#...so I think he manly heard those words after his brothers died and /he/ became the captain

[jay-and-dean]

Don’t look down, Baby   Part 1/3

Dean x reader

Summary :  Dean told her to ignore the “thing” between them and to jump in any guy’s arms. Any of them but him.

When we think of a guy our Y/n could be with, longing for Dean, it’s usually a nice dude, a little boring, right ? Because who can compete with Dean ? Now, what if this guy was as badass as Dean ?

Characters : Dean Winchesters, Sam Winchester, Reader, Abraham Hale (OC)

Warnings : Angst, jealous Dean, Smut (unprotected sex -you’re smarter than this !-, oral, also kinda lame sex if it’s a warning), cheating, swearing, smoking, drinking... More warnings in the second part.

Wordcount : 6k (yes, just the part one... now you get why I cut it.)

Note : So for the Aestetic, I used the face of Jax Teller from Sons Of Anarchy, and you have to know, even if Abraham Hale looks like him, he is totally an OC.

This is writen both in Reader and Dean’s Pov. Dean’s thought are in italic. 

Text divider by the talented @talesmaniac89​

Jay’s Masterlist

September 16, 10:33pm

 Dean’s POV

           I always thought that when Y/n finds a guy, it would be the perfect douche I wanted for her. Some nice dude named Robert, a cop maybe, or a realtor with a friendly family.

           He would annoy me to death with his stories about growing up in a farm, and call her Pumpkin. He would worry a little when she goes out with us because he thinks we drink too much when we’re together.

           He would tear her from me and I would hate him for that. She would skip a hunt to meet his parents, another to spend a few days in the cabin he rented… But even if it breaks my heart, it would be exactly what I want for her, so I would let her go.

           I had it all planned.

           But, of course, she didn’t play by the rules.

           And that guy is no Robert…

           His loud manly laugh tears me from my thoughts. His tattooed hand wraps around his whiskey glass and I turn my head to that waitress that always gives me warm smiles, she’s staring at him now, with the sweetness that was once for me.

           Abe.

           Ex-gang member, Abe. Bad guy turned good. Raised by the widow of a gang member, in a violent environment, he already had a criminal record at fourteen, started selling guns before he was officially allowed to drink, ended up in prison at Twenty-two.

Sweet smile Abe. Reformed bad boy with an attitude. Became a hunter after he met a vampire gang and slew them to the last. Now defender of the good citizen, he found his fight, and the hunters talk about him as one of the bests.

Afraid of nothing and ready to fight, charismatic, alpha Abe. His muscular arm in the back of my girl, his long blond hair falling on his face when he lights up a cigarette in a grunt of content while she touches his neck.

Abe. My new nemesis.

“So Dean” he says with his deep voice hoarse from smoking too much. “How did you meet my girl ?”

I met her on a hunt, invited her to my room and took her on that wall. Do you remember, Y/n ? Don’t look down baby, look at me.

“On a hunt.”

“That’s how I met her too” he smiles and kisses her temple. “Seems like we have a lot in common.”

“Looks like we do” I state.

           Her eyes darken and she turns her head, I know how to read her, she is pissed, and I don’t even know why. I did nothing, I said nothing, and her rock-and-roll version of prince charming is worshiping her, so what causes that bitterness ?

What is it, baby ? Am I missing something ?

“So I heard your brother and you have this fucking palace ?” he gives me a corner smile, smoke coming out of his nose.

“Who told you that ?” I grunt.

What is the point of a secret bunker if it is as secret as a freaking tweet ?

           He chuckles and takes a sip of his whiskey, not answering.

           Abe never answers all the questions he is asked, maybe it is some cool thing for guys like him, maybe it is his way of look mysterious or powerful. What is sure is, as annoying as it is, it freaking works. But each time he smirks with his eyes lost in the bottom of his glass in a little huff instead of speaking, I get closer to losing it and smashing his pretty face on the table.

“I told him” she says almost coldly. “Like you did all your friends, Abe is my boyfriend, Dean.”

I nod. What can I say, she’s right after all. She’s always right…

           She was right about that cop being the bad guy the first time we hunted together, right about the fact that my so-called bond with Amara would fade the second she gets whatever she wanted. She was right about Jack being a good kid but dangerous enough to need to be watched and educated instead of pushed away. Right about Mary hurting me more than I admitted…

She was right when she said I was wrong. The day I told her we shouldn’t sleep together again, that she should just ignore that thing between us and jump in any guy’s arms. Any of them but me…

I really say that : any of them. I did.

Did you choose Abe just to annoy me, baby ? To prove a point ? You had to bring a guy who would beat me at my own grumpy-loner-badass-crap-drink-too-much game, right ?

“That place sounds sure awesome, because Y/n keeps coming back to it” he states, not letting me know the true meaning he puts in that sentence, his piercing blue eyes free of any emotions on the surface.

“Well it’s home for her” I say, and that bastard chuckles. “Is it funny ?”

“Not at all !” he says with a warm and kind laugh, and a friendly tap on my shoulder. “You should relax Dean, you look like the bar is full of demons !”

I stay stern, I know I should probably look friendly, but I rarely hated someone nice that much.

           He gets up and kisses her head before he walks away, his manly way to move catching women’s attention, and some men’s too. One of his hand goes through his blond hair while he walks to the bathroom with the other hand deep in his jeans’ pocket.

“So… Abe, huh ?” I ask, the second he’s gone.

           I should be more coherent, I know. I want her gone, but I want her for me. I was sure I was ready to see her with someone else, it’s been three years. Three years ! After we only made love six times. She is not mine, she never was.

And I thought calling her Baby in my head would make me strong. It’s a weird feeling, like I could let her be happy, but still feel special. I would have been the passion of her youth, the one that died young and of which she would think a little when she rocks her baby in her pretty house…

I had somehow romanticized my heartbreak.

But that doesn’t feel romantic at all. And all I can think of is that he is passion too, I’m not dead, and I just have to see him touch her and imagine them at night…

“Yes” she says, still with that bitterness in her voice. “You could make an effort, Dean. He has been nothing but nice, and you act like he’s an enemy.”

“I haven’t decided if he is one yet.”

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head in disapproval.

I recognize hurt. My Y/n, when she’s hurt, she gets angry. Always. And I made her angry so often. Her irritation is growing, I can see it in her burning eyes.

“You can’t do that” she says low. “You can’t treat him like that, no one gives you the right.”

“And him ?” I dare asking, staring at her reddened face. “Does he treat you right ?”

Her eyes fills with tears again and her jaw clenches.

“Better than you did, you mean ?” her words feel like a stab in my heart.

 Reader’s POV

           I didn’t want to say that, it came out by itself.

           I’m thin-skinned lately. I feel like I could cry or scream any moment, all the time. My emotions have always been loud, my sensibility overwhelming, but for a few weeks I’m drowning.

           The fact that I decided to try to get over Dean Winchester probably caused that.

A long time ago, I thought living with Dean without ever having him would be the worst, then I saw him with other women and was convinced I was mistaking before : the worst was definitely that. How wrong was I ?

           The worst is having had him. Not once, but several times, each time a little more intimate. More kisses, more touches, more suspended seconds watching in each other’s eyes… Until we spent that night together, that last night, and he fell asleep against me for the first time.

           It was over. It was too much for Dean, and not enough for me.

           Dean Winchester can’t belong to anyone, not again. He doesn’t want to be a boyfriend, and he doesn’t want me to be his girl ; who am I to insist ?

“Well, that’s a minimum” he answers in a soft groan after a little while, and my heart breaks because I just did what I swore I would never do : Reproach him for any of it.

“I’m sorry” I sigh, thinking of those weeks after the last night, when I had to hide the worst pain I ever felt because I didn’t want him to feel bad about not wanting me.

I still do... -feel that pain and try to hide- because Abe or not, I still live with Dean and he doesn’t deserve to carry my pain on top of the world on his shoulders.

“Can you at least try ?” I beg, low, seeing my boyfriend getting out of the restroom but stopping next to the door to talk to someone he obviously knows.

“Yes” Dean answers. “I’m just… He’s a hunter and…”

“He’s a good man” I assure him, looking at Abe walking toward us above Dean’s shoulder. “He comes from a dark place, like us, but he is a good man.”

 September 21, 08:12pm

 “That place is crazy !” Abe says, sitting at the table of the library. “I have never seen anything like this.”

           While Sam tells him a little more about the bunker, I look at my boyfriend.

           I stare at him, trying to get rid of that uncomfortable impression, that feeling screaming that he doesn’t belong here ; because if he doesn’t belong in the bunker, then he probably just has nothing to do in my life.

           A lot of memories cross my mind, like it happens a lot lately.

The memory of entering the bunker for the first time and deeply knowing that, as long as I am welcome here, this would be my home. Because it just feels right and because, even if I’m not the granddaughter of Henri Winchester, he trusted me with this place, as much as he trusted his family. That man actually welcomed me like Mary never really did, like I was just as legit as blood.

At his frank smile, the memory of meeting Abe crosses me too. I was alone in this hunter bar, trying to get information for a case. I hadn’t told Sam and Dean that I would go there, because I know how much uncomfortable the hunter community makes them. And I was introduced to him : Abraham Hale. I found him so beautiful, with his mischievous smile that seemed to mock the entire world, his wheat blond hair and his tattoos. Something felt so safe about him, not because he looked like a bad boy, but because he was light and happy, laughing at everything and taking nothing seriously… All that Dean wasn’t.

I loved his wild energy right away. Abe was like the drums in a rock song, like summer wind. In his arms, I forgot about Dean for a few seconds a day during the first weeks. We spent days sleeping and having sex behind the curtains of that motel room, hiding from summer heat, and nights drinking and listen to rock music...

But now I look at him, his bright blue eyes seem pale next to the deep green looking back, and his beauty is bland.

“Thank you for showing me your home, Treasure” he says, putting a tender hand on my back like he always does.

And my eyes cross Dean’s.

           I know what he’s thinking, he’s cringing at the nickname, and that reminds me why I am with Abe : Dean never gave me a nickname, he never called me anything else than my name, he will never and even when others do, he thinks it’s lame and cheesy.

 Dean’s POV

           That hurt on her face again.

Baby, you can’t look at me like that each time he calls you Treasure . I don’t like it, but you’re supposed to do.

           This is much harder than I thought, and I was aware it would be impossible.

           Each and every one of his actions makes me face my own contradictions : The more loving he is, the more I want to push him away from her. But the more she seems distant and to have her head in the clouds, the more it eases the pain. Am I selfish enough to hate her happiness even though I love her ?

           I was in control, during those three years not touching her, my heart was aching with craving and my soul was screaming at me to make her love me. But as much as the heartbreak was constant, I had chosen it. I was in control.

           I never realize that it was only bearable because she was still here, my partner, my best friend, my roommate. Mine.

           Now she took it back. She raised her middle finger right in my face and decided she wouldn’t be mine anymore.

And that is a whole new level of pain.

           I don’t sleep when she’s not home, and sometimes food just won’t let me eat it. She texts during our movie nights and wears that pendant he gave her. I hate that pendant because it reminds me I never gave her a present. Not once in all those years.

“Another drink ?” Y/n asks him with the bottle in her hand.

“Don’t you drive ?” I cut him before he answers and I see her eyes shoot me with imaginary bullets.

I’m sorry Baby but it’s movie night tonight, can’t he just leave already ?

“He’s right” she says giving me a little hope that she will ask him to leave soon. “You should stay for the night.”

My breathing gets stuck in my lungs.

No Baby, don’t do that to me. Please.

“With pleasure !” he smiles.

 September 21, 11:49pm

 Reader’s Pov

           He grabs my thigh to lift it a little and grunt in my ear. His kisses are hot on my neck, his heavy body moving cautiously on top of me.

           My eyes are on the ceiling, my hands on his sweaty muscular back and I wait.

           Damn, what is happening ? He’s close, I am going to fake it ? I swore I would never fake, I swore if the guy can’t get me there, he should know, but… Abe is not the problem, I am.

           I just watch the ceiling wondering what is wrong with me. He did everything right, nice foreplays and those love words he always has for me. But nothing seems to turn me on anymore, and without the need and the pleasure, his thrusts are just uncomfortable and I feel weird.

           Come already.

           I sigh. I know what is making this impossible. Dean. This fucker is the last I had in my own bed, the only one in fact. And everything reminds me that Abe is not Dean fucking Winchester !

“You okay Treasure ?” he pants in my ear, nibbling at it.

I’m not a freaking snack, what is it with his mouth and teeth always ?

“Yes” I fake a moan. “I’m close Abe, come.”

Just don’t be loud, that would be so awkward.

           When he loses rhythm, I close my eyes at the relief, it won’t be long now, make it stop. He shakes a little and grunt loud, filling the condom inside of me ; and, to make my fake moans credible, I clench my walls around him one time or two, rolling my eyes at his proud groan.

           Sex with Abe used to be so much more than this. I'm getting frustrated. Did I break something in me ? Why can't I enjoy anything anymore ?

           He rolls on my side, panting, and smiles tenderly at me. He’s beautiful, I have to admit that, and he’s nice and loving.

“You’re amazing” he hums. “I guess I can’t smoke in your bedroom ?”

“I don’t mind” I answer sincerely. “The air co is magical, just, don’t smoke more than one.”

           He sits on the bed to get his pants, his beautiful tattooed back on me. The smoke flies in pretty wreath. I put my hand on the lion tattooed on his back. It suits him, with his solar attitude and his confidence, his beautiful blond hair…

           Yet I keep longing for my wolf.

 Dean’s Pov

           Now I know I could kill him. And now I know what the limit amount of pain I can take is.

           I pace my room like a crazy man. He is taking her, my Baby. He is sinking inside of her and stealing pleasure. Does she wrap her legs around him like she always did with me ? To push me deeper. Is she as responsive ? As lost in pleasure as she was ? With that way only she has too beg for more with her entire body, voice strangled and arms caging me the best she can…

           Is she…

“F-fuck…” I whine, holding my heart.

I think I just felt it break.

Baby…

Breathing is painful now, I feel like I’m drowning.

Baby… Why did you have to do that to me ? I know I hurt you but your revenge is unbearable.

I sit on my bed, still holding my chest.

I can’t take it, you know.

“Shit” I grunt.

How can this kind of familiar panic attack be back ? How can this hurt so much ? It’s not Hell, it’s not Purgatory…

“It is Hell” I say out loud.

Loosing you, Baby. It’s Hell. Do you love him ? Because…

“Fuck, I love her” I whine.

 September 28, 06:05pm

             Sitting in my “Fortress of Deanitude”, I wait. The tray with snacks is there, beers too, and Netflix is ready for our next episode of Stanger Things.

           But there is a big chance she won’t come. Our movie nights are getting rarer and rarer, like our time together in general. And this place is slowly becoming a Fortress of Solitude…

           You never know how much you need something until you lost it, right ? I was stupid enough to think I could be stronger than the need for her and now look at me, alone in that big empty room in a bigger emptier bunker.

           All I can think of is how much each day pulls her closer to him and further from me. They are building memories in which I’m not, they are building an intimacy that I lost three years ago. She will forget me and he will have her, maybe even make her change a little, until one day she is among those people who talk about their personal tastes by saying “we”. “We prefer red wine”.

           Ew.

           Is he going to change my girl, for real ? Make her love Led Zeppelin a little less, make her a little less her, make her want other things, another life, need me less ? Our things will become unimportant and be replaced by all kind of other things I have no idea about.

           I take a long sip of my glass. It’s not like I had my word to say anyway. I lost her. I lost her in the worst way possible : willingly.

           But just when I’m about to get up and go put the snacks away, she opens the door, panting a little, like she had ran.

“Dean” she says entering the room. “I’m sorry. There was an accident on the road and the traffic was disturbed.”

You were at his place, Baby, and you ran to me ?

A little smile lights up my face when her presence revive my heart.

“It’s okay” I say.

“I’m late, but I have…” she takes her hand out of her purse. “Giant skittles !”

“You found them ?” I smile, sitting straighter when she hands me a bag.

Our things are not all gone. And she still cares about me and about our time together.

“Yup ! I made Abe stop in every shop yesterday.”

So you think of me when you’re with him, Baby ? Have you ever thought of me while he was inside of you ?

“Sit” I pat the armchair next to mine. “Let’s find out if Dusty’s girlfriend exists !”

“I really hope !” she exclaims, taking off her jacket.

I try not to look at her, but when she quickly takes off her jeans to slip in her pajamas pants, I swallow hard. Those thighs could have been for me, and I could have watched the show while holding her.

           She sits with her knees up against her chest in the big chair next to me, and takes a beer. My eyes are glued to her, looking for anything unusual, and fearing it more than anything in the same time.

“What ?” she calls me out of my thoughts.

“Nothing, I…” have no idea how to finish this sentence.

“I’m still okay you know ?” she says without looking at me, playing with the label of her beer bottle. “You always stare at me like something had happened to me. I know what you think of Abraham, but he doesn’t treat me bad.”

 Reader’s Pov

“I’m sorry” he sighs. “You know how protective I can get. Especially with you…”

A chuckle escapes me and I know he doesn’t like it, but protective with me ? He broke my heart. He ripped it and threw it on the floor because I had said those words.

“Yeah…” I nod, nibbling at my lip. “You won’t find bruises on me.”

He doesn’t answer.

           When did we become like this ?

           After a silence, he hands me candies and presses play. But, chewing on sugar and my eyes on the screen, I keep my full attention on him.

           I have everything any girl would want : A lover with hot blood, beauty and a heart of gold. But I'm not any girl, and the only thing I want is Dean Winchester. The genius who thinks he's dumb, the scared little boy who lost his mom, the leader, the victim of his fate, the killer, the loyal friend, the rebel, the torturer, the perfect brother, the wary hunter, the crappy dancer ; grumpy Dean, childish Dean, stubborn Dean, all of Dean...

           I look at him and my eyes travel down his neck, his beard is fighting to grow back there but I know he won't let it. The slow movements of his chest are mesmerizing. My eyes go down, to his thighs and crotch...

           I really shouldn't let myself look there but his smell and aura are like a mermaid song and I'm drowning. His strength is radiating of him and I feel myself respond to it in everyone of my heartbeats.

           He could make me scream. He always did, so easily. Dean made me cry of pleasure more than once, sometimes without any effort, the brushes of his fingers, the burning of his kisses... And when he finally buried himself inside of me, it was like a firework in Heaven. He never had to do anything really special...

           And now I wonder : Is something broken about me ? Abe is passionate and loving, we used to work great, he was easy as whiskey. And he loves me. Why am I unable to enjoy any of it lately ?

           My eyes trace the bump in Dean’s pants and I remember the simple ecstasy of feeling his cock twitch for me. Dean... I bite my lip to hold back the moan hanging on my tongue. His thigh moves a little, strong muscles hidden in his jeans, and I think of his stomach contracting that time he came on my tongue. I…

“I see you” his deep serious voice hits the air like thunder.

I look up to meet his eyes and realize I have been staring at his crotch, licking my lips and probably visibly holding back moans.

“Do you need something ?” he asks with a proud aura on his face.

I want to punch that expression off of his perfect features.

           I look down and sigh. Yes, I do. I need him, not only want like I would like to think, but need indeed. I need him to feel my body, to make it alive, and to hear my soul breathe again.

“Dean…” I just say.

Like it was an answer or reproach but of course, he hears it for what it is.

           A call.

           So he gets up, suddenly so tall that he eclipses the TV, the light and my will. He comes in front of me, standing there, making me look up timidly through my lashes. His strong hand lands cautiously on my cheek, gently holding my face while I lean on his touch.

           I can resist him. I can.

           I think of Abe's sweet smile, of his deep voice and his arms around me. I think of this night he told me about jail and I tried all I could to make him feel safe again, that was a beautiful moment... We are something beautiful Abe and me. We are going to make it right, to make it count. Right ?

           As my heart fights itself, playing all the love songs I know at once in my head in a deafening dim of emotions, my eyes fill with tears. I know what is going to happen, and the cruel god writing my story can stop there, the end is already obvious.

           I can't resist Dean. I just can't.

           And Abe will cry, right ? He trusts me. He will take his bag and yell maybe, the sun inside of him will get clouded, he will drive away. Then I will let my body slide on the door frame, unable to hold my weight up, because I will have broken the only man that ever truly loved me.

           I look down to hide the pain from Dean, but he knows me better.

"I can leave" he says.

But it's the last thing I want because I miss him, I miss him like a part of me died years ago and I still feel empty and cold... I miss him when I'm alone, and even more when I'm not.

           When he's about to move, take a step back to leave me alone, I grab his belt and hold him in place firmly. I have no plan, no solid thought, but I know I can't be away from him for now. He smells both like the most familiar home and the wildest dream.

           My other hand grazes the fabric of his jeans on his thigh, I close my eyes for a second and a little whimper escapes me. I started touching Dean less than a day after meeting him, and it seems I can't be around him without having my hands on his body.

           He hums, staring down at me, bow legs slightly parted like he needed balance, like he was gripping the floor for both of us. Dean had always been my anchor. His shoulders look wider from down here and I want nothing more than letting my hands grab his butt to rub my cheek on his crotch like a cat marking its territory.

"Touch me like you need it, Baby" he murmurs and a little sob escapes me unexpectedly.

He never ever called me Baby.

           He never gave me any nickname like he never gave me the place I thought I could take in his heart. And Abe, he calls me Treasure. He welcomed me in his heart...

"What's wrong ?" Dean asks like he didn't know.

Dean Winchester is the world's greatest hero, saved basically everyone's life without any reward, and for this he is a saint ; and still, he's the one that is going to be the end of me. Hero or not, he's my villain.

"Everything is wrong, Dean" I answer in a broken voice. "Everything."

He squats in front of me and my hand panics at losing my grip on his belt so it grasps his flannel like my life depends on it.

"Not everything" he whispers, bending to let his poisonous lips graze my skin.

My treacherous mouth opens in reflex at the proximity of his, making him respond by biting my lower lip. I whimper again and pull him closer.

"I got you" he states, letting his burning lips trace down my chin and my neck followed by his thumb, scratching my skin with his short nail. And I catch fire.

I let my head falls back and I surrender totally.

           That's how bad he is for me : I could let him break my heart again without an hesitation, after it took me years to recover just enough to just function. And oh, I will. I will shatter the heart of the man that trusts me just to let Dean selfishly remind me how much I love him.

           His breath is burning my skin, spreading in the fabric of my t-shirt when he buries his face on my chest, opening his mouth wide to pretend to bite my breast, hand cupping my sides like he had missed me for real. I let go of the plaid fabric to grip the short strand of his hair like I can.

"Dean..." the moan I have been holding comes out, filling the room with sin and the echo of future lies.

"I got you" he repeats.

His hungry hands seize my jeans and tear it open, fighting the metallic button's resistance brutally. The fabric hurts my lower back in a last resistance but is ripped off of me the second after, taking my panties in its way.

           And before I can sit straighter now that I'm on the edge of the chair, before I can talk, think or breath. Dean's anaconda arms grab my thighs firmly and his burning breath is on my folds.

"Wh-" I start but what can I say now.

He kisses my folds like no men ever did : like he was in love with that part of me. An open mouth kiss, tongue eagerly lapping my juice from my entrance to my clit.

"AH !" I scream, arching my back but Dean doesn't take a second to breathe, burying his face on me.

I squirm, licking my lips like I was kissing him back but the place he is devouring can only respond with throbs and getting soaked, which is does.

           I'm panting, I'm being eaten by the flames of that indescribable pleasure that is back. My stomach is shaking, my temples are beating so loud. I suck a breath when he sucks at my clit, moist hand gripping the leather of the chair.

"Dean" I moan again in the subdued light of the warm room.

He answers with a hum, and his nimble tongue pushes at my entrance, making my thighs shake violently in the vise grip of his arms.

           I can't escape what Dean does to me so I let go.

           My whole body falls backward when I come, harder than I have in years, holding his hair so tight it might hurt him, legs shaken by electricity, back arching and chest fighting itself to breath. My sensible clit seems to have nerves in my whole body and I fall silent, covered in sweat, suffocated by a forbidden crushing orgasm.

           I whimper desperately, limp and lost, panting in the chair like I didn't realize yet what just hit me. But Dean knows what he's doing, he knows where this goes.

           He opens his jeans, I can feel it even though I don't see him, my head still back, moaning at the caresses of his tongue on my neck. I bite my lip hard, hand moving from the arm of the chair to his, to feel his eagerness.

           And he grabs my thighs harshly, making me fall on the floor with him and holds my back when I can't, keeping me against him.

"So wrong..." I whisper in a dying echo of my disgrace.

His hand grasps my face firmly and makes me look at him. His eyes have this fire in them, he clenches his jaw when I roll my lips a little, wetting his craved cock on me, dying of being finally filled by him.

"Keep your eyes on me" he groans, grabbing his length to guide it at my throbbing entrance.

"Dean..." I moan, fingers reaching his stomach under his clothes to feel it tremble.

"Eyes on me baby" he repeats low.

 Dean's Pov

           She can't think of him. Not now. I need her with me, I need her for me.

Feel me, baby.

           I smile slightly when she dives her unfocused pupils in my eyes. She's perfect and I love her ; but I must say when she seems to surrender so completely to my touch, that's when forgot why I asked her to stay away.

           When I enter her, her phone lights up once again in her back, on the floor. I groan loud as she wraps me like only she can, like she was trying to suck me inside her core. She's shaking, she's fighting to keep her eyes on me and I'm fighting that urge to grab her phone and shatter it in a million pieces against the wall.

           She gasps, her body threatening to fall back so I hold her.

That's it baby, stay with me, feel me, let me take you like I used to when you were mine.

My hand fists her hair and my mouth gets attracted to her pulse point so I bend to suck at it, barely thrusting for now, just enjoying to be inside of her, feeling her pulsating with desire, the concrete hard floor digging in my knees.

           Her arms wrap around me, she cling to me and I try to ignore my jealousy shouting at me.

Baby, you try to ignore me but can he do that to you ? Can he turn you into a purring cat like that ?

"Dean" she moans, clenching around me, her thighs trying to get herself even closer so she takes me impossibly deeper.

"Say you want me" I murmur against her skin in a voice I barely recognize.

"I want you" she gives in, exhaling in my ear.

           Behind her, her phone lights up one more time with a text : "I found us a case in California, Treasure."

=> PART 2

FEEDBACK IS GOLD

Tags : @parinarain @mogaruke @masterof-agony @rainflowermoon @tftumblin @deans-baby-momma @roonyxx @thefaithfulwriter @vicariouslythruspn @emeow1496 @daryldixonandfrogs @holylulusworld  @cocklesbelli @sandlee44 @screenchingartisancashbailiff @donnaintx @stormchasingchick32 @akshi8278 @magssteenkamp @sister-winchesters99 @neii3n  @lyss-dw79 @im-a-shrub @sadwaywardkid​@hopelesslydevotedtoyou1912 @slyqueenj​ @i-love-superhero​ @waywardsisterandpie @sunsetsandbooks​ @mrspeacem1nusone​ @stylesismyhubs​ @deanwanddamons​ @jawritter​ @peridottea91​ @chelsea072498 @chocolateheart​ @vicmc624​ @teresa-67​ @jessie-michael​ @doctor-hp-mcu​ @hawkerz12​ @mariaenchanted​ @hobby27​

[mythiccheroacademia]

Single-Parent!Headcanons

Characters: Kirishima Eijirou, Kaminari Denki, and Bakugo Katsuki

A/N: Inspired by y’all. Enjoy <3

Warnings: fluff overload? one tiny curse word

Kirishima Eijirou:

the day his son was born was both the worst and best day of his life

his wife died upon delivery and he almost fainted when he heard the news, bakugo caught him before he could hit the floor

it took him 24 hours before he could gather the courage to go to the nursery and see his baby. he thought he wouldn’t be able to stomach the reminder of losing the love of his life

but when he held the small boy, who instantly nuzzled into his father’s chest, sighing with relief, kirishima was hooked for life

he just continued to hold his son into his chest and cry until he couldn’t anymore

from that day on, he swore he’d be the best parent he could be for his wife and his child’s sake

bc kiri is such a youthful and loving person, taking care of his son was easy, fun, and rewarding

ofc there were hard days, but it was all worth it when his baby would wake up with an adorable laugh, smiling up at him like he was his entire world

they’re two peas in a pod

he and his son are just the cutest pair

he takes his son everywhere, strapping him on his chest with a baby carrier

you bet your ass he’s taken him on (a safe) patrol around the block

kirishima is the kind of dad that puts his kid in a laundry basket, sits them in front of the tv, and acts out rollercoaster sounds

he lives for that loud laugh of his son’s

blows raspberries into the kid’s stomach whenever he starts getting cranky

his son’s first word was “manly” and kirishima spent the entire day bothering the bakusquad about it

everyone has 12 different copies of the video—y’know...just in case

when he takes his first steps, kiri’s swinging him around the house and giving him so many kisses on his chubby cheeks

when he saw his son had one spiky tooth growing in, he almost drowned from the cuteness

the kid gets himself into a lot of trouble tho. he’s always crawling towards the edge of something and putting his hand in things that could totally cut it off. kiri has a heart attack at least once a week

calls him, “son” “bud” and “buddy”

I hc that even though he’s lively around his dad, his son is very shy with new people and in new environments so school is kind of tough for him

but kirishima is always understanding of his troubles and tries his best to let him know that as long as he’s his son, he’ll always be his biggest supporter

if that doesn’t work, they go buy their fav meats and have a random bbq (kirishima just looks like the bbq dad™️ lmao). that always seems to do the trick

when his son enrolls in U.A., he’s there with a banner, his fav meat, and a bunch of tears when he sends him off

his son wears their matching crocs only to cheer up his dad. nothing else

aka he lowkey likes them but you didn’t hear that from me!

kirishima always has the urge to ft his kid, like, every hour. but he won’t bc he knows he’s busy training to be a hero

but he does send him uplifting snapchat videos from time to time

his son still wonders how in the world his dad even knows about snapchat

he makes sure nobody knows about this

when his son calls him about his insecurities, comparing himself to his classmates, kirishima is right there to lift him up. he also dealed with those same issues and tells his son that even on his worst days, he’s strong for just facing the day and he needs to believe in himself before others can believe in him

the next day, the bakusquad is watching the tournament together

kirishima has manly tears in his eyes as his little boy places second place in the sports festival

bakugo is threatening to kill him if he ruins his shirt

Kaminari Denki:

denki becomes a dad from adopting a pair of four year old twins (one boy, one girl) that were left homeless and without parents after a villain attack

he kinda knew the parents from hero work and felt it was an obligation to at least make sure their children were okay

he wasn’t planning on necessarily adopting them. he was young and inexperienced with children. how could someone like him raise a kid when he could barely raise himself?

but after two visits to the orphanage and seeing how miserable they looked, he couldn’t leave the building without signing the papers

the transition was awkward. the twins were not only traumatized, but distrusting and scared. they didn’t really know kaminari and now he was suddenly their adoptive parent

kaminari tried everything from ice cream, to late night movie snacks, to hide n seek to get them to relax but it wouldn’t work

he almost gave up hope, and thought maybe it was a better idea to take them back to the orphanage. but that was before the night he woke up to them crawling into his bed, scared from the thunder storm that rumbled on outside

kaminari froze, scared that he’d frighten them away with any sudden movement, but he soon relaxed and hugged them close to his chest when they snuggled into his sides. he sleeps with a peaceful mind that night

although, he’s awoken to them bawling their eyes out over the nightmares they had. he panics but takes comfort in how they still grip to his shirt, face in his chest, seeking his comfort

therapy becomes a regular thing after that

kaminari finds more focus in his life

and as those helpful sessions go on, kaminari finds the twins beginning to open up more and more

they all sleep together now bc cuddle piles always scare the bad dreams away

the boy starts asking for kaminari to help him pick out his outfits

and the girl starts asking him about his quirk

it’s small things like that that lead up to things like this:

they’re in the midst of playing tickle monster when they scream with laughter, “stop! stop, daddy, you caught us!”

the twins stare at him in confusion (and slight worry) when he scoops them up and cries like he broke his leg or something

they got two huge scoops of ice cream that night so they don’t question it

dad jokes are a must

he wears typical dad outfits like hawaiian shirts, cargo shorts, and flip flops

he calls them his “little rockstars” and yes, it’s still embarrassing

kaminari is a playful dad who doesn’t really take things too seriously

his children are always laughing at his dumb jokes and are never afraid to talk to him about anything that crosses their minds

although, they won’t talk to him about love interests bc he likes to play match maker

the last time his daughter told him about some girl she was crushing on, she found out she left her a personally signed chargebolt poster for the girl in her name

kaminari called it a little boost in spirit

her brother found it funny

she was horrified

kaminari swears up and down he’s the cool dad. his kids think otherwise, but their friends LOVE how much of a jokester he is. and he lets them stay up at sleepovers

plus, he’s literally chargebolt

how could they not love him?

denki has a little trouble being serious when he needs to be, but he has good kids so it’s not that much of a problem

there was that one time his son tried to help him during a villain attack. even though kaminari ordered him to get to safety, he didn’t and ended up getting hurt

the twins had never seen their father so angry. it was kind of scary. however, in the next moment, he gathered them up in a big hug and made them swear not to scare him like that again

overall, kaminari is the sweet, fun loving, dad that everyone wishes they had

Bakugo Katsuki:

katsuki became a father the day he found a baby and a note at his doorstep

the note read: “surprise! you’re a dad. i gave you all the legal rights, but you can place her up for adoption if you want.”

least to say, bakugo was pissed

he was even more pissed at himself for getting someone so cold and unloving pregnant

however, he decides to put the baby up for adoption. he cant take care of a baby! he’s at the height of his career. he can basically taste the number one hero spot on his tongue

he’s dead set w the decision, but as he stands outside of the orphanage, he freezes. he just can’t move

bakugo looks down at his daughter as she opens her eyes for the first time. he sees an identical pair of red eyes that make his chest tight with a feeling he hasn’t experienced in a long time

he turns back around and heads back home. it’s easily the best decision he’s ever made in his life

ngl though, growing into the dad role for bakugo was tough

before the girl, he only ever had to think of himself. he was still used to doing everything on his own time and for his own benefit. so being forced to put 100% of his attention to a small helpless human being was not easy

katsuki admits that the first couple of years weren’t his proudest. he was still short tempered, angry with the world, and frustrated bc he felt like his life was ruined

one time, the frustration and sleep deprivation would hit him all at once and he’d just start going off at the baby to just “shut the hell up!” before breaking down and crying with her

it was a dark moment for him, and yet, even after that, his little girl still curled up in his arms to rest when the tears tired her out

it had been a while since he felt unconditional love like that, and so he decided to change for the baby’s sake

you cant tell me that little girl isn’t spoiled rotten

bakugo is a hardass, but he’s all bark no bite. no matter what, he just can’t resist his little girl’s puppy dog eyes

he’s a girl dad to the t

yes he played the princess that needed saving from the big bad dragon. what about it?

his daughter is a firecracker. she started sassing him as soon as she could gargle

he pretends he hates it but his daughter is lowkey funny asl

they go at it when they fight. bakugo’s learned to be a little more patient, but he still has a bit of a temper and it doesn’t mix well when his mini-me has the same explosive anger

is the kind of dad that says sorry by asking her what she wants for dinner

they totally talk mess about other heroes together. he ignores the fact that she admires deku as long as she keeps it to herself

emotional talks are...awkward, but he forces himself through it

she finds it embarrassing (yet oddly endearing) that he got kicked out of a PTA club meeting for threatening to light up some mom for saying the art program didn’t matter

his daughter absolutely won’t talk to him about potential love interests unless she wants them coming up missing

bakugo won’t admit to watching baby videos of his daughter when he sends her off to U.A. and no, he didn’t cry, he got dust in his eye

doesn’t bother her too much, but jumps for his phone when he hears her ringtone

kirishima says he getting soft, but that’s just his little princess

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hii!! I saw that your requests are open again so I hope u don't mind cosidering mine!! Maybe some Hcs of the THH bois being sad and their s/o comforts them and when they think they're asleep, they sing them a lullaby? the idea makes me very soft 👉👈🥺

Oop this idea makes me v soft, too ;w;

..........

Taka

You knew how emotional Taka tends to get, even over simple things like you reminding him that you appreciated him in your life.

Though one day, you find him laying on the bed, crying into a pillow.

The fact he neglected to greet you when you came home was especially concerning, since he always did that.

So you lay down beside him and hug him closely, asking what’s wrong.

He just buries his head into your chest and sobs about a quiz he failed, believing his life was ruined because of it.

Anyone else would’ve probably laughed at him for bawling his eyes out over something that insignificant.

But you never do. 

You understand he takes a lot of pride in success...and that he could be harsh on himself for little mistakes.

Instead you hold him tighter and reassure him that one bad grade doesn’t mean his future is in shambles.

Eventually he calms down, thanking you for those words he often needed to hear.

Before seemingly passing out from the exhaustion of crying.

You pet his black hair for a bit, and then quietly sing a short lullaby.

In response, his arms hug you tighter.

Mondo

Usually, he’s scary when he’s upset. 

But around you, however, he looks like a kicked puppy.

This especially becomes true when he comes home after an argument with his gang.

He takes a shower and comes back out to greet you, his infamous pompadour now shoulder-length brown hair.

Now he looks like a wet kicked puppy.

If you ask him what’s wrong, he’ll just say it was another stupid fight with his gang, who still doubt his capabilities as a leader.

You knew he was trying his best to keep them in one piece--fulfilling his late brother’s dying wish.

So you understood he could take those insults to heart.

He doesn’t wanna go into much detail, knowing he’ll just get angrier (and probably break the coffee table for the third time this week).

You just pat your lap, inviting him to lay his head down there for a while.

He obliges and just closes his eyes as you run your fingers through his hair.

It soothes him to sleep real fast.

And you hum a small song to help ease his mind and forget his frustrations.

Leon

It’s quite easy to tell when he’s sad, even if he doesn’t say anything directly to you.

Oftentimes, it’s when you enter the bedroom or living room and see him curled up with a pillow, eyes moist and red.

The moment he sees you, though, the pillow’s on the ground and he opens his arms up.

It’s like he’s saying “hold me right now or I will die”.

So you oblige and let him cuddle with you like a teddy bear, already feeling better now that you’re here.

He’ll talk about what’s bothering him if you ask.

Usually it’s either growing pressures of baseball practice or his own insecurities eating away at him.

Though sometimes he just says he wants to sleep the day away.

You’re fine with that, and you help him relax by singing a bit of a lullaby.

All he can pay attention to is your calming voice as he dozes off.

After the nap, he feels a lot better.

Hifumi

It’s typical for him to come crying to you about being bullied again.

Though when he asks if you truly loved him...that becomes a shock to you.

Of course you did! What idiot would try to tell him you didn’t?

You swear this is the last time anyone would mess with your big and lovable fanfic writer.

Usually the perfect solution is to sit down on the couch with his head in your lap, while you brush away his tears and list all of the things you loved about him.

No really. You have an actual list you keep in case someone has the nerve to ask you what you see in him.

He might get choked up all over again as he realizes he shouldn’t listen to those idiots.

At some point, he does fall asleep, and you catch yourself humming the tune of some anime song you recently heard.

Funny enough--he sometimes mumbles the lyrics in his sleep.

Yasuhiro

You find him sitting alone in his room, looking sad as he stares down at a crystal ball in his hands.

At first you scared him when you rush over to ask him what’s wrong (fortunately you save him another million yen by catching the ball before it hit the floor).

But once he calms down, he just says he feels like a “useless idiot” during trials sometimes.

He wonders why Monokuma insists everyone participates if he can’t contribute anything good.

What breaks your heart most is when he asks if you think he’s an idiot.

You just take his hands and reassure him he’s far from that.

You remind him that he did bring up some important topics that helped piece the crimes together.

So he’s not useless at all.

He feels much better after those reassurances, though also tired since he was doing a lot of thinking.

So you two just cuddle, and when you think he’s fully out, you quietly sing a random song.

Though he mumbles a “wow you sing rly good” before dozing off.

Makoto

Sometimes the guilt of class trials weighs heavily on him.

Especially when he leaves knowing he basically sent someone to their death.

Even though he knows he has to if everyone else wants to survive.

But that doesn’t stop the nightmares he has of the victims and blackeneds taunting him, blaming him for their deaths instead of Monokuma.

Fortunately, you sleep with him on those nights.

And when he wakes up suddenly, you’re quick to bring him into your arms.

Though if you’re a heavy sleeper, expect to be shaken awake by a teary-eyed Makoto who was scared you died.

When you’re awake, you comfort him by resting your chin on top of his head, while he listens to your heartbeat.

A reminder that you’re still alive.

And you end up singing a short lullaby once he falls back to sleep, ensuring he stayed asleep knowing you were safe.

Chihiro

Knowing Chihiro, it was easy for him to get upset over many things.

But all day long, he’s kept things bottled up, afraid you’d see him as “less manly”.

Though it all backfires horribly when he’s working on a program that keeps having pop-up errors and other glitches.

It’s just one after another and he can’t fix them all.

He feels like he’s faltering in his talent--the one thing he was confident in.

How could he be an “Ultimate Programmer” if he couldn’t fix simple errors?

Sometime later, you find him crying at his desk. You can easily tell your poor bf is overwhelmed again.

So you carry him away from his computer and to the bed, where you both cuddle.

He ends up breaking down into tears again, spilling his heart out to you--the guilt of ignoring you, the frustrations with the program, everything.

And you hold him and listen, letting him talk before you give him your own reassurances/advice.

Eventually, he passes out from exhaustion, and you take the opportunity to sing something to help him calm down more.

Byakuya

There’s not much of a sensitive side to him. He learned to toughed up in the face of many hardships--all to rightfully earn his position in the family.

But not even the heir himself was immune to the stress, suffering, and doubt--especially when he was all alone.

And when you saw that mask crack for the first time..it was a shock.

You came home earlier than expected one day, and you saw the prodigy pacing around the living room, trying to dry both his glasses and eyes while taking shaky breaths.

“You’re better than this...stronger than this..y-you’re..gonna be head of your family...”

The crack in his voice prompts you to intervene.

Of course, he tries playing it off as nothing, though you take him to the couch anyway and hold his hands.

You don’t say or do anything; you just let him calm down by himself, with your presence being more than enough.

Once he does, you convince him to rest for a bit. He just scoffs and says he already planned to.

You hum a song when he finally dozes off.

Your voice is actually soothing to listen to, though he’s not gonna outright say it.

But you know it from his small smile.

Kiyondo

Despite his brash attitude and tendency to mimic Mondo..you knew that deep down, your beloved Taka was in there--still heartbroken and grieving.

It became more apparent when you found him crying in the bathhouse (around the same time he was when he first went there with Mondo).

He shut himself into the sauna, but with luck you managed to convince him to leave and go to your dorm.

At first he aggressively cuddles with you, though as you brush away the hot tears that streaked down his face, his voice becomes less rough and more...soft.

Like his old self.

He admits he’s scared you’ll be taken away from him, too.

But you just hold him, promising him you will be okay...and you’ll help him through this, no matter what it takes.

It’s hard convincing him to sleep, but when he finally does, you just stay awake for a bit longer, petting his hair and singing a short lullaby.

By the morning, he’s back to normal--still gaunt and depressed.

Yet he seems more hopeful, as he remembers you’re still with him.

[expertofpossession]

Your imaginary friends come back to haunt you - REPOST

*I don’t own any of it* Can be request to be removed.

Josh parked his car, stepped out and looked at the house before him. “I’m home again” he said. It had been a while since 25 year old Josh had visited his old home after going to college. He hadn’t seen his dad or his two brothers in all this time but now it was summer break and Josh was all too keen to take the time to travel back to his old stomping grounds. He rang the doorbell and a moment later the door was opened by Josh’s dad Marcus; a rather muscular and beefy gentleman with a buzzcut.

“Joshua! How are you? Come in, come in. Your brothers are just in the den.” Marcus’ excitement was infectious. “Thanks dad. I’m great and it’s good to see you! Can’t wait to see Danny and Travis” Josh replied. “Go on ahead. I’ll bring your bag in for you.” Marcus said cheerfully. The house was just as Josh remembered it; rustic, wooden but charming and cozy, and Josh easily found his way to the den as if he’d never left. Once there he was greeted by his brothers playing video games. There was Danny, the middle brother, sitting down in a tight red tank showing off his guns and his pecs that were nicely emphasised. “Yo little Joshy back from college! Check it out Travis. Josh’s arrived!”

Travis sat up from lying on a mattress. Travis was the oldest and most manly looking brother. He was shirtless, exposing his hairy chest and beefy arms. On his lower body, he was wearing sweatpants which hid his tight butt but revealed a thick dick hiding beneath, something that Josh couldn’t help but notice. “Well hey little bro. How’re you doing!?” said Travis as he wrapped his arm around Josh and gave him a friendly noogie. “Great to see you again bro!” Josh said as he took himself out from under Travis’s sweaty arm. Marcus then appeared in the doorway. “Alright you rowdy kids, settle down. We’re just gonna have lunch in a while so feel free to freshen up in your old room and set your stuff out” “Will do dad” and with that, Josh headed upstairs into his old room. Once there, Josh stepped into his bathroom, stripped his clothes and started up the shower. Now Josh was left alone with his thoughts…which wasn’t great. Now that Josh was here, he felt a bit depressed. The reason Josh had been so eager to see his father and brothers again was…because he kind of had a thing for them. For a young gay man like himself, his family were the epitome of manliness and studliness that Josh had only dreamed of. But he knew he could never have his dream. Josh finished cleaning his bod and stepped out of the shower with a sigh. Well there wasn’t much to do but just try to enjoy being with family, he thought. He took his personal can of deodorant, gave his underarms a good spray then slipped on some shorts and a tanktop. He wasn’t as buff as any of him family members but for a young boy, Josh was a pretty handsome, fit and clean dude, and hey, if he couldn’t enjoy his family members bods, at least he could enjoy his own. “Niiice” he purred to his reflection. “Thank you” came a cackling reply from out of nowhere. Josh could see a thin ghost’s face pop through his own, laughing as it’s hands reached around and jiggled Josh’s pecs through his top. Startled, Josh backed away, out into his bedroom and fell back onto his bed. He could only stare as a trio of ghosts followed and hovered over him. “Well well well, look at our Josh now. Not such a little fleshie anymore. He’s gotten bigger now.” said the tallest and thinnest ghost. “Bigger and prettier too. Looks like he might even be able to fit me now, and then I’d be the pretty boy hehehe” bellowed the fattest ghost, jiggling as he laughed. “He could do without the sickly sweet smell though. What happened to the kid that liked rolling around in the mud?” whined the last ghost who was the smelliest. “Wh-who are you!?” cried Josh, afraid of what these…things might do to him. “Whaaaat? You don’t remember us. That hurts Joshy-boy” said the thin ghost. “Yeah, don’t you remember all the great meals we had fleshie?” moaned the fat ghost. “Or all those times in the mud. Remember the mud?” the stinky ghost chimed in. “What are you talking about!? How do you know my name? Who are you?” Josh was so confused. “Let us reintroduce ourselves. We’re the Ghostly Trio. Stretch, Stinky and Fatso” said the thin ghost as he and the others posed together. Suddenly, the names and poses triggered something deep within Josh. Memories bubbled to the surface. Memories of a little boy playing with his trio of imaginary friends, eating cake together, trekking through the rain and getting dirty together. These were them. They were Josh’s imaginary friends. “But…you couldn’t be…you’re not real.” We’re real as the skin on your bones fleshie. Believe it or not” said Stretch. Josh shaked, “ No…n-no you’re not. You’re not real. I made you up” “Don’t be like that. We had such a good time being your friends Josh. Sorry we had to up and leave ya one day but we promise we are real. Honest” pleaded Fatso with a puppy dog eyes. Still Josh sat still in shock and panic. “…Go away.” he said. “Come on Josh” said Stretch softly. Josh yelled, “GO AWAY!” The Ghostly Trio backed off. “I need to think…Leave me alone.” Josh retreated back into his bathroom and closed the door. Left alone, the trio sadly floated down the stairs. “Man, after all this time, he finally comes home. I thought he’d be happy to see us. I know we are.” said Stretch. “Yeah, now that he’s older, we could’ve gone to a buffet or somethin’ like that.” Fatso said sadly. Stinky piped up. “Well it has been forever and he ‘is’ older. What can we do to make him like us again?” Stretch’s expression brightened when he heard Stinky’s words. “You know somethin’? You’re absolutely right. Joshy-boy is older now. And that means we can have some ‘adult’ fun right boys?” Fatso and Stinky looked confused but they caught on quick. “Hehehehe. I’m ready for this.” chuckled Fatso. “You know boys, we never met Josh’s family. Let’s introduce ourselves properly…shall we? Back down in the kitchen, Marcus was dishing up a salad as Danny and Travis set the table. “Hey Danny, mind finishing this bowl up? I’m just going to the outside fridge to get some meat” called Marcus. “Sure thing pops.” Danny said back. Marcus left out the back door as Danny and Travis made their way into the kitchen but something was wrong. “Geez, no offense old man but are you sure this is fresh fruit? Smells like something died in here” muttered Danny to himself. “Maybe it’s your B.O bro? Haven’t been cleaning up after hitting your gains huh?” Travis said grinning. “Whatever man. You’re the one that sweats buckets from your armpits every time we do chest and arms.” fired back Danny. “You’re right though. I’ll see if there’s any more fruit in the fridge.” said Travis as he went over and opened the fridge. Danny leant over and smelled the salad bowl. “Damn, it really does smell rotten” “Sorry bout that but thanks for noticin’” came Stinky’s voice from behind him. Before Danny had any time to even let out a gasp, let alone turn around, he felt something rubbery penetrate his butt through his shorts.

He felt Stinky dive through his tight bum and move into his bod, filling and expanding inside him. Danny jerked around and spasmed as he felt himself lose control of his body to this thing inside him. Stinky moved up through Danny’s tight abs, up into his pecs then filled out his big hunky arms like he was slipping on a suit. Danny his arms swing down and as they did, his leg muscles burst and jiggled as Stinky filled them in. The sensation immediately made him pop a boner which was swiftly filled by Stinky’s ectoplasm. All that was left was for Stinky to fill Danny’s wildly swinging head and once that was done, a boom came from Danny’s stomach and he was in Stinky’s control. “Mmmmmmm yeeeeeaaaaah” he said as he felt his muscles and rubbed his hands underneath his tanktop. Finally Travis turned around with a bag of fruit in hand to see Danny feeling himself. “Bro, what the hell are you doing?” At that moment, Stretch burst out of the bag. “Don’t worry about him. Worry about yourself bonebag.” he cackled. Travis dropped the bag, stunned as Stretch flew around him, circling him around his head, down around his torso until he got to his waist, where he dived into his underwear and started to pump into Travis’s dick.

 Travis groaned as he felt his dick expand and grow. It was such a erotic and pleasurable moment. Soon Stretch had sucked his tail into Travis’s body and began filling him up. Travis’s voice became muffled as his mouth filled with ectoplasm.  “MMMMMMFFFFFF” moaned Travis as he felt Stretch get big and hard inside his muscular bod. He felt his pecs expand with ectoplasm and his legs and arms shot out as Stretch filled them up. Travis tried to remain in control but his body just spun and shook wildly as Stretch took him over. With another boom, Travis was no longer in control. His face wore Stretch’s signature smirk. “Yeaaaahh. Check out this hunky fleshie.” Stretch moved over and smacked Stinky’s sexy butt. “Turn around so I can get a good look at ya.” Stinky smiled and turned.

He then pulled Stretch in and kissed him passionately. “Mmmmm, soooo sweaty and big. Just the way I like em.” Stinky said. Stretch pulled off Stinky’s tanktop and stuck his hands down Stinky’s shorts rubbing and pulling his dick while Stinky rubbed Stretch’s buff, hairy chest. At that moment, Marcus walked back in carrying a large roast chicken and saw his two boys making out. “What the hell is going on here!!?” And then the chicken was lifted out of his hands as Fatso appeared. “What’s going on is that you’ve bought a snack” He said as he devoured the chicken whole. “And now to move on the main course. Heheheheh” Marcus started to scream and Fatso took that oppourtunity to dive his fat form into his gaping mouth.  “MMMMFFFGMMMFF” Fatso bounced and jiggled as he tried to pump himself into Marcus’s body as Marcus could only groan and try to push him back. It was useless as Fatso sucked in his gut and slid down Marcus’s throat creating a large bulge as he went. Booming all through Marcus’s jiggling and bouncing body, it didn’t take long for Fatso to possess him and soon Marcus’s buff bod was all Fatso’s.

 “Now come on guys, let me join in the fun.” And as Fatso took off his clothes, he started to make out with his fellow fleshies. Meanwhile, Josh was coming downstairs having heard the commotion. He just now saw the incredible sight of his family, naked, jacking each other off and making out. 

[captain-emmajones]

Love, Emma (1/7)

(Art by the wonderful @carpedzem​ <3) 

Loosely based on Love, Rosie (2014). 

Killian and Emma are best friends and neighbors. They've always been -- until he leaves for the Navy when his brother dies. When he comes back, nine months later, summer has begun and childhood is ending. Emma can tell something is changed in him, but she doesn't know what. Until she does. He's fallen in love with someone else.

And then, suddenly, they're kissing on her nineteenth birthday. When she asks him to forget their night out, and never talk about it again, Killian thinks she means to tell him she regrets the kiss they exchanged. Except she has no memory of it.

Killian and Emma will dance around each other, until their heads spin and their legs hurt, and everything becomes blurry and it has to stop – for both of their sake.

Title and lyrics are from Taylor Swift’s Mirrorball -- which clearly inspired the mood of this chapter. Had it on loop while writing, so if you feel like it, do try to listen to it while reading! 

A huge thank you to @profdanglaisstuff who beta’d this and gave me her precious thoughts <3 

Friends to Lovers - Mutual Pining - Angst - Fluff - 6000 words - ao3  

Part 2 - AUGUST , Part 3 - HOAX, Part 4 - PEACE, Part 5 - THIS IS ME TRYING, Part 6 - CARDIGAN , Part 7 - INVISIBLE STRING

PART 1 - MIRRORBALL.

Emma clutches Ingrid’s yellow irises against her chest – almost too strongly, she might be bruising the inside of her fingers.

As she stares at the Arrival Board in front of her, she couldn’t care less for her own skin. The beat of her heart is drumming in her ears, and she is pretty certain oxygen is having a very hard time reaching her lungs.

Her right eyelid twitches. She wasn’t able to get any sleep last night, inhabited by a very childlike enthusiasm at the thought of seeing her friend again.

A breath of relief escapes Emma’s throat as the light next to Portsmouth changes color.  

“He has landed,” she whispers to herself, flowers still pressed to her chest.

She is too engulfed in her surroundings to notice she’s damaging the flowers. Ingrid is definitely going to kill her for butchering her favorite bush. She doesn’t care.

He should be here any time now. Her heart skips another beat and really, it’ll be a miracle if she is still standing on her feet by the time he reaches her.

Gazing all around her, she suddenly notices the large window in front of her that gives away a blurry reflection of her body. Emma frowns. One hand reluctantly gives up on the flowers to comb her hair.

You’re combing your hair for Killian, of all people, snorts her inner voice. But Emma is too happy to pay attention to her pride.

He’s been gone for nine months now, since last September. Has been going all around the world with the Navy, and she is proud of him. He did the right thing. (Even it meant leaving her behind.)

Emma has never known what it feels like to miss someone before she missed him. Being brought up as a foster kid, she hasn’t had anyone to miss for the longest time.

She’s bouncing up and down on her feet by now, anxiety shaking her legs.

Ingrid welcomed her in Storybrooke on her twelfth birthday. It was the best thing that ever happened to her. It allowed her to meet the brothers Jones – their orphan neighbors. Liam became Killian’s legal guardian when their father died.

The crowd of people around her brings Emma back to the present. More people gather together, and Emma understands they are all just as eager to see their loved ones as she is.

She cannot wait anymore. Her palm hurt around the cut flowers. Another few minutes go by, and time is painfully slow. She clenches her jaw. Unclenches it. Takes a look at the clock in front of her. Come on, relax, Emma.

And then, there he is.

“Killian!” The excited scream escapes her throat without her consent, a brutal wave of bliss sweeping her off her feet. She doesn’t hold it back.

He hasn’t changed one bit, or he isn’t the same at all. She doesn’t care. She only cares for the sweet hue of blue that meets her eyes and smiles in recognition.

“Emma!” He mirrors her happy scream.

Her heart beams as they run towards each other, and she throws herself intohis arms as soon as she reaches him. (By then, the flowers are to be respectfully buried and missed.)

She wraps her arms around his neck, and her senses are filled by him – his smell, a strong cologne she isn’t familiar with, his skin under her fingers, his tousled black hair that is suddenly very kept, the beginning of a scruff against her cheeks, the strength of his arms around her chest, and when did he get this tall?

“I missed you,” she exhales against his cheek, and holds him tighter. She is very unwilling to let him go now that she has him.

She hears a chuckle against her ear, and it is the most wonderful sound she has heard in those last pitiful nine months.

“I missed you, too, Swan.”

A tear rolls down her cheek at the nickname – it’s been so long and her world has been so bleak without him and she’s never known this kind of homesickness – and she realizes just how wet her eyes have become. She’s never cried from happiness before, but tears are rushing down her cheeks without her consent.

His grip becomes tighter around her waist, and then he slowly lets go. She does not expect him to let go first. She profoundly inhales to chase down a feeling of fear deep within her throat and backs away, her hands still around his neck.

Staring at him after all this time seems to stir something really odd within herself and her breath gets caught in her chest. She didn’t remember him this handsome. Did his nose always look this elegant, and have his lips always been this bright pink, and why are his eyes the color of the sea?

And then she remembers the flowers crushed between her clumsy hands.

One finger tracing the scar on his cheek, she shoves the bouquet against his chest. “That’s for you,” she smiles and her fingers cannot seem to let go of his face.

“Swan,” his eyes are so kind over her gift, she can tell he is really happy about them, although their lives were cut short in their prime, “thank you so much. They are my fav—”

“—favorite, I know! That’s why I got them for you.” And she smiles, harder, her cheeks hurt but she cannot bring herself to stop.

She ignores as well as she can the alarm ringing in her head. Why is he not touching her? What’s wrong? Did she get ugly while he was away? He was always touching her, before.

“Aye,” he grins, and then relief – his palm is over her cheeks and something incredibly tender and innocent blooms in her chest. She sighs, leans in his touch. She’s missed him so much. “Shall we go, Swan?”

She picks up the bag he let go of to hold her while he very gracefully carries the flowers. Surely he wouldn’t have damaged them. Killian is very careful not to damage anything ever.

“Sure thing. Welcome home, Killian,” and before her arm finds his, she’s bold enough to press her lips against his scruffy cheek.

She lingers there longer than intended, longer than what is reasonable and appropriate.

The glint she catches in his eyes when she backs away triggers something painful in her. She swallows it down. (Why did he look embarrassed? There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. They are friends.)

But then, they are walking down the airport like old times, and surely she must be thinking too much – as per usual.

.

She is so glad to have him back, she ignores very meticulously all of the signs telling her Killian might not be as happy to be back. (To be with her.)

She’s holding a watering can while he delicately drops flowers – pink roses – on Liam’s tombstone. She watches him frown, fingers caressing the marble with care and something else – anger.

She swallows. This wound is still very fresh. It’s been a year.

She pours some water on the plant she brought last month – a gorgeous, bright pink bush of flowers, and she quickly puts it down on the grass to hold his hand.

His eyes flash in surprise and she offers him a smile – why is he surprised? Emma never liked to be touched before, before he touched her. She chases down the feeling once again and holds his fingers tighter in her hands. I am not letting you go.

The sun is shining. It’s such a bright summer day. The air is not too warm, just warm enough to feel comfortable wearing a t-shirt, and a gentle breeze that carries summer smells brushes their cheeks.

It was also a wonderful summer day – the day Liam died. Her brows furrow. Last summer had been the best weather they had had in Maine for years.

“He would be proud of you,” she whispers, desperate to make him feel better.

She is aware there is not much she can do to help him fight this darkness that swallowed him alive. She is still willing to try.

“Would he?” He echoes back, and she does not recognize the bitterness she hears in his voice.

For the first time since she has known Killian Jones, Emma feels like she’s missing something. A piece of the puzzle to understand him. She feels like perhaps she does not know him as well as she thinks.

She would have taken a step back with anyone else. But with him, she playfully bumps her shoulder against his, fighting back her inner instincts. He got tall, and bulkier – only in a good way.

“Of course. You joined the Navy to make him proud, didn’t you?”

For the first time in ages, she really is asking him a question.

He’s been back for a month now, and his scruff is prominent over his face. She likes it. He looks manly. She thinks he knows he looks manlier.

She still looks like a teenage girl, with her long blonde hair and her freckles and her frail body, and she still wears sneakers with her dresses (when she wears them). And he looks so much older.

“Aye, I guess so. Thank you, Swan,” he smiles at her, his hand brushing her cheek, but somehow he is miles away.

She presses her lips against each other, firmly. There are pebbles in her belly. He put them there.

“Anytime, Killian,” she smiles, and in a desperate attempt to bring him back to her, she presses another kiss to his cheek.

He steps away quicker than she expects him. A cold breath reaches her lips in spite of the agreeable weather.

Another smile. She’s suffocating.

.

“Okay, so then after dinner we could finally go to a club!” She’s standing in the middle of her room, arms swung up towards the ceiling of her childhood bedroom.

Killian is chewing on a strawberry bubblegum, lying on her bed. He hasn’t let go of his phone all afternoon.

“As you wish, Swan. It’s your birthday, after all.”

Can’t he look a bit more involved? A very childish anger burns her tongue as her hands find her hips in disapproval.

“Exactly! Which is why I’m going to ask you to look a little bit more enthusiastic, Killian Jones.”

She doesn’t mean to sound this harsh but she does anyway. At least, that gets him to look up from his phone, and she sees a glint of regret pass in his eyes. A smile finally cracks his face.

“You’re right, Swan. Forgive me. I’m just a bit concerned by something but don’t worry, I’m all ears now.”

She hates herself for how quickly she kneels in front of him, on her pink carpeted floor that she hates but Ingrid tried her best to make her feel at home.

Even more for the way she grabs his hands, pouring her soul into his eyes.

“I can tell you’re not really here, Killian.” She pauses, watches as he raises one eyebrow – it isn’t what she expected but it isn’t mean either, “And I want you to know there’s nothing you cannot tell me.”

She’s so naïve. She means every word.

He nods. Her eyes look down at his lips. She wants to kiss him. But she cannot – not when he’s still miles away from her, still stuck in Portsmouth.

“I know that, love,” something blooms in her chest. He hasn’t called her love in a year now, “Don’t worry, I’m quite alright.”

He lies. It’s the first time he’s lied to her about something important since she’s known him.

Fear captures her heart. It’s green, and viscous, and it drips on everything she holds dear.

He’s slipping between her fingers. She’s losing him. She cannot lose him.

.

She’s the one lying on his bed while he takes a shower when she sees her message. She doesn’t mean to, really. But his phone vibrates on his bedside table, and she only glances at it out of curiosity.

She sees it. M. Who is M?

She rolls on her belly, glances at the closed door of his bathroom, and reads the message, heart drumming in her ears.

“I know, baby. Rumple is driving me crazy too. But it will all be worth it, soon. I promise. Just hold on to our love.”

Something rings in her ears, it’s painful, it spreads from her liver and all the way up to her mouth, and she cannot see anymore, and her birthday is tomorrow and he is in love with someone else.

It takes her a lot of strength then, to roll back on her back, to try and make herself comfortable again between his pillows and his smell – in spite of the rigidity in her bones and this feeling of utter disgust in her mouth. She holds on to the silver bracelet around her wrist - the one Killian offered Emma for her eighteenth birthday, last year. 

So many questions bounce in her mind, but one fact absolutely obliterates her. He doesn’t want to confide in her anymore. He is clearly struggling with this Rumple, and this M, and he doesn’t want her help.

The bathroom door swings open and steam invades his bedroom as he steps out, wet hair and big grin. She knows the grin will remain but will become a mere theatrical performance once he reads the message. She doesn’t want him to read it. She wants to keep him to herself.

“Ready for that ice-cream, Swan?” he attacks right away, all charms out. When did he get this charming? When did he become aware of his charms?

“Always ready for some rocky road,” she answers back, and she’s surprised to hear her own voice calm and collected.

Perhaps she is growing up, too. She used to be a terrible liar. But that’s what they do, now, apparently.

His smell fills her lungs, and it’s the one of her childhood – peppermint, and something muskier, and him.

.

“Emma, you won’t forget to take care of the garden –” exclaims Ingrid as they’re about to leave her ice-cream shop.

She squints her eyes. Fuck. Exactly what she wanted to avoid.

“Sure thing, Ingrid,” she mumbles, before taking Killian’s arm in her hers and guiding them both out of her shop.

Emma swallows a scream of injustice. That’s her punishment for stealing the flowers for Killian.

“Flowers are not meant to be picked. They’re meant to be cared for, admired, but not picked, Emma.”

Emma didn’t tell her what’s the use of having flowers if you cannot offer them to someone you love but she did stare at her with a lot of defiance.

Rocky Road has never tasted this wrong in her mouth, as they sit outside of Granny’s, on the warm concrete. It’s burning her naked thighs, but it still doesn’t suck as much as the way Killian stares at his phone – just like she expected him to. He’s waiting for M to answer him.

Emma wants to tell him he can confide in her but clearly he doesn’t want to. And it’s one of the strongest pain she’s ever felt – it’s a wicked, wicked pain that spreads from her heart to her pride and slays every inch of her good feelings.

She keeps licking her ice-cream, eyes locked to the road.

Her birthday is tomorrow. On the twenty-first, the first day of summer. She waits for summer all year, waits for the special moments she knows she’ll spend with Killian.

Only, this year, Killian doesn’t seem as happy to spend them with her.

Thankfully, Ingrid’s Rocky Road is still the best thing in town.

.

As she gets ready for her birthday party, Emma figures out she has nothing to lose. She decides to play all of her cards.

She’s staring at herself in the mirror while pop music plays in the background.

She hates her round cheeks and her slender body that refuses to give her the big chest boys seem to be so fond of. She’s frowning as she examines her features meticulously.

She usually doesn’t wear makeup, if not for a bit of mascara. It’s the only thing she’s comfortable with wearing on her face. As for her clothes, Emma is a jeans and sneakers kind of gal. Her only accessory is Killian's bracelet - and it doesn't count, because by now it is part of her. 

She didn’t use to mind. It’s who she is. But since she’s seen M’s contact photo – she really didn’t mean to intrude, it just appeared when she tried to call him – Emma has become more self-conscious. (Terribly so).

M has long back curls and red lips, and she’s a woman. Not a girl like her. Her eyes are blue but they’re not timid, they shine sure and knowing and her smile is confident.

Emma hates her freckles. She looks like she’s twelve.

Tentatively, she brushes her blond eyebrows – just like she’s seen Ingrid do. It doesn’t make much of a difference and she muffles a dramatic sigh, frowning.  

Killian will never find her pretty ever again.

That night, she also tip toes to Ingrid’s room to borrow some lady-like perfume. Emma only likes to use a very natural ginger fragrance – her smell but a bit better.

She winces. She hates the too-sweet, too-flowery smell that wraps itself around her body. Whatever. Killian must like that.

She’s nineteen tonight. The only teen year left of her life. She better make the most of it. (If Killian does not tell her about his mysterious girlfriend who’s far too beautiful for her to compete with, then she can’t really be doing something wrong, can she?)

She eyes the different dresses spread on the pink blanket of her bed. (Ingrid is very committed to pink.)

At her feet, the only pair of heels she could find in her wardrobe. They are small, black squared heels but really they’ll do the trick. They will have to at least.

Hands on her hips, she settles for the pink, light dress. It’s not her favorite color, but the fabric is very soft and fits her small waist like a glove. The lower part of the dress is flowy and ends well above her knees. Emma knows her legs are long and toned and she wants to show them off tonight.

To finish the look, she ties her hair in a high ponytail to get her hair off her face. Ingrid has always told her to.

As she eyes herself in her mirror, she thinks she looks pretty. She smiles at her reflection, her earrings glinting.

She glances at the big clock on her wall. 8:15. Killian should be here anytime, now.

Her heart beats faster, thinking of him.

She smiles, grabs her bag and goes down the stairs of Ingrid’s house. It already smells like dinner time, and it should comfort her, but it does not. She catches Ingrid’s surprised eyes in the kitchen.

“What do you think?” Emma asks, and it’s the first time she asks for Ingrid’s opinion on her appearance, but well –

Ingrid lets go of the tomato she is expertly cutting to stare at her. Her mouth slightly opens. And Emma swears she sees something very gentle sparkle in her green eyes.

“I think you look beautiful, Emma.” Ingrid’s smile is very tender over her figure, and something weird clenches Emma’s heart.

She simply smiles back. “Thanks, Ingrid. Don’t wait for me tonight, Killian and I are going to party!”

.

She almost runs to the door when she hears him knock. She tries to remain as composed and adult as possible, and instead calmly walk there. (Her feet are already killing her and her legs are stiff. This is going to be hell.)

She opens the door to discover him in a white shirt and black suit, and with a bouquet of yellow irises.

“Those ones I did not steal from Ingrid,” he smiles, his eyes glinting over her figure, and she could swear he likes what he sees, and her toes curl in her shoes and a very sweet heat invades her face, “Happy birthday, Emma,” he grins, and then she cannot hold herself back and wraps her arms around his neck.

She loves how her feet leave the floor for just a moment, as he spins her around, and she feels like they’re immortal.

“Thank you, Killian”, she murmurs against his cheek, presses a long kiss there, and intertwines their fingers together.

She thinks her crush is showing but really, as he glances at her body in her dress and climbs back to her face – a really lovely pink hue over his cheeks, and perhaps is pink not such a bad color – she doesn’t care.

She’s quick to put down the flowers on Ingrid’s kitchen counter, “Please take care of them!”, before disappearing in the night with her friend.

.

They pay all due respect to their Birthday tradition and go eat a grilled cheese at Granny’s. Granny’s give them a knowing look as they sit on the terrace outside. The old woman eyes Killian’s hand on the small of Emma’s back just as Emma feels it sending sparks up her spine.

They look like a couple, she’s sure of it, and the thought makes her feel giddy.

As they sit outside, by the lanterns and the Storybrooke sign, it feels like Killian never left.

“Remember when you were thirteen and I had to get you out of a bloody bin, Emma, just because you didn’t want to face Ingrid—”

“Hey!” Her scream isn’t really one and she’s waving an onion ring at him, “It’s my birthday, be nice to me.” And she rolls her eyes and he waggles his brows, and everything is right in the world.

His phone is still on the table, but face down. He is all eyes on her and she is very much pleased. (Even when it rings, once, twice, until Killian turns it off and she sighs in relief.)

“You’re very beautiful tonight, Swan,” he tells her as she finishes her grilled cheese.

And she hates him for saying so when her hands are wrapped around the greasy sandwich, and there’s probably cheese in the corners of her mouth, and strings of hair have fallen in front of her eyes – but she smiles.

“Thank you,” something warm and sunny blooms in her chest, “you’re not too bad yourself.”

She sees his eyes go wider, and she realizes he mustn’t have expected to say something back.

She keeps smiling. She feels an unfamiliar confidence take hold of her, straighten her spine and push her to grab his hand, on the table.

He glances at their knuckles but he doesn’t back away, and that must be good.

Finally, he waggles his brows and lets a small chuckle escape his lips. “Eat up, Swan. Before your favorite meal gets cold.”

She thinks then that she’s been touching him with her greasy fingers, and clearly that’s a mistake M wouldn’t have made, but… but he didn’t seem to mind. And his cheeks are red again. And that must be good, right?

.

They walk down to the only club in town – one down the beach. Storybrooke is a small town, but their fake IDs should be enough to get in.  

Her feet are quite literally killing her, so when Killian offers that they walk in the sand instead, she happily complies. (She thinks he saw her suffering.)

It’s a full moon above them, and its reflection on the tender waves that come crashing at their feet is breathtaking. He is walking slightly ahead of her, but just now she doesn’t mind.

A sea breeze tangles her hair. She is happy.

“Hey, Swan,” he finally turns around to face her, and he is very handsome, and she realizes he has been carrying a plastic bottle in his bag. “Want some?” he asks her in a cheeky tone.

Her heart skips a beat in her chest. It’s not the first time Killian and she have gotten drunk together – and usually it ends with both of them asleep in one of their beds and a terrible headache the next morning.

(Killian’s always been her only true friend. Sure, she’s sympathized with Mary Margaret and Ruby at school – but they don’t get her like he does.)

“Hell yes,” she exclaims and stretches her hand to grab the bottle. “Cheaper to get drunk now than in the club.”

“Aye, that’s the spirit, Swan.”

She guesses he must have gotten drunk several times, this past year, without her. She figures he is grown up in all of the possible meanings of the word. It scares her, to think he’s going on without her. That’s he is already ahead of her, and she cannot quite catch up. She probably never will.

The bottle’s neck meets her lips, and it’s a pretty well done mix of vodka and fruit juice that she tastes against her tongue, and she wishes she were kissing him instead.

She takes several big gups, wincing as alcohol burns her throat and abandons a pleasing warmth in her chest.

“Careful, Swan. This isn’t only fruit juice.” She wipes her mouth as she hands him the bottle over.

“Oh come on, Killian. It’s my birthday, let me have some fun.”

She hates the concern she hears in his voice. He isn’t her big brother. She can take care of herself.

She watches as he drinks at his turn, watches as his Adam’s apple goes up and down. They used to be so similar, both of them all slender bodies, and now he is a man, and his shoulders are wide and his back strong, and she isn’t quite sure she is a woman yet.

She waits for him to put back the bottle in his bag and grabs his hand.

“Come on, let’s have some fun!”

And then she’s twirling around him, laughing brightly, and only stops when her body reminds her she just drank vodka and this will end badly if she keeps pushing her limits. Out of breath, she wraps her arms around his neck to settle herself, and his arms come to meet her waist.

The sea still whimpers behind them, but she only sees the soft waves in his eyes and the soft smile he dedicates to her.  

There is a sparkle, in his gaze, a question at the tip of his tongue – but he will not ask it.

She wants him to.

Her fingers trace the shape of his jaw as she swallows, a small smile on her face.

“Dizzy, are we, Swan?” he asks her, and she realizes just how close their faces have gotten as his breath caresses her face.

She shakes her head. “Not dizzy at all. Happy.” She calmly exhales, licks her lips.

He will not kiss her. She wants him to. But he won’t. Because of her, she’s sure now. But, the night isn’t over.

He brushes a strand of hair behind her ear and steps back to let go. She misses the heat of his body immediately, can’t fight back the frown that takes over her features.

“I’m glad, Swan.” Why does he sound so mature? She hates it.

A childish anger shakes her heart and she feels cold. He left childhood behind and he didn’t bother to tell her he was leaving. He didn’t bother. And now she’s stuck in this weird limbo, not a child anymore but not an adult either, not really, not like M, and he isn’t with her anymore.

She shakes her head to chase her thoughts away.

“Right, let’s get in.”

It’s still pretty early, and there aren’t a lot of people queuing in front of The Forbidden Fruit (the name never fails to make her cringe). This allows Killian and Emma to display their fake ID’s quite quickly.

Killian plays the part awfully well, although they’ve downed the entire bottle of vodka before stepping in. Emma is very focused on not looking completely hammered, as Killian would put it. Girls get in easier, it’s a known fact.

The bouncer clearly knows they are underage but the forgeries are good. Killian got them done during his Navy year. And he is savagely challenging the tall, sturdy guy to prove those are fakes, one eyebrow raised.

How can he look this sober? It’s unfair.

“Fine, get in, kids,” mumbles the bouncer, and Emma is sober enough to muffle a scream of joy inside her palm.

Killian takes her hand in his as they enter the club. They let go of their bags in one corner – I’m not about to pay two dollars to have my stuff kept by people I don’t bloody know.

When they turn towards the dance floor, neon lights seize their eyes as pop music shakes the walls.

Killian turns to face her, smiling brightly. “Ready to party, Swan?”

She nods vigorously, her heart beaming. “Hell yes!”

He takes her hand again and it’s so easy to forget everything as they make their way between the swarm of young adults dancing. They swirl together, spin, fly some more. They are both soon panting and sweating but it does not keep them from continuing to jump around.

Emma thinks this is it, the great, terrible happiness she’s heard about her entire life. It must be this beat in her heart, this strong pulse of life inside of her, as Killian holds her hands and swings with her.

They dance for what seems to be only a few minutes – except almost an hour goes by – and Killian glances urgently at the watch on his wrist before pulling her towards him.

“Let’s go on the rooftop before midnight,” he yells into her ear, and it sounds like he’s whispering.

She nods again, smiling brightly, and presses a napkin against her forehead. She tries to catch her breath, stuck in some liminal space, but Killian is still very energetic and drags her along with him towards the stairs.

She finds her legs trembling under her weight and to be quite honest, the room might only be spinning in her head. He must feel her struggle because he turns to face her on reaching the stairs, and his hold is very firm on her hand as he secures his grip around her waist. She thinks she smiles then, and they climb up together.

“Since when do you hold your alcohol so well?” she asks, boldly, and it really isn’t the kind of question she would have asked had she been sober.

Purely because it echoes the year they spent apart. And they haven’t talked about it, at all. And she’d be damned before she opened up to him when he hasn’t opened up to her.

“Well, you’ve got to, in the Navy, love.” It’s the second time he’s called her love since he’s been back. Her heart smiles.

The vibrant sea breeze that welcomes them outside nearly swipes Emma off her feet. Or perhaps it is the vodka. Either way, it’s a plausible excuse to grab him again.

From the corner of her blurry vision, she sees Killian set a timer to midnight on his phone. It’s funny, how the music from the club sounds like a very muffled sound and the only thing she hears now is her own heartbeat.

She’s still out of breath. She inhales deeply, and then bows down to him. “May I have this dance?” she asks him, eyes shining with mischief.

He chuckles, and it’s a wonderful sound. “Anything for you, Swan.”

There must be some synchronicity in the universe because then a much gentler song resonates, and it sounds like her teenage years and she cannot believe childhood is already over.

They swirl together, his warm palm in hers, and her arm is wrapped around his neck, and he still smells good after all their dancing and it’s unfair. She hopes she doesn’t stink.

Another swirl, another turn, and she’s back in his arms again, and nothing ever felt this right. She thinks he must feel it, how well their bodies fit together, how easy it is to be together.

Before she knows it, she’s staring at his lips and she thinks he’s staring at hers too, and no air suddenly reaches her lungs and the timer rings painfully.

A smile spreads across his face. “Happy birthday, Emma.” He murmurs, says it with a lot of caution and care and affection and that other word she’s scared of.

She grins, brightly, vividly.

And then, she stands up on her tip-toes, and before they are both aware of it, she kisses him. Melts into his mouth, muffles a whisper of contentment against his lips, eyes firmly closed, just in case he pushes her away.

He doesn’t.

He kisses her back, his arms wrapping tightly around her, and she swears in that moment something explodes inside of her. She never believed in butterflies. She does now. A swarm has invaded her belly.

Her hands are in his hair, while his roam back and forth between her waist and her shoulder blades, and she cannot help but notice how expert his movements are against her body when she is still shaking with emotions.

And then he pulls back, and he’s all disheveled hair and rosy cheeks, and then, and then – she falls.

To the ground.

.

A ray of sunshine falls on her closed eyelids. When she wakes up, her hand is spread over her face and her mouth wide open. She groans, whimpers, groans some more and finally opens very hesitant eyes.

What the hell.

A terrible headache says hello to her. It isn’t fair.

The first thing she notices is Killian’s hand around her waist. In spite of the pain, that does make her smile. The next is that she isn’t home but in Killian’s childhood home (the one Liam and he inherited when they lost their father).

She slowly, very carefully, turns her face towards the nightstand. Of course. He left paracetamol and water there and a small note: “For my dearest idiot. Love, Killian”. It is set next to a picture of her and Killian, from middle school. She leans forward, tries her best not to wake him up in the process, and grabs the bottle. She drinks avidly, trying to hydrate the desert that is now her body.

A small chuckle echoes behind her. “You alright, Swan?” mumbles a voice, still very full of sleep.

She turns to face him, an apologetic smile on her lips. “Except for a ferocious headache, pretty good, yeah.”

He’s smiling at her, eyes still puffy and there is a very clear pillow mark in the middle of his forehead that makes him look like a wizard, and she swears he’s never smiled at her this way before.

And then shame circles her throat as memories come back to her mind.

She really made a show of herself last night, didn’t she? She hopes he doesn’t hate her.

She hands him the water bottle, and straightens her back in the bed to get some composure.

“Hey Killian?”

“Mmm?”

“Let’s forget all about last night, ‘kay? I was drunk and I’m sure I was awful...”

She hears him gulp loudly beside her. Her eyes twitch. Oh, it must be worse than she thought. Guilt swallows her. What has she done?

“All… all about it?” he repeats, and she swears his cheeks have become redder.

Her hands come to the blanket over her body, hold it tighter against her to protect her.

“Yeah, everything. I mean, it would have never happened if we hadn’t downed that damn vodka just the two of us.”

She tries to shrug it off, rolls her eyes really hard to seal the deal, but really, she is so ashamed.

He swallows beside her, frowns. “Alright Swan, if that is your wish, then I—”

“—Oh yeah,” she cuts him, and she’s throwing her legs out of the bed, “—I’m really sorry Killian, it won’t happen again.”

As he stares at her with what she thinks is some sort of judgement, the thought that she might be forgetting something does slip her mind.

But only for a few seconds, and then it’s gone forever.

[gremlin-writes-angst]

The Three Kingdoms

Chapter 1 - Here’s Chapter 2

1.3k words written by gremlin-writes-angst

A story about a prince, a princess, a royal guard and a famous knight, and how their love forms and changes each other. Three different kingdoms, The Ashido Kingdom, The Toyomitsu kingdom and The Kaminari Kingdom, all of different status. The Ashido Kingdom is the wealthiest around , their soon to be queen Mina Ashido who has fallen for her loyal guard and best friend, Sero Hanta. The Toyomitsu Kingdom known for defeating The Kaminari Kingdom over 100 years ago, and for their fierce knights and, specifically, the strongest knights of the land Eijiro Kirishima. The Kaminari Kingdom, home of prince Denki Kaminari , a kingdom on the verge of collapse, the known rival of The Toyomitsu Kingdom.

Trigger warning: nothing graphic but mentions of torture.

Let me now if I missed a trigger or if there's spelling mistakes.

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A famous knight from The Toyomitsu kingdom was sent to spy on The Kaminari Kingdom from the inside. He was tall, kind, handsome, strong, and manly. He was known as one of the strongest knights for his age, all knights wanted to meet him, to learn from him, but he wasn't allowed to leave his kingdom until he turned 18. When he turned 18 he was given a mission to infiltrate the enemy kingdom, not to attack just so that their kingdom could be aware of the others' attacks. He failed though, almost immediately caught by the king and brought to a special cellar and tortured. Half a week in the cell being tortured and he thought he was starting to lose himself, until he heard someone descending the stairs, the knight watched the stairway waiting to see who was coming to see him at this time of night. It was a blonde, and a beautiful one at that. The knight l thought that because of the hour and the fact the blonde beauty wasn't dressed in knight armor,  that the blonde was her to save him. His hopes of being saved was proven false when the blonde started to rain insults at the man, mostly based on his kingdom. Even though the words were rude it was better than the physical torture he was facing everyday, he was relieved , relieved enough to laugh. The knight watched as the blonde's face changed from scowl to a very sour looking face, which made him laugh more.

"Stop laughing you… you ugh you threw me off my script" 

Denki couldn't think of any insulting names on the spot everything he previously said was planned and rehearsed.Through the laughs the knight introduces himself 

" I'm Eijiro Kirishima, Knight of The Toyomitsu Kingdom" 

He sticks his hand out of the cell bars waiting for a handshake, instead he receives a smack.

"I know who you are and I don't want to be friends, you're from Taishiro Toyomitsu kingdom, our enemy and the reason I don't have a mother anymore."

Kirishima pulled his hand back into the cell

" I'm sorry about your mother but I know that King Toyomitsu doesn't want to fight and never wanted to cause harm. How did she die?"

" Birth complications, she was due to give birth to my brother but they both died."

" I'm sorry for your loss but how is that my kingdom's fault?"

Denki thought back to that day, his dad stormed the castle, screaming and crying about the death of his wife and offspring, cursing at Toyomitsu's and his kingdom. Now thinking back Denki realizes that he doesn't actually know why his dad blamed Toyomitsu's kingdom, but there had to be a reason…..right

" it just is OK, everything is your kingdoms fault"

"Oh is this some kind or coping mechanism where you blame things on something else so you don't have to face reality?"

Denki didn't like what the knight was saying because it was possible.

" no, your kingdom killed them, you sent poison or paid the doctor to kill her."

"Believe what you want,  but I swear on my kingdom, my knight status,  on my family that our kingdom did not mean for you mother and unborn brother to die" 

Kirishima pledged, and Denki watched, even when kirishima was done, Denki stayed for a few minutes until the silence became unbearable,  and he left, cursing at himself for not defending his beliefs well enough.

The blonde was the only person to not torture kirishima while he was here so he grew attached to the conversation they had even if it was short and full of insults. He waited up at night in hopes of seeing the blonde again but after a few nights he realized he might have scared the blonde off cause the blonde hadn't returned. Kirishima gave up and went to sleep, and the next night while was asleep the blonde made his way down to the dungeon, he had been away because he was mad at the knight,  mainly because he was right. When Denki got to the cellular he saw the sleeping figure, there were new cuts and bruises but he was more focused on the face, he was drooling? This was the knight that he had heard could kill a dozen knights in one go, the knight that was named "red riot" because he was covered in the blood of his enemy's, but he looked so peaceful sleeping. Denki would even say he looked like a puppy, a very cute puppy at that. Denki shook his head and hit it against the cell bars to get rid of those thoughts. Kirishima was woken by the ring of the cell bars. 

" shhh I'm trying to sleep…oh it's you, why today, of course you decided to show up the day I stop waiting."

 Kirishima originally wanted to stop the sound changed to being awake and full of excitement at the sight of the beautiful blonde. Denki was thrown of his grove when he heard the knight talk. For one his wake up voice was…. well it was hot. And the words he said made him blush and forgot what he wanted to say

" you waited up for me" 

As soon as Denki asked that and realized the filthy thoughts he had he hit his head on the bars again

" well yeah, wow stop that ,you'll ruin that pretty face of yours"

Denki froze in his spot, did the knight from his enemy kingdom  call him pretty, maybe he just hit his head too many times, his solution was to hit it more. Denki hit his head two more times very quickly when he swung for a third time but made no contact with the bar. He opened his eyes to see the knight's bare arm on his chest, the knight had pushed him away from the bars , preventing him from harming himself.

"You don't listen do you , I said stop, your gonna cause yourself brain damage"  

The blonde looked at the arm on his chest again, it was very muscular,  but not bulky, there were bruises and cuts along it but Denki couldn't stop thinking about how strong this knight must be, from what Denki could see, the knight was built like his dream man. Denki shook his head to get rid of the thoughts of another man in such a way. He separated himself from the Knight. 

" I came here to ask about what you know about coping mechanics or whatever you said last time."

Kirishima was glad to have stopped the blonde from harming himself,  and that the blonde was trying to learn

"Well it's not uncommon for a person to blame things they can't or don't want to believe on a person or thing that can't defend themselves. Like how your dad blames everything on my kingdom, we don't know he's blaming us so we can't defend ourselves."

"I guess that makes sense, i mean I never really understand how it was King Toyomitsu's fault when the baker ran out of my father's favorite bread" 

Kirishima laughs

"That funny, you're funny, and yeah that doesn't make sense"

Denki was flustered again, he was never called funny before,  and he liked it. Denki realized that the guards would soon come check on the prisoner, so he began to leave without a goodbye before he could leave the knight asked

" Will you be back? What's your name , you never told me?"

 Kirishima was desperate he knew the yelling would attract the guards but he need to know the boys name

" I'm Denki and yes I'll return when I can" 

Kirishima thought about the blonde he now knew as Denki ,it sounded familiar but he couldn't remember why.

As Denki fleas up the stairs he realized he gave the knight his first name and not his last, but he realized it was probably best he didn't know that he was the prince of the kingdom and that his father was the same one that was beating Kirishima everyday. When he gets to bed he thinks about the knight, his puppy face,his hot voice, the muscular body and the laugh. And he replays the laugh and his voice saying "you're funny" until he falls asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading. I would love feed back.

[merci-bitch]

Her.

Rose The Hat x Fem!Reader

Warning (s): smut, angst, fluff

Words: 2,4K 

A/N: This was actually very emotional to write, in the beginning at least. I wrote this for a very good friend @shart-xing. Hope you like it Kat! Despite it being some what semi emotional to write it was actually quite fun. It really was. I took time to explore what I was comfortable with in the process of writing it all. I’m not an expert in writing smut so sorry if it wasn’t completely full on. 

“And I want her...I want her” Rose said as she looked up at Crow Daddy. He slowly reached out for her hand before she slapped it away. “I fucking want her” Rose’s face expression was deeply serious. She’s never felt like this before. She’s never wanted anyone like she wanted her.

~~~

I was walking down the street after a day of school. Despite being 23 that didn’t stop me from studying. I didn’t just wanna be some lazy kid that just sat at home and complained about everything. I wanted to become something, not caring if I would make it into anything. I had promised my grandmother before she died I would make something up with music. That’s promise has been with me ever since. 10 years is a long time. I wanted to build my life off of music. Not caring if I became famous or not, just wanted to share the gift I had. The pleasure I found in making music. I didn’t wanna make music for eyes, nor rather for ears. I couldn’t care less about what people would think about me. Sure we all have had our ups and downs but in the end? I’m sure we all get what we want at some point, we just have to work hard for it. As my mother always said, if you wanna enjoy the pleasure, you better do something to earn it.

I had made a few songs. One in particular had gotten recognized. It was called ‘Life’. It was about how our every day is, how we all actually feel deep down inside. How we all are too scared to ask for help. But despite all this, I’ve never felt more alone in the world. Ever since I was a child I had always been told I was special, different then the others. That I didn’t only have the gift in singing but the gift of them shining’. I could read people’s thoughts, make people do stuff by just thinking about it. I’ve been called many names. Some like freak, monster. I’ve never really understood why I had been born this way. All I really wanted was a normal life, without any of this. But I guess we all can’t have a normal life, right?

I sat on a park bench as the sunset was beginning to form. The air slightly cold, not enough to freeze though. It was nice. A nice day in the end of July. A few weeks after my birthday. I hadn’t really celebrated it. It wasn’t really a day that meant anything to me anymore. When I turned 15 my parents abounded me and my big brother. I woke up one day and they were gone. No note, no phone call. No nothing. After it all I began to shut people out. I started balling myself for my parents disappearance. I felt as if it was my fault they left. Me and my brother still have contact despite not seeing him in person for 5 years. Since I lived in New York and he lived in London with his girlfriend it wasn’t really easy to just jump on a plane and meet up. I did miss him. I texted him good morning and goodnight everyday and told him if anything would happen. Like when my song ‘Life’ blew up. He would always say he was proud of me, that mom and that would have been proud too. As much as our grandmother would. We agreed on that the first star that would shine up in the sky was her. That she was watching over us, protecting us from any harm.

“Isn’t it to late for a young stud like you to be out here?” I heard a voice behind me say. I turned around and saw a mystical looking woman starring back at me. She was wearing what looked like a magicians hat. Her eyes looked like they were hiding so much. Like she knew everything that was happening in the world. Her facial reconstructions softened as she saw my tears stained cheeks. She walked around the bench and sat down next to me. “Dry those pretty eyes of you my love” She reaches out for me but I managed to pull away. Feeling awfully uncomfortable around this woman. I felt as if she was reading my every thought. As she knew my whole story by just looking at me.

I stood up and turned to walk away when I felt a grip on my arm. “What a rude way to greet someone. Haven’t mommy and daddy told you to be nice to everyone you meet?” I felt myself tense up. “Oh that’s right. Mommy and daddy left” Her lips forming a wicked smile as she tilted her head to the side. I pulled my arm to myself and took a few steps away from her. “I-you know nothing about me. Stay away from me please” I turned around and started to walk away. Feeling her eyes on me.

(What’s wrong my sweet. Scared of old Rosie?)

I felt myself tense up once again. Her laugh echoed inside my head as I felt her presence next to me once more. “That’s right baby. I’m just like you.” I felt a light sting on the inside of my neck before everything went black.

~~~

I woke up by hearing two people talking behind me. I was lying rather comfortably on what I think was a bed while lying on my side. My head against the wall as my back was against the people who were talking.

“We’ve been over this Rosie. Just because you see someone you like doesn’t mean you can just take them with you everywhere you go!” I heard a manly voice say. “I told you she’s different. She’s steamy, and she’s mine.” That female voice I recognized. The woman at the park. “I fucking want her and now she’s here. Lying right over there. If you ever touch her I swear to god, I will kill you with my bare hands and feed you to the others Crow” Feed you to the others?! What was this? Some kind of cannibalistic cult?! I need to get the fuck out of here, that’s for sure. And why did she keep saying I was hers? I was my own property thank you very much. I heard a door open and close. I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep as I heard footsteps coming closer towards me. I soon felt someone lie behind me. That person was placing light kisses on the inside of my neck. “Can’t wait you show you so many things my love. Can’t wait to make you mine.” She turned me around as she grabbed my jaw and placed a kiss on my lips before getting off the bed. I heard the door open and close again. I opened my eyes as touched my lips with my fingers. Wondering what the hell I had gotten myself into.

I had been quite some time since this woman had been here. I guessed her name was Rosie since that’s what I’ve heard. Apparently she was living in an RV? A rather big one, and a very homey one to. It looked so much like the pictures you would see on Pinterest or FaceBook. Hell, there was even a bathtub. As I looked at the selections of books lying on the small table next to the bed I heard the door open and close once more. I was meet with that very woman. Her lips forming a big smile. “Well, hi there sleepyhead. Had a good nap?” She moved towards me and stood behind me. Running her hands up my arms, squeezing my shoulders lightly.

“Where-who are you?!” I turned around to face her. She took a piece of my hair and placed it behind my ear. “I would have figured you would have known that by now. I’m Rose, Rose The Hat as my friends call me. You much be Y/N.” I didn’t say anything but just nodded my head. “I did give you a chance though. I tried as much as I could not to go inside that pretty little head of yours” My eyes went wide as she spoke. She let out a chuckle as she took ahold of my hand and lead me towards the bed. Patting the space next to me.

“Where am I actually.” I asked as I sat down. “You’re home, my sweet” I let out a snort. Apparently surprising her. “I don’t even know who you are and you’re calling this my home?” I stood up again as I threw my hands in the air. “Don’t you wanna know what happened to your mommy and daddy?” She asked incidently. I turned around to face her and looked her dead in the eye. The silence making her grin that was planted on her face grow. Did she have anything to do with my parents disappearance? “Oh yes. Of course I did.” She answered as if it were nothing. My first thought was, she killed them. I knew she was reading my mind as she let out various of laughs. I couldn’t help myself but launch at her and grab her throat to choke her while straggling her. I felt my vision being blurred by the tears forming.

“How-how could you! You killed my parents! I-I was 15!” She grabbed my hands that were wrapped around her throat and pulled them away from her. She then embraced me in a tight hug as she started to rock me back and forth. “I didn’t kill your parents. Yes they were steamy despite their age and we were gonna eat them-“ “oh real cute Rose. Real cute” She shushed me up. “But then I saw you. So young and so vulnerable. So much pain and fear after your parents. It hurt me to be honest. I didn’t kill your parents, however I watched as they drow off a cliff” I felt my world shatter. My parents would never do that, they would never just leave me and my brother without a reason. I started fighting against Rose’s grip around me. Started hitting her. Trying to get away, but nothing worked. She was too strong.

After what seemed like ages I finally calmed down. Feeling slightly comfortable in the strangers arms. “Really? You’re gonna call me a stranger?” Rose said as we broke apart, me still sitting on her lap. “Could you stop reading my fucking mind for a moment please?!” I dried my eyes in the sleeves on my shirt. “Only because you said please.” I mouthed thank you. She handed me some tissue to dry my nose. After I was done I threw out the tissue I had used and found Rose looking at me. “What” “You’re extremely cute” Despite not wanting to, I felt my cheeks grow hot. I hit my face in my hands as I rested my head against her shoulder. “Oh no sweetie. Let me see that pretty face of yours” She took ahold of my wrists and made me look up at her again. She rested her forehead against mine. “You’re safe with me Y/N. I’ll never leave you. I promise” Despite only know this woman for maybe 4 hours? I felt safe, not rather said, loved. I raised my pinky finger. “Pinky promise” She smiled as she nodded and raised her pinky finger as well. “Pinky promise.”

~~~

Just as I pasted the doorway into Rose’s RV I was slammed up against the wall. My arms being held up above my head. “What the actual fuck Rose?!” She shut me up with a kiss. The kiss wasn’t just full of love but full of pure lust. Her knee moving in between my thighs, pressing up against my core. She started trailing her kisses down my jaw, down my neck. Letting her hands move down and stopping at my chest. I forced back a moan in the back of my throat. Wasn’t gonna let her have all the joy that easily. I used all the strength and flipped us over, slamming Rose into the wall. I meet her surprised eyes.

“What’s gotten into you? Damn.” She leant forward and bit my jaw. Making me let out a low groan. “I want you...I want you so bad. Let me have you” Rose answered as I felt her hands on my ass. Her hands moving further down as she lifted me up in her arms. Caring me towards the bed and dropping me before getting on top of me, attacking my neck. Trailing sloppy, wet kisses down my neck as her hands moved up to my chest. Squeezing my bra threw my shirt. I let out the first of many moans. I saw her rip open my shirt and trail the kisses further down. My breathing became more shallow and harsher as she continued. Her fingers hooked under my pants and pulled them down, taking my panties with. Leaving me in only a black bra. She threw my pants and panties on the floor as she got in between my legs after spreading them wide. Locking her hands under my thighs as she started placing light feather kisses on the insides of my thighs.

“Rose. God dammit-just please!” I had been begging for god knows how long. She had gotten me so close, so many times. “I don’t know Y/N. Do you really deserve to come?” Her fingers teasing my clit further. “I-yes! I’ll do anything! Just please! I need to come!” She let out a deep laugh as she lowered her head and let her tongue touch my clit. Doing kitten licks, up and down before taking my clit in between her lips and starting to suck. “Fuck! Yes-thank god!”

~~~

Rose was lying next to her. She was hers now, and Rose was going to make sure that it stayed that way too. No way in hell she was letting go of her sweetheart. Not now, not ever

[rhegar]

Dearly Beloved

Summary: Elia Martell passes away after giving birth to Aegon from complications. Rhaegar Targaryen, now widowed, realizes how fatal his mistakes were to his family.

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: TW for rape

This is Chapter one. Read on Ao3 here

"Dear Uncle Aemon,

I write to you this letter with a heavy heart as it has only been hours since the death of my dear wife, Elia. She has passed away from complications that followed the birth of our son, Aegon.

Oh, my wise uncle… your guidance and support would be of great help at this terrible hour. My wife was always of delicate health, and I have many regrets. I regret that, after the birth of our daughter Rhaenys, I hardly waited days before impregnating her again with our son. That must have had a great effect on her health; I should have left her a longer time to recover. I greatly fear that this may have been a cause of her death.

I also regret my lack of vision and my folly at the tourney of Harrenhal. I have hurt my wife's spirit, and I fear that the sorrow had weakened her. The Stark girl had proven a brave warrior as she had donned the helm and plate with the laughing tree on it, and I had wanted to honor her, knowing that I can't present her with any other honor but the flowers; the only award a woman was afforded in a tourney. But after that, the distance between my wife and I grew, and though I explained what had happened to her, she still felt humiliated, and I knew I was in the wrong.

I am now the only parent of my children, Rhaenys and Aegon. Rhaenys didn't get to know her mother long enough, and Aegon, like me, was born in the shadow of death. He will not be celebrated as he deserves to be, and every time someone remembers his birth, it will not be with joy, but with sorrow at the memory of his dutiful mother.

I used to believe that I was the prince that was promised, and then I became certain that he will be one of my children; Aegon, on the night of whose conception, a red comet was seen above King's Landing. And now that a third head of the dragon is required… it has to be Viserys, my poor young brother.

My wife's death has put things into perspective for me. I will no longer put a prophecy ahead of my family. My mother and my brother deserve better; they deserve that I act, and quickly. My children deserve an attentive father, and a loving mother. I will not, however, remarry. Elia was nothing but faithful and dutiful to me, and I respect that very much. The only mother that my children are going to have is mine, Queen Rhaella, their loving grandmother.

When you send a raven in answer to this, it may not find me at Dragonstone. I will sail to Dorne today to return the corpse of my wife to her family, as I'm sure they wouldn't want her to be cremated. My wife was not a Targaryen, I'm well aware of that, but she was very much my family, and I will miss her every day.

Your nephew,

Rhaegar"

When he was finished writing the letter, he scrolled it, poured a dollop of hot red wax on it and sealed it with the three-headed dragon seal. He then called on his guard, posted outside the door, to call the Maester. When his maester came, he handed him the scroll, and said, "To the wall, thank you."

Rhaegar then raised his hand to throw his hair behind his head; a gesture out of habit that was now useless; his hair was gone. After Elia had died, he had a lock of her hair cut, and cut his short, braided her lock with one of his, tied it with a silver ribbon, and put the braid away in a black wooden box with the three-headed dragon engraved on it. What an empty gesture; he thought to himself bitterly. While she lived, I insulted her freely and felt no guilt. And now that she has died, I pretend that we were tied together? We never were, and that was my doing.

He called the servant woman to draw his bath. When she did so and left, he stripped naked, stepped inside it and lay down, letting the hot water cleanse him.

While she was alive, he and Elia were undoubtedly kind to each other. With the exception of that vile public act that he had done at Harrenhal, he was always as civil and kind to her as his mother, the Queen, had taught him. It was not manly, let alone kingly, for a man to be unkind to his lady wife. And so, Rhaegar had always offered her kind words, called her "my lady" or "my princess", and been gentle to her while they were doing their duty in the marriage bed, and she had been every inch a dutiful and graceful princess.

But he had been distant, buried in books and scrolls, torn between a prophecy that he doesn't even know how to fulfill and a father growing more insane by the hour that he needed to depose. He had taken note of everything, built up plans and tore them down and then rebuilt them, and ignored only one thing, the most important thing: His family.

Only rooms away from his precious library, Elia struggled with her health alone. She struggled with her pregnancies alone. She fed Rhaenys and rose her alone. Yes, Rhaegar would show up sometimes to give Rhaenys a toy or play with her and her kitten Balerion, or even to say a few gentle words to Elia and kiss her on the cheek, but otherwise, his absence was deafening.  

It was him who had insisted that they move to Dragonstone, dreary and gloomy as it was, after the wedding to be away from his hateful father. Him who had taken her right away after she had recovered from giving birth to Rhaenys. Him who gave the Queen of Love and Beauty laurel to a little northern girl, declaring in the eyes of the public, that he had favored her over Elia; that she had been prettier and younger and stronger. Why was it that when he decided to show truly up in Elia's life, it was always only to cause her pain?

He lost track of time while he was in the bath. He almost didn't want to get up and put his clothes on. He had already faced Prince Lewyn, naturally, since he was one of his appointed Kingsguard. But Lewyn was not as confrontational as some other Martells will be; he mourned in silence and he and the prince had expressed their sorrow to each other politely. Soon, he would have to meet Doran and Oberyn Martell, and would have to look them in the eyes and tell them how sorry he was that their sister had died, and how sorry he was for insisting that she must get pregnant immediately, and how sorry he was for insulting her publicly, and how sorry he was for….

He heard two knocks on his door, and it was followed by the delicate voice, "Father?"

He answered her without a thought, "Don't enter, I'm coming out, sweetling."

"I'm sorry your grace," he heard his servant lady say, "The princess insisted."

"It's alright. You can leave her."

He put his clothes on and left the bathroom to meet his daughter. "Father!" She ran off to him and reached up, knowing that he would hold her. He did. "Father, they won't tell me where mother went."

"Mother went… to the sea, sweetling." He prevented his voice from breaking with difficulty.

"And when will she return?"

He wondered how much time he should give it until Rhaenys is old enough to understand. "I don't know, it could be months, it could be years. But when she comes, she will have brought you wonders from all over the world. She will bring colorful silks, toys from Essos the like of which children in Westeros have never seen, candy, and she will bring you a dragon egg."

Rhaenys gasped. "Will it hatch into a dragon? A large black dragon, like Balerion the dread?"

Rhaegar almost wanted to chuckle. Rhaenys was obsessed with Balerion. The idea of a large beast that breathes fire and flies, but loves and protects her and those she loves. Years from now, he thought, she will learn what dragons truly do from her maester. She will learn how they destroyed cities, burned their enemies, melted flesh and bone and steel. She will learn of the doom that the attempts to hatch more dragons had brought to House Targaryen.

"Oh, it will. Now let your father alone to put some proper clothes on, we have to be in our ship by noon. You should put something proper on as well. Sharei." He had raised his voice and turned his head to the door to call on his servant woman. She came in.

"Take the princess and dress her in a proper dress," he stressed the word proper, he didn't want to say the word mourning in front of Rhaenys, but he was sure Sharei would understand. "Then have them escort her and Aegon to the ship. I will be joining shortly."

"Yes, your grace."

When they left, Rhaegar donned his fully black outfit; a black doublet, black breeches and a black cape with pins shaped like the three-headed dragon, made of silver. He packed a few of the tomes and scrolls that he had kept close by his bed to accompany him in the nights; those, he insisted on taking with him himself… he would not have his books neglected and torn apart by anyone.

When he arrived in the ship, Rhaenys was already there, dressed in a plain black gown and carried by Lewyn, and Aegon was nowhere to be seen.

"The wet nurse has taken him to his cabin. He was crying to be fed."

Arthur came up from behind him. He had the habit of answering Rhaegar's questions before he asked them; almost reading his mind. Rhaegar gave him a small smile of appreciation. He was always grateful for Arthur's presence. Nothing in the world made things easier like a friend who bore your burdens with you. He walked to the edge of the ship and leaned his elbows on it, staring at the waves. He felt Arthur follow him silently.

"They'll be angry at me," Rhaegar said to him, worry shaking his voice. He knew how he had hurt Elia, and yet he was afraid, most of all, of being confronted about it by her brothers. Not that they would hurt him (though Oberyn definitely wanted to; he knew it) but… their looks at him will be like daggers, their words like spears.

"They will be, but more so sad for her to concern themselves with anger."

"The anger, I deserve. But I'm not sure I can handle it."

"You have handled worse."

He looked at Arthur thinking of an answer, but he was stopped by the look on his face. Arthur had pursed his lips and turned his eyes away from Rhaegar's face. "What?" Rhaegar asked him.

"Hmm?"

"You always purse your lips and look away from me when there's something you want to say, but don't know if you can say it. Go ahead."

"Well, it isn't something I want to say…" Arthur looked at the sea below, and a feeling unlike what Rhaegar expected was on his face: Anger.

"News keep coming from King's Landing every day, from Oswell. Says your father… hasn't been very kind to your lady mother."

Rhaegar felt his fist closing. "What do you mean?"

"The other week, he burned a knight he had suspected of treason. After that…" Arthur took a deep breath, "he went to her grace's chamber and took her by force. He says her ladies whisper of scratches on her, and bites."

His stomach churned. He felt his breaths coming out of his lungs like fire. He didn't know what to say.

"You need to do something about him, quickly." They were whispering now.

"Right now, what I want to do is put him on a pyre and watch him burn."

"Rhae, you know what I mean."

Rhae. Only Arthur, Elia and his mother called him that. He didn't have to save Arthur, he couldn't save Elia, but he will save his mother. "I will. I promise. I meet with Prince Doran in days… perhaps the end to my father's terror is coming sooner than we think."

"I hope so. You will look good on that throne." Rhaegar was no longer paying attention; his brain now had that map table on Dragonstone sprawled over it; he was now doing calculations; weighing names, thinking of allies and foes…

"Oh, by the way, Rhaenys keeps talking about a dragon."

Arthur had gotten back Rhaegar's attention by mentioning her name. "A dragon?"

"A dragon egg that her mother will bring from overseas, and from it, will hatch Balerion The Dread himself come again." A sad look was on Arthur's face now. "We understand. Prince Lewyn even started talking to her of the candy that Elia will bring from Essos. Candied plums and raisins and all manner of cakes and pies and dried fruits covered in sugar. She can still be a child."

"The move to King's Landing has to come soon, Arthur. For my children. They can only have one mother now, and that is Queen Rhaella."

"My sister Ashara is doing her best. Though she says she was not fashioned for motherhood, and her grief sometimes overpowers her and she prevents herself from crying while speaking to Rhaenys. She looks very much like her mother."

Rhaegar was silent; he felt a node form at the back of his throat.

"It's you who doesn't look like you anymore," Arthur said, in a bemused voice, "I've yet to get used to the short hair."

[imyourliquor-youremypoison]

Fic tag game

Tagged by my wonderful @reivenesque <3

Rules: list the first lines of your last 10 stories. see if there are any patterns. then tag some of your favorite authors!

Too Close For Comfort (Stiles x Reader) Not posted yet (but soon!)

You know what really sucks when your brother is a werewolf? Everything.

And that doesn't even come close to reality, (Y/N)'s life has become so much more difficult since Scott was bitten by Peter. Having an asthmatic twin brother whose main concern in life was to pass his math class was boring, but it was safe and (Y/N) had the privilege of being the most extra of the two – ah good times ! But then of course Scott's asthma became a thing of the past, added to his new found super strength and speed, his popularity went from zero to ten real quick, leaving (Y/N) in the dust, far behind him.

In The Name of Love (Peter Pan x Reader)

"Who are you?" A voice asked behind you, causing your eyes to snap open with a start.

The cold had paralyzed your bones. You didn't know how much time had passed since you set foot on this shore but it was freezing and there was no food or people for what you could see. That didn't prevent you from sleeping with a knife hidden in your clothes. Well, clothes was a big word, for you were only wearing small chunks of ripped material, revealing almost as much as if you weren't wearing anything, but at least your skin wasn't in direct contact with the cold stone on which you decided to take a nap before investigating the jungle to see if there was a living soul here.

Seems like there was after all, and they found you first. The manly voice came from behind you and in a split second you jumped on your feet, ignoring the pain in your articulations and pulling the knife out, holding it right against the stranger's throat, the tip digging in his skin.

"I see," he said evasively, way too calm for someone you had a knife at his throat.

Great Minds Think Alike (Jughead x OC)

The first time Iris entered the small town of Riverdale, she thought she had just stumbled upon the most boring place on earth and gave a desperate look to her dad as soon as she saw the ridiculously low number of people who lived here under the Welcome to Riverdale sign.

Pleast Don’t (Newt x Reader)

“No!” Heather said sternly, putting both of her hands in front of her, preventing Minho from coming closer. “Nononono! Don’t you dare!”

The boy took a step forward, his hands still holding the small creature. He had caught a spider and was running after the girl with it, almost dying from laughter every time she let out a squeal and ran away.

“C’mon Heath! The small beast ain’t eating the big one!” He teased her, making her jump back when he approached. Heather shivered from disgust and huffed.

“Put that thing away from me, I’m not kiddin’ Minho!” The threatening finger she pointed at him didn’t seem to bother him much and his smile grew wider. “I will put a bloody Beetle Blade in your hammock tonight if you take another step!” He simply rolled his eyes, not scared for a second.

“How can such a pretty mouth swear like yours? You’re spending too much time with Newt,” Minho scoffed, the spider still struggling to escape from the fingers.

The World is Vast (Thomas Brodie-Sangster x Reader)

The clicking of your heels on the ground was the only sound breaking the silence of the night. You dived your hands in the pockets of your jacket to keep you warm and hurried a bit to get home quickly. London. What a beautiful city, even at night. Apart from some groups of friends going out for the night and the sound of cabs, it was completely still. It might seem a little creepy to be out there on your own when you’re a girl and you just arrived in a new city, but not to you. You found that oddly calming and reassuring. As if the world allowed you to have a break and appreciate silence and just think. You moved to London two weeks ago. You couldn’t even count how many times a stranger in a bar – sometimes even more than one in a night – asked you why you moved here. The truth is, there is no reason. You were just sick of where you used to live, you needed change. And something – though you haven’t found it yet – was drawing you here.

Restaurant Dates Are the Worst! (Seb Stan x Reader)

You looked around you, scrutinizing your surroundings, letting your eyes wander on the walls, the chandeliers, the dark-red faux velvet chairs next to the bar section of the restaurant – you looked anywhere but at the man sitting across from you, ungracefully shoving his spaghetti into his mouth all the while talking to you.

The reason why you hated dates just came rushing back to you but it was too late to back down now, you said yes – God knows why – and you showed up to this restaurant where your date told you to come.

Break the Walls (Michael Clifford x OC)

Honestly, Michael thought he was hallucinating when he saw her. He remembered blinking a few times, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head, but regardless of what he did, she didn’t vanish in the air. Her name popped in his mind the second he laid his eyes on her, though he hadn’t her of her for over two years. For Christ’s sake, his High School crush was just across from the street! She still looked the same. Her hair seemed a little longer, but she still sported a side cut some strands of hair were tied into small braids which she used to tie it into a ponytail. It was still dyed in that crazy pastel pink fashion. There was a cigarette tucked between her lips, and she had these huge dark circles under her eyes. That was something new.

Off Limits (Chris Schistad x OC)

Some things are simply not meant to be. Even when people maximized their chances by doing everything in their power to achieve their goal, it wasn’t always enough. Like in this maddening scene in Titanic where Jack can’t get on the floating door, and after everything he has gone through to be with Rose, he just dies. Well, maybe this was a little bit dramatic, chances are you won’t die in real life, you will just be really, really frustrated because all your efforts are thrown into the trash. But she was drifting from the subject.

Somehow, Mara’s brother had befriended the one guy who was simultaneously the absolute worst and the best thing that has ever happened to her. William and Chris were inseparable friends since- since always. As far as her memory goes, Chris has always been in their lives. He was like family to a certain extent – and that was precisely her problem.

Let Us Live (Peter Pan x Reader)

A strange and quite unusual unrest reigned in the camp and the lost boys whispered questions to one another, wondering what was happening. Most of them just wanted to go back to sleep, while some refused to fall asleep not knowing what the reason for all this fuss was. The low whispers suddenly stopped mid-sentence when Felix walked past the group of sleepy boys. His features were twisted in an ungraceful displeased frown and his entire aura screamed ‘shut the fuck up or you’ll regret it’. A heavy silence settled in until his figure disappeared in the night, but his destination was clear: he was heading towards Pan’s shack. The wooden door creaked open, making it impossible for him to enter without being noticed. Not that it was a problem for Pan was wide awake, looking as indifferent as usual even though Felix out of all the boys was the one capable of telling when he just pulled that face as a facade. This was one of those moments. “It’s been two days Pan,” Felix stated, clicking his tongue as a mean of punctuation. “I know,” Peter growled, glaring towards the boy as if saying 'tell me something i don’t know’. The blond boy almost expected him to continue but Peter kept quiet. “Where is she?” Felix asked.

Take Me Away (Luke Hemmings x Reader)

Tonight’s sky was dark and starless, and the moon remained hidden behind the invisible clouds hovering above her head. If it wasn’t for the streetlights, she would be swallowed by darkness. Right now, it felt like she could disappear in the night, in a snap. Her pace increased slightly when she began to move her short legs faster, her arms tightly holding herself, as if she was trying not to fall apart, and her arms were the last thing preventing her from bursting out of her skin. Wiping her hair to the side, the girl looked up, still searching for a star – just one – but the sky stayed oddly murky. Now that she was looking up she stopped walking. Her head tilted backwards and her small frame made everything look bigger than it actually was, and trees suddenly seemed to reach the sky. Silence was everywhere and it filled her. Taking a deep breath felt like the best thing to do. If she was sure not to get hit by a car, she would have laid in the middle of the road, just because it seemed to be cool in the movies and she always wanted to do that. Looking over her shoulder, her gaze landed on the empty road, then she listened closely for a couple of seconds, but there still was no sound to be heard except for the faint music in the distance. It shined like the entire town was sleeping. But something made her continue her way, shaking her head as she walked away and forgot about this stupid idea. Maybe it was better like that, she didn’t need to be careless to enjoy herself.

Right ?

Okay so now I realize most of my writings have shitty beginnings expect maybe for one or two of them haha *starts crying*

I tag @s-kamimagines @kingpendleton @betty-coopers-number-one-stan @mrsjugheadjonesthethird @protectjugheadjonesiii @imaginebucky @malumshighlight @that-sokovian-bastard @lets-imagine-fanfics  @robbie-kay-peter-pan-imagines

[jay-and-dean]

I don’t need you  Chapter 7 : Borderline Villains

Dean x reader

Summary : She’s a warrior, she’s a loner. Nothing can stop her, nothing ever had. She doesn’t need Dean, does she ?

This is a request by @magssteenkamp​ that I decided to turn to a serie, see the original request on the serie Masterlist.

Serie Warnings : Swearing (duh). Mention of death. Smut, probably all kind from rough to fluffy, I’ll precise in the chapters if there are specific warnings. Fluff. Angst of course.

Chapter warnings : Swearing. Angst. Implied smut. Fluff

Words : almost 3k

Note : I’ll try to stick to the 3k rule, like for Rescue You

I thank @roonyxx​ because I would never have made it without her. She kept me motivated when I was exhausted and discouraged. And for the calculations... 

If everything goes as planned, you’ll get one chapter every wednesday (Thanks to @magssteenkamp, I call it WednesJay, lol. Sorry okay, I shut up).

***Want to read more ? => MASTERLIST***

*** I don’t need you MASTERLIST***

_________________________________

             7. BORDERLINE VILLAINS

 Reader's Pov

             My fingers hurts from gripping Dean's belt so hard, and my throat is sore from holding back screams.

           I'm panting, focused on him still inside of me, on his shaking sweaty palms under my spread thighs.

           I want him there forever...

           I fight against this thought with all my brain but the truth is I really want him right there for the rest of my life. And it's not my brain asking for this... Just being one with him, his lips on my neck, his arms holding me tight. Like nothing could happen to me, like everything was right for once.

           And his smell.

           The crush kid-me had on him evolved, despite my will to curb it. And I have to admit now that it's not just about the hero... But about the man. This is terrifying.

"Y/n" he whispers in my ear, like he was asking me to be with him and I close my eyes at his voice resonating in my core.

He's softening inside of me and, deep down, I want to cling to him. But I have to let him go... I can't take that risk.

           I look down, his scruff tickling me, and see the gun on the ground, sighing. When he puts a shy kiss on my collarbone, I finally find the strength to push him.

           I can't get attached to Dean.

           Because close is dangerous. Because he would be so disappointed if he could see me, stabbing humans in the chest, cutting throats like a serial killer. Bad men I'm killing... but still people.

           And Dean is not a man of one woman, I know that, I have read the books about his life a hundred times, studied him, I have seen him flirt without even realizing it during the hunts. Who could be enough for a man like that ? No one deserves Dean Winchester for them alone.

           I know myself. That's what a lot of lonely times does to a person, that's what being confronted to your limits does. I do know Y/n... And I know that give in to Dean would mean love.

           I can't do that. Not love. It would break me.

"Move" I say low.

He takes a deep breath and withdraws, his cum dripping from me like the world was telling me it was too late to not get my heart too close to fire.

           He puts me on my legs cautiously and searches my face, but I avoid his eyes, trying not to look too cold, but inaccessible in a way, to make him understand.

"That was really hot" I state, bending to reach my pants. "You're... really good at this" I try to compliment him.

"Good at this" he repeats, stern.

"Yeah" I whisper, feeling like I could  suddenly cry at the hint of hurt crossing his manly face.

"Good at this" he says again, like he was trying to digest my words, putting his cock back in his pants, and closing his belt harshly. "Can we talk ?"

"About what, Dean ?" I shrug, my armor getting thicker.

"About us" his green eyes hitching on me, he sighs.

"There is no 'us'. Don't..."

He nods, biting his lower lip, his eyebrows slightly raised.

"Yes..." he sighs.

Adjusting his flannel, he poses a second, still looking at me, and finally turns to leave.

 Dean's Pov

             I could kill her right now. I could...

           I rub my face on the parking, not wanting to go back to Sam and I's room right away. I don't want to face my brother and I don't want to see that stupid bedroom again.

           I just want to scream, and fucking kill her ! My anger is making my blood boil and I have to stop myself from running back to her room three times.

           Why do I even care ? She doesn't want me, she doesn't care. She's a good friend and an awesome hunter, it should be enough. The only one I can blame is me.

Talk about us.

Stupid !

How desperate do I sound now, huh ? What would I have said anyway ? It's not like we were going to, I don't know, date ? I can't have a relationship, and it was always fine like that. And Y/n... She's not like the others, she's not someone you can bring home to cuddle, she's not someone you can own or tame.

           Y/n is wild. And even if she was not...

She doesn't like you. Not because you have those... damn feelings !

"Stupid !" I groan, hitting the wheel of Baby with my foot.

           What do I do now ? What am I supposed to do ? I can't forget us, she lives with us... I can't seduce her, I can't have her, I can't let her break me. And when she decides to go, I won't hold her back.

           She will leave. She will.

           Maybe I just need to be a good friend. Stop whining and be a friend... I admire her, and I really like her being around, so I will just take that, and suffocate those unrequited feelings that are making me crazy.

           I have no right to be angry.

             I enter the room and avoid Sam's eyes when I go to the shower. I can feel his glare on me but I don't want questions, I don't want him to ask me if we "talked"... He called her a time bomb...

Well guess what Sammy, my heart just exploded.

 ***

             The victim is talking to Y/n, she saw her friend being hunted by a weird man with claws and sharp teeth... She is in shock and shaking. But somehow, Y/n makes her calmer, like magic ; and she does with a softness I wish I could seen in her eyes when she looks at me.

           But it is not going to happen, because she barely looks at me anyway since that evening three days ago.

           I can't help but wondering : Did I hurt her ? We were rough and wild. Or did I scare her ? How could I... She was the one holding a loaded gun to my head. No... She just regrets it.

           Simple and hurtful regret.

           Sam is staring at her like he was trying to understand how she can be so fierce, and so sweet. She just can, she just is. Both leather corset and Hocus Pocus t-shirt. She's a kid that grew up too fast, she built defenses no one can really understand, but her heart is still all new and shiny under it, too sensible behind the walls.

           Walking to us, she bites her lips anxiously and I can tell she's sincerely pained by the young girl grief.

"She said it was before midnight" she states. "She's absolutely sure. Sorry Sam, it doesn't match. Maybe we should just... take a little break ? You guys look exhausted. I say we go eat something, and we take turns to sleep. Sam you need a nap, I'll keep searching okay ?"

When I'm about to decline her offer, my brother sighs, and accepts, admitting he's so tired his head hurts.

"We've been hunting for months, I really think we need a serious break after this one. Dean you look like crap" he says and I chuckle.

"Thank you Sammy, always a pleasure."

             The room is silent, and I would appreciate the calm if my heart wasn't resonating so hard in my skull.

           Sam went to sleep a little, giving us a thousand orders, and Y/n wrote everything down, winking at me. I understood later that she just wanted him to be relaxed enough to sleep, so she made him think everything was going to be exactly like he wanted to while he was resting...

           She's focused on her screen, reading something with a light frown, now and then writing down something on a notebook she bought a few days ago. And it makes me think of all those notebooks she had.

"When did you start writing on notebooks ?" I break the silence, clearly surprising her.

"I... uhm" she hesitates a second, then dive her eyes deep inside mine. "I had no laptop when I was... when I had no home. So in my bag I could only fit a notebook... Later it kinda became I don't know, a habit ?" she chuckles lightly, almost OCD if you want my opinion."

"It is an awesome idea, my dad's journal saved my life more times that I can count" I smile shyly.

"Yeah... well" a sad look appears on her face. "Your dad's journal didn't burn. When I think I could have saved everything if it was a numeric file..."

"I'm sorry" I sigh, not knowing what else to say.

"It's life" she shrugs. "And I'm used to lose everything at once."

I swallow hard, her words hurting me right in the chest, getting up to get two beers and a few snacks. Handing one to her, I dare :

"How long ?"

She looks up at me before I sit again, closing the book in front of me to make her understand I really intend to talk now. She always thinks she has to be by herself, she doesn't, she has friends now, she has me, and if I can't be anything else than that, at least I'm going to be a good friend.

"What ?" she takes a sip of her fresh beer.

"How long did you stay alone in the street ?"

She freezes, looking down for a minute, playing with the label of her beer, like there was anything to be ashamed of. There isn't.

"After my parents died... When I was 12. I... I tried to get out of the city to join that aunt I heard of in Main, my father used to say she was a nice person. I had never seen her but I knew her name" As I listen, I sit back in my chair, giving her all my attention. "I didn't want to go to a children home, because I knew cops would interrogate me... and, well I also knew vampires controlled some cops."

The more she speaks, the more she looks like that beautiful woman that got up in the middle of the night in her apartment with her messy hair. She pushes some strands out of her face and takes a shaky breath, still not looking at me.

"But, yeah, the vampires were looking for me, and of course, everyone was. The daughter of the murdered couple had disappeared, my face was everywhere. That stupid picture of me sitting on the couch with my Nintendo..." she shakes her head like remembering that picture was making her uncomfortable. So I hid. It was... really pathetic, Dean, nothing was heroic about it."

She takes another sip of her beer, closing the zipper of her hoodie, like she subconsciously needed to hide.

"Time passed. People concluded I was dead, and my face disappeared from the streets. The first year I didn't have enough money to go to Main anyway... Why am I telling you all that ?" she sighs.

"Please, you know everything about me because of those books, just... tell me a little more" I almost plea, and she bites her lip.

"The next years, I just thought it was better for my aunt too, if I stayed dead. Thanks to the Supernatural books, I knew about hunters... It was a book, but has vampires existed for real, why not hunters ? It took me years to find signs of their existence. When Joe..." she swallows hard, holding back tears. "When Joe found me turning around the bar like a stray cat and offered me food, then that first job, I was eighteen. It saved me from the cold and the hunger. I couldn't work with alcohol but he trusted me to clean after he closed the bar. Hunters didn't ever acknowledge me. But at some point, I asked about you, you know..."

"Really ?" I raise my eyebrows, my own voice annoyingly interrupting her story.

"Yes... Th-they told me to forget about you, they said you were dead 'again' after fighting leviathans."

When I really thought talking about her parents death, or Joe's would be what crushes her, she wipes a tears saying that.

"Y/n" I say getting closer cautiously, my chair aware that this could make her close totally for good. "I... I came back."

But she doesn't close, her wet eyes finally come up to mine and search my face.

"You don't understand Dean. You were the... the hope. I used to hold on to those books and sleep with them against me like a bible" her voice breaks. "And the very second I learn my hero actually exist for real... they tell me you are dead."

I put my hand on hers, holding back tears ; my brain suddenly randomly realizing she's way younger than me, I never actually thought of it.

"It's..." I try but what to say after that ?

"That's when I understood if I needed a hero, I had to become one, and only count on myself."

I lower my head, my heart pounding in my chest, still convinced that any faux pas could make her shut me out completely.

"That's why you can't... grow attached to anyone..." I dare.

 Reader's Pov

             His hand is sending shivers in my spine, and his words hit me like a fucking train.

"Among other reasons, yes" I whisper, my emotions strangling me. "But yeah... Look what happened to Joe..."

I wish I could push him away, tell him to leave me... But the strength irradiating of him is wrapping me like reading books used to. I feel both safer and exposed...

"What reasons ?" he asks after a while, like he was weighting his words.

Dean is not someone that usually insists on talking, so I guess he really wants to understand something.

"Dean... Your brother is right... I'm a time bomb" I free my hand from his. "Not the fun kind. I... I get angry."

"I get angry too" he states, serious.

"Dean... listen. You said killing humans was the definition of monsters..." I swallow and take a deep breath. "Then I am just that."

"Me too... you and me... we're borderline villains" his index finds my chin and lifts it to make me look at his face.

I just can't get used to how beautiful he is.

"Sam did researches on you, Y/n... With help and a witch friend... he found some things, and a trail of human monster corpses in your wake... We watched who you killed and... I'm so sorry you had to face all of this so young... Who would I be if I told you that you should have bought them to justice ? Violence brings violence..."

My heart falls from my throat and I nod.

           He knew. I knew and he's telling me that he would have done the same... Suddenly, the high walls around my soul fall apart and I burst in tears.

           He quickly bends and wraps his arms around me tightly.

"I'm not in Purgatory... I'm not in books, I exist... I'm right here, Y/n. I'll stay here. I'm so sorry you were confronted with all that sick crap so young..."

I cling to him, hiding in his neck to cry, my hands fisting his flannel like my life depends on it. His palms are flat on my back, and it feels like he was holding me together.

           The door suddenly opens, and I slightly jump, but Dean puts a protective hand on my head and I know I have nothing to fear.

"We will be here in a few, Sammy" Dean says softly.

"N-no problem..." Sam stammers and clears his throat. "Rowena found something on the vampires but you take your time."

"Okay, thank you" my hero says, still holding me.

           The door closes and I let go for a second to wipe my face, afraid to soak his skin with tears.

"Y/n..." he catches my eyes.

And before I can see it coming, his soft plum lips slowly crushes on mine, my salty tears wetting both our lips.

           I close my eyes and forget with kisses are too important. Nothing is really important anymore. So I let him kiss me, his lips tasting mine shyly...

Too late for not falling in love.

________________________

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