This Is Such An Underrated Fic, Omg. I Cannot Wait To Continue Reading It!!! Also It's Nice To See The

Omg this is so cute, I can't wait to see more! Nice job author!!

Trust Me- Chapter 1

Masterlist

summary: Peter has a plan. Peter had a plan. And it sure as hell didn't involve a bunch of judgy adult vigilantes joining him and harassing him about his age.

cw (more like things to expect): canon typical violence, abuse of the words "crawl" and "web", Peter Parker acts his age, characterization will be based off of the tv shows and the comics depending on the character

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

Peter appreciated his Spidey-Sense.

It saved his life several times. 

But, it was moments like these where he wished he could just flip a switch and get it to shut up.

He was sitting on a beam high up near the ceiling of the warehouse where a weapons deal was going to happen soon. Peter had spent the last 30 minutes searching the building for anything remotely suspicious and found nothing. No drugs. No weapons. No technology. Not even a random person just lurking around. The place was completely empty.

But his Sense was screaming at him to be careful. That’s the thing about the Sense, it was never specific. It was just like he instinctively knew he was in danger, he had to figure out what/where the danger was coming from on his own. It wasn’t the beam (it was more than sturdy enough to hold him) and it wasn’t a lack of web fluid (he made sure to keep extra on him), so what was it?

His thinking was interrupted by voices entering the building. 

“Remember we get the money, give them the weapons and leave. The sooner we get this over with the better.” The man Peter mentally dubbed “Goon 1”  told “Goon 2”. They were each holding two large black cases, if it wasn’t for the fact that Peter knew they were selling privately manufactured weapons he would assume they were just selling rifles. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Goon 2 said, clearly not taking this seriously enough.

Good, Peter thought to himself. The less serious they were the easier it would be to follow them back to their base. Just then two more men entered the building carrying two large briefcases each. The four men talked for a bit, nothing interesting, the typical threats of what they would do to one another if the other pair screwed them over. They swapped cases and went their separate ways.

Peter followed Goon 1 and Goon 2 out of the warehouse, watching as they hopped into a black truck and sped away. It wasn’t difficult to keep up with them, it was just annoying to have to run the whole way instead of swing. But, sacrifices had to be made to not get caught. Though he had yet to meet a henchman who was smart enough to realize they were being followed even if he swung to follow them.

Goon 1 and Goon 2 drove all the way to Harlem, got out and entered another warehouse. 

‘What is it with bad people and warehouses?’

Peter jumped on to the roof of the building and climbed down its side to peer into a window. It was a whole system of men and women building, testing and packaging weapons. From all the research Peter has done, it seems like they were inspired by the Vulture and his operation. 

Peter crawled around the whole building to get a head count of just how many people he’s about to be dealing with. There were forty-five people on the first floor but on the second there were another four who seemed to be having a meeting. A meeting that was taking place in a soundproof room, judging by the sound and thickness of the walls. He went back to the roof to pace.

Ok, first take out the guys in the meet. There’s only four and they’re probably the most important ones to catch. Then, crawl around the building webbing up all the exits except for the window to the room where the meeting is happening. Crawl back through that window and get to work. Peter thought to himself.

He knew logically that forty-five people was a lot (even for him). But he was feeling calm and focused. More so than he had in the past few months; even his Sense had stopped going off. 

He could do this.

He broke the glass window and webbed the only door to leave shut. The man closest to Peter went to punch him but he saw it coming. He grabbed the man's arm and swiped the man's legs from under him, forcing him to land hard on his back allowing for Peter to web him to the floor. The hair on the back of his neck rose and Peter turned around, shooting a web to jam the gun that was about to shoot him. He was quick to web the would-be shooter to the wall.

He looked at the last two standing, a woman and a man. The woman rushed forward, pulling a knife out of her boot, going in to stab Peter. He jumped to the side, grabbed her outstretched wrist and the back of her neck and slammed her into the wall next to her fellow criminal. As he webbed her to the wall, the man jumped on him and put him into a guillotine choke and tried to drag him to the floor. Peter reached over and grabbed the man's jacket and used it to throw the man over his shoulder and through the table the group had been sitting at. Webbing the last one to the floor, Peter was feeling pretty damn good about heading down to the first story.

He crawled out the window and started webbing up all windows, doors and anything that could be a possible exit. He walked down the building to the ground and took a couple steps back to look at his work and re-fuel his web shooters. His Sense went off and he immediately looked up at the roof. There were four figures on the top of the building.

Peter sighed, shaking his head, “Why can’t I have one simple night?” He asked no one as he shot a web to the side of the building and used it to fling himself to the roof. He lands in a low crouch, one hand on the ground. 

“Get out of here Spider-Man.” a gravelly voice says dismissing him.

“I put too much work into finding and catching these guys to leave, just cause you tell me to.” Peter tells The Punisher.

He responds with the sound of him loading his rifle. Beside him Jessica Jones is lounging on the ground drinking from a flask. “Put the whiskey away, we move the second Red gives us the cue.” 

“Shut up, Frank.” 

“Will you both be quiet?” Daredevil hisses from the other side of the roof where he stands beside Luke Cage who adds, “Let him work so we can finish this.”

“Are you kidding me?” Peter asks, his offense clear in his voice. “I did not do all of this work for you guys to show up at the last minute and take over. No, absolutely not. Get the hell out of here.”

The adults finally turn to actually look at him. The sudden attention makes Peter fix his slouch. Jessica opens her mouth -probably to tell him to shut up too - but Daredevil speaks first, “How old are you?”

Oh shit.

“That’s none of your business.” Peter says slowly, resisting the urge to cross his arms.

“You’re not even out of high school yet, are you?” he asks, his tone shocked.

If all the attention wasn’t on him before it definitely was now. “I’m not taking questions from people who refuse to leave Manhattan.” Peter snaps.

“Why did you cover up all the entrances? How the hell are you supposed to get in?” Luke asks, trying to bring the focus back. Spider-Man’s age was something that could be dealt with later, these people in the building were not.

Peter looked at Luke. He had heard all about Harlem’s Hero; his enhanced strength, durability and stamina was a big point in Peter’s research when he was trying to find ways of coping with his own abilities. “I’m going to get in through a window I left open.”

“The only window open is the middle one on the second floor.” Daredevil unnecessarily pointed out to Peter.

He rolled his eyes behind his mask.

“Not exactly a problem for a wall-crawler like Spider-Boy over here.” Frank said to the group, looking impatiently at Daredevil as if he was the reason why they didn’t have an entrance instead of Peter. “Listen kid-”

“I’m not a kid.”

“Whatever. Open the door and we’ll all go down there and settle this” Frank said.

It was a good idea, Peter probably could use the extra hands since they were on a time limit, only an hour and forty left before his webs began to dissolve. But the whole questioning his age and the tone of gentle parenting mixed with dismissal the group was using toward him really made him want to just abandon them on the roof. 

“Or you can just go in there alone and get shot up.”

Bitch-

Peter bit back the snide remark on his tongue and just jumped off the roof; swinging around the building and into the window he opened earlier. He closed the window behind him and took out a bottle of web solvent and - ignoring the whines of the criminals who wished to be released- used it on the door, walking out of the room. He was pretty sure that he’d be done before the webs began to dissolve but he webbed the door again just to make sure that those four stayed in the room. He slinked down the staircase to the first floor, crawled up the walls and looked at the people below.

They worked in four groups of ten and one group of five, spread out across the floor, completing various tasks. Two groups building weapons, two groups testing and the group of five packaging the weapons into cargo containers. 

First, the cargo group. Then, the builders. Then, the test group.

He crept until he was above the cargo containers. He flipped down, landing on the ground between two containers silently, and waited. Peter grabbed a worker as they passed by, knocked them out and webbed them to the side of the container. He did this until all five were out.

Nice.

The builders were next, they had two assembly lines going right next to each other. Peter stopped to consider how bad it would be to just go crazy, webbing everything insight, because there was no way he was going to be able to take them down one-by-one like he did with the previous group. 

Then an alarm went off.

Not nice.

The main lights shut off, the emergency ones coming on a second later, coloring everything in a red light. The goons panicked and began to take up arms. 

Very not nice.

He started webbing the containers with weapons closed. One of the workers saw him, she picked up a sledge hammer -what the hell do they need a sledge hammer for???- and went to hit him. He grabbed the hammer, distantly Peter felt it crush in his palm, and kicked the woman in the chest causing her and the person behind her to fall. He webbed them both, then used the handle of the hammer to knock out three others. He could tell by the gunshots and the sound of groans around him that his fellow vigilantes found some way into the warehouse. 

Probably just burst through the walls, the barbarians. Peter thought as he ran towards the commotion on the far end. 

He took down about ten more people on the way; hitting a few of them harder than he intended too (he didn’t want to think about what state they might be in, they were down, that was enough).The Spidey-Sense continued to hum in his mind so loudly it was the only thing he could focus on. He allowed it to consume him and moved purely on instinct, dropping to the ground, quick but not quick enough as a bullet lodged itself cleanly into his side

Damn

He turned and caught a fist just before it connected to his temple. Without thinking he punched the person, hard ,feeling and hearing their jaw break. He looked to the owner of the hand and saw Luke Cage looking shocked as he took a step back from the force of the hit. Peter knew he didn’t put his full strength into it, he knew that Luke was capable of handling a hit like that but that didn’t stop the guilt from seeping into him.

The sounds of gunfire stopped suddenly and for a brief moment Peter thought that someone had finally managed to kill Frank Castle. “You sure that’s all of them, Red?”

Nope

“They're all either knocked out, unable to move or dead.” Daredevil said, muttered something under his breath that made Frank push him. Peter began to shuffle towards and up the stairs clutching his side, he needed to get home asap. 

“You two better not start arguing again.” Jessica said, walking towards two of the weapons on the floor. She picked them up and threw them at Frank who started examining them. “Call your officers.” she called out to Daredevil, strutting to the main doors. She pulled at them, trying to open them, she struggled for a bit before trying to kick the door down. “Spider-Kid, get over here and open the doors!”

“No!” Peter yelled from the second floor as he poured some more solvent on the door. 

‘If they found a way in, they can find a way out.’ and with that thought he began to swing his way back to Queens, hoping that he wouldn’t pass out from blood loss on the way there.

Authors notes: thank you for reading

Now I feel so awful that Bea is definitely going to die omg. Author why did you have to make the couple so lovable 😭

Also I love the way you wrote this chapter with the narrator acknowledging that these two obviously aren't going to be together forever, with a mix of foreshadowing and saying it straight up. It's a really cool way to write this story and I'm so excited to see more!!

One question I have is if Rosalie and Y/N's romance is going to be during the Twilight timeline? Or before it?

Thanks for the wonderful chapter author!

Bound | Chapter 5

Word Count: 2.3K Warnings: queer harassment

Summary: Rosalie always carried the resentment of not being able to fulfill the image of the perfect family she had in her head. But the universe had set out to grant her everything she could’ve hoped for in the most unconventional way and in the form of a witch. Can their love withstand the promise of forever or will Rosalie and (Y/N) succumb to the grapples of time?

A/N: oh, oh, I'm falling in love with a pairing that will not work out... I know I'm the writer, but, damn. I am breaking my own heart here. 🫠🫠 also, two chapters in one day, wow

<- Previous

There would come a day when (Y/N) didn’t have Beatrice Porter by her side. There would come a day when she wouldn’t be able to roll over in her bed and find the onyx-black strands of her hair splayed over a pillow or kiss her eyelids as they fluttered in sleep. But in 1935, she didn’t know that. 

In 1935, she still believed they had forever. At least as long as forever could be in their human lives. And because she didn’t know, she was able to live in the absolute bliss of being with her best friend. 

As she brushed her hair out of the tight coil of the curlers she wore to bed, (Y/N) smiled at the sleeping figure of Bea on her bed. The sun had barely started to shine through the curtains, basking her pale body in the warm light of its rays. Her shoulders peeked through the white sheets, rising and falling with the evenness of her breaths. She was a vision of beauty that (Y/N) had been lucky enough to witness. 

By the time the witch was putting on her earrings, Bea stirred from her slumber, a lazy smile tugging at her lips. “Good morning,” she croaked. “You look beautiful.” 

“Hm, I was going for smart,” (Y/N) chuckled. “Is it the necklace or the hair?” 

“It’s your face,” the girl smiled. “You could play hooky, you know. Spend the day with me rather than at the university.” 

“A rather tempting offer,” she said as she walked toward the bed, crawling to Bea. “But I’m too close to graduating now. I’ve already had to argue with enough men who believe that higher education is no place for a woman.” 

“Well, in that case, give them hell,” Bea smirked. “I suppose I should do my own studying then. I do have a test this week and have gone to three classes at the most. I just don’t see the point if I’m going to stay here. Magic doesn’t require human schooling.”

“But the coven does need to change with the times. We need to strive for better. For bigger,” (Y/N) explained. “Living in the woods is amazing, but it keeps us secluded. Alienated. We need to find ways to blend in with society. Hide in plain sight. That’s the key to survival.” 

“You’ve always had great plans for the coven. You will make a wonderful High Priestess one day.” 

“One can only hope,” she sighed contentedly. “But for now, I can do my part in gaining more knowledge of how the outside world works. Find a way witches and other supernaturals can live amongst humans undetected. There may not be as many, but you know there are still people out there that hunt our kind. I mean, just last week, we received word of a coven in Louisiana being burnt down by so-called Modern Witch Hunters. We’ve learned to hide, but clearly not well enough.” 

“Cruelty will always be an incurable sickness in humans,” Bea grumbled. “People in high school taught us that early on.” 

The memory made (Y/N) grimace. They hadn’t done anything wrong. Stood by their respective lockers, the two girls had simply been talking and decided to sneak a soft caress. (Y/N) had only brushed a stray ringlet of hair that had fallen over Bea’s eyes. But her fingers had lingered too long, and their stare was a little too intense. A pair of boys had been walking down the hallways at that precise moment and had decided that what the girls were doing was too queer for their liking. 

Deeming (Y/N) as the instigator, they had snatched her and carried her to the nearest dumpster while calling her a slew of slurs and insults. All this while Bea cried and begged them to stop. It took everything in them both not to use their powers, knowing the punishment for using magic with humans was magic binding for an undetermined amount of time. 

As the lid closed above her and the smell of trash engulfed her, (Y/N) promised never to show an ounce of affection to her friend outside of the protective confines of their coven. There, no one questioned or talked in whispers –although some eyes did follow them at times. But it was nothing like the treatment they endured outside. A couple of stares here and there was nothing like finding dead animals stuffed in your locker, or being unable to walk down the street without being accompanied by a big enough group, or having to stay as far away from your best friend as possible because you don’t know who will attack you for what they believe. 

“You know, Annabeth is leaving in July,” Bea said, changing the topic as she saw how it upset (Y/N). “She was accepted to the University of Tennessee. She says there’s something about the state that calls to her, but I don’t understand why she would go so far. There are enough good schools nearby.” 

“Well, she’s setting her own path,” (Y/N) smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind Bea’s ear. “Your sister has always been quite the free spirit.”   

“That she is,” she chuckled. “Momma is going with her to help her settle in and everything. She also wants to make sure she’s comfortable with the coven over there.” 

“Would you go with her if she asked?” 

“And leave you up here all alone?” the girl scoffed. “Wouldn’t even think about it for a second.” 

“All you’d need is a big enough body of water, and you could come here anytime.”

“Are you suggesting that I leave, (Y/N) Carmine? Do you not want me here?”

“Oh please, don’t even say that. But she is your sister, Bea,” (Y/N) laughed. “You could at least pretend to ponder over the idea. Your family has always been so close-knit.”

“She’d understand,” Bea shrugged with a mischievous smile. “I’ve got something special here.” 

“You’re bad,” she grinned before kissing the girl’s temple. “And I’m going to be late.” 

“Fine,” Bea conceded. “I’ll let you go as long as you bring me some doughnuts.” 

“Of course. I wouldn’t dare come home without them.” 

“Good,” she beamed. “Then, I guess you can go.” 

It was simplicities such as those that (Y/N) reveled in. She may not have been allowed to hold Bea’s hand in public or even say how much she loved her, but she had their home. Behind those four walls, they were able to simply exist. No labels to concern themselves with, no judgment, and certainly no harassment. 

As the day trickled by and class after class passed, (Y/N) couldn’t help but have her mind divided between her education and the girl waiting for her at home. Everything reminded her of Bea. The black fabric of the chairs she sat on was the same color as her hair, the blue of the sky matched perfectly with the iciness of her eyes, and the smell of the town’s bakery reminded her of the girl’s favorite treat. 

There was nowhere she could turn that didn’t remind her of Beatrice, and there was no one on Earth she could love more than her… at least, that’s what she believed at that moment. By then, she had no idea her soul was bound to an immortal, nor that her life would go on after Bea passed one day. At that moment, she knew only of the fleetingness of life and the importance of living in the present. There was no way for her to know how fleeting those moments were when eternity came into play. 

For now, she enjoyed every second she had in the life she believed was passing.

She was coming out of the bakery when she was met with Russell Morgan, a witch from their coven who had always been kind and concerned over her and Bea. She knew he’d always had his eye on Beatrice, leaving flowers and trinkets on their porch for her. Though he understood the relationship the girls shared, he couldn’t help the affinity he held for the young witch. And none of it bothered (Y/N). Bea had made her choice, and it had been her. 

“Hello, Russ,” she smiled as he matched her pace, knowing he was escorting her home without mentioning it. “How was your day today?” 

“Can’t complain,” he chuckled. “Just making it through this last semester. Hoping I hear back from med school any day now. That’s been the most stressful thing.” 

“I’m sure you’ll get in,” she said. “You’re brilliant, Russ. They’d be lucky to have you. And you know New Forest witches seem to do well in medical school.” 

“Well, we do have a certain je ne sais quoi,” he laughed. “And, uh, how’s Bea been recently? I haven’t seen her as much in lessons.” 

“You know her. Most days, she doesn’t even want to get out of bed,” she smiled. “But I’ve already made a deal with her. For every day that she attends lessons, I’ll bring her a new pastry from the bakery.” 

“That will definitely get her there,” Russell chuckled. “And Margaret won’t be angry at her.” 

“Oh, Margaret’s a big softie at heart.” 

“She really is. And uh, are you two still…” 

(Y/N) knew he wouldn’t get the words out. He never did. “Yes. Bea and I are still,” she chuckled softly. “Don’t think that’s changing any time soon.”

“Well, not that I’m not happy for you two, but a man can only hope,” he said as his cheeks grew red in slight embarrassment. She knew he meant nothing by it and also understood the pull Bea held. “I do hope for you years of happiness. Even if the world hasn’t caught up to different kinds of love.”

“I know, Russ. And I am grateful for your wishes and your friendship. I know one day you’ll meet a woman as wonderful as you.” 

“I sure hope so. Mom is on me about giving her grandkids already. Apparently, the two kids my sister has already given her are not enough.” 

“No amount will ever be enough,” she laughed. “But she might be closer than you think, Russ.” 

And neither of them had any idea how true the statement was. 

Back at the house, the smell of fresh bread and beef stew filled the air. The scent alone made (Y/N)’s stomach grumble, knowing the flavor would be even better than the smell. The dinner table was already set, complete with a set of flickering candles. 

“What’s the occasion?” (Y/N) smiled as she kissed Bea’s cheek. “Everything looks so beautiful.” 

“Do we need an occasion to have a candle-lit dinner?” Bea said. “I just felt like it. Especially since you brought me some of my favorite doughnuts.” 

“Maybe I should bring you doughnuts every day.” 

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that,” she grinned. “And if they’re sugar doughnuts, even better.” 

“Do you really think I’d bring you any others?” 

“Better not,” she laughed. “But I just wanted to do something nice for you. Because I love you, and you deserve it.” 

“You’re the best, Bea,” (Y/N) beamed. “I love you more than the moon loves the sun.” 

With a flick of her hand, music filled the kitchen, and their bodies swayed to the rhythm that played through the radio. They swirled through the room, forgetting the stew that bubbled on the stove and the candles that were melting on the table. But they didn’t care. All they cared about was the fact that they were happy, they were healthy, and they were together. They filled a house with love and joy, and that seemed enough. 

“Do you think there will ever be a way we could have kids?” Bea asked absentmindedly. “I know it couldn’t really happen naturally. But maybe adopting.”

“I don’t think that could happen, Bea,” (Y/N) sighed. “At least not us together or even as single women living together. The world isn’t ready for that, darling.” 

“Oh, what a tragedy,” she sighed. “You would be a great mother.” 

“As would you, Beatrice,” the witch smiled sadly. “Is that something you really want? Children, I mean.” 

“Well, it had always been my dream to have a big family. Little ones running around, a home, someone to grow old with,” she admitted. “I just thought it was the normal way life would move toward.” 

“But I can’t give you all of that, Bea,” (Y/N) sniffled. She stopped their swaying and rested her forehead against Bea’s, a thin stream of tears falling down her eyes. “I can’t give you everything you’ve dreamed of.”

“Well, darling, I don’t want any of that if it’s not with you,” she assured. “I am perfectly content with just having you for the rest of my life.” 

“I want you to have everything you’ve ever dreamed of, Beatrice. I don’t want you to settle just for love. What if, one day, you wake up and realize that love isn’t enough for you? That kids and marriage is what you wanted all along.” 

Bea smiled warmly then, cradling (Y/N)’s face and wiping away the tears that stained her cheeks. “And what makes you think that your love is not enough?” she cooed. “I would wait a thousand years if it meant I got to live my life with you. Children are never a sure thing. Even if I married a man, there is no certainty that I could fall pregnant. But, with you, I know there is love. That is certain, and that is what I need.”

She sealed her words with a chaste kiss to (Y/N)’s lips, slipping through her mouth all the love she felt for her best friend. It was a promise of a future together, a promise of forever. But how could they have known that forever would not have been long enough? That the end of their forever was just around the corner. 

“Now, why don’t we sit and eat already?” Beatrice smiled.”I’m starving.” 

“Alright then,” (Y/N) said. “Let’s eat, and cheers to forever then.” 

“Cheers to forever.”

My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts  or buy me a coffeeto support me and my love of writing If you’d like to be tagged in this or any other story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!

Taglist:@winter-soldier-101@zheezs14@a-sifu-hotman @byelannie@sunflowerleii @dyslexiccatterpillar @blackbluerose666 @slutforsainz @kortniec696 @xcastawayherosx @bluebirbnamedjay @sirenheadenby @andreiaafaria @bluetreecloud20@sunshine2894 @valejewel @mushroomelephant @swidkid @skyesthebomb@esposadomd @nocturnalherb16 @rosalie-whitlock

@avis15@honeylovemoon@wonieeee@baebeepeach@krazyk99@klf1999@sl-ut@adaydreamaway08@toomanythoughts33@sugasthreedollarkookie @fandomonetwo @fruitylilfuck @honeywxter @haroldpotterson @kaita11 @gangstalcous06 @uwunuggetchan @elijahssuit @multifandomreader73 @ellabellabus07 @blackloveangel13 @euphoria1992

@saltedcoffeescotch@lowkeysaurus@zealouscookierebeltrash@sleepilysworld@laylasbunbunny@american-satanes @cevans-winchester@avada-kedavra-bitch-187@jstarr86 @coquita @ilikepunsbeth@itsmytimetoodream @laury-blackbeak @unstablekay@midnightmisses@magical-spit @ratsys @hopexargent @druigsluver29 @fresita1218 @unicornicopia1@the-house-of-rose-and-ember@nessaasstuff@simon-e-mallory

@fandom-simp-aleksandra @isybella2408@cinffy23@second-daughter-of-clexa

@urmomsfav-stuff @evattude@cerejinha @the-irish-princess @alyeskathewave @heartfilia01 @jinxxangel13 @rinalouu @haikyuuswhore @arcaurix @cheshirecat484 @bloobewy @pinkrockstar19

Okay, I haven't read this yet, but I definitely need to go to bed, so I'm coming back for this tomorrow with a proper reblog!!

Help! I've Landed in a Fanfiction

Pairing: fem!OC x Justice League

Genre: OC insert, Soulmate AU, Isekai, Reverse Harem

Characters: OC, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Hal Jordan, Diana Prince, Barry Allen, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Cassandra Cain, Barbara Gordon, John Constantine, and other DC characters as the story progresses

Warnings: all warnings not tagged, suicidal ideation, domestic violence, general violence and dark, 18+ themes, read at your own risk

Summary: Katie Smith wakes up in a new world, one out of comic books and ridiculously cheesy tropes. All she wants to do is find her way back home, but no one is helping her. Worst of all, they claim to be her soulmates. Surely it's all dream. How can she make herself wake up?

Chapter 1 (This One)

Chapter 2

Chapter One: This Bald Guy is Seriously Creepy

Katie woke up sore and freezing. The soreness was nothing new, of course, but instead of her weighted blanket and soft mattress, the floor under her was hard and chilly. Goosebumps trailed up and down her arms. Groaning, she sat up, keeping her eyes closed to stave off the headache that was forming at her temple. God, I feel so hungover. Given that Katie hadn't touched alcohol since college, however, she shook that thought from her head.

Opening her eyes, she found herself in a small, empty room. There was a large mirror in front of her, spanning the length of the wall. The other three walls were made of cinder block, and she didn't see a door. It looked like a bastardized version of a police holding cell (she had bailed Matt out enough to know that space intimately), but there was no furniture. Shakily getting to her feet, she examined herself in the mirror.

Her hair was messy, and her pajama shorts did nothing to hide the cellulite on her thighs or the outline of her stomach. She cringed as she noticed her plain gray shirt riding up. She pulled it down and stepped closer to the mirror. Her black eye was fading (small mercies) but the wrinkles around her eyes didn't do anything to make her feel better about herself. Matthew would've commented on her ability to make herself look unattractive even in her sleep, and she felt a strong wave of shame come over her. She was about to turn away from the strange mirror when a shock of color visible on her shoulder stopped her. She pulled down her collar to investigate.

A large circle of dark green vines looked to be tattooed on her left shoulder, trailing from her collar bone to above her heart. In the middle were five smaller intersecting circles, golden yellow and almost sparkling. There was a small outline of a dove in the middle, in the same color green as the vines. She was mesmerized. It almost seemed to throb with her heartbeat. She was about to touch it when she shook herself out of her trance. Where was she?

An intercom buzzed overhead. Katie looked up but didn't see a speaker anywhere. She tried not to flinch. A deep, rich voice filled the space.

"I've been waiting all day for you to wake up, my dear. Unfortunately, I can't be there right now to give you a proper welcome."

Katie counted to ten in her head. She heard somewhere that you could get out of dreams that way and was anxious to try it. The voice sounded friendly, but in a dangerous way. She was well-acquainted with that tone and wondered why her brain would dredge it up here, especially since this week Matthew would be gone on a work trip and she was relatively safe. When nothing happened, Katie cleared her throat awkwardly.

"Um. I. I am confused?" She said timidly, lilting her voice into a question at the end.

"Of course, my rules are simple." The voice ignored Katie. She wondered it it was a recording. "Follow my directions and get privileges. Disobey and you will be more uncomfortable than you find yourself now."

"Where am I?"

The lights plunged into darkness and a screen was projected onto the mirror. A tall man in a bespoke suit appeared on the screen. He was sitting behind a desk, holding a scotch in one hand and tapping his other hand on his desktop as if he were already bored with the conversation. He was bald, but looked to be around Katie's age, if not a little older.

"There you are. I imagine you are confused but I don't have the time to explain everything. Rest assured, you will want to listen to me and listen closely. You are under my jurisdiction right now. You will do nothing without my permission. You will eat when I say, sleep when I say, and shit when I say."

"This has got to be a dream." Katie said absently, touching the mirror, wondering at her own imagination. It was the most vivid thing she had ever experienced.

"Are you listening to me?" The man cleared his throat, annoyed.

"Who are you?" Katie tilted her head.

He rolled his eyes. "You can call me Sir."

Katie snorted.

"You find that funny?"

"I mean, that's such a cheesy line. You realize that right?" Katie was still walking around the small cell, trying to find the door with her fingers.

"Look at me." Katie did flinch here, and cursed her dream-self for having the same reaction to a stern dream-voice as she did to a stern-real-world voice.

"I do not have time for this. All you need to know is I brought you here and I can keep you here."

"Mkay. You might want to chill on the villain talk. You sound like a movie character. I'm not calling you Sir, by the way." That's the thing about dreams, Katie thought. Bravery was a lot easier when everything was fake.

"I'll give you time to rethink that then." With that the video popped off and the room was filled with darkness. Katie couldn't see her hand in front of her face, and after bumping into the wall, she decided to sit down. She squeezed her eyes tightly and tried to transport herself to a dream-cabin or dream-beach. Surely she could imagine Hawaii. Instead of feeling the warm sand between her toes, however, all she felt was cold. It was like the room dipped even lower in temperature. She shivered and huddled in a corner. The darkness was oppressive--the silence was too. Her stomach grumbled, and she held it, eventually curling into a ball. She couldn't gauge the time but it felt like hours. She fell into a restless sleep, her last thought wondering if sleeping in a dream was going to send her into an Inception like trance. She laughed to herself, and hoped when she woke up she could forget everything and take a warm bath.

----

Katie woke up, a little warmer, still hungry, and unfortunately not back in her bedroom. She was no longer in the weird cell, but instead tied to a chair. Her gray shirt had been removed, leaving her in her bra and pajama shorts. Her wrists ached with the bindings and her glasses were slipping down her nose. She tried to push them up with her shoulder but couldn't move much.

She was in a large office. There was a window that spanned the floor to the ceiling and she could tell that she was high up, as the only thing visible was clouds and the tops of buildings.

A clearing of a throat let her know she wasn't alone. Katie groaned.

"You again?" The bald man looked affronted.

She felt at her bindings, again surprised that everything was so vivid. It really hurt and she had never thought being asleep could feel so real. She was rethinking her initial hypothesis. Hadn't recovered coma patients talked about feeling sensations in their unconsciousness?

"I realize I was remiss in not introducing myself the other day. So let's start over. Your name is?"

Katie looked incredulously at the man. "Katherine." She spit out.

"Katherine." He sneered. "I am Lex Luthor," he said self-importantly.

Ok then, back to her original hypothesis. Definitely a dream. Katie barked out a laugh.

"Yeah, right. And I'm Batman." She growled mockingly. "Honestly."

The man stepped closer. It's not like Katie was unaware of the comic books and movies, but she had never had time to really dive in. She was too busy managing Matt's schedule and making sure everything was perfect at home. The last time Katie picked up one of his collectibles to dust, she found herself with a lot more than a black eye. It wasn't really something she was interested in anymore. But she knew of Lex Luthor. He kind of looked like she would have imagined him looking, which made sense she guessed, if her brain was making it all up.

He trailed his fingers on her shoulder, tracing the weird design on her chest from her collarbone to just above her bra. She shivered in revulsion but the way she was tied to the chair didn't allow her much movement.

"Interesting." He hummed. "Have you heard of me?"

She looked him in the eyes and then looked away quickly as he smirked at her. "I mean, yeah? Comic book character, Lex Luthor. Superman's nemesis, right? I mean, I've never really read them or anything, but I saw Smallville once."

He was staring at her like a bug under a microscope. "Mm. What else do you know about me?"

Katie quirked an eyebrow. "I am confused."

"I expected that. You don't seem like a particularly bright woman. Definitely plain looking, overweight, extremely unremarkable. It's fascinating, isn't it?"

It's not like any of that was something Katie didn't think about herself daily, but she still felt a bit betrayed by her brain.

"What is?" She bit out.

"That you were chosen out of all the people in your world. That you were the one the whole universe decided upon. It's a shame. I'm sure there were so many more worthy than you."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know me as a character, darling? Tell me. How many people lived in your world?"

"My world? What are you talking about?"

"The global population. Try to keep up."

Katie was confused at what that could mean or why he was asking. She decided to play along since last time ended with her in a cold cell for hours.

"I don't know. Over 7 billion."

"Over 7 billion." He purred, practically petting the weird tattoo on her chest. "How does it feel to know that 7 billion people were sacrificed for the unimpressive specimen you are?"

Katie scrunched her nose. The man cosplaying as Lex Luthor in her mind laughed. "Do you know what this is?" He tapped the tattoo. She stayed silent.

"No. You wouldn't, would you? You don't know much. A world where the greatest minds are comic book characters. Where soul marks don't exist." Soul marks?, Katie mouthed to herself. "I almost feel sorry for you, honey. But at the end of the day, it doesn't really matter, does it? You're here for one reason and one reason only."

He ran his fingers through her messy hair. An alarm sounded in the distance.

"Let the games begin."

First off, Author, don't feel bad about jumping around, in my head it made the entire situation feel more frantic as Reader fought back, and Russo fought to find her, I think it tied together incredibly well.

ALSO WAIT EPILOGUE!? LAST CHAPTER!? No it can't be over so quickly, what am I to do without these amazing updates 😭😭😭

Teehee, love the ending, reader's in the middle of dying and Billy's got no choice, which is probably good because reader definitely needs to save her niece. I hope this doesn't affect her relationship with Billy 🤭🤭

MADANI ACTUALLY PULLED THROUGH? THANKS GIRL <3

Krista can go to hell, respectfully.

AHHH I love this series so much, you've done a fantastic job Author! Take Care! <3

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Eighteen

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R  Chapter Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Violence. A lot more violence than usual. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 4.3k

A/N : if you haven't already voted for what you want to see me write next, you've got a day and a half left

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE | CHAPTER TEN | CHAPTER ELEVEN | CHAPTER TWELVE | CHAPTER THIRTEEN | CHAPTER FOURTEEN | CHAPTER FIFTEEN | CHAPTER SIXTEEN | CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

MASTER LIST

Chapter Eighteen

It felt like the world was unravelling around him, like he was coming apart at the seams. While he’d said the words hours ago, it wasn’t until that moment that he started to feel the weight of them. He loved you. He loved you in a way that he’d never allowed himself to love anyone else. He loved you in a way that was so deep, so visceral that if he lost you, he knew he’d never recovered. 

You were inexorably linked, two halves of one soul. You were everything to him and Billy knew he couldn’t go back to the empty, bleak life he’d been living, no matter how many times he’d tried to convince himself overwise over the last couple of months.

His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, running a red light to get to Krista’s building. Frank and Madani were talking but, to Billy, it all just sounded like static in his ears.

He couldn’t lose you.

He wouldn’t.

Pulling up, he killed the engine and before anyone could think to speak or question, he was out of the car, clearing the steps to the building two at a time. Frank and Madani had to rush to keep up with him, each still talking, calling after him. But Billy didn’t care about waiting, about figuring out ‘what to do’. No, Billy knew what he was going to do; he was going to make Krista talk, he was going to make her understand why fucking with you had been the worst decision of her life

It was a blur and, for a few minutes he lost himself; he kicked the door open and the next thing he knew, he had his hands around her throat, with Frank yelling at him to calm down.

“Where is she?” The voice that left his lips wasn’t quite his own.

“Gone. I don’t know where,” Krista answered, grinning despite the grip he had on her. “You’ll never find her. Just like you never found Mary.”

Somehow Frank managed to wrench Billy away but Krista didn’t even try to escape. She was enjoying the scene playing out before her, she was taking pleasure in his pain, glad that she’d had some small part in causing it.

“Mary?” It was Madani who spoke, gun drawn, stepping forwards. “Mary Poots?”

“Poor little Mary,” Krista said in a sing-song tone, barely holding back a laugh. “You thought you could replace me with someone so... fragile...”

“You killed Mary Poots?” Madani tried to continue her line of questioning despite the fact that Krista’s attention was fully on Billy.

“Now you’re going to lose the new one,” Krista carried on, all eyes on her. “I’ll take the next one, too. And the one after that. All of them. Every last one, until I’m all you have left.”

“You’re fucking insane,” Billy spat and that drew a laugh from Krista.

“If I am, it’s because of you, because you infected me...” she laughed again. “Or, no, I suppose it was Layla... not that it matters. You fuck up everything you touch, don’t you, Billy?”

“Just tell me where she is!” Billy demanded.

He lunged towards her, but Frank was too quick, too strong, wrapping an arm around him and holding Billy back.

“I don’t know,” she answered, still smiling, seemingly unbothered. “I never asked and he never told. You shouldn’t worry, I’m sure she’ll make a beautiful bride. Her fiance was so happy to finally have her back.”

Billy snapped and snarled, struggling against Frank and against himself, his last shred of control quickly starting to split and fray. He wanted to kill her, wanted to do what he knew he should have done months ago.

“She’s not worth it, Bill,” Frank told him, trying to pull him away.

“You’ve just confessed to murder in front of a Federal Agent,” Madani finally piped up, earning a laugh from Krista, before her attention shifted to Frank and Billy. “If Justin Drake has her and they’re still in the city, we’ll be able to track her down.”

“And what if she’s not still in the city?” Billy snapped. “There’s only a few hours until dawn...”

“We’re going to find her,” Madani answered, her tone sharpening to match his.

“And what about her?” Frank dared to ask, drawing all eyes back to Krista.

“I can send someone to pick her up.”

Krista finally moved, attempting to bolt for the door but, somehow, Billy managed to wrench free of Frank’s grip and lunged for her, knocking into her so hard that they both fell to the ground.

She ripped and tore at him with her nails, sinking her fangs into his shoulder and not letting go until his elbow connected with her face. They rolled, Billy ending up on top before she caught him across the face, clawing at him. She rolled him, straddling him as she landed another hit across his face while Billy’s hands gripped her throat.

By the time Frank pulled her away, they were both bloody and bruised, each bearing the marks of each other’s hatred. She kicked and screamed against Frank’s grip as he pushed her face first into the wall, pinning her there while Madani cuffed her to a radiator.

“You think that’s gonna hold her?” Frank asked, eying Krista as she dropped to the ground.

“It’s all we can do for now,” Madani answered. “We need to move.”

“She needs to die,” Billy snarled.

It felt like his body was vibrating with rage, like the thing inside of him had finally won. But, before he could move, Frank was on him, forcing him backwards, hands shoving him so hard that he knocked the breath from Billy’s lungs.

“You wanna waste time on her while your girl’s out there? You wanna throw her life away and yours just so you can settle a score with this crazy bitch?” He barked in Billy’s face, shoving him again. Billy didn’t have an answer. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Now fucking move, this guy isn’t gonna find himself.”

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

It felt like the world had tilted on its axis and gripping the edge of the table was all you could do to keep yourself from falling. It had never made sense why he wanted you, why he’d been so adamant; you weren’t anything special, you weren’t worth anything (certainly not when compared to the amount of money your parents owed him). But, now you finally had answers, it made even less sense.

He was doing this because you looked like a distant relative who you shared only a fraction of your DNA with. 

He was doing this because she had denied him, just like you were trying to deny him.

He wanted you to be a vampire, to spend an eternity at his side.

“No.” The word fell from your mouth with a certainty that you didn’t feel.

“You don’t have a choice,” he retorted, already sounding like he was done with your denials and insolence.

“Yes, I do,” you answered back, remembering all the times Billy had told you as much.

You hadn’t believed it at the time, you’d thought that it was just a line, something he was telling you to make you feel better but, now, faced with someone who wanted to remove your choice, your agency, you realised that Billy had been right all along. Lifting your head and sitting a little straighter, you silently promised yourself that you weren’t going to cower before him, you weren’t going to let this sorry excuse for a man decide your future.

“You can do what you want to me. I’ll never be yours,” you told him. “Even if it takes my whole life, I’ll do everything I can to escape you.”

“I don’t know what you think you can -”

“I’m not afraid of you anymore,” you interrupted, not letting him get the upper hand, not letting him treat you like the naive child you had been when you last sat across from him. “You will never get what you want from me.”

Anger flickered across his face and it took him more than a few seconds to tamp it down again. Obviously he hadn’t been expecting such resistance from you.

But then came the laugh, a sound that caused dread to coil in your stomach.

“Like I told you; I’m a patient man and I have an eternity to bend you to my will,” he sai, his voice softer than his expression. “There might be nothing I can do to you anymore, but I already told you that your sister, her children...”

“You won’t hurt them.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Because you’ll lose your leverage over me if you do,” you answered, trying to hide the discomfort in your voice, hating that you were gambling with your sister’s safety. “And if you think I’m being difficult now, you’ve got no idea how much worse I can be.”  

Drake let out another callous huff of laughter, a twisted smile pulling at his lips.

“You’re right, but there are other ways to hurt you, aren’t there? Other people close to your heart...” he trailed off for a moment, letting his words sink in. “What about William Russo or his little human friend? Karen is it?”

As much as you wanted to remain defiant, the thought of anything happening to Billy made you feel sick to your stomach. You couldn’t let anything happen to him. You wouldn’t. 

Before you realised you were doing it, your hand was gripping the knife in front of you. 

It took him by surprise when you lunged across the table, aiming the blunt knife towards his chest despite knowing that it wouldn’t be enough to kill him. You didn’t care. The outcome of this didn’t matter; either he would die or you would. Either way, Billy would be safe.

Plates and glasses smashed as you half-fell over the table, tipping his chair back and knocking him to the floor, you on top of him.

His fingers gripped your wrist, stopping you as you tried to bring the knife down, holding the tip only a few inches from his chest.

There was noise all around you and it wasn’t until some time later that you realised it was you, that you were screaming, telling him you were going to kill him, that you wouldn’t stop until he was dead.

The struggle felt like it lasted a lifetime when, in reality, a few seconds after you’d cleared the table, one of his goons had arrived and pulled you off him. Kicking and screaming, you were carried back to your room and thrown inside.

You landed with an awkward thud, pain radiating up your bad arm despite the cast. But, seconds later, you were back on your feet, banging against the door, trying to get out, only to find that you were locked in. But that didn’t stop you from continuing to kick and scream at the door, telling him that you were going to kill him, that the only way he’d stop you was by killing you.

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

After they’d left Josie’s, Frank had text Karen to let her know what was going on and where they were headed. She decided to stick around and keep asking questions around the bar, making sure that nothing had been missed but, after half an hour or so, she decided to call it a night and head home.

She left with your suitcase, having stuffed Bill the Beagle back inside, rolling it along the sidewalk behind her. Her apartment was only a couple of blocks away and, despite the late hour, she’d never felt particularly unsafe walking home from Josie’s.

“Hey, uh, excuse me Miss?” A voice rang out.

Not thinking, Karen stopped and turned, seeing a large man dressed in a dark suit heading towards her.

“Can I help you with something?” She asked, finally noticing the limo parked in front of Josie’s.

It couldn’t be a coincidence; Josie’s wasn’t the sort of place anyone would want to leave a limousine, especially not twice in one night. Karen took a step back, realisation causing her blood to turn ice cold in her veins.

“Yeah, I think that suitcase belongs to a friend of mine,” he answered, slowly stepping towards her. 

The moment he started to move, Karen reached into her purse, trying to find her gun but not taking her eyes off of him for even a second.

“Funny,” she answered, “because this case happens to belong to a friend of mine.” 

Gun in hand, she lifted it, pointing it straight at him, causing him to stop dead in his tracks. She couldn’t be sure if he was a vampire or not, but she wasn’t going to take any chances, and aimed the gun at his chest. It might not kill him, but it would definitely slow him down.

“Where is she?” Karen demanded.

“It’s none of your concern,” he answered back, daring to take the slightest step but hesitating  again when Karen lifted the gun a little higher, aiming for his heart.

“I said, where is she?” She repeated, taking a step of her own.

“She’s with her fiance and if I were you, I’d just hand over the case.”

Karen opened her mouth about to refuse again when he moved, clearing the distance between them with a supernatural speed, knocking the gun from her grasp and into the road. As she moved to grab the suitcase, he struck her with the back of his hand, knocking her off balance and sending her to the pavement.

Karen scrambled for the gun but, by the time she had it, he was almost back at the limo, throwing the case into the passenger side before moving around to the driver's door.

As he started up the engine, Karen noticed a taxi and quickly tried to flag it down. When it didn’t stop, she stepped out into the street in front of it, making it stop for her.

“Follow that limo,” she told the driver as she climbed into the back.

“Listen, lady, I -” the driver started to refuse.

“No, you listen, the piece of shit that owns that limo has kidnapped a friend of mine and I have a gun, so you can either follow that limo and get paid at the end of this, or I’m going to have to take your taxi.”

The threat hung in the air for a few seconds. She could see the driver wearily eyeing her in the rearview, no doubt taking note of the gun in her lap and her split lip.

“Alright, fine, just don’t go doin’ anything crazy,” he muttered before starting after the limo.

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

They were barely outside of Krista’s building when Frank got the call. Billy watched as his friend's expression dropped from one of calm control to absolute rage in less than five seconds. He’d been busy listening to Madani, to all the measures she was putting in place to try and track you down; tracking the limo, credit cards, checking hotel guest lists. It only vaguely occurred to him that it wasn’t until then that he heard your so-called fiance’s name for the first time tonight.

Justin Drake.

Not that it mattered what his name was; he’d be a dead man the moment Billy got his hands on him.

But, for a few seconds, all of that stopped mattering and his attention was fixed on Frank.

“Are you okay?” he demanded of the person on the other end of the call. “Did he hurt you?” There was a pause for an answer that Billy couldn’t quite make out over the sound of traffic. “Where are you? No - no, stay outside and wait for us. We’ll be there in five minutes.”

“What’s going on?” Billy asked the moment Frank ended the call.

“He sent one of his goons after the suitcase. Karen followed him back to the Park View hotel, she thinks that’s where he’s got her.” Frank explained.

A second later Madani was relaying that information on her call, but Billy was already moving for the car, and Frank was quick to follow.

“Wait, I can get back up and -” Madani started, falling into step behind the men.

“We ain’t waiting,” Frank answered.This time it was his turn to be angry. They’d gone near Karen and, now, it was personal for him. 

The conversation continued as they got in the car and carried on until they arrived at the hotel; Madani wanted to wait for back-up. Billy and Frank didn’t. It was that simple. They weren’t going to wait.

“You can help us, or you can stay here,” Frank told her, though his attention was immediately focused on Karen the moment he saw her, his blood starting to boil at the sight of her split lip. “We’re killin’ this fucker.”

“Yeah we are,” Billy responded.

Frank gave Karen some quick instructions, telling her to go wait in the car and to stay out of the way. He tried to tell Madani to wait with her but the Homeland Agent refused, trying one last time to convince them to just wait a few more minutes for back-up to arrive. Before she could even finish, Billy was moving past her and heading for the hotel’s entrance.

He moved through the lobby, drawing stares from everyone that looked his way; blood from the wounds that Krista had inflicted was still fresh on his clothes and he looked as if he’d just torn someone apart with his bare hands.

By the time he reached the front desk, there were already two members of the hotel security team standing there.

“I’m Agent Madani with Homeland Security,” she spoke before anyone else had the chance, and before Billy had the opportunity to do anything stupid. “You have a Justin Drake staying here, I need access to his rooms, now.” 

“I can’t just -” the receptionist started to answer.

“He has a woman with him up there, doesn’t he?” Madani asked, stepping up to the desk. “A woman that turned up earlier tonight?”

Billy took a step forward, getting ready to take matters into his own hands.

“I can’t reveal -” the receptionist tried again.

“He kidnapped her,” Billy snapped, “and he’s planning on hurting her. So you can either let us in peacefully, or we can make you.”

The security guards moved closer but then, at the sight of Frank stepping forwards, they seemed to shy away.

“We can wait for a warrant, or you can let us in now. Either way, if anything happens, it’ll be on you,” Madani explained. “Call Homeland - hell, call the cops, the FBI, whoever you want. Have us arrested when we’re done. But if anything happens, her blood will be on your hands.”

“And we’ve got Karen Page from The Bulletin sittin’ outside waitin’ for her friend to come out, so I suggest if you don’t wanna be named as complicit in this...” Frank let the threat go unfinished.

The receptionist had turned snow white, her hands trembling as she handed over a keycard and directed them to the elevator. The two hotel security members followed after.

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

You heard the commotion before everything went to hell.

There was a phone call; from what you could gather they had a friend in the FBI who’d gotten wind of a Homeland investigation, and there was about to be a raid on the hotel. They needed to get out of there, as quickly as they could.

“Come on,” he demanded, holding out his hand to you.

“No.”

“I’ve had enough of your games,” he muttered, his voice changing, turning softer. “Now, come with me.”

When he held out his hand again, you took a step towards him, wanting to do exactly as he said.

“N-no,” you said, shaking your head, trying to block him out, trying not to let him sway you.

“Come on, come with me. Right now,” he tried again.

Again you took a step, then another. Something inside of you told you to stop, to fight him, but you couldn’t. All you wanted to do was go with him.

“That’s it, come along and -”

“Boss, they’re in the elevator!”

The sudden disruption was enough to snap you out of it. You stepped back, reestablishing the space between you. You weren’t going to make this easy for him. 

“Told you I’d never be yours,” you muttered defiantly, triumphantly.

You both knew that there was no way that Drake was going to get out of this, at least not with you at his side. He’d have to let you go if he wanted to escape.

But you realised all too late what letting go looked like to Justin Drake.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” He asked, starting towards you. “I would have given you everything if only you’d chosen not to act like a tempermental whore. But it’s really no bother. I’m sure when your niece is old enough she’ll be far more amenable, far more grateful for what I have to offer.” 

You stepped back as he closed the distance, until you found yourself against the window.

“At least I get to have one last taste,” he muttered darkly.

“No!” 

Your arms shot out, trying to push him away, trying to keep him from biting you. But he was bigger than you and infinitely stronger. He pushed you back, held you in place despite your thrashing and screaming. You tried everything you could to stop him from pressing closer and closer, trying to turn away as he bowed his head towards your neck.

“Not so defiant now, are you?”

“Please, no - no!” You screamed and begged, tears streaming down your face.

He bit down. Hard. 

Fangs tore through flesh, but rather than lingering to feed, he pulled back, his lips and chin dripping dark with your blood.

It took a moment for you to realise that blood was slowly filling your throat, that he’d left you with more than just a puncture wound.

Your hand lifted as he pulled back and started to walk away, feeling the wound he’d left and the way blood was spurting from it. Lightheadedness quickly over took and you found yourself sliding down the glass and onto the floor. Desperately you reached for the hoodie you’d discarded on the floor when you’d changed for dinner, pressing it against the wound, hoping you’d survive long enough to see Billy one last time.

You weren’t sure what was happening, but you heard gunshots and shouting. Then someone was at your side, her hand holding the hoodie tighter against your wounds and shouting for Billy. 

Madani.

(What was Madani doing there?)

“Hold on, help’s on the way,” she told you, but the words barely registered.

You had so many questions but it seemed too late to try and ask them.

But finally - finally  - Billy was at your side. Dropping to his knees, his eyes filling with tears at the sight of you.

“B-Billy,” you managed to choke out despite the blood filling your mouth and lungs, “you’re h-here...”

You felt him squeezing your hand, holding you so tight, like he never wanted to let you go. There were tears in his eyes as he looked down at you and you knew exactly what they meant; you were dying. In your efforts to save him the pain of watching you die, you’d brought it about decades early.

“I told you,” he muttered softly, “I’ll never let you go.”

Madani continued to press the cloth against your wound but you could tell from Billy’s face that it wasn’t helping.

“S-sorry,” you tried to mutter, wishing that you had more time, wishing that you could apologise properly.

“Don’t,” he told you, “don’t try to talk. Just - just stay still, stay with me, it’s going to be alright.”

“I l-love -” you couldn’t finish, there was too much blood and you were starting to feel so cold, so tired.

“Hey - hey, hummingbird, keep your eyes on me. It’s going to be okay,” Billy told you, but his voice sounded so far away. 

You struggled to hold his gaze, some part of you glad that you’d gotten to see him one last time, but the rest of you hated the agony on his face and the tears streaking down his cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” he told you, squeezing your hand tighter, like he was trying to hold you in this life and not let you slip away. “I love you and - and I’m sorry, I know you’ll hate me but...”

The rest faded into the sound of your own panic, some part of you knowing what he was trying to tell you, knowing what he wanted to do. You tried to shake your head, tried to pull at his hand but you were so weak you could barely move. 

You were so far gone that you didn’t hear him screaming and pleading with Frank, nor did you hear Frank’s initial refusal and Billy’s threat to do it himself. 

Your eyes went wide when Frank loomed over you, looking at you for a moment, an unspoken apology colouring his features. You tried to speak, trying to say something - though, confronted with your own death, even you weren’t sure what you wanted anymore. But you felt Billy’s hand squeezing yours and some piece of you wanted to hold on, wanted to have his hand in yours for longer than this moment, longer than the six months that you’d had together. 

You wanted him.

You wanted the man you loved.

(It wasn’t fair. You didn’t want to die. You didn’t want to leave him.)

But it was too late. Your eyes fell shut and you let out a gurgled breath, and the last thing you heard was Billy’s shouts.

End Note : So, yeah... I have a lot of feelings about this chapter. I know it jumps around and I'm not the greatest at action sequences (I'm working on it). And I know people won't like the ending and so on, but I'm having fun. I'm not sure if next week will be the last part now or if I'll have an epilogue the week after to tie up loose ends. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this and it wasn't a let down! Also I'm sorry if any typos slipped through, I lost a night of writing to go see Deadpool last night..

As ever, thank you so much for your support/reading/liking/reblogging/screaming at me in the comments! Have a great weekend!!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt.

Tag List : @vaguekayla @thdcre @rensolodriver @house-husband-of-castlemurdock

@snowkestrel @danzer8705 @noortsshift @aoi-targaryen @lincerad

@vxnity713 @readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure @dreadfulxives18 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @glamourbabe17

@sweetserendipity65 @damagelove @strangerfromketterdam @a-starrynightwith-u @readingabouthim

@countryday @weepingwitchofthewest @broadwaybabe18 @bunnygirlwriter876 @oliviaewl

@rosey1981 @benbarnesprettygurl @rachlovesactors @robertthehoover @ladyblacky

@goldenbeskar @mydarlingnana @strwbrrynd @cheshirecat484 @jvanilly

@ashy-kit @jazzclubprincess @arwensloanebarnes

Saving this for later! <33

Fic Recs (Harry Potter Editon III)

All fics are fem!reader

Marvel One Two Three Harry Potter One Two Three Stranger Things One Two Three Four Five Specific Characters Tangerine Masterlist

Why Didn’t We Work Out? by @astonishment

Pairing: James Potter x Reader Summary: “James Potter had two girlfriends in his seventh yeat at Hogwarts. Y/N Y/L/N, who he dated for five months; and Lily Evans, who he dated afterwards. When he’s dared to call one of his exes, guess who’s number he dials…”

Morning Coffee by @thewriterghost

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x Reader Summary: “You bring morning coffee to the boys.” 

Not So Secret Admirer by @kquil (Part Two)

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader Summary: “you can't hide your adoration for remus lupin and often end up staring at him, good thing he thinks you're really cute”

With All Due Respect by @writesowhatnext

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader Summary: “Remus and the reader are best friends and that’s it and it’s so absurd that Remus keeps insisting that they’re anything more, right?”

Never His by @weasleykisses

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader Summary: “when James needs help asking out Lily, he enlists you to play his fake girlfriend to make her jealous. In the process, you end up making Remus Lupin green with envy.”

Dealbreaker by @luveline

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader Summary: “you work in a bookstore. sirius keeps finding reasons to need books. ”

Pretty Boy by @alwaysmoncheri

Pairing: James Potter x Reader Summary: “you think james is really pretty—unfortunately for you, sirius notices and decides to take matters into his own hands”

Dizzy by @moonstruckme

Pairing: Roommate!James Potter x Reader Summary: “when your roommate James comes home after a night out with his friends, he's acting even more affectionate than usual”

Coach P. by @soupandsimple

Pairing: Coach!James Potter x Teacher!Reader Summary: “gym coach James being called out by a student for often visiting you during their art class”

Flirtation by @moonstruckme

Pairing: Sirius Black x Shy!Reader Summary: “when Sirius won't stop tormenting you with pet names, you think to take revenge, but he doesn't react as you expected”

Ahh I'm loving this series!!! Reader is an interesting character, can't wait for the angst!

Great chapter, and I'm desperate for more 🙏

Get Off the Highway || Chapter 5

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 1.6 k 

Warnings/tags: Enemies to lovers trope, angst, childhood trauma, eldest daughter syndrome

A/N: Let’s learn more about reader, shall we? No Winchesters in this chapter, sorry guys!

Previous Chapter || Chapter List || Next chapter

Masterlist || Join my tag list

Tag list: @marytheweefrenchie; @lyarr24; @deans-baby-momma; @just-cuzz22; @cheshirecat484;

@kr804573; @zepskies; @impalari; @urinternetmom; @sushiumex;

@maackiimoo

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Life was running its course as usual. Well, as usual as it could when you were a hunter. Your family didn’t quite know about this new career of yours. Except for your brother. To the other members of your family, you were travelling the roads of the states, doing odd jobs. You never went into specifics; they didn’t need to know everything.

Your father thought you were wasting your time, seeing as you weren’t making a lot of money. And it was true, being a hunter wasn’t always rewarding—financially. But money didn’t really matter to you. Helping people was far more important than anything else in your eyes. Also, it was reward enough to finally do something you chose for yourself.

Graduating high school, going to college, had all been for your father. You were the eldest and the first one to go to college, your father was proud of that. He had told you that much. You were going to set an example for your younger siblings. A good example they were supposed to follow. But none of them had. And they were still successful, while you had been stuck doing something that had made you miserable.

You graduated, of course, you had put in the work. And you may have gone to a community college but your degree was worth the same as one you may have gained from Yale or Stanford. People tend to look down on people who went to community college. As though your education had less value because you didn’t pay 30k or more to get into college. Of course, Community college didn’t have the same facilities as a prestigious one but you were still getting a good education. One that had the same value that one could receive in those high paid colleges.

College had offered you some time away from the chaos that was your home life. But it had also further strained your relationship with your siblings. And from that point forward there were no going back to the way things were before that.

“Dad, I’m trying to help here.” You sighed, frustration slowly rising in your chest.

“Help? How am I supposed to pay for this?” Your father shot back. “I don’t have 300 bucks laying around.”

It was a lie. He had the money; he just didn’t want to use it. His door had broken due to poor maintenance on his part. It needed to be fixed. You had found the people to fix it. It was, in your opinion, for a good price. But for him it was too expensive. He wanted things done for him without having to pay for anything. He even looked at you, asking you if you had the money to pay for it.

“Then, leave it open.” You snapped.

“Mind your tone with me.” He said in a warning tone.

“Oh, I am, trust me.” You replied. “You don’t want to fix it, and you don’t want to leave it open. So, what do you want to do?”

“So, I should just pay the guy?”

“YES!” Your hand slammed on the counter in your outburst. You took a deep breath. You needed to get out of this house before it escalated into something far bigger. “It’s either you pay the guy and he fixes your door. Or you don’t and your door stays open for strangers to waltz in. Your choice.”

You left after that. You knew your father, he was going to fight you on this, grumbling for hours, fight some more and then simply agreed to it. Walking away was the best decision, it saved you from the unnecessary headaches.

Dealing with your parents was unpleasant to say the least. Your siblings had limited their contacts with them and you were the only one who still had a relationship with them. Although, at times like this, you still wondered why. One could say; “Well, it’s family.” However, family wasn’t everything. Family didn’t excuse everything. Not to you anyway. Not anymore

Thankfully, Garth needed your assistance on a hunt. You were more than happy to help him. Especially, if this hunt was taking you away from your infuriating ways. Unfortunately, you wouldn’t be working with Garth on this one. It was a fellow hunter that required assistance. A fellow hunter, you’d rather avoided. For as long as you could.

His name was Andy. Tall, freckled face, blonde hair, a really handsome fella. You two had met on a hunt and hit it off pretty quickly. It was nothing more than a fling. Or so, you thought. You weren’t looking for anything serious. But it had become so. He was a good guy and had treated you well. And yet, things between had ended in a somewhat sour note.  

“Hey, pretty girl.” He greeted you as you sat across the booth from him.

“Hey, Andy.” You greeted him back.

“You’re looking real good.” He smirked leaning across the table. “Are those new jeans?”

“Andy—” You sighed tiredly. “I’m not here for that. You said you needed help.”

He put his hands up, and he leaned back. “Business as usual.”

You scoffed. “So, what is this about?”

There was nothing the two of you couldn’t do together, Andy had told you, once upon a time. When the two of you were hunting together. Before there were feelings involved. Before it had gotten messy. You worked well together, you always had. But things between you had gotten complicated. And you decided to just walk away. It was easier this way.

The hunt had gone fairly quickly. Nothing any of you had not faced before. He was sitting in your motel room, shirtless while you patched him up. He let out a hiss as you pierced his skin with the needle.

“Sorry,” you quietly said. You worked in silence, piercing his skin with the needle and thread, sewing his skin back together. You were focused on making sure the stitches weren’t too tight.

“Where did you go?” Andy asked you suddenly.

You paused, glancing up at him. “What?”

“When you left, where did you go?”

You let out a deep breath, “as far away as I could.”

“Was I so bad you had to run away?” He scoffed.

“No. If anything you were—you are one of the good ones.” You reassured him. “I’m not.” You paused, resuming the stitching. “I thought it better to run away to save you from me. I would have hurt you.”

“Bullshit.” He snorted, you frowned.

“So, you know better than I do?”

“In fact, I do.” Andy reached for your hands, stopping their movements. “You got scared because of what you were feeling. And instead of trying to find out if I was feeling the same, you ran away. It was easier than rejection.”

Way to call you the fuck out? You remained quiet and pulled your hands away and finished stitching him up. Could he really blame you for this? He knew the kind of home you grew up in. He knew what sort of childhood you had. You told yourself you wouldn’t walk away from him. You liked him a lot, he made you feel good, put a smile on your face. He made you happy and that terrified you. So much so, you simply walked away from him.

“I’m sorry for hurting you by leaving.” You apologized softly, without looking at him. “You deserved better.”

“So did you.” He got up from his seat, he put his shirt back on and you turned to him. He had a soft and sad look on his face.

“I left you.” You reminded him.

“I know.” He stepped closer to you; his hand came to rest on your shoulder. He leaned in, his lips brushed against your temple. “Still, you deserved better too.” Andy grabbed his coat before going for the door. He turned to you, “see you around beautiful.”

“See you around handsome.” You smiled back and watched him leave.

Your throat clogged up; your eyes welled up with tears. Regrets clawing at your chest. Every single time, you let yourself have feelings for someone, you enjoyed the relationship and then—you get cold feet, you get scared and you ran away from them. Why couldn’t you just let yourself be happy? Why did you have to go and ruin everything?

And what you hated the most was the fact that he didn’t hate you. It would have been easier if he had been mad. If he had told you how horrible you made him feel. It would have felt better if he had told you he would never forgive you for hurting him the way you did. If he simply hated you as he should have. But none of that happened and it made you feel utterly horrible for the way you ended things.

Andy deserved better from you. Much better.

Your siblings were raised the same way you were and yet, they were happily married with kids. And you just couldn’t understand why it was not happening for you. Why were you so afraid and why were they not? Maybe there was something wrong with you. Maybe you were more broken than the rest of them. Maybe, you were broken in ways they were not.

Or maybe— maybe, you weren’t simply made for love. Or at least, there was no one in this world that you could love, or that could love you. In some toxic and twisted part of your brain, you had wanted for Andy to come after you, to fight you on this. You had expected a text or a call, for him to ask you what was going on. But none came, you left and he had accepted it. Even now, he did not fight you back on this. But he did not.

You weren’t good enough for your parents and you weren’t good enough for your siblings. Why would you be good enough for Andy? Why would he want to fight for someone like you? When even your parents did not care to do so.

You weren’t good enough.

You never had been.

Previous Chapter || Chapter List || Next chapter

This fic is so underrated!?! Every chapter has been so interesting and enjoyable, you're doing an amazing job, author! Take care! <3

Get Off the Highway || Chapter 8

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 1.9 k 

Warnings/tags: Enemies to lovers trope, angst, childhood trauma, eldest daughter syndrome

A/N: Events take place between Pac-Man Fever (8.20) and The Great Escapist (8.21) continues into the next chapter.

Previous Chapter || Chapter List || Next chapter

Masterlist || Join my tag list

Tag list: @marytheweefrenchie; @lyarr24; @deans-baby-momma; @just-cuz22 ; @cheshirecat484;

@ninii-b; @violetswritingg; @foxyjaina; @soph69420world; @tinydancer40;

@kr804573; @zepskies; @impalari; @urinternetmom; @sushiumex;

@maackiimoo; @stoneyggirl2

Dividers by @cafekitsune

“Garth, call me back please,” you said on the phone. “I need to know that you’re okay. Just call me, okay?”

You shut your trunk after dropping your duffel bag in. You were starting to get worried about Garth. You received a call from a hunter, two towns over, he couldn’t reach Garth but the latter had given him your number a few months ago just in case.

The last you’d heard of him or even spoken to him, was during that werewolf case, outside of Portland. And ever since, he went radio silent. You had no other way to reach him. You reached out to the Winchesters, questioning them about Garth. But they hadn’t heard from him, either.

Unfortunately, you had to put your worries regarding Garth at the back of your mind. The job never stopped.

“Anybody home?” You called, walking down the stairs that led you into the underground bunker.

“Hey, what brings you to our necks of the woods, Princess?” Dean greeted you at the foot of the stairs.

“I just finished up a hunt two towns over,” you explained. “Thought I’d make a quick stop. If that’s okay with you?”

“And if it’s not?”

“Too bad, I’m already here.” You moved past him as he rolled his eyes, stepping into the war room. “Woah. You look a little worse for wear,” you commented when you saw Sam.

He looked sickly sitting at the table, with a blanket around his shoulders, “good to see you too.” He let out a low ghost of a laugh.

You gave him a quick hug, “you got a terrible fever, my dude.” You placed your hand on his forehead, and brushed his hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Sam assured you. But you weren’t convinced.

“Yeah, well, you need to take something for that fever,” you stepped around him towards the bedrooms area. “Like some paracetamol or something.”

“Hey, you’ve heard anything from Garth?” Dean followed you.

You shook your head, “nothing. I keep trying but he’s not returning my calls.” You stepped into your assigned bedroom, with Dean on your heels, “and my contacts haven’t heard of him either. I don’t like that.”

“There’s nothing we can do about it, anyway,” he retorted, you dropped your bag on the bed.

“I know—but I’m worried. I know he’s capable and all, but—he’s off the grid. And no one’s go off the grid unless—you know.”

“I know,” he sighed. “But it’s Garth. He’s a tough one.”

“Yeah,” you crossed your arms over your chest, letting out a deep breath. “I guess I’m just worried about him.”

“Yeah,” he turned around to leave your room.

“Hey, is everything okay with Sam?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he told you. “I’m handling it.”

And without a word, he walked out, pulling the door behind him.

“Noted.”

Although, you and Dean had grown somewhat friendly within the last few months. He was still guarded around you. Certain subjects, such as his brother’s conditions, were topics he’d rather not discuss with you. You were a little miffed about it. It was a little unfair, you thought, that he would shut you down. Not that you were much of an open book either.

Barefooted, dressed in dark spandex and tie dye crop top, you made your way into the kitchen. You dropped the empty laundry basket on the kitchen table. It was a lazy day at the bunker for you, the brothers were working on their own thing. You didn’t pry but you were curious, wondering whether or not it had anything to do with Sam’s declining health. Dean had made it clear that it wasn’t any of your business.

“Someone’s getting comfortable around here,” Dean quipped from behind you, startling you.

“How do you keep on doing this?” You hissed, clutching your chest. You looked down at his boots, “it’s not like you’re really quiet.”

“You should get your ears checked,” Dean walked up to the fridge.

“You’re right, I might have hearing problems,” you leaned against the counter, crossing your arms over your chest. “At least, it would explain all the nonsense coming out of your mouth.”

He scoffed, opening his beer bottle. Sam stumbled into the kitchen, looking worse than he had the morning you arrived. Dark circles under his eyes, pale skin, clammy with sweat because of his high fever.

“Can I get you anything, Sam?” You asked gently.

“No, I’m good,” Sam shook his head, with a strained smile. “Thanks,” he poured himself a glass of water.

The tension grew instantly when your eyes caught Dean’s while Sam walked out of the kitchen.

“Not so fast, Bucko,” you rushed to step in front of him, blocking his exit out of the kitchen. “I’ve been here a total of three days and he’s not getting better. So, what’s really going on?”

“That’s crazy,” you commented. “Shutting the gates of hell for good that sounds—unreal.”

“Locking away those sons of bitches, halve our workload,” Dean agreed. “Promised Land.”

“Just forgot to read the fine print, that’s all,” you said sardonically. “He’s gonna be okay, you know that, right?”

Dean’s eyes locked onto yours, “yeah, Sam’s a tough son of a bitch but I don’t know, man. Those trials are messing with him in ways even Cass can’t heal.”

“I still can’t believe you have an Angel on speed dial,” you shook your head.

“He’s not answering much these days,” he said dryly.

“So, there’s one trial left, right? And you haven’t figured out what it is, yet?”

“Still working on that,” Dean leaned against the wall.

You didn’t know exactly what to answer to that. So, you remained quiet. Frankly, you were trying to wrap your mind around the fact that the Winchesters were friends with an Angel of the Lord. Also, that prophets were real. This was a lot to take in.

And yes, the prospect of demons no longer being able to roam the earth was amazing. Was it worth the sacrifice? Sam and Dean thought it was and took on the challenge, still, this seemed unreal and unfeasible.

“You know he’ll pull through, right?” You tried, “you said it yourself; he’s a tough nut to crack. He’ll make it through.”

“Should’ve been me,” he said, his expression hardening to stone.

“Maybe it worked out this way because Sam needs to go through the trials more than you do?” You suggested very tentatively.

“I don’t want to hear that,” he growled, pushing away from the wall.

You watched as he stalked away from you, coming to the realization that the thought had probably crossed his mind already. The trials were messing with Sam in a very bad way, and Dean couldn’t fix it. It must be frustrating for him to see his little brother be in pain and not be able to do anything about it. And as a big sister, yourself, you understood the feeling more than he knew.

“Hey, stupid!” You greeted your brother, folding your clean and dry clothes, in your bedroom.

“Hey,” your brother, Matt, greeted back. “Are you on a hunt, right now?”

“Nah, having some R&R here in Kansas, why?” You asked curiously, pausing the folding.

“I think there’s a case here for you,” he breathed out.

“A case? How do you mean?”

“Well, some weird stuff had been happening lately at my workplace,” Matt started to explain, you could hear people talking in the distance, behind him.

“Weird how?”

“Look, a few weeks ago, one of my good buddy completely lost it and walked right into traffic,” he explained.

“And is he okay?”

“He’ll survive but it’s gonna take a while for him to recover fully,” Matt sighed. “There’s more.”

“Tell me,” you encouraged him to continue.

“A few days after that, another coworker thought drinking hot boiling water was a good idea.”

“What the hell?” You stood up from your bed, fishing for clothes. “Did something weird happen before it all started?”

“That’s the thing. Nothing changed,” your brother told you. “Does that sound like your kind of weird?”

“Yeah, it does,” you agreed. “I’m gonna hit the road as soon as I can. Do me a favor?”

“What?”

“Don’t touch anything until I get there.”

Once you changed into fresh clothes, you walked into the war room, clutching your duffel bag in one hand.

“You’re leaving already?” Dean questioned; his bows scrunched up.

Your eyebrows went up, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you sound pretty sad that I’m leaving.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, princess,” he rolled his eyes. “Just curious.”

“Whatever you say, bucko,” you snorted. “And to answer your question, yes, I’m leaving. My brother found me a case back home. I’m gonna go check it out.”

“I thought he wasn’t a hunter?” Sam asked you.

“He isn’t,” you shook your head. “It’s just that some weird things have been happening and he thought I could do something about it.”

“What kind of weird things?” Dean questioned.

“One colleague of his walked directly into traffic. And another one drank boiling water. I was thinking along the lines of cursed object or maybe some sort of mind control. But I’ll know more when I get there,” you shrugged.

“Do you want help?” Sam offered.

“I’m sure you guys have bigger fish to fry,” you shook your head quickly. Ready to bolt out of there. “I’ll call if I need anything.”

“Afraid of us meeting your family or something?” Dean stood up and walked up to you.

You glared up at him, “look, if you just want to come with, you can just say it.”

His lips tugged up at the corner, “come on, Sammy, grab your stuff.”

You puffed out a deep breath, “this ought to be fun.”

The impala parked next to your beat-up truck; you fished out your keys as you made your way to your building. Sam and Dean walked up behind you. You were still annoyed at their being there with you. It wasn’t so much; you didn’t want them to meet your brother. But more of your not wanting your brother to be part of the hunting world. It was your way of protection him. Sure, Matt had met Andy and Garth but no one else. And now, you were bringing the Winchesters to your door. You weren’t sure, it was a great idea.

You unlocked your door, Dean and Sam followed you inside. You dropped the keys on the table near the door, and you moved to your brother’s side. He was sleeping on your couch. Meanwhile, Dean and Sam took a look around your apartment. Up on your wall, next to your television, was a picture of four kids. Three out of four kids were sitting down, while the one he recognized as you, stood behind all three, with your arms around their shoulders. Looked like a school picture.

Your apartment looked lived in, it was neat, with some green plants here and there. There was a bookshelf in the small space near the couch, with some collectibles placed on it. A real nerd. He shook his head, turning back to you, your brother sitting up, slightly coming back to the land of the living.

“Go wash up your face, stupid,” you slapped his leg. “I’ll get some coffee ready for you.”

“Who are the lumberjacks?” Matt yawned.

“I’m Sam,” Sam was the first to introduce himself. “And that’s my brother, Dean. We’re friends of your sister.”

“Barely,” Dean mumbled, and you glared at him.

“So, you weren’t lying, you do have friends.” Matt teased you.

You stood up, before slapping his shoulder, “get going already.”

“So, we’re friends, now?” Dean said with a smug smile on his lips.

“Shut up.”

Previous Chapter || Chapter List || Next chapter

This is so heartbreaking omg! amazing chapter Leah, absolutely in my feels right now. Poor Reader....

I know Matt will be there when she wakes up but I'm still so sad 😢

The Sun Will Rise

Wake Up, Chapter 8

Series Masterlist           Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: In an attempt to stop the advances of an unwanted suitor, Matt Murdock accidentally condemns you to being his fake girlfriend.

warnings: sexual assault themes and descriptions, if non-con themes trigger you please do not read. other warnings: swearing, misogynistic language, violence

This chapter is very intense. I tried to keep the S/A stuff as not graphic as possible to avoid triggering people but it is very much there and the violence is more present than any other chapter.

a/n: Today has been a fucking DAY yall. My new cat got sick (he’s ok he just ate too fast and then got sick on me and my bed which was gross), I am having issues with pay equity at work, and trying to deal with utility issues in my house. I am very sorry for the late update. PLEASE let me know how you feel about this chapter, your comments and reblogs literally make my day every week. 

w/c: ~4.5k

Four years ago, you’d been desperate for a change.  Despite spending thousands on a fancy degree, you had gotten nowhere in the legal field and your job waiting tables at a diner in Queens barely paid the bills, though you were grateful for the work. 

Pouring coffee and taking orders wasn’t the worst job you’d ever had and the majority of customers during your shifts were sweet. You played the role of “cute, friendly waitress” well, making even the grouchiest patrons appreciate your soft smile and quick response time. Maybe this persona you’d adopted in your efforts to avoid your crippling anxiety was the reason he started looking your way. Perhaps it was your obvious desperation to be liked. Whatever it was that drew his attention, it was your eventual disinterest that kept it. 

The first day you met James Lannister was a shitty one. You’d worked a double shift, meaning you had been less than perky towards the end of it, leading to stupid mistakes and screaming customers. Emotions were running high when he took a seat in your section, so his calm demeanor and attentive smile drew you in. 

He’d only made pleasant conversation with you the first few visits. Asking about your day, your week, your hobbies, your interests, your family, your aspirations. Anyone would’ve been eager to spill their guts to him, he was quite charming. The way that his green eyes pooled with fascination as you spoke was almost reverent. No man in your life had ever made you feel that way, like nothing else in the room mattered. 

Which is why the red flags zipped right by you without triggering your internal security system. Day after day, he’d visit your place of work after his own shift at the Pro Bono Association. He’d ask his questions and encourage you to ask your own, which led to a standing invitation to sit with him when there was a lull in traffic at the restaurant. Your shared interest in the legal system and his willingness to share a slice of that life with you compelled you to take him up on the offer. 

Next came the gifts. Little things, at first. Large tips, suggestions for weekend entertainment complete with a gift card or fully funded ticket, books to further your legal studies after work. It was strange, but the attention was divine. He wasn’t an ugly man, and you’d never felt noticed like this before. 

Eventually, he’d goaded you into joining him and his wife for dinner at their house. Mrs. Lannister was beautiful and cunning. On the surface, she was always polite, reassuring, more than willing to host you or have you join them in public, but there was an ominous undercurrent that you never could place. The way she looked at you when her husband turned his back was almost murderous, but you were so caught up in the idea of being wanted that you glossed over the tension between the two of you. 

You were lonely, sure, but you never wanted romance or…other things…from Lannister. To you, he was a mentor, an idol. Someone to live vicariously through while in a transition period in life. But after accepting all of his kindnesses, you’d unknowingly crossed a line. 

Before it all fell apart, it almost seemed like universal intervention. During a seemingly mundane conversation, Lannister clasped his hands over yours with a giddy expression. It seemed that there was an entry level position opening up at the PBA office in Queens and he thought you’d be perfect for it. Not only would it be a substantial pay raise from your current position, but there were opportunities for growth and he would be your boss. 

At the time, it felt like a miracle. Your ticket to the next stage of your life. And it was, but letting your guard down for that shark ended up being the biggest regret of your life. 

Transitioning into your new role wasn’t seamless, but you took it in stride. Your eagerness to take on complex projects and expand the mission of the organization impressed the more seasoned employees. Lannister began taking you to lunches, galas, drinks, anywhere that he could introduce you to his network of attorneys. It was thrilling to be thrown into the world you’d always dreamed of and received with such open arms. 

For a few months, it was pure bliss. Until the night you placed your first case. 

Placing the case itself was unproblematic, you were happy that you fit into the role so well—and you expressed such sentiments to Lannister who invited you over to his house to celebrate. Arriving with a bottle of your favorite wine, it was immediately clear that something had changed. The once cozy house was in absolute disarray, riddled with empty liquor bottles and boxes of feminine clothes. And, although Lannister had implied there would be others there, you found him alone. 

Lannister noticed your wandering eyes and explained that his wife had left him. He told you not to worry about that and to focus on your personal success. The two of you enjoyed some good food and cheap wine, the older man drifting closer by the glass. Eventually, you felt your eyes growing heavy and he insisted that you stay over given the late hour. 

That night, you dreamt of a large shadow, looking over you while you slept, warm touch dancing over your clothes. You tried to protect yourself, but your arms wouldn’t respond to the commands your brain sent. When you woke up, you found your skirt unzipped. 

It got blurry after that. Lannister’s very public divorce led to inopportune inebriation, massive hangovers in the office, lewd comments, and wandering hands. While you still accompanied him to events, he began claiming you in public in increasingly repulsive ways. Holding you by the waist, kissing your cheeks, stroking his fingers over your neck, using that disgusting pet name. My little Princess. 

You only tried expressing your discomfort once before it escalated. You’d approached him in his office after lunch, when he was likely to be more sober, and hesitantly asked if he would consider pulling back. You’d been met with the most terrifying display of anger you’d ever seen. You hazily recall books being thrown, hits landing along your arms and torso, insults being hurled at you. 

He had made you. You would be nothing without him. You were ungrateful and whoreish and conniving just like his wife. While the memories faded, the scars from your skin splitting over the hinges of his office door still shone in certain lights. 

After that his actions were deliberate. His lingering touches scalded you. Being alone with him meant sentencing yourself to torture. When he was angry, he’d call you into his office to “talk it through.” To your absolute horror, these talks often involved a locked door and drunk hands groping your trembling form. 

For weeks you endured his abrupt switches between calculated insults, physical abuse, emotional manipulation, and inappropriate contact. You were barely alive, going through the motions and slowly convincing yourself that you deserved it. You’d fallen out of contact with your friends, were so emotionally fragile that a stern look from a stranger could send you into a panic attack, and you found yourself so nauseous that the first few hours of each day were spent hugging a toilet. 

It was clear you needed help, but Lannister was your boss and his threats terrified you. He’d made it clear that if anyone found out about his behavior, it would cost you your livelihood. As an incredibly well-known attorney with an impeccable record, there was no way you’d win in court, he had too many friends on the force or the bench. Not to mention how new you were to the organization. Despite his growing alcoholism, your coworkers were as enamored with Lannister as you used to be, the chances of them believing you were minimal. 

So, you stayed, trapped in a nightmare of your own unintentional creation. Until a position opened up in Manhattan. 

Applying on a whim, you’d kept your application a secret, not expecting to even get an interview. But, apparently the managing attorney across the East River had heard your name through the grapevine because she reached out within the week to schedule a lunch with you. 

The heavy weight that hung over your shoulders like a shadow has lessened considerably in the days leading up to the lunch. The possibility of escaping the hell you were living in quickly appeared like the light at the end of the tunnel. 

Manhattan was beautiful and the employees of the PBA office in Midtown were ecstatic to meet you. It was the best day you’d had in months, until you got back to your own office. 

Realizing you’d forgotten an important file you needed for a clinic the next day, you walked briskly through the quiet building, hoping to get in and out without running into your supervisor. Unfortunately, the world was not that gracious. 

As you rummaged through your desk, the overhead lights turned on making you flinch. Your hands stilled over the file cabinet, your breath catching on your throat. 

“You little bitch.” Lannister was furious if the rage dripping from his tone was any indication. “Tell me, Princess, why did I receive a call from Midtown about how happy they were to have finally met my assistant?”

You couldn’t speak, your throat constricting as if wrapped with fabric. Frozen in place, you heard him approaching and you cowered. 

“Thought you could go behind my back? Leave me high and dry without a warning? You owe me, little princess. After all I’ve done for you…”

Whether from fear or something else entirely, your brain blocked out the rest of his actions that night. You came to shaking on the floor, bloody and partially undressed, but you weren’t alone. Lannister had disappeared, thankfully, but your coworker stepped into your office with a shaky inhale. 

Erica was a young attorney who’d started a few weeks before you. Your emotional state had made it difficult to grow close to anyone in the office, but she’d always seemed sweet. And, fortunately for you in the end, she’d heard the commotion your boss had caused before storming home. 

As your wonderful coworker helped you clean yourself up, you tearily confessed the secrets you’d worked so hard to hide. Disgusted, Erica had encouraged you to speak to HR and you’d submitted a complaint later that day with her assistance. 

You owed Erica a great debt. Over the period of the investigation, she’d become a fixture in your office, making sure to keep you at a distance from your abuser. Without your prompting, she’d offered the committee looking into the allegations her full testimony. You were quite certain that her statement is the reason Lannister was fired. 

In the weeks following his termination, you felt like a new woman. You’d moved to a cute little place in Hell’s Kitchen and begun your new work as a volunteer coordinator. While you still struggled with crowds of lawyers and the taste of alcohol, a good therapist and a decent amount of time had helped you heal a considerable amount. 

Enough to open yourself up for the possibility of a relationship, which you weren’t sure you’d ever want after everything you’d been through. Meeting Matt had changed that though, turning ‘never’ into a ‘not right now’. 

Sweet, considerate, adorable Matt who had brought you more comfort than you ever thought you deserved. Who was probably still furious with you for falling for him, but you couldn’t help but plead with the universe to send him anyway. Please, Matty, please come for me. 

As the muggy van rumbled over potholes and uneven roads, you pictured his beautiful face. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. How his brow furrowed with concern over the most minor harm that had befallen you. The beautiful way his lips melded with yours as a single kiss made you feel weightless. You regretted not kissing him one last time before ruining what you had. 

I’m sorry, darling. Please don’t let them take me from you. I’m not ready to let you go just yet. 

As Matt neared the 4th floor, a knawing pit of dread grew in his stomach. He could smell your tears, newer than those that had fallen after he’d left, but your heartbeat was nowhere to be found. Frantically pacing the hallway, he quickly noticed your suitcase abandoned a few feet from the door to your shared room. Crouching down, he tilted his head, evaluating the scene. The scent of your fear coated the floor, walls, and fabric of your bag. You must have been terrified for it to penetrate your surroundings to that degree. Underneath your pheromones, Matt shuddered with rage as the sickly saccharine fragrance of Beatrice Snyder’s reached his sensitive nose. Mingling with her perfume was a different smell, smoky and dark. 

You’d been cornered by Snyder and an unidentified man, he was sure of it. Fumbling to find the right end of his key card, he threw open the door and stripped out of his suit. Given that he’d intended to share the night with you, he’d intentionally left his body armor at home. A black long sleeve tee and scarf around his face would have to do tonight. 

Stepping back into the empty hallway, he fled to the stairs. While the scent of your fear only fueled his dark anger, it was strong enough to leave a trail down the stairs and out the back door into the cool night air. As inconspicuously as possible, Matt navigated through the building, dodging employees and guests successfully until he reached the loading dock behind the kitchen. Your scent stopped here, replaced by the smell of gasoline. 

No, no, no. Where are you, angel? What happened to you? 

Matt growled in frustration, spinning around desperately searching for any sign of you, he ripped his phone out of his pocket and pressed your speed dial, hoping that you could still reach your phone. 

Receiving nothing but your voicemail message in return, he felt his fists clench. “It’s going to be ok, my beautiful girl. I’m coming.” 

Replacing the phone in his pocket, he took off in the direction of the strong scent of auto fuel, praying to God that the most recent vehicle would lead him to you. 

The van jolted to an abrupt stop and you slid along the dirty carpet into a seat in front of you. Your back ached from the jostling you’d gotten on the ride to whatever destination you’d apparently arrived at, and you could feel the imprint of thousands of plastic carpet strands that had melded with the flesh on your cheek during the drive. The sound of car doors slamming and the heavy footfalls following made you strain against your binds one final time. 

A large, rough hand snatched your ankle, yanking you towards the night air at the tail end of the vehicle. Kicking your legs wildly, you flopped like a dying fish along the carpet as you were slowly pulled outside. The fingers at your ankle moved to wrap around your throat, forcing the airway to constrict. Struggling fiercely against your captor, you heard a familiar, rasping voice from behind you snarl, “Shut her up, you idiot!” 

Lannister’s goon pressed a sharp implement against the soft flesh of your stomach. “Keep movin’ and you’ll lose a lot more than your man, bitch.” 

As your squirming died down, reality set in and tears began flooding down your face. It was over. He’d won. All of the efforts that went into putting distance between the two of you were meaningless. He’d found you, and Snyder was going to take Matt from you because of it. 

You were roughly stood on your feet and forced to move in the trail of Lannister and his other goon. Eventually, you were forced into a cold metal chair, binds attached to the stiff bars of the furniture. Your blindfold was ripped off, though your gag remained. James Lannister’s ferocious grin appeared in your line of vision, making you flinch. “So glad we’ve been reunited, Princess. We’re gonna have some fun.” 

The group had taken you to what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. There were broken wooden palettes and scraps of steel scattered around the floor. Holes in the sheet metal walls allowed cold, winter air to blow crisp waves of wind through the space, raising the hairs on your neck. A gaping hole in the roof above you showers you in moonlight, illuminating a small s circle around you and Lannister. 

A knife glinted in your peripheral vision and you whimpered, squirming involuntarily. Lannister grabbed a fistful of your shirt, yanking you forward with a growl. “The more you squirm, the more damage I do, little princess. I’d hold still if I were you.” 

With that warning, he slashed a jagged cut in your top, nicking the skin along your collarbone. A hand ran over your hair, grasping the strands and tugging so that your face was turned towards your captor’s once again. “There’s my obedient little pet. Was wondering where she’d gone.” 

Bile rose in your throat as Lannister stroked his massive hands along your face, planting heated, bourbon-soaked kisses along your neck and down your chest. Prying away your torn clothes, he turned to face the goons. “Is it ready?” 

“Yes, sir.” One deep voice responded from the shadows of the warehouse beyond your visible surroundings. “Before I have my fun,” Lannister stepped aside, revealing a tall dark shape topped with a blinking red light. “I’d like to record a confession, dear. For my sanity, and for the board to know the truth.” 

Raising his barely slurred voice, he turned to the camera. 

“State your name, for the record.”

“Please don’t do this. I don’t—“ Your pleading morphed into a screech of pain as the point of the blade ripped a gash in the exposed skin of your shoulder. 

“Wrong answer, pet.” Lannister took a swig from a practically empty bottle of liquor that had seemingly materialized out of thin air. A trail of blood wormed its way to the cement floor, pooling at your feet. You stared at the river of red liquid for a moment before stammering out your name. 

“That’s a good pet. What’s your relation to me, my dear?” Chucking the now empty bottle aside, it shattered at your feet, spraying you with cheap alcohol and pieces of glass. 

“I worked with you. In Queens.” A smaller knife plunged into the meat of your thigh and you screamed in agony. The larger of the two goons shuffled into your wavering vision, smiling as he wiped your blood from his hands. 

“More specific, Princess.” Lannister spat at you. 

“You were my boss.” 

“That’s right. Now tell us, how did you get me fired?” 

You sobbed, “I didn’t, I wasn’t—“ Grasping the knife still planted in your leg, Lannister twisted it, grabbing your throat. 

“Yes you did, you miserable bitch. You ruined my fucking life. I lost my divorce settlement, my job, my house, my reputation. All because I took an ungrateful slut under my wing.” Ripping the blade from your body, he hurled you to the ground. 

“TELL THE TRUTH!” Lannister roared, sending a brutal kick into your chest and knocking the air from your lungs. “Tell them that you seduced me for months and then used me to land a promotion. TELL THEM THAT YOU TOOK MY ENTIRE LIFE FROM ME AFTER I’D GIVEN YOU EVERYTHING!”

Stomping over your body again, he stumbled backwards allowing you to cough out a response. “I—I took everything f-from you. I was un-ungrateful.” 

Lannister cackled, pulling you from the ground by your uninjured arm. “Turn the camera off. They won’t want to see this next part.” 

The goons stepped forward to follow your former boss’s orders, but a piercing sound from outside halted them in their tracks. A horrific shriek, the sound of metal grinding on metal, echoed through the warehouse. All three men froze, looking to each other as if expecting to find the cause of the noise at the hands of their fellow assholes. Dropping you hard onto your shoulder, Lannister turned towards the source of the creaking and your head lolled after him.

As the door to the warehouse slammed open, you cried in relief as your weak gaze made out the black clad figure against the night sky. Daredevil. Your devil. He came for you. Tears poured down your cheeks and your limbs tensed, Matt’s presence drawing you in like a magnet. 

Lannister huffs out a laugh. “The fuck do you want, shadow man? Don’t you have robberies to stop?” At his sides, the other men shuffled nervously, knives gripped firmly as they awaited their next command. 

Matt stalked forward into the warehouse, his body stiff as it held his rage back, visible tension like that of water building against a dam. Fists clenched, he prowled an arc around your three kidnappers. “Step the fuck away from her.” His deep timbre was pitched exceedingly low with pure fury and it sent ripples of goosebumps across your bare skin. 

Drawing the handgun from the back pocket of his slacks, Lannister stepped towards you once more. “Do your worst, Devil. She’s not leaving here alive.” The world slowed, as if the air around you was suddenly thick as molasses. Your eyes were processing as much as they could as dread settled in your stomach. The barrel of the gun moved across Lannister’s body and pointed at you as his meaty thumb cocked the weapon. 

Simultaneously, Matt’s athletic form rocketed forward, skillfully dodging the swings from both of your unnamed assailants and leaping at Lannister. A gunshot rang and you traced the bullet as it soared towards you. Suddenly, your vision went white as pain seared through your body following the pointed metal cylinder as it tore through your abdomen. Screaming in anguish, your ears rang with a high pitched tone, the flash of white across your sight fading to black. The only thing you could focus on was the burning agony as the puddle of your blood seeped into your torn clothes. Forcefully shutting your eyes, your inhales turned shallow, and you prayed to your beloved Matthew that he would get you out of here before you took your last breath. 

Matt’s skin was alight with rage as he maniacally tore through the three brutes to reach your collapsed form. The head captor’s words barely registered in his ears over the deafening sound of a gun being pulled. No. Do not let it be her, take me. The safety was undone as Matt ripped one man’s shoulder from its socket, using the falter in his steps to knock him unconscious. He needed to be faster. He had to reach you. Planting a hefty kick into the next guy’s stomach, he brought his billy club up to meet the force of the man’s own body weight bringing him down. A hollow thud of a body on cement meant there was one attacker left. And then came the gunshot. 

As the bullet escaped the barrel it was encased in, Matt roared, the devil inside him fully consuming his consciousness as tackled the shooter. Knuckles connected with a jawbone, then the softer cartilage of a nose, then the lumpy space of a rib cage. Matt poured every emotion he had into this criminal, each punch holding seeds of guilt and regret and desperation. 

The smell of your blood cascading over the dirty floor broke him from his trance. Dropping the battered body of your captor to the floor, he dove beside you, hands hovering over your body as he assessed the damage. 

Sobbing in relief, he cupped your face as gently as he could. “It’s ok, angel. You’re gonna be ok. They’re not gonna hurt you anymore. Just breathe with me, please sweetness, breathe.” 

Your shallow pants stuttered as your hand weakly grasped his shirt. “Ma-Matty?” 

“Yah sweetness, it’s me. I’m right here. Gonna get you out of here, ok? Just hold on.” Ripped a strip of fabric from his shirt, he pressed it over your largest wound, biting back a pained sound of his own when you hissed. “I know, I know, angel. I have to stop the bleeding.” 

The soft smell of salt melded with the metallic odor of your blood. You were crying, holding on to the fistful of his shirt like it was a lifeline. “Y-you came for me? I’m—I’m so-sorry” 

Stroking your face lightly before he dialed 911, he cooed. “Of course I came, lovely. I’ll always come for you. Always. Now you just focus on breathing. In and out, sweetness. Good girl, just like that.” 

At the operator’s greeting, he spit out a rough command for police and an ambulance, giving a brief description of the events that had happened. Next, he pleaded for their help. There was no way he alone could get you to a hospital in time. 

“They were holding her hostage. She’s been shot, stabbed too. Lost a lot of blood. She’s still alive but she needs medical attention, please hurry.” He spit out the approximate location, scrubbing tears from his face as he pocketed his phone. 

Pressing his forehead to yours delicately, he whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my sweet girl. It’s going to be ok. I’m so sorry.” Your hand raised shakily to cradle his nape. 

“Matty,” Your voice was weak, but determined. “I—I need you to know—“ 

“Hey, this isn’t one of those moments, sweet girl. You can tell me later, when you’re healing. You focus on—“ 

“No, please.” You begged, he fought back a choked cry so that you could say your piece. 

“I love you. S-so much.” You heaved a breath.  “I’m sorry that I ruined—“

“Shh, you didn’t ruin anything.” Matt chided gently, tears slipping faster after you'd confirmed his previous mistake. “I love you too, my wonderful, sweet girl. I won’t let them take you from me. I won’t.” 

“I’m sorry.” You choked out, and then you fell out of consciousness. 

Matt collapsed against your chest, clinging to the sound of your weak pulse as his body trembled with sobs. He planted soft kisses to your hair and cheeks, stroking lightly over your skin as he willed God to save you. 

The distant sound of sirens forced Matt to pry his face from your pummeled body. As the sound of vehicles approached, he made sure to alert the paramedics to your presence before taking back to the shadows. Hearing the clamor of attendants around you, he made a promise. “I’ll be there when you wake, angel. I’m sorry.”

Taglist: @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @scoliobean @harperdoodle @mattkinsella @leikelle @sweetbee0108 @dark-night-sky-99 @fallen-angels2213 @will-delete-this-later-probably @cheshirecat484 @thornbushrose @vernon-dursley

how i sleep knowing i will pirate every single thing released on disney plus