#when it took the Hulk a good bit to warm up to Strange | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rocorambles · 3 years

Text

Know Your Place

Pairing: Naoya x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Misogyny, Abuse, Rape/Non-Con, Humiliation, Degradation, Feet Stepping

Summary: You should have known better than to believe that Toji could protect you from the Zenin forever. Once a Zenin woman, always a Zenin woman and Naoya intends to make sure you fully understand that.

Growing up as a female in the Zenin clan means you’re always expected to serve, to look beautiful. Never speak unless requested to. Never look any of the men in the eyes. Obey. Be submissive and demure.

There are thousands of rules and dozens of leering eyes ready to punish you for a single minor infraction. So as much as you hate the life you’ve been born into, you know better than to act out and bring attention to yourself, knowing full well especially now as an adult woman that the price of transgressions are too high to pay.

You’d be incredibly fortunate for the usual heavy backhands Naobito and Ogi Zenin would grace your face with when you were still a minor, for the cruel condescending words Naoya would sneer at you. Those were child’s play compared to what’s in store for you now and you shudder when you remember the images of fellow female servants who had attempted to escape only to be easily captured, clothes stripped and body laid bare for the entire clan to see. You remember the fear that would make you tremble as the men howled in laughter and jeers as they took turns smacking their victim’s ass, pawing and groping her body. You remember sobbing when you were forced to watch as fists, cocks, objects that you thought were far too large were shoved between flailing legs.

But nothing keeps you in line more than the cold dread you’d feel heavy in your chest when you’d be forced to clean out the room of one of your ex-maids, preparing the room for the next poor soul born into a never ending life of servitude. As much as you hate this life, it’s still better than being tied up and forced to be nothing more than a Zenin sex doll, used by every man in the clan until there’s nothing left but an empty husk of skin.

So you keep your head down, ignoring the cruel words and predatory gazes that follow you. You enjoy the few moments you have in the servant quarters alone with your fellow maids, giggling and whispering to each other, pretending that you’re just normal women. Those friendships you form warm your heart and you take solace in the sympathetic glances and warm brief squeezes of hands when a Zenin man is particularly harsh in their treatment of you.

Maybe that’s why you can’t keep your body still when the woman who shares the same room as you accidentally spills hot tea all over Zenin Toji. And despite how terrified you are of Toji’s hulking figure and blood-stained reputation, you throw your body in between him and your friend, creating a feeble physical shield for her from his wrath.

A part of you is together enough to vaguely acknowledge how strange it is that Toji hasn’t roared a single word yet, hasn’t laid a hand on you. But you’re not foolish enough to think this is over and you throw yourself to the floor in a degrading groveling bow, begging him to forgive your friend, to have mercy on the both of you.

You know exactly who Zenin Toji is and you prepare yourself for the feeling of his infamous sword slicing through your neck. What you aren’t prepared for is the way he lets out a boisterous laugh, green eyes glimmering in amusement when he sees the bewildered look on your face as you tentatively peek up at him.

“You’ve got guts. Tell you what. I’ll forgive you and your clumsy friend if you become my personal maid. Deal?”

It’s a rhetorical question and you stiffly nod your head, tears forming in your eyes as you imagine the rest of your life chained to Toji’s bed, stuck in the lair of a beast.

Except your life isn’t anything like you had imagined and you’re stunned when Toji barks at you to go retire to your own room and get some rest so you’re ready to keep up with tomorrow.

Life is...surprisingly normal. Well as normal as it can be in the household of one of the top Jujutsu sorcerer clans in the world. You scowl at Toji as he teasingly throws a pile of sweat stained clothes and towels on top of your head as he walks out of the bath.

“You’re getting a little stronger, little lady. I almost even felt the punch you threw at me in training today.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the slight quirk of your lips and swell of pride at his backhanded compliment.

Toji isn’t anything like the rest of his clan and it goes deeper than just his lack of cursed energy or his supernatural strength. He’s kind. Okay, maybe that’s a stretch, but you genuinely believe he has a good heart. Not once has he ever spoken maliciously to you. Not once has he ever laid a hand even borderline inappropriate or suggestive on you. And sure, you don’t necessarily enjoy doing his dirty laundry, cleaning his room, and making his bed every day and night, but he makes it easy to forget that you’re just a lowly maid.

He talks to you as if you’re his equal, carefully listening to you, acknowledging your points (even if he mocks you when you do say something silly or that he disagrees with). He invites you to eat meals with him. He trains you deeming you too wimpy to last long without at least some basic defense skills. Your time with Toji is one of the few moments of happiness you know and you greedily indulge.

But unknown to you, your new proximity to the black wolf of the Zenin clan has more than one eye looking at you in interest and above all, Zenin Naoya can’t stop fixating on you.

Naoya has always had a strange mix of respect, disdain, and jealousy towards the older man and he can’t help himself from wanting what Toji has, especially when the both of you look so irritatingly happy chattering away with each other as if you have no cares in the world. How dare a lowly Zenin servant look so carefree. How dare curse-less Toji make a mockery of the rest of the clan by living a shame-free life despite how hard they try to humiliate him for it.

Has Naoya ever been happy? Ever been relaxed?

He can’t remember ever laughing as hard as Toji is now in response to something you’ve said or done. He can’t remember smiling so freely like you are as you playfully slap Toji and try to get him to stop teasing you. A green eyed monster slithers inside of him and before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s making his way towards the both of you.

“Aren’t you two as unseemly as usual. I know you don’t care for our clan’s reputation or rules, but really? Parading your slut around so shamelessly? That’s a new low even for you.”

It’s adorable how you scurry away, cowering behind Toji’s broad figure, fear written all over your face. And although Naoya had done this to get under Toji’s skin, he can’t help but wish the older man would storm off and leave you behind in his clutches. He wonders if you’d be this scared and docile underneath him, wonders how tight you’d be while you tremble in fear while he sinks inside of you…

His thoughts are abruptly interrupted as Toji snorts, slinging a muscular arm over your shoulder and dragging you off with him, subtly tucking you safely into his side and away from Naoya’s hungry gaze.

Usually being ignored and dismissed would rile him up more, but as he watches the two of you amble away and sees your innocent and confused face, unsure what had just happened and what’s causing Toji’s strangely touchy behavior, his appetite is whetted and you’re what he’s craving.

What he hadn’t accounted for is how protective Toji is of you. So strange for a man who doesn’t seem to care about anyone except himself. But Naoya supposes that’s just a testament for how good you must be in bed. He can’t think of any other reason why Toji would waste his time and efforts on an insignificant woman like you.

You’re never left alone long enough for him to corner. Just when he sees you by yourself and swoops in to shove you in a spare room, Toji suddenly looms beside you, green eyes sternly pinning Naoya down with a warning. And as much as Naoya would love to rise to the challenge, he knows that he doesn’t stand a chance against Toji, so he slinks away in defeat, again and again.

It only makes him want you more and he grits his teeth as he slams into one of the whores in his bed who vaguely reminded him of you if he squints in just the right way.

He supposes he should be more remorseful as the news of Toji’s death spreads like wildfire through the Zenin household. But all he can see is a light at the end of the tunnel. It takes every last bit of restraint in him not to immediately hunt you down and devour you, but he bides his time. After all the teasing and taunting you’ve put him through just one taste isn’t going to satisfy him anymore.

No, he won’t just ruin you and throw you away after a single night. He plans on dragging this out, using you, tasting you until it fully sinks in that this is all you’re good for, that he owns every part of you inside and out.

His cock twitches at your swollen face covered in salty tear streaks. You look so pathetic, so scared when he takes his time strolling into your room, kicking your roommate out and locking the door behind him. It’s just the two of you and he feels the rush of power thrumming through his veins at how you tremble and cower before him. If only you were naked and not in those dreary mourning clothes…

But he has ample time for that and he wants to enjoy corrupting you, take his time watching your downfall.

“You’re my maid starting now.”

You mutely nod, but make no move and Naoya scoffs.

“I know Toji was soft with you, but let me set expectations straight. I’m nothing like him. Now get moving.”

“But this is my room-”

You yelp in fright as Naoya’s hand grips the front of your shirt and hauls your body until you’re forced to press against his body, feeling his breath against your face as he sneers at you.

“Sluts don’t get the luxury of their own room or bed. Toji spoiled you. Now move your stuff to my quarters. The only place you’ll be sleeping from now on is my floor or my bed. Understood?”

It’s a rhetorical question and all you can do is crumple to the ground when he lets go, staring unseeingly at Naoya’s retreating back as he exits your room, the weight of your new reality crashing down on you.

Sleeping on the floor is humiliating and uncomfortable. Naoya makes it a point to “accidentally” step on you when he gets on and off the bed, rudely nudging you awake with his feet, resting his soles on your face until you’re flailing around to breathe. But it isn’t as bad as wondering when the worst is to come.

At least you’re clothed. At least your innocence is still intact. So as much as you feel like nothing more than a dog, you take it. After all, your new life isn’t so different from your life before Toji aside from your new sleeping arrangements and the headache of being in close proximity to Zenin Naoya.

It’s entertaining enough in the beginning, watching you curl up on the floor like an obedient puppy, admiring how you never talk or lash out when he literally walks all over you. He even buys you a pretty new collar with his name engraved on it linked to a leash he holds in his hand or leaves tied to his bed.

But unlike a real pet you never warm up to him, always looking at him warily, body tense and nervous in his presence. Not once do you look at him with even the slightest hint of affection or fondness you used to stare at Toji with. He supposes that can’t be helped and he doesn’t care for anything disgusting like your love. But you don’t even seem remotely attracted to him as a man and that’s something his ego won’t allow for.

He knows women can’t stand his attitude. But he also knows that at their base, all women are sluts easily swayed by his good looks. He can’t even count the number of women who’ve insulted him to his face only to end up in his bed, moaning and screaming his name and their love for his cock.

You were supposed to be no different. But your continued disinterest in him infuriates him to the point where petty humiliation isn’t enough to sate his hurt pride.

“Strip and get in bed.”

You’re frozen stiff and he sneers at you while you’re on the verge of terrified tears.

“What? I’m not good enough for you? Don’t act like you aren’t used to this. I’m sure your old master had you warming his bed all the time-”

“Toji would never!”

Even he’s stunned by the weight of his backhand hit as it makes contact with your face, by the venom in his voice as he spits out his next words.

“Don’t you ever say that name in my presence again.”

He takes a few seconds to calm his breath, the crimson of the blood trickling from your nose grounding him as he finds his center once more. But then a thought crosses his mind as that red river finds its way to your lips.

“As punishment, let’s make sure you know what your mouth’s purpose is from now on. Words are wasted on a dumb whore like you anyway. Kneel and open wide.”

It’s oddly arousing watching your tears and blood stream down your face as you choke on his cock. Your efforts are half-hearted at best, but he doesn’t mind. Not when the instinctual way your throat flutters around him as he roughly thrusts his hips into your tight mouth suffices. He can see why Toji kept you around and he groans as his hand slips behind your head and pushes you until your face is squished against his abdomen.

Your mouth feels amazing and your muffled screams for air only add to the vibrations around his shaft. It’s enough to have him spilling down your throat and he keeps you tightly pressed against him, forcing you to drink every last drop he gifts you with. And only when your throat finally stops its forced swallowing does he release you, leering down at your pitiful form heaving for breath.

The bitter taste of his seed is all you can taste, all you can focus on as you greedily inhale much needed oxygen. You pray that he’s done, but you whimper when a strong hand easily pulls you up and begins to pull off your clothing. Instinctively you try to push the invasive appendages away from you, but you freeze at Naoya’s growled threat.

“Don’t make me hurt you any more than I have to.”

You know it’s not an empty threat. You’ve seen the quite literally broken bodies of women who had resisted too much against the Zenin men, against Naoya specifically. So you limply drop your arms to your side and stay still as he humiliatingly gropes and examines you like merchandise.

All you can do is clench your eyes shut as Naoya’s hands grab your breasts, kneading and weighing them in his hands, cruelly prodding and pinching your nipples to see your reactions. All you can do is bite back a muffled yelp when he forces you onto your knees and forearms on the bed, squeezing and smacking your ass, spreading apart your cheeks to closely look at your fluttering holes. All you can do is cry into the sheets as he fingers you open, breaching both untouched openings, his thick digits stretching your tight walls apart and taking their time to thoroughly defile you, using your own slick to loosen your ass.

You try to disassociate, try to imagine that this is just a medical examination. But your fantasies are shattered when something hard and thick slaps against your inner thigh as Naoya rearranges himself behind you, rubbing the head of his cock back and forth against your dripping entrance, coating his shaft with your juices.

“Naoya! Sir, please. I’ve never...You can’t-”

Your pleas are cut short as his hand painfully strikes your ass.

“Shut the fuck up. You’re ruining the mood with your sniveling voice. Remember what I taught you? Sluts don’t get to speak freely. They only get to moan and thank their masters.”

You don’t even know if you can speak even if you wanted to, not when his cock is forced into you in one go, the thick and lengthy shaft ruthlessly tearing you apart. It fills you, stuffing you full, and you don’t think there’s even room left in your body for words. The only thing you can release is a strangled scream, eyes and mouth blown wide open, fingers clawing at the sheets as you try to remotely ground yourself as the foreign sensation overwhelms you.

But Naoya has never been a patient man and there’s a certain sense of entertainment from watching you struggle and writhe underneath him. He begins a relentless pace before you can adjust to the feeling of him inside of you, hips slamming in and out of you, heavy balls bouncing against you.

You’re so tight, so hot, so wet and he can feel a rush of power from the confusion he begins to see setting on your face as forced pleasure begins to mix in with your fear and pain. Moans and high-pitched keens are finding their way in between distressed cries and he smirks at the way your eyes begin to roll back in your head, the way your hips begin to meet him halfway, greedily pushing back against him when he teasingly slows down his pace.

He laughs at the humiliation and embarrassment running rampant on your face when you whine as he abruptly stops

“Wow you really are a slut. You fucking love my cock, don’t you?”

He rolls his eyes as you adamantly shake your head in denial, bored by your playing hard to get act. But as he admires the way your pussy lips obscenely envelop his cock, your pretty puckered hole beckons to him.

“You’re fucking filthy, clamping down on me like a bitch in heat from just a thumb in your ass. You like that? Like having all your holes filled? Maybe when I break you in, I’ll share you with the rest of the clan. Bet you’d love that. Love having cocks in every hole, using every inch of you.”

Your orgasm takes the both of you by surprise in its speed and intensity and Naoya howls in laughter as he resumes fucking you, chasing his own high with his thumb still lodged in your ass, groaning in pleasure at how he can feel the tremors of your orgasm, the way your body convulses in the aftershocks of pleasure and onset of overstimulation.

You’re breathtaking like this, fucked silly, delirious, just a warm body and toy for him to do with as he pleases and it doesn’t take long for him to join you over the edge and add to the sticky mess already inside of you.

With a lewd pop he retracts his thumb from your now lewdly fluttering hole, shoving it into your mouth for you to clean and he smiles at how mindlessly obedient you are as you suck and lick the digit clean like it's your favorite lollipop.

You grimace when he finally pulls out, already feeling his cum beginning to leak out of you and you try and find the strength in your trembling and used body to push yourself off the bed. It’s time to retreat with your tail between your legs and you want nothing more than to spend the rest of the evening in the shower, harshly scrubbing every evidence of your utter defeat and conquest under boiling hot water.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You open your mouth to speak, only to quickly clamp it back shut, remembering how your words only seemed to dig you deeper and deeper into trouble.

“You’re going to wash me and yourself and once we’re clean, you’re going to remain naked and in my bed until I’m ready to use you again. Think of it as a promotion. No more worrying your stupid little head about cleaning and laundry anymore. You’re being upgraded to my personal sex slave and bed warmer. Come on, I don’t have all day.”

You wonder if this is what it feels like to walk the plank, to approach your own death sentence as you robotically trail after Naoya’s figure towards his lavish bathroom. And as you lay in his bed that night, pristine and bare like a glorified sex doll, his broad arm possessively slung around your waist and forcing your bodies to mold together, you bid farewell to your past life, dreading what the future has in store for you.

#jujutsu kaisen smut #yandere jujutsu kaisen #naoya x reader #naoya smut #yandere naoya #tw: noncon #tw: abuse

1K notes · View notes

uncouth-the-fifth · 2 years

Text

Pythia, A Supernatural Rewrite. dead in the water, p2.

words: 12,055

notes: this update took extra long for an embarrassing reason: i got a new computer and fell down a video game rabbit hole lol. i mentioned before that i wanted to split the parts equally between the boys, and i will admit that there's a fair share of Dean in here, but my Sam love might have won out and shuffled him aside a bit. regardless! creepy lakes! petty arguments! embarrassing disguises! AND, just to spice it up, some Dean POV on Sam and Reader crushing on each other. enjoy <3

if anyone cares this is set sometime in late November. the time is in canon too, which is weird because it apparently doesn't snow in northern wisco??? hm.

LAKE MANITOC, WISCONSIN - NOV. 15th, midday.

By the time the Impala and the Chief hit the red light on the edge of Lake Manitoc, the overcast sky was combed through by tall, spindly tree-ends.

You didn’t let it dim your good mood. The search for John as a whole was going to be dispiriting either way, but the day-by-day of things didn’t have to be miserable. Beth had packed the three of you lunch for the road. Sam and Dean had only argued once, and instead of snarling at each other back and forth in the front seat, it started and ended when they were packing up. Sam was rightfully dissatisfied taking a new hunt while John was still missing. Dean, who had spent the last two years chained down and forced to wait, expected these things to take time. We’ll kill everything between here and finding him, he reasoned. As much as you agreed with Sam, you were out of any other options; when all else failed, you defaulted to the hunt.

Dean had found this one three days before in the obits. Eighteen-year-old Sophie Carlton was the third person this year to walk into the lake and never walk out, with nothing in the water to hurt her and an excellent swimming career to keep her afloat. It was just strange enough to be your kind of thing. A part of you imagined Dean was trying to find something in Wisconsin, though, since he missed your mom so much.

You’d mentioned to Dean that you’d packed for a weekend, not a month, so the trip gave you some time to stop back at your apartment, too. Having more underwear at your convenience definitely helped your mood. It was nice to get back into your closet instead of recycling the same two outfits too, but you wondered just how permanent this trip was going to be. Now, you were packing for a month or two out. How long would it be until you were in your own bed again? How long would the trip become on the next stop?

You tried to think of the positive.

Here, now, the Chief was alive under your gloves, roaring with the same power it’d had ten years ago. In the lane next to yours on the road, the Impala had her windows down and raced you to every light. You could coast along curves in the road with butter-smooth grace. The Chief was by no means a small motorcycle, so she looked right next to the Impala, who took up the whole street with her presence alone. Mostly, you kept to Dean’s side so you could sing Life in The Fast Lane with him. But every once in a while the flow of traffic would put you on Sam’s side of the car, where you could snicker at the dumb face he made when he napped against the window.

For northern Wisconsin in the dead center of November, you were surprised at how warm it was. Your family wasn’t the type to own a cabin up here or anything, but you knew from friends who did that this was prime snowing season; you should’ve been fighting through three feet of powder right now, not cruising along in just a coat and gloves—and that was only for the windchill on the Chief.

Still, the water would be icy enough to kill. Another week and the ice-fishers would be coming out of their dens. So why would Sophie Carlton go swimming in the first place?

The hulking muscle car and battering ram of a motorcycle didn’t exactly scream Wildlife Services to you, so you suggested (yelling over the loud motors and gesturing wildly) that you park further down the street. After two minutes of Dean staring blankly at you, Sam slapped his shoulder and pointed to a spot between the trees up ahead. You parked in what was probably a cop’s speedtrap hangout, and smiled at the boys as they adjusted to the cold breeze. They stepped out and stretched—you’d been on the road before the sun had risen.

“We should wear the hats and jackets, too,” you decided, after examining Sam and Dean on the gravel.

Dean stared down at his boots, ghostbusters tee, and his leather jacket, which at a distance looked more like a bumper sticker museum than an article of clothing. Sam was innocently rubbing his tired eyes with a knuckle, hair sticking up at every angle. Verdict: too obvious, too cute.

“What? I think we’ll pass,” Dean argued, which was just hilarious. He seemed to realize that immediately after he said it, because he lined up behind where you were digging around in the trunk and pouted. “Whoever designed those Wildlife uniforms had a thing for dudes in shorts. I do not do shorts.”

“Just the jackets,” you reasoned, “We’ll all look stupid together, I promise.”

Sam nudged his brother, calmly assuring him: “You’ll look the stupidest, though.”

Dean scrunched up his nose and scoffed. “Stupidest isn’t even a word, Samantha.”

“Sure it is,” Sam shrugged, “I use it in scrabble all the time.”

You plopped one of the Wildlife caps on Sam’s head, to cover his nap-hair, and gave the brim a teasing tug over his eyes. “He does,” you grumbled, “used to beat me with weird-ass words like that all the time.”

Dean was halfway through fighting to make his jacket look cool when a memory registered to him, and a Grinch cheek-to-cheek smile lit up his face. “That’s right…” he hummed. That vicious smile turned to Sam. “She chased you out into the yard once, didn’t she? Smacking you around with the game board?”

Sam fake-shuddered. “Almost made me eat two Zs.”

You slammed the trunk shut with both hands. “He got 300-something points with one word, Dean! One fuckin’ word!”

Sam, instead of trying to preserve his life, smugly suppressed a winner’s grin and coolly slid his hands into the pockets of his gray disguise. He said to Dean, “Quixotry on two triple-word score squares. It was 365 points, actually.”

“I’d love to see a rematch,” Dean covertly dropped into the conversation. Cagematch was a more appropriate word, especially with Dean smiling like he’d just bought tickets to a gladiator match in the Colosseum.

“If you want your brother to live to thirty, you will keep him and me as far away from that game as possible,” you warned, fixing your vest in place. For emphasis, you wielded your fingers like dual pistols at them, and in unison Sam and Dean raised their hands in surrender. Sam even pretended to cower a little bit, because he was such a good sport. You couldn’t help but smile.

With that, you started the brief walk to the Carlton house. The boys fell into an easy pace behind you. Lake Manitoc was foggy today, blurring the bare trees in the distance together and floating like a living creature over the lake. It would definitely be snowing soon—maybe even this week. Since you were a little too optimistic for your career and enjoyed the sights that came with the hunt, you breathed in the damp, chill air and soaked in the sharp smell of approaching winter.

This time of year wasn’t as hard on hunters now as it was for your pack-traveling ancestors, but in a strange way it brought you closer to them. Trudging through the snow in the middle of a dead-quiet night was easier for a werewolf than it was for you, even if you carried silver rounds in a rifle instead of a blade or a club. Centuries before, that was how your forebears had lived and eaten—not just the Proctors, but everyone. Man was supposed to be a hunter. Those cold winter nights, stalking the trail of an animal with your breath fogging the air, reminded you why you wanted to join the hunt in the first place.

The whole walk, Dean pulled and preened at his jacket, but seemed to accept that the dorkiness was an unfortunate side-effect of being undercover. He gave up when you reached the porch of the Carlton house, which was a picturesque cabin directly off the water. The wood was scrubbed a rich forest green in places and brick-red in others, almost like a lincoln log house, so it would’ve camouflaged nicely into the autumn trees. Seeing as it was winter, it’d soon be the only sore thumb on the water. The other houses you passed were white or eroded down to a chalky gray color by the lake.

Will Carlton, Sophie’s brother, answered after the third knock. He had this look in his eyes that seemed permanently urgent, which contrasted uniquely with the resigned, solemn air of his frame. His grief was quiet (your Gift was thankful for it), but burrowed ceaselessly behind his ribs. Opening the door to another set of officers didn't stun him. He must’ve seen plenty in the last few days.

“Good morning. I’m Agent Fisher, and these are my partners, Agents Ford,” you nodded to Dean, “and Hamill,” you tipped your head to Sam. “We're with the US Fish and Wildlife Service.”

As one, the three of you presented your badges to Will. He barely gave them a glance, eyes weary and tired after so many rounds of this, and lifted his chin. “My sister? And the lake?” He assumed. When you nodded, Will stepped back without a word and allowed you inside.

Interrogations had never been your strong suit, so you considered your half of the talking over and drifted behind Sam and Dean. The Carlton house felt like it’d been empty for years, even if the television was on and work papers with fresh ink cluttered a nearby desk. You got the impression that you could run your finger through the dust on the counters and the indent would disappear as soon as you turned away. A soft wind rattled the shutters on one side of the house. The old rugs and still curtains were all soaked with grief. It was routine on a hunt to sense this, so you did your best to coast over it and look deeper. Spending so much time with Sam, who filled your car and your hotel rooms with a surging river of loss, only made your task more familiar.

“She was about a hundred yards out.” Will poured some coffee into Sam and Dean’s mugs. “That’s where she got dragged down.”

Dean accepted his cup with raised brows. “And you're sure she didn't just drown? Or freeze?”

“Yeah. She’s a varsity swimmer,” he said, and none of you opted to correct him on the present tense. “Sophie practically grew up in that lake. She was as safe out there as in her own bathtub.”

While they spoke, you drifted from room to room, collecting the feelings of the house. You tried to scope around for any visions of Sophie or her family—knowing the victim always helped a case—but one moment you were studying pictures on the coffee table, and in the next you were staring out at the lake. Your legs were knee-deep in the icy water. The breeze was combing through your hair, and Sam and Dean were laughing and holding your shoulders. Their grip was a little too tight. It pressed and pressed until they wouldn’t let go, and then the lake water was pressing and pressing in from all sides—

“Um, would you like some coffee too, ma’am?”

You were in the Carlton kitchen. Will stared at you expectantly, mouth flat with confusion.

“...She would love some, thank you,” Sam answered on your account.

You cleared your throat and nodded, muttering the kindest, most casual yes, thank you that you could muster. A second later, you realized you’d been almost nose-to-nose with the glass screen in the back door. Peeling your hand off the knob, you took a step back and set your eyes again on the water. The entrenching winter turned the picturesque, mirror-like lake into a sheet of milky gray film fuzzed out at the edges by fog. Huge dark shapes of unfrozen lake water floated in the lake’s center. In some spots you could see the black water beneath rolling in one direction under the ice, like the fins of a shark brushing underneath the hull of a liferaft.

A lone man sat on the Carlton’s dock, his face in his hands.

Will offered you a cup of steaming coffee in a blue mug, which you took gratefully. It had the logo of a local college on it. Sophie had probably just applied. Carefully, you sipped from it and offered, “If she was a swimmer, Sophie would know the lake was too cold, right?”

“That’s what I’m wondering,” Will said. “It was—it was freezing out that day. Dipping a toe in the water would’a paralyzed you. She’d told us she was going on a jog, she was even in her coat and gloves, but… I don’t know. She just decided to swim.”

Dean hummed in thought. Next to him, Sam looked past you to the stretch of water behind the trees. “You mentioned that you felt she was dragged down by something. She didn’t freeze? This wasn’t… a choice, on her part?”

Will blanked. His face grew very red, and tension built and built into his shoulders until he blew it all out of him in a single heavy sigh. Something about it reminded you of Dean. “Sophie didn’t commit suicide,” he said, voice coarse and resigned, “I-I know people say that all the time when this kind of thing happens, but really. She’d just signed on to swim for UW Madison,” he pointed to your mug’s label, “She had a future. And I know my sister. I know it sounds weird—”

“Not at all,” Dean reassured him, with a little bit of humor. There were all sorts of legends about bad things happening to people in lakes. To you, it was hardly weird.

Sam folded his hands on the table, and without looking at him you could tell that his eyes were bleeding with compassion. “We believe you, Mr. Carlton.”

You wondered about the other Mr. Carlton, who appeared to be, even at this distance, wrought with anguish and despair. The boys learned more from Will about Sophie’s drowning. She was too far away for him to make out any shapes in the water, she hadn’t struggled, and there were no tracks by the shoreline. All the while you studied the tiny figure on the dock. If the scene were a painting, you could guess the title. Mourning.

“We know your family is going through a terrible time, Mr. Carlton,” you said, “but do you think we could speak to your father?”

Will glanced over his shoulder, through the windows of the kitchen sink. If you saw a figure mourning, you wondered what Will saw there—what he thought about his father falling apart like this. “Look, if you don't mind, I mean… he didn't see anything and he's kind of been through a lot…”

“Of course,” you said, and Sam rose from his seat to say, “We understand.”

You bid Will goodbye and thanked him for his answers. Before you shut the door behind the three of you, you caught one last look at him, hands braced on the edge of the kitchen sink and his head hanging. An ugly shiver of finality rolled through you. You felt like you needed to warn him against something, somehow, but the words never came and a vision never washed over you.

The feeling followed you outside, so you assumed it was just the strange feelings of the lake eating away at you. As always, the boys talked back and forth about their thoughts on the case, confirmed that it had to be something supernatural, and gave you some time to assemble yourself. Well, Sam did.

“You were gone for a minute there,” Dean noted. He fished the Impala’s keys out of his jacket, tapping the metal keyring with a twitchy finger. “What’d you feel?”

Tonguing one of your molars in thought, you drifted away from the boys on the side of the road and turned to face the lake. There was a thicket of weeds between you and the water, but even an electric fence and mounted turrets wouldn’t have seemed like much of an obstacle. Sam crouched on the edge of the grass and started looking for any significant flora. You were reminded of all the times you’d play in the creek behind Bobby’s house as kids; how the sun would trickle through the tree canopy and play along Sam’s face, or dance over the water, or highlight the golden edges of Dean’s hair. Bobby would prop himself up in a lawn chair with a car magazine, and every time you or the boys tried to sneak up on him you’d take a trigger of super-soaker to the face. You or Sam or Dean would squeal with joy every time it happened, and laugh harder at Bobby’s cursing.

The lake felt nothing like those summer days, but strangely reminded you of them. Like once there’d been a time when kids swam with their friends here, backstroking in the glittering sunbeams, and somewhere between now and then, it’d ended. Something had killed those summer days. You knew the feeling.

“It’s a spirit,” you cleared your throat, “I don’t know who’s yet, but I’m guessing it’s a kid. Something about it…” you resisted the urge to step closer, to look at your reflection on the surface, “is drawing people into the lake. And it’s a strong ass pull.”

Sam raised his brows, “A vengeful spirit?”

“Vengeful as all hell,” you nodded. You sighed, and dared to step closer to the edge of the gravel roadside. “Jesus… that poor kid.”

Dean looked like he’d eaten something sour. “You think it’s related to the Carlton’s in any way? Cause if it’s vengeful, and going after them, there’s gotta be some history there.”

“I’m not sure,” you decided. With both boys looking at you for answers, you felt a little pressured to be right about all of this, but it was hard to pin down something based on gut feeling. Even if your gut feelings were technically psychic. The presence of their eyes on you made you feel a bit too much like a leader for your comfort. You were much better as one piece of a whole.

“Um,” you offered, turning your ring, “I’ll camp by the water a bit, feel around for a vision. We can meet back up at the hotel. Why don’t you two—”

Dean objected with a forceful splay of his hand between you. “Uh, yeah. No way.”

You stopped short. Usually, you trusted Dean to make these kinds of decisions, but then he trusted you with far more dangerous things in return. It wasn’t necessarily him shutting you down that irritated you. You were partners, so you’d vetoed him on hunts plenty of times. What was strange was the tone of Dean’s voice. This wasn’t your hunting partner, Dean, suggesting a new plan—it was big brother Winchester, outright tossing your idea and your own knowledge of your Gift.

“Twenty more minutes and I can probably save us two days of research,” you pointed out, maybe being more snappish than necessary.

Sam immediately pushed off his knees and stood, which made you internally wince. He had the unique and fascinating ability to throw himself into massive arguments with Dean at will, over literally anything. It would be impressive if they weren’t often for your sake. You loved Sam, but his vicious protectiveness never clashed nicely with Dean’s.

“Or this spirit hypnotizes you and you take a long walk off a short pier,” Dean quipped. He tossed his keys into his other hand, and swung around to unlock the Impala with his stupid you know I’m right stare aimed in your direction.

“I think I’d be very un-hypnotized, thank you very much,” you retorted before you could stop yourself.

He paused, then revolved very casually, very dangerously away from the car. He tethered himself to it by the keys in the door, and you frowned at him. “Dean, do you seriously think I can’t handle the influence of one measly spirit? I’m not gonna—”

“You almost walked right out of Will Carlton’s backdoor and into the water. Your hand was on the doorknob n’ everything.” Dean pointed out. At the building outrage in your face, he invited your anger in the cockiest way he could, “Sweetheart, I trust you, but you just don’t have the juice today.”

This is because Sam is here, you wanted to spit. But that would only drag Sam into things, which he didn’t deserve, and you didn’t want to find out that Dean’s full trust had transitioned from you to his brother anyway. Nor did you want to watch Dean fail to lie about it. You closed your mouth and simmered down: Dean was right. He was simply making a judgment call, and considering how little sleep you’d gotten and how you had been ready to head for the shore… he was right. It was fine. He could be wrong sometimes too, and in the past you’d been the one to point it out before. You trusted him. All you could do was have faith that he trusted you too.

Okay, you were about to sigh, then Dean opened his stupid mouth.

“We’ll give it a try tomorrow, after we talk to the sheriff. I want you as tough as you can be, in case we gotta face this kid the hard way. For now,” he said, popping open the driver’s door and giving you a warning look, “let’s keep our greatest asset where it’s safe.”

Oh. You went still, like a knife had been dug hard into your stomach.

Picking up your motorcycle helmet like you fully intended to crush it into powder, you held it over your hair, scowled, and ground out: “Fine.” You jammed it over your face and whipped down the visor.

“What?” Dean spread his hands in disbelief. Instead of answering him, you folded up your kick-stand and started the Chief’s engine, easily drowning out whatever else he had to scoff about. Dean slouched between the door and the Impala’s frame; Sam slapped his arm. Again, he barked, “What!”

“Greatest asset?” Sam repeated, curling his fingers in quotes. “It? Jesus, Dean, she’s got feelings—!”

“I can fight my own damn battles, Sam.” You snapped, and damn him for giving you that righteous kicked-puppy look. None of you needed another argument to whine about. “Don’t you dare go squabbling with your brother because of me. Both of you get in the car, now—we’ve got a job to do.”

And, apparently, you had to do it the long way.

You were back to your collected, professional self by the time you and two-thirds of the Winchesters parked in the lot of the police station. Naturally, Dean took you opening the door for him as a signal to bury that argument and never speak about it again, while Sam steamed. He stepped through the entry with a sympathetic furrow on his brow. You squeezed his arm and silently begged him to be obsessed with defending you some other time, but Sam was definitely going to comfort you about it later. Your chest swelled with frustrated love. Damn him.

It was just a poor choice of words. Dean didn’t really think of you as just some asset—you knew that, so there was no need to cause trouble. It was your turn to have your petty flare of anger, but that was put behind the hunt once it was done and left alone afterwards, too.

Still, you couldn’t lie to yourself. You were still a little wounded by it. Enough to zone out during Dean’s entire introduction to Lake Manitoc’s sheriff, Sheriff Devins, and to clumsily miss the beat to present your badge. The second you came out of your mind, the Sheriff was there staring at you. His silver hair implied how a long, rough career had earned him his indelicate manner, which you were about to be victim to.

“...Why did the Wildlife Service need to send three whole agents?” Sheriff Devins squinted. That turned into a gunmetal glare when all you could do was blink at him, since you’d left your undercover hunter-self a mile back down the road.

Sam was on a streak today. He smiled that pleasant Sam smile that could convince anybody to do anything, the one honed specifically against mean old men like Devins, and nodded professionally to you. “She’s our Aquatic Management Specialist,” he explained, probably pulling the title directly out of his ass, “higher-ups thought it would be best to be thorough.”

Devins narrowed his eyes even further. “This drowning was accidental. Why would we need an aquatics specialist?”

Still, Sheriff Devins held open the employee gate to the secretary’s cubicle for you, and spoke mostly to Sam as he herded your group into his office. Dean lingered. You noticed him making a face at all the files and folders and pens. Lake Manitoc was a step above a small town, so the station was a step above silent. Phones rang and keys tapped just loud enough to hear, reminding you that there were a dozen cops in the building who could uncover you at any time.

“You sure it’s accidental?” Sam asked, doubtfully, “Will Carlton saw something grab his sister.”

Devins deadpanned. “Like what?”

You panicked a little because you thought this was a question for you, and cycled madly through your head for all the lake animals you knew—nymphs, lake spirits—fuck, not real—well they were real, just not to normal people. Devins kept talking, exasperated. “Here, sit, please. There are no indigenous carnivores in that lake.”

Being the last to come in, you were too late to take one of the two seats in front of Devins’ desk. The office itself was like any of the dozens you’d seen in your hunting lifetime, layered in files and built-in with the rustic Midwest charm. The difference between standing and sitting in one of the little armchairs was not life or death, yet there was Dean. Offering you his seat. You felt stupid being pouty and causing a fuss, so you brushed down the front of your jacket and thanked him with nothing but a nod.

(Asset, he’d said. Sam was Sam, but you were just a conduit for the asset.)

“There's nothing even big enough to pull down a person. Unless it was the Loch Ness Monster,” Devins continued. He was joking, but he had the hard-ass attitude that you were used to with John and Bobby that made you almost take him seriously.

From over your shoulder, you heard Dean scoff. “Yeah.” He plastered on a smile, and without meaning to, you spoke at the same time as him: “Right.”

“Will Carlton was traumatized, and sometimes… the mind plays tricks,” Devins clarified. He settled smoothly into his seat, pointing his folded hands on the table at you. “We dragged that entire lake. We even ran a sonar sweep, just to be sure, and there was nothing down there.”

He said this plainly, like it was beyond obvious, and you stumbled into another feeling familiar to the hunt: sympathy. A part of you wished you could explain the truth to him and others like him. Devins really had no clue what was out there, and there was no way for you to warn him. Right now, the thinnest wall stood between what he knew to be fact and the ugly, fanged truth. Sensing that barrier in the conversation never failed to make you twitch. John had always said that’s what made you such a shit liar; too big a piece of you wanted to tell the truth, every time.

“That’s weird, though,” Dean jumped in, wetting his lip in thought. You could imagine the open, conspiratory look he was giving Devins, which didn’t have the luxury of actually being open or trusting at all. “I mean, that's, that's the third missing body this year.”

“I know,” Devins rumbled, and a grave pallor drained into his face. His steely, determined eyes passed over each of you. “These are people from my town. These are people I care about.”

You thought back to the lake. It was a centerpiece of Manitoc, its namesake, and likely its heart. Every house in ten miles fixated around it, and you imagined if you’d grown up here it would be an important slide in the showcase of your life. In the summers you’d walk the shores or relax on the docks, and in the winters you’d wake to ice thick enough to skate with friends on. You grew up in a similar place, so the weight in Devins’ voice hit a little too hard for you.

“Anyway…” Devins leaned back in his chair, frowning, “All this...it won't be a problem much longer.”

Sam pressed the pads of his fingers to his mouth in thought. Dean put his weight on his other leg, brows raised. “What do you mean by that?”

Devins’ forehead creased. “Well, the dam, of course.”

Awkwardly, you, Dean, and Sam all nodded and hummed in understanding, trying to catch up. Sam’s leg anxiously bounced like it always did when he was out of the loop, and his brother filled in: “Of course, the dam. It's, uh, it sprung a leak.”

Devins’ suspicion meter spiked, lifting his shoulders with it. “...It’s falling apart,” he stated the obvious, “and the feds won't give us the grant to repair it, so they've opened the spillway. In another six months, there won't be much of a lake. There won't be much of a town, either.” He leaned forward, eyes crinkling with a mirthless smile, “...But as Federal Wildlife, you already knew that.”

Dean opened his mouth to save the three of you, which was a trainwreck waiting to happen. Luckily, you were actually saved by a polite knock on the open door frame. “I’m sorry, am I interrupting? I can come back later…?”

Together, you and the boys stood to greet the voice. The moment you set eyes on her you internally groaned: dark hair, dark eyes, with all those pretty moles on her face. Definitely Dean’s type. Dear god. It was right around then when you’d look at Sam, and the two of you would make silent bets on how long it would take Dean to hit on the poor girl. But Sam was already looking at you and giving you the sad eyes, coupled with the sad eyebrows, and you deflated pathetically under both. You could bet on Sam lingering on your spat with Dean then, too.

“Gentlemen,” Devins said, and wow, you just loved to be included, “This is my daughter.”

The added element of danger only made the grin on Dean’s face grow. He was conveniently the closest to her, so he took one step, put on that dazzling smile he’d been practicing since he started growing stubble, and collected the woman’s hand to shake. “Pleasure t’ meet you,” he drawled, “I’m Dean.”

Amusement danced in her eyes. “Andrea Barr. Hi.”

“Hi,” Dean returned.

Watching this play out was much more fun when Sam was fake-gagging right along with you, but he wasn’t, so your playful disgust died out.

“They're from the Wildlife Service. About the lake,” Devins introduced.

Something strange floated across Andrea’s face. It reminded you of the rolling, curling black water of the lake under the ice. She uttered a careful, “Oh,” as she looked at you.

Then, a little boy came peeling around her, probably expecting his Grandpa’s empty office to play in. When he was met with three strangers instead, he paled, backpedaled, and froze beside his mom. He was a printed copy of her, with a big round face and doe eyes. A second weird feeling lurched in your mind when you looked at him, but whatever had caused it was poofed into smoke when you glimpsed Dean’s face.

His smile for Andrea had been a little played up, but his grin for the kid was totally genuine. Something in him changed a little bit, his shoulders smoothed out, the tension in his arms unwound, and Dean bubbled, “Hey there! Aren’t you fast. What's your name?”

Your stewing temper was ripped out from under you, replaced by pink-tinted nostalgia.

Dean had been like that with you all the time.

There were three short years of age between the two of you, but it could’ve been three decades, three months, or even three days, and nothing would’ve changed. Dean would’ve still mothered you without question. When John left you to hunt or Beth ran out to help him, you and Sam at nine and eight were always in twelve-year-old Dean’s care. You vividly remembered him spending hours making forts for you and Sam in the living room. He’d play Barbies with you, which was probably why most of the games you played by yourself involved so many chainsaws and sharks. (Dean was always Mermaid Barbie, who could secretly turn into a great white). He’d ruined one of Beth’s red blankets using it as a tablecloth for King Sam and Queen ____’s royal banquets, during which he was your royal waiter serving out spaghettios and apple juice. Maybe being a big brother made him more nurturing, or nurturing had made him into a better big brother.

The look he gave Andrea’s son was so familiar to you because Dean used to give it to you every morning. He’d distract Sam with the Saturday morning cartoons, plop you down on the bathroom counter, and goad you with that heartening smile to stay still while he brushed and braided your hair. It probably bored him half to death, but he did it every morning you were together because you loved it so much. Now, with 20/20 hindsight, you wondered where Dean had learned to braid hair. What drove him to learn in the first place? You?

The anger you’d been pretending to let go of burned into ashy guilt. Between the three of you, Dean was the cocky one and Sam was the gentle one—you knew, deep down, that you were the angry one. But you usually had a solid reign around those feelings, even if they got away from you sometimes. Lately, with John burning holes in the boys by being gone and your mom’s quiet pressure, your pot had been ready to boil over for a long time. You suddenly felt terrible for lashing out like that.

Andrea’s son didn’t respond to Dean. His youthful face, dragged down by grief, bent to the floor. He whipped around and disappeared out of the room. Andrea turned after him.

“His name is Lucas,” Sheriff Devins answered for his grandson.

Dean deflated, and you ached over your own stupidity. That poor kid.

You watched Andrea settle Lucas in a spot near the secretary’s desk, too far away to hear but close enough to see. She lovingly laid out his drawing paper, then his crayons, walking indigos and reds through the ranks of his toy army men. Lucas didn’t giggle or respond to her playing. He just took up his crayons and started to draw, hypnotized by the movement of the lines. When you glanced to your right, Dean shared a worried look with you.

Gently, Sam asked, “Is he okay?”

Sheriff Devins turned his back to you and shuffled some files on his bookshelf, pointing his fear where you couldn’t see it. “My grandson’s been through a lot,” he muttered, “we all have.”

Devins ushered you out of his office, leaving you with the standard, if you need anything… and a little more to go on than before. You felt the Sheriff’s eyes linger on the light scars on your cheek from where Constance Welch had slammed your face through the Impala’s window. His suspicion was something you’d need to look out for, going forward. Hopefully he was someone you could help, then promptly leave in your rearview. Dean flirted his way into getting you a guide to the nearest motel, where the Impala was already parked and where you already had a room. Andrea seemed to catch on, but walked you the two blocks anyway.

“I’ll be back to pick up Lucas at three,” she said. When Andrea gave her son a playful wave, his eyes bored back almost lifelessly.

“Hey,” Sam says, when Dean and Andrea are too far in front of you to hear.

Good thing, too: It’s said in the same special, compassionate tone that never fails to soften you into clay, so you slow down and fall into step with Sam. Dean would recognize that tone a mile away. The breeze is biting now, worming its way under your jackets and pricking your cheeks. In unison, you and Sam slide arm-to-arm on the pavement to soak up some warmth in each other. The music of a small town surrounds you; whisking tires, cracking twigs, distant traffic. Twenty kinds of guilt swim in your gut when you look at him. Sam just gazes back.

“Hi,” you wet your lip, watching your footing. “I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier.”

“I’ve lashed out at you my fair share recently. If anything, you still owe me another one until we’re even,” Sam remarks. There’s no heat in his voice, only sincerity, and it makes you want to climb up and squeeze him around the shoulders like you had on the attic stairs. His brow furrows. “I wanted to say—”

“Sammy,” you sigh, begging a little, “It’s okay. Really.”

“It really isn’t,” Sam decides. He shoves his hands into his jacket, mirroring you, and whips off the stupid Wildlife Services hat. “I-I should’ve said something. I should’ve. Has Dean been talking like that to you this whole time?”

“No,” you enunciate. You feel stupid just walking and talking, so you rip your rings out of your pockets and put them on as calmly as you can. “I didn’t mean to be a jerk about it, but I meant what I said. I can stand up for myself if I need standing up for—and I don’t. I’m used to it.”

This is almost the right thing to say, and it looks for a moment like Sam is ready to listen to you. But you’re blubbering a bit too much and are a little bad at explaining yourself, so Sam’s brows disappear into his bangs and he repeats, to emphasize how terrible it sounds: “You’re used to it?”

Ahead of you, Andrea laughs at whatever flirting angle Dean’s failing to go for, and you pause. Breathe in. Lower your voice. “Sam—” you start to say, but instead of soothing him it just pulls him faster down the spiral.

It is hard to argue with Sam, because he tries very hard not to yell at you. With John, he can raise his voice all he wants—John, after all, will raise his right back—and Dean isn’t afraid of getting loud to assert his point either. But the last time you’d fought that viciously with Sam (a million years ago) you’d flinched away when he’d yelled, and to this day he’d never left that memory behind. Sam doesn’t argue with you, he convinces you. His voice is soft and rational, and when he talks he touches your back and guts you with those big brown eyes. You doubt that kind of persuasion would be allowed in court, but if it was, well. Another reason why Sam would make a killing as a lawyer.

“You shouldn’t be used to being treated like a tool,” Sam almost hisses. “We are the only people that you can share your Gift with, so we should respect it more—”

“Baby,” you huff through your nose, and Sam is instantly, impressively rendered silent. “It’s okay. Your brother didn’t mean it that way, and in the event he did, I’m gonna let it go. My Gift is a tool. Plain and simple. And I’d rather Dean be using it or whatever instead of some creep I don’t know—someone I can’t share my Gift with.”

Sam brews with this, but you can tell he’s upset. You feel like you’ve done a poor job of answering him, and an even poorer job of calming him down, so when the motel comes into view you stop on the pavement. Sam is still frowning deep into his dimples, and again an avalanche of guilt pins you to the spot—you’re putting this on him after his girlfriend died, when his father’s missing—but you keep that to yourself. You offer your palm to Sam.

“So, your partners…?” You hear Andrea ask Dean, which means Sam hears her too.

It doesn’t seem to matter to him. As always, without the hesitation everyone else reserves for you and your powers, Sam tilts his cheek into your hand and lets you share your feelings.

You take the Sam angle, flushing the connection with love and gratefulness first to soften him up a bit. One of his evil little tactics he’d taught you. As plainly as you’re able, you try to express that it really doesn’t bother you. You’re not angry at him or Dean—you’re furious at your Gift, and are terrified of being dragged off to the parlor to open your mind to some stranger. Sam nudges you—he understands. The connection is so open that a stranger with enough willpower could rifle through your deepest thoughts, could stroll through your insecurities, could peruse your memories like a magazine. He can feel it, just through your hand. He could divulge every thought you’d ever had of him if he really pushed, but Sam doesn’t. Dean wouldn’t either. You trust him, and know him in ways that Sam just can’t quantify. Sometimes, his omniscient big brother said things the wrong way, and sometimes his all-seeing best friend slipped and lashed out.

What you don’t mention to Sam is Dean’s voice swimming around in your head. Once, after one of your more vicious battles with John, Dean had pulled you aside and begged you. He’s doing the best he can. It’s not good enough, I-I know, but just. Just know he’s got limits.

Dean had been talking about John then, but now, you were forced to apply his advice to himself. His father was missing, his brother was grieving, his best friend was sickly under the weight of something too big for her. He was piecing together a vase as the shards chipped off, but they were breaking too fast and his fingers were bleeding. Dean had his limits, too.

You took the back of your hand away from Sam’s cheek, and with it he relaxed. “Okay?” You asked him, and Sam nodded, placated: “Okay.”

Dean had wanted to question the Sheriff as early as possible, so while the Impala had already been unpacked, your motel room was by no means a home yet. With assembly-line efficiency, the three of you fell into your routine: Dean unloaded your clothes and hid your weapons, Sam got on his computer to research, and you salted the doors and windows.

You found that it was these moments where John’s absence was most acute. He always did some warding of his own, but his rhyme and reason for the methods he used were too complicated for you to follow. Sometimes he would put a doormat down with complicated sigils on the underside. Occasionally, he’d make you and the boys crowd around the entry and push hand gestures at the door while speaking incantations. (Which Dean always got a kick out of, since a common warding gesture in most cultures was the mano cornuta, or the rock on! sign). And if there was a mirror in the room, John always moved it so it faced the doorway.

Sam would melt into the floor with embarrassment every time his dad was weird like that. You sympathized with him, but it was one of the stranger parts of day-to-day hunting that you just had to accept. The symbol on your hand was too old to completely understand, but it was probably an ancient warding symbol too. These rituals were so ingrained in you that if you ever escaped the hunt, you knew you’d still check salt lines in your sleep and wear your rings, no matter what had changed.

Now, your rings pressed into the comfortable divots they’d made in your dagger hilt as you unsheathed it from your waistband. It made straightening your salt lines easier. You weren’t two steps inside the room, salt and knife in hand, when Dean threw down the last duffle on a bed, plucked the Chief’s keys off the nearby table, and slowed to a stop in front of you.

“Hey,” he said, his face the epitome of nonchalance. “Um… it looks like it’s gonna take me and Sam a bit on this research thing. We need to check into other drownings, n’ missing kids to ID the spirit, n’ everything… It’s a lot. So why don’t you take the Chief down to the lake and do your thing?”

You pointed to where Sam was sitting on the furthest bed, already engrossed in his research. “...Sam just opened his laptop.”

Dean gave you the toughest pleading look he could, huffed, and jut out the keys again. The please was implied, and the I’m sorry even moreso. You got the feeling Sam had something to do with this.

You could’ve said something snide, about your abilities and his opinion of them, but Dean stood there like he was trying to chew his own teeth. You reminded yourself of his limits. That didn’t really help. You reminded yourself that Dean was doing this not because he didn’t trust you, but because he didn’t trust the world to treat you right, and without word exchanged the salt for your keys.

“I’ll be careful,” you promised, and scooped up his wrist to give it a reassuring squeeze. Dean was still internalizing that you could miraculously die in the half-hour you’re gone, so you kissed his closest cheek and went to open the door. “You gonna survive without me?”

Dean deadpanned, “Yes,” at the same time Sam perked up across the room, “Nope!”

“Fine then, you can share the bed with her. I’m not getting kicked all night.” Dean rubbed a phantom ache in his side, like all those slumber parties you’d had as kids had permanently damaged his hip. The jump from fondness to good-natured bullying had always been easy for him.

You scoffed, but you were by nature a terrible liar. The arms you’d crossed so confidently only made you less convincing. “Pfft. I don’t kick in my sleep. Since when do I kick in my sleep?”

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. Being victim to their Winchester telepathy was not nearly as fun as being a part of it, you decided.

“I don’t kick!” You insisted, throwing down your fists. Chief’s keys rattled in your hand.

“Of course not,” Sam used his calm lawyer voice, and shuffled to hide his sarcasm behind his laptop, “you don’t toss, turn, or punch either. I’ve never lost a tooth sharing a sleeping bag with you before.”

“That was one time, Samuel,” you groaned, which was Dean’s cue to gently take you by the shoulders, put a winter hat on your head and maneuver you outside, so Sam’s sarcasm didn’t cost him his life. “We were nine. Nine, you ass! Quit laughing! It was already loose!” You flailed and yelled around Dean, whose shoulders shook while he fought you out the door. Sam’s evil smile just spurred you on. “I’m not afraid of taking another one, motherfu—!”

Dean safely deposited you on the stoop, waved at you through the crack in the frame, and cheerily warned, “Don’t get hypnotized!”

You caught it before it could fully shut on his and Sam’s roaring laughter, squinting. “Y’know, if neither of you wants to get kicked so bad,” (“So she admits it!” Sam cried), “why don’t I get my own bed, and you two knuckleheads share?”

“No way in hell,” Dean’s nose scrunched, “Sam snuggles.”

With that, he closed the door. After a moment of rubbing your cheeks, which ached at how hard you’d been smiling, you tugged the hat down over your face and sighed. Boys.

Dean was only 85% worried when ____ called, so instead of driving straight to the lake to get her, he very cooly shoved on his boots, power walked to Baby, jammed the key in the ignition, and waited with pricked ears while Sam answered her. He could tell by the pace that she was responding that she’d gotten a vision; afterward, the way out of her head was always sluggish. It made Dean antsy. Once or twice he hadn’t been there when she’d fainted, and she’d been cold-cocked by the edge of the tub or the floor. He imagined ____ on the end of Bill Carlton’s dock, tipping sideways into the black water…

“She okay?” Dean put conscious effort into unclenching his jaw and peered out the Impala’s window at his brother.

Sam nodded, and walked in an idle circle while ____ explained what she’d seen to him over the phone. A car rolled past on the street, so Sam covered one ear and muttered something to her. He told her what they’d found: six more people had drowned in the lake in the last thirty-five years, on top of the three victims they already had, one of whom being Andrea’s husband. The memory of the article’s picture punched uncomfortably into Dean’s train of thought. Lucas, wrapped in a towel and robbed like a grave. That poor kid… One moment, you’re swimming with your father who tries so hard to save time for you, and in the next, every minute you could ever share with him is dragged under the current.

Lucas was on a floating wooden platform for the next two hours, waiting to be rescued. Two hours of waiting to drown. Two hours of hoping your dad’s not a corpse at the bottom of the lake. Jesus.

Dean knew they had to question him next, but he had no clue what Lucas could even give. He didn’t want to break the kid. All he could do was hold out for something in your vision.

Eventually, Sam climbed into the passenger's seat, tucking his phone into his coat. “Our lake spirit’s a kid, like she thought—a little boy, but she couldn’t get a name. Just a face and a motive. He was drowned in the lake a couple decades ago.”

“How?” Dean asked.

“She thinks two of his bullies were playing a prank on him,” Sam’s frown seeped its way from his face and into the rest of his body.“They were holding him under the water, and…”

“Damn kids,” Dean cursed in agreement. “Those two are gonna be full-grown adult liars now. No wonder this spirit’s gunning for them—I’d be pissed too, getting messed up by some middle schoolers.”

“We should be careful,” Sam insisted. “Anyone could’ve killed him. But I still have questions. Like, why is the spirit escalating? It goes from one kill once every eight years, and now three in one?”

“In the winter, too,” Dean hummed. He glanced down the street, where the white November sun had replaced the golds of summer and fall. All of the victims but Sophie Carlton had been killed when the water was warmest and more people were out swimming. “Pattern change. Can’t be good.”

____ had agreed over the phone to meet them at the park, where they could question Lucas and his mother. Dean didn’t feel great about it, but maybe with ____ there, this could be handled delicately. Since they were little, they’d had an agreement that Dean finished off the rough stuff and she handled all the emotional blowback. They were symbiotic; she kept them together, and Dean kept them alive. He aimed the Impala toward the park, and relaxed when familiar steel blue metal winked at him from the rear-view mirror.

The park was emptier than usual because of the cold, but from the street Dean could still hear ringing playground laughter echoing in all directions. ____ pulled up next to them, and a couple of the adults swiveled to look as the Chief and the Impala shut off in unison. A tingle of pride melted through his chest. Peas in a pod. When she pulled off her helmet and smiled that warm, quiet way that she always did, the chokehold worry had on Dean slipped a bit. They were good.

“There’s Lucas and Andrea,” Sam exhaled, nodding to the playground. He dipped into the backseat to collect their Wildlife Services disguises, but before he could pass them out, he stilled, leaning into the Impala’s door. “Y’know…”

Dean glanced at ____, but she was already looking at him, just as curious to see what miraculous connection Sam had formed. It made Dean think of the jenglot they’d hunted in September, before Sam had come along, when he and ____ had chased each other’s tails trying to figure out what it was they were even hunting. Another week to figure out any sort of weakness. She was better with her Gift and Dean preferred asking questions on the ground—both of them weren’t great with reading-heavy research. Sam slotted neatly in between them this way.

“You said the lake felt finite,” Sam clarified, turning to her. He opened his mouth like he was going to explain what such a big, scholar-boy word meant to G.E.D Dean, who shut him up with a punch to the arm.

“Yeah…” ____ said. At this, she tilted her head toward Dean, “Before I got my vision, I was just feeling around the water for anything I could get. The spirit… well, in general, they’re supposed to feel sort of immortal. Sometimes really, really old spirits can feel a bit like they’re fading away, but this kid… he was only drowned like thirty years ago. It just stuck out to me,” her voice lost some of its vigor, “it felt like he only had so much time left.”

Sam snapped his fingers. “This spirit is connected to the lake. And if the lake’s draining, and they’ve opened the spillway—”

The answer knocked Dean over the head. “...Lake’s gonna be dry in a few months. He’s running out of time to get his revenge. Fuck.”

“Fuck indeed,” ____ sighed. Her face melted into determined motorcycle steel. “Sophie Carlton is not gonna be our last victim. We gotta work fast—whoever killed our spirit, they don’t have much time left to run.”

“Alright then.” At that, Dean tossed his leather jacket into the backseat, tugged on his Wildlife disguise, and bowed at the waist, gesturing ____ toward the park with a cocky smile. “Let’s get to work. Ladies first.”

She narrowed her eyes, and the wind seemed to blow a little harder. “I thought you were going to question Lucas?”

Sam gave her a funny look, and she gave him a funnier, sterner look right back. It reminded Dean a little of himself. While Sam’s independence had captured him at age thirteen, ____ had never really lost the need to emulate Dean. Her favorite jacket was Dean’s vintage bomber, the one he wore all the time when he was fifteen, and she loved his music and repeated his jokes. It was fuckin’ adorable. Even if it scared the hell out of Dean—he emulated John in all those ways, too. So maybe it was a little hypocritical of him to tell her, “You’re the motherly one. I figured that was your rodeo.”

____ laughed at him, that bubbly girl laugh that never failed to remind him that she was one of the most terrifying hunters he’d ever met. She kept that terrifying hunter smile on him, blinking at him with a murderous gleam in her eyes. “Who the hell do I even mother?”

Dean indicated Sam, which, predictably, grossed ____ out and made Sam seep further into the background of the conversation. “Ew. No. Sam is like... my co-parent.”

God. She made this too easy for him. “So… your husband?”

Sam and ____ made a point to not look at each other, which was hilarious. Dean thought they were very good at looking at each other. They did it all the time, conveniently when the other was looking somewhere else, and Dean always got a kick out of it. But the way Sam scratched at his neck made Dean pause; ____ was looking away and Sam was looking away, both deeply ashamed and choking it down like rotten food.

He’d wondered about that, before they’d picked up Sam. When they were little, she and Sam played house in the Proctor attic, pretending to be boyfriend and girlfriend or a little married couple, bustling around their toy kitchen. They’d kiss each other on the cheeks and everything. But her and Dean? He’d push her in the creak and she’d beat his ass with a plastic lightsaber. Two distinct relationships there. And even as early as then, Dean could sense that distinction. For a while it was just a cutesy joke—Bobby called it puppy love. But then they’d gone to the same school junior year, and Sam’s prom date had ditched him and the Gift had scared ____’s away. Neither of them had made it clear what had happened then, but afterward they found any excuse to touch each other’s hands or whisper to each other when they thought Dean was asleep. That was around the time when they became so good at looking at each other.

Sam leaving had gutted her and Dean, but in profoundly different ways. Dean had lost his purpose and she had sacrificed everything else. A year into it, they’d been driving to a hunt in Indiana and she’d started talking about anything and everything in the car. Maybe this one’s a salt n’ burn, Dean. The weather’s not too bad today, Dean. Sam’s got a girlfriend, Dean, did you know that? It’d flooded out of her under a great big pile of nothing, but Dean wasn’t stupid. ____ was relieved, grateful, and happy—genuinely happy for him, because of course she was—and totally, helplessly heartbroken.

She’d said she’d gotten over it. But she was a shit liar, and she was exactly like Dean.

The hour before they’d seen Sam had been grave for both of them. Dean had been scared shitless, and she’d comforted him through a void of nothing, floating in this purgatory headspace where nothing was wrong and nothing had changed. When she’d psychically read Sam again for the first time in two years, Dean wondered how much of what she’d shown him was real. Now, Sam’s deadly silence made Dean feel like metal on sensitive teeth. He was furious and half-dead with grief for Jessica, but now Dean understood that he was ripping himself apart with shame, and above all else, terror.

Sam was a faithful guy—endlessly, endlessly faithful. But they were still so good at looking at each other.

“I’ll cover the kid,” Dean said.

“We’ll talk to Andrea,” Sam agreed, and that was that.

Somehow, Dean found it in himself to talk to Lucas. He put on a big, goofy grin, asked how Lucas was doing, played with his army men, while the kid didn’t once lift his head from his coloring paper. A swarm of children giggled and shrieked all around them. But Lucas was quiet, with a vastness to his silence that said so much and yet so little. Dean scrounged up a joke about chicks digging artists. Andrea, ____, and Sam were watching them from a distance. Lucas’s art was splayed on the bench he was drawing on, a half-dozen pages of black swirling lines and red bicycles that dug into the paper.

(Sam used to draw with crayons like this. Dean always had to steal yellows from school for him, cause he ground them into the paper so hard that they’d wear down to nubs. He could never tell what the kid was drawing—Sam always used the yellow construction paper, too. Eyes, maybe?)

Lucas said nothing to him. Dean asked if he could draw with him, and took Lucas’ lack of reaction for a yes. He hoped he wasn’t scaring the kid, hoped he was even an inch like the guy ____ emulated for so long, and pried more with compliments to Lucas’ art and jokes about Dean’s own impressive ability. He reached—tried to say something sympathizing, empathizing about Lucas’s dad and what Dean had seen at his age. It didn’t land.

“Anyway.” Dean cleared his throat. Everything he said felt clunky and wrong, like he was a parody of a good adult comforting a child. He mimicked the soft turn of Sam’s eyebrows and how soothing ____’s voice got. “Well, maybe you don't think anyone will listen to you, or, uh...or believe you. I want you to know that I will. You don't even have to say anything. You could draw me a picture of what you saw that day, with your dad, on the lake. Whatever’s easy for you.”

Lucas didn’t lift his head. Still, Dean held out the coloring pad he’d borrowed. “You’re a bit better than me at this, but uh, I drew this for you.”

“This is my family,” Dean said. On the green, fibery paper, he’d drawn a row of stick figures on a line. “That's my dad,” a plain stick figure, “that's my mom,” one with long squiggles of hair, “that's my geek brother, our best friend,” two drawn closely together, “and that's me,” then another plain stick figure, but with cool sunglasses on.

Lucas didn’t say anything. Dean tore out the page and set it carefully in Lucas’ line of sight, bid him a friendly and hopeful goodbye, and trudged away like an idiot.

He joined Sam, ____, and Andrea. She didn’t seem like the type to open up about her personal problems to strangers, but Dean’s two weirdos had puppy-dog eyed her into a corner. Standing beside one another, you got the impression Sam and ____ could communicate without a single word. There were two conversations going on: one, where the two were talking calmly with Andrea, and a second, where he and ____ were analyzing the case in glances alone. ____ joked about their Winchester telepathy, but Dean had always thought they had some funky mind-meld thing going on.

“Lucas hasn't said a word, not even to me. Not since his dad's accident,” Andrea trailed off as he approached.

“I’m so sorry,” ____ said. She played with her hands, looking for rings to twist that weren’t there and hiding her palm flat to her pocket. Despite how demure she tried to appear, there was this severeness to her that made her seem like someone you shouldn’t mess with. Or maybe that was just Dean’s bias; she looked tough. “I can’t imagine, on top of everything…”

Andrea nodded without much thought. Sam furrowed his brow. “What are the doctors saying?”

“It’s a kind of post-traumatic stress,” Andrea sighed, pressing her lips together. She wore a long scarf in the cold, and her hair was wrapped underneath it to keep her warm.

“That can’t be easy,” Dean dropped his hands into his pockets.

“We moved in with my dad. He helps out a lot,” Andrea assured, a bit of a smile coming into her face. It was gone as fast as it appeared, and she gazed out at the playground, where Lucas was. “It's just… when I think about what Lucas went through, what he saw…”

____ visibly leaned closer. But Andrea paused, something heavy weighing on her mind, and Dean looked back at Lucas too. He was a lot like how Sam had been back then, walking around with this fog of silence clinging to him. “Kids are strong,” Dean tried not to look at his brother, “You’d be surprised what they can deal with.”

Come to think of it, ____ had periods of that too. But that had been after Ray, and her Gift, so maybe all Dean knew about kids was what tragedy did to them. It was fresh to Andrea, who brightened with bittersweet nostalgia. “You know, he used to have such life. He was hard to keep up with, to tell you the truth. Now he just sits there. Drawing those pictures, playing with those army men. I just wish—”

Andrea cleared her throat. “Hey, sweetie!”

Everyone was looking to Dean’s right. He did the same, almost bumping into Lucas, who hovered in his shadow, a sentinel. A single piece of drawing paper was extended to him. “Thanks,” Dean accepted the gift, surprised, “thanks, Lucas.”

His mission complete, Lucas marched away. Dean’s gaze swiveled up, first catching Andrea’s delight, impressed by him, then Sam, feeling the same. ____’s eyes went passed them all. She studied Lucas carefully, and there was more than just empathy there—familiarity, too.

The art was another crayon drawing, this time of a house on simple white paper. It was kind of like a cabin. The wood was scrubbed a rich forest green in places and brick-red in others, a child’s diagram of a lincoln log house, surrounded on all sides by spindly trees.

Dean recognized it—the green trim, the red roof. This was the Carlton house.

tags: @cookiemumster1 @lacilou @cevans-winchester @leigh70 @seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looou

ask to be added to my taglist!! :D

NEXT PART: dead in the water, p.3

#sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #supernatural reader insert #supernatural rewrite #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #spn #uncouthspn #user uncouth #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #sam winchester imagine

108 notes · View notes

queenoftheworldisdead · 3 years

Text

Teddy

Notes: This is my entry for @pagesoflauren Prompts:

So, this is love” from “So This is Love” by Ilene Woods and Mike Douglas from Cinderella

“Um, you...you fight good.” from Mulan

“This reminded me of you.”

Warnings: 18 +Only, dark themes, Dubious consent due to alcohol consumption, drunken sex, fingering, out door sex

Summary: a corporate event turns into hazy regret

Dark(maybe more grey) CEO Steve x Reader

🐻

Why they decided to hold a corporate event in the middle of the work week was beyond you. But you could only blame yourself for the alcohol consumption you partook in. Your head and body ached. You had taken a few aspirin before getting to work, but it didn't sooth the pains rippling through your body. Last night was a fog that you could barely piece together, but you weren't worried. You had made it home safe and your office mates had not blown up your phone with anything salacious.

You frowned at the continuous slowed traffic at your cubical when you approached. When you spotted the source you were surprised. A sweet little box with an oversized bow sat on top of your keyboard with a tiny little note. Your coworkers all past your station giggling amongst themselves as they spied it. You felt the heat of all the attention permeate your face as you rushed to stash it away.

Taking your seat before your monitor you hid the parcel. You waited patiently until you felt no one was paying you any mind. Had someone miss placed this? Curious you read the note. “This reminded me of you.” Flipping it over no name.

You untie the bow and opened it carefully.

"Did you like it?" Steve's sudden voice made you bristle.

You fumble with the box, dropping it, spilling the contents as he leaned on your cubical wall.

"Um sorry?" you looked at him confused.

"I was thinking of getting rid of this thing, but now"

he scratched at his beard as you wrinkled your brow at him. His name was called before he could clarify his point. The distraction pulled him away, but not before he shot you a sly wink.

That was strange.

With him away you reached down to pick up the fallen gift. You rose slowly lifting a new coffee mug, turning it you see a yellow cartoon teddy bear smiling at you.

Your eyes grew round as a flood of memories drowned you. Flashes of the night before filled in gaps you had brushed off until now.

🐻

The night before

You were an expert at avoiding company events, but when the email read mandatory you groaned. The biannual event was a must for all employees foreign and domestic.

You didn't hate your company, you actually loved it. Everyone was friendly, it was a stark contrast to the cut throat companies you were used to. It was just that social events made you feel painfully awkward.

The venue was massive. Every odd person asked which office you worked in and what department you belonged to. You smiled and made short talk as you searched for a place to hide until the event was over. It was very draining, being an introvert you could only handle so much social interaction.

The corporate sponsored libations helped get you through the most part. Snatching a drink from every waiter that passed with a tray. It was an easy, trick gulp down the glass then motion to the empty cup before departing the group signaling you are going to find more. An easy out that had you buzzed, but you felt as though you were holding together well. When you found your hiding spot you breathed easier, taking the seat hidden behind a column, you played with your phone until the event whined down.

"Hey your in accounting right?"

You looked up from the phone to find John Walker. He smiled softly, slipping into the empty seat next to you. "Oh no, sorry.."

"Why are you hiding away by yourself?" He cut you off. You reached for your half empty flute and took a big gulp. Swallowing it down before tapping the glass, signaling your exit just as he began to crowd you into the corner space.

"How do you like it here?" He asked you another question stifling your exit. You could feel his breath on your face as you tried to lean away, but his arm stretched out pulling you closer.

A yelp escaped your lips when his other hand found your thigh. You don't want to cause a scene, but you want him to give you space. Your hiding space was too good. No one noticed or cared that you were trapped by a fellow colleague. "I need to-"

John pulled you down when you tried to stand and excuse yourself. "Hey" the scent of his drink finally hit your nose. "You cant leave before we cheers." His grip on you felt so firm that you worried if you upset him, his smile seemed strained and his eyes roamed you uncomfortably. John suddenly lifted the hand from your shoulder and snapped his fingers in the air, signaling a server to bring more drinks to the table. "One more drink huh? Bad luck not to cheers with everyone you know?"

You gripped your phone so hard you felt it imprint on your palm. You just wanted to go home. When the serve dropped the glasses John pushed one at you. To appease him you took it. Maybe he would leave after this. He raised his glass and you did the same. "To a fruitful quarter."

You murmured and repeated him. The glasses clinked before you both took a drink. This drink hit you harder than before, but you chugged it down anyway.

When John finished his glass he cloaked you. His eyes filled with a hunger that had you leaning further back into the back of your chair. He kept coming so close no matter how you shifted in your seat to gain distance. "Please I need to go home" you begged as he roamed up your skirt.

When his eyes bulged you were confused before you felt relief. John fell away from you, hitting the floor hard as a hulk of a man appeared standing over him. John did not appreciate it, hopping to his feet. You tried to stand yourself, but the room spun and swayed with such force you fell back on your seat. John and your savior blurred as you try to focus. You squinted as John pushed back on the stranger only to find his chin connecting with a right hook. His body fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes as you watched everything in slow motion.

It was so surreal seeing John laid out. You looked up to see the founder standing above him. Steve Rogers was the man behind the knockout punch. You snorted, laughing loudly at the ridiculousness. There was no way you saw that correctly.

He turned his attention to you, mouthing words at you, but you couldn't understand them. People began to crowd around John and your table. You were becoming the center of attention and that filled you with an urge to escape.

"I want to go home." You whimpered lowly, as you found it hard to move with so many people around. You reached your limit, there were too many eyes, too many voices, you felt trapped yet again.

"Where do you live?" His voice cut through everyone else. It sounded so concerned yet sweet it set you at ease. You slurred out the destination as he helped you up from the seat.

He felt so warm, firm and safe that you couldn't help, but cuddle into his side as he guided you out.

Your eyes started to feel heavy as your body floated along. “Um, you...you fight good.” you blurted out making him chuckle. "Thank you" you slurred out the complement. Your yawn muffled his response as your eyes closed and you slipped into sleep.

🐻

Your head lolled on the back of the leather seat as a chill nipped at your body. "It's too cold" you groaned missing the warmth that sent you to slumber.

"I miss warm" you whined tilting your head to the side, squinting at the blurry blob that resembled the sun. You reached out to find the source of warmth, but got jerked back by a restraint, you grumbled and frowned when you found a seat belt.

"Hey sleepy head." It sounded like Mr.Rogers. You had heard his voice many times over many corporate calls and monthly meetings, but that was preposterous. There was no way the high powered CEO was talking to you.

"Give me warm" you whined again, your eyes still heavy as you tried to focus on their face. You attempted once more to reach your hand out, this time your finger tips clumsily grazed over a nose before trailing up to gelled hair. "Oop. Watch it you almost blinded me there." He laughed lightly as the car swerved a bit. "Ok ok settled down I'll turn on the AC." The click and whoosh of the heater elevated the chill a bit.

"Sorry I run a little hot. Does this help?"

You hummed with delight as a warm hand reached out to glide up and down your thigh in comforting strokes. Your fingers played in the sleeked geld locks. Your thighs absorb the warmth of his hand as he kneaded your skin.

"You have arrived at your destination" the robotic voice announced.

"Yay!" Clapping your hands together ready to go to bed.

"Don't like parties huh?"

"I like home better." You yawned still very tired.

"Yeah me too" he agreed as the warm hand in your lap left. You whimpered in disappointment as a car door opened and closed. You stayed lazy sat in place too tired to move, closing your eyes welcoming sleep once again.

"Come on let's get you home." He grunted as he reached over you, waking you slightly. The smell of his cologne filled your nose as you heard the distinct click of your seat belt and feel of the strap slide away.

"Who are you?" You genuinely inquired.

He pulled you from the seat and stood you up against the car. Your body sagged, but he kept you standing. "Don't remember me, huh?" He huffed dragging you out. "Steve. Steve Rogers." He told you as he tried to keep you steady while closing the door.

"Your face is soo fluffy" you giggled as you grabbed at his beard. "No! Your not Steve! Your teddy" you dubbed shouting at him, cupping his face as you brought him closer. "You feel so good teddy."

"You think so?" Steve chuckled excepting his new nickname.

Stepping closer he pressed his weight on you and chuckled, boxing you between him and the car. "Fluffy teddy bear man" you giggled again as his cologne once again invaded your nose.

"You smell good too" you confessed as he leaned closer. His lips tilted into a devilish grin as you leaned forward to inhale along his neck. His strong hands held your hips before squeezing when you licked at him. "Tasted good too."

"Bad girl." Steve admonished leaning away from you. "Bad teddy" you frowned, pulling him closer by his blazer. "Keep me warm teddy." You pouted.

"Like that?" Steve questioned as his palms slipped down your waist then road up your thigh. You gasped when he ascended up and under your skirt. You nodded 'yes' allowing his brazened hand to slip into your panties, cupping your mound. The car rocked a bit as he leaned all his weight on you, sinking into you. His bristly beard hairs tickled your neck as you panted wildly into the cold air.

"Do you like how I make you feel?" Steve asked trailing up and over your lips. You moan a 'yes' into his mouth while you pushed into his palm urging him on.

Steve tried to pull his hand from you, but you squeezed your thighs together, not allowing him to retreat. "No teddy don't leave" you begged pouting. Steve smiled at the nickname while plunging deep in your core, curling his digits inside of you.

Your skirt road high off your ass and you felt the chill of the door on your exposed cheeks. You didn't care, you just wanted more. Lifting your leg Steve hooked it around his waist. "I love you teddy" you proclaimed drunk off his touch.

"Oh yeah" he growled in your ear, sending fire down your neck as he kissed you all over. You felt your panties pushed to the side as he pressed his sheathed need on you.

"Ummm mmm" you hummed eager for him to do more. Steve steady you with one hand while his other fumbled with the front of his pants. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and your hips pushed forward. Waiting impatiently you bite your lip giving him a pleading look. "Love you so much teddy."

"So this is love?" Steve swirled his cock in your juices, teasing as he pressed hard along your eagerness. "Don't tease" you slapped at him frowning. "You want teddy to love you?" he groaned pressing his tip hard against your entrance. You nod 'yes' and hiss as his cock slowly stretched you open. You welcomed the strain while another warmth burst from your core. Your fingers tangled in his hair while Steve kissed you passionately. You panted wildly as Steve picked up speed, rutting you against the car door. "So this..." Steve stretched out each word, thrusting into you hard and deep, your slick him thoroughly. You chanted 'yes' allowing him to rut you against the car. Steve's thickness made you quiver. Despite being out in the world it felt as if you were the only two left on earth. "This is love" he sighed pushing as deep as he could go.

The warmth of him exploded all around you, melting you into him deliciously. You dissolved into him, slipping mindlessly into ecstasy.

🐻

#dark steve x black reader #dark!steve x reader #dark!steve x black!reader #dark steve x reader #black writer #pagesoflauren3000challenge

122 notes · View notes

vacant--body · 3 years

Text

MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING: Su!c!de attempt, graphic description of bl00d, mentions of death, medical procedure talk, loss of pregnancy, PTSD, lots and lots of angst, mentions of drinking.

Female!reader, love triangle with Steve and Bucky (kinda?)

Word count: roughly 2,076

Please don't read if any of these warnings will trigger you :)

I'M SO SORRY PLEASE DON'T HATE ME

✿~~~✿~~~✿~~~✿~~~✿

Bucky's eyes snapped open, his advanced hearing honing in on the soft wails coming from down the hall. It was you, it always you. He inhaled sharply and pushed himself out of his warm bed, his dog tags clinking against his bare chest. It gets worse when Steve isn't here; your night terrors. He's the only one that can rock you back to sleep, soothing your tear stained cheeks and calming your raging mind. Bucky isn't very good at it, but he can get the job done.

His door slid open and he walked quietly down the hallway, careful not to wake anybody else up. Tony had to semi soundproof your room. When you first came to live in the compound, your screams would keep everyone up all night. Now only Bucky and Steve could hear your cries, which often made for sleepless nights. But lately it’s been getting better, which he was thankful for. Both for your sake and his sake.

Bucky stopped in front of your door, expecting it to just slide open like it normally does. But it didn't. Confused, he waved his hand in front of the sensor but it didn't budge. "Friday?" He yawned, annoyed. What couldn't Tony just put in normal doors? They're so much simpler. "What's wrong with the door?"

"It seems that Ms. Y/L/N has locked it." Strange. You never lock it.

"Well, unlock it." He snapped back at the AI.

"I cannot. She has over-ridden my capabilities to unlock it."

"What?" Bucky asked, suddenly more awake. The hairs on his arms stood up and a gut wrenching feeling began to churn in his stomach. He could hear you on the other side, still crying. "Y/N!" Bucky yelled pounding on the door. The cries grew harder. "Y/N open the door!"

"Go away!" You screamed. "Just go!" This wasn't a night terror, you were awake. “I don’t need you, Bucky!”

"Friday, get Tony down here." Bucky yelled, pounding on the door again. "Y/N please just open the door! Let me help!"

"Don't need your help." There was the sound of the bathtub starting up. "Just go."

"Bucky,” A tired voice groaned from behind him. Sam. "It's 2:30 in the morning, why in the hell are you screaming."

"Y/N locked us out." He muttered, pressing his ear against the door. He could hear you whimpering on the other side. "Friday can't open it."

"Friday, get Tony-"

"He is on his way." She replied back. "Ms. Y/N also disabled her cameras. I can't see inside there either."

"Y/N!" Bucky tried again, his voice cracking just enough for him to notice. Hopefully not enough for Sam to notice.

"Does someone wanna tell me why I am down here in the middle of the god damn night?" Another voice said behind them.

"Just get the fucking door open." Bucky snarled. Tony took note of the worry and urgency in his voice and unlatched a panel that was next to the door. He moved some wires around and the door hissed open.

Bucky rushed in and the state of your room hit him like a truck. It was a wreak. Your mattress was halfway off of its frame, your dresser was knocked over with all the clothes torn out, and there was a smashed chair in the corner. You had also punched out your mirror, making Bucky's footsteps crunch as he walked through her room. How did he not hear this? Why didn't he wake up? But that's not what bothered Bucky. His nose instantly picked up on a coppery smell that stung the inside of his nostrils, making him instantly nauseous. He pushed into the bathroom, where somehow the cupboard was shoved in front of.

The sight before him was enough to make him cry and vomit at the same time. You were submerged in the bathtub, the water stained a bright red color. A long shard of glass from the mirror was laying on the floor, stained with your crimson blood. Two deep long cuts had been carved into your forearms. The ringing in his ears slowly subsided and he heard the sound of either Tony or Sam dry heaving behind him. He wasn't sure who it was.

"Friday, prep medical bay. Get Banners ass up. Now." He heard Tony growl.

Bucky sunk to his knees, his sweatpants become stained with the blood soaked water that had sloshed over the edge. "Y/N." He muttered. She was pale. Too pale. "Y/N!" He yelled grabbing her by the shoulders. “Open your fucking eyes and look at me!" You didn't open her eyes, the only movement was coming from your chest. You were taking quick short breaths, which Bucky figured wasn't good. "Please don't do this to me, please. I need you, fuck-" He choked back a sob.

"Buck, we have to get her down to-" Before Sam could finish his sentence, Bucky was lifting you out of the water and took off towards the med bay.

Banner was already down there, a suturing kit already laid out. "How much blood has she lost?" He asked immediately as soon as Bucky came barreling through the doorway.

"A lot." Was all he could manage. He carefully laid you down on the cot. His thoughts were going a mile a minute. You were supposed to be getting better. Sam and Banner were supposed to be helping you, the therapy was supposed to be helping. Not killing you. Why wasn’t it helping? Why were you so selfish? How could you do that to us? To me, to Steve. To this whole team?

"Well good thing most of the team is A Positive so we have some on standby for her." Banner said. Bucky wasn't sure if he was talking to him or to himself.

Banner flushed out your wounds with what looked like water, and carefully began to stitch you up. Bucky noticed the slight shaking in his wrist and he pulled your skin together.

"Where is Steve?" Bucky whispered to Tony, not taking his eyes off of Y/N and Banner. For once, you looked like you were at peace. Your features were smoothed and relaxed, nothing like your previous state.

"His teams on their way back. ETA 4 hours." Tony whispered back.

A heavy silence fell over the med bay. Bucky felt drained. He couldn't keep his thought straight in his head, and it was numbing. He just kept asking the same thing. Why? You were doing so good. You were laughing, smiling, and actually making progress to talk to people outside your comfort zone. Of course you were still having night terrors, Sam said those wouldn't go away for a long time. But other than that you were fine. You said you were fine. He couldn't understand why.

Banner was done with one side. He moved over to the other and began to repeat the process, but one of the machines she was hooked up to began beeping rapidly. His head snapped up and his brows furrowed.

"Friday do a full body scan please." He grunted.

"What? What's wrong?" Bucky pleaded, his skin tightening and his stomach doing loops.

"Blood pressure is dropping. Not good." Was all he heard over the several machines firing at once.

"There is hemorrhaging. Location: uterus." Friday said back. "Surgery is recommended."

Banner quickly finished the last of the sutures and yanked your water and blood soaked sweatpants off. There was a large amount of blood pooling in between your legs.

"Bruce what is that?" Bucky yelled rushing over to them. "What's wrong with her, did she stab herself there?" He felt like he was going to vomit.

"Bucky-" He started as he fumbled with some tubing.

"What are you doing to her?!" Bucky yelled again his voice become more and more distressed. "You're gonna kill her please help her!"

"Tony get him the hell out of here!" Banner screamed finally, the Hulks voice peaking behind his anger and frustration.

Bucky was being yanked out of the bay by Sam and Tony. He could fight back easily, fight them off so he could be with you. But his legs were so shaky he could hardly stand on his own two feet. The windows that looked into the bay dimmed and Bucky caught one last look as Banner yanked down Y/N's underwear. A sob escaped from Buckys lips as he crumpled to the ground. What was happening now? Y/N must be so scared. He was so scared.

He felt that hot tears prick at his cheeks and dribbled down into his beard hair. He was crying. Crying for the first time in who knows how long. He couldn't loose you. You were the only one who truly understood Bucky. You meant too much to him.

"Buck-" Sam started but Bucky just cut him off.

"Leave me alone." He sobbed. It felt like a metal pipe had been shoved down Buckys throat. He couldn’t breathe. "Please just go away." Tony and Sam shared a look before the disappeared down the hallway.

He sat there for what seemed like days. But it was only hours. Soon enough Steve came jogging down the hallway to where Bucky sat.

"Buck." Steve gasped, kneeling down next to him. "What happened?"

"I thought she was having a night terrors." Bucky's voice was raw and it hurt to swallow. The crying must have stopped hours ago, but he couldn't remember when it ended. "But she locked me out. Tried to...tried to..."

"Oh god." Steve whimpered, understanding what he was saying. “Is she...?" Bucky shook his head.

"She started bleeding. I think Banners still doing surgery." Steve's face was screwed tightly together as he stood back up. Bucky couldn't tell what he was feeling. He paced the hallway for a bit before he slid down against the wall across from Bucky, his eyes blankly staring at the door. He could see the trembling in his chest when he inhaled.

They sat there in silence for about another hour, when suddenly, the doors to the med bay swung open. Banners eyes fell on them. He sighed heavily and put his hands in his pockets.

"What? What is it?" Bucky pleaded getting to his feet, which caused Steve to stand up.

"Is she okay?" Steve asked, his brows closely knit together.

"Yeah. She's stable. Woke up for a few minutes but she's sleeping now. I had to give her some medicine to calm her down. And I had to..." He trailed off. "Restrain her. She's very agitated." Bruce exhaled and wrung his hands together.

"Then what happened? Why did you have to do surgery." Bucky prodded. He could tell Banner was hiding something.

"The bleeding was caused by a mixture of shock and her blood pressure tanking. I couldn't-" He cleared his throat like he was keeping back tears. "I couldn't save the fetus. She miscarried."

It felt like someone had punched Bucky in the gut. Fetus? Miscarried? She was pregnant?

"From what I could tell she was about 15 weeks along. I ran the DNA because I wasn't...I wasn't sure who the father was."

"I had a child?" Steve whimpered. Tears were falling freely down his face.

"No, Steve.” He whispered softly. “Bucky, it was yours.”

"What? No. That's impossible." Steve scoffed. "You must have your science shit mixed up. There is no way."

"No, he's right." Bucky whispered, absolute shocking talking grip of his body.

"I'm sorry. It was a boy."

"What? No. No! It's wrong. Go test it again Banner! I know it's wrong!"

"Steve-"

"You were fucking her?!" Steve screamed, turning to Bucky. "You knew I was in love with her and you were fucking her?!"

"It was once Steve! Almost 3 months ago! We were drunk and you were away on a mission and I came onto her!" Bucky bargained, staring into the flames of his best friend’s eyes.

"You fucked my girl! My girl!" Steve was irate, barely able to contain himself.

"She isn't yours Steve, you're not even together!"

"I told her that I loved her! And you went and fucked her anyway! What, do you always follow your dick!? I bet that's why she refuses to look at you!"

"No, she told me that she loved me!" Bucky screamed back, his voice echoing in the hallway as silence washed over them. Bucky took a deep breath. "She said it first. And I told her it was a mistake and should be with you." He said quietly.

Steve let out an animalistic growl, and his fist made contact with the side of Bucky's cheek and the back of his head smashed against the wall.

"I love you Bucky." Y/N's soft voice said. Your head was currently buried in Bucky's bare chest. "It's you. It's always has been." You whispered.

Bucky reached down and cupped her cheek, making you look at him. He has been waiting to hear that since they first met. He didn't believe in love at first sight but ever since he first laid eyes on you, he started to believe.

"You don't mean that, doll." He muttered back. Alcohol was still running its course through their bodies. "You're drunk."

"Drunk words are a sober mans thoughts."

"Y/N-"

"I want you Bucky. Just you. No more going back and forth between you and Steve. I can't do that anymore, Bucky. Please believe me." You pleaded, your large eyes staring into his.

"You deserve someone like Steve, not like me. You can't love me." He sighed, letting go of your face.

"I love Steve. He’s amazing and kind, but I love I have for him isn’t like how I love you.”

"No. You love the thought of me." He snapped, rising off the bed. "But you don't love me Y/N. I promise you, you don't. You shouldn't." He gathered his clothes from the floor and shimmied into them. He reached the door and stopped at the sound of your voice.

"But-" Bucky winced at the sound of your voice as it was filling with tears.

"I'm sorry." He whispered turning away, his own eyes brimming with tears. "I don't deserve you. You can't love me. I'm sorry."

part 2

151 notes · View notes

moonbeamwritings · 3 years

Text

of salt water and loving gazes

a sequel to “of salt water and curious gazes”

Summary: Making new friends wasn’t necessarily odd, not by any stretch, but making friends with the merman living off the coast by your new home was markedly more so. As you stared at Jotaro beneath the light of the moon, rocking along the surface of the sea, you realized your feelings for your new companion were far beyond friendship.

A/N: Thank you for all of the kind words on the other part and happy Mermay everybody! ⭐

Your meetings with the mysterious merman quickly became a permanent fixture in your routine. Almost every night, with your belly full of whatever you’d scarfed down for dinner, you would tuck yourself into warm, soft clothes and slip on your sandals to begin the trek down to the beach, guided only by the light of the moon.

It was all so weird - befriending a merman was a difficult thing to process after all, but it hadn’t been entirely unpleasant. You’d touched his tail and he hadn’t tried to drown you, or at least not yet. He was much larger than you were and if he’d wanted to kill you with those sharp teeth or drag you to the murky depths below, he would’ve done it already, you rationalized one evening as you shook the sand from your shoes. Despite his hulking, intimidating form, you felt safe by Jotaro’s side, like he was picked out by some higher power to be your welcomed, albeit unlikely, companion.

And you certainly weren’t falling for the beautiful blue of his eyes or the tiny quirk of his lips when you complained about touching squishy seaweed with your toes. Nope, definitely not.

“Come on,” he coaxed gently, holding two webbed hands out to you with an impassive look, “It’ll be fun.”

“How do I know this isn’t some ploy for you to finally drown me? Send me down to the bottom of the ocean to rot?” You asked jokingly, eyeing him with suspicion.

For some reason, it seemed that Jotaro had deemed this evening to be the perfect time to take you swimming, claiming that the moon was in just the right spot, illuminating the water just enough that it wasn’t entirely black. He knew you hated that.

Your questions sent a laugh bubbling from his chest, dipping his body back below the surface as if to highlight just how harmless he was, to hide his massive shoulders beneath the waves, “If I really wanted to drown you, don’t you think I would’ve done it by now?”

He had a good point, but you weren’t about to let this joke die.

“Mmm,” you feigned thought, tapping a finger against your chin, “I don’t know, Jotaro. Maybe you’ve lulled me into a false sense of security. For all I know, you could’ve tricked me into being your friend precisely to find a new victim.”

A look you’d never seen before crossed his face, his eyebrows scrunching in concern and his lips frowning for a fraction of a second before returning to his usual indifference. You hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings. He had to know that you were only teasing, right? Maybe you’d taken it just a step too far.

“I wouldn’t do that to you. You know that.” His response was short, resolute as he raised his arms from the water, holding his hands out once again.

You sighed, regret bubbling in your stomach. What a stupid comment to make to a new friend. “I know.”

A beat of silence.

“I’m sorry.”

He shook some of the water from his hands, seemingly impatient as he waited for you to decide what to do. “It’s alright, I know you didn’t mean it like that. You know, you don’t actually have to come out here if you don’t want to.”

You looked between him and the moon, admiring the way he seemed to glow where he swam. The water did look inviting and Jotaro even more so, lingering there with his arms outstretched. Clothes could always be washed, you thought.

Stripping off your sweater to reveal your t-shirt and shorts, you nodded. “I want to.”

“You sure?”

Without a second thought, you agreed, reaching your hands out to grip at his shoulders before you slipped into the water. He kept his own securely at your waist, ensuring that you wouldn’t drift off.

“Not so bad, right?” He asked, chuckling a bit before using his tail to guide you both through the water, setting a leisurely place over the waves.

“It’s freezing.” Came your immediate, disgruntled response, marked by slight tremors in your tone as your teeth chattered. You kicked your own feet in an attempt to warm your body, but it was as if your bones had already frozen solid.

“Just stay close to me,” Jotaro assured. “Or,” he continued, beginning a half-hearted descent beneath the waves, “I could dunk you? That’d warm you up pretty quick.”

You clung to him even tighter, scrambling to move up his body as he shifted, “Don’t you dare.”

You felt his chest rumble with a laugh, adjusting your position so more of your body was above the surface again and as it continued, you couldn’t help but join him, falling into your own laugh as you swam. He really did have a cute laugh, you thought, and it was nice to see him smile so openly. Damn him and his perfect, well, everything.

Perfection aside, being able to spend time with him in his element, drifting in the sea as the smell of salt invaded your nose, was something you wouldn’t trade for anything. There was a quiet intimacy to the moment that you couldn’t quite place, but you allowed it to settle, warming your heart and cheeks in the process.

As silence fell between the two of you, you felt your bones begin to loosen, skin warming thanks to his body heat. You continued to warm up as you felt his chest press flush against yours, so close that the two of you were nearly nose to nose. Lost in his eyes, you watched as his gaze flickered from yours to your lips and back again as he leaned just a fraction of an inch closer. It was as if you were both teetering on the edge of a cliff, waiting with bated breath for something to just... happen. The moment was broken by the sound of him clearing his throat, pulling away from you as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Had you been imagining it or had he almost kissed you? Why hadn’t he?

Heat rushed to your face as questions swirled in your mind, a wild storm of what-ifs and missed chances. An arm’s length away, you began to tread water on your own, needing a minute to just breathe.

The strange new energy dissipated quickly, Jotaro diving into a story about the adventure he and his friends had gone on in your absence during the day to distract you, or maybe himself - you couldn’t tell.

The merperson lifestyle always a little lost on you, but you did your best to follow along. Surely, he had no idea what you meant by a cell phone or what grocery stores were really like, so you could cut him some slack as he went into detail about stands - whatever those were - and the intricacies of sea urchin collecting.

You wondered what he was really like beneath the waves as he traveled with his friends. Was he less talkative? Or more? What did his language sound like to those who were fluent in it? Did they think he was crazy for speaking to you? Did they even know?

A splash of water landed right against your face, salt water burning your eyes as it hit you.

Bastard.

“Hey, are you even listening?” He accused, teasing smile resting just about the water’s surface.

“Of course, I am,” you fired back with a smile of your own. “Now tell me everything.”

You and Jotaro continued to talk and idly swim as the moon rose higher in the sky, cold limbs long since forgotten in favor of floating your way along the waves as you chatted with him. It was as easy as breathing, being beside him and feeling the sloshing of the sea beneath your shoulders.

Moments like these reminded you of your grandmother and the gentle words that lingered in your head whenever you took your seat at the end of the jetty. Jotaro, and the great expanse of the ocean itself, left you feeling lighter with each visit, like your problems were just a single drop and nothing more. Spending time with Jotaro was easy and you weren’t sure if you could ever find the words to tell him.

“This is nice.” You spoke, tipping back to allow the water to lap at your hair as you took in the pale light of the moon.

Jotaro’s eyes hadn’t left your form for what felt like an eternity, hypnotized by the way you moved, by the goosebumps across the expanse of your skin - by you. With the near-kiss weighing heavily on his mind, he finally turned away, dipping below the surface of the water to collect his thoughts.

You had accepted him, so wholeheartedly that it nearly made him dizzy. With a single, tentative smile and a brush of your fingers against his fluke on that first fateful night, you’d hooked him in and he knew he’d ever be able to stop coming back. Jotaro also knew though, just how dangerous it was to spend so much time around humans, but he simply couldn’t help it. You were like a shimmering pearl, a precious gem that he couldn’t bear to lose.

And now, with your body closer to his than it had ever been before, a realization came racing to the forefront of his mind. His feelings for you went beyond friendship, beyond harmless nights spent splashing water or trading seashells.

Jotaro loved you.

Righting yourself to turn back towards Jotaro, you panicked. The horizon around you was empty, save for docked boats and a lighthouse far off in the distance.

“Jotaro?” You called frantically, spinning around in the water in a desperate search for the dark-haired merman, “Jotaro!?”

Your muffled calls sent him reeling back to the surface, pulling one of your hands into his own. He watched as you jumped about a mile in the air before you sprung at him, latching your arms around his neck. “I’m right here.”

“God,” you huffed, breath ghosting over his ear, “Don’t do that. Leaving me out here all alone like a worm on a hook, flailing around like an idiot.”

“Sorry.”

Without thinking, his arms wrapped around your waist, rubbing a reassuring hand along the small of your back. You relished in the feeling for a few moments before leaning back, face mere inches from his own, noses and lips nearly touching.

He was breathtaking like this; hair dripping with water that caught the light of the stars just so, body covered in droplets that shone like crystals. His eyes were rendered even more beautiful with your proximity, a deep turquoise littered with little flecks of blue.

You could just lean in and-

His lips crossed the distance with ease, pressing up against yours as if he had been reading your mind. The kiss was sweet, clumsy and a little too salty, but still managing to send your heart stuttering in your chest all the same. Jotaro supported you both, keeping you afloat with his tail as your arms trailed back around his neck, fingers threading in his wet hair. He kept his hands on your back, clutching your shirt in each fist.

Feeling breathless, you pulled away to rest your forehead against his, a grin beginning to spread across your face. Jotaro swore he’d never seen you so happy. The twinkle in your eyes had him tugging at your waist, twirling you around in the water before pulling you in for another kiss. This one was just as clumsy as the first, a goofy mess of teeth and lips as you struggled to suppress your smiles.

With one final peck, Jotaro pulled away to take a breath, revealing one of the cutest blushes you’ve ever seen. You rushed to bring your hands to his face, cradling his cheeks in your palms as if to savor the moment, to make his flush last that much longer.

“I’m in love with you.” His words came out in a flurry, a sharp contrast to his low, unwavering tone. He was nervous. As if now, after everything, his admission would scare you away.

“I’m in love with you too.” You replied, rubbing a thumb along his smooth, wet cheekbone.

“This doesn’t...” he cut himself off to gesture vaguely at his tail with his eyes, “it doesn’t bother you?”

“I wouldn’t be here right now if it did, right?”

He smiled at that, bringing his lips down to connect with your hairline. “Mm, I guess not. Still think I’m gonna drown you?”

The question caught you off guard, a light giggle escaping your throat as you pressed even closer to his chest. You could feel his heartbeat.

“At this point,” you began, running your hands down to hold his shoulders as your eyes met his own, “I wouldn’t really mind if you did.”

Jotaro started to move with the waves again, casually floating on his back with you clinging onto him. “You have to be careful, you know. I am a vicious beast after all.”

You thought about the kisses you’d just shared, about the way he’d held you as if you would break, about his bashful smile and beautiful laugh and that adorable blush.

“Yeah, sure thing, tough guy.”

Your grandmother had always told you that the ocean soothed the soul, acting as a quiet reprieve from the hustle and bustle of your daily life - an escape. Here, in the arms of one of the ocean’s most beautiful creations, you were certain she was right.

#jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro kujo imagine #jotaro x reader #jotaro imagine #jjba x reader #jjba imagine #merperson au #mermaid au #mermay 2021

221 notes · View notes

starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “A Chance.”

A continuation on the Dr. Krill lecture series about humans.

The room was large and echoing, voices raised up towards the ceiling, and despite their being enough room to fit more than three classrooms of the original size, there still wasn’t enough room to fit everyone, with some students standing or sitting off to the side. Cameras had been brought in to observe the lecture, and were being mounted as they watched, so other students from other universities could Audit the lectures.

A group of four students, two Vrul and two Tesraki sat together on the far right of the lecture hall. They had been forced to pair together for another one of their class projects and just ended up naturally gravitating towards what was familiar, sitting next to each other as they waited for the lecture to begin.

“Did you guys finish the assignment?”

“I did.” Of course the two Vrul had, that was to be expected.

The Tesraki looked down at their papers, work halfway finished because they had a tough time from telling what was myth from what was fact.

“Humans, dn not, in fact, cannibalize their young.”

“Where the hell did you hear that.”

“I had an older classmate tell me once, and I saw it in another news article.”

There was muttering, “Even we knew that.”

The other vrul shuffled their papers studiously, “Humans do not have hypnotic gazes that can paralyze their prey.” “Really, I felt for sure that that one was going to be real.”

The Tesraki’s ears drooped, “Well apparently, human stomach acid IS powerful enough to eat through metal.”

There was silence.

“No really, that can’t be true.”

The Tesraki nodded, “It isn’t a myth.” He sighed in frustration, “Everything I looked up about humans was true. Human bones are stronger than steel, the human liver can regenerate, humans can transplant organs from one human to another and it will work. Humans have a system of language that doesn't require the use of noise, it's called sign language by the way.”

One of the Vrul vibrated their antenna, “I am sorry to hear your search did not go well, perhaps if you had read more disreputable news articles it would have been better. Some of the major newspapers have the ability to contact better sources, which means their articles are most likely to be right.”

“Did you know the human jaw is powerful enough to bite off their own fingers, but humans don’t do it because number one, that hurts a lot, and number two, their brain doesn’t allow them to even consider it.”

There was a silence.

“Is that a fact or a myth.”

The other Tesraki sighed, “that is a fact.”

Just then the lights overhead blinked once and then twice. The students turned to look down at the room where Dr. Krill was making his way across the floor. Making his way in that unnatural and predatory way he had. His body moved with a fluid grace in comparison to the normal jerky movements of his species. His legs rolled one after the other in a wheel that kept him moving forward, never breaking. The shoulders on his body swayed slightly back and forth lending the power of his arms into the movement of his legs.

The way he moved his head around the room, seeming to focus on each one of them in turn rather than taking in the whole scene at once was…. Unnerving to say the least his helium sack sat mostly unused against his shoulders and upper back as he moved into the room. Not once since he had started here had anyone seen him use it.

He said it was too slow and made keeping up with humans difficult unless you were being dragged behind them.

It was…. Strange to watch…. How he never seemed to stop moving. Even when he spoke his four hands and his head moved to emphasize his points. When speaking to students coming up to see him, his body shifted in reaction to their words. His hands wide, then closed then open again, up and then down. His chin rose and fell in greeting to people and students he knew and to those he didn’t know so well.

It was a fascinating scene to watch, and one they were not entirely sure if they liked.

Dr Krill made a strange noise deep inside his throat, that over the speakers had the entire class turning to look at him. It was a strange sort of barking cough mixed with a hum. THey couldn’t have known that krill was imitating the way humans clear their throat when they want to speak.

“Students, I hope you all had a good week, and I hope you were all able to complete my first, and easiest assignment?”

There was a soft muttering around the room.

The doctor clapped both of his hands together, producing a sharp noise that brought attention back to himself, “Well, as I have said, today, as a special treat for staying….” He turned to look around the room before muttering, “And multiplying, apparently.” He frowned when none of the students seemed amused at his joke but continued, “I am going to be talking about the human fight flight or freeze response and the entire reaction of the sympathetic nervous system.”

Students withdrew their holopads to begin taking notes.

The cameras zoomed in on doctor Krill.

“We discussed last week how humans are technically considered predator animals, and they are as they eat and consume other animals daily. However, humans are not an apex predator as it isn’t often that they consume other predators. In fact, for the longest time humans were some of the weakest, and easiest to kill preditors for larger and more intimidating animals. In this way that lead to the development of the sympathetic nervous system.”

He turned around the room, and the two Vrul cringed back as his eyes seemed to fall on thim. His antenna were unusually still,

“The sympathetic and parasympathetic systems account for two sides of the same coin. The parasympathetic nervous system is responsible for the workings of the body when the human is relaxed. It focuses primarily on digestion, relaxation slower breathing and even blood flow through the major organs including the eyes. It has other properties too of course, but when a human is relaxed their parasympathetic nervous system is the one generally in charge during those times.”

He turned to the projector, “Now assume you are an ancient human out on your natural habitat of the savanna -- without their adaptation the human’s natural habitat is warm and relatively dry with lots of open grassland and the occasional tree.” he flipped a picture on the projector and the class pulled back a bit in surprise at the picture that unfolded before them. It was a strange creature standing upright tall but remarkably hairy accept for on its face and hands, “This is a 3D rendered recreation of what early humans might have looked like based on skeletal remains found in their fossil record. The development of the human sympathetic nervous system likely started long before humans looked like this, but still the visual aid is one that I find compelling.” The class stared at the creatures thick face, heavy brow and sloping shoulders.

Humans today were much more graceful, though much less powerful than what this beast looked like. It was strange trying to determine which one was the superior. They supposed the current human, as its head size looked much bigger in comparison.

Krill pulled up a side by side comparison with his earlier diagram.

They recognized the modern human as he had been rendered in textbooks thousands of times since he had first been studied.

Very pale with his fine blond fur compared to the hulking shape next to him, with course brown fur that covered his entire body.

“Not the evolutionary changes that had to be made to get from this human.” He pointed at the hairy one, “To that one.” He motioned to the pale one, “The hips grew smaller, the spine took on a sharp S curve, the ratio of legs to arms changed dramatically, leaving the human with longer legs and comparatively short arms. The jaw and the face shortened, while the cranium expanded and hair receded across the body. The current human skeletal structure is finer and more delicate than its original counterpart, with a focus on precision in movement over power, which has become so important to their survival today.”

Dr Krill pointed to the picture of the old human, “This human tried its best to stay alive.” He pointed at the other human, “This human seems to be lacking in a lot of those same survival skills as he is constantly trying to get himself killed.” Krill sighed, “Modern humans are a little bit more complicated than their ancestors, but I digress.” Now imagine either on of these humans being faced with what might have been their natural predator on the savanna.

He flipped the image and the crowd gasped as a massive alien shape leaped up into a third projected spot. It was long and sinewy walking on four legs and a had a fur color like the tanned grassland. It’s eyes were face front, and on its massive paws there were huge hooked claws. Dr. Krill pressed a button to start the looping animation that allowed the creature to lope along with a sinuous grace that made the human lok clumsy and awkward in comparison, all three of the animations moving.

The creature opened its mouth and the entire class pulled back as huge razor sharp teeth glinted in the light, as it yawned, shook its head, and then continued walking.

“This is an African Lion, a female of the species weighing in at only 280 lbs. Now while some humans can weigh that much, a human of comparable fitness like our modern human weigh in at around only 210 lbs as an adult male. Now this female lion has a higher muscle to body mass index than the human, can run faster, jump higher, and bite harder. She has long and protruding K-9 teeth and retractable claws. The human has no chance….. or …. Does he.”

The class shifted slightly in their seats muttering

Krill waited for a long drawn out moment before, “No, statistically he is going to get his face eaten off, however, he does still have a slight chance.”

“The human will see the predator, and immediately upon seeing the body is going to flood the system with a hormone called adrenaline. Adrenaline is a natural high for humans that can result in increased strength, speed, and heightened visual perception. The Parasympathetic system is switched off for the sympathetic nervous system. The heart begins to beat faster as blood is routed into all the major muscle groups, those being primarily the legs. All activity in the internal organs shuts down as that blood flow is routed outwards. Blood can even be funneled away from the brain, despite that seeming a bit counter productive, causing tunnel vision in the eyes. Despite this, the brain begins to work faster allowing the human to see at more frames per second which seems, to a human, to slow down time.”

He turned to look at them, “Now a human has three opinions in a dangerous situation like this, either fight, flight, or freeze. All of these responses would have been adaptive in an environment like this with fight being, hopefully, the last response. Many predator animals are geared for a chase, so freezing will give a human a better chance of survival because if they run they will most certainly be attacked. ON the other hand sometimes this will not work, and being able to run as fast as possible is their only option. Backed against a wall and unable to run fast enough, a human has to fight. Some humans do not react in this order.”

He turned to look at the image, “The human body on adrenaline is capable of some wild and unbelievable things. The average human only uses around 40-60% of their body's natural strength. Systems in the brain will not allow more because if a human were able to use all the power of their body, they could rend muscle from bone. Well trained human athletes can use up to 70-90% of their natural strength, but during a time like this, the average human can be turned into a well trained athlete or more. In dire situations humans have been known to lift up to seven times their own body weight. During this time humans have been known to lift vehicles, wrestle wild animals, and throw large boulders. However, this does not come without a price, and the human will likely receive damage to their muscular structure.”

He turned to point at the pictures again.

“I heard a story about how a human choked to death a small mountain lion, and another man who fought off a shark. Humans are statistically unlikely to win a fight like this, but it isn’t impossible.”

He stalked around the room, “Humans do not just experience adrenaline when dealing with animals, but during accidents, public speaking events, and even in conflict with other humans. Expecting to be hurt, the human body has the ability to completely shut off its pain perception.”

There was a stunned silence all around him, and then an uproar.

Dr. krill seemed almost smug as he watched them react like that, and raised a hand for silence.

They quieted down, “Yes, you heard me, the human brain has the ability to completely ignore pain, until the danger is dealt with. The first surgery I ever did, on this human right here is a good demonstration…. If you do not want to see graphic images turn your head away now.”

Even if they had wanted too it was impossible to tear their eyes away as the image popped up on screen.

The class gasped.

There was a collective sound of disgust.

“That screwdriver had gone in through the front of his eye, broke through the back of the ocular socket and slid into one of the cortical folds of the brain. He WALKED into my surgery and conversed with me like a logical and reasoning person. He did not report any physical discomfort or pain, he did not scream or show any other signs of distress. His brain had completely shut off all response to the pain.”

He turned to walk around the circle.

“You see most of the time pain is a good thing, it allows you to know when something is wrong, but there are other times, dire situations like this where the ability to feel pain will only hinder the subject. If this human had been able to feel pain it is likely his thrashing and screaming would have caused more cortical damage than it already would have. I heard a story of a woman who fell off a cliff and broke both of her legs horribly, while she was still in pain, she managed to crawl her way off a mountain, and as soon as other humans found her she passed out as the pain got worse. Another human, who had been rock climbing, ended up with his arm trapped under a boulder and with no escape. He was there for days, but, in the end, he managed to cut off his own arm in order to escape.”

More horrified gasping from the crowd as they pulled away in shock and terror.

“These are just some of the most impressive stories. Not all humans will react like this. The vast majority of humans will freeze when they should fight, or run when they should freeze. Some will simply give up and curl into a ball, but there are other humans, like this, who under adrenaline can run like olympic sprinters, lift seven times their own size and fight better than the animals attacking them. The capabilities and the possibilities of a human under the influence of adrenaline are remarkable.”

His antenna vibrated just a little in amusement, “As you can imagine, humans do not experience this much these days, but psychological studies have reported that it is actually healthy for humans to experience the fight or flight response as it helps the brain retain that ability. For something to continue working you need to use it. Scientists say that exposing a human to a sympathetic response in a controlled environment is good for their mental health.” He sighed, “Of course this leads humans to watching horror themed movies, skydiving, and recreational fighting. Otherwise humans put themselves into controlled danger in order to feel what their ancestors felt a long time ago when they were being chased by large raging land predators, but when your species developed in an environment that hostile, it is to be expected.”

The group of four stared at krill, and by extension the animation of the real living human behind him. They tried to imagine the slim two legged figure winning a fight against the massive clawed beast, but were having trouble. Its teeth, which had once seemed so sharp, now were dull and almost useless. The nails on its hands, once considered claws were tiny, flimsy and pathetic, but….. It seemed strange, there was still something in the way it moved that suggested possibilities.

Humans were survivors where many other species were not.

Humans may not have had a very high chance.

But at least they had a chance.

#humans are space orcs #humans are insane #HUMANS ARE WERID #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia

693 notes · View notes

moonflowcrr · 3 years

Text

;revels if there were one

‏‏‎ ‎ !! masterlist ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎

avengers x f!reader

slight nat x f!reader

no warnings ♡

➵ just sitting with the avengers after one of Tony’s parties- and the shenanigans that go along with it.

wc ┊ 1084

‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎[ 🕊 ] ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎

“

okay so i watched black widow not that long ago and i miss them :( so have this age of ultron scene rewrite that i made a while back !! please feel free to send in a request or prompts <3‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎„‏‎ ‏‏

‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎- - - ┊♡ ┊ - - -‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎

‎the evening had been in full swing for the better part of two hours. drinks had and music sung- a full revel if there ever was one. the mission had been long- and hard, and one of their own had taken a rather nasty hit. best to forget your worries with alcohol and a good party, a memo Tony would probably preach by. boozed avengers and guests laughed until the early hours of the morning- until people began to trail off and the party started to wind down. at long last, the final dribbles of Tony’s expensive guests bid their farewells and left in their expensive cars, and the remaining members grouped together on the couch; the heat of debate sparking them up despite the longing for sleep that turned their eyes to scratchy sandpaper.

(y/n) sat curled in a heap beside Natasha, one leg tucked beneath her, while the other stretched out and sat neatly over the other woman’s lap- though the redheads attention was anywhere but on her. a conversation bounced between the redhead and the scientist, and Bruce did a poor job of disguising his overly flirty manner. Natasha beamed, her full body turned to give the male her attention- and despite being the one who encouraged the woman to pursue this attraction; (y/n) couldn’t help the tendrils of jealousy tugging obnoxiously on her heartstrings.

she grimaced, and took another swig of her beer. liquid courage to stamp out a subtle flicker.

Thor’s hearty laugh danced across the quiet group, muting the grumbles of the man across from him- who sat rather smugly, his pride intact, as he spun a drumstick around his fingers.

“ but it’s a trick! ” Clint exclaimed, failing to hide the small smirk that crossed his face when the god joined in the squabble match.

“ no, no ” the blond started, leaning to tap his beer against Steve’s shot glass. ( a strange human tradition, he thought. something of acknowledgement and praise. why bump glasses? why not just drink? ) shaking his head he continued “ it’s much more than that. ”

from his spot on the floor, the man scoffed, earning a few hushed chuckles from the woman beside him. “ ah, whosoever be he worthy shall haveth the power! ” he spoke, arms outstretched to mock the fabled hammer. “ whatever man! it’s a trick! ”

“ well please, be my guest ” Thor laughed in reply, smugness choking his words to sound as cocky as humanly, or godly, possible. minute fear danced in Barton’s eyes momentarily; and it wasn’t missed by the blond. a challenging smile taunted the man, which only left him dumbstruck into silence, Clint only stared.

“ come on ” Tony prompted from his side of the group. Clint threw his hands up in defeat, a nasty glare sent in Tony’s direction as he called out a simple ' really? ‘. murmurs of chuckles rippled through the group, everyone’s attention now focused on the scene.

“ this should be good ” (y/n) quipped, shuffling to untangle herself from Natasha’s lap. an equally nasty glare was shot in her direction as Clint huffed past, but the girl only laughed in response.

“ Clint, you’ve had a tough week. we won’t hold it against you if you can’t get it up ” Tony spoke, another chorus of laughter bubbling from the intoxicated group. “ i will! ” (y/n) countered. “ okay she will, but the rest of us won’t. ”

rolling his eyes, the brown haired archer stepped up to the table, making some offhand comment before his attempt. with one hand wrapped around the handle of the hammer, and a strained groan escaping his lips- he slumped back in defeat; finally laughing at his failure. “ i still don’t know how you do it! ”

thus sparked a new game- who of the Avengers could lift the mighty hammer? one after the other, they waddled up to attempt, and waddled back a failure. laughter boomed at each new turn and theory- Tony had even gone as far as to rely on the aid of his iron suit ( which had only earned him a failed attempt and a snide remark from his friends. )

at some point during the fiasco, Banner had moved to make his attempt- some lame joke about the hulk later and he returned to his seat, only more defeated and the tint of rose dusting his cheeks. (y/n), during that time, had moved yet again until she was sat with her head resting on Natasha’s shoulder. the red hair tickled her forehead, and she bit back the smile that was threatening to escape.

she almost purred with satisfaction, the greedy part of her that hadn’t been as tucked away as she’d have hoped cheering in the fact Natashas attention was no longer on the man. instead a hand was rest in (y/n)’s lap- and with all the willpower the young hero could muster, she fought the urge to tangle her fingers with the pale ones of the Russian spy.

“-and, Widow? ”

the question snapped the girl from her thoughts, and she sat back up like she’d been stung, frazzled at the thought of being caught. thankfully the attention wasn’t on her- but rather the redhead beside her.

“ oh, no no. that’s not a question i need answered. ” Natasha stated, leaning back into the plushness of the sofa as she brought her beer to her lips, head bumping against the back of the chair and the girls shoulder. Nat looked up, capturing (y/n)’s amused ( and still slightly panicked ) eyes. “ how about you? ” she asked around the rim of the glass.

the (e/c) eyed girl sucked in a quiet breath before a laugh escaped her. “ ah, why not ”. stepping up and wrapping her fingers around the handle, she began to pull.

but nothing- of course.

laughter broke out as she stepped back, Tony jumping in the fire a remark at her as she went to sit back down.

“ all deference to the Man Who Wouldnt Be King, but it’s rigged. ” Stark concluded, finalising his statement with a drink as Clint walked past and bumped shoulders with him “ bet your ass ”

“ steve! ” a voice called from somewhere to the girls left. “ he said a bad language word ”

“ did you tell everyone about this? ” was the last thing (y/n) heard as her thoughts struck up again. smiles and laughs buzzed the room like a warm glow. the alcohol sitting comfortably in her belly, head resting atop Natashas shoulder once more.

yeah, she decided, i could get used to this.

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #the avengers #avengers x reader #mcu #wlw

53 notes · View notes

mrslittletall · 3 years

Note

1 for Ashen One and Anri

Title: Burning Loneliness (Sicktember Prompt 1) Fandom: Dark Souls 3 Characters: Anri of Astora, Ashen One Word Count: 1.459 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33617680

Summary: Anri has been separated from Horace in the Catacombs of Carthus. While they search for him, their doubts as well as a fever catch up to them.

(Author's note: It isn't common for Undead or Unkindle to have like a common cold or anything, so I made the illness of Anri a bit more meta in this piece. Normally I like to use they/them pronouns for Ashen One, but because I already use them for Anri and because Horace uses he/him pronouns, I changed my mind, so we have a he/him Ashen One in this piece.) @sicktember

Where’s Horace?

That was the only thought on Anri’s mind when they limped through the Catacombs of Carthus. It wasn’t the first time the two of them had gotten separated. Like always, Anri had marked the way with prism stones, but this time, something was amiss. Horace hadn’t come back… it was the first time ever that he hadn’t found his way back to Anri.

Anri knew that they should trust Horace, he was a strong competent warrior, he would be fine, but there had been this bad feeling deep inside their chest and they had abandoned their meeting point to search for him.

It turned out to have been a mistake. The skeleton warriors of the catacombs had done a number on them. Now they were out of Estus and far away from the next bonfire. The latest wound they hadn’t been able to heal, a slash across their ankle and the mud and dirty water in the catacombs, plagued with rats, didn’t make the wound better. In fact, it was hurting a lot, Anri was barely able to even put weight on this foot anymore.

The worst thing however, was how hot Anri felt. It wasn’t the comforting warmth of the embers that the unkindled ones experienced when they used an ember, this felt like they were straight up burning up. The heat arised from the injured foot and wandered through their whole body, making them feel hot and sweaty under their helmet, the one that once was worn by the elite knights of Astora.

If they didn’t know that removing their armour would mean certain death, they would rip it from their face, to get a bit of cool air into their face. If there even was cool air down here, the Catacombs of Carthus were rather humid and sticky, not a nice place to be in after the swamp, which poisoned a person just by walking in it. Lothric truly was a cruel and merciless place…

Anri missed Horace’s company not only because they felt a lot safer with him around, they also missed his company because they felt awful. He always would stay with them and hold them until they felt better, it had always been like this when they still had been children and waited for their cruel fate… to turn into the next meal of St. Aldrich. Who thought that giving a man that feasted on children the title of Saint was a good idea?

Anri knew that they had to reach the bonfire soon if they wanted to stay alive. The Catacombs of Carthus were cleaned out for now, but it wouldn’t stay like this. The undead would slowly be reborn from the bonfire and then they would raise the skeleton warriors again with their sorcery. In their state Anri wasn’t able to fight them…. and they feared that their next death would be final.

If only Horace would be here. Horace always gave them hope and they knew they would come back just for him, as long as Horace would be there, the hollowing wouldn’t grasp them, but right at this moment, Anri could feel the hopelessness spreading through them.

If they died here, it was very likely that they would turn hollow and then Horace would only find an aggressive beast trying to kill him instead of the loyal companion that he expected. Anri wouldn’t and couldn’t do that to Horace.

What if Horace is hollow? Their mind whispered to them. You know it is a very real possibility.

Anri didn’t want to think about it. Horace would come back. He always did. He couldn’t be hollow. Like them, he wouldn’t force them to the ordeal of taking the life of their best friend and most loyal companion. He couldn’t be hollow.

But why couldn’t Anri find him then…?

They felt like they were at the end of their rope. The pain was too much, the exhaustion took over, their body burned up. They couldn’t take another step anymore.

Horace was the only thing on their mind when they collapsed on the ground, the muddy water splashing around them, staining their armour even further.

They were barely aware of the fact that someone grasped them and hove them up, carrying them away. For some reason, instead of being scared or trying to fend for their life, they let themselves fall unconscious.

It was like they knew that they could trust the person who had picked them up…

When Anri awoke, it was next to the crackle of a bonfire. While the excruciating pain in their food had dumbed down and only a low throb remained, the heat in their body was still very prominent. They tried to prop themselves up on their elbows. There was a hulking figure next to them… could that be?

“Horace?”, they rasped out, though the moment they noticed that they still were wearing their helmet, they knew it couldn’t be Horace.

The figure turned around, clothed in full armour like them, but theirs was just a simple knight set. Anri had met this unkindled before. They had even asked him if he had seen Horace and to keep an eye out for their companion. He didn’t have a name, the curse having stripped him of almost all his memories, he simply had introduced himself as the Ashen One.

“Sorry.”, the Ashen One said. “I know you were expecting someone else.”

Anri was torn between relief and disappointment. Relief that it had been the Ashen One that found them and disappointment that it was not Horace.

“You don’t have to apologize.”, they said, lying back down on the ground. “I have to give you my thanks for carrying me to the bonfire. I fear otherwise I had been done for.”

“Don’t mention it.”, the Ashen One said, handing them a filled Estus Flask. Their own Estus Flask. “The bonfire took care of your wounds, but not of the infection. Isn’t it strange? The bonfire and the Estus flask can heal every wound, regardless how bad it is, but they can’t get rid of an infection… I fear you have to battle the fever yourself.”

A fever, of course. That had been the burning feeling, that was the burning feeling still coursing through their body. It had been so long ago that they had turned undead, they had forgotten how it felt to get sick. Anri accepted the Estus Flask and attached it to their belt with shaky hands.

“A fever… I forgot how much they can burn…”, they sighed.

“It can help if you put a washcloth doused in cold water on your forehead.”, the Ashen One said. “I wanted to do this for you, but… I didn’t want to remove your helmet without your consent.”

Despite how unwell Anri felt, they couldn’t help but smile. The undead often would conceal their faces to hide their signs of hollowing. It was very nice of the Ashen One to not remove their helmet without their consent.

Especially because they already showed minor signs of the hollowing.

“I don’t think you would scorn me if you know…”, they said. “Besides, we unkindled have to work together. That is why I always travel with Horace.” And because he was a very good friend… and made them feel less lonely.

Anri removed their helmet and sighed when some air caressed their face, which was red and sweaty from the fever. Their hair stuck to their forehead, wet from all the sweat.

“I feel honoured that you trust me enough to show me your face.”, the Ashen One said, getting out a ragged cloth and pouring a bit of Ashen Estus Flask over it. Despite the usual Estus Flask, the Ashen Estus Flask was cold to the touch and as soon as it hit Anri’s forehead, they felt a lot better.

All they could do now was wait. Wait for their body to get rid of the fever. They were safe at the bonfire, the hollows would never attack here, even if they got reborn from it, they just would walk back to where they had died. The bonfire was a sacred place for every undead.

Still, Anri was scared. They were scared of the loneliness in their heart, the loneliness that quickened their hollowing.

They didn’t want to be alone.

They raised a hand and nudged the Ashen One. As he looked at them, they asked: “...Will you stay with me until Horace comes back… or until I feel better?”

There was a slight pause before the Ashen One answered. Once he talked, his voice was warm, feeling similar to the embers that would warm the unkindled up.

“Of course.” (Author's note: And this was the first prompt for the Sicktember challenge in 2021. I had a lot of fun writing Anri and my interpretation of the Ashen One. Thanks so much for the request. I hope you enjoyed it.)

#dark souls #dark souls 3 #anri of astora #ashen one #fanfiction #sickfic #hurt/comfort #prompt: fever #sicktember 2021 #littlewritesstuff #request fill #ask answered #thx for the ask

39 notes · View notes

moreofem · 4 years

Text

Reassurance.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x enhanced! Black! WOC reader

Type: One-Shot

Warnings: death of a small child, mentions of a panic attack/ anxiety, one mention of human tr*afficking, hallucinations // smut: mention of lactation kink, unprotected sex: WRAP IT BEFORE U TAP IT OTHERWISE U CAN GET PREGGERS AND CATCH STD’S

A/N: This fic happens during 2015, therefore during Age of Ultron.

Words: 8071 (whew chile this is loong i guess)

South African coast. It was beautiful. You watched intently as the jet passed through fields of blue and green: luxurious flora, crystal clear water. You felt good, confident about the mission. Maybe it was the environment, a sense of familiarity as you flew over a continent that contained so much culture and traditions. It felt like you were coming back to your original roots, and it gave you some sort of comfort. It was a bit strange but you didn’t hesitate to bask in the feeling.

You sighed contently at the sight of the landscape beneath your feet, and you smiled softly when you felt the presence of Steve behind you. How did you know it was him? His scent. It was unique, and you absolutely loved it, he smelled so good. A mix of laundry detergent, old spice, mint and this specific tea that he loved drinking.

He put his hands on your shoulders, lightly massaging them.

“Hi doll…”

You hummed to yourself and leaned into his embrace, feeling the cold Kevlar digging into your neck.

“Hey Stevie… this mission’s gonna be a piece of cake, don’t you think?”

He chuckled and pulled you closer to him.

“If you listen to me this time, yes.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes, turning your head towards him.

“Don’t you think it’s so fun when I don’t listen, huh, Captain?”

Steve narrowed his eyes, trying to seem serious, but a devilish grin took place on his face.

“It is… but you know that I want you to listen, for your sake and mine.”

“Well, this time, I’ll be all ears, and the mission will be as smooth… as your ass.”

Natasha snickered, startling both of you as she approached the corner you two were against.

“Two minutes ‘till landing, you horny people…”

You smirked at her, pulling yourself from Steve’s embrace.

“You’re just jealous Nat, go tell Banner how you wanna fuck him so bad, and then we’ll talk ‘bout horny people…”

She gasped, slapping your arm.

“Y/n!”

“Oh! Wait, I’m not finished… Tell him that you want him to… what did you say last time you were hammered? That you wanted him to ‘hulk this pussy out’? Girl… What did that even mean?”

The redhead stared at you with a mean look as you laughed wholeheartedly, grabbing a few belt grenades, preparing yourself for the fight. She turned back towards Steve, a small blush invading her face.

“Steven. Your woman? She’s outta control…”

•

“Junior… You’re gonna break your old man’s heart…”

Tony’s voice rang through the metal, and you giggled internally at his joke. You, Clint and Natasha were posted behind, hiding yourself from your opponents.

You heard Ultron fake a gag.

“Urgh… Captain America”

You scoffed quietly, rolling your eyes at the robot’s tone.

“God’s righteous man… pretending you could live without a war.

You huffed, feeling the tip on your fingers already heating up.

‘How dare he pronounce my man’s name? Imma beat the shit outta him.’

“I can’t physically throw up in my mouth…”

You didn’t hear the rest, too focused by the fire running through your body, the roots of your hair starting to become redder. The red hot heat coursed through your veins, warming up your blood, making your body heat go up degrees. Your eyes were creeped up by the flame, and they became bloodshot, your irises turning gold. Your enhancement was a curse, but you never felt more powerful than when the incandescence invaded you. You growled, clenching your fists. A wicked grin took over your face. You were ready to fight, you were ready to kill.

You heard a familiar grunt, then a huge commotion, and you knew the assault had started.

You came out of your hiding place to watch the fight from above, and you gasped quietly when you saw the enhanced girl flip Steve with her red telekinesis powers. You jumped from the ramp, landing swiftly on the metal beneath you, before running towards her. Surprised glazed her features for a second, but she recomposed herself when you threw a punch at her. She blocked it, but you grabbed her neck and backed her against a cool wall. The brunette girl inhaled sharply while her eyes widened when she felt her throat heating up. You snarled:

“Don’t you ever touch him. Go-“

You squealed when you felt yourself fly in the air, a blue shadow grabbing your eye. ’The other enhanced’, you thought.

You felt yourself fall, and put your body temperature to the maximum, melting solids underneath you, until you steadied your landing.

Your body settled a few levels beneath, and you hissed when tingling sensations prickled your feet. It was dark, and you couldn’t even see your own hand. You fused a nearby ramp, the sudden heat lighting up the room for a few minutes. You looked around, identifying a staircase. You ran up, hearing Steve in your coms:

“Y/N! Are you okay? Where the hell are you?”

You panted, still running up the stairs.

“I’m good, I’m coming up, I fell somewhere!”

You listened to him fight, little grunts and clangs ringing in your ear, and you smiled to yourself.

Still running, you were trying to find the core of the battle, when you felt something invading your brain. When you turned around, you saw the enhanced looking at you, red ribbons surrounding her fingers.

“You like your Captain very much, do you? That’s cute…”

Her sokovian accent was sharp, and her next words even more.

“…But do you think he likes you that much?”

You grunted, feeling slightly dizzy, and she smirked at you, already leaving. You tried to run towards her, but your legs felt like jelly. You were dizzy, and little black spots clouded your vision.

“Stevie?… Honey…?”

You heard him hum and throw his shield, a signal that he was listening to you.

“I- I think the sokovian girl tried to get into my head… It’s… Stevie? I’m dizzy, I-“

Your brain was fuzzy, and you felt so far. Your boyfriend’s worried tone invaded your head, but you couldn’t hear properly… Everything was just so… muffled.

• You came down from the Quinjet, smiling and making small talk with Natasha. She was showing off her new engagement ring, and it was gorgeous. Bruce really had taste and knew his fiancée so well. When you finally arrived at the compound, you waved her off, promising her you’d help her with the wedding planning. But right now, you were excited to go home. You entered your car, and drove back to your house. It was simple, red brick, flowers, and a huge garden where Steve spent a majority of his time during Spring. You smiled at the sight of your messy porch: a neon green ball had been thrown carelessly on the sleek wood, as well as the unhealthy amount of James’s toys, that the team always spoiled him with. You opened the door, expecting the small babbles and laughs of your son, a soft 40’s tune coming from the bluetooth speakers, and the delightful sight of your retired Captain making dinner in a small apron that said: ‘Kiss the cook’.

“Honey… I’m home!”

You furrowed your brows at the sound of little sniffles, and you took your combat boots in a hurry. Moving swiftly through the corridor, you entered the kitchen, finding your son literally wailing in his high chair. You gasped, panic already invading your body. You rushed towards the toddler, unbuckling him and taking him in your arms. He calmed a bit in your embrace as you cooed at him, cradling him and pressing your lips into his dark curls. Something caught your eye, and you walked towards the heathered cabinet. An ice-cold sensation spread through your body as you discovered with horror the ripped photograph that had been put back in the picture frame. It was a beautiful picture, taken while James’s first birthday, and you and your little family looked as happy as can be. You on the left, James in the middle, mouth slathered in frosting.

But no Steve. At least, not anymore. The right side of the picture was gone. Teared. Ripped.

You steadied your baby on your hip, and almost ran to each frame, and every time, Steve was missing. His pictures were gone, and when you entered your shared room, you felt like dying. His belongings had vanished, like he’d never lived in this house. Tears started to pool from your eyes, and you finally understood. He had left, and you had an idea of where and to whom. How could he? Weren’t you his best girl? Was everything all a lie? Everything he’d told you, legs tangled in stained sheets, the soft spoken words and kisses, was false.

Your limbs trembled, but you still had a steady grip and James didn’t even slip from your arms. You started sobbing, gasping and a lump formed in your throat. Your nostrils flared and you sat on your bed, steadying your son against your chest. You started rocking yourself, a sign of your anxiety bubbling up, and when a small tear slipped and fell on the toddler’s little hand, he looked up at you and grabbed your cheek, his big brown eyes looking up at you, concern raking them.

“Mama?”

You almost cried out at his little voice, but instead, you gave him a small, sad smile.

“Y-yes…’ you sniffled, ‘yes… it’s Mama…”

He scrunched his nose, like he was trying not to cry.

“Papa?”

You hiccuped, shaking your head swiftly, your coils coming out of your bun.

“No… Pa-papa”

“No Papa?”

Your son’s orbs swelled with tears, and when he started weeping, you sighed and pressed him against your chest. After the crippling sadness, uncontrollable anger filled your body, and all of a sudden, your body heat went up a notch.

How could he? How could he lie to your face? How could he leave you? How could he leave James? To go back to that woman? When he had moved on and had a family of his own? He wasn’t Steve Rogers from the 40’s, he was Steve from the 21st Century for god’s sake. He had a wife and a kid… But he proved that you weren’t enough for him, you had never been.

You sobbed, still cradling James, and all of a sudden, you felt something drip down your arms and onto your lap. You felt a weight against your stomach being lifted, and you screamed when you saw a puddle of nothing at your feet, melting the carpet underneath you.

“No no no no no… James! James! I- James!?”

Your hands lifted to your hair, and you pulled it, trying to understand what had just happened. He had just… melted.

You screamed, again and again, into the mortifying silence of your adobe, and you felt your skin prickle. Fire invaded your veins, and you became a flame. You were going crazy, your mind no longer controlling anything. You were just an empty, evil shell who killed your own son. You burned everything, lighting up the bed, wardrobe and desk up, growling and groaning. You were an animal, and you were slowly spiralling into insanity.

Your last sight before you closed your eyes was your house, burning in huge flames, the bricks melting and falling on the ground. You turned around and caught your reflection in a surprisingly spared mirror. Your eyes were a strange mix of white, brown and black, your hands were covered in gunk, your clothes were ripped in pieces, and your hair was burning.

‘I’m a monster, a monster… I’m a-‘

You fell unconscious.

•

“Y/N. Y/N.”

You groaned, your mind still fuzzy.

“Y/N. Wake up.”

You opened your bloodshot eyes, and felt yourself being lifted up. You heard Steve’s voice from a distance, and with every step your body took, the voice got louder and louder.

“No worries Clint. I got her. You go and get Nat.”

Steve bent down a bit, cradling your face between his large hands. His brows were furrowed, and in any other case, you’d be smiling at him, and pressing your fingers above his eyebrows, trying to sooth him.

Right now, your face was painfully neutral, your lips put in a tight line and your eyes empty.

“Doll? Y/N? Baby, can you hear me?”

You lifted your eyes a bit, watching your boyfriend with glossy orbs. You couldn’t feel anything and your mouth was dry.

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay. I’m here, we’re gonna be okay. We’re going to go back on the jet, and I’ll carry you on my back, that's OK for you?”

He barked orders to someone, an irritating contrast from the way he was speaking to you just seconds ago, and he moved you around, settling your body on his back, your arms around his neck and legs around his slim waist.

He cooed at you:

“You hold on tight, darling, we’re going somewhere safe…”

When you both entered the Quinjet, you whispered into Steve’s ear:

“P-put the cuffs on me, pl…please…”

Your last word was a whimper, and your boyfriend felt a pang in his heart at your desperate tone. ‘What did that girl do to you, Doll?’

“You sure ‘bout that? I don’t want them to hurt you…”

“St-Stevie. Put the goddamn cuffs o-on me…”

He sighed, sitting you down on one of the jet’s seats. He grabbed the pair of enhancement blocker vibranium cuffs and hooked them around your wrists. You immediately slumped against the recliner, your empty eyes glazing over the tall blond’s form.

You cleared your throat and closed your eyes, listening to Steve sit next to you and securing his belt.

He sighed and looked at your drowsy figure. Salty tears were dried on your face and started to form marks. Your plump lips were chapped, and there was a small, superficial gash on your right cheek. A few twists were out of your supposedly secured bun, and the more he watched you sleep, the more he wondered what you had visualized, when the enhanced girl played with your mind. He wondered if you had seen him like he’d seen you…

• Steve entered the crowded and noisy hall with confusion. Cameras were flashing around him, champagne flowed freely and couples and friends were laughing, dancing, drinking and having what seemed like the time of their life. He marched through the crowd, wincing as a camera took a picture, blinding him. He turned around, brow furrowed as two men shouted at each other, getting into an altercation. His head was thumping while he stared at a bleeding man who was laughing like his wound wasn’t hurting at all. It was chaos. Men were fighting, others were still waltzing to the classic 40’s music. The cameras were still twinkling, and as Steve stood in the middle of the room, dumbfounded, he felt the presence of someone behind him.

“Are you ready for our dance?”

The soft British accent rang through his ears, and he turned around quickly, still confused as ever.

“The war’s over Steve… We can go home!... Imagine it…”

Peggy Carter gave him a soft, red lipped smile, but all of a sudden, when he turned his head back, everything had disappeared, including the brunette. The small round chairs were neatly put against the walls, the music had stopped, and he was surrounded by silence. A flash entered his mind, and he inhaled sharply as he imagined Peggy twirling happily in his arms.

‘But it’s different now…”

He scrunched his face as he tried to remember something, more precisely someone. He was digging into his mind, trying to think about a face, a laugh, a body, a mouth-

“Stevie?”

He turned around for what felt like the hundredth time this evening, and let out a relieved sigh when he saw you. You were like every single one of his 40’s fantasies. You wore a cream colored tulle dress, with a pretty cowl neckline that made your delicate collar bones pop. The waistline accentuated your curves and the small necklace made your brown skin look heavenly. You smiled at him, at Steve wanted to kiss those rosewood colored lips.

“Y/N…”

You giggled and got up from your chair. Your black suede heels clicked on the ground as you strode to him.

“I missed you, darling… Do you like my hair?”

Steve grinned and moved his fingers towards your neatly pinned and complicated hairstyle, beaming even more when you let him touch a small curl.

“I-I love it Doll… You’re absolutely gorgeous, d’ya wanna do a twirl for me?”

Your eyes sparkled, and after your spin, he grabbed your waist and pulled you in for a sweet kiss. The lighting dimmed suddenly, and you broke the kiss, puzzlement written all over your face. The blond gave you a concerned look as he grabbed your hands.

“What’s wrong honey?”

Your brows furrowed and tears started to gather in the corners of your eyes. Small hiccups raked through your body, and when you locked eyes with him, he gasped.

“Doll? Why are you crying?”

“Why did you leave me Steve? Why?”

He was taken aback, his eyebrows shooting up.

“What? Doll, I never left you, I would never leave you, I-I love you!”

“But you still did… Steve, why did you leave me? Why?”

He grabbed your face with his hands, not understanding what was happening to you.

“Why, Steve, why?”

You whispered the last part, and when Steve blinked at you and opened his eyes, you were gone.

• Steve was startled out of his incomprehensible daydream as the Quinjet landed in a field. You were already awake and he felt his heart break at the sight of your collapsed shape. He crouched in front of you, gabbing your cuffed wrists.

“Doll? We’re at the safe house… We’re gonna take off these cuffs, ‘kay?”

You groaned, shaking your head.

“N-no!’, your voice was coarse, and you tried coughing to get rid of it. ‘I’m a monster Steve. A monster.”

He sighed, pressing his hand on your knee.

“You’re not a monster Y/N… And you need to get these cuffs out. Let’s put on the gloves then, huh?”

You shrugged and stretched your arms towards him, listening to the clicks and clunks of the rare metal. He put the intricate designed block gloves on your hands, and lifted you up, helping you stand and walk.

Everyone got out, Clint and Nat, then Tony, Thor, you and Steve and finally, Bruce. You looked around, breathing the fresh rural air. The classic craftsman house was surrounded by fields and a small forest.

“What is this place?”

“Safe house…”

“Let’s hope”

And with that, Clint, still holding Nat, opened the door. You looked around, eyes fixed on every little detail.

“Honey?’ Your head shot up at Clint’s voice, ‘I’m home!”

You looked at Steve and he shook his head softly, informing you that he didn’t know anything either.

A pretty brunette came from around a corner, a small smile on her face. You almost gasped when you saw her prominent belly that was covered by a colorful blouse. Steve watched your eyes light up with a small quirk of his lips, you’d finally shown some sort of emotion, and also because he knew how much you loved and admired pregnant women.

The brunette put the papers that she was holding on the velvety orange couch and kissed the archer.

“This is an agent of some kind.” Said Tony, visibly very surprised.

“Gentlemen, and lady, this is Laura…”

She waved shyly at you guys, and when you locked eyes with her, you gave her a soft, tired smile.

“Ooh, incoming.”

You gasped again when a cute little girl with two little pigtails came running towards her father. He took her in his arms and cradled the other child -a little boy in a red plaid shirt- in his arms. Steve contemplated the scene, his jaw slack. You put your finger under his chin, closing his mouth.

“Close your mouth or you’ll swallow flies.”

He furrowed his brows playfully at you and you snickered at Tony’s next words:

“And… These are smaller agents.”

“Did you bring Auntie Nat?”

You watched the redhead look up, a growing smile forming on her face.

“Why don’t you hug her and find out?”

The little girl ran into Natasha’s arms, and you beamed at them and the cuteness overload.

You needed that. Softness and cuteness.

“Sorry for barging in on you.”

You huffed out a laugh at Steve, then walked towards the Barton family.

“Yeah, we would’ve called ahead, but we were busy having no idea you existed.”

Classic Tony.

“Yeah, well, Fury helped me set this up when I joined. He kept it off S.H.I.E.L.D’s files. I’d like to keep it that way…”

You smiled at Clint. He was your mentor -he was the one who had found you, trapped beneath a building, trying to hide from human traffickers- and you loved him with all your heart.

“Well, I can assure you that it’ll stay that way…”

Laura mouthed a ‘thank you’ and you bent down, arriving nose to nose with her belly.

“Can I touch?”

You bit your lip nervously. She giggled and nodded excitedly.

“Of course honey, go on.”

With trembling hands, you approached your gloved hand towards her cute, round stomach, and when you finally came in contact with it, you felt a little kick.

You puffed and shrieked like a schoolgirl.

“Oh my god! They kicked! Hi baby! I’m Y/N!”

Your cooes alerted Steve who moved his attention from the broken lego house that Thor had just crushed to you, his girlfriend, crouched in front of his friend’s pregnant wife, talking with an unborn child. He smiled, his heart doing somersaults.

“My friend, you should do the same.”

Thor chuckled and patted his shoulder at his confused stare.

“What?”

“Impregnate her… I’m sure Lady Y/N would love to have a newborn of her own.”

Steve choked on his spit, coughing loudly as Thor belly laughed, proud of his intervention.

“I-I don’t think it’s the right time…”

“Yet.”

Steve glared at the other blond, and chuckled:

“Yet.”

•

You smiled as Nat crouched with you.

“I missed you. How’s little Natasha, huh?”

Laura made a face:

“She’s… Nathaniel…”

You snorted, still caressing the bump and having a lengthy conversion with the now little boy.

Nat’s face fell, and she whispered at the belly.

“Traitor.”

“Nat!”

You faked disbelief and she played along, obviously having fun with the situation.

“What? It was supposed to be a mini me! Nathaniel is a traitor, a big, foetus, traitor.”

She grinned mischievously at you, and you and the other two women giggled furiously.

You got distracted as Thor and Steve went out of the house. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Steve sighed, and after the whirring of Thor’s hammer, you had assumed that the god had left.

Steve turned around, looking at the empty staircase. Your voice rang into his ears again.

“Why did you leave me Steve? Why?”

He inhaled, and you appeared in the entrance.

“Stevie? Let’s go get some air, yeah?”

He nodded, leading the way. You two walked a bit, wind flowing through your hair.

“Doll, I’m gonna need you to be one hundred percent honest with me, okay? How are you? Like for real.”

You shrugged, fiddling with your hands.

“I could be better… That fucking sokovian chick is bad… She… she puts stuff in your head and fucks you up… I-I… How are you though?”

He stopped and grabbed your hands.

“I feel the same way, it was just so bizarre… She’s dangerous; did you see Bruce? Nat? They’re scrambled.”

You agreed, and swayed on your feet. Your boyfriend pulled you towards him, hugging you in his big arms. You were a nervous reck, the memories of you had seen flashing through your mind, invading your brain. You felt tears streaming down your face, and you finally authorised yourself a break. Sobs racked through your body, and you cried hard and loud in Steve’s arms, while he whispered calming things in your ears and rubbed your back soothingly. He knew that you’d tell him what you saw when you were ready. He was patient with you, like you were with him.

“It’s okay honey, it’s okay… I’m here, I’ll always be…”

After a while, you slowly calmed down, sobs being replaced by small sniffles. You came out of his embrace, and sighed.

“I’m going to go take a shower, you take care of yourself Stevie, you need it… I don’t know for how long we’ll be here, but you have to take this time to relax, try to relax a bit… Be Steve for once… Please?”

He looked at you with so much endearment you couldn’t help but blush, your ears heating up. He cupped your face and kissed your lips softly, lovingly. It was a kiss full of promises, pain and the undeniable love that you both had for one another.

•

“Ultron took you folks out of play to buy himself time. My contacts all say he’s building something.”

The night had fallen, the whole team, -minus Thor, but including Nick Fury who had arrived seemingly out of nowhere, as usual- and the Barton family were sat around the table or in the kitchen, preparing dinner. Lila, Clint’s daughter skipped to the table with two sheets of paper in her hands. She stopped at you and Nat’s table, giving the drawings to the two of you. You smiled and pinched her cheek affectionately. She pat your hand and whispered in your ear:

“Can I sit on your lap?”

You made an ‘o’ shape with your mouth: never had a child asked if they could sit on your lap. Actually, maybe before, in the past; your brother? Yes, you were almost sure you used to have a sibling, you just didn’t remember anymore…

Seeing that she was still waiting for your answer, you nodded and helped her sit on your thighs. Steve was looking at you intently while still holding the conversation with Fury. You started bouncing Lila on your lap, softly, and when she giggled, Steve couldn’t help but smirk. Damn, you looked so good with a kid on your lap.

“…and whether or not he admits it, his mission is global destruction.”

You sighed, shaking your head in weariness. You were more than tired of these fucking robots.

“…so stand. Outwit the Platinum bastard.”

You and Nat looked at each other and you smirked:

“Language!”

The red head took over:

“Yeah Fury, Steve doesn’t like that kind of talk…”

Arms still crossed, Steve made a playfully annoyed face.

“You know what Y/L/N and Romanoff?”

You two snickered, but the mood fell when Bruce came to the conclusion that Ultron was going to evolve.

“Has anyone been in contact with Helen Cho?”

You clasped your hand on your mouth, muttering a ‘shit!’

“Language Y/N…”

You shot a death at Natasha who just shrugged and bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

“This situation ain’t laughable Nat! Be serious for once!”

She didn’t say anything, just continued to look at you from the corner of her eye, popping some bread in her mouth. She smirked and leaned in, whispering. Thankfully, Lila had already left to go to bed, so she wouldn’t hear:

“Listen babe, stop being cranky and go tell Rogers over there to dick you down. Not too loud though, I’m still gonna try and sleep…”

You blushed and pushed her cheek away, chuckling to yourself.

“Revenge for earlier, bitch.”

“Whatever Nat, at least, I’m not afraid of asking for what I want…”

You stuck your tongue at her and both of you laughed at your childish behavior. You relished these moments with Nat. You two were actually very close, and seeing each other happy and laid back always made your heart swell with joy.

•

When everyone started going to bed, Laura informed you that you and Steve would be sleeping in the last room, the one that was farthest away from the childrens’. You two nodded bashfully when she added:

“Please don’t make too much noise tonight…”

You grabbed Steve’s hand, leading him to the room. You closed the door and sighed, sitting on the bed. Your boyfriend looked down at you as you shook your head and buried it in your hands.

“Honey… Do you wanna talk about what happened there?”

You inhaled sharply, looking back up at him. He was towering you, but in a comforting way. He was hesitant too, not sure if you wanted him to touch you.

“Hold me Steve… please.”

He nodded and grabbed you, moving you upwards, settling his back against the headboard, and your head and torso laid on his ridiculously huge pecs. He started rubbing your back, soothing you.

“I- Nat and Bruce…. They were gonna get married! It was great at first… And then I arrived to a house… our house… And we- we had a son, Steve, a son! His name was James...And I came in the house and he was crying, a-and,’ you were sobbing now, fat streaming down your cheeks, wetting Steve’s shirt. ‘A-and when I arrived, you were gone… You- you vanished Stevie.. And you left me alone with our baby… You l-left for P-Peggy… I don’t hate her, I swear, but at that moment my blood was boiling! And I just wanted to beat the shit outta everyone...”

Steve was mortified, and he reminded himself to breathe as his hands started to shake, surprisingly. He continued to caress your back, knowing better than to interrupt you. Every time you hiccuped, sniffled, his heart shattered even more, and he wanted to cry with you.

“And I got so angry… I- Oh my god Steve I-I k-killed him. I killed our son…”

You whispered the last part, and if it wasn’t for his super soldier hearing, he would’ve never heard it.

“I’m a monster Stevie… This, this enhancement is a curse… I’m so scared”

Your voice was trembling and Steve lifted your chin up. He’d tell you about what he saw later. Right now, he just needed to take care of his girl.

“Doll. Y/N, baby, look at me. You are not a monster. That sokovian chick was just tryna mess with your mind. Don’t you ever think so lowly of yourself, cause you aren’t low. At all. I love you, so, so much, and I would never leave you… You’re my girl. And I cherish you, and I live for you, and I'll die for you if I have to… I just wish you’d understand it like I do baby… I’m not Steve from the 40’s, and I’m certainly not the Steve who fell in love with Peggy… She’ll always have a special place in my heart… She was my best girl after all… But you? Oh no, baby, you’re different. You’re my forever girl.”

You smiled softly at him, and when he pecked your lips, trying to see if you were okay with his more invasive touch, you responded with enthusiasm, deepening it. He groaned as you tried to put your tongue in his mouth, but he parted suddenly, leaving you a breathless mess.

“Stevie?”

“I told you you were my forever girl, but i want to prove it to you honey… I want to prove to you that you deserve all the love in the world and that I’ll be worthy of you.”

He kissed you again, before grasping your waist and flipping you over. You grinned, still feeling a few tears on your cheeks as your face muscles worked. His blue eyes were piercing into yours, making your cheeks heat up.

“I love you, light of my life…”

You giggled, clutching his cheeks. His orbs searched yours, and he told you everything he felt through them.

“I love you too, cinnamon…”

You called him that when you teased him for not liking cinnamon, and would put a tad in his tea, just to annoy him. Steve rubbed his nose over yours, his small eye wrinkles showing his happiness. You felt his hands slide along your body, feeling you up.

“I love this body… love the way you feel, love how soft you are…”

You sighed, getting yourself comfortable as you understood what was going to happen. He lifted your night shirt, exposing your soft stomach, who had toned more after the numerous missions and training. Steve kissed your belly, slightly blowing in your belly button, making you giggle. He lIcked his lips when he lifted the shirt higher, eventually helping you take the clothing off, revealing your breasts. The sudden rush of cold air made you shiver, and your brown nipples instantly hardened. With the one hand that wasn’t holding your hip, he started tweaking them, and you whimpered. Steve’s cock stirred in his pants.

“I love these too… they’re so pretty, and soft, could suck on them all day if you’d let me…”

He continued to appreciate your body as he encapsulated your nipple with his mouth. You almost whined, but stopped yourself, knowing you two were not in the seclusion of your closed quarters, but in a house where all your teammates and children were sleeping.

Steve licked the hard bud a few times, tasting the salty flesh that had a small cocoa butter aftertaste. He listened to your small pants with joy, his ego boosting up every time he pleasured you. He wasn’t going to tell you, after the rather traumatic day and memories, but he couldn’t help but imagine what your boobs would look like full and round with milk. They would definitely leak, and the blond imagined liquid amber-like milk pooling into his mouth, and he sucked harder, making your eyes roll back into your skull.

“Ah’, you tried to whisper, ‘Steve…”

With a pop, he let go of your breast, before doing the same to the other, only this time, he slot his knee in between your thighs, moving it in an up-and-down motion, grazing your pussy through your leggings. He smirked against your body when he felt you grind down, pleasuring yourself.

“That’s it Doll, use me, rub that pretty pussy all over me…”

Ah. it had started. Steve’s foul mouth. He talked so dirty during sex, a funny contrast to his eloquant, everyday, Captain speech. That’s when you loved him the most: raw, dismantled, real, Steve. When he was finally done with your torso, not that you were complaining, this man sure knew how to make you come just by nipple stimulation, he kissed your neck sucking a hickey on your collar bones. You gasped; there was normally a ‘no visible marks’ rule when you were on duty, but Steve wanted to show his love too much to care. And if that meant bruising your neck to let everyone know you were his, he’d do it.

Between the knee rubbing and the pulse point nipping, you felt yourself becoming wetter, and soon enough, you just wanted more. Your hips started thrashing against him, wanting to let him know that you wanted more.

“Mhm… honey… You’re wet, aren’t ya? Can smell that delicious pussy from here…”

He took a long whif, making you blush, before he bit your neck rather harshly, making you yelp. You slapped his forearm gently scolding him, but he just chuckled and licked the spot, soothing the mark with his tongue.

“now , let’s getchu out of these pants… i just wanna feel you all clenchy 'round my dick, baby”

You gasped exaggeratedly, looking at him in the eyes:

“Language! “

Steve shook his head playfully but said nothing, too occupied by taking your leggings off. You lifted your hips and butt as he pulled them down, revealing your simple black underwear that you wore for missions. He smirk became even wider, and he gently slapped your supple, brown thighs, loving the way they jiggled under his touch.

“Look at these thighs, Mama… God, you’re hot”

You hummed, acknowledging his words, and he continued to feel this scarred and bumpy muscle, marked by the years of fighting, stretch marks and a few cellulite patches here and there. He bent down, kissing every inch of skin he could get his mouth on, and he admired the brown, shiny skin that enveloped your body. During the 40’s, it was forbidden for white and black people to get married, but that didn’t mean it never happened. Steve remembered the scandal of the neighborhood: one of the butcher’s sons had fallen in love with this gorgeous black woman who worked for a rich white family. The whole neighborhood had put shame on the son, who eventually moved out and ran away with his lady. Steve also reminicised how his mother had sat him down at the table, telling him that “the black folks should get married with the black folks, and the white folks with the white folks, it’s better that way.”

Oh how he would laugh at his Ma’s face if she saw him right now, his head between a black woman’s thighs.

The blond thought about Bucky who had just shrugged when they talked about that ‘incident’:

“I mean… Did you see William’s dame? If I was him, I would’ve done the same… can’t let that gorgeous woman be without me. I don’t give no care for color; if the girl’s pretty, the girl’s pretty…”

Buck would certainly be proud of him for managing to pull a beautiful woman like yourself.

He got out of his thoughts when he heard you whine quietly.

“I gotchu baby, I’ll give you what you want… patience my dear..”

He moved up to your level, his face pressed into your neck, torso against yours. He was almost crushing you, but you loved that feeling: you felt safe when he acted like a weighted blanket. You curled your arms around him, sliding your hands into his blond hair. You inhaled sharply when he pulled your panties to the side, exposing your darker folds to his greedy fingers. He gently pressed his hand on your mons pubis, feeling the small pouch. He laughed when you gave him a death glare, and your hips were moving upwards, trying to get his hand to touch lower.

“And I love this pretty pussy… Look at her, all opened up for me, can’t wait to have my fingers in her, can’t she?”

You groaned, slightly annoyed by his teasing.

“No Stevie, she can’t wait… better put your hands to good use, or I’ll do it m’self.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but didn’t have time to retort when his middle and index fingers swiped over your clit, making you keen. He hummed and continued, showing the little bundle of nerves some love. He rubbed it slowly, sometimes pausing to suck on his fingers a bit, adding lubrication to the whole act. You panted, trying to be quiet, and when a finger started entering you, he lifted himself up, placing his other hand on your mouth.

“Shh honey…. You don’t wanna wake everyone up, don’tcha?”

You shook your head and he released his hand:

“Good girl… you’re my good fuckin’ girl.”

He started moving his finger into you, shivering at the way your tight walls were clenching around a single digit. You panted, pawing at Steve’s shoulders and purring in his ear.

“Mhm… Stevie…’, you dragged out, ‘Put another finger in me, c.mon, make me cum…”

He did exactly what you’d asked him, and you moaned in his hair, trying to muffle your noises.

“Yeah baby, y’like when I play with your pussy? Like it when I finger this greedy fuckin’ pussy?”

“God, Stevie, ya got a mouth on you…”

He smirked, his ego going up a notch, as he felt you tighten down on him due to his filthy words. He continued fingering you to oblivion, rubbing on the spongy spots in you that always made you tremble and beg for more. You whimpered and he scissored his fingers in you, the obscene squelch of his fingers had pink dusting over Steve’s pale cheeks. The only things you could focus on were the in and out motions of Steve’s fingers in you, the blunt nails scraping the moist muscle, his big thumb rubbing your clit in now fast, precise circles, and of course, his never ending rant about how he loved your cunt.

“D’ya hear that doll? Hear how noisy that greedy kitty of yours is? Shit, fuckin’ swallowin my fingers…”

He was so deep in you, and when he hit the spot, you almost screamed. His head shot up, leaving its place from the crook of your neck and he captured your lips with his, hushing your moans. He used all of his arms’ strength to plow you, and your thighs shaked around his forearm. Your heart was thrumming, and you became hotter with every stroke. The first time Steve made you come, it had been a while since the last time you had sex, and he was startled by how hot your body heat became. Now, he was used to it, and relished the feeling of your burning hot heat clenching around him.

White hot pleasure invaded all your senses, and he continued pulling and pushing his fingers. You wanted to wail, purr, claw his back, but you didn’t have time: your whole body trembled, and after a few rubs on your engorged clit, you came, muffling your cries of ecstasy in your lover’s mouth.

Tears of pure, sheer pleasure fell down your face, replacing the old, sad ones, and Steve grabbed your cheek with his clean hand, watching your face in awe. You were glowing, and he was sure that only goddesses looked that ethereal when they came; and Steve was pretty certain you were one.

“Shh… shh honey, you were so good t’me, creaming all over my fingers, I love you….”

You hiccuped, rubbing your face over his neck, breathing his reassuring scent.

“*hic* I-I love you too…”

He smiled the sweetest smile at you, showing off his perfect pearly whites. You watched him with hooded eyelids as he unbuckled his belt, the clings of the metal making your abused pussy clench again. He sighed when his enormous bulge came out of the confines of the jeans, and he couldn’t help but squeeze his length through his boxers. You giggled, and he smirked bashfully, looking at you from underneath his long lashes. You slowly spread your legs, revealing your glistening folds to him. He groaned and you bit your lip. His boxers pooled at his feets, and he quickly stepped out of them. His tight, blue shirt was next, and goddamn, someone get this man a bra!

He stood there, his naked glory making him look like some statue crafted like the gods. Your core thrummed, and he stalked towards you, hard dick swinging with every step he took. He crawled on the bed, his blue eyes now darkened by lust. He settled between your thighs, licking his lips and you watched him play with his dick, tugging it a few times, getting it fully hard. You inhaled everytime his muscles rippled and his veins popped out. His pink, uncut cock was wetting itself with the unnatural load of precum he was producing, and he would exhale sharply when he pressed his index on the fat tip. When he was satisfied, he stood on his knees, his right hand parting your thighs, and with the other, he guided himself in your waiting core. You two hissed as he entered you, your walls recognizing the familiar shape and girth of him, and they fluttered around him, letting him in.

“Goddamn baby, that fuckin’ cunt!”

He groaned and fell on top of you again, keeping himself steadied thanks to his forearms. You purred as he bottomed out completely, feeling him in you. He didn’t move for a while, just letting you feel him. He locked eyes with you, and he was so close that your breaths mixed together. He stared at you, and you swore you saw his eyes twinkle. Lifting your head up, you kissed him, tongues mingling together. He started moving, his cock dragging against your walls, and you threw your head back, your back arching. Steve kept watching. His eyes never left your undulating body, and he completely forgot about the fact that he was supposed to be fucking you. He slowed his movements and his heart beat hard in his chest as you moaned lowly. Fuck, he loved you.

“You’re staring, Stevie, aren’t you supposed to be fucking me?”

His eyes went wide, and he huffed out, a shy smile adorning his features.

“Sorry doll, you’re just so beautiful…”

You giggled and shook your head, but it was quickly dissolved by a groan as he pushed in suddenly, hitting your cervix. Your boyfriend started plowing in you, literally re-arranging your insides. It was so hard to stay quiet, and Steve lifted himself on one arm, and pushed his other thumb in your mouth, helping you keep your mouth closed. Your eyes rolled back, and you moaned as you tasted the salty, tangy flesh that tasted so… Steve.

Sometimes, in these moments of intimacy you felt powerful: you were the only one who could make your Stevie act like this; no one had to know that you sucked Steve’s thumb like it was his cock, and that he talked to you in a way that would make a fisherman blush… It was just your own, little dirty secret.

The blond started panting, releasing little huh huh huh’s and you clenched down on his length, enjoying the way he sputtered out a curse. His hips were undulating with yours, and you two were moving like one single being. His cock was hitting deep in your pussy, and you felt the fat head rub your g-spot, making you mewl, your face buried between his pecs. You tilted your head, watching where you and your lover were connected: his thick, long shaft was disappearing in you with every thrust, and your hungry pussy welcomed him with open legs and wetness. You were coating his dick and the blond hairs at the base with love juice, and the filthy wet noises could be heard again. Steve was growling in your ear, whispering obscene things to you.

“Yeah, that’s it honey. Take that dick, take it.” “Oooh shit, your pussy’s a champ, fuck, squeezin’ me so darn good doll…” “Hun, y’feel that? Feel how deep i am in this greedy cunt of yours?” “Give it t’me, honey, c’mon take what you need then give it t’me”

At this point, you were an absolute mess. You were shaking in his arms as his cock reached depts only he could explore, and as he hit your g-spot over and over again, you started sobbing, the bliss you were feeling almost becoming unbearable. He made you feel incredible, he made you feel beautiful, but most importantly, he made you feel loved.

You moaned as he slammed his hips in you, stilling, before repeating the motion. Flames deliciously licked your veins, and you felt something powerful building in your belly. Steve felt it too, because before you knew it, he was nibbling your nipples softly and pinching your clit, adding even more stimulation. With a thumb-muffled shout, you came harder than ever, wetting his lower half, your inner thighs and his as well.

Hiccuping, you whined as he filled you with his cum, after feeling you clamp down on him multiple times. You sniffled happily when you felt his seed venture in your womb, and as Steve came down from his high, you kissed his face, trying to get your lips on every mole, freckle and dimple. He started chuckling and hugged you tightly, kissing your neck. After a while of just laying in each other’s embrace, basking in the afterglow, Steve lifted himself up, clutching your face in between his hands, like you knew he loved to do. The position was perfect to look at you in the eyes, and he grinned lovingly at your fucked up face:

“My forever girl…”

Fin.

A/N: i think i should just stick to writing p0rn without plot, plots are so complicated… but be indulgent pls lmao it’s been a while… i hope y’all can forgive me for my scattered brain and her ideas

Feedback/reblogs are v appreciated <3❤ I spent a lot of time on this one, and I hope it won’t flop

tagging who might be interested: (sorry if i bothered u!)

@honeychicana @cloudystevie @sabinemorans @retroxvailles @ballyhoobarnes @lilbabycee @titty-teetee @hermayone @geniedetails @bucky-the-thigh-slayer @p---ink @frostedfavesmain @smediumsmeatbae @dangerouslovefanfic @honeyloverogers @stargazingfangirl18 @nina-skyee

divider credit: @writeyourmindaway

#emily writes #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x black!reader #steve rogers x woc!reader #woc reader #woc reader insert #black reader #black reader insert #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fandom #steve rogers smut #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x you

250 notes · View notes

starbuckie · 3 years

Text

𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬

challenge: winter warmers writing challenge by @spaceodditybarnes

prompt: “it’s beginning to look a lot like christmas” by michael buble

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

words: 2k without lyrics, 2.1k with lyrics

warnings: i genuinely don’t think i can say anything besides FLUFF, oh wait theres some mentions of the shmexy sex (i promise im a functioning person)

summary: in which they take a little holiday stroll and talk about what they are.

a/n: THIS MADE ME VERY HAPPY THANK YOU FOR HOSTING THIS CHALLENGE JADE!!! i kinda veered off the idea of christmas with this one, but my mind created another idea and i kinda just went with the flow. anyways, i really enjoyed writing this one, and i hope you all had a lovely holiday season <3 LOTS OF LOVE Y’ALL

main masterlist || sebastian stan characters masterlist

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Everywhere you go

Take a look at the five and ten, it’s glistening once again

With candy cane and silver lanes that glow

Snow sprinkled to the buildings and sidewalks of Midtown Manhattan, making the traffic clog up to the oh so lovely sounds of taxis and cars honking. It was far from what people pictured it, really, New York was absolute hell during the holiday season. Sloshing boots and teens smoking pot outside the scantily decorated discount store that held very little, sad-looking Christmas lights.

It didn’t bother Bucky. No, he had never been a big fan of the holiday season. Even back in the forties, with his ma and little sisters, they had never been huge on celebrating Christmas, instead choosing to work those shifts during the holiday so they could make a buck or two more to hold them over. Now in the twenty-first century, the holiday just reminded him how truly lonely he was, everyone and everything he used to know long gone.

But then he found Y/N. Granted, it had not been a formal introduction. The poor girl had nearly damn run him over with her motorcycle for Christ’s sake, but nonetheless she crawled into his heart that cold December morning two years ago, and had not left ever since.

Now she walked by his side at Rockefeller Center, her cold fingers intertwined with his warm ones, admiring the tree while he admired her. He already had every part of her memorized, from late night escapades in the sheets to studying the slope of her nose at team breakfasts. Even when he wasn’t with her, he was always looking at her, unable to pull his eyes away from Y/N’s radiance.

This little… dalliance of theirs had only started a year back, and they had still yet to put a label on it. Sam had called it friends with benefits, Sharon called it being a couple without the name. Bucky had shut both of those ideas down, claiming that they were taking it slow and weren’t looking to call it anything yet they still had not really talked about it. Was it really worth ruining the bond he had with the girl he fell madly in love with? Whatever it was, they had never taken time out of their day to actually discuss what they meant to each other, but, God, he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t want to know.

“Bucky?” Her sweet voice brought him out of his thoughts, the glittering red and white lights of the Christmas tree reflecting in her eyes. “You seem kind of distracted right now, sweetheart, are you bored? We can head back to the compound if you like.”

He smiled at her worried tone, delicately kissing the tip of her nose. “‘M just thinking, doll, wanna stay as long as I can out here with you.”

The grin he received in return was breathtaking, her red-painted lips turned upwards and a little twinkle (literally and metaphorically) in her eyes. “Good.”

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Toys in every store

But the prettiest sight to see, is the holly that will be

On your own front door

“Oh, look at that helicopter, Buck! That’s so cool!” Y/N pointed at a little boy in the store controlling the airborne toy with a small remote. “They didn't have those when I was a kid, I just had my Tamagotchi.”

He scrunched his nose, staring at her with an emotion that could be described as nothing other than distaste. “What the hell is a Tamagotchi?”

“A Tamagotchi was like this little digital pet thing that you could take care of, mainly used for kids who were trying to prove to their parents that they could take care of a real pet. That’s why I had one at least, but I never did get a tabby cat like I wanted.” Y/N continued to ramble about her weird pet thing as they walked through the toy store, though Bucky didn’t really care. But he’d never stop her either. The way her eyes lit up in childlike wonder and her fascination with the toys on the shelves was too precious to destroy. This was the girl who he had seen slit throats and blow aliens’ brains out, and in the moment she was ogling an American Girl Doll like it was the last pancake at the breakfast table.

Y/N finally convinced herself that she was done looking at the toys, claiming that she was too mature for such things (she really wasn’t), but he let her lead him out the door, before she halted right in the doorway. “What is it, honey?”

“Mistletoe.” He glanced up at the little sprig of green and red berries above their heads, hanging by a small strand of twine. A small group of kids with families stood around, watching them with both happy and annoyed faces. How could they not notice Y/N L/N and Bucky Barnes? Bucky’s vibranium arm may have been recognizable, but Y/N’s cheery, a little-louder-than-normal humming had caused a little group to watch them throughout the store. “I think they’re waiting for us to kiss, Buck.”

She leaned into him, placing her lips on his and placing her freezing hands on his cheekbones. Though Bucky had never been big on PDA, the rest of the world seemed to slip away when he was with her. He grinned into her lips, hugging her tightly around the waist so she squealed. When he forced herself away from her intoxicating mouth, she was sporting a bright smile and smudged lipstick that had rubbed off onto his.

Giggling, she took her thumb and swiped off some of the red residue she had left. “You had a little something there, sweetheart.”

A pair of hopalong boots and a pistol that shoots

Is the wish of Barney and Ben

Dolls that’ll talk and will go for a walk

Is the hope of Janice and Jen

Bucky watched Y/N point out all the different street cart vendors as they walked to Radio City Music Hall. She’d insisted that they go look at the window displays there as well, and who was he to argue? Strangely enough, they hadn’t talked much, other than the occasional “are you cold” from Bucky, to which Y/N assured him she was not. Her quiet voice sang the lyrics to Last Christmas when a little girl stopped in front of them, two auburn braids and green eyes boring straight into hers.

The small child pulled on Y/N’s skirt, a silent plea to go down to her height. “Hi there, are you lost, sweetie?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” she looked back to an older woman, who gave her a thumbs up and a smile, “because you are my favorite superhero and I hope you have a very good Christmas.”

Y/N nearly melted at the toothless smile the girl, who she assumed was named Sadie by the necklace she wore. “Thank you so much, sweetheart. I hope you have a good Christmas too, and do you know this guy?” She dragged Bucky down next to her, the large, buff man hulking over the small girl. “This is my friend Bucky, do you know him?”

He eyed her warily, as if he were absolutely terrified of the tiny human. “You’re the Winter Soldier!”

Uh oh. The name was one that struck a chord of fear through everyone, still in shock of the events that had taken place in D.C. in 2014. While he and Sam had tried to label a new brand for the Avengers, people didn’t forget all the horrors of HYDRA and their prized assassin. Of course it hadn’t been him, even he knew that, but trying to convince people otherwise still made him feel guilty.

“You’re my second favorite Avenger, after Y/N, of course.” Sadie brought her hand to hover over Bucky’s vibranium one, her eyes wide with excitement. “Mr. Bucky, can I touch your metal arm?”

The man in question could barely utter out a word, muttering some sort of agreement before nodding with a timid smile. Giddily, she touched his arm, feeling all the cool ridges of gold-plated vibranium against the gun-grey metal. Sadie continued to pelt questions at him, about Sam and Redwing to his “adventures” with Y/N on the team.

Bucky, though shy at first, got more and more relaxed as they continued their conversation, his grin growing wider. Y/N loved her fans, she loved them so, so dearly, but seeing them interact with the man she loved was something different. Not a bad different, but a word that could only be described as pure joy.

“Darling, I think we better leave Ms. L/N and Mr. Barnes alone. Say thank you and happy holidays.” The little girl looked sad, turning to look at her mom with a little pout, but she reluctantly obliged and soon the duo were off, into the crowded streets once again.

“Y’know once upon a time I had dreamed about having kids,” Bucky commented. They walked along the sidewalks in a comfortable quiet after the encounter with Sadie, but Bucky’s mind had not stopped reeling from the happiness his conversation brought him. “Was gonna come home from the war, settle down with a gal, and live to be at least seventy years old.”

“Well, I can tell you you’re good on the last bit of that, Buck.” He snorted at her jab at his age, something that has become a norm for their little makeshift family of four. “What do you want now?”

He stopped in his tracks and looked over at her with a fond tilt of his lips. “Oh, just something real special.”

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Toys in every store

But the prettiest sight to see, is the holly that will be

On your own front door

“Y/N, what are we?” She glanced over at him from where they sat on the Met stairs, giving their feet a break from walking for hours.

“What do you mean, Buck?”

He grabbed her hands and held them to his chest, trying to make her understand the amount of confusion and impatience he had with this one burdening question. “We’ve been sleeping together for a year, Y/N. We make each other breakfast, we go out together, I literally have half of my closet dedicated to your stuff, but even after all that we haven’t given us a name yet.”

Y/N sat in stunned silence, staring at the outburst from the man in front of her. To be completely honest she had never really thought about the question, choosing to enjoy each second she got to spend with the wonderful man with her. What she had noticed however, was how whenever they parted ways or were in the most intimate of moments, three little words nearly slipped off of her tongue. Every. Single. Time.

“Well, what do you want to be, Bucky?”

“I want to be the man you love. I want to be the man who loves you with his entire heart, though I like to think I already am. I want you to be my best gal more than anything in the world, and that I want to be the man who gets to hold and love you every night.” Slowly they drifted to each other, a magnetic pull bringing them to each other. “What do you think, doll?”

“I think,” her lips split into a grin, hovering over his own with the exact same expression, “that I want to be your best girl and the one who gets to make you pancakes in the morning and I want to be the one you get a cat with, who we’ll name Alpine because if I know you, names are the most important part of having a pet. I want to be held and loved by you every night, Bucky Barnes, and I am the girl who loves you more than anything in this entire damn world.”

Not another second to spare, Bucky pulled Y/N in close, letting himself get lost in one of her sweet, loving kisses, finally knowing that he was hers and she was his. At long last.

Sure, it’s Christmas once more

147 notes · View notes

crystaljins · 3 years

Text

River lead me home | 07

Characters: Kim Seokjin x reader

Word count: 7.3k

Synopsis: Ever since coming to the human realm when you were child, nothing seems to fit, and this was just supposed to be a simple roadtrip to help you find yourself.

Is that too much to ask for?

Spin-off to A long journey home

Rating: Teens

Genre: Adventure, fluff, angst

Notes: Hey all! Long time no see! I’m not really sure why I took so long to post... I just felt like I put so much work into this fic that I didn’t want it to be over so easily, and I was like “after this there’s only one more chapter!!” AND THEN! I went into my WIPs folder and made a discovery! THere’s 9 parts to this fic!! So now I feel a little better.

ANyway, PLEASE let me know if you like this chapter because I definitely feel like it’s the emotional climax of the whole story. ALl the stuff that happens from this point on is just... like a really long epilogue.

Tags: @blue1928 @veeparkersstuff @nello-rie (soz it won’t tag you!)

Masterlist

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 FINAL

You may be a guardian, but even you have your limits. Despite your best attempts to move quickly, the pain in your shoulder rapidly becomes overwhelming.

Jin, frustratingly, picks up on it far sooner than you would prefer.

“I think we need to stop for a break.” He comments. The three of you have barely been walking for an hour and at any moment the Saishta’s could be upon you, ready to take you to their queen.

Jungkook looks like he wants to protest.

“We’re so close though! It’s only a little while longer!” He points out, glancing nervously across the expansive plains. The benefit of them is that you’d spot any Saishtas from miles away, given the hulking, monstrous beasts they tend to use as their mounts.

Jungkook folds his arms. “I think it’s a bad idea to stop now. We need to get to the river and we’re sitting ducks out on the plains like this.”

Jin shoots Jungkook a withering look- this is nothing new, but the venom in Jin’s eyes surprises you. As much as he pretends to hate the tiny pixie, he doesn’t actually mean it.

Jungkook shrivels a bit but doesn’t back down. Luckily (or rather, unluckily), their stand-off is halted by your legs deciding they are no longer strong enough to hold your body up. Blood loss and extreme pain will do that, apparently.

Jin catches you as you crumble, smoothly scooping an arm around your waist and gently tugging you towards him until your weight is supported by his frame. The entire time, he does not tear his gaze from his stare-off with Jungkook. And apparently your weakness is the convincing Jungkook needs to show it’s time for a break. He glares at Jin for another couple of moments before releasing an annoyed huff.

“I’ll cast a disguising spell on you two and scout out the area for any of those annoying reptiles. Don’t move from this spot or the spell will become ineffective.” He announces through grit teeth before zooming off like an angry mosquito.

When he’s out of earshot, Jin turns his gaze to you and gently lowers you to the ground until you are seated amongst the stiff golden stems. He doesn’t release you from his carefully hold, however. Instead, he shifts until he is sitting almost nose-to-nose with you.

“That was strange of Jungkook.” You observe, in an attempt to cover your discomfort at his proximity. You wonder if Jin knows how powerful his good looks are up close. He probably does- he’s never pretended to be anything other than devastatingly handsome.

“He’s scared.” Jin answers with pursed lips. His gaze isn’t on your face, however. It’s fixed on your injured shoulder. Slowly, he raises a hand and gently rests his palm against the front of your shoulder. “You would be too if you could see how terrible you look right now.”

If you are surprised by the single tear that rolls down your face in response, it is nothing compared to Jin’s horrified reaction as he realises what he has done. Apparently, this whole being in love thing sucks.

“W-wait!” Jin protests, absolutely horrified. “I-I didn’t mean it like that-“

You quickly scrub at your face with your uninjured arm. You know, in theory, that Jin didn’t mean that you looked terrible as in that he thought you were ugly. And you know in theory that it is therefore stupid to cry over it. But for some reason, that’s where your mind had gone- reminding you like an ever present shadow just how misplaced you look next to him, how there’s nothing you can give him that he can’t find in a million other girls, and just how little he thinks of you.

You’re surprised when his hand replaces yours, far gentler than you had been as he wipes the tears from your face with a careful swipe of his thumb.

“Hey,” he calls, grabbing your chin in his hand and angling your face until you’re forced to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean that you... that you...” he voice cracks and he hangs his head, dropping his hands so he can clench his fists in his lap. “It’s not fun being reminded of how close we came to losing you.” Jin finally says. He drops his hand and his shoulders slump like he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders.

You don’t know this Jin. This terrified, uncertain man. He’s never once, in the entire time you’ve known him, shown this vulnerable, fragile side of himself. But you know you’re in trouble because you love this side of him too. The part of him that gets scared, that shows weakness, that can break. As much as you hate the fact that it is you who has made him like this, you are grateful that he trusts you enough to show himself, warts and all, and you feel something molten in your chest as you silently promise yourself that you’ll protect him. No matter what, you’ll keep him safe. Even if you’re not particularly smart or pretty or charming. You’re not the model-like, glamourous, genius girls he normally dates, and you never will be. You’re unemployed and clumsy and socially awkward and you’re selfish and childish on top of all that. But this is what you can offer him: your heart, as pathetic as she is, and the promise to protect him, no matter where he goes or ends up in life.

“I know you didn’t mean it like that. I... just... It’s stupid.” You sigh at yourself before lifting your gaze to watch him. “Are you scared?” You finally question, changing the subject as the last of your tears dry. Jin frowns, nodding slightly.

“A little.” He admits, his tone a bit dry like he’s severely understating his feelings on the matter. And you don’t know why, but something prompts you to reach forward and wrap your hand around his. Perhaps it is the slight shake he tried to hide by gripping the material of his pants so hard his knuckles go white. His hand is surprisingly much bigger than yours- you don’t know why that surprises you, but it does.

“Don’t worry.” You reassure him. “I’ll protect you.”

The corner of his lip quirks and he shoots you an oddly fond look. It’s one you’ve seen before, although not directed at you. You’ve seen him look that way when he speaks about a particularly endearing coworker, or he recalls something silly that Namjoon has done. This is the first time you’ve been on the receiving end.

“In that state?” He questions with a raised brow. You feel yourself bristle a little defensively at the slightly patronising way he is coming across.

“Are you laughing?” You press, slightly offended. “You don’t think I can?”

“No.” Jin answers, turning to you with an odd sort of expression to his face. “I know you will. That’s the problem.” And then, in spite of himself, he offers you a full-blown smile, cheerful and happy like you’ve never really seen before. You are momentarily struck speechless, mesmerised by the sight before you. “But thank you. I’m glad, that I can count on you.”

Something warm and eager blooms in your chest at his words. You cup your hands around his face and you admire the openness of his smile. How great would it be, if you could capture that smile in a picture and keep it forever? If you could preserve the way he’s looking at you right now, so that you always remember with clarity that even if he doesn’t love you, Jin can look at you like this. Like you are something precious and adored. This is the man you get to love. Even if he doesn’t feel the same way, you’re still happy. You feel like this love is a happy thing.

“I’m starting to think you only wanted to rest to pull the moves on her.” Jungkook announces his presence, seeming thoroughly unimpressed. He folds his arms as the air shimmers around him, signalling the dispersion of his illusory magic. “‘Let’s go see the river, Jungkook. It’ll be fun. I’ll get over my trauma.’ If you’d told me being a third wheel was in the job description, I never would have come.” Jungkook grumbles as Jin quickly pulls away. You don’t quite catch the way his ears go red and his face seems to burn where your hands had gently cradled him, but Jungkook does, and he merely rolls his eyes at the sight. “It’s time to go.” He urges.

Jin clears his throat awkwardly, scrabbling to his feet and dusting off his trousers before extending his hand out to you.

“C’mon.” He urges, though his tone seems gruffer than before. “Jungkook’s right. The Saishtas will find us at this rate.”

You hesitate, just a moment, before gratefully accepting his hand as he tugs you to your feet.

Oddly, though you expect him to release your hand once you are standing, he does no such thing. Instead, he wraps his hand around yours and uses it to tug you along as the three of you once again set off.

“It’ll be easier for you to keep up.” Is all Jin offers as explanation for why he continues to grip onto your hand as though you’re planning to flee from him the second that he releases you. You stare in confusion for a moment, trying to puzzle out Jin’s behaviour, but he provides no further insight.

The three of you set a much more rapid pace this time, and after your brief rest, you cope much better. Jin eventually releases your hand when it becomes clear you’re gradually regaining your strength as your enhanced healing kicks in. The sun begins to draw close to the horizon and the brilliant blue above begins to deepen into a soft pink. But you realise something, as you continue your advance.

There’s no sound of a river. Over the expansive plains, the river song should carry easily on the warm, sweet breeze. And it should be in view by now, but it’s not. Instead, what you see is a dark, jagged line slicing through the plains like a gaping wound. It’s the edge of a ravine- there’s no river in sight.

“Something’s not right- “ you breathe, only for the breath to be knocked clean from your lungs as Jin throws his full body weight at you, unprompted. You roll a few times from the force of his tackle, before finally landing with his body crouched over you protectively. Your eyes widen in shock, glancing over to where you had stood moment before, only to see the end of an arrow lodged in the ground.

“See!” Jin croaks, hovering over you. “How hard was that? Tackle, don’t push, (Y/N)! If you’re gonna be saving people at least take that on board.” He scolds, in what is clearly the beginning of a Jant. (Jin rant)

“Now’s not the time, Jin!” Jungkook screeches.

“I’m just saying,” Jin cries, as he scrambles off you and yanks you to your feet by your good arm. “How hard would it have been to tackle me instead of taking an arrow to the shoulder?”

His Jant is interrupted by the dreadful sound of the Saishta hunting horn erupting from behind you. Only, this time, there is nowhere to run. Yes, you could easily outrun them, but to where? You have long left the safety of the forest where there are endless places to safely conceal yourself once you’ve outrun them. But here is only open plains, followed by a sheer cliff face. There is a bridge across the river, in the maps you’ve seen, but those maps have also told you there’s a river where there’s nothing but a deathly ravine. Still, the bridge is supposedly about a kilometre south of where you now stand, and it’s your only hope. But will you be able to run that far in this state?

The ravine hovers on the edge of your vision, out towards the west, and you can now make out the hulking forms of the Saishta mounts, as their hunting party makes its slow, arrogant prowl towards you. The mounts of Saishtas do not run- they believe that persistence will allow them to eventually capture any prey. Eventually, all targets must tire, or reach the end, and that is when the Saishta can make the kill. They seem confident that that’s the situation the three of you are in now. You could flee, but if you give away that your destination is the river (or ravine?), you’ll never be able to safely see it, for they will guard it until the end of time.

“Sssurrender!” They call, now barely a hundred metres away.

“We’ll have to fight.” You announce to your companions, who both whip their heads around to glare at you with incredulity.

“Are you crazy?” Jungkook cries.

You clench your teeth as you slip into a familiar stance, holding up your arms as you prepare to fight.

“It’s our only option.” You point out, wincing as your shoulder protests at the stance you are currently in.

Jin takes one look at you and the advancing Saishtas and then he does possibly the most unexpected thing he could have done.

He throws you over his shoulder like you are a sack of potatoes and legs it.

“This way!” Jungkook encourages, zooming southwards towards where you know the bridge is.

“Jin!” You cry in protest, but he doesn’t respond. “Jin, stop! I was going to fight them!”

“No!” Jin snaps. “You were going to die. Or at least, you were going to try to and this time I’m not letting you.”

You stop struggling, slumping against his back.

“Not again.” Jin promises. “You won’t get hurt again. ‘I won’t stop and think while you’re in danger.’” He tells you, echoing your earlier words to him. For some reason, it leaves you unable to retort. “Now if I set you down, will you run with me, or will you do something stupid?”

You purse your lips in annoyance, trying to hold yourself stable as you flop around on Jin’s shoulder. You can see the Saishta making their slow, confident prowl behind you. They won’t shoot any more arrows at this proximity- after all, their aim is to capture you, not kill.

“I’ll run.” You silently agree. Jin gives you absolutely no warning as he practically flings you back onto the ground, grabbing your hand as he tugs you on in a full-on sprint.

“We’re almost there!” Jungkook cries, zooming slightly ahead of the two of you. Ahead, the great stone structure that comprises the great bridge that can carry you to safety on the other side of the ravine. You swallow your desperate, heaving breaths, ignoring the way your weakened body protests at the exertion. If you can just get to the bridge, there’s a forest on the other side of the river. The three of you can easily conceal yourselves there, and then come back under the cover of night and investigate why there’s a ravine here instead of a river.

The ground firms beneath you as it transitions from soft, loamy soil to a firm, well cut stone path. An arrow whizzes just past your ear and bounces off the stone path- a warning shot from the pursuing hunting party.

You squeeze your eyes shut as the three of you reach the edge of the bridge. The ravine is huge, and the bridge stretches ahead of you.

And then it sounds. Another hunting horn, a sound that will probably haunt you for the remainder of your days. But this one is from the opposite side of the bridge, where you are fleeing to.

Jin’s footsteps slow alongside yours, and Jungkook’s frantic buzzing becomes a slow, confused flutter as the three of you gradually draw the same conclusion.

You’re trapped. There are Saishtas awaiting you on either side of the bridge. No matter which way you try to break through, you will have to fight through them. No wonder they were so confident they could catch you.

“We’ll have to fight.” You breathe, trying to slow your exhausted, rapid breathing. Jin is soaked with sweat and even Jungkook seems flushed with the exertion of your desperate sprint.

“We can’t.” Jin reminds you, out of breath and still gripping onto your hand so hard it hurts. “You’ll die.”

“We’ll die if they capture us too!” You point out. You can now see the Saishtas on both ends of the bridge, closing in on the three of you like a pack of hunting dogs. “I’m so sorry Jin- this is all my fault! It’s not even a river- it’s some kind of ravine! I dragged us all the way here for nothing.”

“Jin!” Jungkook calls, but you ignore him, too caught up in the realisation of what you’ve done.

“He told me nature doesn’t change but that was stupid! Of course it changes- it’s been 1000 years and I just believed like an idiot that the river would still be here.” You cry, tears flowing down your face.

“Jin!” Jungkook calls, and this time, Jin claps free his hand over your mouth to stop your desperate monologuing.

“What now?” Jin demands of the small pixie. The pixie in question bites his lip and looks from side to side at the Saishtas who watch you almost lazily across the length of the bridge. They have all the time in the world, after all- where can the three of you go except over the edge of the bridge, where you will surely meet your demise?

“‘The river loves those who take the plunge.’” Jungkook recites, gesturing out to the endless, gaping ravine behind you.

You stare in confusion, but understanding dawns in Jin’s eyes as he leans over the low stone wall and stares down at the bottomless pit. He goes white and his hand tightens on your own to the point you are wincing with pain.

“(Y/N),” Jin calls, not lifting his gaze from the ravine. “Do you trust me?”

You blink, glancing over at the Saishtas who draw closer and closer with each moment. You’re not sure why he’s asking this now of all times, but your answer still comes easily.

“With my life.” You answers solemnly. He glances at you, surprised by your words, before his gaze softens and he smiles weakly at you. Then, he releases your hand and slowly he lifts himself up onto the stone wall.

“Then take the plunge.” He tells you, holding his hand out to you.

Your eyes widen as you realise what he’s trying to do. You glance at Jungkook, who merely nods at you, and then at the Saishtas who chatter in confusion at Jin’s actions.

And finally, you look up at Jin, into the eyes of the man you love, and you know that even if it’s crazy, you really do trust him with your life.

He tugs you up onto the wall and pulls you close, cradling your head in the palm of one hand and wrapping his other arm around your waist to hold you close. It reminds you of when you had arrived in this realm. He’s always held you like this, you realise. Like you are something precious to him, something he could never bear to lose.

You lift your gaze to him and meet his eyes, filled with fear, and he smiles. The Saishtas realise what is happening right as Jin takes a step backwards, off the edge of the bridge.

You squeeze your eyes shut as the two of you plummet down into the ravine below, Jungkook in close pursuit.

The last thing you hear before the darkness swallows you up is the desperate, furious roars of the Saishtas, thwarted once more.

When you come to, it is on a slightly damp, sandy surface. Jin is still unconscious next to you, with an arm thrown protectively over your waist. As you sit up, his arm slides off you, and you move away, taking in your surroundings.

You’re on a sandy riverbank- dark, inky waves lap at the surface in what is largely a calm, but dark river.

Overhead, you can see the clear, starry sky peeking at you through the jagged crack exposed by the top of the ravine. The river before you catches small flashes of starlight, but otherwise the area is largely dark.

That is, until a torch beam lands on you and you are nearly blinded by the sudden, intense light.

“Ow!” You cry out, unable to see who is on the other side of the beam.

“Sorry!” Jungkook hastily apologises, struggling to hold up the weight of your pompompurin torch. “I was looking for something.”

You rub at your eyes, which are now streaming with tears.

“Looking for what?” You ask, when your vision is finally cleared enough to make out Jungkook’s outline in the meagre lighting. Jungkook is silent for a moment, before hoisting the torch up even though it’s larger than him and directing it at the wall.

“This.” He says, and then he turns the light on.

You don’t know what you were expecting with Jungkook’s actions, but what you find is dozens of inscriptions along the cliff wall. Some are deeply engraved, and some are mere scratches, but they all seem to have different messages.

“What... what is all this?” You question in wonder.

“Messages.” Jungkook answers. He turns to look at you, dropping the torch into your hand so that you can freely exam the numerous inscriptions. “That’s what people come to the river of stars to do. To leave a message that will last through all of time.”

You blink and turn to look at the river behind you. It just looks like a normal river, albeit at the bottom of a ravine. But there’s no glowing plants, and if you hadn’t just plummeted off the edge of a bridge, you wouldn’t even know there was a river.

“This... isn’t what I expected, when I pictured this place.” You finally say. “How did we survive that fall, Jungkook?”

When you turn to look at Jungkook, he is gazing out across the river with an almost forlorn look upon his face.

“Well, you’ve probably guessed this isn’t a normal river.” Jungkook says. “It’s actually got special magical properties- that’s how those glowing plants are able to grow here. And how you were able to survive the fall- this place is so filled with magic that amazing things can happen, like people plummeting hundreds of feet and surviving the fall, or beautiful, rare plants growing. Or rare mythical creatures being born.”

Jungkook turns to you and fans his arms out on either side of him, gesturing at the space around him.

“I’ve wanted to tell you this for a long time. This river has another name, (Y/N).” He tells you. “It’s known as Gebulfen, the birthplace of the pixie. This is where I was born.”

“Where you were born?” Jin groans, sitting up and rubbing at his forehead. Jungkook’s eyes flicker over to the guardian in question.

“Is there an echo here? Why are you repeating what I just said?” He pouts. But he zooms over to Jin and lands on his outstretched knee. “Good work though. I wasn’t sure you’d work out what I meant when I told you that old saying, but you did!”

“You could have just said it outright.” Jin grumbles, hoisting himself to his feet. His gaze briefly flickers over you, assessing for injuries.

“Then the Saishtas would have worked out we were planning to jump.” Jungkook shrugged. “The only reason we had as much time as we did was because they thought we had nowhere to go.”

“I guess I can’t argue with that.” Jin grumbles, lifting his gaze to where you can just make out the outline of the great stone bridge you had plummeted from. “I guess they probably think we are dead now. Maybe it’ll be easier to get home.”

Home... that’s the next step of the journey for you. Jin’s words trigger the revelation for you- you’ve reached the end of your journey. You’ve finally made it to the River of Stars, like you’ve dreamed about for so many years. You stare in bewilderment across the smooth, dark surface of the river, taking in the soft sounds of the rushing water.

Gebulfen... the pixie birthplace. You had never heard that name before, nor had Jungkook ever chosen to share any information with you about his life in this realm.

“Are you disappointed?” The pixie in question asks, hovering close to your ear so that the rush of air from his wings tickles your ear. He flutters around to face you, before leaning in close and smiling. He hovers in the space between your eyes so that you have to go cross-eyed to focus on him. “That there’s no lights?”

“Ayla said there wouldn’t be.” Jin says, coming up to stand level with you. “I didn’t want to believe her, but it looks like-“

“Not so fast,” Jungkook hastily corrects Jin, fluttering forward to hold his tiny hands over Jin’s mouth so that he can’t talk anymore. “Ayla was incorrect. I can’t blame her, because it’s been over a thousand years since anyone has remembered the truth of this river. The lights do exist. But the plants only light up in response to a special kind of magic.”

“What magic?” You ask, unable to hold back your curiosity. You had come all this way to see the river lights, after all. Jungkook smiles, releasing Jin so that he can flutter up to you.

“I’ve always known you didn’t listen in your tutoring classes as a child because you didn’t know how I was born.” He tells you, instead of telling you what magic needs to be performed to see the lights. “Pixies are born of wishes, and they come to life at this very river. And our purpose... is to see the wish that birthed us come through.”

“What does that have to do with the river ligh-“ you protest but Jungkook cuts you off.

“Hush. I’m getting there. That’s what the plants respond to. Pixie magic.” He finishes his explanation. “Not my silly illusory spells, but real, ancient, powerful pixie magic.”

“So, to see the lights, and for (Y/N) to be able to go home, we... we have to grant whatever wish you were born to fulfill?” Jin asks, having always been a bit quicker than you to put things together. Jungkook nods, shooting two finger guns at the two of you playfully.

“Bingo!” Jungkook cries cheerfully. “You’re smarter than you look! Perhaps there’s use for you yet.”

An odd feeling fills you at Jungkook’s words, however. You’ve known the pixie for a long time. Despite his best efforts to appear constantly unbothered and joking, there’s a lot that Jungkook hides behind a smile. Like his longing to be human... his loneliness... the fact that there are hopes and dreams he’s always longed to fulfil but knows he never can. Jungkook has always hidden behind a smile and right now he’s hiding again.

“What... what are you hiding?” You ask. Jungkook looks taken aback, his eyes widening momentarily before he quickly conceals the expression.

“Shouldn’t you ask me what wish I need to grant? So that you can see the lights?” He points out. You shake your head, stepping in close, but Jungkook moves backwards, out of reach. His posture is now defensive, and you know, more certainly than ever, that Jungkook is hiding something. Why else would he not have mentioned the wish he was born to fulfil, in thirteen years of knowing you? Why is he only telling you the truth of Gebulfen now, after an entire journey travelling to see it?

“Jungkook...” you say softly, your voice barely audible above the rush of the river. He deflates at the soft, concerned tone of your voice. You hold your hands out to them, and he lands in them.

“I’ve always been really happy being with you, (Y/N).” Jungkook says, as you raise him so that he is eye level with you. He stretches out a hand and rests it against the tip of your nose. “With you, Taehyung... with your mother... even with that big oaf and his family over there. It’s been really fun. Even if I had to live in the human realm, I’ve always had friends. And I know you guys care a lot about me. So... I was never brave enough to bring up my wish. I wanted to stay with you guys, and to keep having fun. To keep learning to dance off YouTube, and to keep bringing your houseplants to life when they died... I liked stealing the cookies from your upstairs neighbour when she left the room and I liked swapping Jin’s shoes around before he left for work in the morning-“

“I knew that was you, you little twerp-“ Jin cries in outrage, but you silence him with a glare before turning your attention back to Jungkook. For some reason, he suddenly seems small and fragile in your hands in a way he never really has before.

“I knew... a part of me was always afraid that when I granted my wish, it would be goodbye.” He confesses, and for the first time in his entire life, a tear trickles down Jungkook’s face. You can only stare in bewilderment, barely processing his words.

“Goodbye?” You echo. Jungkook nods, with a teary smile.

“I don’t know what happens, to a pixie who has granted a wish. I’ve tried to research it- I’ve had Taehyung bring me back books from this realm, and I’ve studied the history. But in the entire history of this realm, of my race... there’s no mention of what happens to us after. There’s no pixie settlements or communities. There’s no monuments to our names... there’s nothing. It’s like we... it’s like we vanish.” He confesses, and the tears are coming full force. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I should have granted this wish years ago but I was scared that I-“

“You might die?” You fill in for him. Jungkook hesitates for a moment before nodding.

“I don’t know.” He says. “There’s no pixie manual. I just know that I have to grant the wish and then-“

“Screw the wish!” You cry, cutting him off. Jungkook’s eyes widen.

“What?” He asks. You release him, stepping back and gazing around the ravine.

“Screw the wish.” You repeat, now searching for an echo. “Why risk your life? Why would I want you to risk your life? If you don’t know what happens if you grant the wish, then we’ll just never grant the wish and you’ll be fine-“

“(Y/N),” Jungkook calls sternly, zooming so that he’s in front of you. “I have to grant the wish.”

“Why?” You cry, and you realise there are tears sliding down your face. Jin watches the whole exchange in silence. “Why do you have to grant the risk? Why do we have to risk you vanishing? Why would you go that far over a stupid river?”

Jungkook smiles gently, reaching up one arm to wipe away the fat tears that spill down your face- it soaks the entire arm of his jacket.

“It was your father’s wish.” He tells you gently, still smiling the whole time.

You feel like the world around you freezes. Like for a moment, you heart stops beating and the world stops turning. You stare, frozen in shock, as Jungkook continues.

“He came here when you were first born. It’s a tradition for the Qu’var to journey to this river when they want to leave a message that will withstand the test of time. The river, and the unique magic that flows here, will protect it. But anyone who comes here has the river magic in them. And when those people make an earnest wish, from the bottom of their heart, then a pixie is born in this river. And your father, in his dying moments, many, many years after coming here, wished with all his heart that he could have shown you this place. That he could have shown you the message he wrote to his baby daughter. And that’s how I was born.”

“It’s not fair.” You sob, crying in full now. Jin is silent- he chooses not to step in. This isn’t about him, after all. “Why did he have to do that? Why could he have just lived and shown me himself? Why do I have to lose you too? Why can’t we just never see the message and then you can stay?”

“Because of the spell.” Jungkook reminds you. “You can’t go home until you see the dancing lights because of the charm I put on you. Do you remember?”

More tears spill down your face as you remember the spell in question. You had thought at the time, that it was Jungkook just trying to force you to get over yourself. You had believed him when he said he’d cast it so that you couldn’t chicken out of something you wanted to do. But you realise now why he cast that spell- it was so that he couldn’t chicken out. So that, no matter what, he’d grant his wish and get you to see that message.

“We’ll stay here. Jin can tell my mum what happened, and we can live out the rest of our days here!” You plead, desperate. “Then you don’t have to-“

“(Y/N).” Jungkook comes in close and presses on your cheek, until you are facing the cliff wall with all the inscriptions on it. Then he flutters over to the discarded torch, heaving it up in his arms with a huff, and holding it out to you. “It’s ok. It’s really ok. I want this. I’ve had my fun with you guys, but it’s not like I’ve really been living a proper life like this. The only people I can talk to are guardians, and they’re so scattered across the human realm. I spend my days watching YouTube videos and talking to moths and waiting for you guys to come home from work. I’ve lived this life as much as I can, but now it’s your turn. I want you to live a full and happy life, and for you to have a family and grow old in the human realm. I don’t want you to be trapped here with me so that I can live half a life for the rest of your days.”

“But,” you protest tearily. “You’re my best friend.”

“And you’re mine.” Jungkook says with a beam. “But now it’s time.”

And then he pushes your arm until the torch lands on an inscription with handwriting you thought you’d never see again.

Your father, even back then, even on stone, has always had beautiful writing, like he could have been a calligrapher if he had the time or resources. Perhaps that’s why he wanted to leave you a written message. You step forward in disbelief until you can read the inscription, the words of the man you’ve missed so much.

(Y/N),

My precious, beautiful daughter.

Your mother didn’t want me to make this journey, but she eventually gave in because she knew how important it was to me.

I wonder what kind of situation we’ll read these words together in? What kind of woman will you grow up to be? Will you be married with children when I finally take you here? That little Seokjin is only a toddler but he’s already charming all the ladies in the village- maybe you’ll marry him! Or I hear Jihye is pregnant. Perhaps her child?

But the reason I wrote this is because I want you to know that no matter what happens, or what roads we walk down in the future, that I will love you and protect you with all of my heart. You are the most beautiful and precious thing I have ever laid my eyes on, and I hope you will always know that.

I love you. I hope that one day, even if it’s without me, that you get to see these words and know, that from before you were born, I have loved you.

Please, please, whatever situation you read these words in, please be happy.

From your father.

The inscription is rough beneath your fingers as you smooth your fingers over it. It hurts to see those words, to know the moments you can never have with your father because he’s gone. And you’ll never get him back. There’s no magic spells or special river or pixie magic that can bring him back to you.

But, for the first time, you find yourself smiling. Those memories don’t have to be painful. Because you fulfilled his wish- you’re happy. As you read these words, despite everything, you are happy. You have friends and family who love you and who you treasure beyond belief. And it took you a long time to realise it, but you’re so grateful. You’ll never get your father back, and you’ll never fill the hole that he left, but you can be happy. You can move forward with a smile on your face because that’s what he wanted.

Strong fingers wrap around your outstretched hand, and you turn to find Jin reading the words alongside you.

“He was a good man.” Jin tells you softly, and you smile at him. Jin looks like he has more to say, but he is interrupted by the brilliant glow coming from behind you.

You turn around and find Jungkook hovering before you. He glows brightly amidst the darkness of the ravine, almost as brightly as the stars overhead. And slowly, the river reacts too. One by one, bursts of light in different, brilliant colours appear and race down the length of the river, like bright, shooting stars. “The dancing river”, one of its many names, suddenly makes sense, as the lights zip and glide along the surface of the water.

“You did it!” Jungkook cries, and his smile is brighter than anything you’ve ever seen. You scramble forward, but the glow intensifies, and a brilliant light wall springs up between you and Jungkook.

“No!” You cry. “Please! Don’t go, Jungkook. We still have so much to do together! Please!”

“Be happy, (Y/N).” He calls and then the light brightens until you can see nothing but pure white.

And then it goes dark. In the absence of light, you can’t see anything before you. Jungkook is gone- he’s gone. Your best friend, your constant, pesky companion, is gone.

You fall to your knees, sinking into the soft, damp sand, sobbing hysterically.

“Jungkook.” You cry, your eyes squeezed shut. “Jungkook!”

Your friendship with Jungkook has always been a funny one. You first met him in the dingy room of a motel your mother had managed to book into, those first few nights in the human realm. You hadn’t been able to sleep- the air was uncomfortable and dry and felt leeched of the warm, buzzing magic that had been your constant companion.

You’d snuck out of the room that night and wondered onto the rooftop. Even the stars are dull, in the human realm, and for some reason it had hurt to see that. You’d gazed up into the sky, tear streaming down your face when a voice had sounded beside you.

“What are you looking at?” The little voice had asked.

The rest is history. You’d attempt to swat Jungkook, thinking him to be a mosquito hybrid, one of the weird creatures of this new realm. But he hadn’t been. He was a pixie. And from there, Jungkook had never really left your side. At night, he would sleep on your pillow beside you. When you’d gotten your own room, you’d made a little doll house for him to sleep in, but he’d always slept by your side. He would come with you to school, nestled in your pocket. Some days he’d take some space, but it had reached the point where you can barely remember spending time without him.

And now… could he really be gone? How can he? What does life even look like without him? You can’t fathom it.

You don’t know how long you sit there crying hysterically for, but eventually you feel warm, strong arms wrap around you. It must be Jin, comforting you through the pain of losing your best friend. You bring your fingers up to grip at the material of his shirt.

“(Y/N)!” Jin cries in alarm. But it’s not coming from the proximity you’d expect, considering that he’s currently holding you. No, his voice is coming from somewhere behind you.

Slowly, you blink your eyes open, and the sleeves of the jacket are not the sleeves of Jin’s jacket. Nor do the arms holding you belong to him. Slowly, you trace the arms up to the shoulders, and then you meet the face of the person holding you.

It’s Jungkook. But at the same time... it’s not Jungkook. Jungkook was a tiny pixie, with iridescent wings like a dragonfly. With a tiny, round face. He was the size of your hand.

But the person who holds you is human. There are no pixie wings in sight, and he’s the same size as you- no, he’s even bigger. He rivals Jin’s size.

But the face is unmistakeably Jungkook. You’d know those round, doe eyes anywhere.

“J-Jungkook?” You question softly. He pulls away and nods, staring at his palms in confusion like he’s never seen them before. “W-what happened?”

“I... I don’t know.” He answers, running his hands over himself. He’s wearing the same clothes as before, and he looks exactly the same as he always has, just... human sized.

“I... I’m human?”

“It must be the effect of granting the spell.” Jin calls, edging closer so that he can examine Jungkook with wonder. “Maybe... maybe the reason there’s no record of any pixies after they grant the wishes... is because they stop being pixies?”

Jungkook can only stare in confusion.

“Isn’t your dearest wish to be human? To be able to talk to people and make friends and form human bonds?” Jin continues to reflect. “Maybe... maybe the outcome of a pixie granting a wish... is that they get their deepest wish granted?”

Jungkook just stares with a bewildered expression, glancing over his shoulders for wings that aren’t there. He then scrambles over to the edge of the river, staring in wonder at the human reflection that stares back, from the normal, rounded ear tips to the lack of wings.

“I’m human?” He questions. Tears fill your eyes as you realise that what Jin is saying is true.

“You’re human!” You agree. “Jungkook! You’re human!”

His whole face lights up in excitement.

“I’m human! Oh my goodness! I’m human! I can go to dance classes! I can study in college! I can get a job! I can... I can...” his expression darkens with mischief and that’s the only warning you get before he hooks an arm around your neck and gives you the most painful noogie of your life. “I can get my revenge.”

Needless to say, the aftermath of such a transformation is absolutely chaotic, but somehow, you can’t bring yourself to be mad. Jungkook goes after Jin next, and as Jin flees for his life, you find yourself smiling, despite everything.

Please be happy, is what your father had pleaded, in the magic of this mystical river.

I am, dad. Is what you answer from the bottom of your heart in the magic of the river.

Because you are.

#jin x reader #seokjin x reader #kim seokjin x reader #castlebangtan #thebtswritersclub #writing

104 notes · View notes

imaginesmai · 4 years

Text

Peter Parker - In your corner

Enjoy this fluffy fic I forgot I had in my drafts!

Plot: Peter is having a hard time in college, and a visit from his favourite girl is just what he needs

The sun was bright in the sky, one of those rare days in early November where you still could wear only a thin jacket. Life was buzzing around you; students that were leaving their classes, teachers that were almost running to their cars, and the occasional reunion that made you smile even wider. Because you had your own waiting for you, somewhere between the entrance and the huge building of MIT.

You tried to stretch your head as much as you could to search for the curly haired boy that you wanted to surprise. He wasn’t that hard to find; Peter had grown that summer a few inches, and his shoulders were bulkier than before. But Friday seemed to be the chosen day to create as much noise as the students could, so between shoves and uncomfortable crowds, you were finding it hard to see him.

Someone behind you whispered your name in what they thought were discreet words, but you heard the giggles and the laughs. It was hard to miss them, when it happened a few times while you skipped the students in your way to find Peter. You felt the uncomfortable itch that they always gave you, and that in the last few months had turned into the horrible grief that you were still carrying. Knowing that you wouldn’t like to find any articles about Y/N Stark lashing out on some students, you pulled the bag closer to your body and lowered your head.

You had to bear with a few more pushes until finally you collided with one that was too familiar. Looking up, you met Peter’s warm eyes and his cheeky smile.

“Hey Stark” Peter whispered, but you could hear him perfectly. “Didn’t take you for one of public places”

“I would have taken the jet, but I didn’t want to embarrass you” you rolled your eyes.

Not noticing the audience that you had besides him, you leaned forward and caught Peter’s lips with yours. It had been three weeks since you last saw him, too busy with SI and with your life back in the lake house. He seemed to leave the shyness aside and leaned further into the kiss, until someone coughed and you had to break apart. If it was possible, he looked even more handsome.

“I’ll see you on Monday?” Peter spared a glance to the group of people he was walking with, while his hand gripped your own.

“Y-yeah, I guess. Uh – have, a… good weekend” a boy you didn’t know stuttered out.

Peter nodded to him and quickly scrambled out of the big crowd. You earned yourself another bunch of shoves and almost got stepped on by a guy as tall as the Hulk. The boy dragging you seemed much more eager to leave the place than yourself, but you didn’t dare to say anything. College could be stressful, from what he had told you, and you didn’t want to pressure him anymore.

So you just stepped to his side and hung yourself from his arm, supporting the bag on your other shoulder. Peter gave you a tight, tired smile and kept walking through the people. What had seemed like a nice day was quickly turning into one too hot, and you were tempted to get rid of the jacket you had brought with you. Knowing you had the car parked a few streets down, you resigned yourself to keep walking and receiving shoves.

After a few long, silent minutes, you were out and you breathed in relief.

“Oh God, that was stressful” you sighed, not tearing away from Peter. “Those are your friends?”

“Yeah – I mean, kind of. They’re my roommate’s friends, and I got along with them although I talk more with him alone”

“That’s good” you said, not really convinced by the answer. He seemed a little dull, almost not there. “I bet they’re not as good friends as me. I bought the car, no more peasant bus or walk”

“Probably, but I don’t feel comfortable doing this with my friends”

Peter shoving you into the wall and crashing his lips to yours wasn’t really a surprise, because you loved to do that all the time, yet the strength he followed the kiss with was a bit of a surprise. One of his hand made its way to your cheek and the other rested wrapped around your waist, making you stick to his body like a magnet. Your noses touched for a second until he tilted back; and then, he just left his lips there.

There was no fire burning like when he had initiating the kiss, just the need of touching each other. It was slow, too slow, and you smiled. His thumb was drawing small circles against your skin, warm and soft.

Peter ended the kiss, but instead of tearing apart, hugged you tighter and hid his head against your shoulder. It was a little awkward, since he had his backpack on and you couldn’t fully hug him. But whatever you did was enough, because he relaxed against you.

Your father’s death had been hard for the both of you, the blip and the separation with the university too. Sometimes, you just needed the comfort of each other.

“Everything fine?” you whispered, knowing he could hear you even with all that noise. Peter nodded against your shoulder and waited a few more seconds before tearing apart for real.

“Yeah. Just needed you, a lot” he answered truthfully, but you sensed it was more. “I hope the expensive car comes with a decent lunch. I’m not eating cafeteria trash again”

“Who do you take me for?” you teased, and grabbed his arm again to keep walking. “I’m the Y/N Stark, I do not eat food for less than 50$”

Peter chuckled and kissed your forehead. Instead of letting you just hang by his arm, like you usually walked, he put his arm around your shoulder and dragged you closer, until there was, once more, no space between the two of you.

The rest of the day ran uneventful, except from the nagging thought that there was something wrong with Peter. You ate in a Burger King and he ordered two kids menu, moving the toy around while you finished your own. It was strange seeing him so quiet and withdrawn, yet so close. He had chosen to sit beside you instead of in front, and when you had gone to the bathroom he looked as if he had been kicked.

You had asked him at least ten times if there was something wrong, but he either shrugged his shoulders or shook his head. The walk around the city was short and too hot, and not wanting to tell Peter that his arm around your shoulders was going to make you melt into a puddle of sweat, you had proposed going back to his dorm, the one you still hadn’t seen.

With Peter’s computer in the wheeled chair and his roommate out of the dorm, you watched a movie and laid close. So close, that in the middle of the movie you found yourself on top of him. Peter, as he always did, took his time to start talking – and when the credits rolled down, he talked.

“I’m not fine” you frowned at his tone, trembling and not as strong as always. A soft song played on the background, and you waited for him to continue. “I feel like – like a failure”

“Why would you say that?” you lifted yourself from where you were laying, landing on his left side with your head propped up in your hand, and the other one still resting on his chest.

“It’s true” he whispered, looking to ceiling lamp to your right. “I think that I don’t… maybe this is not what I’m supposed to be”

“In MIT?” you tried to get more information out of him, using one of your hands to brush the hair out of his forehead.

“I’m falling behind in two of my classes” a lonely tear ran down his cheek. “And… I failed the first physic test”

Peter started talking about how the exam had been too difficult for him, and even if the rest of the students had gotten not so good marks, he felt like he didn’t even understand what they were asking for. One thing led to another, and then he was talking about how he felt alone there too, because his real friends and you were away, and his roommate efforts for including him into his group weren’t enough.

He avoided talking about your father, but still a last ‘and I miss him’ left his lips. By the end, silent tears of frustration were running down his cheeks. You could guess that the mess of the desk was his, not of his roommate, and that he had been having a hard three weeks.

And if there was a part that broke your heart the most, was that he kept saying that he wanted to go home. The fierce protective instinct that you carried with your last name Stark-Potts took over you for a second and you wanted to pay every single thing he could need to finish college from home – but you reminded yourself that you didn’t have a say in the matter.

“I’m sorry you’ve come to visit only to hear me crying about nothing” Peter dropped one arm across his eyes. “It’s pathetic”

“Peter” you called him out, but he didn’t move his arm. “Come on, look at me. I don’t like talking to arms”

“I’m sorry” he repeated, sniffling softly.

“For what?” you insisted. “For talking about your feelings? For being honest with me? Come one, Peter. We’ve already been over it. You know you can tell me anything”

You remembered a few months ago, after the final battle, a similar situation. You had been destroyed by your father’s death, and it had taken a huge toll on you. Not going out of your room, barely eating, nearly zero talking; just lying in bed and crying. It was one of the hardest time of your life, and it had been Peter’s too. But the boy had ended up bringing you out of it by sitting with you a few hours each day, reading a book or watching a show. He had been hurt too, and sometimes he had to make a quick break to the bathroom with the excuse of getting emotional with the book. Still, he had helped you and you were forever grateful.

The problem was that he still hadn’t said anything real about your father’s death. You had seen him carrying everything like nothing, college and moving away. And you knew him well enough to know he wasn’t as good as he said.

Peter lifted his arm slightly at your words, his eyes glassy and red. You used it to push his arm out of the way fully, and stare at his gorgeous brown eyes.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Pete. What happened – what it meant for us… we can’t just pretend it didn’t happen. Sure, everyone suffered the blip. But they weren’t there, and you deserved the peace they’re searching for too” you explained.

“But I – it’s my first year, I can’t… I can’t…”

“If you need to, no one is gonna judge you for coming back home for a while” you comforted him, running a lazy finger across his jaw. “You saved them all, after all”

“So what? That’s not gonna take me anywhere, Y/N” he scoffed, finding the hem of your blouse and moving it between his fingers. “Engineer was my dream. It still is. I don’t want to leave it behind, but – but… I can’t – it’s too much, and –“

Peter’s chest started shaking under you, and his eyes looked away again. There was again, the panic he had been feeling since the begging of the year – maybe after the battle, or even before, when he learnt about five year gap. Unknown to you, Peter hadn’t even touched the suit since he arrived MIT. He spent the nights worrying about tests, studying and assignments, going as far as locking himself in the bathroom, away from his roommate, to have break downs in the shower.

He cursed himself as another tear rolled down his cheek, the lights from the forgotten movie only making the worrying look on your face more prominent. He had so desperately trying to hide it from you, but sometimes he forgot that you’re too similar to your father. Tony Stark noticed everything that was going on with him, so did you. After three weeks of bolting everything, he felt like digging himself in a hole and never coming up.

“You don’t have to leave MIT if you don’t want”

“But I’m failing! I can’t get any work done, I don’t understand anything and –“

“Look, it’s November already. You have winter break next month. And turns out, I have a very capable mother who is also worried about you and is willing to take up with the SI stuff until I come back” you smiled at his wide, surprised eyes. “What about I stay here? We can crash in a hotel, or you can make room for me in your bed. I’ll stay here until winter break, and then you will come home with me”

“I can’t ask you to stay” he squealed out, his voice too high pitched to be against the idea.

“You aren’t asking, I’m imposing, cause I’m a Stark and I’m in charge” you shrugged. You let your head fall back against his shoulder, hugging him close to you.

Both of you knew that it was still too long for winter break. You still had more than twenty days to come, that’s if MIT stopped their classes in early December. And even if you weren’t in college, you still had duties, a little sister and a mother to go back to. Yet Peter knew better than to say anything, so he turned his eyes back on the movie and blinked the tears away, already feeling a bit of that chest pressure lifting off.

“I’m in your corner, Pete” you mumbled softly, caressing the sink on his arm. “I’m always in your corner”

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Tom Holland and Peter Parker Taglist

@delicately-important-trash

@lexxxistrips

@aikaterrina

@zalladane

@gypsystuf (since you didn’t answer me, I just put you on the general taglist. Let me know if you want to change!)

@nikkixostan

@galaxystern08

@justifymyfeelings

@dummiesshort

@marvelhoesworld

@wild-rose-35

#peter parker imagine #peter parker #peter parker one shot #peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #spiderman #spiderman imagine #spiderman one shot #spiderman x reader #spiderman fic #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland fic #imaginesmai #imaginemai

208 notes · View notes

fitzs-trained-monkey · 3 years

Text

Chapter One: Lonely Together

Jack Kline x OC

Rated: PG

~I might hate myself tomorrow

But I'm on my way tonight

Let's be lonely together

A little less lonely together~

Sent: 10:52 PM

Merry Christmas, stranger. I hope yours is as bright as new fallen snow. Stay warm.

I smiled down at my phone before clicking it off and slipping it into my pocket. I didn't know who I had sent the message to. It was just a number I had punched in at random. I didn't expect anyone to reply.

Wrapping my dark green cardigan tighter around my body, I pulled my knees in closer to my chest and pressed myself closer against the wall of the bakery. The wall was only slightly warmer than the frigid air around me. It was December 2nd and icy gales were blowing in from Lake Superior and stinging the skin of the city's occupants.

The sky hung dark, low, and flat over Copper Harbor, Michigan. Copper Harbor was an itty-bitty town at the northern most tip of the northernmost part of Michigan. You know that piece of land that's only connected to the mainland by a highway, that in-between place that really should be Canada, but isn't? That's where Copper Harbor is and that's where I was.

Copper Harbor was the sort of town where newcomers and visitors are as common as flying pigs and are treated with about as much scrutiny. It's not one of those small, friendly towns just off the highway; the ones that are pleasant to find yourself in if you've taken a wrong turn. It's quite the feat to get lost and turn up in Copper Harbor, considering its miles away from anything and everything remotely interesting, unless you're searching for Bigfoot or a drunk Canadian that took a wrong turn. Though those two things might just end up being one and the same. No, nobody came to Copper Harbor unless they had a reason. That's just the sort of place it was. And aside from the mind-numbing cold, it was exactly the sort of place I wanted to be.

The clouds were so heavy with the snow that now drifted down, dusting everything in a layer of fine white powder, it seemed that someone standing on even the lowest rooftop could reach up and touch them. The snowflakes raining down from those clouds gave the appearance of tiny shooting stars. Many would have found the sight beautiful. I didn't. I just found it cold and somewhat depressing. Some people say that shooting stars are angels, falling to the earth to bless the lives of people in need. I've never liked those sorts of stories. The stars belong in the heavens. The dust belongs on the earth. Collecting in puddles, the sparkling, sugar-like ice crystals did nothing to ease the bitter cold. I shivered and coughed, my breath fogging in front of me.

I should have frozen to death hours ago.

But I can't die. At least, not that way.

Suffering, on the other hand, I can do that to no end.

I put my head between my knees, hoping to retain what little heat my walking corpse had to offer. I struggled to remain conscious. The story of the little-match-girl was playing in my head. I'd never liked that story's ending. Hallucinations really weren't my thing, especially hallucinations about things I tried not to think about, the things I tried to burry in the farthest corners of my mind. I had to distract myself, to think about anything that would keep me awake. The problem was, there was nothing to distract me.

Pling!

My phone buzzed in my pocket with a text. I grasped it quickly, greedy for a distraction, but I paused upon seeing the number displayed upon the screen. It was that number I had texted the Merry Christmas message to. Whoever it was had texted me back. I unlocked my phone and peered at the mystery person's message.

Received: 11:18 PM

Merry Christmas to you as well!

The message read. I smiled a little, surprised that anyone would care to return my quiet Christmas wish. The screen of my phone lit up with another message.

Received: 11:19 PM

Who are you?

The question was a simple one. Though tone can often be difficult to infer over written text, the question seemed to bear no hostility, only innocent curiosity. I thought for a bit about what to say, the answer was not as simple as the question had implied.

***

Located quite literally one thousand miles away from Copper Harbor, was the small, out-of-the-way town of Lebanon, Kansas. Now, in the outskirts Lebanon there was a hill. The hill was modestly sized and carpeted with thick grass painted with a layer of frost. Although it was a rather pleasant sight for some stray hiker to find, the hill was really quite unremarkable. That is, if you ignored the hulking steel door built into the side of it that looked like the entrance to a post-apocalyptic hobbit hole. See, built under that hill there was a bunker. It looked like any ordinary bunker if one can ever describe a bunker as ordinary. But inside this ordinary looking bunker, sat something rather extraordinary and his name was Jack.

Jack Kline was quite happy where he was. Sitting with his legs crossed on a chair beside the bunker's fireplace, Jack held Sam's beloved lap-top between his knees. Sam let him borrow it on the nights he couldn't sleep. Those nights were many. Sleepless nights were one of the many side effects of being half-angel, but he didn't really mind. Jack wasn't overly fond of sleep, not like Sam or Dean who adored the few hours they got. Jack would much rather be awake because if he was asleep then he couldn't observe. He liked to observe. He loved learning. He loved taking in anything and everything going on around him, soaking it all up like a sponge with legs. He especially loved to soak up a story. Epic ones with heroes that defeat powerful villains. Jack loved stories.

So, no; Jack Kline was not overly fond of sleep. No, Jack preferred to just sit quietly and watch those epic stories as they played out in front of him on the screen of Sam's lap-top.

Currently, he was watching Star Wars: The Clone Wars. The computer had said he would like it, and the computer had been right. He had just finished season 2 and had begun on season 3. Some small voice in the back of his mind told him he should slow down and draw the series out a little longer, but Jack just couldn't find the will to do so. This story was just too good to stop. Jack shoved a hand full of popcorn in his mouth as he pressed the play button on the next episode. He had managed to sneak several bags of popcorn from the kitchen and into the secret stash in his room a few nights earlier. It was perfect, except popcorn needed to be popped and popping the kernels without attracting notice was a bit of a challenge. But he found that if he popped them during the day, when everyone was clamoring about and busy with whatever, the noise from the popping kernels wouldn't peak any suspicion. The only downside to his strategy was that it left him with cold popcorn. Though this too could be remedied via his angel powers, if he was careful about it, he could warm up the popcorn undetected.

Now, don't get the impression that Jack was being starved, or held in this bunker against his will, or something awful like that. As was mentioned before, Jack was very happy there. The Winchesters, Sam and Dean, and the angel Castiel, lived there with him and took care of him. They were his family and Jack loved them. The only reason he had a secret stash at all was because Sam was the only one in the bunker who cared about the importance of having a somewhat healthy diet. Whereas Dean let the boy eat pretty much anything he wanted and Cas- well in Cas's mind food was food and that's all there was to it. But Sam didn't like it when he caught Jack eating what he referred to as 'junk food'.

Somehow, Sam always caught him.

"That stuff’ll rot your teeth, Jack!" He'd sigh, as he'd flip on the kitchen light and catch Jack eating cereal sometime around midnight. Then he'd look at Jack with a disappointed look on his face until Jack threw the cereal away and went back to bed. Jack hated it when Sam looked at him like that, he just couldn't bear to let the Winchesters down.

But Jack loved to eat. Eating was enjoyable as it brought with it something new every time. Yet more things to absorb and to experience. Although the younger Winchester disapproved of the more sugary foods; Jack liked those a whole lot more than the salads Sam tried to get him to eat. Jack didn't like the salads or 'Rabbit Food' as Dean called it. No, Jack liked popcorn a quite a bit more.

He smiled as he brought another handful into his mouth. Yes, Jack Kline quite enjoyed eating.

Plip! Ploop!

Jack's head swiveled away from the screen to stare at the phone laying face-up on the arm rest of the chair in which he sat. The screen was alight with a text message. He picked up the phone and unlocked it. The message read:

Received: 10:52 PM

Merry Christmas, stranger. I hope yours is as bright as new fallen snow. Stay warm.

That was all. Jack was quite confused; he didn't know that number. Who had sent the text? What should he do? Should he say something back?

Curiosity and caution struggled in a match tug-of-war in his head. He wanted to know who the message had come from. He wanted to know why that person had sent it. He also wanted to know why he had a strange feeling that whoever had sent the message was horribly sad. But would the Winchesters be mad at him if he answered? Sam and Dean had given him the phone just a few days earlier.

"For emergencies," Sam had said as he laid the device in Jack's hand before resuming his packing. Jack had stared at it, rather confused as to its purpose. Castiel had been off somewhere doing something and Sam and Dean had been leaving for a hunt, leaving him alone which Dean was completely and utterly against.

"Only for emergencies," Dean had stressed, jabbing his finger in Jack's general direction as he inspected various articles of clothing before tossing them into a duffle bag. "That means don't text or call unless someone is breaking in or you're dying!"

Sam shot his older brother a warning look. Dean ignored it and pulled a pair of socks out of his dresser, sniffing them briefly before making a face and chucking them to the other side of the room. Jack looked back down at the small black rectangle in his palm.

"Okay so, only text or call in case there's an emergency. Got it." Jack clinched the thin black box between his thumb and forefinger, carefully lifting it up as if it might explode in his face. "But, one question, if something happens like-like you said, like somebody breaking in or me dying, how-how would I do that?" He asked, looking back at the two brothers. They both froze their hasty packing and pivoted to stare at him, their eyebrows raised with disbelieving question.

"What?" Dean asked the young Nephilim. Jack shrank away a little, not wanting to upset the older Winchester.

"How do I text or call you? I don't know how to do that," Jack had timidly replied. Dean just shook his head and returned to over-stuffing the duffle. Sam, however, was much more understanding.

"That's right, you-you don't, do you?" Sam asked, realizing his mistake. Jack turned his attention to the younger of the brothers, shaking his head in an answer to Sam's question.

"Unbelievable," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes. Sam shot him another glare which Dean merely shrugged off.

"Well, come on then, I'll teach you," Sam had said. Jack watched as Sam set the contacts and explained how everything worked. He showed Jack how to send a text, how to dial and answer a call, and all the other things Jack would need to know. Jack just watched him and took note of every little thing. Watching and replicating was how Jack learned best.

"Now, if I don't answer my phone, you call Dean. But if he doesn't pick up, I want you to call me again, if I still don't answer a second time, I want you to call this number right here. That's Jody Mills, she's a friend of ours and she'll help you, alright? You get all that?" Sam finished explaining and looked for Jack to confirm his understanding. Jack nodded.

"I got it!" He said, enthusiastically. Sam gave the young boy a nervous smile.

"You do? Can you repeat it back to me?" Sam asked Jack the question the same way Sam and Dean's father had always asked them.

"If something happens, call you, and if you don't answer, call Dean. If Dean doesn't answer then I call you again, but if you still don't pick up, then call Jody Mills." Jack repeated all of Sam's instructions perfectly, grinning proudly at the younger Winchester when he finished. Sam laughed a little, but nerves twinged his voice.

"Good, yeah. Okay," Sam paused, thinking things over, "You know what, Jack? If neither of us answer your call and it's really that urgent, don't bother calling me a second time. Just call Jody right away if you can't get through to either of us. Alright?"

"Alright!" Jack nodded, grinning. Sam nodded back, stiffly.

"Alright." He seemed like he wanted to say something else but didn't know how to say it.

"You two done in there, Sammy?! We gotta go!" Dean called, walking in from another room. Sam stood and looked at his brother.

"Uh, yeah. I think we're good," He took a few steps towards the stairs that lead up to the door before pausing and turning back to Jack, "We're good, right? You're gonna be okay here by yourself?" Sam asked again. Jack grinned and gave him a thumbs up.

"I'll be fine. You don't have to worry."

Sam nodded and smiled with so much nervousness it almost hurt to watch.

"Okay, good. It's good. We're good," He said, nodding and trying to reassure himself more than anyone else. Dean raised an eyebrow at his overly anxious little brother, tugging his old leather jacket on over his shoulders, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he directed his remarks at Jack.

"Hey, kid. Whatever you do, don't do anything stupid," He'd said, half glaring, "We'll be back in a few days." Then they'd left.

Now, Jack glanced back down at the phone in his hands, remembering Dean's warning about not doing anything stupid. But his curiosity regarding the sender of the message was overwhelming. It couldn't hurt to text this person back, right? Was that what Dean had meant by his warning? Did this count as something stupid? What was the worst that could happen? Deciding that the benefits outweighed the risks, he texted back.

Sent: 10:18 PM

Merry Christmas to you as well!

Jack wrote.

Sent: 10:19 PM

Who are you?

No sooner had asked his question, he began to worry that he might have sounded rude. He waited with anticipation for the mystery person to reply. He didn't have to wait long.

Received: 10:20 PM

It doesn't matter, you don't know me.

I'm just someone wanting to give you a warm holiday wish.

Jack frowned. Again, he got the distinct feeling that the person on the other side of this conversation was deeply saddened by something. He desperately wanted to know what. So, he did the thing he did best. He asked and waited to see what would happen.

***

Received: 11:21 PM

If you don't know me, why do you care?

I don't mean to be rude. I'm just curious.

Why do this?

I read the person's question once, then twice, then three times and I realized that I didn't have an answer. Why did I care? Why was I texting some random person a Christmas wish? For all I knew, this person may not even observe the holiday. I had so many of my own things to worry about I was nearly drowning in them. I didn't know this person. I had nothing to do with them. So, why did I care about their holiday season? Why was I doing this?

I told myself it was just a random act of kindness. But deep down I knew what the reason was, and even if I didn't want to think about it, I felt it in my heart. I was doing this for the same reason I did everything. So, I took a few moments and came up with a reply.

Sent: 11:25 PM

I'm doing this because I believe that no one should ever have to be alone,

especially during the holidays.

I sent my reply and remembered to keep on shivering. I could hardly feel the cold anymore, I had gone almost completely numb. But I knew if I didn't keep moving, I would surely freeze in place and be unable to move until spring came. I vaguely wondered how cold it was. I remembered having heard on someone's car radio that this was supposed to be the coldest winter Michigan had experienced in the last decade. Though winter had only just begun, it was already cold enough for the district council to be suggesting face coverings to prevent citizens from getting frostbite and losing their nose.

I sneezed. I had no such face covering. Hell! I didn't even have a jacket! Let alone a coat or anything mildly warm. All I had was my oversized green cardigan, my black Star Wars t-shirt and my black jeans. That was it. Yet here I sat, outside a bakery in well below freezing temperatures, shivering myself into next decade.

I could go to a shelter. At least there I wouldn't have to endure the bitter biting of the wind as it gushed with double its normal force through these tight, abandoned alleyways. But if I went to a shelter then there was no chance of leaving undetected, I reminded myself. No, it was better to stay here, cold and alone, than to risk human contact.

I was pulled from my thoughts by another pling from my phone. Another message from that unknown contact.

Received: 11: 27

Are you alone?

Again, the question was simple. And although the mere thought hurt like a knife twisting in a fresh wound, I looked around at the dark, trash littered alleyway I sat in, watching the scattered rags of paper flutter and tumble in the winter gales, and I looked at the brutally beautiful puddles of speckled ice gathering along my body and melting on my skin, and I examined the bleak night sky, choked starless by the drifting dreary clouds; and the utterly silent stillness of the sleeping city revealed the harsh reality of my answer.

No one was here.

Nobody cared.

Not even the stars would keep me company. Because the stars never cared who I was.

So, with no reason to keep the truth hidden. I answered the question honestly.

Sent: 11: 29 PM

Yes.

Sent: 11: 30 PM

I am alone.

I was completely and utterly alone.

***

Received: 10: 30 PM

I am alone.

Once again Jack got the distinct impression that these words carried a heavy burden. It made him frown. What could he do to help a person he didn't even know? He wanted to ask this person if they had any friends, but something about those words told him the answer. When this person had said they were alone, Jack got the feeling they weren't just talking about the current moment. But maybe that's what this person needed. Maybe they needed a friend.

Sent: 10: 32 PM

Well, I'll be your friend and talk to you. There, now you're not alone anymore!

Jack smiled as he sent the text. The reply didn't take long.

Received: 10: 33 PM

Thank you.

You don't have waste your time on me but thank you.

It didn't take any special powers to read in between the lines this time, anyone could see the sadness in those words. Though Jack wasn't sure if it was his powers causing that strange feeling or if he was just imagining things.

Sent: 10:34 PM

I don't mind. Really!

Besides, I don't have anyone to talk to either.

Received: 10: 35 PM

Well, in that case, we can be lonely together!

Jack grinned. He'd made himself a friend. He couldn't wait to get to know them.

***

Received: 11: 36 PM

Since we're friends now, what's your name?

I smiled down at my new mystery friend's message. There was something about the words that made them seem innocent and earnest. It couldn't hurt to give my name, right? It’s not like he could find me. After all, I'm supposed to be dead.

Sent: 11: 37 PM

My name is Martina.

I sent my name and waited for the response. It came quickly.

Received: 11: 38 PM

I like your name Martina!

It's very pretty.

I flinched as I read the text. Something about seeing my name written in the text brought me back to a conversation with a different person a long time ago. It was a painful memory, and I didn't want to see it anymore. I didn't want another reminder of the still bleeding wounds in my heart. I remembered why I didn't let anyone call me that name anymore.

Sent: 11: 39 PM

Thank you.

But I would prefer you call me Marty.

I didn't want to be so sensitive to things like this, but I just couldn't help it.

Received: 11: 40 PM

Alright! I like Marty too.

It's a fun name.

I smiled; grateful they didn't ask why it was so important that they called me by a nickname.

Sent: 11: 41 PM

Thanks for understanding.

So, what's your name?

Received: 11: 42 PM

My name is Jack!

I grinned to myself. I'd made me a friend. I just couldn't wait to get to know him.

Sent: 11: 43 PM

Heya, Jack!

It’s nice to meet you!

I think this is the beginning of a wonderful friendship.

Received: 11: 44 PM

I agree, Marty. We are going to be great friends!

Sent: 11: 45 PM

So, what's your favorite movie?

And just like that, we talked until the sun came up. And suddenly, for the first time in quite a while, I wasn't completely alone.

***

"Hey, uh, Jack? We're back!"

Sam's voice drifted in from just outside Jack's bedroom door. Jack was surprised. He hadn't heard the brothers come in which, for him, was quite peculiar.

The door creaked open and Jack hastily attempted to pretend like he hadn't been using the phone.

He failed.

Miserably.

The device slipped from his hand and he fumbled to catch it before it smashed against the grey, polished concrete floor. He let out a sigh of relief as he snatched it just in time.

Sam peered around the door, checking in on Jack, who was now hanging halfway off his bed and clutching the phone. Scrambling to sit upright, Jack gave Sam a half-panicked smile.

"Hi Sam!" He waved a greeting, shoving his phone behind his back. Sam raised his eyebrows in a questioning expression and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. He folded his arms and leaned back on his heels.

"Hey Jack," Sam seemed a little distracted, "Have you seen Cas?" He asked. Jack shook his head vigorously.

"He's not back yet," He answered. Sam nodded and started to leave before stopping and turning back. Only now seeming to notice Jack's odd behavior. Sam gestured at the phone hidden behind the boys back,

"So, what were you doing in here just now?" Jack's eyes flew wide as quarters and his gaze shifted rapidly around the room, focusing on anywhere but Sam. His mind was working overtime trying to find a viable excuse.

"Uhhhh...Nothing!" Jack tried; his brain had gone blank. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"You sure about that?" Sam leaned forward a little, narrowing his eyes. Jack leaned back to match; his face scrunched up with the guilt he was trying very hard to hide. Everyone in the bunker knew how terrible Jack was at lying. He might be able to pass a few simple fibs by a stranger, but his family saw through him like he was made of glass. He couldn't deceive them. But that didn't stop him from trying, however.

"Yes..." Jack said slowly, his eyebrows pulling together in a rather sad attempt at looking sincere.

"Jack, what were you doing?" Sam asked more sternly. Jack looked at his feet and didn't answer. His shoulders moved up and down in a shrug.

"Do I have to go get Dean?" Sam pressed. Now Jack's head shot up. He stretched his hands out in a pleading gesture.

"No, no! Don't tell Dean!" Jack begged. Sam's expression shifted into one of concern.

"If you tell me, I won't tell Dean." Sam agreed, moving to sit on the bed beside Jack who shifted to give him some space. Sam waited patiently for the young Nephilim to speak. Jack kept his head down and rubbed his hands together nervously as he tried to think of how he should explain himself.

"Well, last night I was watching Netflix when I got this text from somebody wishing me a merry Christmas-" He started.

"Someone we know?" Sam asked, interrupting. Jack shook his head and continued.

"I asked them why they would do that, and they said it was because they thought that nobody should be alone this time of year. So, I asked if they were alone and they said, yes ─" Jack looked the younger Winchester in the eyes ─

"I don't know why but I just got this- this feeling, and they sounded just so sad, and now we're friends! But Dean said not to do anything stupid, and now I'm worried that I did! Are you mad?" Jack finished, worry coloring his features. Sam blinked. Once again astounded by the size of the half-angel's heart, he shook his head.

"No, Jack. I'm not mad," He said, softly.

"Really?"

"Really. I think you did a good thing. Everyone needs a friend." Sam patted Jack's shoulder and smiled. Jack looked down, grinning to himself as pride filled his chest.

Sam waited a moment before getting up from the bed. Stretching his back out and groaning a bit as he stood. It had been almost 48 hours since he last slept, and he was more than ready for a long nap. His hand rested on the doorknob and he paused a moment before turning back around.

"Hey, uh, Jack. Just one more thing. Do you by chance know this person's name?" Sam asked. Jack looked up briefly before looking back at the floor again, trying to hide the embarrassment creeping up to stain his cheeks.

"It's, uh, it's Marty," He replied. Sam nodded and moved to leave again but he stopped. His eyebrows pulled down with confusion before he turned back.

"And uh, is that a boy's name or a girl's name? Do you know?" Jack turned his head a bit to the side and picked at a thread in his jeans.

"Does it matter?" He questioned back. Truthfully, it didn't. Sam wouldn't make Jack stop if he didn't want to. But to say that the boy's current evasive behavior didn't pique his interest, would be a lie. Though, the kid’s flushed cheeks told him quite a bit about the answer.

"It doesn't matter," Sam said, shrugging, "I'm just curious is all." The tall man watched the boy's reaction. Jack nodded and shifted as if uncomfortable.

"Marty's a girl." He answered, trying to force his voice into sounding nonchalant. And failing.

"Okay, cool." Sam nodded, turning around again, and reaching for the handle. Jack's head whipped around.

"Wait, Sam!"

Sam looked over his shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"Don't. Tell. Dean!" Jack stressed. Urgency was evident in his voice. Sam huffed a laugh.

"Okay, Jack." With that, Sam pulled open the door and walked out letting the heavy steel swing shut behind him. Behind the door, Jack sighed with relief. He'd dodged a bullet with that one.

Walking a ways down the hall, Sam got to Dean's room where his older brother was now unpacking. The younger brother leaned on the door frame and expelled the laughter he'd been holding on to since Jack’s room. Dean turned around, holding a pistol and a pair of weeks old and hopelessly blood caked socks in his hands, he faced Sam with a questioning look.

"What's got you so giggly all of a sudden?" The older of the brother's asked.

Dean glanced at the pair of socks in his hand. He grimaced at the stench and held them further away from his face, trying not to breathe. It didn't work. The socks odor was so pungent, Dean could smell them through his mouth. There was no hope of washing them. Nope, those things would have to be burned. Though, taking another whiff of them, Dean wasn't sure that even incinerating the socks would do him much good now. The stomach-turning stink would be branded into his memory forever. Sam straightened up, shaking his head of shoulder length hair.

"It's just something Jack said." Sam smiled and laughed again before taking notice of the unholy stench wafting off the socks. He coughed. "Dude, those stink. Bad!"

"Yeah, it's a sad day, Sammy." Dean nodded solemnly. Sam covered his nose.

"Why?"

"These were my second luckiest pair of socks."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well, they're not anymore," Sam pointed out. Now, they were just rancid.

"I think we should give em' a Viking funeral, something to honor their service. I mean, I remember one time when I wore these things for two weeks straight!" Dean reminisced, grinning. Sam looked mildly disturbed.

"That's, uh... nice... But, uh, is there somewhere we could put them before the funeral? Because they, uh, they reek." Sam was trying hard not to gag and couldn't understand how Dean could be holding them and remain unaffected. Dean smirked.

"You wanna go put em' somewhere?" He asked, waving the socks into Sam's face. Sam leaned away.

"Ah! God! No! Put those things somewhere! Please!" He choked out. Dean just grinned and moved to the other side of the room. Grabbing a cardboard box from off the shelf, he shoved the socks in there and sealed the lid. The stench quickly began to dissipate.

"Better?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"We're gonna have to burn that box too."

"Yup." Sam still felt a little sick but at least the socks were gone.

"So, what was it Jack said that you thought was so funny?" The older brother asked.

"Oh, uh, nothing. It was nothing," Sam said. But laughter began to creep up on him again. Dean rolled his eyes and went back to pulling more dirty clothing from the duffle bag.

"Are ya gonna stand there or are ya gonna spill?" Dean pushed. Sam sobered up again.

"Well, I'm not supposed to tell you," He said.

Dean shook his head, mildly annoyed. He knew Sam was going to tell him whatever juicy information he had gotten, just like he always did when he got that sly look on his face. Sam could be a bit of a schoolgirl that way. Except, of course, when it came to the important things, the things Dean was supposed to know. Those things Sam always kept to himself.

"Well, Sammy, if you ain’t gonna spill─" he used the gun in his hand to gesture from Sam to the duffle bag─ "get workin'."

The younger Winchester moved to the bag and started unpacking, grinning his face off all the while. Dean knew his little brother was waiting for him to ask about the thing with Jack again, so he said nothing. He just waited for Sam to look over to him eagerly, which is exactly what Sam did.

"So get this!" Sam started.

'Here it comes.' Dean predicted internally. Sam kept starring.

'Yatzee.' Dean thought. He knew Sam like the back of his hand. Actually, he probably knew his brother better than that.

"Apparently, Jack got a text from some random person last night wishing him merry Christmas. And, well, you know Jack! So he─" Dean stopped his brother mid-sentence.

"What's her name?" He interrupted. Sam looked confused.

"I didn't say anything about a girl," Sam trailed off. Dean sighed and shook his head.

"Geez, Sammy! If you love drama so much, you should go be an actor. You ain't foolin' anybody. We both know where this is goin' so just cut to the chase!" Dean sighed, opening a trunk and tossing in the gun he'd been holding along with several knives. His small outburst had startled his younger brother, but Dean didn't really care. Sam wasn't the only one who hadn't slept in 48 hours. Sleep was calling and Dean wanted nothing more than to answer. Sam frowned.

"Marty. The girl's name is Marty," Sam stated, sounding rather put out that Dean had guessed at his not-so-cleaver ploy. The older if the pair turned to the younger with a perplexed expression.

"Wait, wait. Marty?" He clarified. Amused disbelief written all over his features.

"Marty," Sam confirmed.

"Marty?"

"Yeah. Marty."

"Like the zebra in Madagascar, Marty?" Dean asked, grinning. Sam nodded.

"Yeah, like that. But remember, you didn't hear anything from me!" He answered, smiling as well. Dean laughed as he turned his attention back to the mess of clothing and weapons surrounding him on the floor.

"Yeah, whatever, drama queen." Dean rolled his eyes and kept working. The room was silent for a moment before the older Winchester burst out laughing again. He couldn't help himself; he found the subject hilarious.

"Ah, man. Marty! Now there's a name!" He exclaimed as he started folding the few clean clothing items laying in the pile. "What? Did her parents just take one look at her and say: 'Look at our beautiful baby! Let's name her Marty!'" Dean scoffed.

Sam snorted and shook his head at his older brother's bad joke. Then he leaned his head back and yawned.

"Man, I think we need some sleep," Sam sighed. Dean smirked.

"Is it your bedtime already?" He taunted, expecting a playful retort. But this time, Sam didn't argue. He just nodded.

"Yeah, I think it is." Though worried about his little brother, Dean held his playful smirk in place perfectly, just like he had been doing for so many years.

"Well, you go ahead and hit the sack. I'll finish up here." He said, easily. Even though he was just as tired and Sam was, he would finish out like always. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, o'course. There's not much left anyway." That was a lie and they both knew it, but Sam took the offer of sleep while it was on the table.

"Thanks, Dean."

"You're welcome, Sammy."

Sam patted his older brother on the arm as he stood and left the room. Traveling down the corridor he got to his bedroom and was out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Meanwhile, Dean mouthed the strange name of Jack's mystery girl and chuckled about it to himself. Sitting on the floor in his room as he continued folding the rest of the clean clothes, cleaning out all the weapons and putting everything back in its place. The chore took him two more hours to complete but when it was done, he stretched himself out and laid back on his bed.

"Marty. Now, that's hilarious." Dean snickered to himself as he drifted off to sleep.

~I might hate myself tomorrow.

But I'm on my way tonight.

Let's be lonely together.

A little less lonely together~

Lyrics from: Lonely Together by Jasmine Thompson

24 notes · View notes