It was silent in the big room in the warehouse other than the few rings the phone made out as the man made her put the phone on speaker. Surprisingly, only a few moments of the phone ringing, it stopped, connecting onto the call with the tall Australian himself.

“Hello?” Luke’s voice sounded out and the girl felt the tears begin to roll down her cheeks at the sound of his voice. It was familiar, it felt like home but at the same time, she felt her stomach clench. His voice was surprisingly soft, the only indication that Luke knew that it was his Bambi calling.

She knew that he had been expecting her to call most likely. She just wished it hadn’t happened like this. She opened her mouth to talk, but the words didn’t form as the tears fell harder, his voice sounding through once more, this time sounding more concerned, “Bambi? What is it?”

“Luke I-” She cut herself off, forcing her sobs to stay silent as she felt the man press the gun against her in annoyance, rolling his eyes before stealing the phone out of the girl’s hand.

“Hemmings, you know when I found out you had a new girlfriend I didn’t think she’d be quite as soft as this,” The man taunted as he stared down at the girl in front of him, “She’s not your usual type, is she? Where’d you find this one?”

“What do you want, Andrews?”

“I want you to meet me at the warehouse, you know the one I’m sure,” The man had rolled his eyes, not that Luke could have seen and a smirk rose to his face, “I’d tell you to come alone without any weapons but I won’t. Bring Hood, Clifford, Irwin, I don’t care. I can just wipe out you all at the same time.”

It was silent for a moment, “What makes you think I will?”

“Because if you don’t I’ll make sure the next time you see your little love she’ll have a bullet in her head. Wouldn’t want me to mess up her pretty little face, would you?” He looked back at the smaller girl again, sending her a malicious smile that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up, “You have an hour, Hemmings.”

With that, the man hung up, tossing the girl’s phone to the floor and crushing it swiftly with the heel of his shoe.

The next hour was taunting for the small girl. The man didn’t leave her side, almost as if he was afraid that she would escape. At that time, she tried to distract herself with anything, but the cold warehouse was bare apart from the chair she was stuck to and the clock that stood high on the wall in front of her, taunting her almost.

The time slowly went by, and the girl lost hope. Luke wasn’t coming for her. Soon enough, the clock struck the time that would have been an hour past the phone call. Then another ten minutes passed. Another five.

“He isn’t coming,” The girl had spoken up to the man, which most definitely wasn’t the smartest thing.

The man continued to look straight forward, scoffing, “Shut up girl. He will.”

He seemed so assured of himself, of Luke. For a man that hated Luke so much, he seemed to have a lot of faith in him. The silence, which had yet again filled up the room was broken by the sound of someone talking through the radio, yet it was too broken up to hear.

The man took the radio off of the side of his pants, holding it up to his face, “Jason? Tyson? Can anyone hear me?”

Only more crackling sounds were heard until it faded off into silence. The man’s face twisted into a scowl as he cursed under his breath, getting his gun out and marching towards the door. He wasn’t very smart, clearly, leaving the girl unguarded and alone; she was all of the leverage he had against Luke.

The sound of gunshots made the girl flinch, eyes screwing shut as she began to shake. She didn’t want to be here. She just wanted to be home, in her bed. Not Anna’s guest bedroom, but her own. She couldn’t deal with this anymore.

The fighting got louder and louder until she heard someone battering right against the walls of the room she was in. The door heaved open, but she couldn’t find it in herself to open her eyes, too petrified of who could be there if she did. Hands pressed against her skin as she jumped, trying to fight them away but to no avail as they untied her bound legs.

“Bambi,” The man breathed out, and suddenly the smell of a familiar cologne clung to Bambi’s nostrils, her tears going thicker.

Her eyes opened to find Luke in front of her, crouched down, throwing the rope away that she had been tied to. She threw herself into his arms, hands going around his neck, one hand in his curls. He held onto her like he was scared she was going to evaporate right between his arms, holding her close against his body.

“It’s alright dove, I’ve got you,” He whispered, trying his best to comfort the sobbing girl in his arms. His eyes were closed, thankful to have the girl back in his embrace, and had no plan to let go of her anytime soon, “I got you.”

Calum, Ashton, and Michael had covered his back, successfully eliminating all of the threats as he had raced to get his girl, to have her safe with him once more. They had entered the room to see their best friend crouched down, practically encasing the smaller girl in his arms as she cried, him comforting her. They deserved their privacy, even after everything that had gone on, but they knew they needed to get out of here soon.

The girl’s tears subsided for a moment as she pulled away from the man, eyes darting around and voice panicky, “You need to find Anna, she was-”

“I know, she called me. She’s safe. We’ve been trying to figure out a plan to get you back for three hours now baby,” After his reassurance, he used the hand that was on the back of her head to push her towards him slightly, kissing her forehead as he played with her hair.

Soon enough, he has his leather jacket off, leaving him in only his black button-up, splaying the jacket across her shoulders to keep her warm. The drive back to their condo is silent, but that’s exactly how it should be. Luke doesn’t take his hand away from Bambi for the entire ride, despite how dangerous it could be. He just wants to remind himself that she’s there; back in his arms.

Luke had to admit, the condo felt warmer now that she was back in it. She sat on the counter in the bathroom, hand holding onto Luke’s as if it was her lifeline as he ran them both a bath, helping her strip down and get into the bath before sliding in behind her, pulling her against him.

Bambi basked in the warmth that both the water and the person behind her gave her. They barely talked for the first ten minutes, enjoying the comfort that the silence brings with it.

“I love you,” Luke murmured, pressing a kiss against her shoulder, stubbly beard itching her shoulder.

“I love you too, Lu,” The girl twisted around to face the man, pressing her lips against his, bubble-covered hand getting bubbles on his face. She doesn’t mention the beard, far too tired to make unnecessary conversation. She, however, noticed the guilty and solemn expression on her boyfriend’s face, quietly stating, “It’s not your fault, you know.”

“I should’ve protected you,” He whispered, hand reaching up to cradle her cheek, softly tracing patterns on her cheek with his thumb.

“No, you were giving me space, as I wanted. You were being respectful of my boundaries, and I love you for that.”

“It put you in danger, Bambi,” His hand that was around her waist pulled her closer when he said that, “I’ll do better, I promise. I’ll protect you.”

“No, Lu. You can’t protect me forever,” The girl said, kissing him on the cheek before speaking again, eyes never moving from the gaze that she held with the blue-eyed man, “I wanna drive, go out by myself without Jacob. I wanna go to the club-”

“Absolutely not,” Luke scoffed, shaking his head, his protective side of the smaller girl coming out.

“Luke,”

She looked up at him, head tilted slightly to the side with an eyebrow raised. He stared down at her, holding his ground before he looked away, letting out a slightly exasperated and breathy laugh, “Fine. But you only go to the club with me and you never leave my side. And you’re taking boxing classes. MMA, whatever. I’m teaching you how to fight. You need to tell me where you’re going at all times and sometimes let Jacob drive you but you still need to leave when low-level gang members are here-”

“Luke.”

“Fine. But you need to keep your distance from them, ok?”

The girl smiled beamingly, kissing him on the lips. She knew that from a protective boyfriend like Luke, that was the best that she was going to get, “Thanks babe, love you!”

Luke grumbled something lightly that sounded like ‘yeah, love you too’ as he rolled his eyes, the girl starting to clamber out of the bath. Her hands were starting to wrinkle due to the water, showing her that she needed to get out. However, she nearly slipped, thankfully being held back by her boyfriend, who helped her get out safely.

Slipping a towel over her body, she sent her boyfriend a sheepish smile, “How’re you expected to defend yourself at the club if you can’t even get out the bath, Bambi?”

“Oh shut it, Lu,” The girl laughed, making the blond’s face crack out into a small smile, “You coming or what?”

“Yeah yeah, give me a minute,” With that, the girl left, leaving the man to shake his head with a smile on his face. They were both back, with each other, where they belonged.

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