#I just drove cross country

[underscorecareless]

Ngl Im like actually happy,

-for once in my life!

At least, since I can remember

Like actually happy

Not maybe the happiest Ive ever been

But, most definitely, unconditionally happy!

Its a rather strange feeling

And Im not sure what to do with it

I know it won't last forever

But that doesnt matter!

Because, if after I can remember

And I still have you.

That makes it all the more worth it,

and worthwhile, dont you think?

I wish words werent so confusing

And I could give you surreality

If only then youd understand,

This isnt just a poem

Its pointed verses, from one version of myself, to another

So it doesnt really matter if you comprehend

The fact is you and I coincided

And thats fantastic!

As is this moment is, if only in fragments.

I wish you could imagine my love for you in such passings'

I wish it werent a struggle to forgive me for my excitement and dumbassery

I just cannot begin to describe- thinking of tomorrow and not feeling such sadness

So I suppose if you cannot help me,

nor can I, more often than not,

we both will have to settle for this poor reminder-

and reread, as we hope to find-

What we have, hopefully, not lost 💕🖤

[altruistic-meme]

re: drive, do what you did with your sister when y'all went to Texas but alone?

when i drove from San Francisco to essentially Vancouver on my way to Alaska, it was literally like every other road trip except i had to call all the shots. which was stressful af since this wasnt a For Fun trip so i asked for a buddy on my way back down

oh!! you can bring like a plushie and take photos of it in places :3 that is your travel buddy

ah!! yeah, see, the biggest problem is that my sister did most of the planning for that trip skdhfskdg

it is,,, mmmmm,,, well part of it is that i'm going to be flying instead of driving! since it's a 30hr drive :') which is Fine and Okay except i have to go through 2 of the busiest US airports by myself with next-to-no experience :'))) i may or may not be very nervous about that lmao

but other than that it's also gonna be a longer trip! im going for about a week (probably, i know i'll be leaving saturday but idk what day i want to return home yet) whereas my trip to texas with my sister was 3 days, as was my trip with my other sister when we went to california! (<- that was also my only airport/plane experience thus far) so im gonna have more time there to actually Do Things as opposed to just... Day 1. Arriving, Day 2. Doing the Single Thing, and then Day 3. Leaving

that said though, a travel buddy actually sounds like a very good thing for me to bring!! ive done similar things on big family road trips where we would stop to remember to take photos, though those were more of Us than anything else, but i think it would be a nice way to remember to actually TAKE photos!! as well as helping me actually stay calm enough to figure things out :)

[mybrainproblems]

ohhhmygosh i've been meaning to ask you from an ask game from forever ago but can i know more about the midnight radio wip!!!!!!!!

i fucking love hedwig & the angry inch so much and i'm so bummed i was living on the other side of the country when it had a broadway revival. however! nothing to actually do with the fic really! i just took the song title bc the fic is vignettes of dean making the Mixtape late at night... hennyways here's an excerpt:

Tonight they're somewhere in Pennsylvania where the corn stretches from the crumbling edges of the parking lot into eternity and the blacktop of the road winds off to nowhere, heat shimmering above. With the sun set, there's a smudge of orange-brown on the horizon in the direction of town but otherwise the sky is a cloudy worn-velvet black. It's just past midnight and in spite of the ten hour drive Dean hunches over the radio, bowed down as though in prayer with the sound turned low and barely-audible over Sam's breathing. He can feel the ache in his spine from the long drive and the throb in his shoulder from last week's ghost and a crick is starting to form in his neck but –

oh yeah and he makes it oldddd school calling in requests to local stations and waiting for it to play to record it off the radio bc i'm a child of both the 90s and grassroots radio supporters

And you're shining

Like the brightest star

A transmission

On the midnight radio

[myheartxmyman]

[atlas-affogato]

I have a debilitating (and when I say debilitating I mean DEBILITATING) fear of tornadoes and when I move back across country I'm going to have to do it in spring 🙂 in tornado season. 🙂

[charliemwrites]

(Re)organized Crime, Part 8!

I was going to wait a little longer to post this (I say, looking guiltily at the queue) but I felt bad leaving it on a cliff hanger!

Content: Attempted Breaking and Entering, Fear for Safety, Hurt/Comfort

Four months ago, Simon drove you home for the first time.

It was a bad week all around. On Monday, Soap broke his arm. Gaz left with Farah and Alex on Tuesday for a business trip on the other side of the country. Wednesday brought about two dozen emails from Philip Graves’ wretched assistant, ugly pastel green borders framing each one. By Thursday, you almost weren’t surprised by the call about a lost shipment.

You were surprised when Price raised his voice at you, though.

“The fuck do you mean it’s missing?” he snarled.

You stood across from him with your tablet in hand, grossly unorganized logs open onscreen.

“I don’t think there are other ways I could mean it,” you answered lightly. “The crates left port and didn’t show up at the next one.”

You were scribbling on the screen, compiling the log into something more comprehensive. Purposefully not making eye contact because you could feel the angry heat radiating off him. It was making your hands tremble, but you’d be damned if you let it show.

“Well then where the fuck are they?” he demanded.

“If I knew that, sir, they wouldn’t be missing.”

“Are you taking the fucking piss?”

At that, you let out a heavy breath and looked up, expression flat. Price’s expression was dark, mouth tight. One hand gripped the arm of his office chair while the index finger of the other tap, tap, tapped his desk. You stared him down for a moment, reminding yourself to breathe with each uneven beat of your heart. Waited through a count of 20 before he huffed.

“Just find the damn thing,” he growled.

“Shall I use my crystal ball?”

You nearly jumped a mile when he barked your name in reprimand. And that was about the time you had enough.

“John.”

He froze. Across the room, so did Simon and Soap. You were so shocked by your own outburst that you came up a bit short as well. Didn’t even have a chance to gather more words when Price’s shoulders dropped. The anger melted away, replaced with apology and self-deprecation.

“Christ, luv, I’m sorry. Where have my manners gone?”

He ran a hand down his face, pinched the bridge of his nose where you were sure a headache was brewing.

“Thank you for the apology. I know this is important,” you soothed, softening your voice. “Give me 30 minutes and I’ll have a list of people you should yell at.”

He grimaced, “Take 45 for the trouble, darling.”

You used the extra fifteen minutes to brew him a fresh cup of tea and served it with a couple pain meds. When you’d delivered the analysis, he told you to head home early, that it would be a late night regardless and there was no need for you to do more than you already had. (It hadn’t helped the way that he’d ducked his head, still sheepish. You’d squeezed his wrist as you’d dropped off a list of damned names.)

With your usual drivers gone, Soap’s arm broken, and Price out to rip several people a new one, Simon drove you home.

He scowled in the vestibule while you fumbled for your keys. Then glared at the entryway as you trudged to the elevator. He grumbled as he accepted the invitation into your apartment, only to sneer (yes, you knew he was sneering even with the mask) at the doorknob and deadbolt.

“This place is a bloody deathtrap,” he finally declared, crossing his arms.

“It’s not that bad,” you replied, shaking your head.

“One solid kick and this door is coming down.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Then don’t kick it.”

“I’m sure a robber will be polite enough to knock,” he scoffed.

“The crime rate is good in this area,” you argued. Not great, but decent enough…

“Bloody hell. Did you even – are your fucking windows unlocked?”

You blinked. “We’re on the third floor, Simon.”

“I don’t give a rats arse—”

“And stop swearing at me.”

“—that you’re on the third floor. Lock your windows.”

You rolled your eyes but faltered when he narrowed his eyes, looming in the doorway like a fussy boogeyman. A clear indication that he did not plan to leave until you complied.

“You can’t be serious!” You were not whining.

“As the fu— as the damn plague.”

You snorted. “I think ‘damn’ is still swearing.”

He didn’t deign to respond to that, just arched his eyebrows. You mirror him right back, preparing to make a snippy comment about wasting company time.

“I’m sure Price would agree,” he said as you opened your mouth. You shut it with a snap.

Smug bastard.

You groaned but made a show of padding to all the windows and clicking the latches shut. Even when into the bedroom to secure those too. When you were done, he grunted in satisfaction and turned for the door.

“Lock this too.”

“I will, I will, I’m not dumb.”

You scrunched your nose at the skeptical grunt you received that time.

Before leaving, he pointed at you again, eyes narrowed. “Lock. Them. All.”

“They are!”

“From now on.”

“Yes, Simon.”

If you survive this episode of Dateline you’ve found yourself in, you owe him a scone and those nice cigarettes he pretends he doesn’t smoke.

“Open th’ fuckin’ door, Bunny!”

Your fingers twitch around the hilt of the knife. It’s not a big one, but it is serrated. That’s not going in or out without some serious damage. If not the fatal kind, at least the messy kind. Brandon’s not doing anything to you without leaving a crime scene investigator’s wet dream behind.

“Bunnyyyyyyyy!”

The banging starts again, nearly as fast as your heart. You could swear it gets louder every time. Maybe it’s just getting closer, layers of wood chipping away, closing the already too-small distance between you.

You glance desperately at your phone, but the screen remains damningly dark. Price promised he’d be here soon, but it feels like hours since you hung up to preserve what little battery life you had left. Your stomach churns as the pounding turns to thicker, harder thumps. Throwing his body into the door again, trying to force entry. Simon’s mutterings about kicking the door echo in your head.

You should have listened.

“Bun—fuck!”

You jolt as something slams into the door, nearly taking it (and the entry table you braced against it) down. There’s scuffling and scraping, muffled shouting, rapid footsteps— then silence. You hold your breath, every muscle in your body wound tight enough to snap.

“It’s alright now.”

You lurch from your protective crouch in the hallway, shove clumsily at the table. The mangled front door swings in crooked on one hinge, cracked and splintered from top to bottom.

And John is there on the other side.

You’re not sure if he reaches for you or if you throw yourself into his arms. All that matters is that he’s clutching you tight to his broad chest, tucking your head beneath his chin. Safe, protected. Your head spins as you lean into him, knowing that he’ll support you. His heart is beating hard against your cheek.

“John,” you breathe, now that fear isn’t squeezing your lungs in a vice.

“I’m here, luv,” he murmurs into your hair.

You’re shaking. Adrenaline seeps from your bones, takes all their heat and steel with it. You’re left cold and feeble in the aftermath, fingertips numb as they curl tight into his shirt. You don’t know where the knife is; you don’t care. You don’t need it now.

“H-He… He…” you start.

John shushes you, squeezes a bit tighter in reassurance. He knows; you don’t need to tell him, don’t have to remind yourself of what could have happened.

“Where…?” you try instead, but words are so hard. All the trembling must have knocked your voice loose, lost somewhere in the pit of your stomach.

“Soap and Gaz are taking care of it,” John says.

The last of the tension drains away. Your boys will scare Brandon off, maybe enough that he won’t ever bother you again. (The thought alone makes your eyes burn.) John is here now, and – when you peek out from around his bicep – so is Simon.

“You were right,” you mumble, “a-about the door.”

Simon winces. “I’m sorry that I was.”

Somehow, that’s what finally bursts the bubble of your restraint. You sob. It’s loud and sniffly and ugly. In the back of your mind, the part that can never just let you rest, you’re mortified to be doing this in front of your coworker. And on your boss’s nice shirt too. You have an image to maintain—

Except John’s broad hand is rubbing soothing circles into your lower back. He’s gathering you even closer, letting you shelter in his warmth and strength. Easing you through hiccups with quiet murmurs, telling you he’s proud and that you did so well to call him.

Through tears, you see Simon reach out. Scarred knuckles run gently down your wet cheek.

“We take care of our own, little miss.”

You warble out a broken little “Simoooon” that seems to break the solemn atmosphere, John sighing against your temple and Simon’s shoulders slumping in what might be fondness.

It’s not long before Soap and Gaz return, looking no worse for wear, thankfully. (Not that you think they can’t handle themselves – but Brandon was drunk and who knows if he had a weapon or not. Accidents happen.)

“Aw, lass,” Soap coos when he sees you. Calmer now, but still sniffling and wiping at stray tears. “He’s gone now. Won’ be botherin’ you again.”

You blink at the fresh blood on his knuckles and don’t ask. You believe him.

“Thank you.”

“Nothin’ to thank us for, doll. Should have taken care of ‘im earlier,” Gaz replies.

“Earlier?” John asks. He’s trying for your sake, you can tell, but you know him too well to miss the sharp note in his voice.

“Hadn’t had a chance to debrief, sir,” Gaz explains regretfully.

You untuck your face from John’s chest to be better heard, clearing your throat. “Still, for all four of you to come here…”

“What else would we do, sit with our thumbs up our bums?” Soap teases.

“That’ll do,” Simon snips, but you giggle anyway.

It doesn’t take much to convince you to leave your apartment – it takes a bit more to convince you to go to John’s. Unfortunately, you’re outnumbered, and while that normally wouldn’t be a problem, you’re not in a headspace to be stubborn, argumentative, or superficially brave.

All the boys have bachelor pads ill-suited to guests, especially on short notice. Maybe on some other night, under different circumstances, you would have insisted on a hotel.

But the idea of being alone in an unfamiliar place makes your skin crawl. You don’t want to be alone. You want to be near John.

“We take care of our own,” Simon said – so you let them.

Gaz, Soap, and Simon help to pack you an overnight bag, scattering to different corners of your apartment to collect items. In the meantime, you keep clinging to John because he keeps letting you. Exhaustion creeps at the edges of your mind, doubling gravity on your slumping shoulders.

“Did I interrupt something important?” you ask finally, voice hoarse.

“No, luv. Just a card game with some old friends. Soap was losing anyway.”

You sigh, relieved. At least you don’t have the loss of some important business deal weighing on your conscience.

“Poker again?”

“Kid can’t keep a straight face for the life of him.”

You hide your smile against his shoulder and appreciate the chuckle you feel more than hear in his chest.

Simon takes the lead out of the building while Gaz and Soap bring up the rear. You’re a bit self-conscious of any neighbors seeing you in this state, but thankfully none make an appearance. It’s too late in the evening for anyone to be coming in or leaving, and if there were any witnesses to Brandon’s bullshit, you never saw (or heard) them.

(“The hell is their problem, actin’ like they didnae hear that bawbag?” Soap grumbles. “Bystander effect,” you answer, shrugging. He grimaces in understanding, but still looks pissed.)

The car is warm when John bundles you into the back seat. Soap takes the wheel, Simon the passenger side. Gaz sits on your other side and leans his knee gently into yours.

“It’s over now, doll, you can rest. We won’t let anythin’ happen t’you,” he promises.

You smile wearily, lean in to drop a grateful kiss on his cheek.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you four,” you sigh as you snuggle into John’s side again.

“Don’t need to,” Simon answers gruffly, “we’re not goin’ anywhere.”

John hums in agreement, low and pleasant by your ear.

“You always take such good care of us,” he murmurs. Quiet, just for the two of you. “Let us return the favor for once, won’t you, darling?”

You want to resist. You should. You drop your head to his shoulder and sigh, “Okay.”

Between the gentle motion of the car and the pattering of a fresh rainstorm, you don’t stay awake for long. You nod off within four blocks of your apartment, peacefully unaware of the dazed and bloody body in the trunk.

First | Previous | TBC...

Masterlist

[kaijutegu]

So. Now that she's home and safe and gonna be ok, I can talk about this.

I almost lost Kaiju. Christmas Day. I was woken up by a phone call from Allison, who will be referred to a LOT in this story. Allison runs the pet store where I board Kaiju. She called to tell me that Kaiju had lost a LOT of blood. (As it turns out, half her blood volume. Humans die when we lose 40%, just so you know. She lost 50%.)

There were no visible injuries, and she had passed a bloody stool. Or rather, a blood clot with some poop in it. She continued to pass only blood when they put her in the bathtub to clean her up. If I'd taken her anywhere else, that... would have been it, probably.

But Allison is an actual miracle worker and knew an emergency vet who was open- on Christmas Day- and could see reptiles. As soon as she called me, she took her to the e vet, where they gave her fluids and oxygen and got her stable. They did some x rays and found... nothing.

In fact, the e vet actually complimented me on her bone density and how nice her toe joints look. Whatever this mysterious haemorrhage was, it was in the soft tissue.

The immediate thoughts were:

Impaction

Cancer invading an artery

Aneurism

Reproductive issues

However, the emergency vet couldn't figure it out, and my vet was out of the country. The e vet consulted with a lot of vets and it was decided she'd go into Chicago Exotics for care the next day- they were willing to see her on immediate notice. Allison drove her over and they did an ultrasound... and couldn't differentiate the mass they found.

So, exploratory surgery it was.

But... she didn't have enough blood for that. She wouldn't have survived... if Allison hadn't found blood for her. Tegu donors were found, the transfusion happened, and was completely successful.

And what the surgery found was completely unexpected. No cancer. No repro issues. No typical impaction.

Instead? Weird white things in her muscles and a partial impaction that seems to be related to a reduction in her ability to properly digest. There are two possible diagnoses at this point. One is visceral gout. This is very strange because in reptiles, articular gout basically always happens first, and her kidneys are fine.

The other option? Weird, potentially cross species parasite she picked up when she was in the Everglades. Something she's likely had all her life, something that was dormant until recently.

I'll know when the pathology report comes back in a week or so.

Anyways! She is doing very well. She is alert and interested in things. She has an incredible appetite, even though she can't have solid food yet. She's on three meds, including one I have to inject. At her three week recheck, we will add a fourth- either the correct anti-parasitic or a medication to improve kidney function, depending on the diagnosis. Currently she's in a hospital cage and she hates it- she can't have any substrate because of the stitches.

The vet says it should take about three months until she makes her full blood volume. Her pack cell count should be at 35%. It was at 7% on the 26th. But by the 28th, it was at 10%. She's gonna be ok. She's tough. My little girl is a fighter, always has been. You have to be scrappy to survive in the wild.

And throughout this entire experience, everybody has told me how lovely her personality is. Through the injections and cloacal probing and everything, she never bit or even tried to. The vet didn't think she even wanted to bite. Like it wasn't a question of wanting to bite and not being strong enough- it's just not something in her behavioural repertoire. She doesn't bite because she doesn't want to. Because even at her most scared, at her most painful, she's still Kaiju, the best tegu to ever live. Love is stored in the tegu, and it continues to be stored in the tegu. We have a long road ahead of us, but she's out of the woods and is going to be ok. We both are.

Also, consider this a MAJOR plug for Curious Creatures in Chicago. I'm never going to board my animals anywhere else.

[miley1442111]

hi! can you do something with aaron and like a younger next-door neighbour and they're kinda secretly and newly dating and something with Jack goes wrong and reader helps fix it so aaron is just so in love and asks if he can tell jack and it's just super fluffy and cute!

Anyway, thank you so much, i love your writing!!!!

i love this idea so much!

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

telling him- a.hotchner

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

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

a/n: i got nothin.

summary: jack can't go to school, so you swoop in and become aaron's hero, he asks two pretty important questions.

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

warnings: none

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

Aaron didn’t know what to do with himself. He’d left the BAU. Jack was 11. He had a pre-teen who he’d just moved across the country and changed his entire life. 

What the fuck were they doing in San Francisco?

Aaron was a lecturer now, on law in Stanford. Jack attended a new school, much to his dismay. 

And then there was you. The gorgeous woman who lived next door to them. You were a lecturer as well, nuclear physics but you were often mistaken for a student, considering you were only 25. You’d been very kind to him since he started work there, and even had had them over for dinner a couple of times. 

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

“I don’t wanna go!” Jack exclaimed, arms crossed. 

“Jack, I have work in 45 minutes, my students are taking the bar exam, and you know your babysitter is out of town, you have to go to school,” he sighed, feeling helpless. Doing this alone had been the hardest part. He had to leave the family he had, the entire team, and his life behind.

“But they’re mean!” he sobbed into his dad’s chest. “They make fun of me for not having a mom…” 

Aaron’s heart broke. He didn’t want to send his kid into school if he was being bullied, and he made a mental note to speak to his teachers. 

“Hey guys,” your kind voice filled the house from downstairs. Aaron had given you a key just a few weeks ago. “Ready to go?” 

Aaron looked at the time on his watch, it was exactly when you all carpooled to school, then work. 

“Up here!” Jack shouted down to you as he cried into his dad’s shoulder, ruining his suit. Aaron could hear your footsteps up the stairs and he braced himself for any judgy looks. 

Judgy looks which never came.

“Poor Jack,” you sighed, rubbing his head. “What’s going on?”

��The kids at school laugh at me because I don't have a mommy anymore,” he cried, getting up and giving you a hug. You sent Aaron an empathetic look and hugged Jack back. 

“That is awful Jack, how about this. You come to work with me and your dad, my lectures don’t start ‘till later so you can hang out with me and I know someone who works at your school, so if you tell me your teacher’s name I can get the lesson plan for today and we can work through it in my office, does that sound good?” 

Jack nodded his head furiously and hugged you harder, his tears subsiding. 

Aaron’s heart could’ve exploded. You were so kind. You two had only been on a few dates in recent weeks, you hadn’t told Jack yet, but you were so caring. 

He mouthed a ‘thank you’ in your direction and you shrugged. ‘It’s the least I can do’. 

Aaron ran into his room, pulling on a new suit jacket to replace the one soiled by Jack’s tears, grabbed his briefcase, and followed you out to the car. You’d called your friend at his school and gotten the information so Jack had his school books in his bag. You drove them to the Stanford campus, explained to your supervisor who told you it was alright, and departed for the day, Jack’s hand in yours. Aaron walked over to his building, and you stayed in yours, sending him updates throughout the day. You made the majority of your lectures for the day either study lectures, or just cancelled lectures so you could keep a close eye on Jack. You even allowed three of your most responsible students to teach Jack some maths. 

At the end of the day, Jack fell asleep on the couch in your office while you were busy cleaning up your lecture hall. 

“Hi honey,” Aaron smiled from the door. 

“Hi love,” you smiled back. “How was your day? Did anyone faint in the exam hall?”

He crossed over to you in three quick strides and pulled you into his arms, kissing you deeply. You were so kind, you’d taken care of Jack all day for him, you’d made him feel less alone in the most isolating time of his life, and you were his. Well, maybe, he hadn’t exactly asked yet. “No one fainted, but a few did vomit before coming in.”

“Poor them,” you sighed. “Jack was fine all day, no issues.”

“Have I told you how wonderful you are?” He smiled and you chuckled. 

“A few times, sure,” you teased. “But I don’t mind hearing it again.”

Aaron smiled and moved one of his hands to cup your cheek. “You’re wonderful.”

You smiled back at him, pecking his cheek. “Well, good thing we have a date on Friday.”

“I want to tell Jack,” He admitted. “About us.”

You nodded. “You’re sure? It’s only been a couple of weeks.”

“I’m sure. He loves you anyways, what’s the worst that can happen?” He asked, pressing kisses to your neck as he spoke. 

“Umm- He could hate both of us because he feels like we’re replacing your and Haley’s relationship, he could start to resent you if we break up, he could hate me, the list goes on-”

“Don’t let it,” he smiled. “I have spent my whole life making calculated and deliberate decisions, even if I knew those choices wouldn’t make me happy. I want to be happy now, with you and Jack,” he admitted. In recent months you’d taught him the value of being slightly selfish, despite his altruistic tendencies. 

“Alright, whatever you say love,” you smiled and kissed him again, then went back to your desk to gather your things. 

“I also want to ask you something,” he stated and when you turned around you saw a bouquet of your favourite flowers in his hands. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

You chuckled softly and smiled, the sweetness of the moment warming your heart. “Yes, Aaron, I will be your girlfriend.”

He grinned when you accepted and his hands wrapped around your waist as he pressed your lips against his  in celebration. 

He was happy, truly happy. For the first time in a long time. 

And it was all thanks to you.

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

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

[vigilante-3073]

Fast Car

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: The three times that Sam watched Dean and Y/N sing along to one of their favorite country songs and the one time he didn't.

TW: Pre-established relationship, fluff, dancing, kissing, marriage and children.

Sam sat at a small table in the corner of the crowded country bar as he looked through news stories on his laptop. They had just finished a case in Oklahoma and Sam had the responsibility looking for their next hunt.

He looked up from his screen, eyes quickly finding his brother across the bar. Dean's hands were resting on his girlfriend's hips, holding her close as they sang along to Fast Car by Tracy Chapman.

"You got a fast car

I got a plan to get us out of here

I been working at the convenience store

Managed to save just a little bit of money

Won't have to drive too far

Just 'cross the border and into the city

You and I can both get jobs

And finally see what it means to be living."

Dean pulled away slightly, taking her hand and spinning her around with a wide smile. She laughed, leaning into him as he pulled her back in. Y/N had always loved country music and she had been slowly expanding Dean's musical inventory to include her favorite songs.

Fast Car had quickly become their song and they couldn't go on a road trip without playing it at least once. Sam couldn't bring himself to be annoyed because of how happy it made his brother.

How happy Y/N made his brother.

They were perfect together and there would always be a part of Sam that hoped to find a love like that again after he had lost Jess.

Dean's hands slid from her waist into the back pocket of her jeans as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

There was something almost sad about the song, it was something that he and Dean would probably never be able to experience.

A simple life.

Settling down and starting a family.

And Dean deserved it more than anyone in the world.

...

The impala sped down the highway, the music was blasting and the windows were rolled down. Sam sat in the backseat, staring out at the vast field that ran alongside the highway.

The summer air was hot and the roads were empty as they drove back to the bunker after a successful hunt.

Y/N was in the front seat, body turned towards Dean as they sung along to the song.

"So I remember we were driving, driving in your car

Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk

City lights lay out before us

And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder

And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged

I-I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone."

Dean looked over at her, watching the wind blow her hair around as he drove. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her over to his side before his eyes returned the road ahead of them.

Sam watched them for a moment, smiling to himself as Dean drummed his hand against the steering wheel to the beat of the music.

Y/N turned her head, pressing a kiss to Dean's cheek. He smiled, thumb stroking across the material of her t-shirt fondly.

She rested her head down on his shoulder, hand resting on his knee as she listened to him sing along to the music.

...

Sam made his way down the hallway towards the kitchen after his run, glancing at his watch with a frown as he paused in the doorway.

Music was blaring from Y/N's speaker as her and Dean moved around the kitchen making breakfast. Y/N chopped up strawberries on a cutting board while Dean flipped a pancake in a pan with bacon crackling away on another burner.

Dean suddenly turned towards his girlfriend, using the spatula as a microphone as he sung to her.

"You got a fast car

We go cruising to entertain ourselves

You still ain't got a job

And I work in a market as a checkout girl

I know things will get better

You'll find work and I'll get promoted

We'll move out of the shelter

Buy a bigger house and live in the suburbs."

Y/N smiled widely, abandoning the knife on the cutting board before singing the next line into the spatula. Dean reached out and grabbed her hand, spinning her around before pulling her back against his chest.

Y/N laughed, hand resting on his forearm as they swayed together. Dean spun her back around before releasing her with a wink.

He turned back to the stove, flipping the pancake before sliding over to his girlfriend and pressing a kiss to the back of her head. His hands found her hips before pulling her away from her cutting board and into his arms. Dean spun her around in his hold, taking her hand and wrapping his other arm around her waist before guiding them in a few practiced steps. He held her close to himself, singing along loudly before pulling away and spinning her around.

Dean pulled her back against his chest, pressing a kiss to her temple before sweeping her back into their dance.

They glided around the room, he spun her a few more times before wrapping both of his arms around her waist and pressing his lips to her's in a gentle kiss.

Y/N's fingers tangled in his hair before they reluctantly broke apart and returned to their tasks.

Their relationship almost seemed effortless to Sam.

It was almost like everything else faded away when they were together. It was the purest form of love that anyone could hope to find in this messed up world.

...

Dean turned off the television, tossing the remote aside with a sigh, "Nothin' on, buddy," He muttered, looking down at the Terrier mix who blinked up at him from the floor. Dean grabbed his phone from the coffee table, clicking the power button and feeling relieved when he didn't see any notifications on his screen.

Sam was supposed to come over for dinner to see some of the renovations that Dean had done on the new house. Dean still couldn't believe how many changes had occurred in the last few years.

Dean had made the decision to leave hunting behind and finally made a life for himself. Sam was finishing up a quick case a few states over before going into his own version of hunting retirement. They had both given so much of their lives to hunting and now it was time to live for themselves.

Dean looked over at the bookshelf, his eyes finding the stereo sitting between the books. Dean stood up, making his way over and turning on the power. He flipped through the channels, quickly turning up the volume when he heard the familiar tune start.

"No way," He muttered.

"So I remember when we were driving, driving in your car

Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk

City lights lay out before us

And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder

And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged

I-I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

You got a fast car

Is it fast enough so you can fly away?

You gotta make a decision

Leave tonight or live and die this way."

He straightened up with a smile, "Baby, c'mere for a minute," Dean called. Y/N made her way into the living room of their home with their daughter held against her side.

"Is that-?" "Yeah... I thought that maybe my two favorite girls would wanna dance," He said.

"Of course," Y/N smiled.

Dean carefully took their daughter from her arms, cradling her in the crook of his arm before holding out his hand.

Y/N rested her hand in his, gold wedding band catching the soft afternoon sunlight pouring in through the window.

She wrapped her arm around him, smiling down at their daughter as he guided them around the living room. Dean carefully spun his wife before drawing her back in, singing down to their daughter as they swayed together.

This was the life he had always wanted and now he had it.

His beautiful wife, his baby girl, his brother, a house and the dog.

Dean never would have thought this kind of life would be possible for him and now he couldn't dream of living any other way.

He had everything he could possibly want and he was finally happy.

[yandere-daydreams]

Hear me out hear me out on this concept idea

Southern gothic small town pastor Geto AU

tw - non/con, manipulation, unbalanced power dynamics, financial abuse via organized religion, and implied kidnapping.

wait that would actually be so hot of him actually.

i don't know what is about geto but he just,,, radiates scummy religious figure energy to such an atrocious degree. like, couldn't you just imagine him moving from small town to small town, posing as a country-values pastor to scam his ever-growing congregation out of their life's savings and retirement funds before smuggling himself away and moving on to fresher meat? if he works quickly, the whole operation takes a little less than six months, and he's got such a charming smile and such a soothing voice - no one's ever so much as thought twice about trusting him, not really, not unless they wanted to be the next town outcast.

well, no one aside from you, of course.

it's cute - just how suspicious you are of the man who has your chronically truant parents sitting in the front row of his chapel twenty minutes early. you'll tell anyone who's got the time to listen that you don't like his hollow expressions, that you don't find his sermon-topics appropriate, that you don't trust how quickly he showed up after your last pastor suddenly went missing. no one listens to you, of course. you burnt that bridge when you decided to move away to some big, new-age city and attend some expensive, self-aggrandizing university. like him, you'll only be in town for a few months, just until the start of your next semester, but unlike him, you actually care about what's going to happen to your neighbors after you leave. the fact that you stopped going to church entirely after he took over doesn't help. in a town like this, you might as well be signing the warrant for your own social exile.

you make an effort to keep your distance, but he just can't seem to pay you the same courtesy. in a town like yours, it's can be hard not to run into familiar faces, especially when he seems to stop in at the general store where you picked up a summer job every other day, when he mentions to your mother that they could really use an extra pair of hands at the church's monthly bake sale or tells your father that he might want to bring a helper the next time he comes to fix up a few things around the sanctuary. you're always so flustered around him, always so brooding - like you think someone's going to believe you just because you cross your arms and pout. he savors any chance he gets to touch you - whether it's his hand ghosting over the small of your back as he moves past you in a narrow hall or your body pressing into his after he forgoes your offered handshake in favor of a nice, tight, neighborly hug.

and, when you come to him, he thinks he might finally know why people try so hard to get into heaven. it goes without saying that you're irate, shouting at him from the steps of his parsonage as you demand he return the tens of thousands of dollars that your mother so generously donated early that day, but it's not hard to convince you to come inside, to get a glass of wine into your hand under the pretense that, if you really drove all this way just to yell at him, it's the least you deserve. things devolve from there - your glass looks a little empty, why doesn't he top you off while you tell him what a terrible person he is? you've already finished that bottle, but he's got a gorgeous vintage red, and you're just starting to slur - he's sure it'll be fine. and, oh, well, you're far too drunk to drive yourself home, but don't worry, his bed's big enough to share. and oh, look at that, don't you feel lucky to wake up naked and sore in an unfamiliar bed, the handsome young pastor's cock still buried inside of you? he's sure your parents will be elated when you two tell them about your new engagement (because, of course, you can't just sleep with your local pastor and expect to come out of it without a ring on your finger, can you?), even if you seem a little upset right now.

it's only as he watches you sob into his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist and his cum still dripping out of you, that he decides he might be able to stay in this particular small town for a few more months. just long enough to find a way to take you with him, when he leaves.

[fanficlibrary82]

Pseudo Parents

Word Count: 1,571

Warnings: Other than the fact that I wrote this in 3 hours, none

AN: I've never written for the X-Men before, so feedback is more than welcome!!!

Professor Xavier had called you and Logan in for a special trip to recruit a new young mutant he had located in the middle of Nebraska. “After observing the young man's home life, I think it's best if you two travel to him specifically. I've been mentally nudging his parents towards a “boarding school” but I need a friendly face to make that final push.” He smiled kindly at the both of you, and even though Logan had rolled his eyes with a soft huff, you could've sworn there was the hint of a smile in return.  

The first suggestion was to fly, since it was halfway across the country, but you saw the way Logan tensed and jumped in. 

“What if we drove instead, professor? It'd take us a bit longer longer, but it would give you more time to relax the parents and warm the boy to the idea of leaving home.”

Logan had silently nudged your knee in thanks. You gently bumped his shoulder with yours, placed your hand on his wrist, and ran your thumb across his skin. 

Professor X watched you both with a soft look in his eyes. Your relationship wasn't a secret, and you were both so fond of each other that Charles knew he had to select you two in particular. His family will feel better knowing that these two can act as pseudo parents in their stead, if only for the ride here.

“Very well, a drive it is. I'll arrange a car and find a few places along the way for you to rest. You're to leave at first light tomorrow morning.” 

You thanked the professor and stood. Logan turned his wrist to give your hand a squeeze as you left the office.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“Always,” you replied, squeezing his hand back. 

X

The drive had been perfectly fine so far; decent weather, you had been put in charge of music while riding shotgun, and Logan had even been making jokes. But once you crossed over into Iowa, night had fallen and had brought a wicked storm with it. While you hadn't managed to convince him to let you drive so far, (“You know I'm no good talkin’ to people. I drive, you convince.”) seeing the turn off for a local motel, you wouldn't take no for an answer. 

“You've been driving for 15 hours, Logan.”

“And? Just means we've only got…” he glanced at the GPS. “6 left. We can sleep when we get there and pick up the kid in the morning.”

You sighed, ready to fire a response back, but the bolt of lightning streaking across the sky made your eyes widen.

“Come on, Lo, this weather is-”

A loud crack of thunder cut you off, making you jump and reach for his hand. 

He took it, deftly bringing your knuckles to his lips before he changed lanes. 

“Shittier than expected?” He raised an eyebrow and glanced your way. He knew a bad storm is what made you realize your powers. Knew the memories it brought back. 

He pulled into the parking lot and gave your hand a squeeze. “You comin’ in or wanna wait here?” Before you could answer, another crack of thunder made you jump and squeeze his hand tighter.

“Group effort it is,” he nodded, giving the back of your hand one last kiss before letting go and grabbing your bags out of the back.

You ran to the lobby, Logan not far behind, managing to only get soaked instead of drenched. The clerk looked up from behind the desk, clearly not expecting anyone. 

“Oh, hi, uh…can I help you?” He flipped his phone face down on the counter and gave an honestly half decent attempt at looking interested. 

“Yeah, we just need a room for the night,” Logan replied, keeping a tight grip on your hand. He was cautious in the best of circumstances, so a shitty motel in the middle of nowhere was not making him feel great. 

The kid behind the counter grabbed some paperwork and a pen, sliding them across the desk. “Just need an ID and card for the room.”

You noticed the way he kept glancing at you, and it made your stomach churn. So, right as Logan reached across the desk, you concentrated, just how Charles had taught you, and made an illusory pair of wedding bands adorn your fingers. Judging by the way his eyes flicked from Logan's hand to yours, he got the message, but you needed no room for doubt.

“What brings you two to Wilton, Mr. Howlett?” 

“Just passin’ through.”

“Oh, baby, don’t make it sound so awful!” You pressed yourself closer to Logan's side and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “He promised to take me on a cross country road trip for our honeymoon. Took us a few months, but we're finally doing it!”

Logan looked down at you curiously before noticing the band around your finger and his. He smiled, leaning in to kiss your temple. “I wouldn't've heard the end of it if I didn't, baby.”

The clerk nodded and hummed, clearly losing interest as he turned to make your room key.

 Logan huffed out a low laugh and mouthed Honeymoon? You shrugged. First thing I could think of. 

“Well, uh…congrats. Have a safe rest of your trip.” The clerk handed Logan the cards and gave you a tight lipped nod before returning to his phone. You gave him a smile in thanks and Logan guided you to your room. 

“So we're married, huh? When'd that happen?” He grinned, unlocking the door. 

“I wanted a summer wedding but you insisted on winter, so we compromised with October.”

He shook his head, stepping back so you could get out of the rain. He locked the door and you leaned against it, knowing he'd sweep the small room for bedbugs and burglars alike before letting you so much as sit on the bed.

“Who all was there?” Logan called as he poked around the bathroom.

“Only our friends; Ororo, Scott, Jean, Hank, Kurt. The professor officiated. Did you know he was licensed in New York?”

Clicking the bathroom light off with a satisfied nod he leaned against the opposite wall and smirked at you. “I didn't, but I'm sure it was quite the ceremony if you planned it.” 

You smile fondly as you cross the room to wrap your arms around his neck. His hands fell to your waist as you laid your head on his chest.

“What was our first dance song?” His voice rumbled against your ear as he spoke softly.

“The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face,” you replied and he hummed in approval.

“Roberta Flack?”

“Is there any other version?” You tease and tilt up to look at him. 

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Not one I care to hear,” he smiled before he leaned down to kiss you. 

You threaded your fingers through the curls at the base of his neck, smiling against his lips. His grip on you tightened as his lips made their way across your chin and down your neck.

“We showerin’ tonight or in the mornin’?” He muttered.

You didn't miss the we in his sentence, and pressed against his chest with a raised eyebrow. “You tryin’ to get me naked, Howlett?”

He snorted and pulled back to rest his forehead against yours. “I mean, if we're married, I feel like that's part of my job.”

You laughed and gave him another quick kiss before pulling him towards the bathroom. 

X

After you had showered and changed, you crawled under the blankets and Logan was quick to follow. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you against him. You tucked your face into the crook of his neck and slid an arm across his chest. Your body slotted against his side and he tangled his legs with yours. His fingers found their way under your night shirt and gently caressed your skin, and you both sighed as you settled in for the night, feeling safe and warm in each other's arms.

Despite only living a few rooms apart at the school, it was rare you slept in the same bed. You both loved your students (even if Logan would never admit it out loud), but they tended to get a bit out of hand when their teachers got into relationships. You had both agreed early on that it was easier to just be coworkers while school was in session. Which made a night like tonight that much more special. With the rise and fall of his chest and his arm tight across your waist, you were lulled to sleep.

Once your breathing evened out, Logan turned to look at you. Your face fully relaxed, eyelashes fanned across your cheeks, he felt his chest tighten. A long time ago he gave up on the idea of love. For a man like him, real love was near impossible, the thought of them leaving or dying before he had visibly aged sabotaged any real chance he thought there could be.

But here, with the rain finally slowing and the moonlight shining across your face, he knew there wasn't any other word for what you had. He leaned down and pressed his lips against your hairline. 

“I love you, baby” he muttered against your skin. More than you'll ever know. 

[lipringlrh]

'tis the damn season | OP81

summary: cold weather and old towns reunite an old love. based on ‘tis the damn season by taylor swift.

pairing: oscar piastri x ex!reader

an: start of my winter/chirstmas series and evermore series!! i'm writing more, especically for oscar. also, i apologise for my absence, im in the middle of exams atm :/

word count: 2.1k

warnings: none!

feedback appreciated!!!

…

It had been a long time coming, seeing Oscar again. You were surprised you hadn’t run into him in other places around the country, during his breaks between races, but you didn’t know enough about him anymore to properly comment.

He hadn't been back in a while, you noticed from his instagram. You didn't like knowing what he was up to but you couldn't help but check everytime he showed up on your feed.

The first time you saw him was in a coffee shop, the one you use to frequent when you were together. You didn’t talk; you didn’t even meet eye to eye. You didn’t know if he saw you, you presumed he did but just had no interest in talking to you again. You walked right past him, surely he would’ve seen you, you thought.

He did see you but only to watch you leave. He was too focused on his phone to notice any of his surroundings whilst inside, it was only when you almost brushed past him that he felt an urge to look up. Possibly due to your familiar perfume or the familiar jacket you always wore, he didn’t consciously know, but the urge compelled him like no other. He watched you walk away, drink in hand, fighting the drive to run after you. He knew you’d seen him, he could feel it, but you didn’t say anything, using that as an excuse to hold back.

The second time you saw him was a shock too. You were parked in the rundown carpark behind the old church on the way to the early Sunday market. It was a tradition that you always dragged Oscar along to, every time parking in the same spot, the one in the top left-hand corner where the car lines seemed the least jagged, instead of the actual market's carpark, which was always too packed for your liking.

Oscar had been running around the town like a madman, visiting every place you two had ever been together. He didn’t understand it but some force inside him wanted to see you again. He didn’t know why or for what but deep down he knew he had to see you.

He pulled into the carpark, seeing very few cars parked there. He drove towards the top left but his heart dropped seeing a black toyota celica in your spot. It never crossed his mind it could’ve been you.

He bit his lip, instead parking along the same row but closer to the other side. He noticed someone in the car using the mirror in the sun visor before climbing out. He immediately recognised the jacket. How couldn’t he? Especially after he was the one who bought it for you all that time ago.

He couldn’t move. He felt frozen. His heart swelled with adoration yet he didn’t understand why. He watched you walk away again, slowly as though not the slip on the thin sheet of ice on the ground. He watched as you turned around the corner towards the market, desperate to follow but realising he was probably too late and would lose you in the crowds of people.

Instead he sat there for an amount of time he couldn’t count. He watched more cars pull in and park up and others drive away, critiquing each for just using it as a carpark and not loving it as he did. He felt stupid for thinking it but he couldn’t help it.

He almost missed you walking back towards your car as he was too focused on watching an old bmw fail to park well. He would’ve missed you completely if it wasn’t for your slight slip on the side of your pavement. You managed to catch yourself easily before brushing yourself off, peering around and hoping no one saw.

He jumped out of his car as fast as light, almost slipping himself in the process. He forgot to lock his car and just bolted toward you. As he got closer he began screaming your name whilst waving his arms, making sure you couldn’t miss him.

You recognised his voice instantly, freezing for a moment, your hand about to open your car door, before turning around to face him.

You waved back, trying not to laugh to yourself at his repeated slips on the ice due to his speed trying to reach you.

He was eventually in front of you, taking you all properly for the first time in what felt like years. He noticed you bought a new scarf: a burgundy-red one with tassels at the end. It looked warm and he couldn’t help but feel glad you were keeping cozy.

“Hi,” he spoke first, awkward as ever. His eyes were flicking everywhere but your own, barely keeping locked on anything for more than a split second.

You laughed lightly at his awkward, flustered state, glad he was the same as before, “hi, Oscar.”

His whole face brightened at hearing his name fall from your lips. He went red, smiling brighter than the sun. His eyes met yours and he just smiled, not saying anything in return.

“Have you been to the market yet? It’s gotten good again, especially now it’s getting colder,” you smiled, trying to make gentle conversation. You missed Oscar, you really did, but you thought any long conversation with him would throw you back into the deep end of feelings and you didn’t know if you could handle that.

“I was just about to, I haven’t been in a while,” he paused, looking like he wanted to say more so you kept quiet, waiting for him to continue, “do you- do you want to show me around?”

“Well, it’s pretty much the same layout as before, same people too-“

“I want you to show me around.” He stated, firmer but still soft, hoping you’d take the hint.

You nodded and began leading him towards the market again, reminiscing on old times; your time at the markets before, old snow days, and your relationship. It didn’t once feel wrong with him, even when he got awkward, the space was never awkward, it felt comforting and right.

You’d made your way around a lot of the stores, Oscar buying a few handmade cards he saw whilst you bought a mini trinket you debated buying your first time around.

You eventually reached the stall where you bought the scarf and he couldn’t help but notice the matching hat. It was the same colour with a matching pompom.

He picked up, walking closer to you so he could place it over your head, ignoring your complaints. He tugged it down, realised he pulled it too far down your forehead and pushed it back, messing up your hair until little bits were sticking out the front of the hat. He lifted the front of the hat, moving your hair around, placing it in the perfect position.

It was all out of your control but his closeness to you and ways he could fluster you with barely a touch still amazed you.

“Gorgeous,” he mumbled, his eyes trained on you, locking with yours rather than the hat.

He turned back towards the stall, ignoring your obvious flushed state, and finding the person selling all the hand-knitted woollens.

She was on older lady, possibly in her 60s, possibly in her 70s. She looked sweet, her demeanour radiating happiness.

“We’ll take it,” he told her, reaching for his wallet. You immediately tried to stop him, taking out your own wallet. It was a gorgeous hat, you regretted not buying it earlier, but you felt guilty for making him pay when you’ve only just seen each other again.

“Ignore her,” he grinned at the lady, handing her a note and a few coins.

She only smiled back, handing him a pre-handwritten receipt, “you two are the cutest couple around here. Don’t let my son and his girlfriend hear though.”

Oscar just smiled even more, laughing slightly before thanking her and putting his wallet back in his pocket. You were slightly shocked but just let it happen, smiling at the lady as you both walked away.

You carried on around the market, in your matching scarf and hat, completely ignoring whatever just happened. Oscar tried to buy you anything your eyes seemed to land on for more than a few seconds but you refused each time, feeling guilty.

Oscar noticed your growing irritation, he began to slow down his offers and take it easier with you, hoping he wasn't the cause.

You finished around the rest of the stalls rather quickly as Oscar didn’t have much of an interest in anything that wasn’t you. You began walking back to your cars, you quieter than before, and Oscar just locked in staring at you.

You looked down for most of the walk, deciding to not try and talk until your entering the car park again.

“Thank you, Oscar, but you didn’t need to buy me the hat. Let me pay you back please,” you asked, reaching for your purse.

He just shook his head, dismissing it as absurdity, “don’t be silly.”

“Oscar-"

“No, I told you I’d buy you anything you want, remember?” he told you with full certainty. You were reaching your car now and you both hated it, not wanting to leave each other.

You sighed, “that was when we were together, Osc, not anymore.”

He ignored every word you said, focusing on the old nickname that came out of your mouth. It made his heart beat faster and his palms get sweaty but he didn’t care, he loved it.

“Let’s be together again then,” he spoke, as it was the easiest thing he’d ever suggested. As much as you’d love it, all you could think about was the endless amount of things that could go wrong. You couldn’t handle another heartbreak, especially not an Oscar induced heartbreak. You’d never struggled particularly hardly to get over anything until it came to him. When you broke up, it shattered you both and you didn’t think you could handle that again.

“But- but what if-”

“What ifs are stupid. I know it didn’t work before but it can work again. I promise you everything that I will make this work, “ he spoke sincerely, finally reaching your car once again.

He watched your face for any signs he could recognise. He could feel your thoughts racing like second hand nature but he could see the feeling of love on your face, knowing you want this just as much as he does, it was just your own thoughts blocking you.

“I’ll show it to you, I'll prove it to you how much I want this and how I won’t give you up a second time. Give me until next weekend and I’ll show you how much I’m willing to give you my all in this,” he promised knowing he’d never mean anything this much.

Everything he felt was flowing back to him and he couldn’t imagine a life without you in it again. He knew he had been missing something and deep down he always knew it was you.

You were leant on your car, letting it hold up your weight. You were fiddling with your fingers, messing with anything to avoid looking at him. You wanted to think rationally but you knew looking up at him would mean it would all be over. You knew you loved him but you couldn’t go though another heartbreak again.

He grabbed your hands and felt immediate warmth spread all throughout him, blocking out the freezing air around him.

“Okay,” you whispered, the smile that was ghosting your face becoming full formed and beaming. You finally looked up at him and noticed he looked like he was on the verge of tears.

He pulled you in for a hug, holding you tighter than ever before. He head rested against yours and he wanted to keep it like that forever.

“Thank you,” he whispered, grateful for the opportunity and unable to express his pure admiration for you.

“There’s no need to thank me, Osc, I’d run back to you a thousands times if I could,” you replied in full honestly, your whole body full of love to give him.

“So does that mean you’ll spend the day with me? I need to get groceries and I need someone to guide me around the shop aisles.”

You laughed against him, squeezing him that little bit tighter, never wanting to let him go again.

He smiles against you, happy to hold you again, “you think I’m joking, I’m absolutely serious.”

…

feedback appreciated !!

[ladykailitha]

Of Butterflies and Backstrokes Part 1

Welcome to my other AU that I couldn't wait until September to show you all. I know, I know the closing ceremonies for the Olympics are tomorrow, which is another reason to get this in before all the fanfare dies.

Summary: When a freak accident at his third Olympics left him with migraines and a fear of deep water, Steve thought his Olympic dreams were dead—until delinquent Eddie Munson arrived at his pool to do community service. Steve witnesses Eddie's swimming talent and realizes his dreams don't have to be over. Now it's a race to get Eddie Olympic ready in two years. Steve's going for gold, but Eddie might have other interests in mind.

~I know I forgot to post the results of the poll regarding which time period to set this story in. But I got the notification on my phone while I was busy and by the time I got to my laptop, I forgot. And kept forgetting.

Most people wanted Eddie's Olympics to be in 2004 but after talking to people in the tags and comments, I decided on 2012 instead. Sorry about that.

~

Steve Harrington grew up with parents who pushed him hard in everything he did. He had to be the best at playing the piano, basketball, baseball, singing, formal dancing, and swimming. But of all those things Steve excelled at swimming the best. Because once he put his cap on over his ears, the roar of the crowd dimmed and then vanished the second he hit the water.

Those other things? Suddenly no longer mattered because Steve wasn’t just good at swimming, he was brilliant. From when he first started competing when he was eleven there was always talk about the Olympics. Always the Olympics.

So it was something he was being pushed toward. World Championships and other competitions were just trials for the Olympics as far his father was concerned.

His father. Clint Harrington, who had never worked hard for anything in his life, who had his job handed to him by his dad, who was a raging, frat boy narcissist who drank his weight in alcohol before he was even twenty-one. Who collected guns but never shot one in his life and didn’t even know how to load one. The man who decided that because his life was soft, his son’s could not be.

When he got fifth at the Olympics at age fourteen everyone was amazed and even a little shocked. Clint Harrington was disappointed. Even though everyone knew that boys his age were still growing and changing and once he had settled into his body, he would do more than just medal, he would take home gold.

Which is exactly what happened his second Olympics. He was eighteen and just coming into his own. He walked away with three silver medals, four gold, and a bronze. The bronze is what upset Clint Harrington the most.

How dare he only take third! The audacity!

Where was his mother in all this? Maureen Harrington was bragging at all her country clubs, charity dos that her son was an Olympic gold medalist. Never mind her friends had never met him. That they saw more of him on their TV then she had since he turned ten. That was when she decided that he was big enough to handle himself and promptly stopped interacting him.

Clint hadn’t even noticed, he was so focused on making sure Steve won at any cost. He hired the best coaches, built a swimming pool in the backyard, drove him to all his meets, all of it; just so Steve could be the best at any cost.

There was only one line Clint didn’t cross, which honestly surprised everyone who knew him. He didn’t suggest Steve dope up. Steve wasn’t sure if it was because he was a coward and was afraid Steve would get caught, or if he just merely thought Steve could be pushed into perfection without them.

But he was always grateful that it was the one line Clint Harrington refused to cross.

And then it happened. It was 2008 Olympic Games in Beijing, China. Steve was poised to break several records and win a staggering amount of medals. He was in eight events and everyone was expecting him to medal in every one of them.

But the only things he broke that year, was his head, his hopes, his dreams, and his spirit. For in the very first event the jump board he was on, slipped out from under him as jumped. His head hit the side of the pool and he sunk like a stone to the bottom.

He didn’t remember much, the roar of the crowd turned to screams, the sicking crunch as his head hit the side and then the rush of water all around him as he sunk, weightless to eternity.

When he woke up, all Steve was left with was migraines and a fear of large bodies of water.

His dad walked away that day and he never saw him again.

~

Two Years Later

Eddie Munson was in deep trouble and he knew it. He had been arrested with enough weed on him to know it wasn’t for personal use. Possession with intent to sell. Thank god it happened two weeks before his eighteenth birthday otherwise he’d be facing real jail time and not.. community service?

Wait, what?

He was expecting probation at the very least. But nope. He was sentenced to five hundred hours of community service as it was his first offense, he had a troubled childhood, and apparently the God damned Chief of Police on his side. Who had said that he was a good kid who protected the weak and participated in afterschool programs to help teach them math, creative writing, cooperative skills, troubleshooting, and time management.

Eddie’s lawyer told him before Hopper was to testify at his sentencing hearing that he could not laugh, could not chuckle, could not even so much as snort or smile. When Eddie asked why, he was told he couldn’t be told that or else it would be seen as influencing his testimony. And then Hopper got up on the stand and said that.

D&D. Eddie DM’ed D&D after school. Jesus Christ did it take everything he had not to show any emotion at all.

Five hundred hours was nothing to slouch at. It came out to roughly three months. And he could only work eight hour days. He had barely graduated high school by the skin of his teeth and a fair amount of flattery.

Chief Hopper came to pick him up personally for his first day of community service.

Eddie came barreling out of his trailer only to stop in his tracks when he saw Hopper leaning up against his pickup truck arms folded and ankles crossed.

“Chief,” he said dryly. “To what do I owe this rather dubious pleasure?”

“Get in the truck, boy,” Hop growled. “I’m doing your uncle a favor and making sure you actually show up. And I will be taking you every day. You’ll work five days a week for eight hours a day. You will have three people sign off on your sheet every day. Me, Joyce Byers, and your direct supervisor, Murray Bauman. Every god damn day. Because if you miss one signature, one day and you’ll be thrown in jail. Do. You. Understand?”

Eddie gulped.

He nodded and quietly moved around the truck to get in on the passenger side, head down and shoulders rounded. He didn’t utter a single word the whole trip. He just followed Hopper through the doors and into Joyce’s office.

Sitting behind the desk was a lovely woman with kind eyes, standing beside her was a balding man with beady eyes behind thick glasses. Eddie hadn’t liked the sight of him at all. He just hoped the guy didn’t make his already miserable life even worse.

Joyce broke down all his duties, when he could take breaks and a lunch, and that those would be included in his service hours. He would get access to all the facilities but with the proviso that if a client wanted what he was using, he would have to give it to them.

Whatever that meant.

“Come on,” she finished. “Let me show you around, then Murray will spend all of today training you.”

She stood up and Eddie immediately followed.

“Hopper will sign you in,” Joyce explained, handing a clipboard with his time sheet on it and a pen to the police chief.

He signed it and handed it back to her, she put it on her desk.

“Then Murray and I will sign it when you’re done for the day,” she continued as she moved around the desk. “You are allowed sick days but only five, unless signed off by a doctor.”

Eddie breathed a sigh of relief on that one. He got hay fever something fierce in early September and there were some days that it got so bad he couldn’t see.

All three men followed her out the door. Hopper stopped in front of it.

“This is where I get off,” he said gruffly. “You’ll have to find your own way home as I’ll be at work when you get done.”

Eddie nodded. He shook hands with him and watched as he left.

Joyce smiled at Eddie brightly. “Let’s go.”

She showed him where all the equipment was and that he was charged with wiping it all down once an hour. They continued on and suddenly he heard it.

A sound he had not heard in years.

The sound of kids’ playful screams echoing around the sounds of splashing water. Holy shit, Uncle Wayne, he thought nervously. What did you do for the Chief of Police, hide a body?

Joyce opened the door and led Eddie through the humid air and strong scent of chlorine, pointing out his duties. Which included mopping the floors and grabbing the great big laundry baskets that held the complimentary towels to be taken to washed and also restock them every morning.

Eddie was practically vibrating now. Yeah, sure it was shit grunt work that was meant to be deliberately demeaning, but he got access to the pool. He would be able to swim again and for more than just a couple of times a summer where they would have free swim days when it got too hot.

They got to the end of the tour and Joyce turned around to face him, clapping her hands together.

“So you ready to get to work?”

Eddie sighed. Because yeah that part still sucked. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

“That’s the spirit!” she said with a laugh.

~

Steve stepped out of the showers and toweled off the best he could, throwing his white trainer polo on.

Because this pool was in Indianapolis where Olympic trials had been held more than a couple of times, it had the best of services for swimmers that could be offered. You had the standard lifeguards in the red polos, the coaches in the blue polos, and the trainers like him in white. It was supposed to be patriotic, but there were far too many countries that had the red, white, and blue color scheme for Steve to do anything but scoff at the notion.

What was the difference between a trainer and a coach? Well it depended on who you asked. If you asked a trainer, they would tell you age. They taught beginning, intermediate, and advanced classes.

If you asked a coach? They would tell that trainers only taught coaches inspired. They brought out the best in their students, fostered a love of water, and coached them in competitions.

They also had state of the art facilities, too. A kiddie pool, two Olympic sized swimming pools, an outdoor pool and water park, and even an endless pool.

Steve loved the endless pool. It was fifteen feet long and eight feet wide with a current that you could change the speed on so you could build up strength and endurance. It was how he unwound every day.

He stepped out of the men’s changing rooms and smiled at his assistant trainer, Robin Buckley who was waiting for him.

“You ready for another day of screaming, terrified children?” she asked with a grin, slinging one arm around his shoulders.

He returned her grin.

“You better believe it!”

~

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Also on the 14th, I'll be throwing myself a birthday party on my new Discord server for my writing. Link here. Come join me, ask questions about me or my work. I like to chat. I'll still be doing WIP Wednesday but a more informal vibe in Discord, too.

Tag list: TEN SLOTS REMAINING

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[sansaorgana]

If the both of you were hurt in a accident, I can see Benny, even if he’s all battered and bruised, jump out of his hospital bed to see how you are 😍

hello, sweetheart! oh, he definitely would do that 😅💗 thank you for your request 😇 I got a little inspired by the movie Easy Rider when it comes to the accident 🙈

requests for benny are open 🥺🎀

Benny was a skilled motorbike driver and he knew when he could go faster and show off – he felt the motorbike like a part of his own body at this point. And as much as he loved to show off his skills in front of you, he would never do that when you were actually riding with him. No, when you were sitting behind him, clutching to his sides, he wouldn’t even speed up too much – just a little bit above the limit. Benny would never want anything bad to happen to you.

But Benny couldn’t control other people on the road. He could only control his motorbike but not the cars and trucks that were all over. Some of their drivers had a problem with the bikers – in the country that loved freedom so much, the ones who lived truly free remained the outcasts. And it was one of the truck drivers who made sure that Benny’s bike would lose its balance and end up in the ditch. Just like that, without even caring about the lady sitting in the back. He drove away. If he wanted to kill you two, then he could consider himself unlucky because Benny was too skilled to lose control of his motorbike completely and he managed to avoid the worst.

He had a slight concussion and his arm was twisted from putting it behind to soften your fall and make sure to at least protect your head. The nurses were trying to calm him down and make him rest but he couldn’t as he kept asking about you.

“Why isn’t she in the room with me?” He asked for the tenth time and the woman sighed, giving up.

“Women don’t share rooms with men,” she explained.

“I gotta see her,” Benny shrugged her off as she just finished putting a bandage over his twisted arm to make sure it would stay in one place now. “I gotta see my girl.”

“Mr. Cross, you’ve had a concussion. You should rest now,” the other nurse tried to make him lay down but he pushed her hands away.

“Not before I see (Y/N),” he gave her a deadly glare. “Why don’t you want to tell me what’s wrong with her?”

“You are not a family member,” the woman looked him up and down. He knew why they treated him like that – because he was a biker. A dirty bum and they didn’t approve of that lifestyle. In their eyes, it would be better for the society if he had died there.

“Just tell me the room number,” he mumbled but they looked at each other and left him, closing the door behind.

Benny was pissed. He was fine, after all. And he needed to see that you were, too. So, he jumped out of bed, feeling a little dizzy but ignoring it completely as he limped to the door. His legs were not broken but they still hurt badly after the fall.

He opened the door and found himself in the hospital’s corridor. He approached the small board with all the important information about the facility and he found out that the rooms for women were on the floor under his. So, he went to the emergency staircase – where no one would see him – and he slowly limped down with greeted teeth to handle the pain better. He was determined to find you and only then he would be able to rest properly.

He was planning to peek inside every room until he’d find you but at the sight of the woman at the end of the corridor, he realised he didn’t have to. He swallowed thickly as he approached your mother. She gave him a very dirty look but he also spotted some sympathy in her eyes when she saw the way he limped.

“Oh, Benny. I would beat the shit out of you but I don’t beat cripples,” she crossed her arms.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. (Y/L/N),” he looked down. “How is she?”

“She’s gonna be fine. But if I see her once more on that goddamn motorbike of yours, I’m gonna kill you, boy,” your mother threatened and Benny looked up to give her puppy eyes like a beaten dog.

“Can I see her?” He asked, quietly.

“Go on,” your mother shook her head and pointed at the door on his right.

Benny pushed them softly and smiled at the sight of you sitting on your bed. You were reading a magazine and stuffing yourself with chocolates your mother had surely brought you. You had a scratch on your cheek and a bandage on your arm as well.

“Hey,” he greeted you awkwardly and you looked up. Your heart skipped a beat to see him so weak and hurt.

“Oh, baby! They told me you had a concussion, you should be in bed!” You protested.

“They told you, huh? They didn’t want to tell me shit about you. Had to see with my own eyes,” he admitted with a chuckle as he limped to your bed to sit on the edge. “You okay, baby?”

“Well, I’m worried ‘bout that,” you pointed at your cheek. “I’m worried it’s gonna stay. The scar, I mean. What they gonna call me then? Scarface?” Your lower lip trembled. “And I’m gonna be ugly.”

“You’re never gonna be ugly, stop it,” Benny dismissed it with a shake of his head. “And how’s your head, dollie?”

“I don’t even have a concussion!” You told him with a smile. “All thanks to you.”

“I’m glad. And the arm? Why is it bandaged?” Benny pointed his finger at it.

“I might have scars there, too. But that I can cover, right? It just got pretty bloody and some glass got inside but it’s not infected, thankfully. They stitched it up a little, so yeah,” you explained and shrugged your arms. “Gee, baby, that was so scary. Why did that redneck do that? We were just riding, weren’t we? What problem did he have with us?”

“I dunno,” Benny shrugged his arms, too and he looked down. “But your ma’s right, you shouldn’t ride with me anymore.”

“Don’t be stupid, I already told her there’s no way. If it was your fault, I’d consider it but it was not! And in fact, I am alive thanks to you,” you grabbed his hand to squeeze it. “Now, give me a kiss and go back to your room to rest,” you ordered and Benny cracked a smile at you.

He loved you for your spirit and devotion. He leaned in to place a gentle kiss upon your lips and he traced gently the scratch on your cheek.

“If it stays, it’s gonna look badass, dollie, I’m tellin’ ya,” he whispered and you giggled.

“When you say that, you’re making me want for it to stay,” you admitted. “Now, go rest.”

“Can’t I rest here?” Benny asked, giving you puppy eyes.

“You can,” you nodded and moved slightly on the bed so he could lay next to you. You went back to reading your magazine and played with his hair gently to soothe him.

He was dozing off when two old nurses opened the door to your room rapidly and you looked up at them, confused.

“For God’s sake, there he is,” one of them said. “Mr. Cross!” She approached Benny to wake him up.

“Let him stay here, sister,” you pouted.

“Absolutely not!” She shook him and he opened his sleepy eyes to rub them.

“You shouldn’t shake him like that, he’s had a concussion,” you pointed out and pushed her hands away.

“He should be in his own bed,” she snapped at you angrily.

You didn’t like the way they were treating him. He was your sweet Benny, your lovely boyfriend, the love of your life. And they were treating him like a piece of shit – worse than a dog.

You gave her a dirty look and caressed Benny’s face gently as his hazy eyes focused on you.

“Hey, baby, I think you should go now,” you spoke to him softly. “But don’t worry, we’re going out tomorrow, yeah? And I’m gonna take you home with me, no matter what my mum says. And I’m gonna take care of you,” you promised. “Now, go, sleep it off,” you encouraged him to sit up slowly and leave your bed as the two angry nurses took him by his arms and nearly dragged him out of your room. “Be careful!” You shouted after them but they ignored you.

MASTERLIST || BENNY MASTERLIST

[brodieland]

.˚ 𓈒 ࣪.𝝑𝝔 10 Things I hate about you ´ˎ˗

Percy Jackson x Fem!Reader Synopsis: Where the plan of 'taming the shrew' commenced. Leo and Charles go around finding you a perfect match for Charles to snoop in on Silena!!! Warning(s): just swearing Word Count: 1170 A/N: readers only mentioned in the beginning, just a quick roll over from how the plan started. and silena and Charles should've lived idgaf. anyways idk how to feel about this one but fuck it we ball???

╰➤ MASTERLIST pt1

An abrasive feminist who does nothing but hate on men, that's what you were known for. Silena, a beautiful and kind girl who was adored through out school, that's what she was known for.

No one would've guess you two were sisters.

As you walked out of class, music ripping through your headphones, you found your sister out by the parking lot talking with a guy. Luke Castellan to be exact. You couldn't help but roll your eyes as you approached her.

"Yo Silena, time to head home," you crossed your arms as she turned. She knew of your opinion on the single brain-celled men of the town, but she seemed to think the opposite.

"Um, you can go home without me. I have-" she looked back at Luke, flashing a quick smile-, "a ride already."

You rolled your eyes once more, fake gagging as you headed down to your red car. "Whatever."

As you walked off, Charles Beckendorf couldn't keep his eyes off Silena. "She's beautiful."

"Not a chance," Leo said from behind him. "Her dad has a strict rule with no dating. Don't even bother."

"No I need to try. I know I have this."

"Yeah okay, I mean unless you know French your not getting anywhere near her."

"Im a fast learner," Leo couldn't help but laugh at the response.

﹒º. ౨ৎ

As you sat in your car, making your way toward the exit of the parking lot, you saw the most infuriating sight possible. It was your sister riding in that douches convertible. 'Oh what dad would say,' you laughed to yourself.

When you got home, you were sitting in your living room reading a book when your dad walked in with the mail. He saw one with your name on it as your sister walked in late.

"Sarah Lawrence? That's across the country, what happened to staying local?"

"Dad, that's what you decided, this is my dream," your dad turned around, noticing your sisters presence. "Would a certain someone like to announce who drove them home?"

You had a smug smile on your face, though Silena didn't find this so amusing. "Excuse me, what is your sister talking about?"

"Nothing," Silena exclaimed. Your dad gave her the look, the look saying I know you're lying so don't try it. "Luke drove me home."

She groaned and stomped around as your dad continued to drill into your brains how he refused to let you both date till college, absolutely wanting to avoid teen pregnancy.

"The boys here are massive incels who lack the knowledge of a shower, I like being single," you mused.

"God what planet are you even from?"

"Enough, both of you. Sit," your father instructed. "I know you hate the rule so fine, I'll change it. You can date."

Silena started squealing until your dad pointed at you. "When she does."

You snorted as Silena started yelling, "Oh my god, have you met her? She's probably gonna die alone!!"

"Then you'll never date," your dad smiled as he walked off toward his room.

"Can't you just take some tooth-gapped loser on a date so I can go out??"

"Nope," you sang out, popping the p as you walked off toward your room.

﹒º. ౨ৎ

Silena ran into the library where she and Charles met up for their French lesson. "Oh hey, um, Silena."

"Yeah hi. Any chance we can make this quick?"

"Uh yeah, we can just start with some pronunciations, or we can just get some French food and call it a day," Charles chucked, Silena stared narrowed eyed.

"Are you asking me out," Charles started stammering, "It's not like I could even go anyways."

"I thought maybe if you called it French tutoring then-"

"At least not til my sister finds a date, so yeah. Never. Going. Out," she rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"I'm sure it can't be that hard to find her a date."

Silena laughed, "Yeah right. Have you met her? She's impossible."

"I mean there's someone there for everyone, can't be impossible to find her one."

"Are you saying you would?"

"Would what? Find her a date," Silena shook her head aggressively. "I mean, if it means your let out of your prison... I'll do it.. for you."

As she squealed, Charles sat back wondering what the fuck he just agreed to do.

"Dude you're fucked," Leo said as he drank from his juice box. They were sitting in biology together as Charles was starting to freak out. "Why would you promise the impossible??"

"You don't understand. Silena is everything I've ever dreamed of."

"You spoken to her twice."

"Whats your point?"

"My point is we've asked nearly every guy in school, and they all wanna steer clear. You're cooked," Leo went on but Charles wasn't listening. Behind Leo, was a rugged raven-haired boy ripping the frog they were directing in half like it was a rotisserie chicken. He was laughing with his friends, two burly dudes. One looking like the perfect American boy, and the other with a cute baby face.

"I've found our guy," Charles pointed toward him. Leo just raised his brows.

"Dude, that kid literally went missing for like 8 months. Are you sure?"

"Whats his name?"

"Percy Jackson."

"I'm sure. I'm telling you. Got any ideas to convince him?"

"Your not gonna like where I'm going with this."

Leo wouldn't say the plan, so Charles knew it was ridiculous, but it's not like he had another plan. In the cafeteria, Charles watched from a distance as Luke Castellan drew a dick on Leo's face. When he came back, dick still on his face, he said the plans in motion.

"Okay, now will you please explain," Charles asked.

"We're gonna double agent. I convinced Luke to pay Percy into taking your crazy sister-in-law out on dates. While he's busy coughing up payments, you make your move."

"Lets just hope this doesn't backfire."

﹒º. ౨ৎ

The next day Leo made his way over toward Percy and his two other friends. "Hey guys!"

Leo greeted the three as 'baby face' patted his shoulder. "You guys know each other?"

"You know, I'm the one who got my boy here Frank with his girlfriend Hazel," Leo gloated.

"So you are a matchmaker?"

"A matchmaker, not a miracle worker," Leo rolled his eyes.

"Whats up bro?"

"I assumed Luke spoke to you," Percy nodded, clearly confused. "Perfect, we have an idea for you."

"Go on."

"You see my boy here," Leo pointed to Charles. "He'd be a much better option for the 'amazing' Silena. So we need you to make sure Luke can't get his hands on her."

"Dude, I'm getting paid one way or the other, no offense but I can only do so much."

"I'm telling you, stop stressing," the blonde one said. Leo whispered in Charles ear, saying 'thats Jason by the way.'

"Yeah, if you like her, then make it happen," Percy said as he walked off.

"God this is stressful," Charles groaned.

[ninii-winchester]

I don’t wanna live forever

Pairing : Demon!Dean X Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: angst, demon dean, violence, language. Unedited

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Been sitting eyes wide open behind these four walls, hoping you'd call

It's just a cruel existence like there's no point hoping at all

Baby, baby, I feel crazy, up all night, all night and every day

Y/n knew Dean getting the Mark of Cain was the most stupidest thing he's ever done, taking into consideration that he's Dean Winchester and he's done plenty of stupid in his life. Part of her wants to strangle Crowley for getting him into that mess but part of her knew that Dean would've done whatever it'd take to take down Abbadon. She didn't think it'd bring them here to this day where Dean would turn into a demon and leave the bunker for good. He's with Crowley and God knows where.

A knock on the door breaks her away from her thoughts. She looks up to see Sam standing in the doorway.

"Glaring at the walls of his room won't bring him back Y/n." He said sympathetically. He knew she was hurting as much as he was. After-all they both love Dean.

"What am I supposed to do, Sam." She sounded defeated. "I've tried calling him a thousand times and he doesn't answer."

"We're doing the best we can and we will bring him back, you know that." Sam replied walking towards her and sitting on the bed. "You know we always do." 

"Part of me thinks he doesn't want to come back, its like there's no point hoping." She felt herself tear up. "The mark is overpowering him."

"Hey don't think about it. Our Dean is still in there. We'll bring him back." Sam looked at her face. She looked tired. "Y/n you haven't slept in days. You should get some rest."

"Yeah."

I don't wanna live forever, 'cause I know I'll be living in vain

And I don't wanna fit wherever

I just wanna keep calling your name until you come back home

It's been days since Dean left and Y/n has had enough. She knows Sam's been torturing demons to find out Dean and Crowley's location but she can't just sit around anymore. She'll do whatever it takes to find him even if it's illegal. She opens up her laptop and hacks into the traffic signal camera's all over the country. She runs a facial recognition of Dean's face and the Impala's license plate. She crossed her fingers hoping it does it thing soon because the longer she stays on the site the more risk she's at getting into trouble. Although the bunker is untraceable they can't afford the feds on their ass.

The screen loads successfully and she jumps in happiness. The Impala last crossed a traffic signal three towns over. She didn't know when Sam would return so she didn't wait for him. She quickly changed into her Fed suit and drove towards her destination.

Knowing Dean, he's probably at some bar, she shortlisted the bars across that town and hoped she'd find him in one of those. She visited two bars and much to her dismay he hadn't been there. However at the third bar, she didn't find him but she found a clue.

"That man? Yeah he was here a few hours ago, got into fight with another guy. Beat him to a pulp so had to kick him out." The bartender said while cleaning the countertop.

"Any idea where he went?" She asked with hope.

"There's another bar ten minutes from here, you can check there." She tipped the man, thanking him for his help.

"Agent." He called out behind her, she turned to him, "be careful out there, that man's feral." She nodded and left

the place.

She walked in the inside the bar and it was almost empty considering it's pretty early in the day. She noticed a figure sitting at the bar top and immediately recognised him.

"Dean." She called out softly. He turned to look at her but then he turned again focusing on his drink. She said his name again and moved towards him but was stopped by an annoyingly familiar voice.

"Oh Vixen found her Squirrel. Didn't bring Moose along?" The voice spoke in a Scottish accent.

"Fuck off Crowley." She replied glaring at the man in the black suit.

"You wound me, darlin." He sassed. "Dean doesn't wanna go back so why can't you two blithering idiots.... LET HIM GO."

"I'm not fucking around here." She pulled out her gun pointing it at him, she removed the safety. "Let me talk to him. Alone."

"Your guns don't work on me." He replied smugly.

"I wouldn't be so sure." She challenged, knowing she'd carved the devils trap into the bullets. She knew she'd never have the heart to use it on Dean but Crowley is a different matter. The short man rolled his eyes and poofed away. She made her way towards Dean and sat beside him.

"Dean.." she said his name ever so softly just the way she always did. He didn't even turn to look her continuing to pour drink after drink in his glass. "Baby, let's go home." She moved her hand to put on top of his. He raised his brow at the gesture.

"I'm telling you this once. Leave." Dean moved his hand away and looked at her. No trace of a smile on his face, the smile she had come to love.

"No, I won't leave here without you. Come back home." She partially begged. "I don't wanna live without you, Dean. Please come home with me."

He stood up, his laugh resonating through the empty bar. She looked at him, hurt written all across her face. She knew this wasn't her Dean but seeing him act this way didn't hurt any less. She walked right in front of him as he stopped laughing.

"What's funny huh?" Anger bubbled inside her.

"Oh nothing." He shrugged, an evil smile appeared on his face. "You said you wouldn't leave here without me, yeah?" He asked rhetorically circling around her. "And you said you can't live without me either." He paused, dramatically thinking for a second.

"Dean.."

"How about I kill you then, right here, right now." He said stopping in front of her with a blade knife. "It'll be so much fun, for me." Y/n took a deep breath, her gun clutched in her hand tightly. "For you though..." he drawled with a chuckle.

"I don't wanna hurt you Dean." She replied.

"I don't think you can, even if you want to." Dean smirked evilly. "Last chance. Leave."

"I'm not going anywhere." She said. "Not without you."

"I'm gonna have so much fun." Dean scoffed before he grabbed her by the neck, choking her. She tried pushing his hand away but she was having a hard time. She kicked him the stomach making him loosen his grip but not completely let go. He threw the against the bar top, she groaned as fell. Her gun falling from her hand.

"This isn't you Dean." She coughed getting up.

"I told you to leave." Dean threw a punch but she moved out of way and his hand smashed a bottle. She punched him the jaw and he recoiled. He pushed her to ground and straddled her waist. He pinned her arms above her head in one of his hands, immobilising her.  The mark on his arm itched and he brought the knife to her throat. He pressed it and watched as blood trickled down the column of her neck.

"Do it." She said looking at him.

"I'll take my time with it." Dean replied smugly. Her scratched her cheek with the blade. He then moved it down to her collarbone and she screamed in pain. His lips formed into a sinister smile.

Y/n took a deep breath. She wasn't sure if Dean forgot that she mostly fights with her legs or was it his cocky demonic self that made him leave her legs completely unattended. She brought her legs upwards and hooked her them around his waist, catching him off guard and flipping him off her. That seemed to have pissed him off. 

She made a run for her gun but he was able to slash her side before she got her hands on the weapon. She gasped, her right hand touching the wound while she gripped her gun in her left.

"You're pathetic, you know you can't win yet you try so hard." Dean growled closing in on her. "But now I'm bored." He grabbed her left arm and twisted it until a crack was heard. She screamed as the gun fell from her hand. He picked it up and pointed at her head. He pulled the trigger without even blinking.

Y/n blinked as she felt herself being moved from her place. And then she heard a gunshot. Turns out Crowley moved her last minute before Dean fired. She watched Dean wide eyed, unable to process that he was going to kill her. She's alive not because he didn't want to kill her but because Crowley intervened.

"Why did you-" she barely let out but Crowley had disappeared but this time with Dean.

I'm sitting eyes wide open and I got one thing stuck in my mind

Wondering if I dodged a bullet or just lost the love of my life

Back at the Bunker, Y/n had her arm in a cast, the wound on her side stitched up and bandages all over her. She had taken painkillers for the physical pain but she doesn't know how to sooth her hollow heart.

She laid on Dean's bed and stared at the ceiling, unmoving. A knock resonated at the door and it opened a few seconds later.

"If you're here to tell me I was stupid and reckless. Save it." She said without removing her eyes from the ceiling.

"I know you just wanted him back." Sam replied.

"He's gone, Sam." A tear slipped from her eye. She sat up and looked at the younger Winchester "He wasn't my Dean." Before she knew her body shook and sobs escaped her lips. "Makes me wonder if I dodged the bullet or just lost the love of my life."

Sam sat beside her and wrapped his arm around her as much as he could without hurting her. "After everything that's happened, you still?" Sam trailed off not knowing how to continue.

"I told you Sam he wasn't my Dean. My Dean would rather die than hurt me. Of course I love him." She whispered in his chest. "It hurts to think of what he's become, so much more than these wounds could ever hurt."

"Dean's lucky you chose him. I'm sure he'll agree when he comes back." Sam assured her. "I won't give up on him. He's my brother. I'll bring him back for you. For us." Sam promised and he hoped he could keep that promise.

Part 2