#Doc n Bobby

[frigginconfused]

[grayloch]

Bobby for Girl's Week 2023, I didnt draw her last year because im always drawing her but honestly I'll probably draw her every year from here on out, why fight my love for her

[punkshort]

somewhere to run | 6. the confession

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Joel finds out the truth and convinces you to press charges.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, PTSD type symptoms, mutual pining, domestic violence and SA (discussed after the fact), mental and physical abuse, detailed conversations about DV and SA (I didn't get too descriptive about the SA but I do use the R word a couple times) please let me know if I missed anything because there is a lot going on here

WC: 9K

A/N: as the title implies, we are going to get more details about what happened to reader in this one so once again, please heed the warnings and don't read if you think it will be triggering for you. I tried not to be too graphic.

Series Masterlist

Joel could hardly sleep that night. Instead of going to the station, he headed home so he could be with Sarah. She wondered why he got home so early from his date, but he dodged the question and the two of them worked together in silence - Sarah on her homework, Joel on his incident report. When she asked him why he was working from home, he just shook his head and said something came up. She was a smart girl. She knew something was bothering him, but she didn't push it and he was grateful.

He tossed and turned all night, his mind reeling while he looked at his phone every few minutes. He checked the volume, he made sure do not disturb was off, wondering if you would reach out, but you never did. Maybe it wasn't unusual for Patrick to not come home. Or maybe you heard what happened and you were mad at Joel. That worried him the most. The fear that his actions might have destroyed what fragile relationship he had left with you ate him up as he stared blankly at his ceiling.

Morning came too quickly and too slowly all at once. He rubbed his tired eyes as he dragged himself into the bathroom. When he leaned forward to turn the water on, he was met with a sharp pain in his chest. He glanced down, rubbing the area tenderly and realized a large bruise was forming from his fight the night before. He winced when he pressed on a particularly sensitive spot and tried his best to avoid the area during his shower.

After he dropped Sarah off at school, he headed into work, his heart beginning to beat faster the closer he got to the station. He had no doubt in his mind the whole town knew what happened last night, but he was too tired and too overwhelmed to care about their curious questions and senseless gossip.

When he walked in, he breezed right past Helen's desk with a curt nod, doing his best to avoid all eye contact until he was within the safety of his office. He booted up his ancient computer and waited, his thumb rubbing mindlessly against his lower lip as he stared out his window.

He would go to the diner today. He already decided he had to see you. The radio silence was killing him and he needed to make sure you were okay. He was embarrassed about the Facebook messages, even more so that you weren't the one to read them, but Patrick was right. They were not innocent. The words held more weight than they appeared, but he had to come to terms with the fact that you were not his, and then maybe with some closure, he would be able to move on.

The morning dragged on slowly. Bobby caught him at the coffee maker, already working on his third cup, depending solely on the caffeine to help keep him going.

"Hey, boss. You look like shit, but not as bad as him," Bobby said, pouring himself more coffee and jutting his chin to the back of the building where the holding cells were located.

"Feel like shit," Joel mumbled, leaning against the counter and taking a sip from his mug.

"Think you broke his nose," Bobby added, finally looking up at him. "Called the doc but turns out he's real busy this mornin', won't be able to come by til after hours. Such a damn shame," he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Joel understood what he was saying without him having to say it. The people in this town looked out for one another and didn't take kindly to a stranger hurting one of their own. They were leaving Patrick to deal with his injuries longer than necessary.

"I don't think I broke anythin', he did that all on his own chargin' into that table," Joel said, but Bobby shook his head.

"Not the way he tells it," he replied with a chuckle. "You'd think you nearly killed him, the way he's been whinin' back there."

"No doubt lookin' for a lawsuit," Joel said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Don't worry, boss. You got a bar full'a witnesses. Hank already offered to give a statement and he was probably the only sober one there."

"Yeah, good. Thanks," Joel replied, pushing off the counter to head back to his office, trying to ignore the sideways glances of the men watching him from the bullpen. He shook his mouse and grimaced when he saw an email from the mayor looking to set up a meeting with him that week to discuss the incident. He knew he did nothing wrong, but the more attention this brought him, the worse he felt. Eventually, all of that talk would make its way back to you and Sarah, the truth most likely getting distorted along the way. He made a mental note to have a talk with his daughter that night as he slowly typed out a response to the mayor.

He swore he would try to get some actual work done, but he ended up spending more time staring out the window or at his phone, watching the minutes tick by til it was lunchtime and he could see you. Maybe he could pull you aside and talk to you in private. Maybe he could fix this.

The moment the clock read a reasonable hour, he jumped up from his seat and snatched his blazer from the coat hook, rolling his shoulders as he walked and put it on, then stifling a grunt when he felt a muscle in his chest pull from the effort.

He kept his head down as he walked down the street towards the diner, only glancing up once when he passed the pizza place. Your curtains were still drawn, no lights on that he could see, no sign of life.

A few people called out to him as he passed, but all he could muster was a tight smile and quick wave, not in the mood to get wrapped up into any conversations.

When he swung the door open, his eyes immediately went to the counter, searching you out but only finding Betty. Before he had a chance to look around the dining room, he heard María greet him.

"Where the hell were you last week?"

"I was here Friday," he muttered, looking around and avoiding her eyes.

"Yeah, with Nikki. Heard some stuff about that-"

"Is she here?" Joel asked, finally dragging his gaze to meet Maria's. She frowned and shook her head.

"No, she called in sick," Maria said, watching him carefully. "Joel, what's going on with you two? People are saying stuff about you and her husband, and-"

"She's sick?" Joel repeated, panic beginning to bubble to the surface. Maria nodded and shrugged.

"Yeah, people get sick, Joel. Hey! Where are you going?"

Joel didn't reply, he just hurried out the doors, nearly knocking down a middle aged couple as they were about to walk inside. He mumbled an apology as he jogged down the street towards your place.

Something was wrong.

Your eye cracked open when you heard the doorbell, the heavy thudding in your head making you immediately nauseous. You groaned and squeezed your eyes shut, rolling back under the covers. Maybe if you were quiet, Patrick would think you were at work and he would leave. But the bell kept ringing, the sound pinging around in your brain making the headache you already had so much worse.

When he began pounding on the door and shouting from the street, you dragged yourself out of bed and wrapped yourself in a thin robe. You knew your body couldn't take much more, but letting him in would be better than allowing him to make a scene in front of the whole town, so you forced your feet forward, still limping from the day before.

You had to pause in the doorway to catch your breath as you clutched your side, wincing in pain as you tried to gingerly walk down the steps, but you were taking too long and he just kept pounding and shouting and the all noise was making you sick.

"Stop," you called out weakly, not convinced he would even hear you, but miraculously he did because the noise finally ceased, and you sighed a small breath of relief.

Shakily, you reached out to grip the doorknob, your fingers fumbling with the locks until you finally managed to twist the brass handle, opening the door just a sliver, worried people walking by would see your face. Then, unexpectedly, you heard Joel's voice instead of Patrick's say your name softly and before you could peer around the door, you went to quickly shut it with no success. His hand gripped the door tightly, but you held firm, hiding behind the wood.

"You shouldn't be here," you told him, your voice weak and broken.

"I know you're mad at me but I gotta talk to you 'bout what happened," he said from the other side. "Please let me in."

Unbeknownst to you both, you were talking about two different things.

"If he finds you here... no, you have to leave," you said, pushing the door again, but he didn't budge.

"Patrick?" he questioned, sounding confused.

"Yes, Patrick," you rasped, getting dizzy from exerting so much energy in your weakened state. "Please just go."

"He's in jail, did - no one told you?" he asked quietly, trying to keep his voice down.

"Jail?" you repeated, and your grip on the door loosened in surprise. Joel felt it and took the opportunity to open it further. You stepped back quickly, wrapping the robe around you tighter and trying to fidget with your hair to hide the marks, but you knew it was pointless the moment you saw his face after closing the door behind him.

"What the fuck?" he whispered, his jaw dropping as his eyes slowly raked over your face, neck and arms. Your lip was swollen and cut, the scab breaking open and beginning to weep the more you spoke. Your cheekbone had a light purple bruise blooming under your skin, as did your jaw. There was a small gash near your hairline and what looked like scratch marks down your neck, leading past your collar bone and below your robe. When you shakily brought your hands up to cover your face in shame, he saw the dark bruises on your wrists.

"Oh my god," he whispered, unable to bring his voice any louder. When he reached out, you flinched away and he felt like he had been stabbed in the chest.

"You should go," you said quietly, your eyes pinned to the ground.

"I can't," he said in utter disbelief. "I can't... why didn't you call me?"

You looked like you were about to reply but decided against it and instead still kept your gaze averted.

"C'mon, lemme take you upstairs and get a look at you," he said, reaching out again, but you stumbled backwards, nearly falling onto the steps.

"Please don't touch me," you told him, holding up a hand, and he nodded.

"Okay, I won't touch you," he said, trying to remain calm while his heart was breaking. "Let's just go upstairs, alright?"

Reluctantly, you agreed and slowly ascended the steps, Joel following dutifully behind. He ushered you over to the couch, making sure you were seated before he went to your bathroom, rummaging around in your medicine cabinet while you sat there, your face buried in your palms and trying not to cry.

He came back into the living room, trying not to make you feel worse by hiding his reaction, but it was hard. He swallowed and dropped his eyes to the assortment of first aid items in his hands.

"Did you take anything for the pain?" he asked, his voice thick, his throat tight.

"Not today, no," you admitted softly. He nodded and shook out two white pills from a bottle and handed them to you before getting you some water. While safely in the kitchen where you couldn't see him, he let out a shaky breath and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to calm himself down. How could this happen? How didn't he see it? He should have checked on you earlier. He never should have fucking let you leave with Patrick yesterday. Guilt racked his brain as he exhaled slowly and went back to you in the living room.

"Here," he said, handing you the bottle of water. You took it and popped the pills in your mouth, wincing as you swallowed them down.

He sat down on the couch next to you but was sure to give you your space as he picked up the antiseptic and some gauze.

"Will you let me?" he asked, holding up the items in his hand. You paused and looked at them, then him. His eyes were wide and soft and shiny with unshed tears. Slowly, you nodded and watched as he twisted off the cap and put some of the antiseptic on the gauze, first pressing it gently against the gash on your forehead, then making a fresh one for your lip.

At first, he dabbed at the cut gently, ghosting over your skin as if he were afraid. But then he brought his other hand up to caress your chin, his fingers feather-like and so careful that it made your eyes flutter shut, his touch unlike anything you were used to. When you finally opened your eyes again, his hands were gone and he was staring at you, the look in his eyes morphing from sadness to one you were much more familiar with.

"I'm gonna fuckin' kill him," he said menacingly, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Don't," you said, shaking your head, but his eyes darkened and his jaw was set.

"Why didn't you tell me, sweetheart? I could've done somethin'. I could've-"

"What? What could you have done, Joel? I've heard it all before," you told him, your lip trembling. "I've tried. Believe me, I've tried. And it never works. Nothing ever changes and it just gets worse."

Joel shook his head, still not understanding.

"I'm a cop, I coulda protected you. There's laws in place for this kinda thing."

"I've gone to the cops, Joel! More than once! And they all told me the same shit!" you exclaimed, getting worked up now. "Then I go home, and magically my statement goes missing, or my medical exam report, and I'm in worse shape than before because guess what? It makes him really fucking mad when his buddies on the force find out what he does to his wife at home."

Joel's lips parted as he watched your chest heave for breath, the energy quickly draining from your frail body.

"I... I'm so sorry," was all he could say. He couldn't blame you for not trusting anyone, especially him, now that he finally knew the truth. Everything was starting to make sense. His guilt was pulling him down and he felt like he was drowning in it. So many things he should have done. Should have seen. He should have helped you but instead he trotted Nikki in front of you to make you feel even worse.

"I can really help you, though. I ain't like that," he said, scooting a little closer to you.

"I've heard that before, too," you said sadly, dropping your gaze to the ground. "There's no getting out of this. I thought by running I could try to start over, but it's clear now he will never let me go." You closed your eyes as two tears fell down your cheeks. You wiped them away angrily, hating yourself for being so weak all the time.

Joel felt his chest squeeze, his heart breaking as he watched you fall apart. He needed to do something. He couldn't let you down. You needed to get out of this, or else it could cost you your life.

"Look at me," he said, waiting until your tears slowed and you forced your eyes open. "I promise I'll help you. I fuckin' promise you, alright? You ain't in Pennsylvania, I ain't his buddy, and I will do whatever I gotta do to keep you safe."

You searched his face, eyes all wide and your heart sliced open, lying on the table between you. You've been let down so many times, it was so hard to tell when anyone was being truthful anymore, but you couldn't deny what you felt for him. And what he felt for you. You knew something was there, something real and honest and pure. He wouldn't have any reason to lie to you at this point, so after a moment, you nodded.

"Okay," you whispered, and you could see the relief flood his face.

He sat back on the couch and rubbed his chin in thought, staring at the TV screen across from him that wasn't even on while the gears in his tired head worked overtime.

"Alright," he finally said, slapping his knees and standing up from the couch. "First things first: you gotta get to a doctor."

You immediately recoiled and shook your head.

"Absolutely not."

"I'm sorry, but you have to. I gotta..." he trailed off and chewed the inside of his cheek before pushing onward. "I gotta have a doctor take pictures."

Your face instantly crumpled and you buried your face in your hands once again.

"I'm sorry," he whispered for what felt like the hundredth time, getting down on one knee to be eye level with you. "But in order for this to work, they gotta record evidence, okay?"

"Joel, I can't," you whimpered, your face still covered, but he nodded and caressed the side of your head with his palm.

"Yes, you can. I'll be right there, okay? Unless you don't want me there, but I'll go with you if you want. Or I'll wait outside the door. Whatever you need, I'll do it. I'm gonna get you outta this."

You sniffled and finally dropped your hands to your lap, your gaze finding his.

"This is the last time, I promise you," he said, staring deep into your eyes. "I'll never let him near you again."

You thought his words over for a moment, the two of you sitting in silence, looking at the other. One trying to earn trust, the other trying to give it. Finally, you closed your eyes and nodded, giving your consent for what was to come.

"Okay," Joel said softly, dropping his hand from your face and standing up to pull out his phone.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm lookin' up the number of a doctor I trust. She's a woman, too. She's real nice and sensitive. I've used her for a couple cases in the past," he said, finding the number and dialing it, bringing the phone up to his ear. Cases. You couldn't help but feel like just another victim the way he said it, even though he didn't mean it that way. You listened as he spoke to her over the phone in a hushed tone, not giving too much of your information away but insisting it was an urgent matter. When he hung up, he turned to you with a weak smile.

"She can see you this afternoon."

"Oh," you said, glancing down at your appearance. You weren't expecting to leave the house that day and you weren't sure what to do.

"It's okay," he said, sitting down next to you again and resting his hand on your knee. "I'll take you through the backdoor of her office, no one'll see you. She'll be fast."

You nodded and looked up at him.

"Maybe I should shower," you said. He paused and shifted his gaze away.

"You, uh," he cleared his throat and rubbed his forehead with the pads of his fingers. He knew this would come up, one way or another. "I don't mean to get into too much detail, but if he..." Joel trailed off, finding it difficult to finish his sentence. "If he did more than hit you, you shouldn't shower," he finally choked out, unable to look you in the eye.

You froze, finally understanding what he meant. He kept his eyes fixed on the wall, his neck tensing, his nostrils flaring, as he waited for your response.

"I won't shower, then," you finally said, your voice strained.

His eyes slid shut and he dropped his chin to his chest. Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He pinched the bridge of his nose while he tried to steady his breathing.

"I'll just go change," you mumbled, standing up while he nodded, still trying to breathe.

He did his best to collect himself while you were out of the room, but he could feel himself spiraling. What was he doing when it happened? Was he watching a movie with Sarah? Was he eating dinner? Was he getting ready for his fucking date with Nikki?

He could feel the tears welling up but he quickly wiped them away. You needed him to be strong. You needed someone to help you, to take care of you. He couldn't afford to be weak right now. He would let himself feel it later, when he was all alone at home and Sarah was asleep. When nobody needed him and he could just let the guilt and shame and sorrow wash over him.

"Jesus, Joel," Carol muttered as she left the exam room. Joel jumped up from his seat, anxiously waiting for it to be over. He rubbed his palms against his pants, trying to wipe the sweat away. She sighed and looked up at him, taking off her glasses.

"So?"

"So?" she repeated, shaking her head. "So, I have your evidence."

Joel nodded, waiting for her to continue.

"She's been through a lot," Carol said softly, walking him down to her office for privacy. She closed the door but he didn't sit down.

"She's gonna be lookin' for me," he explained, jutting his thumb over his shoulder.

"I'll be quick," she said, sitting down at her desk with a sigh. "There was significant scarring and healed bones, detailing years of abuse, and definitely evidence of some most recently."

"Yeah, I imagine anyone can see that by just lookin' at her face," he replied, but she shook her head.

"I didn't mean her face."

Joel felt his breath get caught in his throat.

"Right," he finally said, his voice cracking.

"She said her husband is a cop?" Carol asked, flipping open a yellow file on her desk. Joel nodded.

"Got him in lockup right now for swingin' on me at Hank's," he explained.

Carol's eyes glanced up at his and she quirked an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I heard something about that," she said, lacing her fingers together and looking at him closely. "Can I give you some advice, Joel?"

He shifted his weight, not sure where she was going with it, but nodded anyway.

"Don't take her statement yourself. Have someone else do it, alright?"

"Why?" he asked quickly, and she gave him a knowing look.

"Because it'll be gruesome, and you're too involved."

Joel frowned.

"Too-"

"Don't care what you've got going on with her, I'm just giving you some friendly advice. Let someone else do it," she said, her eyes softening. "Besides, you got into it with her husband last night. You don't want some hot shot lawyer tossing out her testimony in court because he can link together some personal relationship between you two."

Joel considered her words for a moment and reluctantly nodded. She was right. He was having a hard time keeping things separate, and he appreciated the clarity. He couldn't fuck this up for you. Not now.

"Anythin' else?"

She leaned back in her chair and shook her head.

"You'll have my report in the morning," she said. He nodded, thanking her again for seeing you on such short notice before exiting the room. He turned the corner just as you were opening the exam room door clutching a worn hoodie around yourself and looking around frantically before your eyes fell on him and you visibly relaxed.

"Hey, sorry. You alright?" he asked, his hands gently coming up to your shoulders to guide you towards the back exit. You gulped and nodded.

"Wasn't so bad," you said.

"Good. You did the right thing," he said as he held open the door for you and led you back to his truck.

Once you were comfortably seated and Joel merged back into traffic, you shot him a sideways glance and asked him the question that had been weighing on your mind since he came over that morning.

"Joel?"

"Hm?" he said, twisting his head to the side to change lanes.

"Why is Patrick in jail?"

Joel's grip on the steering wheel tightened and there was an uncomfortable pause before he sighed.

"He came at me last night. We happened to both be at a bar at the same time, he was drunk and swung on me."

"What?!" you exclaimed, twisting around in your seat to look at him.

"I thought you knew since he didn't come home last night. Thought you were avoidin' me by callin' off work," he said, keeping his eyes fixed on the road.

"No, I had no idea. He hasn't been staying at my apartment, he has a motel room somewhere," you said, peering at his face, then dropping your gaze to his hands where you could see now his knuckles were a little red.

"Are you okay?" you asked after a beat, and he scoffed.

"Am I okay?" he repeated with a shake of his head. He looked at you in shock, the corner of his mouth turning up into a half smirk. "I'm fine. Can't believe you'd be worried 'bout me after what you went through."

"Of course I worry about you," you said softly, and he felt his heart melt. Why did you have to be so sweet? After everything you've been through, after everyone in your life has let you down, you were still so fucking sweet.

He wanted to say more. He wanted to say so much more, but he couldn't. He couldn't put that kind of stress on you. It would be selfish to tell you how much he thinks about you, how much he wished you were his, how he hasn't been able to get you out of his head since the moment he laid eyes on you. No, that would be wrong. It wasn't the right time, so he swallowed the words back from the tip of his tongue and focused on the road.

"What's next?" you asked him as he walked you up to your front door. Mercifully, the weather was threatening to downpour so the streets were quiet.

"Well, next you'll have to come down to the station and give your statement so we can formally press additional charges," he said, knowing you wouldn't want to hear it but he was surprised when you simply nodded your head.

"Okay. When?"

"Tomorrow?" he offered, and you nodded again as you unlocked your door.

"I'll have to call off work or come by after," you told him, stepping inside and turning to look at him.

"Listen, 'bout that," Joel began, and you frowned. "I gotta tell Tommy."

"No!" you cried, your eyes going wide with worry, but he shushed you and shook his head.

"I gotta tell him so he can keep an eye on things, alright? I won't be able to keep him in lockup for much longer and I can't be with you all the time to protect you, d'you understand?"

"Joel..." you whimpered, burying your face in your hands. He had to physically restrain himself from pulling you into his arms. He fucking hated seeing you like this.

"We can file a restraining order tomorrow but a piece of paper won't necessarily keep him away, and I can't risk it," Joel explained, his heart breaking for you.

"Okay," you sniffled, finally coming to terms with it. If you were going to do this, you had to trust him.

"Okay," Joel repeated. "Tommy served in the Army, he knows what he's doin', I promise. I'll tell him to keep it quiet, alright?"

"Yeah," you whispered, rubbing your nose with the back of your hand.

"And no more walkin' back from work in the dark. Take your car or get a ride. If I can, I'll drive you - " Joel pulled out his phone to look at his calendar, but you stopped him.

"I can manage, but thank you."

You looked at one another for a moment, both of you unsure what else to say. You were thankful for what he was doing but you weren't sure you had the words to properly express your gratitude. Everything you wanted to say felt so small, so insignificant. So instead of attempting to cobble together some sentence that wouldn't do your feelings justice, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your face against his warm chest. He quickly brought his arms up around you in return, gently placing his hands on your head and back as he held you carefully against him, as if he was worried you would break. He was absolutely certain you could feel how hard his heart was thumping in his chest, but he didn't care. He just wanted to feel you, to hold you, to keep you safe.

"It's gonna be okay," he told you, his voice heavy, and he felt you nod against him before pulling back, his chest suddenly feeling so empty.

"Thank you," you whispered, then spared him one more glance before heading inside, the door clicking shut softly behind you.

Later that evening, after you had forced yourself to eat some soup and drink some water, you were settling in on your couch when you heard a soft knock at your door. You muted your TV and strained your ears to listen. It didn't sound like a familiar knock, not one filled with anger or urgency. You glanced down at your phone, wondering if Joel had sent you a text that you missed, but nothing was there.

Hesitantly, you made your way down the steps. Your fingers brushed the doorknob, but before you opened it, you spoke through the door.

"Who's there?"

"It's me," Maria's voice drifted through the wood, and you breathed a sigh of relief. You unlocked the door and met her eyes. She tried to hold back the wince upon seeing your face, but you still caught it.

"Heard you might need some help," she said, holding up a small plastic bag. You frowned, confused, until she tilted it open for you to look inside. There, you found a variety of makeup bottles and powders in shades that looked pretty close to your skin tone.

You opened the door and let her in. You could tell you were able to take the stairs a little quicker than the morning, and you hoped that meant you were healing because you really couldn't afford to miss more time at work.

"Cute place," she said, glancing around before following you into your living room.

"Thanks," you murmured, turning the volume back on the TV as she settled into the couch next to you.

"I hope you don't mind," she said, motioning towards the bag. "Joel called and told Tommy what happened... I'm so sorry, I wish you would've called us, we could've helped you."

"Thanks," you said with a shrug. "I guess I'm just used to dealing with it on my own."

"Well if you're ever scared of staying alone, we have a spare bedroom, so please don't hesitate to ask."

You gave her a small smile, hoping she could tell how grateful you were. With the exception of one cousin back home, nobody had tried to stand up for you before. Not even your own parents. The whole concept was so foreign to you, you weren't sure how to respond.

Maria seemed to sense this and she changed the subject, leaning forward to sift through the contents of the drugstore bag, pulling out item after item and holding it up against your arm to decide which shade would work best. She spent the next hour helping you cover your cuts and bruises, and by the time you were done, you didn't look half bad.

"How are you feeling?" she asked as she packed up her things and shoved her sneakers back on.

"A little less sore," you admitted. "I should be able to work tomorrow."

"Why don't you take one more day? Joel said you're going down to the station tomorrow, it might take more out of you than you expect."

You thought it over for a moment before reluctantly agreeing. Money was a concern, but you could wait one more day, and maybe you could pick up an extra shift over the weekend.

You thanked her as she headed down the steps and she reminded you again to call her and Tommy if you ever needed anything, and you promised you would.

When you were finally on your own again, you sat in silence, thinking about these people who barely knew you, who you essentially lied to, banding together to help you out. It was unlike anything you were used to, and you were beginning to think you may have finally found your home.

The next morning, you paced around your living room, anxiously nibbling at your nails as you waited for Joel to ring the bell. He had insisted on picking you up. He said he could swing by after he dropped Sarah off at school, that it wouldn't be a problem and he passed by your apartment anyway. You didn't understand why he was so insistent: the walk was less than ten minutes, but you didn't feel like arguing.

You were checking your makeup job in the mirror for the fifth time when the bell rang. With a deep sigh, you pulled on your sneakers, slung your purse over your shoulder and headed down the steps. When you opened the door, he was standing with his back to you under a brown blazer and his arms crossed, trying to appear casual for anybody who might be walking by, but when he heard you step through the door he swiveled around quickly.

"Good morning," you said to him with a small smile after you were sure the door was locked tight.

"Mornin'. You ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," you said as he led you to his truck parked a little ways down the street.

"You really didn't have to do this, you know," you said again, glancing around to see if anyone was watching.

"I know," was all he said before opening the passenger door for you and giving you a hand to step up into the cab.

The quick ride to the station was quiet, only the hum from his radio filling the air as your fingers fidgeted in your lap. When he parked the truck and you made a move to open the door, he held a hand out.

"Wait a minute, I gotta talk to you before we go in there."

You dropped your hand to your lap and looked at him expectantly.

"I can't take your statement today, I'm gonna have another officer do it," he said, his words rushed like he knew you wouldn't take the news well. And you didn't.

"What?!" you cried out softly, anxiety already creeping up and squeezing your chest.

"I'm sorry, I can't," he said, taking a deep breath and glancing out the windshield before looking back at you. "There's a conflict of interest. Patrick assaulted me, and if I go and take your statement, it won't look good to a judge."

"Oh my god," you mumbled, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hands.

"It'll be okay. I'll be right there the whole time. Right on the other side of the glass, okay? I promise, I won't leave."

He watched you for a minute, waiting for you to say something, and when you didn't he began to question himself.

"Unless you don't want me to hear, I don't have to-"

"No, I'd prefer you be there," you said quickly.

He nodded and took a deep breath in.

"I asked a female officer to do it. Her name's Beth. She's real nice, she's dealt with... situations like this in the past."

"Okay," you said softly, reaching for the handle, but once again he stopped you.

"One more thing. I gotta cut him loose tomorrow."

You squeezed your eyes shut. You knew this would happen, but it didn't stop you from feeling the overwhelming sense of dread that crept up your spine.

"It'll be fine. I'll file the restraining order today. If he comes within fifty feet of you, he's goin' right back to jail, okay?" he said, his hand coming up to rest assuringly on your knee.

"Okay," you whispered, finally opening your eyes to look at him.

"You can do this. I know you can."

You had to hold back the tears that sprung up when his words hit your ears. Nobody has ever believed in you, listened to you, took care of you the way he did, and he hardly even knew you. People who have been in your life for years, your own family didn't encourage you the way Joel did. On one hand, it was depressing to realize it took this long for someone to give a shit, but on the other hand, you were so, so relieved someone finally did.

As Joel led you into the station, he kept his head held high, ignoring the glances shot your way and you did your best to do the same. You followed him towards the back, and you hesitated a brief moment before entering the interrogation room, pushing all the bad memories to the back of your mind and focusing on the present.

You needed to put an end to this, once and for all.

You were doing okay. It was half an hour into giving your statement to Beth, and Joel was right. She seemed very kind and patient, and you relaxed after speaking with her for just a few minutes. Or maybe it was because you knew Joel was just a few feet away, watching from the other side of the glass, just like he promised. Whatever it was, you were doing better than you expected.

You had gotten through the bullet points of your history with Patrick. You had detailed how you met after you graduated from high school, how he had just gotten back from basic training with the Marines and was applying to join the Philadelphia police department. You explained how at first, things were great. He was loving and kind, for the most part, but you had been inexperienced and didn't recognize the red flags when you saw them. Like when he got overly possessive at house parties, and especially so when he started drinking. At first, you had thought it was sweet, but then he started getting a little rough. You explained at the time, he would apologize the next day and promise not to do it again, but a few weeks later, he would inevitably go back on his word. The cycle repeated itself over and over for a year, until he proposed one night in front of your entire family, and you had felt pressured to say yes. You had hoped it was just nerves, that eventually you would be excited about marrying him, but it never came. He had rushed you into planning the ceremony and you were only engaged for a few short months. And again, you fooled yourself into thinking everything was just happening so fast, that it was so stressful planning a wedding and that one day, you would be happy.

You couldn't remember the argument that caused him to first hit you. To really hit you, enough to leave a nasty bruise, but you remembered the shock, and you remembered the pain and the fear. And once again, he had apologized the following day, and you forgave him. Because you were weak and scared and confused.

"Did anybody in your life notice?" Beth asked, her eyes filled with what appeared to be genuine concern.

"I hid it at first, but eventually, yes, people noticed," you admitted, fidgeting with the edge of your shirt.

"Did they offer to help you?"

"My cousin," you said, looking down at your hands. "She helped me... she helped me find a clinic so I wouldn't get pregnant."

"Did Patrick know you were on birth control?" Beth asked gently while scratching away with her pen on paper.

"No, I didn't think he would like that."

"Why not?"

"He's made comments to me in the past about wanting a big family, and I was afraid to tell him no. I was afraid he would hurt our children, too," you said, still staring down at your hands.

"Has he raped you?" Beth asked bluntly, and you visibly balked.

"Oh, um," you faltered, the word for whatever reason sending shockwaves through you. You knew the answer, but you just hated admitting it.

"Yes," you finally said, your voice cracking, so you cleared your throat and took a sip of water.

"I'm sorry," Beth said quietly, catching your gaze and giving you a sympathetic look. "I won't ask too much today, but you need to know if this goes to trial, a judge will ask for a lot more detail. You can get a lawyer and they will help walk you through it when the time comes." She reached out across the table to place her hand on top of yours, her thumb rubbing over your knuckles. You nodded, wordlessly telling her to keep going.

"When did it start?"

"Right after we got married, I think."

"How often?" she asked, pulling her hand back so she could focus on writing.

"A few times a week, I guess? I mean, I don't know what counts. A lot of the times I wouldn't be in the mood and he would pressure me, other times were more... deliberate." You swallowed and glanced quickly at the mirror behind Beth, suddenly regretting asking Joel to listen.

"Did you tell your parents?" Beth asked, glancing up at you.

"I told my mom, yes."

"And what did she say?"

"She told me it was a wife's duty to... be available to her husband. She didn't think it was rape." You spit the last word out like it was poison on your tongue. Beth winced but tried to hide it by looking down at her notes.

"And when would he hit you?"

"It varied. Most of the time it was when he was drunk or high. He promised me all the time he would get help, but he never stuck with it."

"Did you ever have to go to the hospital?"

"Yes. A few times. He's broken my arm twice, fractured my hip, and I've had a few concussions. On one occasion, he strangled me until I lost consciousness. I had to be admitted for a bruised trachea." You absentmindedly rubbed your arm and neck as you spoke, your fingers gliding over the old wounds.

"And you've gone to the police before?" she asked.

"Yes, a couple times, but -" you could feel your resolve breaking, and you bit your lower lip to keep it from trembling. "But he always did something to make it go away, and then he would get really mad. One time when I went to file a complaint, he had a cop friend of his lock me in a room just like this one for a whole day. To teach me a lesson." You twirled your finger around the sparse room, tears glistening in your eyes. "They didn't let me out, I couldn't use the bathroom, I didn't have anything to eat or drink. I was all alone."

You stopped talking and tucked your chin against your chest, trying desperately to keep the tears at bay. You wiped a shaky palm against your cheek, drying the tears that fell before you looked back up.

"There were times he would be gone for two or three days at a time and come back, all strung out and crazy... those were the times, the times I went to the police, that I ended up in the hospital. So I stopped asking cops for help."

She nodded as she wrote, giving you a minute to collect yourself before her next question. You glanced up at the mirror again and wondered what Joel was thinking. Did he leave? Or was he still there? You almost hoped he had left. You were feeling too vulnerable as it was, but the thought of him looking at you with pity after this was over made your stomach turn.

"I've done this before," you said suddenly, pulling her attention off the page. "And it always ends up the same. Please tell me this will be different."

"It will be different," she said immediately, her jaw set. She put her pen down on her pad and laced her fingers together. "I'm so sorry the justice system as failed you so tremendously, but we will do everything we can for you now that you're here."

You nodded and wiped more of your tears away before she handed you a box of tissues from a small cabinet in the corner of the room. Taking a deep, shaky breath, you met her gaze once again.

"What else?"

"I think that's enough for today," she said, flipping the pages closed on her legal pad. "We got your doctor's report this morning, and combined with this statement we will start the process of formally pressing charges. After that, if he pleads not guilty, it will go before a judge. But let's take it one step at a time, okay?"

"Okay," you said quietly, gathering your purse and following her out of the room. Your eyes immediately drifted around the hallway and then the bullpen, searching for Joel, but he was nowhere to be found. You frowned as Beth led you towards the front lobby, prepared to walk home, when you heard his voice call your name just as you were opening the door.

"I'll take you home," he said. His face looked hardened and his eyes looked distant.

"You don't have to," you began, but he just shook his head and gingerly cupped your elbow, directing you out the door and into the parking lot.

The ride back was silent. He didn't even have the radio on. You glanced out your window nervously, trying not to read too much into it, but when he dropped you off with barely a comforting word or any acknowledgement of what you confessed, you were convinced your greatest fear had come true. Now that he knew it all, now that he finally heard the truth, he couldn't look at you the same.

You were glad Maria had the foresight to tell you to stay home that day. You were mentally exhausted. Rehashing everything and then Joel's reaction put you in an awful mood. By 4pm, after lounging around watching mindless television and checking your phone constantly for any sign of life from Joel, you decided to just make yourself an early dinner, take a shower and then go to bed early.

As you were stepping out of the shower, the water finally turned off and all of the day's makeup covering your wounds down the drain, you heard your doorbell ringing incessantly. Repeatedly. Urgently.

A jolt of dread shot down your spine, but you remembered Joel said Patrick wouldn't be let out until tomorrow. But what if he got out early? What if he made a phone call and Joel was forced to release him?

Wrapped in a robe, your hair dripping down and soaking the thin material, you jogged to the living room and checked your phone. Surely, if Patrick was released, Joel would have warned you, but you didn't have any missed calls or texts. Then the pounding on the door started, making you jump out of your skin.

Slowly, you crept down the stairs, your hand gripping the doorknob tightly, your fingers hovering over the lock.

"Who is it?"

"It's me," you heard Joel's voice say from the other side, and your eyes widened in shock. You glanced down at your robe, little streaks and drops of wetness trailing down the shiny material.

"Uh, can you -"

"Please open up, people are startin' to look at me like I'm crazy."

With a sigh, you unlocked the door and stepped back, clutching your robe tightly against your chest. Joel squeezed inside and shut the door quickly behind him before turning around, his eyes raking quickly up and down your body before looking you in the eye.

"You were in the shower."

"Yeah," you said, glancing around anxiously before looking up the stairs. "Did you want to come up or something?" He just nodded slowly, his eyes flitting down once again as you led him up the steps.

"I got worried, I was ringin' the bell but I guess you couldn't hear it," he explained, taking off his shoes and shrugging off his blazer.

"What were you worried about? He's still in jail, right?" you asked, handing him some water before sitting down on the couch.

"Yeah, I just... I shouldn'tve left you alone earlier. I shoulda stayed." He stood there, a glass of water in his hand, the other rubbing over his mouth nervously.

You stared at one another for a moment, both trying to figure the other one out. He was breathing faster than normal, his chest rising and falling rapidly under his white button down shirt.

"Why are you here, Joel?" you finally asked, your heart starting to beat faster. "Because if it's out of pity, I don't want it."

"It's not -" he cut himself off and shifted his weight before setting the water down. "It's not pity." He took two steps and sunk down into your couch, his elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor, trying to figure out what to say.

"It's not fair," he finally said quietly. So quietly, you almost didn't hear him. "Everything that's happened. It's not fuckin' fair."

You scrunched your nose, confused, as you looked at him still staring down at the floor. You were about to open your mouth and ask him what he meant when he spoke again.

"I never shoulda let you leave with him that day. Somethin' felt off, I felt it in my gut-" he sat back to press his hand against his stomach for emphasis. "But I let you go. And he -"

He couldn't finish his sentence, his throat closing up as he fought to blink the tears away.

"It's not your fault, Joel," you told him, resting a hand on his broad shoulder but he stood up quickly to pace around the room.

"I'll never let it happen again," he muttered. "Never gonna let him near you again. I'll fuckin' kill him if I have to, he's never comin' here again." His voice was rising as he spoke, his breath coming in short stutters as he rubbed his forehead with the pads of his fingers, eyes wide and crazed as the panic seized him.

So it wasn't pity. It was guilt that brought him to you.

"Joel, calm down," you said, standing up to reach out to him, but he kept pacing.

"Oh fuck, I'm never gonna forgive myself," he whispered, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"You didn't do this to me, he did," you assured him, trying to get him to stop moving. "You're helping me, Joel. You're the only one who ever really tried to help me. There's nothing to forgive."

He finally paused and glanced at you, his breath a little shallow as the panic began to subside.

"I'm gonna get you outta this, I promise," he said, his voice sounding more steady.

"I know," you replied, nodding your head.

He took a deep breath in through his nose and tore his eyes away from you to glance at his watch.

"I better go," he said regrettably, looking back up at you again.

"Okay," you said, following him to the door and leaning against the wall as he put his shoes back on.

"D'you need anythin'? Did you eat? I can -"

"I ate, I'm fine," you told him with a small smile. "Thank you, though."

"Alright," he said after a moment, then forced himself to open the door. Before he stepped through, he looked back at you over his shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'm working dinner tomorrow," you told him, suddenly feeling crestfallen you wouldn't see him for lunch.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he repeated, more firm this time. You slowly nodded and wrapped your arms around yourself, hoping he couldn't see through your robe.

You listened sadly as his heavy footsteps descended the stairs and the door shut softly behind him. You knew him well enough at this point that he would have turned the lock on the knob before he left but you still wanted to peek down the steps to check. Your eyes widened when, to your surprise, he was still standing there at the bottom of your stairs, his back leaning up against the door. His eyes flicked up to meet yours when he noticed movement, and you saw Adam’s apple bob in his throat before he spoke.

"I can't leave."

You looked at one another for a long moment, your heart slamming in your chest, knowing what this meant. You were sick and tired of always trying to do the right thing. Where did it get you? How could you even fool yourself into thinking you had any obligation to Patrick anymore? Joel knew everything now. He knew what he was doing, so you said the words that were on the tip of your tongue. The words that you knew would open the door for something both of you wanted so desperately, you could taste it.

"Then stay."

Taglist: @harriedandharassed@merz-8@sarap-77@nandan11@anoverwhelmingdin@fandomscollide@survivingandenduring@honeyedmiller@pedropascalsbbg@southernbe@pedrosfanny@gobaaby-blog-blog @eloquentdreamer @yomiyasxx @mrsparknuts@missladym1981@spacedoutdaydreamer @cosmic006533-blog @prettyinpunk85@maried01 @sunnyskyapplepie @sawymredfox@gobaaby-blog-blog@stevie75@mxtokko@sleepylunarwolf@lizzie-cakes@laurrrra@annieispunk@here4thedilfs @navystandardheatingoilcap @slugz-writes-shit@devilbat@ashleyfilm@scp116@tragerlover@iveseenstrangerthings50 @yvonneeeee @brittmb115@lulawantmula@abbysgirlll@ro-nahime-things

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Dream A Little Dream of Me | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings:

Word Count: 6433

A/N:: There’s a Sherlock reference in here… let me know if you find it!! Lol I did a “New Girl” quote scavenger hunt once, and they’re a lot of fun! So… part 2 to movie/TV quote scavenger hunt. 

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Everything Ruby had told you was hitting you like a ton of bricks. You’d been smoking a lot more regularly over the past few days, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care that it was worrying Dean. The two of you were physically together, but you both knew your minds were elsewhere. 

The reality of the situation was that there was no way for you to save Dean. It completely shattered your heart, but you knew it was true. As much as you were trying to enjoy the last few months you had with him, it was incredibly difficult knowing what he would be facing very soon. 

However, you didn’t have much time to focus on your woes. Dean had gone out to find Sam who, to your surprise, was at a bar at two in the afternoon drowning in whiskey. You couldn’t blame him, really, given your similar condition. Dean was pacing and worried as soon as he got back to your motel room. His rampage at Sam’s poor decision making, though, was disrupted by a distressing phone call. 

***

It was Bobby. The maid had found him in his motel room unconscious, and she’d feared him dead. Thankfully, he was alive, but he was comatose. The doctors explained to you that he was physically perfectly healthy but just… sleeping. 

“Mr. Snyderson,” the doctor addressed Dean, “you're his emergency contact. Anything we should know? Any illnesses?”

Dean shook his head, looking a bit bewildered. “No, he- he never gets sick. I mean, he doesn't even catch cold.”

“Is there anything you can do?” you asked the doctor. 

“Look, I'm sorry, but we don't know what's causing it... so we don't know how to treat it. He just... went to sleep and didn't wake up.”

Your heart sank further into your stomach. 

***

You helped the brothers search Bobby’s perfectly clean motel room where you eventually found his research and newspaper clippings hiding behind his clothes in the closet. 

“Pittsburgh” was scrawled in big letters next to pictures of various foliage, maps, and newspaper clippings.

“Good ol’ Bobby, always covering up his tracks,” Dean chuckled, given the rack of clothes his research was hidden behind.

“You make heads or tails of any of this?” Sam questioned, looking over Bobby’s research. 

You plucked a piece of paper off the wall. “ ‘Silene capensis’,”you read. “Oh, god, I know that name.”

“Well, you keep workin’ on that, sweetheart. ‘Cause that means absolutely nothing to me,” Dean commented. 

“Here,” said Sam. “Obit.”

The two brothers read over the death of a doctor who’d fallen asleep and simply never woke up; just like Bobby.

You continued to think on the plant. Suddenly, you realized what it was. “Guys, African dream root. I couldn’t think of it immediately ‘cause it’s more commonly known as ‘silene undulata’. It’s supposed to induce lucid dreaming or something.”

“Alright, um…” Sam thought aloud. “So let's say Bobby was looking into the doc's death. You know, hunting after something that started hunting him.”

“Alright, stay here,” Dean instructed you and Sam. “See if you can make heads or tails of this.” He pointed to the closet. 

“And where are you going?” you asked, quirking an eyebrow. 

“I'm gonna look into the good doctor myself,” he smirked, referring to the first victim. 

***

You and Sam were silent for quite some time. Both of you were too drained to speak, it seemed. Your heart was hurting, and you knew Sam’s was, too. You tried your best to focus on researching the news clippings in front of you, but your mind would always pull you elsewhere. 

“You okay?”

You’d forgotten Sam was in the room with you if you were being honest. 

You nodded halfheartedly. 

Sam sighed. “Yeah, uh, I’m in the same boat.”

“I don’t even know what to do anymore, man,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair and throwing your notepad down. “I know there’s nothing we can do, and that almost makes it feel worse.”

“I get it,” Sam replied quietly. “And now, Bobby, and I just… why does everyone I love die, (Y/N)?” His voice cracked a bit and tears flooded his eyes.

“I wish I had the answer, man; I”m searching for it myself,” you said. “And it just… There’s nothing I can do to make this feel better. And I feel like I just got Dean, and now—” You dropped your head. “I’m sorry. Not trying to treat you like my therapist.”

Sam shook his head. “You’re not.”

“And I think the worst part is that Dean is terrified. And there’s nothing I can do or say to save him from that,” you continued. 

“Yeah, well, I wish he’d be a little more honest with me about that,” Sam remarked. 

“I’m his girlfriend, Sam,” you reminded him. “He’s not gonna wanna talk sob-story with his little brother.” You could see you weren’t getting through to him. “Take it from an older sister: we’d rather get our gums scraped than admit fear or stress to our baby siblings. Trust me, if Steven was still around, and I was in Dean’s shoes, I’d be doing the same thing.”

“Well, it’s crap,” Sam argued. “You don’t have to protect us.”

“It’s not about protecting you. It’s about being strong for you. It’s keeping our emotions at bay so that you have all the room in the world to express yours.”

Sam hung his head low. You could tell he was frustrated, but he understood what you were getting at. 

Then, your phone rang. “Hey, Dee. What’s up?”

“So,” he began, “Looks like our Doc was running freaky sleep experiments on his patients. Guy I talked to said it felt like an acid trip.”

“African dream root ‘ll do that to you,” you replied. 

“Yeah, sounds like he was putting it in a tea,” he explained.

“What’s the move now?” you asked. 

“Goin’ to see Bobby. Meet me there,” he instructed. 

***

You and Sam did as told. You found Dean sitting beside Bobby’s bed. 

“How is he?” you asked as you entered the room. 

Dean rubbed a hand over his chin as he turned to look at you. “No change. What you got?”

Sam held files in his hands that compiled your and his research. “Turns out, dream root isn’t just for lucid dreaming.”

“Let me guess. They dose up, bust out the didgeridoos, start kicking around the hackey,” Dean snarked. 

“No, jackass,” you deadpanned. “If you believe the legends, it's used for dreamwalking. Entering another person's dreams; poking around in their heads.”

“I take it we believe the legends,” Dean nodded. 

“When don't we?” Sam said. “But dreamwalking is just the tip of the iceberg. I mean, this dream root is some serious mojo. You take enough of it, with practice, you can become a regular Freddy Krueger. You can control anything. You could turn bad dreams good, you could turn good dreams bad.”

It was clear by the look on Dean’s face he understood what Sam was getting at. “And killing people in their sleep?” 

You and Sam nodded solemnly. 

Dean sighed. 

“So, let's say, uh— let's say, this doc was testing this stuff on his patients, Tim-Leary-style,” suggested the brunet. “Somebody gets pissed at him, decides to give him a little dream visit, he goes nighty-night.”

“But what about Bobby?” Dean questioned. “I mean, if the killer came after him, how come he's still alive?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know.” You stared down at the old man’s resting form. It was the only time you’d ever seen him without him seeming like he carried a tremendous weight on his shoulders. 

“So, how do we find our homicidal sandman?” Dean questioned. 

“Could be anyone,” Sam shrugged. 

“Anyone who knew the doctor; had access to his dream shrooms,” the older one nodded. 

“Maybe one of his test subjects or something?” you suggested. 

“Possible. But his research was pretty sketchy. I mean, I don't know how many subjects he had, or who all of them were,” Dean replied. 

Sam scoffed. 

“What?” you and Dean asked in unison. 

The brunet sighed. “In any other case, we'd be calling Bobby and asking him for help right now.”

Dean seemed to have a “eureka” moment, and a smirk crawled across his face. “You know what? You're right.”

“What?” you and Sam asked. 

“Let's go talk to him.”

“Uh, Dean, that conversation’s gonna be very one-sided,” you said, confused. 

“Not if we're tripping on some dream root,” he smirked down at you. 

Sam huffed. “What?”

“That’s actually not a bad idea, Sam,” you considered. 

“We have no idea what's crawling around in there,” Sam argued. 

“Well, how bad could it be?” Dean shrugged. 

“Bad.”

“Dude, it's Bobby.” 

The younger Winchester considered for a moment. “Yeah, you're right. One problem though. We're fresh out of African dream root, so unless you know someone who can score some…”

“We do, actually,” you said. “Not thrilled about it, though.”

“Who?” Sam asked. 

“Bela.”

“Crap,” both brothers groaned. 

Sam quirked a brow. “You're actually suggesting we ask her a favor?”

“I'm feeling dirty just thinking about it, but it’s our only shot,” Dean grimaced. 

You turned out of the hospital room and began clicking buttons on your phone. The brothers took the lead, and you began to follow them out to the Impala. 

“Hi, darling,” Bela said. The phone had barely rung once. 

“So good to hear your voice,” you sassed. 

“Aren’t you a sweetheart,” Bela replied. 

“Flirting’s over, though, angel, mommy’s had enough now,” you smirked, and Dean gave you a both bewildered and lascivious look over his shoulder. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Aw, and here I thought you were calling because you missed the sound of my voice,” the woman replied. 

“Promise I’ll check in more often,” you said. “Can you get your hands on some African dream root for me?” You sat down in the car, and Dean began to drive.

She sucked in some air through her teeth. “I think you know what’s coming next.”

“And here I thought you’d give me a freebie,” you sighed playfully. 

“You are a stunner, love, but a lady’s got to pay her bills. Dream root’s a tricky thing to get my hands on.”

“Well, I haven’t really got much to offer you,” you said, feeling dejected. “And it’s not just for me to trip balls on. It’s for a close friend. Bobby Singer. He’s sick.”

“I wish I could help, really, but I can’t just fork it over for free. I’ll see you around, then, (Y/N).” And the phone clicked off. 

You sighed. 

“Trouble in paradise?” Dean questioned sarcastically. 

“Fuck off,’ you replied. 

***

Back in Bobby’s motel room, Sam sat at the desk with his head in his hands. He’d likely fallen asleep about thirty minutes ago at this point, and you and Dean were reading through some of the doctor’s papers. 

“Dean, I’ve been wanting to ask,” you whispered, “were you okay with what I was saying to Bela earlier?”

He gave you a confused look. 

“I mean, we’ve never really had a conversation about exclusivity or anything, but my interest is solely in you. I love you, and I don’t want what I said to her to make you uncomfortable or anything,” you continued. 

Dean thought for a moment. “It really didn’t bother me. Thought it was hot, actually.”

You snorted. “Always thinkin’ with your dick, huh?” Just then, Sam let out a moan in his sleep. 

Dean gave you a surprised look and seemed like he was going to burst out laughing at any moment. “Looks like Sammy is, too.”

“Ew, gross,” you shuddered, scrunching up your nose.

“Sam,” Dean called over his brother’s broken moans. “Sam,” he called a little more forcefully. “Sam!” 

The younger brother’s head shot up, and he quickly brushed his cheek with the back of his hand. 

“Dude, you were out,” Dean snorted. “And making some serious happy noises.”

Sam looked incredibly uncomfortable, and he refused to look in the direction of you and his brother. 

The latter kept teasing poor Sam. “Who were you dreaming about?”

“What? No one. Nothing,” he stuttered. 

“C'mon, you can tell me. Angelina Jolie?” 

“No.”

Dean gave you a smirk before saying, “Brad Pitt?”

That got Sam to turn around. “No. No! Dude, it doesn't matter.”

“Whatever.” The older brother rolled his eyes. “Well, since Bela’s a no-go, we’ve been tryin’ to make heads or tails of the Doc’s notes. Unfortunately, he has worse handwriting than you do.”

Sam remained seated in his chair with his back to you.

Dean looked at him expectantly. “You gonna come help us with this stuff?”

Sam looked around, down to his lap, and then shifted uncomfortably to a standing position. “Yeah, yeah. Just give me a sec.”

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

You looked to Dean suspiciously and grabbed your gun from beside you. Pressing the barrel to the back of the door, you opened it a crack. To your surprise, it was Bela. 

“Hello, darling,” she cooed. 

You opened the door for her to come in, confusion etched across your face. 

“You called me. Remember?” she said, raising a brow. 

“And I remember you turning me down,” you replied. 

“Well, I'm just full of surprises,” she smiled. Bela turned to Sam, who awkwardly waved over his shoulder. 

“Hey, Bela. What's going on?” he said strangely. 

Suddenly, it hit you. ‘Oh, my fucking god. He was dreaming about Bela!’ You were definitely going to give him hell later. 

“I brought you your African dream root.” Bela handed a jar of it to you. “Nasty stuff and not easy to come by.” She dropped her purse next to the television and began to take off her coat which caused a hitch in Sam’s breath that you would have missed had you not been paying such close attention to him since your realization. 

“Why the sudden change of heart?” Dean asked her. 

“What? I can't do you a little favor every now and again?” the woman replied, slipping her coat off. 

“No. You can't,” was Dean’s gruff response. “Come on, I wanna know what the strings are before you attach them.” Bela turned to you. “You said this was for Bobby Singer, right?”

You nodded. 

“Well, I'm doing it for him. Not you.”

That piqued yours and Dean’s interest. “Bobby? Why?” Dean asked. 

“He saved my life once. In Flagstaff.” 

Dean looked down at you and you, up at him, but you ended up just shrugging at each other. 

“I screwed up, and he saved me, okay? You satisfied?” Bela huffed. 

“Maybe,” Dean replied. 

“So when do we go on this little magical mystery tour?” she questioned, looking down at the jar. 

“No offense, lovebug, but I don’t trust you enough to be in the same room with you for more than fifteen minutes, let alone Bobby’s head,” you told her. 

Dean took the jar from you and put it in the safe with the Colt. 

“And here I thought we were becoming such good friends,” she replied. “It's 2 AM. Where am I supposed to go?”

“Get a room,” Dean responded. “Ah, they got the Magic Fingers, a little Casa Erotica on pay-per-view. You'll love it.”

“You…” she trailed off, grabbed her bag and coat in a huff, and slammed the door behind herself despite Sam calling after her, “Nice to see— Seeing you… Bela.”

When the door shut behind the woman, you turned to Sam with a wide grin. “You dirty whore!”

“What? What?!” he asked. 

“Well? Does she give good head?” you smirked wickedly. 

Sam’s cheeks immediately flushed, and Dean just looked between you and his brother completely bewildered. 

***

Almost an hour later, you and the Winchesters were downing disgusting dream root teas with a strand of Bobby’s hair mixed in to enter the man’s head. 

“Feel anything?” Dean asked you. 

You shook your head. “Sam?”

“Nothing here.”

You looked down at your cup, a bit disappointed. 

“Maybe we got some bad shwag,” Dean suggested. 

Just then, thunder clapped and rain pattered the window. 

“When did it start raining?” you wondered aloud. 

Dean wandered over to the window, and you followed close behind. He opened the windows to find the rain not coming from the sky, but from the ground. “When did it start raining upside down?” he questioned. 

Then, you noticed your surroundings were changing. Next to Sam was no longer two beds, but a couch; an old-fashioned one at that. You turned back to Dean, and the window you’d been looking out of had turned into a fireplace. 

“What the fu—” you muttered. 

“Okay, I don't know what's weirder: the fact that we're in Bobby's head, or that he's dreaming of Better Homes and Gardens,” Dean snarked. 

“Wait. Wait a sec. Imagine the place, uh, without the paint job.” Sam started gesturing to the corners of the room. “More cluttered, dusty, books all over the place.”

“It’s Bobby’s house,” Dean realized. “Bobby?!” he called.

The hairs on the back of your neck suddenly stood up, and you felt as if someone was watching you. You wheeled around to the window above the kitchen table, but you couldn’t see anyone. Still, something didn’t feel right. You turned toward the stairs and whispered, “Bobby?”

Still, you were suspicious of what was happening outside. “Dean?” you called. “I'm gonna go look outside.”

Dean whispered, “No, no, no, stay close.”

“Dee, I’ll be fine,” you insisted, walking up to him to leave a kiss on his cheek. “Pinky promise.” 

He rolled his eyes, his face turning ever so slightly pink, and a smile played on his lips as he locked his pinky with yours. You loved that you could pull that reaction from the Dean Winchester with something so simple as a kiss on the cheek.

“Don't do anything stupid,” Dean told you. 

“C’mon, it’s me we’re talking about,” you smirked, walking backward toward the door and still facing Dean. 

“That’s what I’m worried about,” he remarked playfully.

You scoffed and headed outside. As soon as you opened the door, though, you found it was no longer raining. In fact, bright sunshine streamed down. 

You were confused to say the least. Walking down through what would be the junkyard if you were in the real world, you found Bobby’s station wagon. However, it looked much newer and cleaner than it would in your real life. The walkway was well-manicured, and beautiful flowers lined the path leading to Bobby’s front door. 

Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind you. You immediately spun around and tried to reopen it, but someone had locked it. 

“Dean!” you hollered. You headed over to the window that overlooked Bobby’s kitchen table and banged on it harshly. “Dean!”

Despite the fact that you could very clearly see him through the window, he didn’t react to you calling his name or hitting against the glass. Still confused, you headed down the porch. 

A beautiful little pond with flowers surrounding it came into view as you walked further into the backyard. You wished in that moment that you’d figured out a way to bring a gun or a knife into Bobby’s head before you drank the dream root tea. 

When you walked past a line of washed sheets hanging out to dry, you got that feeling again; as if someone was watching you. You wheeled around just to get hit with a bat across your chest. Winded, you fell to the ground, heaving painfully. “Motherfucker,” you wheezed. A hand to your shoulder, you pushed yourself up on your elbow to face the college-aged man who’d hit you. “Who are you?” you asked in as tough a voice as you could muster.

“Who are you? You don't belong here,” the man replied.

“You're one to talk,” you scoffed. “You're in my friend's head.”

“You got a poor choice in friends. This is self-defense. He came after me. He wanted to hurt me,” the man spat.

“Uh, if he was coming after you, it’s ‘cause you killed somebody,” you told him. 

“You should be nicer to me. In here... you're just an insect. I'm a god.”

“You’re overcompensating,” you responded dryly. “The ol' two-incher not workin’ how you want it to?”

The man’s face twisted, and he raised his bat again. “Sweet dreams.”

Before you could react, you woke up with a start back in your motel room bed next to Dean. You were actually still holding your empty cup.

The older Winchester turned to you as soon as he realized you were back in the real world. “You okay?”

You nodded. “You?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “We found Bobby.”

“You did?” you asked. 

“And his, uh, wife,” Sam added. “Looked like he had to kill her. I’m guessing it’s how he got into hunting.”

“Jesus,” you sighed. “Speaking of, we should probably go get him.”

***

With Bobby back in your motel room, he immediately began looking over the papers from the doctor’s research.

“Hey, Bobby,” Dean said. “That, uh— That stuff, all that stuff with your wife? That actually happen?”

“Everybody got into hunting somehow,” he shrugged. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean replied. 

“Don't be sorry. If it weren't for you, I'd still be lost in there. Or dead.” He held Dean’s gaze with the most intensity and meaning you’d seen Bobby look at anyone. “Thank you.”

Dean’s lips twitched upward into a smile. 

Sam burst back into the room at that moment. “So, uh, stoner boy wasn't in his dorm. My guess is he's long gone by now.”

“He ain't much of a stoner.” Bobby picked up a picture of the guy who’d attacked you. 

“No?” You cocked your head to the side. 

“No,” Bobby replied. “His name's Jeremy Frost. Full-on genius. Hundred-and-sixty IQ. Which is sayin' some, considering his dad took a baseball bat to his head.” He picked up another piece of paper and handed it to Sam. “Here's Father of the Year. He died before Jeremy was ten.”

Sam grimaced at the photo. “Looks like a real sweetheart.”

“Injury gave him Charcot-Wilbrand. He hasn't dreamt since,” Bobby finished. 

“Till his whole Freddy Kruger thing,” you nodded. 

“How'd he know how to dig up your worst nightmare and throw it at you?” Dean questioned the older man. 

Bobby shrugged. “Hey, he was rooting around in my skull. God knows what he saw in there.”

“Yeah. How'd he get in there in the first place? Isn't he supposed to have some of your hair, your DNA, or something?” Sam asked. 

“Yeah,” Bobby sighed. “ 'Fore I knew it was him, he offered me a beer. I drank it. Dumbest fuckin’ thing.”

Dean laughed nervously. “Oh, I don't know. It wasn't that dumb.”

Your face dropped. “Babe, you didn’t.”

“I was thirsty?” he winced. 

Sam huffed angrily. “That's great. Now he can come after either one of you.”

“Well, now, we just have to find him first,” Dean tried. 

“We better work fast,” Bobby urged, “and coffee up. Because the one thing we cannot do is fall asleep.”

***

Two days later, Dean was losing his mind. “I mean, this Jeremy guy's not a fuckin’ ghost. Where the hell could he be?” He was sitting at the wheel of the Impala twitching a bit. 

“Dean, you sure you don't want me to drive? You seem a little…” Sam trailed off when his brother gave him a strong look. “...caffeinated.”

“Well, thanks for the news flash, Edison!” Dean grumbled. He tried to grab his ringing cell phone from his pocket, but his twitching hands fumbled. 

You took the phone from him gently and answered it. “Tell me you got something,” you pleaded.

“Strip club was a bust, huh?” Bobby asked. 

“Yeah,” you replied. 

“That was our last lead,” the old man sighed. 

“What the hell, man,” you wondered aloud. “What’s Bela got?”

“What do you got, Bela?” you heard him ask her. 

“Sorry,” you heard her say distantly. “Sometimes the spirit world is in a chatty mood, and sometimes, it isn't.”

“She's got nothing.” 

You repeated Bobby’s statement to the rest of the car. 

Dean threw his hands up in frustration. “Great! Well, I'm just gonna go blow my brains out now!” He angrily grabbed the phone from your hands, and you did your best not to scold him. Dean began speeding back toward the motel, but after a few minutes, he pulled off to the side of the road in the woods. “Alright, that's it. I'm done.”

“What are you doing?” Sam questioned. 

Dean slid down in his seat, resting his head on the back of it. “Taking myself a long-overdue nap.”

You lurched forward putting your face next to his. “Are you out of your mind?!” “Dean, Jeremy can come after you,” Sam reminded his brother. 

“That's the idea,” the older man replied nonchalantly. “Come on, guys, we can't find him, so let him come to me.”

“On his own turf? Where he's basically a god?” you mimicked Jeremy’s words from when he beat you.

“I can handle it,” he shrugged. 

“Not alone, you can’t,” you stated firmly. 

Sam reached over and pulled out some of Dean’s hair.

“Ow!” His hand flew up to rub where Sam had plucked from. “What are you doing?”

“We’re comin' in with you,” Sam said plainly. 

“No, you’re not,” the other Winchester scoffed. 

“Why not?” you asked him. “At least, then, it’ll be three against one.”

“ 'Cause I don't want you digging around in my head.”

“Dean, what am I gonna find up there you don’t want me to see?” you asked. You’d always trusted him, but you were worried about what his response would be. 

“Not you, (Y/N). Sam. There’s some things my kid brother shouldn’t know about me,” Dean grumbled. 

To say you were relieved was an understatement. 

“Too bad,” Sam responded. He had already mixed the teas and handed you a cup. 

You took it and chugged the whole thing; desperately trying to ignore the foul taste. However, nothing changed. 

“Dean,” Sam said, hitting his brother on the arm forcefully. 

Dean jerked up. “For the love of god.” He looked extremely tired and confused. “What are we still doing here?”

“No idea,” you answered. 

Suddenly, you heard a sound outside the car. 

“There's someone out there,” Sam said, on high alert. 

You walked around to the front of the car, and to your surprise, you were sitting on a little blanket with a picnic basket. She— well, you— smiled at Dean, not seeming to notice you or Sam. 

“Hey. You gonna sit down?” the dream version of you asked Dean. 

He didn’t move, he just gawked. 

“Come on,” Dean’s dream-you said. “You know how I feel about you keeping me waiting.”

Dean turned to the real you, a bit embarrassed. 

You smiled up at him as his dream-version of you said, “Dean. I love you.”

Suddenly, the whole scene began to shake. Everything disappeared. 

“Where'd she— you— go?” Dean asked. 

Just then, you spotted Jeremy coming out from behind a tree. Sam took off after him, and you and Dean soon got separated from him. The two of you called out to Sam, but it was no use. You turned back to see that the woods you’d run through had disappeared. Instead, the hallway of an unkempt motel laid before you. 

“Stay close,” Dean instructed you, beginning to walk down the hallway. The door at the end of it opened just before you and Dean reached it. An equally gloomy room appeared behind the scratched-up door. 

You could hear a clicking sound coming from within the room, and then, you saw the light on the desk clicking on and off. “Jeremy?” you asked. 

The clicking stopped, the light remaining on, and you finally got a good idea of who you were looking at. “Dean,” you breathed out. 

“Hey, Dean,” the dream version of your partner said. 

“Well, aren't you a handsome son of a gun,” your Dean smiled. 

“We need to talk,” said dream Dean. 

The two began to circle each other, and you remained in the corner. 

The real Dean nodded. “I get it. I'm my own worst nightmare, is that it? Huh? Kind of like the Superman III junkyard scene? A little mano y mano with myself?”

“Joke all you want, smart-ass. But you can't lie to me. I know the truth.”

The real Dean stopped by the desk, and the dream version stood by the door closest to you. 

“I know how dead you are inside,” the dream version sneered. “How worthless you feel. I know how you look into a mirror and hate what you see.”

“(Y/N), don’t listen. It’s not true,” your Dean assured you when he saw how your heart broke for him. However, you knew that the dream version wasn’t lying; how could he? After all, this was Dean’s imagination you were in. 

“Why do you think I’ve got her here?” the dream Dean spat. “She’s gonna get to watch the show.”

“Sorry, pal. It's not gonna work.” Despite how visibly shaken the real Dean was, he tried to smile through it. “You're not real.”

“Sure I am. I'm you.”

“I don't think so. 'Cause see, this is my siesta. Not yours.” The real Dean raised his arm. “All I gotta do is snap my fingers and you go bye-bye.” He tried it once. Then, a second time, and then, a third, and still, nothing happened. 

“I'm not going anywhere. Neither are you. Neither is she,” the dream version smirked wickedly. The door slammed shut and locked behind him.

The real Dean’s face hardened into sincerity. “Let her go,” he commanded.

“No, Dean,” the other version said. “She deserves to know the truth. She deserves to know what kind of monster she’s involved with. Like I said, we need to talk.” He raised his hand to reveal a sawed-off shotgun. “I mean, you're going to Hell, and you won't lift a finger to stop it.”

The two began to circle each other again, and you stayed frozen in place. 

“Talk about low self-esteem,” the other Dean continued to taunt, chuckling. “Then again, I guess it's not much of a life worth saving, now is it?”

Your Dean muttered to himself, “Wake up, Dean. Come on, wake up.”

“I mean, after all, you've got nothing outside of Sam and pretty little (Y/N) here.” The other version of Dean stopped walking by the desk, and your Dean stopped next to you. Your version gave you a pleading look, although you weren’t sure what he was asking you to do in this situation. 

The dream version continued his assault. “You are nothing. You're as mindless and obedient as an attack dog.”

The real one tried to smile through it, and you knew the brave face he was putting on was mostly for your sake. “That— That's not true.”

“No? What are the things that you want? What are the things that you dream? I mean, your car? That's Dad's,” the dream Dean stated. “Your favorite leather jacket? Dad's. Your music? Dad's. Do you even have an original thought?”

The real version scoffed. 

“No. No, all there is is, ‘Watch out for Sammy. Look out for your little brother, boy!’ You can still hear your dad's voice in your head, can't you?” the dream version pressed. He motioned with the gun toward his head. “Clear as a bell.”

“Just shut up,” the real Dean gritted through his teeth.

The dream one lowered the gun. “I mean, think about it.” He stalked toward your Dean, and you were still frozen in place; undoubtedly by the dream version’s doing. “All he ever did is train you, boss you around. But Sam? Sam, he doted on. Sam, he loved.”

“I mean it. I'm getting angry,” your Dean growled. 

The other version of himself refused to stop, though. “Dad knew who you really were. A good soldier and nothing else. Daddy's blunt little instrument.” His voice had gotten hard and angry now. “Your own father didn't care whether you lived or died. Why should you?”

“Son of a bitch!” the real Dean shouted angrily, shoving the other version into the wall above the desk. “My father was an obsessed bastard!”

The dream Dean tried to get up, but the real one knocked him down again. Your Dean picked up the weapon and hit the other with the barrel across the face before pinning him to the wall with it. 

“All that crap he dumped on me, about protecting Sam! That was his crap. He's the one who couldn't protect his family. He—” the real Dean had gotten so choked up, and you wanted nothing more than to run to him. “He's the one who let Mom die— who wasn't there for Sam. I always was! He wasn't fair! I didn't deserve what he put on me. And I don't deserve to go to Hell!” the real Dean had beaten the other so hard, it looked as though he was dead. Blood was splattered across his face, and his eyes were closed. 

Suddenly, the dream version awoke again. His eyes were completely black upon reopening them. “You can't escape me, Dean. You're gonna die. And this? This is what you're gonna become!” He stood up and began to stalk toward the real Dean, but just like that, you woke up. 

You shot up from your seat in the Impala frantically searching for Dean; demon or otherwise. You were relieved to find him in the front seat.

The sun had begun to come up some time while you slept. Dean was completely silent for the drive back to the motel while Sam informed you and Dean what he’d done to stop Jeremy. 

“How’d you do that, Sammy?” you questioned. 

“I don’t know, I just sort of concentrated, and it happened, y’know?” he replied. 

“What happened?” you pressed.

“I made him see his dad. And, uh, some kind of way, one hit from his dad was enough to kill him.”

“Damn,” you breathed out as Dean rolled the Impala to a stop in front of the motel. 

Sam walked ahead of you and Dean toward Bobby.

You hung back with Dean. 

“(Y/N), I don’t wanna talk about what you saw in there,” he said as soon as the two of you were alone. 

“We don’t have to,” you replied. “But when you’re ready— if you ever are— I’m here. And I still love you. No matter what.” You smiled up at him lopsidedly with your hands in the front pockets of your jeans. 

To show you he loved you, too, he pulled you forward and pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. You responded by leaning up and kissing his cheek. And then, he pulled you into a kiss on your lips. Your arms wound around his neck almost like a reflex, and Dean’s arms went around your lower back, holding you tightly to him. 

Sam then interrupted your kiss by asking, “Uh, guys? Come see.” When you entered the motel room, Bobby was pacing angrily.

“What’s going on?” you asked. 

“Bela’s not in her room. She’s not answering her phone,” Sam responded. “She must’ve taken off or something.”

“Just like that? It's a little weird,” Dean said, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Yeah, well, if you ask me, what's weird is why she helped us in the first place,” Bobby replied. 

“I thought you saved her life,” you said. You had a sinking feeling in your stomach suddenly. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Bobby questioned. 

“The thing in Flagstaff,” Dean continued. 

Bobby turned to look at you and Dean, who were still idling by the door. “That thing in Flagstaff was an amulet. I gave her a good deal, that's all.”

Dean’s face dropped, and the panic you were feeling was beginning to set in for him as well. 

“You kids better check your pockets,” Bobby said, an edge in his voice. 

All three of you began to feel around your jackets and pants. 

“Not literally.”

You then followed Dean’s gaze toward the safe in the closet. Dean immediately headed over, muttering, “No, no, no, no.” He opened it, and it was empty. 

“The Colt,” Sam breathed out. “Bela stole the Colt.”

Dean slammed the safe shut angrily. 

“Damn it, kids!” Bobby huffed. 

“Pack your crap,” Dean asserted, stomping over to his bag on the couch.

“Why? Where are we going?” Sam asked. 

“We're gonna go hunt the bitch down,” Dean said. 

Your anger was simmering just below the surface. You were angry at yourself for beginning to build a friendship with her and for not thinking she’d find a way to get something over on you. 

You followed Dean out to the Impala where Sam was putting his bag in the trunk. 

“Hey, Sam. I was wondering. When you were in my head, what did you see?” Dean asked. 

“Uh, just Jeremy. He kept me separated from you. Easier to beat my brains out that way, I guess.”

Dean scoffed. 

“What about you?” Sam asked. “You never said.”

Dean shook his head. “Nothing. I was looking for you the whole time.” Sam looked to you as you began to put your bag in the trunk, and Dean moved around to the driver’s seat. Despite not enjoying lying to Sam, you just shrugged and smiled lopsidedly. 

When you got down into the car, Dean looked thoughtful. You were expecting him to take off immediately, but he hesitated. 

“Sam,” he began. 

“Yeah?”

You were intrigued as to where this was going. 

Dean couldn’t look at his brother. “I've been doing some thinking, and... Well, the thing is... I don't wanna die.”

You closed your eyes, your heart saddening. 

“I don't wanna go to Hell,” Dean continued. 

“Alright. Yeah. We'll find a way to save you,” Sam said softly. 

Dean looked up at him, and you searched his expression. It was another one of those confusing looks you couldn’t quite read; somewhere between pensive and saddened, frustrated and resigned. “Okay, good.” His voice was shaky, and you weren’t sure what you could do to make him feel better; if anything. 

All you could hear was what the dream version of himself had said; “And this?” he’d spat, eyes black. “This is what you’re gonna become!”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[gingerjolover]

Detangle - Julien Baker x fem!crew!reader

Synopsis: Julien's gf helps her get unready after BG's Halloween show at the Hollywood Bowl :') (jesus!julien x crew!reader)

G's notes: gf is lowkey a costume designer? she's crew, but I'm putting her on the same part of the team as makeup artist! also thank you guys for being patient, if only you could see my WIP in google docs rn....

wc: somewhere around 875?

warnings: RPF, jesus!julien, slightly smutty, some light kissin n touchin, no fundamental physical descriptors?

There are very few things that could tear your eyes away from watching your girlfriend headbang onstage while dressed as Jesus. In fact, the entire thing feels like a fever dream. From sourcing the angel costumes for the band, hand-bedazzling Lucy's jacket, sewing Phoebe's veil, and then soundcheck, the lead-up to the Halloween show has felt like a whirlwind.

You're entirely unfocused, eyes parading down Julien's body, only half listening to the cues for an outfit change. "Here," your assistant says softly, eyes sparkling while watching the stage in admiration. She's handing you the boys' original jackets in order of who comes off stage first. You smile at her, grateful she's paying attention while you ogle the somewhat sacrilegious display onstage.

It's within minutes everyone is rushing off to side stage, clothes flying everywhere. Lucy is undoubtedly the easiest to change, so you work with her quickly, carefully adjusting her halo on her head before switching out her white suit jacket for Julien's original jacket. "Thank you," she whispers, kissing your cheek lightly before dashing off, Julien appearing in front of you.

"Hi pretty girl," she says out of breath, leaning in to kiss your lips quickly, already stripping off her robes.

"Jay, leave them on...no don't do that, your hair!" you excalim, Julien obviously was not listening to you earlier when you were standing between her legs bobby-pinning the crown to her hair. "Sorry, sorry-I" Julien stammers as you help her readjust the robes on her shoulders, sliding Phoebe's original jacket over her, "It's okay, you having fun?" you ask with a big smile, kissing her gently.

"The best time ever, I love you," Julien mumbles agaisnt your lips, kissign you once more on your cheek before winking and heading back out.

Your assistant is rushing Phoebe back onto the stage when you both stand beside each other, taking a deep breath before watching the rest of the show. It goes by in a blink. Before you know it, everyone is filing off stage, much slower this time. Julien, Lucy, and Phoebe walk off holding hands, doing a quick but tender group hug right off-stage before they separate, and Julien comes bounding over to you, immediately scooping you up and spinning you around. "How was it?" she asks, mouth already attached to your neck. You can't help but giggle, holding her head as she finally puts you back on the ground. "It was amazing, as always," you say.

"Oh god," you say, looking at her hair, your fingers assessing how tangled the crown is in her hair. "Not God, just me...actually, I'm the son of God," Julien says, eyes wide in a cocky smirk, holding out her arms.

"You're so..." you start, moving Julien further backstage and into the room where y'all got ready. "Sexy? Intelligent? Holy?" Julien rattles off, wiggling her eyebrows as she walks backward, trusting you to walk her in the right direction. "I was going to say ridiculous, but the first two definitely," you smile, eyes twinkling. "Not so much the third one," you giggle. "Oh, why's that?" Julien smirks, sitting in the hair chair in the empty "glam" room. "I don't think it's holy to dress up as Jesus," you start to say, Julien looking up at you with wide, almost glassy eyes, a look common post-show. "And your underwear," you snort. "What about my underwear? It says for God's eyes only," Julien goads, leaning back in the chair, watching you grab a comb and some detangler. "God wasn't the only one looking," you smirk, standing between her legs. "No, he was not," Julien groans, holding onto your hips, "You did a lot more than look," Julien mumbles, smile widening.

"Don't get all worked up," you murmur, smirking, starting to detangle her hair, pulling one piece that was particularly tangled when she all but squeals. "Ow, babe," she exclaims, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed as she leans back a pace, staring at you offended.

"What?"

"That shit hurts!"

"Well, maybe if you didn't headbang so hard, your hair wouldn't be intertwined with your crown right now," you scold softly.

She grumbles, letting you get about 75% of the crown out of her hair before she's whining again. "You're tugging too hard, princess, my neck hurts."

"Me tugging isn't making your neck hurt, seriously Jules, you headbang so hard on stage, and I'm scared you're gonna get whiplash."

"Can't help that I'm a rockstar," she mumbles, finding your eyes before rolling them teasingly before hissing when you pull a chunk of hair.

"Stay still," you giggle, kissing her nose softly. Within 5 minutes, the rest of the crown is out, and you're handing it to Julien so she can keep it. "C'mon, we can pack up and get you unready at the house. Sounds like backstage is filling up," you comment. You can hear the voices of the various friends and peers who came to see the show down the hallway.

"Thanks, angel," Julien whispers, smirking softly as she uses the pet name, hopping off the chair and pulling you into her arms, dipping you ever so slightly to press a passionate kiss to your lips. "Vacation time starts now," she whispers teasingly, her hands in the back pockets of your pants, squeezing gently.

[bupsafr3ak]

IM PROBLEMATIC

「主な名前 | Ani ” Maya ” Kaeth ” Jinx ” Ayase ” Nico ” Clémente/clementine ” Cole ” peregrine/perine ” cassie ” Léo ” Dean ！」

🎀💗 I have 5y, 10y / 18y / 20y / 118y / 273y / 599y / 1987y (im Transage!! >o<). .｡.:*⭐️(๑•̀ㅂ•́)و⭐️ ଘ(੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ 🐈

「★⇒ No prns / only name , She/her , he/him , they / them , sh☆/h☆r , it/its , doll /dollself , bunny / bunny’s , bun / bun’s , 🐾 / 🐾’s , 🍮 / 🍮’s , 🎀 / 🎀’s

(๑˃́ꇴ˂̀๑)⭐️魔法少女irl and shifterー⭐️

Queer stance that i create: Satisqueer🌪️🌈

꒰ TW / CW of my content/acc: €D mention, sh mention, abuse mention, su¡c1d€ mention, bright color n unhealthy coping methods ꒱ ☆〜（ゝ。∂）🎒☆.｡.:(-Д-).｡.:☆

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𓏵 ﹒ all my names !! ◟ 𖦹

Ani¹ , Gwen² , Maya Kuneko³ , Woo Hyun-young⁴ , Yoo Yoon-rin⁵ , Yeobo Lee-young⁶ , Yoneno Chihiro⁷ , Tomoko kuroki⁸ , Kaeth Ósk⁹ , Yarrow¹⁰ , Mikael¹¹ , Dantè¹² , Lovelace¹³ , Valentin¹⁴ , Hikki¹⁵ , Ash¹⁶ , Gloomy¹⁷ , Lacey¹⁸ , Rei¹⁹ , Melody²⁰ , Alma²¹ , Mwynwen²² , Ophelia²³ , Logan²⁴ , Wade²⁵ , Dean²⁶ , Sam²⁷ , Scott²⁸ , Léo²⁹ , isacc³⁰ , Nicole³¹ , Cassandra³² , Mewo³³ , Zero³⁴ , Beatrice³⁵ , Agatha³⁶ , Will³⁷ , Castiel³⁸ , Ollie³⁹ , Nadia⁴⁰ , Filia⁴¹ , Annie⁴² , Madoka⁴³ , Crowley⁴⁴ , Bobby⁴⁵ , Velvet⁴⁶ , Dorian⁴⁷ , Vincent⁴⁸ , Viktoria⁴⁹ , Salem⁵⁰ , jellysh⁵¹ , Eliza⁵² , Clémentine⁵³ , Doll⁵⁴ , Sweetiebelle⁵⁵ , Nico⁵⁶ , Sweetheart⁵⁷ , Lavender⁵⁸ , Lovelace⁵⁹ , Marionette⁶⁰ , Luppet⁶¹ , Lolita⁶² , Coquette⁶³ , Sugar⁶⁴ , Cinnamon⁶⁵ , Vanilla⁶⁶ , Bonbon⁶⁷ , Candy⁶⁸ , Cappuccino⁶⁹ , Cupcake⁷⁰ , Milk⁷¹ , Mocha⁷² , Jack⁷³ , Jeff⁷⁴ , Liu⁷⁵ , Nina⁷⁶ , Pop⁷⁷ , Jane⁷⁸ , Hoodie⁷⁹ , Clockwork⁸⁰ , Toby⁸¹ , Cakette⁸² , Pudding⁸³ , Strawbie⁸⁴ , Caramel⁸⁵ , Cremelle⁸⁶ , Shortcake⁸⁷ , Berrie⁸⁸ , Raspberry⁸⁹ , Angel⁹⁰ , Marie⁹¹ , Pearl⁹² , Cassie⁹³ , Sid⁹⁴ , Michelle⁹⁵ , Veronica⁹⁶ , Bonnie⁹⁷ , Marceline⁹⁸ , Star⁹⁹ , Eda¹⁰⁰ , Morute¹⁰¹ , Hime¹⁰² , Agejo¹⁰³ , Ayano¹⁰⁴ , Amai¹⁰⁵ , Ryoba¹⁰⁶ , Hanako¹⁰⁷ , Junko¹⁰⁸ , Jinx¹⁰⁹ , Momo Ayase ¹¹⁰ , Rilliane¹¹¹ , Nanno¹¹² , Clémente Dearworth¹¹³ , Cole Syemour¹¹⁴ , peregrine Augusts¹¹⁵

ෆ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ෆ ୧ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ͜ ෆ

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\ (◡ ω ◡⁠) /･.･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.･｡✿☘️⭐️ identities

( ｡•̀ ᴗ - )✧__—┄⠀ genders ☆ Transgirl , transfem , transmasc , non-binary , gender-fluid flux , demi-girlboy , condigender , pomogender, boy/girlflux , implagender , parafluid , enbyflux , paradoxgender , paradoxigender , libragender , genderfloren , neutrois , orchidboy , verdeboy , girlqueer boy , nullgender , multigenderfluold , demijuxera , peculigender , sensiboy , contrafem , selfgender , ADHDgender , intersex kitty , mulium , infinigender , cisn’t , transfemneuVS , transfemboyVS , transfemneumasc , presquirl , presquoy , godesse , doxwoman , veinix , enbyspike, loligender , shotagender , nanagender , selftransf , T-GNC , gendercreative.

( ｡•̀ ᴗ - )✧__—┄⠀ orientations ☆ kushōromantic , okarunsexual , cupioromantic/sexual , dualrose , limiromantic , fictosexual/romantic , fictoflux , anuafsexual , multifictino , aliusexual , aroace , quoisexual/romantic , orchidsexual , polarromantic , autorelationship, myrsexual , odeoromantic , labelfuck lesbian , labelfuck gay , pan-lesbian , pan-gay , bi-lesbian , bi-gay , concelosexual , dilf lover.

Not all my identities are here..

( ｡•̀ ᴗ - )✧__—┄⠀ stances ☆ radqueer , satisqueer , strawberryqueer , loliqueer , proship , profic , proconsang , proendo.

( ｡•̀ ᴗ - )✧__—┄⠀ CIS ☆ AUDHD High support level , korean , japanese , indian , thai , chinese , dyslexic , dyscauculia, dysgraphia , liszitomania , depression, dystimia, synestesia , C-PTSD , stalked , gr••med , SH scars , system , traumagenic , aphantasia , hypersexuality , attention-seeking , lost puppy syndrome , Inferiority complex , appearence dysphoria , DPD , OCD , phone addction , hamster personality disorders , lost puppy syndrome , age dysphoria , limerance , insatiable hunger syndrome , Youngest child syndrome , Middle child syndrome , Gamer PC Syndrome , White Knight Syndrome , echolalia , insomnia.

( ｡•̀ ᴗ - )✧__—┄⠀ not sure /tris or other ☆ schizophrenia , DPDR , BPD , ASPD , yandere , lovesick.

( ｡•̀ ᴗ - )✧__—┄⠀ trans ☆ hearing imparied , APD , Wheelchair user , Crutch user , fluxable , shimmer addict , black , racefluid , filipino , icelandic , brazilian , vitiligo , Parcial Heterochromia , lolibody , Loli , shota , goth , Utauloid/voicebank , doll , birthday , silver hair , corpse , face , pink aura , perma2010s , tsundere , pink blood , cigar burns, língua polish, lingual bulgarian , heart pupil , fakergenic , Fallenangelblessgenic , maturity , cigar burns , white hair , Tourette syndrome , tics , weight , height , polyage , romantic , RAMCOA , permaabused , permahated , famous , celebrity , voice actor , actor , musician , fighter , consang relationship , namefluid , backstory , angel , kemonomimi , immortal , thigh gap , |)€4th$pø .

[fandomtherapy44]

Castiel x reader Chapter 16

Summary: SEASON 5 WHOOOO!!!!!!!! LET's GO! So I am so excited for this season so many great episodes. There are going to be a lot more Cas and Y/n scenes. And more chapters too. I do recommend that you read my first book so you get the full Y/n Winchester build-up. Okay with out further due enjoy the second book of Love War and Grace.

Paring: Castiel x reader

word count: 4.4k

Warnings: Some language, Typical Supernatural violence, Spoilers for season five of Supernatural, Guns

AN/ Hey Ya'll so I did notice that it's been a month since I've updated this series sorry for that. This is the longest I've written in a while so that's part of the reason why it took so long. Anywho hope you enjoy especially Cas's and Y/n Renion.

Chapter 16: Good God Ya'll

POV: Y/n “Alright, it looks like you can go home.” The doctor said while putting her supplies away. “Great thanks doc.” She stops and seems to peer into my soul. “You know I have never seen a heart attack like yours I mean you're twenty-four, fit, don’t smoke it just doesn’t make sense.” Yeah I know but it's not like I can tell her that Angels exist and that they all pretty much hate me. “Uh yeah crazy.” I walked to the door. “You must have a guardian Angel.”  She jokily said. Oh, you have no idea.

I stepped into Bobby’s doorway to his room he was in his wheelchair just staring out the window. “Hey, what did the Doc say?” Sam asked me. “All good thanks to Cas.” Speaking of him where the Hell is he. Dean comes to us carrying an envelope. “It's been like three days now?” Sam and I both sighed. “We got to cheer him up. Maybe I'll give him a backrub.” “Dean” Again Sam and I both said. “Look...we might have to wrap our heads around the idea that Bobby might not just bounce back this time.” I mean he’s right this kind of news you don't just get drunk and forget about it.

“What's in the envelope?” I nod at the paper. “Went to radiology.” He pulls out the X-ray. “Got some glamour shots.” It was his ribs and it had Enochian engraved in his bones. “Is that why I feel like I have the worst heartburn ever.” I pointed to the picture. “Yup, curtsy of Cas apparently no demon or Angel can find us” Okay does not mean him too? Then Sam’s phone rings. “Hello? ...Castiel?” CASTIEL! “Speak of the devil.” “Ah, St. Martin's Hospital. Why? What are you—Cas?” Cas had hung up on Sam. And the Angel walks up to us. “Castiel…” I just got lost in my thoughts staring at him.

“Y/n I'm glad to see that you're doing well.” That’s it! He must have something on his mind. “Cell phone, Cas? Really? Since when do angels need to reach out and touch someone?” Dean questioned. “You're hidden from angels now—all angels. I won't be able to simply—” He tried to explain. “Enough foreplay.” Bobby announced from his chair. “Get over here and lay your damn hands on.” “I can't.” What? “Say again?” He spun in his chair.

“I'm cut off from heaven and much of heaven's power. Certain things I can do. Certain things I can't.” What about me then? “You're telling me you lost your mojo just in time to get me stuck in this trap the rest of my life?” I can see Castiel is sad that he can’t help. “I'm sorry.” “Shove it up your ass.” I feel terrible for Cas and Bobby.”At least he's talking now.” Dean commented to Sam and me. “I heard that.” “I don't have much time. We need to talk.” Cas directed to Dean. “Okay.” “Your plan to kill Lucifer.” “Yeah. You want to help?” “No. It's foolish. It can't be done.” Cas does really not have any fucks to give.

“Oh. Thanks for the support.” “But I believe I have the solution. There is someone besides Michael strong enough to take on Lucifer. Strong enough to stop the apocalypse.” We are wondering who he’s talking about. “Who's that?” “The one who resurrected me and put you on that airplane. The one who began everything. God.” Okay God right I mean why not. “I'm gonna find God.”

Dean closes the door so people don’t think we're insane. “God?” “Yes.” “God.” “Yes! He isn't in heaven. He has to be somewhere.” Cas sounded so sure. “Try New Mexico. I hear he's on a tortilla.” Dean said and poor sweet Cas did not get the joke. “No, he's not on any flatbread.” “Listen, Chuckles, even if there is a God, he is either dead—and that's the generous theory—” “He is out there, Dean.” “—or he's up and kicking and doesn't give a rat's ass about any of us.” Cas just glares.

“I mean, look around you, man. The world is in the toilet. We are literally—at the end of days here, and he's off somewhere drinking booze out of a coconut. All right?” “Enough. This is not a theological issue. It's strategic. With God's help, we can win.” he really believes. “It's a pipe dream, Cas.” Cas gets very close to Dean. “I killed two angels this week. My brothers. I'm hunted. I rebelled. And I did it, all of it, for you, and you failed. You and your brother destroyed the world—and I lost everything, for nothing. So keep your opinions to yourself.” Damn, I don't think I've ever seen Cas like that before.

“You didn't drop in just to tear us a new hole. What is it you want?” Bobby voiced. “I did come for something. An amulet.” A necklace? “An amulet? What kind?” “Very rare. Very powerful. It burns hot in God's presence. It'll help me find him.” “A God EMF?” Sam questioned. “Well, I don't know what you're talking about. I got nothing like that.” Bobby shrugged his shoulders. “I know. You don't.” Cas turns to Dean. He looks down at Dean’s necklace. “What, this?” “May I borrow it?” Cas asked politely.

“No.” “Dean. Give it to me.” Dean is silent, he looks at me and I nod my head. “All right, I guess.” He takes it off. And hestionly gives it to Cas. “Don't lose it. Great. Now I feel naked.” Cas now has the necklace. “I'll be in touch.” He goes to walk out of the room. “CAS wait up!” 

He is very quick on his feet I guess having wings would help with that. I caught up to him and grabbed his wrist to pull him into a room ironically it was the chapel. We just stood staring at each other a little. I couldn't believe that he was here. I finally shake out of my trance-like state. And go to hug him tight like he would disappear in my fingers. And he does the same. “Cas were you really …. Dead?” I say right next to his ear. An answer came that I never hoped to hear.

“Yes.” A tear slips down my cheek and I squeeze him harder. We let go of each other slowly. We sat down on the pews. “So do you really think God will help us?” “I'm here aren't I” I sigh and process everything. “Ok, we will get God’s help then.” “Y/n do you really believe in this plan?” He wasn't just asking as a tactic to win this war but as my friend.

“I believe in you Cas yes God brought you back but you are the one who is fighting actively with us so no matter what remember that.” “Thank you Y/n, I must go start the search.” “Ok but now that you can’t just pop in where I am please use your phone that I gave you for that very reason” I finish with a smile. He gives me one back and files off.

When I was gone Rufus had called Bobby sounding really in trouble and something about Demons. We drove up to this bridge in Colorado and it looked like a tornado had walked through. “This is the only road in or out.” Great. “Looks like we're going to put those scout skills that we never learned to use boys. Let’s Go!” I grabbed my pack and gun and we were off.

We walked into the town slowly and lets just that tornado had walked over and full on ran through. Cars flipped over store doors open … blood in lots of places. Sprilikers on for hours. I had been in haunted places before but I have never felt a chill in my body like this. We are checking out this car when we hear a gun cuck and we turn around. It’s Ellen.

“Ellen hey!” I go to hug her but she raises the gun to my face. Dean gets in between us. “That’s far enough.” “Ellen, what the heck's going on here?” And in response, she throws holy water at Dean. I have to hold back my snicker. “We're us.” He says annoyed, whipping off his face. We walked to a church where the survivors of whatever happened held up. When Ellen knew we were safe she threw herself onto me first for a hug. When she hugged Dean and she pulled back she slapped him.

“You can't pick up a phone? What are you, allergic to giving me peace of mind the only one to call is Y/n. I got to find out that you're alive from Rufus?” Dean seems surprised by her care. “Sorry, Ellen.” “Yeah, you better be. You better put me on speed dial, kid.” “Yes, ma'am.” All of us go to the church basement and theirs a demon trap in front. “What's going on, Ellen?” I ask. “More than I can handle alone.” “How many demons are there?” Sam asks in almost bewilderment. “Pretty much the whole town, minus the dead people and these guys.” Holy shit Demons are having super bowl parties.

“So, this is it, right? End times? It's got to be.” Ellen states. “Seems like it.” Sam replies back. Ellen knocks on the door and the makeshift peephole cover gets moved. “It's me.” Someone opens the door and we're let in, the people in here look like they've been through… war. They all look normal and one of them is pregnant. Peachy just peachy.

“This is Sam and Dean, Y/n. They're hunters. Here to help.” A guy who looks like he's the most confident out at of everyone comes up to us. “You guys hip to this whole demon thing?” “We have some experience.” I answered laughing inside. There was another man in glasses sitting at the table who looked especially like he had seen something. “My wife's eyes turned black. She came at me with a brick. Kind of makes you embrace the paranormal.” Yeah, I would too.

“All right, catch us up.” Dean told Ellen. “I doubt I know much more than you. Rufus called. Said he was in town investigating omens. All of a sudden, the whole town was possessed. Me and Jo were nearby—” What? Now that’s a surprise. The last time I knew she would rather have Jo be a Barmaid than a hunter! “You're hunting with Jo?” “Yeah, for a while now. We got here, and the place—well, the place was like you see it. Couldn't find Rufus, then me and Jo got separated. I was out looking when I found you.” Well, that’s great.

“Don’t worry Ellen we’ll find her” I touched her arm in a comforting way. She gave me a small smile in return. “Either way, these people cannot just sit here” Sam said looking at everyone. Especially the pregnant woman. “We got to get them out now.” “No, it's not that easy. I've been trying. We already made a run for it once.” “So we just reverse the plan-” Ellen stopped me. “Sweetie we used to have twenty.” My eyes widened. “Well, there's four of us now—” Dean tried again.

“You don't know what it's like out there. Demons are everywhere. We won't be able to cover everybody.” “What if we get everyone guns?” Sam suggested. “Sam you want to give walking nursery over there one she won’t make it five feet without going into early labor.” I said to him hoping to slap some sense into him. “More salt we can fire at once, more demons we can keep away.” Of course, it didn’t work when did my brothers ever listen to me!? “Fine everyone but her I'll carry two guns” I could tell Sam was ashamed but he was right, unfortunately. Dean broke our tension.

“There's a sporting goods store we passed on Main on the way in. I bet they got guns.” “All right. You stay. We'll go.” Sam said to Ellen. “What about—” I pulled Ellen into a hug. “Ellen if she’s out there I promise to bring her back.” She had tears in her eyes but kept them back to be strong. “Thank you Y/n.” I squeezed her arms and followed my brothers. 

We stop outside the door well Dean stopped us. “Why don't we just go?” Dean directed to Sam about him and I. “What? Just you and N/n?” Sam clapped back. “Well, yeah. Somebody's got to stay here and start giving them Shotgun 101.” “Yeah. Ellen.” Sam starts to go but Dean stops him again. “No no no. It's gonna go a lot faster if you stay and help, okay?” “While you and Y/n split up to go get guns and salt and look for Jo and Rufus? That's stupid.” “Dean We’ll be okay.” “Thanks N/n.” But Dean was stubborn. “You don't want me going out there.” Sam realized. “I didn't say that.” “Around demons.” “I didn't say that.” “Fine, then let's go.” Sam stopped upstairs and Dean gave me an uneasy look.

Dean and I had gone to go look for Guns while Sam was getting salt. “Ok come on let me have it.” Dean said to me. “I don’t know what you're talking about.” I looked at the shotguns not looking up at him. “Y/n I know you, your silence speaks louder than your words so spit it out.” “Dean, I can't tell you how to feel about this.” “But you're judging me.” “No, I'm not.” I put the bag of guns on the table and filled it. I could tell he was still thinking that.

“Dean I think you're feelings about this whole demon blood situation is right but Sam deserves our sympathy with him.” “But he!-” “I know what he did I was there. But he’s our brother and I am going to choose to believe that he can handle this and if he can’t then I'll be with him every step of the way.” I stopped to take a breath. “I hope you choose that too.” I picked up the bag and walked out.

We went to the store to check on sam and when walked in the scene was not good. Sam was bent over a body looking at the blood dripping off the blade like it was liquid drugs. “Sammy?” He drops the knife. 

The basement air had grown stronger with tension more and more the longer we were stuck down here and now seeing Sammy Dean was on edge. Teaching everyone shotgunning quickly is harder than it sounds. “Miss, can you show me?” It was the pregnant woman. “Mahm what’s your name?” “Caddy.” “Caddy, do you know the gender and name?” she smiled looking down at her bump, and that right there I knew I wouldn't be able to live if I let her out there. “A girl and her name will be Andra”

“That’s a beautiful name and Andra is the reason why I can't let you go out there.” She looked shocked. “But I can fight.” “I know you can Caddy but if you got hurt then you may never know your kid and I won't allow that.” She sat down tears in her eyes. “I'll fight for you double-fisting it so don’t worry the demons will get it no matter what.” I tried to add a little humor to it. “Thank you.” “Don’t mention it.”

“I'll be back.” I overheard Ellen say. I got straight up. “Where are you going?” “I can't sit here on my ass. My daughter's out there somewhere. I'm not back in half an hour, go. Get these people out of here.” Before I can say anything Sam speaks up. “No, wait. I'll go with you.” “Whoa, hold on. Can I talk to you for a second?”  My two brothers walked out. And I could hear the arguing. Suddenly the door pops open. Dean is up against the wall and Sam is holding him there. “If you actually think I—” Sam was getting emotional and they were talking about the demon blood.

With Sam and Ellen gone the pastor was reciting prayers like crazy. And Dean was thinking, walking back and forth. Someone pounds on the door Dean goes to open it and there is Ellen. “Ellen, what happened Where's Sam?” I asked, seeing her state telling me that she had taken a punch. She doesn't answer me and just sits down.

“They took him? Demons took him? Oh my god. What if they're in here? The demons?” Caddy got very worried. “Caddy don't worry they can't get past that door.” I pointed. Dean grabbed a shotgun and was going to leave. “Everybody sit tight. I got to—” He glanced back at everyone and saw their faces and knew he couldn't leave them like this. “Okay, we need to get a plan together. Tell me everything.” He sat down and tells the pastor and he gave me a nod of his head like, don’t worry.

“Guys, one of them's in Jo. We got to get it out without hurting her.” Well, now it's personal. Ellen snorts, laughing at something. “It called me a bitch.” “Ok no offense Ellen but I've been called worse because I took the last hot dog at seven eleven,” I responded. “No, that's not what I meant. It called me a black-eyed bitch.” Dean and I hear and either these demons are looking in mirrors or something fishy is going on.

“What kind of demons are these? Holy water and salt roll right off. My daughter may be an idiot, but she's not stupid. She wears an anti-possession charm. It's all kind of weird, right?” Ellen commented putting the pieces together. “The whole thing's off.” Dean finished. “What's your instinct?” Mine would be call Cas but I know he’s trying to look for God or whatever. “My instinct? My instinct is to call Bobby and ask for help. Or Sam.”

“Well, tough. All you got's me and N/n, and all we got's you. So let's figure it out.” “You know I agree with Ellen Dean.” “All right.” “Ellen do you know why Rufus came was there a specific sign or?” I asked. “He said something about water. That's all I know.” Water? “Padré, you know what she's talking about—the water?” Dean asked the pastor. “The river. Ran polluted all of a sudden. Last Wednesday. And the demon thing started up the next day.” Interesting. “Anything else anything at all?” “Maybe, but it's pretty random.” “Trust me Austin in this life nothing is random.” he takes in my own words. “Shooting star—does that count?”

The three of us look at each other in knowing. “Real big. Same night. Wednesday.” “That definitely counts.” Dean goes over to the bookshelf and grabs one of the many Bibles. And flips through the pages till he finds the right one. “"And there fell a great star from heaven, burning like a torch, and it fell upon the river, and the name of the star was Wormwood. And many men died."” I leaned down on the table thinking about it.

“I don’t know about you guys but that sounds like a giant ass warning sign of the apocalypse.” “Y/n’s right.” Dean agreed with me. “And these specific omens, they're prelude to what?” “The Four Horsemen.” The pastor responded. “And which one rides the red horse?” Dean questioned. “War.” war!? War. “Dean that sweet ride that was parked on main street the red Mustang.” I pointed out and he shook his head in agreeance. “If War is a dude and he's here, maybe he's messing with our heads.” “Turning us on each other.” Ellen concluded. “You said Jo called you a black-eyed bitch. They think we're demons, we think they're demons. What if there are no demons at all and we're all just killing each other?” I asked everyone in general to everyone. 

“So now you're saying that there are no demons and war is a guy.” Austin vocalized and he was right, our lives sound like they were ripped from a cheesy early two thousand TV show. “You believed crazy before.” Dean voiced back. Then there was another slamming on the door. It was Roger which is weird because I don't remember leaving.  “I saw them, the demons. They know we're trying to leave. They said they're gonna pick us off one by one.” “Wait wait wait. What?” Dean proclaimed our thoughts.

“I thought you said there were no demons.” “Austin there's not, okay.” I told him. “I thought someone should go out and see what's going on!” Oh come on! If I did not know about the supernatural world I would be pissing my pants right now! “They're gonna kill us unless we kill them first!” Roger responded in panic. “Guys please hold on!” “No, we got people to protect. All right, the able-bodied go hunt some demons.” Austin said straight back at me. He grabbed the shotguns.

“Whoa whoa whoa. Slow your roll. This is not a demon thing.” Dean tried to stop him.  Out of t the corner of my eye, I see Roger twist a ring on his finger. Fuck it's him. “Look at their eyes! They're demons!” He pointed at us and I'm sure we looked like demons. Caddy gasps. No no! “Caddy!-” But before I could get another word out Dean pulls me out of the room and a gunshot almost hits us.

“Okay this is plan you and Ellen get Jo and I'll get Rufus.” Dean whispered to us. We nodded and went to them.Ellen sets off the bomb. Jo walks a little close to window and Ellen grabs her and pins her to the wall. Of course she tries to fight. “Now you listen up, Joanna Beth Harvelle.” Ellen pulled the full name card. “Jo its us!” “Get off of me bitches!” “Jo if we were demons we would have disaboled you by now!” I try to reason. She listens. “N/n?” “Yes!” 

Now both of them didn’t want to kill us we could talk. “We all on the same page?” Ellen asked. Rufus and Dean nod. “Good.” “Hi, Jo.” “Hey.” Ok sensing tension between these two I'll pin that for later. “Okay, we got to find War before everybody in this town kills each—” Gunshots. Everyone ducks. “Damn it! Where's Sam?” Dean yells. “Upstairs.” I let him go, I had a feeling that Caddy needed help. They have the horseman and I have the people.

Ellen and I tried to sneak out to the battlefield but it was pretty hard with bullets flying through the air. “Caddy! Caddy, you have to get out of here!” “No, you're a demon!” “Caddy if I was a demon I would want you out here!” she was going to say something else but I saw a person behind her holding a handgun.

“CADDY!” I push her out of the way and a bullet goes into my arm and I'm pushed back on the ground by the force. I don’t even have time to look at my wound before the guy gets on top of me with a knife. He’s about to stab me in the heart but I catch his wrists before he can slam down. I'm slowly losing strength and the knife is slowly going down. I’m sorry guys, Cas.

The blade is about to go in my chest when the guy stops. “What the fuck!!” He gets off. “Yeah me too dude.” I breathe deeply. “Y/n! Are you okay?” CAddy asked me. “Nothing a little dirt won’t fix.” I simled to hide my pain. “You saved me.” “It was nothing.” She pulls me into a hug. “Yes, it was.” 

It feels surreal to be at such a wonderful beautiful place when the day was so ugly and stressful. I was sitting at the picnic table with my brothers twirling the ring in my hands. “So, pit stop at Mount Doom?” Dean broke the silence. “Dean—” “Sam, let's not.” “No, listen. This is important. I know you don't trust me.” Dean looks away and I nudge him to bring him back. “Just, now I realized something. I don't trust me either.” We both look at him.

“From the minute I saw that blood, only thought in my head...and I tell myself it's for the right reasons, my intentions are good, and it, it feels true, you know? But I think, underneath...I just miss the feeling. I know how messed up that sounds, which means I know how messed up I am. The thing is, the problem's not the demon blood, not really. I mean, I, what I did, I can't blame the blood or Ruby or...anything. The problem's me. How far I'll go. There's something in me that...scares the hell out of me, Dean Y/n. In the last couple of days, I caught another glimpse…” “So what are you saying?”

“I'm in no shape to be hunting. I need to step back, 'cause I'm dangerous. Maybe it's best we just...go our separate ways.” I think he's right if he needs time. “Well, I think you're right.” Dean responded and Sam and I were both surprised. “I was expecting a fight.” “Me too.” “The truth is I spend more time worrying about you than about doing the job right. And I just, I can't afford that, you know? Not now.” I feel like Dean is still avoiding his feelings but that's up to him. “I'm sorry, Dean.” “I know you are, Sam.”

“So Y/n which one of us do you want to go with. I thought for a minute and then I came back with an answer. “I think a little separation will be good for us all to sort through our own feelings without anyone else's opinion mixing in our own.” I want Dean to really think by himself. “Where will you go?” They both ask me. “With Ellen and Jo if they are okay with that.” Sam stands up and hugs me. “But you better still call me that threat could still happen.” I tease. “You too Dean.” “Yeah, I know my little sister can kick my ass.” He said as he hugged me. 

Jo and Ellen are packing up a truck. “Hey, N/n came to say goodbye?” Ellen asked. “Um actually the opposite and I totally understand if you don't want to but I was wondering if you had space for an extra hunter for a while.” Ellen throws me a pack in response. “Well come on we just got word on a possible vamp nest in Texas.” Jo smiles and we get in the truck. I roll down the window and just hope that this time apart will bring us together. 

AN/ Hope you all enjoyed and don't worry the siblings will be back together soon enough. See you Ya'll next time Xoxo Gossip Girl:)

[snailarts]

Uhhh Supercatural moment??

I have a whole doc as well with lore ideas n stuff if anyone wants to see it😼

Lmk who I should do next? Bobby, Crowley, Rowena, Gabriel, and Metatron are pretty high on my list, but I want to know what other people are thinking :)

[casinoownersigma]

"Introduction."

"Hello all,

I am known as Sigma, manager of the Sky Casino and one of the 5 members of the Decay of Angels (but please don't group me with people like Fyodor and Nikolai).

I value my customer's lives and the wellbeing of the casino. I hope to see you interacting around the blog."

[OOC: Hi hi! I'm the main admin/account.

ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʀᴘ ʙʟᴏɢꜱ . . .

BSD

@orphanweretiger (Nakajima Atsushi)

@rabidmafiadog (Akutagawa Ryuunosuke)

@myidealscannotdie (Kunikida Doppo)

@girls-and-samurai-swords (Kyouka Izumi)

@headchamberlain (Ivan Goncharov)

@bramthecalamity (Bram Stoker)

@oceanlifeenthusiast (Howard Phillips Lovecraft)

@thepastornathaniel (Nathaniel Hawthorne)

@themaskedpastor (Post-lobotomy Nathaniel)

@tom-n-huck (Mark Twain)

@real-tom-sawyer and @real-huck-finn (Tom and Huck)

@bungo-rp-advice (Guild-themed advice blog)

@jewel-kings-madness (Ace)

@myname-isntlolita (Elise)

@vitas3xualis (Ougai Mori)

@the-metamorphasis (Franz Kafka) (BSD OC)

@huntingdogjouno (Saigiku Jouno)

@doajouno (Decay Of Angels AU Jouno)

@tatsuhikoshibusawa (Tatsuhiko Shibusawa)

@actorshibusawa (Actor Shibusawa AU)

BSD Stormbringer

@the-flags-pianoman (Pianoman)

@the-flags-lippmann (Lippmann)

@the-flags-iceman (Iceman)

@the-flags-albatross (Albatross)

@the-flags-doc (Doc)

@iwaitforthestorm (Paul Verlaine)

JJBA

@catch-the-rainb0w (Blackmore)

Therapy with doctor Albert Krueger

@dralbertkrueger (Albert Krueger)

Ace Attorney

@firstclassattorney (Kristoph Gavin)

@mattengardedude (Matt Engarde)

@holy-mothers-servant (Nahyuta Sahdmadhi)

@i-really-lovemywife (Ron DeLite)

@loyaltomastersorin (Pierce Nichody)

@people-can-be-tamed (Simon Keyes/Simeon Saint)

@injusticeitrust (Bobby Fulbright)

@idontrobgraves (Enoch Drebber)

@peace-and-ascension (Claude D. Haze)

@foxes-and-criminals (Patricia Roland/Fifi Laguarde)

@ask-the-biggest-bully (Blaise Debeste/Excelsius Winner)

Danganronpa

@korkshinguji (Korekiyo Shinguji)

@lilultimateartist (Jataro Kemuri)

OMORI

@captainofspace (CAPT. SPACEBOY)

Genshin Impact

@ventithefamousbard (Venti)

Phantom of the Opera (game version by MazM)

@nameless-detective (The Detective)

@poor-old-phantom (Erik/The Phantom)

Mouthwashing

@runningfrom-responsibility (Captain Curly)

Homicipher

@ask-mr-scarletella (Scarletella)

@ask-mr-chopped (Mr. Chopped)

@ask-mr-gap (Mr. Gap)

ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴅ/ᴀᴅᴍɪɴ/ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ . . .

You can call me Kiji or certain nicknames if we're closer.

Things like 'dear', 'darling' etc. are fine, but I would prefer we talk a little before those are used.

I go by any pronouns, but mostly he/him.

My other interests are also at @kijimha.

I'm usually not one to start interactions due to anxiety, so forgive me...

NSFW roleplays are not welcome! NSFW/Suggestive questions are welcome, if they're played as something comedic. To further elaborate, I will not do serious explicit rp, but roleplays/asks where something NSFW is mentioned or if a joke is NSFW, that's fine.

BSD covers many triggering topics, such as SH, suicide, abuse, etc. I'll most likely NOT tag posts where any of these topics are mentioned.

ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ꜱɪɢᴍᴀ . . .

I personally headcanon him as intersex.

He/him or they/them is fine for him.

He isn't quite sure what his preferences are yet, but he's asexual.

His blood sugar goes low often due to sleeping issues & overall health issues.

Timeline is flexible.

He has imposter syndrome. It means he believes his achievements aren't enough or they're not good, even though he's proven worthy of his position and aforementioned achievements. People with imposter syndrome also have an internalized fear of being found out, believing they are a fraud.

Thank you!]

[therogueheart]

Familial | Evan Buckley & Bobby Nash

Relationship(s): Evan Buckley & Bobby Nash | Background Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz Rating: Gen Warnings: N/A

“Well, well, well, how the tables have turned.”

Buck flopped into the chair with a grin, all long legs and dark smudges under his eyes that betrayed his light mood.

“Is this where you lecture me on safety and tell me I’m benched for the next month?” Bobby croaked, turning his head with a tired smile. Buck looked down, scuffing his heels on the floor and shrugging.

“Nah. I’ve never been on that side of the lecture. I wouldn’t do it as good,” the kid smiled. “Besides. Doc said six weeks minimum, that’s longer than a month.”

“So it is,” Bobby agreed. He took a moment to observe Buck, to note the way he clenched his fingers around the chair arms, the torn skin on his lips and the way his hair lay in rampant curls, free of its usual pomade.

“When did you last sleep?” he asked, reaching for his water.

“I slept,” Buck answered, launching forwards to grab the glass and pass it over. Bobby took it with a patient, bemused smile.

“Uh huh. When?”

“Within the last three days,” Buck hummed vaguely. Bobby squinted at him but knew a losing fight when he saw one, so he dropped his sword with dignity.

“That for me?”

On his beside was a bundle of flowers, an ornate cross pinned in their midst and a lopsided teddy bear with a stuffed heart proclaiming get well soon, Dad!

Dad.

His heart ached, a deep, innermost pain different to the rest. Buck’s cheeks had flushed now, one knee bouncing where nerves had begun to stack like building blocks.

“Nah. They’re for the other guy,” Buck answered, even though Bobby had found himself in a private room. He gave a low hum and finally sipped his water, letting Buck set the glass down when he was done.

“Not that I’m expecting a parade–but where are the others?”

“Eddie bullied Athena into going home to eat something and shower. Hen and Chim are on B-shift, Eddie’s dropping Chris off at Abuela’s.”

Abuela’s. Not his Abuela’s. Just Abuela’s. Bobby fought off a weak smile, relaxing back against his pillow. He could’ve slept again, except a poorly stifled sniffle cut through the quietness.

“Buck?” he rolled over, catching Buck as he hastily tried to wipe his eyes. He was crying, Bobby realized, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. “Hey, hey. C’mere. We’re both okay.”

He opened his arms and after a moment of uncertainty his youngest pushed himself up, tripping across the room and folding that mile-long body onto the edge of the bed and into Bobby’s arms. He smelt like old aftershave and faded laundry detergent and the tar that masqueraded as coffee in the hospital cafeteria. 

It was a tight fit and he had no idea how Buck had managed to tuck his legs up so tight, but Bobby clutched at him all the same, petting through his hair and murmuring low comforts. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Buck hiccuped after a while, fingers twisting in the front of Bobby’s hospital gown. “I didn’t mean to cry. You're hurt and I’m making you take care of me, and—”

“Nobody could make me take care of you, Buck,” Bobby interrupted, scuffing him gently upside the head. “I do it because I want to. Because I’d do it anyway. I’m glad you’re here, and I’m glad I’ve got an excuse to hug you.”

Because Bobby had learned not to take hugging his loved ones for granted over the years. He’d learned that any and every hug could be the last. Not least; he’d learned that Buck had barely been hugged at all aside from Maddie, and if the Buckley parents weren’t going to step up then Bobby damn well would.

“You don’t need an excuse,” Buck sniffled, clutching him tighter. And no, Bobby didn’t. But Buck still had issues with asking for what he needed and if Bobby could ease that burden he would, as he’d ease all their ills.

“I’m an old man who likes to cling to his kids. Indulge me, spring chicken,” he murmured, movement in the doorway catching his eye. It was Athena, her expression soft and unguarded when she saw them, and when she met his gaze she pressed a finger to her lips and backed away with a smile.

How he adored her.

“I thought I lost you,” Buck rasped, shifting. And then; “don’t ever do that again!” in his best impression of Bobby’s ‘stern captain dad’ voice, as Buck called it. 

(And now, too, Eddie, because where Buck led Eddie followed.)

"Ain't gonna make no promises," Bobby managed in a poor imitation of Buck, though his voice ached with held back tears.

God, he loved this kid. He loved all his kids, of course, but there was something innate about Buck that brought out the paternal urge to protect and guide within him.

“You don’t have the right kind of Penny twang,” Buck snuffed, but some of the sorrow had lifted from him as he carefully tucked an edge of the pale blue blanket tighter around Bobby’s ribs.

“I can’t be good at everything,” Bobby shrugged ruefully, pursing his lips. And then, because it had to be said; “Buck. I know you’re blaming yourself. I want you to know none of this is on you. No blame, no responsibility, nothing.”

Buck’s face twisted.

“Don’t make me call Athena,” Bobby warned, and smiled when Buck abruptly dropped the brewing argument. Not for long, he was sure. Guilt had a way of sticking to Buck, but they could work on it.

“Now.” Petting at Buck’s arm, he turned a fond gaze to the ceiling. “Tell me how long you and Eddie have been dating in secret.”

Buck spluttered so hard Bobby was grateful they were already in a hospital.

“We’re not—!”

“I was dying, kid. Not blind. I saw that kiss.”

[frigginconfused]

For the (generous estimate of) ten people that care at this stage of development, this is the guide for creating a Doc n Bobby oc :)

[grayloch]

When I remade Bobby I I knew I had to remake Doc too because they have to go together, Friggin received a Doc and a Bobby from me so It’s time I have one of each 2.

Doc was much easier to make again but i attribute that to him being 60% leg as opposed to bobby’s 80% hair hahah

Doc of Course belongs to @frigginconfused​

Doc’s previous iteration from 2020,

[pink-sparkly-witch]

The One That Got Away - Chapter Nine

Warnings: flirting, nerves, a tiny bit of angst if you squint.

Word Count: 1.9k

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x Female Reader

A/N: I didn’t have a beta for this, so all mistakes are mine.

You can catch up here!

 My Masterlist AO3    Ko-Fi

“Good morning, Captain. How is my favourite patient today?” Y/N said as she walked into Dean’s room.

“I bet you say that to everyone in here, sweetheart!” Dean chuckled, and she giggled in response.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Bobby smiled as he stood to leave the room and gave them privacy - he hoped to talk, but he knew that wouldn’t happen while Dean was still a patient. Something about not dating patients or some bullshit.

“Thanks, Bobby,” Dean said, and Bobby nodded with a wink.

“What’s the latest, nurse?” Dean smirked at her, thinking–not for the first time–how beautiful she looked in her purple scrubs.

“Well, everything looks great, and your pain is manageable with over-the-counter meds now, so doc’s gonna bust you outta here today,” Y/N’s heart melted a little at the smile that lit up his entire face, making all the wariness leave him. She swore he looked ten years younger without stress and pain wrinkling his brow.

“Are you serious, Y/N/N?” Dean asked, and she nodded in amusement. “Well, Princess, that has got to be the best news I’ve had all week!”

“I’ll be glad to see you discharged,” she smiled softly as he tilted his head in hurt confusion. “It means you’ve healed, Dean. It means I’ve done my job, and you get to go home,” she giggled again as that bright smile broke out across his features.

“Have dinner with me?” Dean blurted out, and she bit her lip shyly.

“You’re supposed to be resting and taking it easy, De. You may be getting out of here, but your ribs still haven’t fully healed yet,” she tried to talk sense, but her resolve was failing the bigger his smirk got. That damn smirk would make her commit murder if he asked her.

“Well, the way I see it… I gotta eat… you gotta eat… why not eat together?”

“Dean…”

“Come on, Princess,” he said, and she swore if he brought out those damn puppy dog eyes… “I’m hardly able to cook you a three-course meal,” he chuckled as he gestured to himself. “But we do need to talk, and I’d like to do that sooner rather than later.

“I’ll order pizza from Gino’s and write down my address and phone number. Open invitation. Come if you want, or don’t. We need to talk, though, so if it’s not tonight, name the time and place, and I’ll be there.” Dean’s eyes were pleading with her, but before she could respond, there was a knock at the door, and he sighed in annoyance.

“Captain Winchester,” Dr Clark greeted cheerfully. “What do ya say we get you out of here today?”

“That’d be awesome, Doc,” Dean responded with a smile, but Y/N noticed it’d lost some of its happiness.

His eyes never left her as the doctor gave Dean her instructions for him to take it easy for another few weeks, and Y/N felt all her resolve disappear. 

“Alright, that’s everything from me. I’ll leave you in Nurse Singer’s capable hands. Take care of yourself, and take it easy for a few more weeks,” Dr Clark said as she handed Y/N his discharge papers and pain meds.

“Thanks, Doc,” Dean smiled tightly, and the doctor nodded and excused herself.

“Y/N-” he began to speak as soon as the door closed, but she cut him off before he could finish.

“Yes,” she grinned.

“Yes?” Dean repeated in shock.

“Yes. I’ll come over for dinner,” Y/N explained, and Dean didn’t think he could smile bigger. “On one condition.”

“Name it, Princess,” he answered immediately.

“I’ll cook for us,” Y/N insisted.

“No, I can’t ask you to do that,” he argued.

“Okay, first, you’re not asking. I’m offering. And second, you’ve been eating shitty hospital food for a week. You need a proper meal, De. I get off at four today. I’ll head home, get changed, go to the store, and then come over. Good?” The tone in her voice left Dean absolutely no room to argue back.

“Good. Looking forward to it,” Dean winked, and she smirked back at him.

“I’ll take this to the pharmacy and put your papers at the desk. Do you need some help getting dressed, or will you manage on your own?”

“You offering, sweetheart?” he smirked, pumping his eyebrows suggestively and laughing when she rolled her eyes at him.

“I’ll call Ash in to help if you don’t behave!” she laughed loudly at Dean’s mock look of horror.

“Thought so, handsome!” she winked as she turned to leave the room.

Y/N’s shift was finally over; this was the first time since starting here that she was grateful to finish on time. It seemed to be an unwritten rule at Memorial for the nurses to come in a half hour early for a full handover of patients and to take over any emergencies for those about to finish to get home on time.

She also noticed how everyone was happy to cover for everyone else; Jess came in early one day last week to allow Missouri Moseley time to go home and get ready for her son’s birthday party. Not to mention, Kevin Tran had stayed on for two hours this morning, allowing Jess to take her time at her antenatal appointment.

Seeing a family dynamic amongst the nursing staff with no hint of tit-for-tat attached to favours was refreshing. What surprised Y/N most was that no one noted what hours they covered and for whom. If this were Chicago, a whiteboard in the nurse’s break room would be filled with I.O.U notes.

Once she got home, she went straight for a shower, beyond grateful Jody had allowed her to replace and decorate however she wanted. Her nerves about going to talk to Dean had made her more nervous than she’d ever been, to the point that the tension in her shoulders was bringing her pain. Boy, did she need the pressure from the power shower she’d installed beating down on her right now!

Dressing in dark jeans, a white shirt and brown ankle boots, Y/N blow-dried her hair and tossed it into a messy bun. She scolded herself for thinking far too long about how much makeup to put on. When she was working, it was easier and much more practical to be bare-faced, but this was… well, she wasn’t sure what this was and finally settled on a light coat of foundation and some mascara.

She’d been on edge all day, and her emotions were everywhere. The scenarios of how tonight would go had been running through her mind since telling Dean she’d come over for tonight. Could they be friends? Could they try to be together again? Did he even want her to stay? Fuck, did he want anything with her?

Sure, he’d flirted with her in the hospital, but it was Dean fucking Winchester. He flirted with everyone with breasts, so that wasn’t anything to go on. Y/N knew she would have to play her cards close to her chest until she could figure out what was going on in his mind about her being back.

Checking her reflection for the last time, Y/N grabbed her purse, checked that she had everything she’d need for the evening and threw on her jacket. She left the apartment and quickly locked up before the doubts could creep in further, and she just called this whole thing off.

Pulling up next to the curb, Y/N couldn’t help her wide smile seeing the Impala parked in the driveway. John always promised to hand it over to Dean on his eighteenth birthday, and she desperately wished she could’ve been there to see it.

Killing the engine, she took a few deep breaths to calm her frazzled nerves and steady her composure. Once she felt more centred, she threw her purse over her shoulder and exited the car. Opening the trunk, she grabbed the groceries, and after one final deep breath, she walked up the path.

It was a beautiful house and looked to have at least three bedrooms on the second floor. The white picket fence looked freshly painted, and the lawn was neatly mown. She saw wicker furniture and a swing on the well-maintained porch. She thought the only thing that could make Dean’s house more inviting would be some colourful plants and flowers or some window boxes.

Y/N rang the doorbell and stepped back, turning around to take in the neighbourhood. Dean had done well for himself settling here. It was the kind of place he used to tell her about–his dream home–and that made her happier than she’d been in a long time.

“Hey,” Dean’s voice broke her from her thoughts, and she spun on her heel to face him, a content smile still gracing her face.

“Sorry, I was just admiring the neighbourhood,” Y/N explained with a chuckle. “Seems like a nice place.”

“Yeah, it’s great here,” Dean said as he moved away from the doorway, gesturing for her to enter. “It’s close to the station, Sammy and Jess live two blocks away, Benny three, and it’s not too close for unannounced visits from my parents!” Dean grinned at her laugh. “Are you settling into Jody’s place?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah. It took a while to get used to it because it’s so much quieter than I’m used to,” Y/N laughed. “My first night back in town, I stayed at Uncle Bobby and Jody’s place. I didn’t sleep at all because it was silent!”

“Really?” Dean chuckled, his eyebrows raising comically.

“Really!” she laughed. “My apartment in Chicago was downtown. The all-night traffic, sirens and drunken college students were like a lullaby to me! To be out in the middle of nowhere without even a ticking clock was a little bit unnerving!” she said as she followed him through to the kitchen and placed the bag of groceries down on the counter.

“Here, let me take your jacket,” Dean said.

“No, it’s fine. I don’t want you to over-exert yourself. I just got you out of the hospital. I’ll be damned if you end up back in ‘cause of me,” Y/N said as she put her purse next to the groceries, shrugged her jacket off, and hung it over one of his dining chairs.

“Now, sit,” she commanded, and he smirked over at her.

“Still bossy, I see,” Dean chuckled as he sat on a breakfast stool. Y/N smirked but chose to ignore him as she washed her hands.

“How are you feeling?” Y/N asked, turning back towards him, her soft gaze trained on his, clearly showing her concern.

“I’m fine, Y/N,” Dean replied honestly. “I still have some pain, but I can’t tell you how happy I am to be home. I’m looking forward to tonight in my own bed.”

“Good,” she nodded as she emptied the groceries from the brown paper bag. “I was thinking of what I could make that would be both nutritious and delicious, so I decided on beef stir-fry.”

“That sounds amazing,” he smiled.

“I only have two questions,” she said as she put both hands into the bag. “Do you want rice or noodles?” Y/N pulled a pack of each from out and held them up.

“Noodles!” Dean answered with a grin.

“Alright, and…” she dug into the bag with both hands again. “Apple or cherry?” Y/N grinned, holding out two pies for him to choose from. Dean’s boyish grin now made his eyes sparkle with happiness.

“Definitely cherry!”

Next Chapter >>

Tag list: @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @leigh70 @stoneyggirl2 @hobby27 @candy-coated-misery0731 @iprobablyshipit91 @twinkleinadiamondsky @mrsjenniferwinchester @spnwoman @snackles87 @perpetualabsurdity @hoboal87 @synmorite @nancymcl @trannydean @nic-kolas @jc-winchester @winchestergirl1720 @globetrotter28 @nelachu2423 @kayleighmeister @venicesem @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @suckitands33 @tristanrosspada-ackles @silentbutscreaming @lacilou @sandlee44 @kmc1989 @chriszgirl92 @ashbatz @k-slla @jamerlynn @waters-2567 @kazsrm67

[nescaveckwriter]

Saving Grace - Chapter 4 💓😭🩷

A/N: 🐞... While writing this chapter, the emotions were running high extremely high... So fair warning, grab a BOX of tissues 🤭🥺🥺 okay y'all... L💓VE y'all...!

Warnings: *18+ Only* Mentions of a medical condition, and dying ... bit swearing, heartache,🥹❤️

Characters: Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Benny Lafitte, Grace Tucker, Kelly Tucker 😍

Words: 1800-ish😊

Cover & Pictures: Pinterest, Canva, Google

Side Note: Songs not my own, also, Please check out my Masterlist for more, epic stories🐞💕

The old man’s voice is gruff as he speaks to Kelly “Listen the whole point of this album, and show is about touring” Kelly looks at him “Bobby it's simple you sign it or you don’t, Dean Winchester needs Grace more than she needs him, and you know that’s the truth”. Bobby couldn’t deny it, the truth in her words, and Kelly drove a hard bargain, so after some small changes, and a promise of a world tour in a year, he signed.

Kelly walked out of that meeting with Bobby feeling satisfied, and saddened, she promised the old man that Grace would do a world wide tour in a year, letting out a humourless chuckle… ‘Grace will be gone by then, she’s only got a few months left, and I just lied to an old man, great job Kelly, you a horrible damn person, she cussed herself. As she left the studio she tried her very best not to break down, hating the fact that Grace is so strong and all she wants to do is break down and cry, life ain’t fair. 

The thought of burying her sister in a few months overwhelmed her and she broke down crying in the middle of the hallway, tears streaming down her face, her body trembling as she keeps replaying the news they got, not so long ago, the doctor’s words tumbling around “Sorry Grace the scan’s” the doctor’s tone turned sympathetic “honey I’m sorry you have less than a year left” she looked at the doctor then at Grace and she just smiled and said “Then I’ll make the best of the few months I have left, thanks Doc” she looked at Grace like she didn’t understand what he said , but she did. And Kelly wanted to do was break down, scream and shout, and curse and yell, at how it can be possible that her lovely, kind hearted sister could be taken away so early from her.

A hand on Kelly’s shoulder snapped her out of her thoughts, the greenest of green eyes met hers, a gruff voice “Hi? You okay?” she immediately knew who it was, not just was she a fan of his music, but her Fiance, is the drummer for him, and Grace raved on about him, of course she wouldn’t admit but she likes him, and not just about his singing voice. Kelly smiled brushed her tears away and said “yeah, fine thanks Dean” 

Smiling “You don’t look fine?” 

She nearly bit his head off “I’m fine dammit, just leave me the hell alone” Dean raised his hands in the air “Hell I’m just trying to be nice for once, and this is the reaction I get” he huffs “And people still wonder why I prefer Jack Daniels?” he just walked off growling something to himself. And Kelly was left standing, feeling ashamed and heartbroken, she couldn’t tell him the reason. Grace made everyone promise that on one should know, she doesn’t want to be treated like some kind of fragile person, but hell she was fragile. She started making her way out of the building to the car, time to act as if everything is just fine, like her sister is going to die.

Dean walked into the studio, huffing, the little muscle in his jaw jumping. He shot Benny a look “What the hell is the matter with your fiance?” Benny was so confused “Excuse me?” Dean growled “I tried comforting the woman and she bit my head off” Benny nearly jumped up from his sitting position “where is she, is she okay?” Dean glared at him “hell if I know!”.Benny didn’t answer, he shot out of there like a man on a mission, leaving Dean there, still kind of ticked off about the whole situation. 

Grace sat there reading, and humming to the songs they’ll be recording together, she made sure to get some rest the night before, drinking lots of water. She heard them stetson boots on the floor, and there he was, plain old jeans, a black t-shirt and white-creamish cowboy hat, and she could’ve sworn her breathing hitched, but hey she has a heart problem, so it ain’t got nothing to do with him right? His voice broke through, bouncing off the wall “Howdy Grace?” she smiled and greeted “Morning, ready to do this?” he gave her a cocky smile “darling I’m born ready”, shaking her head, laughing a little “good thing your humble?” he found his seat next to her, his forest green eyes piercing her “Oh Honey, why should I be humble, people love me” she tossed her strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder “Oh your pretty smug aren’t you?” he laughed “what can I say darling? I am just confident! She shook her head “nope the word your looking for are arrogant!” he mocked offence “ouch, you know how to humble a man don’t ya?” she giggled and it sounded like a choir of joyful angels, “Nah! Just simply keeping you in check”. He smirked “Alright Miss Humble, why don’t we start with this song?” he tapped on the paper and she nodded, “yeah alrighty let’s do this cowboy”.

She started with the few first verses…

I pushed him away

And carefully said

I'm just not that kind of girl

You might think I'm square

'Cause you've been around and you're wise

In the ways of the world

I know that making is taking for granted

It's all easy come, easy go

He pulled me close and whispered

His gruff voice begun…

Now darlin' there's something I want you to know

I still believe in Waltzes

And girls with old fashioned ways

I still believe in love songs

In the good, in the good ole days

I've always liked happy endings

Somebody's dream coming true

I still believe in Waltzes

And dancing the last one with you

She pitched in again…

He slipped into bed, I turned over and said

I'm worried you working so late

Is it just your job that keeps you away, Lord

I know the temptations are gray

I'm just a wife, I'm just a momma

It's not too exciting I know

He pulled me close and whispered those same words

He told me that night long ago

His voice drew …

I still believe in Waltzes

And girls with old fashioned ways

I still believe in love songs

At the end, both of them started to sing in harmony 

In the good, in the good ole days

I've always liked happy endings

Somebody's dream coming true

I still believe in Waltzes

And I'll dance the last one with you

We still believe in Waltzes

When they hit those last notes, they were so in sync, like they’ve been doing it for years, Dean let out an impressed chuckle “damn that was amazing” Grace nodded excitedly, “yes that was perfect, that was amazing, the way you came in on that first verse ‘now darling’ that was mind blowing” while she explained she gestured with her hands, and he couldn’t really make out the rest, of her sentence because he got mesmerised by the way her lips moved as she spoke, watching intently, the way it curved, the way it pursed together with certain words, and then finally as she spoke and her tongue darted out, wetting her lips, to speak further, all he could think is how is it possible for one woman, to do such an innocent act, that was downright turning him on. He had to take a sip of water to cool himself down, and then he heard her sweet voice “You okay Dean?” he just simply nodded and gestured that he was thirsty. She simply smiled and took a few sips of water herself. 

Bobby, who was sitting, listening and watching to them, handed them the next song, and Dean shot him a somewhat uncomfortable glare, but of course the old man didn’t care. After Dean adjusted he started strumming on the guitar, and looked at her, smiling, a smile reaching his eyes. As he sang the first verse he knew never had a song felt so true, because he’d really love to lay her down.

There's a lot of ways of sayin' what I want to say to you

There's songs and poems and promises and dreams that might come true

But I won't talk of starry skies or moonlight on the ground

I'll come right out and tell you I'd just love to lay you down

Lay ya down and softly whisper pretty love words in your ear

Lay ya down and tell you all the things a woman loves to hear

I'll let you know how much it means just havin' you around

Oh darlin', how I'd love to lay you down

A slight pinkish colour crept onto her cheeks as he glanced directly into his eyes, falling in with the next verse…

There's so many ways your sweet love made this house into a home

You've got a way of doin' little things that turn me on

Their voices collided with the next few verses, and they couldn’t keep their eyes off each other, emotions running high, their voices, singing the words their hearts and bodies wanted so badly…

Oh darlin', how I'd love to lay you down

Lay ya down and softly whisper pretty love words in your ear

Lay ya down and tell you all the things my woman loves to hear

I'll let you know how much it means just havin' you around

Oh darlin', how I'd love to lay you down

Lay ya down and softly whisper pretty love words in your ear

Lay ya down and tell you all the things my woman loves to hear

I'll let you know how much it means just havin' you around

Oh darlin', how I'd love to lay you down

The song ends and the air is palpable with so much unspoken desire, and need, to simply taste each other’s lips, the two of them stared at each other, Dean slightly leaning in, merely inches away from finally giving in and tasting her lips, but the moment was ruined by Grace getting up and walking out hastily, mumbling something about she needs fresh air. Dean groaned out of frustration, he could’ve sworn she felt the electricity too, but no, she just left.

Grace hurried outside, trying to catch her breath. Before she knew it, she called Kelly, before Kelly could properly greet her, Grace rambled on “Sis, I’m in big trouble, the man… I nearly kissed, I nearly kissed him, I can’t feel this way… why do I feel this way, I barely know him… I can’t be falling in love with him.. Can I ..?” Kelly’s heart broke, she knew what her sister meant, “Gracie, sweetie… I don't know what to say!” Grace’s voice came out sounding slightly brittle, “This can't be happening… why? I can’t be falling in love now” Not now! Why did he have to be him” she grunted. 

Kelly tried to calm her down, knowing she shouldn’t exert herself, “please calm down, please”. Grace broke down for the first time since she got the news “K…Kelly, I can’t fall in love with Dean, I am going die in a couple of months, and I can’t imagine a future, because there is now future, there is now, rainbows, and roses, candle light dinners, whispering loving words to each other, there is nothing, that’s certain” barely audible through the crying “the only thing that my future holds, is my heart stopping in a few months, or weeks or days…” all you could hear on both ends off the phone calls, is heart shattering sobbing. 

@jackles010378 @winchesterwild78 @k-slla @angelbabyyy99

[fandomnerd9602]

Please A Spider M!reader, pregnant Barbie and the spider gang are decorating the nursery room for the twins boys, Bobby and buddy since the due date is on Halloween 🎃 The spider gang are surprised dr octopus is one of the good guys when he visits the dating couple huge mansion for a check-up for the unborn twins

Doc Ock: hello Y/N, Barbie!

All the spider folks go on edge...

Noir: why is he here?!

Barbie: he's my pediatrician!

Y/N: Dr. Octavius is our family doctor on our world

Doc Ock: am I a villain on every other world? My tentacles were meant to be a tool for science! Now let's check on the two bundles of joy.

[pkg4mumtown]

Burning

Pairing: Bobby Nash x Male!Reader

Rating: Mature

AO3 (highly reccomend reading on AO3 for the iOS workskin): Read Here

Summary: You’re finally cleared by your doctor for normal activities—not by your Captain of course—but Athena thinks you two can bend the rules a little bit. What happens when you finally run into the 118 team that Athena has mentioned?

A/N: My first 9-1-1 fic! It’s been a long time coming! Takes place a few months or more after the tsunami episode, so the timeline might not be all correct but…oh well. As much as I adore Bathena, it’s not established in this fic and for all intents and purposes, they’re just friends. There is art scattered in the fic and there is my interpretation of the main character but in no way is that how he has to look—there are no specific descriptors in the writing for hair, eyes, skin color, etc. By all means, if you’d like to create your own version of him, I’d love to see it!

Warnings: canon typical injuries, male!reader (no y/n), mentions of blood and burns, first kiss, Bi!Bobby, older man/younger man, meet cute

“Sergeant Grant,” I grinned with a sing-songy lilt to my voice, leaning back in my seat as I looked up at her.

Groaning and flexing my forearm for the fourth time that morning, I sighed and closed the file on my desk and pushed it aside. I reached for my coffee mug with my good hand before pulling it back and reaching for it with the arm I could actually use now. I grimaced as lukewarm liquid touched my lips, having half a mind to get up and warm it up when I heard a couple short raps on the doorframe of the office I was inhabiting in the short term.

“How’s the arm doing, Officer?” she grinned with her voice equally as playful while dropping my last name, with her own coffee clasped between her hands.

“Oh you know…” I shrugged, putting it through some motions. “Doc said I didn’t have to wear a sling anymore and I can start working it out again at a hundred percent, so that’s good.”

“If it's any consolation, you don’t look like you lost muscle in that arm,” she pursed her lips and laughed.

“It’s nice to know someone’s looking,” I chuckled, taking another disgusting sip. “So, what can I do for you?”

“It’s more like what I can do for you,” she sauntered in and took a seat across from me. “I spoke to Cap and she might have agreed for me to take you out on patrol with me.”

“No…” I breathed in disbelief, knowing full well the Captain had just told me I wasn’t cleared for leading field work yet or training any new officers.

“Unless you’re too busy, of course,” Athena dismissed, scooting her chair back and standing up, gesturing to the pile of folders on my desk with her eyebrows.

“Not too busy!” I exclaimed quickly, standing before she could leave the room. “It’s just busy work and evaluations anyway…”

“Are you su—“

“—very sure,” I responded before she could finish, grabbing my bag and vest for patrol from the floor next to me.

Athena simply gave me an amused grin and nodded her head for me to follow her out.

“Don’t laugh at me, I was going crazy stuck to a desk, Athena.”

“I’m not surprised, you hyperactive man-baby.”

—

We prepped her patrol car, making sure everything was situated and tossing my bag in the trunk of the Explorer. I hesitated in the back, looking at my body armor secured to my bag. Before the tsunami, I would have had it on as soon as I got to the station, but being on desk duty for the last few months, I hadn’t needed it. It was unlikely I would need it in Athena’s beat, but I knew I would feel less uneasy with it on.

Now, I just had to get it on without completely disrobing or jostling my shirt-stays. As I contemplated my predicament, I undid my uniform shirt all the way down to my belt. I opened the Velcro flaps on my vest and began an awkward shimmy of sliding the back of the vest underneath and behind my collar, sliding my head through the middle, and letting the front flap over my chest. I rolled my shoulders to let it fall in place on its own and tugged my open shirt to get any material stuck underneath the vest out. When I was situated, I closed up the Velcro sides snuggly and buttoned up my shirt.

“Are you lost or—“ Athena asked impatiently—having already checked to make sure the vehicle was in order—coming around to the back of the patrol vehicle while I fussed with my buttons.

“Sorry, one sec,” I offered apologetically.

“I’m not taking you to any high risk calls, so don’t get too excited,” she laughed saying my name like that of an over-eager child. “Cap would have my head.”

“Hey, take it easy on me, Athena. I used to work narcotics and those calls were never chill, so this puts me at ease a little.”

“Alright, alright. Hurry up, before I tell Cap about that very non regulation patch on your body armor,” she gave me a pointed look, glancing down at the terrible sewing job I had done on my body armor that held a small pansexual flag. The Sergeant pushed her sunglasses up to her face but not before winking in my direction to let me know she was joking.

Piling in to the Explorer, Athena immediately got on the radio, “This is 727-A-30, we are 10-8.”

I tuned out the radio conversation after that, knowing Athena would be giving our info to dispatch quickly as we pulled out of the station. 

—

We started patrolling her beat, finding it fairly quiet but knowing better than to voice that out loud. Not twenty minutes into our patrol shift, did Athena’s phone start pinging messages in quick succession from where it hung in the dash mount. 

“Damn, ‘Thena, you got a hot date or what?” I snorted, trying to sneakily grab her phone but telegraphing my movements purposely so she’d slap me away.

“Oh shut it,” she slapped my arm. “Your doctor cleared you so I won’t feel bad if I have to hit you harder.”

“I expect nothing less, sarge,” I grinned. “But, come on, you know I love me some chisme, cough it up.”

“It’s nothing,” she rolled her eyes, quickly replying as we stopped at a red light.

“Oooh, is it about me?” I waggled my eyebrows, while she gave me a blank stare from behind her sunglasses.

The patrol car was silent for a few moments, the only sound being from outside the car and the radio faintly playing.

“Yes, it was about you,” I finally heard her mumble.

“I knew it! Let me see!” I made grabby hands for her phone.

“I’m gonna regret this,” she sighed and tossed the phone in my lap.

I laughed as I scrolled to the beginning of the conversation, someone by the name of “Maddie” starting off by asking who I was and why I was with Athena when she usually patrolled solo, with the eyes emoji to end the question.

The transfer from Pacific I told you about! - Athena

Ooh! Pics! I remember you talking about him! He sounds hot! -Maddie

Pics! -Hen

Show us! -Eddie

He’s a dork, but he’s cool. - Athena

Oh, he IS hot! -Maddie

Seconded! -Eddie

Hey! -Buck

Sorry… -Eddie

You’re right, though -Buck

I’m NOT asking out a subordinate, stop it -Athena

“Hey, I’m not a dork,” I teased.

“You so are.”

“How did this Maddie person know I was with you so fast anyway…?” I drifted off as another text came in.

“She’s a dispatcher. Everyone else there is from the 118. Her brother and boyfriend are with the 118, too. You’ll probably run into them a lot on patrol, that’s how I met them anyway.”

You definitely withheld the hot part from me, Athena -Bobby

Ooooo, Cap! -Hen

“Ooh, firefighters…mmm,” I sighed dreamily just to annoy her. “And who is Bobby? He looks fine as hell and he just called me hot.” I hurriedly clicked on his contact photo to get a better look.

“The 118 Captain. I knew your gay little heart wouldn’t be able to resist him,” she laughed and took the phone from me.

“I’m not gay, ‘Thena, I’m pansexual. You know this!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You just only talk about the guys, so I forget sometimes.”

“That’s because they usually have the most drama,” I snorted. “So, you’re forgiven.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s straight, though. Well, I’ve never heard him talk about going out with any men, so I suppose I’m just assuming.”

“Oh, I will be devastated if he is,” I rolled my eyes and sighed. “What about you?”

“Nah, after Michael…I’ve been taking some time for me. I didn’t want to jump into anyone’s arms, I’m too focused on my kids after the divorce, you know?”

“Aw, yea, I understand. But, you know I’d take you out in a heartbeat if you let me,” I shot her a smile.

“You are too young for me!” She scoffed and shook her head.

“No, you’re just experienced,” I winked. “Also, I take offense to that. I’m in my thirties with two degrees and a career, ma’am.”

“Lord help me.”

—

“911, What’s your emergency?”

“My mother! She’s out of control! THIS IS A NIGHTMARE!” wild screaming arises in the background, “Get away from me! YOU’VE OFFICIALLY LOST IT!”

“This is dispatch requesting a unit at 294 Moreno Drive. Reports of a family disturbance and possible assault.”

“Dispatch, this is 727-A-30 handling.”

“10-4, 727-A-30.”

Athena flicked the sirens and lights on and sighed heavily as we sped off to the call, “Oh boy.”

—

“727-A-30, 10-97 on scene,” Athena announced into her radio.

“I’m just saying, thin crust is delicious but my fat ass will eat the whole thing. So, I never allow myself to get it!” I groaned to Athena.

“Or you could have some self control lik—”

I glared at Athena and smirked thinking my glare cut her off but saw her staring past me.

“You’re psychotic! All of you!” a high pitched yell sounded as the front door of the house ripped open.

A middle-aged woman wielding a brightly colored, tissue paper covered stick stormed out of the house followed by a flock of elderly people.

“I told you not to come!” a half dressed older lady shouted back at her.

Oh shit. I immediately averted my eyes at the sight, hearing Athena chuckle behind me.

“It’s your birthday! I was just supposed to ignore that!?” She flailed the stick around.

“Obviously!”

“Mom, did you order strippers!?” the woman screamed, finally noticing Athena and me.

“Honey, you called 911,” an older man, likely her father, spoke up from next to her mother.

“Well, Mom was stripping and doing body shots!”

“I just turned seventy! Let me live a little! Also, you hit me with that stick!”

“Yea, to knock some sen—”

“Okay!” I spoke up, ending the argument. “I’m flattered you think I could pass as a stripper but I’m going to have to ask you to put the piñata stick down, ma’am,” I held my hands out as non-threateningly as possible. When she didn’t immediately put it down, I cocked my head and gave a slower warning, “Ma’am…”

“Yea, yea, fine,” she rolled her eyes and thrust the stick at me. 

I jumped but grabbed it tightly and and took it from her hands. Athena took it from me and held it far out of reach.

“Now, are we pressing charges and do you need medical attention?” I looked pointedly at the mother.

“No…no…” the mother waved me off.

“Press charges against me? I called you!”

“You also assaulted someone, so it doesn’t matter who called us,” I sighed, resting my hands on my duty belt. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave the property.”

The woman huffed and stomped off, making Athena and me sag with relief. 

“I hope you have a nice rest of your party, ma’am,” I smiled and nodded my head to her, her husband, and the rest of the guests who had come out onto the lawn.

I turned back toward Athena, my eyes widening comically and mouthing, “Oh my god,” with an exasperated expression.

“Hey, you said you liked a little experience…” Athena laughed as we got in the car.

“Shut up,” I mumbled with a smirk.

“727-A-30, 10-98.”

“I need some bleach for my eyes,” I sighed heavily.

—

“911, What’s your emergency?”

“I’m trapped! There’s a—a huge pile up on—“ the caller wheezed, “—Wilshire.”

“911, What’s your emergency?” 

“The traffic lights! They’re all green! There’s a huge accident on Wilshire and Irolo.”

“911, What’s your emergency?”

“I’m the manager at Bank of Hope on Wilshire and Vermont, we just had a robbery take place. I think they hit Wells Fargo, too!”

“All available units in the vicinity of Wilshire and Irolo, please respond to a pileup in the intersection for traffic control. Firehouse 118 is arriving on scene shortly.”

“727-A-30, responding,” Athena answered immediately and made a u-turn while turning on the lights and sirens.

“10-4, 727-A-30. Please be advised, 211 just took place on Wilshire and Vermont. A unit has already been dispatched but witnesses report the getaway car heading toward the accident intersection. Suspect is 10-29FD possibly carrying a knife. Gun was left at the scene.”

“10-4, Dispatch. Patch me in to Captain Nash.”

There was silence before the radio crackled finally.

“This is Captain Nash.”

“Bobby, I’m on route to the accident, use extreme caution. Suspect is armed.”

“Athena, dispatch notified us that it was a knife. Have a little faith, I think we can take it,” he chuckled over the radio.

“Bobby…”

“We’ll be looking out, don’t worry. Just arrived on scene.”

Bobby cut out leaving us to listen to the sirens as we sped to the scene.

“Responders, please be advised the getaway vehicle was a black sedan.”

“10-4.”

“Dispatch, there’s three black sedans, proceeding with caution,” Bobby interjected.

We pulled up to the scene eight minutes later, seeing a horrific display of mangled cars, smoke, and flames. A couple LAPD units had already arrived on scene and started directing traffic away from the intersection. Firefighters, the 118 I assumed, were split up around the cars to attend to as many people as they could.

“You find one black sedan, I’ll find another. Clear it and head to the last one.”

“Copy that,” I clipped and opened the door, immediately dropping my hand to my taser to pull out if needed.

I jogged over to where one of the cars was, slowing down as I approached to be able to assess the situation better. I rounded other cars cautiously but didn’t immediately see anyone that screamed “robber” at me, nor evidence of a robbery in the car as I approached it.

I jumped as my radio crackled, “Responders, Station 122 is arriving shortly for medical back up.”

“Athena!” I called out in her general direction, “Clear over here!”

“Here, too! Dispatch, suspect has not been located yet.”

“I’m heading to the nex—” I called out, stopping when I saw an unresponsive woman in her car just a few down from the one I had checked.

The car next to hers had caught fire, which had spread near hers. Her car was leaking fluid, making me curse and not want to find out what it was until it was too late.

“I need an extinguisher here!” I shouted.

I saw a couple of the 118’s heads pop up and look in my direction. Captain Nash's distinctive helmet nodded to his other teammates before running toward the fire truck. 

“Don’t move the victim!” I heard one of them yell.

“She can’t wait! This whole this is about to go up!”

I tried for the door handle but it was dented and crushed. The front of the car was too close to the flames for comfort, so I hastily pulled out a knife and cut the seat belt off her. Leaning into the window to drag her out, my duty belt caught on the broken glass and twisted metal so I couldn’t fully clutch her. With a growl, I let go and unbuckled my belt, letting it drop to the floor and kicking it away from the flames. The fire had spread to the front of her car, licking and burning at my skin as I reached in again for her. I didn’t register any pain from the adrenaline, not stopping until she was fully out of the car and in my arms as I watched the car fully engulf.

“Officer, put her here,” Captain Nash instructed me, running up with a group of EMTs and heading straight to the fire to put it out. 

I placed the woman on the stretcher, making sure they took her to safety as I fetched my belt and strapped it back around my waist. It wasn’t until I cinched it closed that I felt a searing pain in my side just underneath my vest. My breath hitched and a groan of pain escaped my lips, causing Bobby to do a double take as he worked on the flames. I gulped—swaying on my feet as the pain fully registered and threatened to send me into shock—but clenched my teeth as I finished the buckle.

With a nod to Captain Nash, I waited for a responding nod before jogging off to find Athena.

“Sergeant! Nothing…” I slowed my run as I approached her, turning into a slow jog with a limp as it caused more chafing to occur against my wound.

“Nothing at this one either,” she sighed, shaking her head as she took another look in the car. “Either way, this car can’t have been it. It’s too close to the beginning of the pileup. The suspect would have been closer to the outside.”

“You’re right,” I grimaced.

“What’s wrong with you?” She furrowed her brows and stepped over menacingly.

“Nothing. I’m fine, I—,” I paused as her words hit me. “The first one I checked was on the outside…the door was open but it was empty inside I—.”

Shit.

Bobby was over there alone now.

“Captain!” I turned an ran, seeing him speaking with someone near where I left him.

The scene was loud, understandably so, but I slowed as I neared anyway to avoid spooking the potentially dangerous suspect.

“Look, sir, it’s my job to make sure you’re okay. That cut on the side of your head looks pretty bad,” Bobby held his palms out to the man who was clad in all black and clutching a gym bag to his chest. “At least let me make sure you don’t have a concussion,” Bobby stepped closer again.

From where the man’s back was facing me, I saw a glint of metal appearing from his back pocket and felt adrenaline surge through my veins. I took the remaining steps forward and lunged, wrapping my whole hand around his wrist and shoving it up so it was pinned against his lower to mid back.

“Drop it!” I growled. When he didn’t immediately comply, I repeated myself, “Drop it, or I will make you.”

At the lack of movement I bent his wrist inward with my free hand and used the pain of the wrist lock to force him to open his hand. When the knife clattered to the floor, I kicked it away and began slapping cuffs on the man. The bag was cut from his body, since I had trapped it on his body with his arms in cuffs, and Athena took the liberty of guiding him to a free unit to take him in while reading him his rights.

“Come on, I think I could have taken him?” Bobby chuckled as Athena dragged the suspect away. “But thank you.”

I shot him a glare that was soon diluted by a smirk. The smirk soon faded away as my wound throbbed, so I leaned my weight on the car next to me. Whatever the hell I did hurt. A lot. 

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm, just taking a second,” I groaned as I straightened back up. “I should help…”

“Whoa, there,” Bobby stopped me with a hand gripping my tricep, steadying me as I wobbled. “You’re not fine. And anyway, the 122 is here and helping. It’s under control.”

I slumped, watching the firefighters work, but knew he was right. Athena was going to kill me. Then, Bobby was going to resurrect me. And then, my Captain was going to kill me all over again.

“Let me check it out?” He asked, though it definitely felt like more of a gentle demand than a question.

I nodded and let him guide me to the 118 Paramedic truck.

He sat me on the edge of the truck and jumped into the back to clean his hands and find supplies. When he came back out, his hands were covered in black medical gloves and his arms were full of random items.

“You’re gonna have to uh…” he gestured to my torso with his head as he laid the supplies down in the entry way of the back doors of the truck. 

I stood, stepping out of his way as he opened the second door wider for me to place my belt and uniform. The duty belt came off first, making me wince. I watched the firefighter’s eyebrows raise as he saw the slashed front and tattered side of my uniform shirt. The belt fell to the metal flooring with a heavy thud. I paused, willing the pain to subside before moving on to my shirt but to no avail.

“Shirt, too,” Bobby stood with his hands clasped down in front of him. “Or I can cut it off.”

“No need, Captain, just give me a sec,” I grunted and started undoing the buttons.

The hard part came when I had to shrug the shirt off. The movements made me tense up and clench my teeth.

“May I?” Bobby offered with medical shears in hand. “Not like you can wear that shirt again, anyway.”

“Fair enough…”

Bobby made quick work of the uniform shirt, cutting away as much as he could so I wouldn’t have to twist at all. He dropped his hands to where the shirt met my trousers, tugging the material forcefully out of my shirt stays—causing me to wince as the elastic snapped down my legs. He undid the Velcro of my body armor and lifted it over my head. He paused, taking in the slashed material below my patch. Luckily, only the outer covering had been frayed a bit, but no damage to the internal armor.

“Good thing you had this on, could have sliced yourself when you grabbed him,” Bobby indicated to the slice. His thumb ran over the small pink, yellow, and cyan patch, “Nice,” he smirked before setting that aside with my duty belt.

“Yea,” I jumped as he lifted my undershirt, some of my skin catching on the cotton. “You know what that is?”

“‘Course I do,” he stated matter-of-factly and sat on the edge of the truck so he was eye level with my affected side, below where the body armor had covered. “Pansexual flag, right?”

Surprised, I was too shocked to react when he began cleaning the wound, only reacting with a hiss when the delayed sting of antiseptic sunk in.

“Don’t look so shocked,” he laughed, dabbing at the wound to make sure there was nothing foreign in it. “I’m Bi.”

Still speechless, I simply held my shirt up for him as he worked with my mouth slightly open in shock.

“Again, don’t look so surprised,” he chuckled.

“It’s just…sorry. Sorry,” I laughed. “Athena thought you were straight.”

“Talking about me, huh?” He chuckled, making my face heat up before he continued, “Don’t worry, we’ve all discussed you plenty. And, anyway, I mean I’ve never expressly said it. Nor, have I publicly dated a man,” he shrugged. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it, of course.”

By now, Bobby had stopped working on the wound and was just staring up at me with an amused expression on his handsome face. 

“You should close your mouth before you catch something with it, Officer.”

Without thinking, I blurted out my name and immediately apologized, “Sorry, uh, you can…yea you can just call me…yea.”

“Bobby,” he offered me. “Well,” he sighed my name, causing shivers to go up my spine. “Laceration isn’t too deep, you won’t need stitches, thankfully, but it’s also not going to feel nice because the area gets a lot of movement and creasing. The burn around it is pretty enflamed. You won’t need anything major done but this’ll take some time to heal. I have some burn cream if you want it?”

“Please, thank you,” I cleared my throat, hoping to get rid of the raspy, huskiness that had developed. 

Soon, cold, white paste was being gently applied to the burned area and then he was covering it with gauze and tape. I let my under shirt fall back down into place, catching a split second where Bobby’s eyes flicked to the rest of my abdomen before it was covered. 

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” he smiled, pausing briefly to look at his boots. “Would yo—.”

“Cap is going to murder me,” Athena groaned from behind me, startling me out of whatever trance Bobby had pulled me into. “What the hell happened?”

“I—I’m okay…”

“Just a cut and a burn, ‘Thena, he’ll live,” Bobby chuckled, standing and snapping off the gloves now smeared with cream.

“Next time warn your partner before you go gallivanting into a burning car?” 

“Sorry,” I smiled. 

“Mhmm,” she responded, entirely unconvinced. “I gotta get him out of here, Bobby. Is he good to go?” Athena asked, tearing Bobby’s attention from me to her.

“Oh, uh, yea he’s perf—good, he’s good,” Bobby stumbled, a flush creeping up his neck. “It was nice to finally meet you.”

“You as well, Captain Nash,” I smiled, biting the inside of my cheek. I hastily grabbed my duty belt and shredded shirt before following Athena to her patrol car, waving to Bobby with a wince as my skin stretched.

We sat in the silence of the car for a few beats before Athena burst into laughter.

“You damn flirt, I knew it,” she laughed at me.

“Athena, he’s hot,” I whined. “Did you really expect me not to?”

“How about, we don’t tell Captain the extent of your injuries and I won’t tell anyone how shamelessly you flirted with Bobby.”

“To be fair—” I interjected, “—he totally flirted back.”

—

After a stern talking to—in the form of shouting—from our Captain, Athena and I cleaned up, changed, and were confined to the station for the rest of our shift. Athena assured me that we weren’t in actual trouble before we left the station to go home, making me at ease since the last thing I wanted was for her to get in trouble for my stupidity.

Currently, I was too hungry to dwell on it.

I was salivating over a pot of sautéing garlic, crushed red pepper, and oregano for a quick and easy red sauce and stirring loosely so they didn’t burn.  Letting out a wild yawn and grunt, wiping my hands on the towel slung over my bare shoulder and turning to open the refrigerator, feeling my side twinge as I did. I yanked out a protein drink and downed it in two gulps, hoping to stave off my hunger while I cooked, before turning toward my designated medicine cabinet in the kitchen and popping a couple pain relievers. I got back to work and was just picking up a tube of tomato paste, ready to squeeze it in when there was a hesitant knock, followed by two firmer ones. 

I certainly wasn’t expecting any guests, but grumbled and shut off the flame under my pot just in case and moved it to a cool burner. It would be a tragedy if my garlic burned, after all. I didn’t even think twice about my state of undress, clad in only a pair of sweats and socks—with my kitchen towel over my shoulder—before I was yanking my door open to find the last person I expected to be on the other side of it.

Bobby. Dressed in jeans and a worn button down with his hands stuffed in his pockets, he immediately yanked them out and stood straighter like he had at the scene earlier.

“Hey, uh, hope this isn’t too strange—uh,” he scratched the back of his head. “I—uh—wasn’t sure if you had any burn cream and I forgot to sneak you some earlier.”

I didn’t know what to say, my mouth opening and shutting a couple times, “No—I—I was actually going to Instacart some so you saved me a few dollars.”

“Ours is better anyway,” he chuckled before his smile dropped again. “I—er—got your address from Athena, sorry if that was not…good.”

“It’s fine. I’ll give her a stern talking to about giving my address to strange men,” I smiled at his good natured laugh and opened my door wider. “Do you want to come in? I was just making dinner if you’re hungry.”

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude. You look…busy,” he cleared his throat, clearly avoiding looking at my bare chest.

I looked down at myself and chuckled, “Not busy enough to put a shirt on, clearly. But I could be…” I relished watching his neck flush up to his cheeks, “Come on in, I hear you’re the resident cook at the firehouse. I need a chef’s opinion on this sauce.”

Bobby perked up at the offer, “Well, if it’s a professional opinion you need…” He stepped through the doorway, shoulder brushing my chest as he tugged the towel off my shoulder and promptly slapped it over his own in transit. 

“Give me one sec, let me grab a shirt,” I said, jogging over to where I had a black t-shirt thrown over my couch. I did a three-sixty to make sure the rest of the living room wasn’t a complete mess.

“You don’t have to, it’s your apartment,” he mumbled. “Plus, I’m sure that hurts to put on,” Bobby finally looked over at me, his gaze unmistakably on my exposed skin.

“Ah, well,” I shrugged, tugging the shirt on the arm of the injured side, maneuvering my other arm in, and flinging the rest over my head. I smirked to myself when the material clung tightly to my body, probably one size too small for me. “It hurt more taking it off, honestly, and I don’t wanna be too underdressed,” I grinned.

I jogged quickly back over to the kitchen, sliding in my socks near the end and found Bobby gazing at me with an amused upturn of his lips with his arms folded tightly over his chest. Fuck. 

“Had to turn the flame off to answer the door, so let me get this warm again,” I hummed. “Alexa! Play my ‘Oldies but Goodies’ playlist on low.” I ignored her response and immediately began humming and swaying to myself as Billy Joel started playing while I brought the ingredients back up to a good temperature.

“Really? Is that because I’m here?” Bobby shoved my shoulder.

“Hey! I’ll have you know I was raised on this!” I pushed back before grabbing the tube of tomato paste off the counter. I was opening the tube when I stopped and just about broke my neck looking at him quickly.

The sudden movement broke him put of whatever trance he was in while watching me cook, eyes widening in surprise, “What?”

“I’m so rude. Can I get you something to drink? I have water, juice, and—er—protein shakes. I think that’s it.”

“Water's fine, I can get it. Fridge?” at my hum of affirmation he opened the refrigerator behind me and looked back at me in the small space, his voice suddenly very close to my back and neck, “Want one?”

I cleared my suddenly dry throat, “Please.”

Licking my lips, I set back to work and squeezed the paste in the pot before stirring it in. 

“Here you go,” he set the bottle on the counter before twisting his own open and taking a sip.

I fumbled with closing the tube of paste nearly dropping the cap, “Shit—ah!” I squeaked and snatched the cap as it fell. “Sorry. Thank you,” I finally responded, licking paste off my wrist and grimacing at the acidity.

Bobby smiled for the umpteenth time—and god I hope he never stopped—shaking his head as he took another drink, “Athena was right.”

“About what?” I asked, stirring so the ingredients wouldn’t burn.

“You,” he cocked his head at me. “You are a dork.”

“Rude.”

“Maybe,” he teased. “So, what brought you to that station?”

“Mm,” I hummed while opening the can of tomato sauce, “The tsunami actually. It did a number on my old station, I don’t even think it’s up and running yet, I think they’re still running out of another building. But, anyway, during some of the search and rescue, I broke my arm and I’d been in a cast for a while. They transferred me to this station to do more administrative work in the mean time, that’s how I met Athena.”

“Oh wow, I’m sorry.”

“It’s all part of the job,” I shrugged, pouring in the sauce and throwing the flame higher while I stirred. “It’s funny actually. Today, Athena convinced our Captain to let me out on patrol with her since my doctor cleared me for normal exercise with my arm and then that call happened,” I laughed.

“Luckily, you had a strapping firefighter to rescue you,” Bobby teased.

“Luckily, I had a strapping firefighter to rescue, I think you mean,” I teased back, flicking the burner to simmer. 

“Of course, how could I forget my knight in body armor.”

“Damn right,” I winked. “Now, come over here, Chef Nash, and let me know how I did.” I waved my hand in presentation to the simmering pot, “Shit, wait!” I stopped him with a hand between his shoulder and chest—wow, that was firm—to hastily pour some salt in my hand, pinch some, throw it in with a flourish, and toss the rest in the sink. I gave it another stir and stepped back.

Bobby stepped up, grabbed the spoon and dipped his pinky in it. Then, proceeded to push the spoon toward me to do the same while shoving his pinky in his mouth to suck the sauce off. I barely managed to dip my own finger in the spoon as I imagined his tongue lapping the sauce away. By the way his eyes swirled with playfulness, I knew that he knew exactly what he was doing. I could finally breathe again when he released his pinky, taking the opportunity to lick my finger and suck the end with a quick ‘pop’ and a moan thrown in for good measure. 

“It’s really good,” he praised.

“Thank y—”

“—But! We can do better.”

My mouth snapped shut with a pout as Bobby turned and opened my refrigerator with renewed purpose. He hummed to himself quietly before making a noise of success and coming back out with a sprig of leftover basil I had bought for a pesto I made a few days ago.

“You’re a genius!” I groaned, snagging the sprig from him and plucking the leaves off. 

I went to throw them haphazardly into the sauce when Bobby’s hand shot out and grabbed my wrist before I could let them go, “Woah, there.” He guided my hand toward himself, bringing me deliciously close to him. Close enough to breathe in whatever he had sprayed himself with before coming here, and definitely close enough to see the way his eyes dropped to my parted lips. “We can be a little more sophisticated than that,” he breathed, his voice suddenly huskier than it was a few seconds ago.

“Show me.”

“With pleasure,” he licked his bottom lip and plucked the leaves from my fingers. 

I watched as he stepped over to the cutting board where I had chopped the garlic, taking the time to stack the basil leaves on each other before rolling them into a cylinder. He fetched the knife that lay nearby and sliced the leaves with quick, light strokes, leaving green ribbons in his wake. Bobby lifted the cutting board and slid the ribbons into the sauce to simmer, giving me a smug smirk as he turned to face me after. I took the liberty of stirring the sauce while we waited for it to come together.

“It should be good now,” he nodded toward the pot, so I lifted the spoon and dipped my finger right after he did.

He sucked the sauce off his finger with a proud hum and a nod of approval, me not getting as distracted as I did the first time. I stuck my finger my mouth, my eyes immediately falling shut as I tasted the small difference the basil made. Letting my eyes flutter back open as I removed my finger, the air was sucked out of the room as I saw how dark Bobby’s eyes had gotten.

“I concede. You were right.”

Bobby didn’t respond, instead staring at my mouth.

“What’s wrong?”

Snapped out of his stare, Bobby blinked rapidly, “N—nothing, sorry. You have a little sauce…” He mimed the general area with his hand on his own face.

“Oh,” I furrowed my brows and wiped my face with my palm but didn’t feel any. “Did I get it?”

“No, it’s…” he mimed again, stepping closer.

“Whe—” my words were cut off as I felt warm lips on mine.

I sagged into his arms, a sigh escaping my throat as he pressed himself against me. In an attempt to not stretch my side so much, I kept my hands low and framing the sides of Bobby’s torso. It was nice—really nice—and I had to stop myself from deepening the kiss as I felt his hands clutch my upper arms. I let him pull away but kept him close since he didn’t step back.

“Bobby…”

“I’m sorry, that was inappro—”

“No…” I shook my head. I leaned forward again, just enough to feel his nose touch mine, “Can I…?” I felt him nod against me and dipped my head back in to touch my lips to his, letting my hand on my non-injured side come up to the back of his neck. This kiss was just as short as the last and just as nice, not wanting to overwhelm him so quickly.

“That was…” Bobby trailed off as we separated again.

“…Life changing?” I winked.

Bobby scoffed out a laugh, “I was going to say good, but you ruined it so…”

“Shut up,” I scowled playfully, tugging him back by the belt and kissing him sweetly once more. I furrowed my brows as I pulled back, tilting my head to the side in thought, “There wasn’t anything on my face, was there?” I squinted at him.

“Definitely not,” he let out a soft chuckle.

“Mm,” I hummed, “you’re forgiven.”

We pulled apart, somewhat reluctantly, and served two plates after making sure the stove was shut off. While the kisses were brief, I couldn’t stop licking my lips and remembering what Bobby's felt like on mine. Lingering glances and sly smirks permeated our conversation over dinner. I learned more about him than what Athena divulged to me and I’m sure the same went for him. Soon enough our plates were empty and we were idly chatting over the nearly clean plates. 

“Do you want more?” Bobby spoke up during a lull in the conversation.

“Yea, but I can—,” I stood to go get more, wincing as the skin pulled.

“Nonsense,” Bobby stood and grabbed my plate, balancing both on one forearm. With his free hand, I felt his fingers brush the nape of my neck before disappearing entirely. 

With full bellies, we sat on the couch and picked up the conversation again until it died off into a comfortable silence.

“You shower already?” Bobby muttered as he fished something out of his jean pocket.

“Mm,” I hummed and nodded. “Why? You trying to give me a sponge bath, Nurse Nash?”

“You wish,” he snorted. “Here.”

“Oh, bless,” I sighed, grabbing the burn cream from Bobby. “I’ll switch my gauze out before bed and put it on.”

“I'll do it for you. Bring it out here,” Bobby nodded in the general direction of my bathroom.

“You just want my shirt off again,” I teased.

“I will neither confirm nor deny,” Bobby murmured back with pink cheeks. “But I’m sure it’s easier than twisting.”

“You have a point…” I pursed my lips and headed off to grab my first aid kit from the bathroom. 

When I returned with the box, Bobby was fiddling with the cap of the tube absentmindedly. I set the box on the arm of the couch and reached my arm on my good side back to grab the back of my shirt collar. I yanked the material over my head and let it slide off the arm of my burned side and on to the floor. At some point as I took it off, Bobby stared at the skin revealed to him.

“Earth to Captain Nash,” I snickered at the dazed expression on the older man’s face, letting my hand slip to the back of his head to run over the soft hairs while guiding his head up to look at me.

“Sorry…” Bobby gulped, eyes tracing my form as he felt blindly for the first aid box. 

When he found it, he placed the box in his lap to distract himself, finding gloves, gauze, and tape with little effort. He snapped the gloves on with practiced ease and leaned forward as I stepped in between his legs and turned my side toward him. I winced as he pulled at one end of the tape, grabbing his shoulder with the hand on my bad side for some kind of support as he continued. When the cut and burn were open to the air, Bobby took a second to look it over to make sure it hadn’t gotten worse since the last time he saw it. Satisfied, Bobby twisted open the tube and applied more burn cream, making me shiver from the cold touch. 

I let my fingers curve around the nape of his neck, barely noticing Bobby pressing back against my hand in the slightest of ways. He quickly covered the wound with new gauze and tape and sat back a little to take the gloves off, which he deposited on the closed first aid kit with the other trash. He set the box and trash aside while I deliberated picking up my shirt or not.  

Deciding to leave it on the floor, I looked down at where Bobby sat waiting in quiet contemplation, “So, Captain…” I trailed off, stepping back into his space, which he gladly leaned in for. “…in your professional experience, does ‘kissing it better’ usually work?”

A smile lit up his face, followed by an incredulous snort, “No, never.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “Though, it might not hurt to try.” Bobby hooked a finger in the waistband of my sweats to pull me closer, glancing up at me once before pressing his lips to the undamaged skin next to the medical tape, “Better?”

“Mmm, no,” I sighed feigning dejection. “Maybe you’re administering it incorrectly.”

“Oh?”

“Mm,” I hummed, leaning forward until I had one knee pressed against the outside of his thigh on the couch cushion.

When he didn’t stop me, I closed the distance further and threw my other knee down so I was straddling his hips but not fulling sitting in his lap just yet. Garnering no complaints, if the way his hands squeezed my thighs were anything to go by, I draped my arms over his shoulders and gave him a playful smirk with my tongue running over my lower lip.

“Here?” He raised his eyebrows, and pressed a kiss to where his mouth height was at my sternum.

“Eh…” I teased, letting my fingers play with the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck.

Bobby hummed dramatically, letting his arm wind around my good side until his hand was splayed over my back. With a sharp tug from Bobby that I hadn’t been expecting, my ass was forced into his lap. A rather embarrassing whine slipped past my lips at the contact.

“Oh, here…?” Bobby murmured, tilting his head to press his lips where my neck met my shoulders.

“A—almost…” I sighed. 

Bobby tilted his head up higher to find a new spot, making me lick my lips in anticipation of feeling his once more. He surged up—finally—but my previous anticipation was wasted as my lips met his chin and a soft pressure pressed against my nose.

“Jerk,” I mumbled against his skin.

Bobby gasped softly, “You mean that didn’t work either?”

“You know it didn’t, Bo—” the words died in my throat as Bobby finally pressed his mouth where I wanted it. 

His lips meshed easily with mine, pressing just as softly as before but with more urgency just below the surface. I moaned suddenly as his lips parted and sucked my bottom lip between his, tongue laving over the skin and—oh—was he good at that. Taking his cue, I returned the urgency, parting my own lips and tentatively meeting his tongue; retreating with a quick flick to the roof of his mouth. Thick, strong fingers dug into my hips while I searched for any purchase on his head but his hair was far too short for me to do much. I settled for running a thumb across his jaw instead—oh that strong jaw—

Bobby suddenly parted, breathing just the slightest bit elevated with his normally thin lips now spit slick and veering on the side of swollen. His hands refused to move, keeping me close as he caught his breath.

“Better?” He panted, licking over his lips.

I was confused for a moment, so worked up that I had forgotten what he was referring to until his knowing smirk made me remember, “Oh! Oh, yes. Much better, Captain. You were definitely administering it wrong initially.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, “Good to know, I’ll take notes for my next patient.”

My eyes narrowed at his teasing, a small pout forming on my lips, “Next patient?”

“Well, unless you’re going to go getting hurt again…”

“A hot firefighter told me earlier this was going to take some time to heal…” I trailed off, pursing my lips to hold back a laugh while still running my hands over his hair soothingly. “Plus, I’ve been told I can be a danger to myself on the job—and—well, and off the job. I’m a bit of a klutz, okay?”

A brilliant smile spread over his face, eyes sparkling with humor, “Got it, so…you’d like me to continue being your care provider?”

“If you’re amenable, of course.”

“Would you be available for a consultation this Thursday at seven? No charge, of course, my treat.” 

“I can definitely do that and—” I brought my lips down for another kiss, “—I think we can agree to split the bill, I’m a big boy.”

“You…” Bobby trailed off, eyes looking down appreciatively and landing on my tented sweatpants, “…you sure are, Officer.”

I felt my face redden at the innuendo and the fact that I was very clearly tenting the sweatpants, “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. Because, believe me, if I wasn’t trapped in jeans right now…” Bobby trailed off with a chuckle. “And with that…I think it’s time for me to go before I lose whatever self control I might have right now.”

“Good idea. I suppose there’s a reason you’re a Captain and I’m most definitely not,” I laughed, pushing myself up and sliding off his lap until I was on my own two feet again. I just about giggled under my breath as Bobby stood, readjusting his jeans to a more comfortable position.

He followed me to the front door, stopping short when he saw the mess in my kitchen, “I should probably help you with that.”

“As nice as that would be…” I cut him off from the entryway, “…the longer you stay, the more both of us will be worked up and I kind of want to wait a couple more dates.”

“Good,” Bobby smiled, moving into my space, “me too.” He caged me in against the wall somewhat, not that I minded, “You should swing by the firehouse some time for food. If you—uh—if you give me your number I can let you know when I make something or need a sous-chef.”

“I’d like that,” I chewed on my lip while fishing my phone from my pocket and making a new contact. I preemptively typed his name out with “Bobby” being the beginning, followed by both a flame and a heart emoji.

Soft laughter bubbled up from Bobby’s throat as I handed the phone to him and he noticed the name.

“Let me know when you get home safe?” I murmured when he handed it back with the contact already saved. I shot him a quick text so he would have my number.

“Of course.”

Bobby pressed me firmly against the wall, stealing another kiss that I was all too willing to give. With a press of his hips against mine, my brain was short circuiting and I had to convince myself all over again that picking him up and carrying him to my bed was not what either of us wanted.

“Think about me later?” I winked as we pulled apart.

“I—uh—most likely will, “ Bobby murmured, his flush meeting his ears instantly. “I’ll see you Thursday, then? I’ll text you with the details,” he finally stepped back and grasped the door handle, twisting it as he spoke.

“You’ll see me Thursday,” I confirmed, following him half way out of the door as he opened it and stepped through.

Like a lovesick teenager, I pressed my back against the door after it closed, hoping to hear back from him like he promised. With a final glance at the mess in my kitchen, I sighed and decided to distract myself with cleaning until then.