#dean sees him as five and fifteen and twenty two all at the same time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ppangjae · 4 years ago

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SUN&MOON | Jaehyun

SUMMARY. Asking Jeong Jaehyun to accompany you to your family’s 1-week Christmas vacation as your boyfriend has its consequences. One can surely get through 1 week of pretending to be in love with an enemy, right?

GENRE. enemies to lovers!au | fake dating!au | tooth-rotting fluff | angst

WORD COUNT. 14.6k+ words (someone stop me)

playlist. sun and moon by sam kim | sun&moon by nct 127 | D (half moon) by dean

author’s note. i’ve always wondered how ‘ordinary people’ would be if the situation was switched and yn needed someone to be their fake boyfriend. but you know that i love making things messy and so i decided to add the enemies to lovers trope. have fun reading and no, you don’t need to read ordinary people before this fic! merry christmas? merry chrysler? merry crimmus?

disclaimer. you do not need to read ordinary people before reading this fic! this fic is made in a different universe and time, so consider this fic separate from ordinary people!

warnings. swearing!

taglist: @yasmini24 @jungjxxhyun @softieus @justineasian @chantellsievert @jaehyunnie77 @princessaecha @je0ngjaehyun @joyfuljaehyun @fluffyjaes @icelandicboo @chalcopyright @ethaeriyeol @svchengss @yourmagnanimousholiness @127-jaehyun @theunluckylistenermusician @mangotexts @daydreamerblues

Even when we’re not looking at the same sky, we stay together like the SUN&MOON.

“If I’m the dumb of dumb and dumber, then that means you’re the dumber.”

It’s unfortunate that you couldn’t agree any more with your best friend, Jungwoo, who’s setting up the projector in his living room. The projector turns on after twenty straight minutes of Jungwoo just smacking the top of it, as if it would do anything. Projected onto the off-white walls of his apartment is a PowerPoint presentation and to your surprise, it’s not a presentation about how you’re the dumber one out of the two of you. Instead, it’s a PowerPoint presentation about—

“Five reasons why Jeong Jaehyun should be the fake boyfriend you’ll bring home for Christmas.”

“Turn that shit off before I rip your hair off your scalp—”

“Listen, hear me out.” Jungwoo cuts you off, pressing the button on his clicker to move on to the next presentation slide. The next slide shows a very dorky picture of Jaehyun sticking two fingers up his nostrils and you assume that it’s some sort of blackmail that Jungwoo uses. “Reason number one, he is a handsome and smooth motherfucker and I’m sure your parents will be very impressed.”

“Jungwoo, I hope you know that no matter what, I will not ask Jaehyun to pretend to be my boyfriend—”

“Reason number two,” Jungwoo ignores you, moving on to the next presentation slide. The slide shows a picture of all the boys in your circle of friends. Johnny, Sicheng, Jungwoo, Mark, and Jaehyun. Jungwoo points at each one of them. “Johnny is in a relationship, which means that he’s not an option. Sicheng is also in a relationship and he’s planning on proposing on Christmas Eve, not only is he booked and busy this Christmas, but he’s also not an option.”

“Jungwoo, you’re not dating anyone. You can pretend to be my boyfriend instead.” You suggest and Jungwoo clicks his tongue, shaking his head in reply. “What? Why not?”

“Do you think your parents would believe that I, Kim Jungwoo, so happens to be not only your childhood best friend but your boyfriend too?” Your face turns blank. He has a point. He smirks. “Exactly. That’s what I thought. Now, Mark has a crush on your younger sister, so I don’t think it would be ideal for him to be your fake boyfriend when he should be shooting his shot on your sister this Christmas.”

“He needs my approval first—”

“That’s not the point.” Jungwoo cuts you off, pointing the laser of his clicker to the wall, specifically at Jaehyun’s face. He circles the laser around Jaehyun’s face and begins to grin. “The point is that Jaehyun is your only option. Jaehyun’s single, he’s good looking, and it wouldn’t be suspicious to your parents.”

“Reason number three, Yeri and Haechan would definitely approve of Jaehyun.” Jungwoo explains.

“What makes you so sure about that?”

“Because Jaehyun is easily likeable, it would be odd if Yeri and Haechan didn’t like him.” He reasons.

“Do I look convinced?” You ask.

Jungwoo stares at you. He blinks before shrugging his shoulders. “I say you kind of do. Now, reason number four!”

The next slide shows a poorly-cropped photo of you and Jaehyun standing next to each other. You let out a snort, biting your lip and covering your mouth to stop yourself from bursting out into laughter. You’re appreciative of Jungwoo’s effort, but—

“Reason number four, you both surprisingly look good together. I think you guys suit each other, if I were to be quite honest. The only problem here is that you both hate each other with a lively passion.” Jungwoo shrugs his shoulders. “Don’t give me that look, Y/N—”

“Okay, fine!” You raise up your hands in defeat. Jungwoo grins. “Does it look like I actually have a choice? I swear I have the worst luck—”

“You do—”

“Everyone of you is taken and my parents would have to be extremely gullible if you pretended to be my boyfriend. That leaves me no one but Jaehyun, who’s unfortunately single and the only one that seems more convincing.” You sigh with defeat. You fall back against Jungwoo’s leather couch, kicking the air out of frustration and stress. “That’s problem number one of two. Problem number two is—”

“So, you’re actually going to ask him—”

“—how the fuck am I going to ask Jeong Jaehyun to be my fake boyfriend for one week?”

“Are you on crack or something?”

“Stop laughing at me, you fucker.”

Jaehyun’s playing with his chain bracelet, a smug grin plastered on his face. Oh, how you wish you could wipe that grin off his face. Fine, as much as you hate to admit it, Jaehyun does look good. He looks good in his oversized hoodie with his hair gelled back and a few of its strands framing his slim face. But that’s not the point, the point is is that—

“No.”

“No?” You repeat his answer. He raises an eyebrow questioningly. “Wait, did you just say no?”

He nods his head, clasping his hands together and smirks. “Why? Did you want me to say yes?”

You let out a scoff of disbelief. “Does it look like I want to do this? With you, specifically?”

“I mean,” he shrugs his shoulders. “You could’ve just simply said that you had a budding crush on me just like how you did when we were fifteen instead of going through the long route and asking me to be your fake boyfriend for your one-week holiday vacation with your family.”

“Why, you little—”

“Calm yourselves before you start clawing each other’s faces, holy shit.” Jungwoo arrives at the table booth with a tray of your orders. Jungwoo slides into the seat next to you, handing the both of you your burgers, fries, and drinks. You and Jaehyun are having an intense glaring competition. “Stop eye-fucking each other it’s making me feel uncomfortable.”

“We’re not.” The both of you say in unison. “Shut up.”

“You irritate me.” You roll your eyes, opening the wrapper of your burger and taking one big bite. Jaehyun looks at you with disgust, mumbling a few curses underneath his breath before taking his first bite. “And for the record, I do not have a budding crush on you. What happened when we were fifteen was just a joke. You just so happen to be the single one out of the guys and I just so happen to forget telling my parents that Taehyung and I broke up—”

“And you just so happen to think that I would easily say yes?” Jaehyun dips a french fry into ketchup. Before shoving the french fry into his mouth, he sticks his tongue out at you. “Try harder, Y/N. I’m not going to do it.”

“Fine,” you snap. “It’s not like I wanted you to do it anyways.”

“But you still tried—”

“Fuck this shit and fuck you,” you grumble, nudging Jungwoo to make room for you to leave. Jungwoo looks at you then back at Jaehyun. You’re too pissed off to notice Jungwoo give Jaehyun a warning look. “I’m out. I’ll just ask someone else, maybe Yukhei or Yuta. I’m sure one of them would be nice and kind enough to help me out for just one goddamn week.”

Jaehyun’s presence is enough to ruin your day. This is a living example. You huff out a breath, realizing that you have to ask for a takeout bag for your burger and fries. Cursing underneath your breath, you begin to head to the front cashier counter to ask for a—

“What’s in it for me, then?”

You stop in your tracks. You have your back facing the two of them. You slowly turn around. “If I give you something in return, would you do it?”

Jaehyun shrugs his shoulders. “It depends on what you’re giving me.”

You frown. “I’ll do your laundry for a year—”

“Y/N will get you that vintage LP turntable that you wanted.” Jungwoo cuts you off. You’re about to protest but Jungwoo gives you a look that silences you. “Even the records you wanted.” (**vintage marantz 6200 turntable)

It’s terrifying how you could see a fire igniting in Jaehyun’s eyes. The corners of his lips slowly move up to reach his ears. He slowly places his burger down.

“Fine, I’ll do it. When do we start pretending?”

“I told you to pack one luggage, not three.”

Jungwoo looks at you through the rearview mirror. It’s been five minutes since the three of you hit the road and an argument has already begun to ensue. Jaehyun, however, seems unfazed by it. In fact, he’s too distracted by the beautiful snowflakes falling from the sky and falling onto the ground to form a fluffy blanket. Just by the argument that’s about to start in the back of the car, Jungwoo’s worried that the one-week plan might fall through the cracks.

“You told me to pack a week’s worth of clothes.” Jaehyun tears his gaze away from the view outside of the window to look at you. To his surprise, you’re already looking at him. With your pierced gaze, it catches him off guard, but he plays it off by letting out a scoff.

“And a week’s worth of clothes just so happens to fit in not one but three luggages?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Well,” Jungwoo cuts into the argument, his darting between the two of you through his rearview mirror. He gulps nervously. “If you count the winter coat, the shoes, and everything else, one luggage actually isn’t enough—”

“Don’t take his side.” You whine. You fold your arms. “Well then, how come I managed to fit a week’s worth of clothes into one luggage?”

Jaehyun eyes you up and down before gesturing your clothes. “Maybe it’s because you have a poor sense of style—”

“I do not!” You exclaim. He purses his lips into a tight line, looking away from you. You let out a frustrating sigh. “God, I can’t believe I’m spending a week with you.”

“If I were you, I’d watch it with the snarky remarks.” Jaehyun warns you. “The moment I get ticked off, I can simply just tell your parents the truth.”

You look at him with wide eyes. You feel threatened. “Oh, you would not do that.”

“Oh, yes I could and I would.” Jaehyun squints his eyes at you.

“Are you threatening me?”

“Yes.”

From the rearview mirror, Jungwoo watches you pout in defeat. You’re looking away from Jaehyun, turning your body towards the opposite direction. Jungwoo, however, catches Jaehyun spare you a gaze that lasts longer than it should before his lips form into a soft smile.

“Jaehyun, one point. Y/N, zero points.”

“Shut the fuck up and focus on the road, Jungwoo.”

There’s a sole reason as to why you and Jaehyun have bad blood. Ridiculous as it sounds, Jaehyun has been categorized as three different things throughout your entire life. Childhood friend, crush, and enemy. There was a time where you and Jaehyun were childhood friends. You’d always be attached at the hip. Whatever was yours was his and vice versa. But things began to take a sharp turn when you started liking him.

You started liking Jaehyun at the innocent age of fifteen. It was the year where you and the group would go on overnight camp trips. Jaehyun had just come back from studying in America for a year. You remember seeing Jaehyun stepping out of his mother’s Mercedes-Benz in nothing but a loose basketball t-shirt and jean shorts and thinking, wow, I think I’m in love with him. Things haven’t been the same since.

The switch up of him being the love of your life to your enemy happened on the last night of your camping trip. The group had decided to get a dip in the lake while you and Jaehyun stayed back to set up the bonfire. It was your only chance to tell him, you remember convincing yourself. You planned it out carefully, where you would confess to him and if he returned the same feelings, you’d date. But if he didn’t feel the same way, you both had the brutal option to shove memories of that year’s camping trip into the back of your mind, not to be dug up again. It was stupid of you to think that the former would happen instead of the latter.

Ever since then, just the thought of you crushing on Jaehyun made your blood boil. You wish it never happened. You wish you never saw Jaehyun in a different light. You wish your heart never skipped a beat too many when you liked Jaehyun.

You wish you never liked him.

“We’re here, kids.”

It takes a harsh shove for you to wake up. Your eyes shoot open and your hands ball up into fists as you prepare to fight someone. Fight or flight response. As your eyes meet Jaehyun, he glares at you. Jungwoo watches the both of you from the driver’s seat.

“Your head’s incredibly heavy, did you know that?” Jaehyun complains after pushing your head off of his shoulder, getting out of the car. You scoff, grumbling underneath your breath as you get out of the car. The door slams shut. Jungwoo smiles at the cute interaction.

As you step out of the car, you feel yourself shiver from the chilly breeze that hits against your cheeks. Your instinct is to warm up your cheeks with your knitted gloves. Jaehyun’s pulling out your things from the trunk. It’s not long until you hear a loud screech a couple of metres away. You’re closing the trunk as Jaehyun sets down the last luggage and someone jumps over you, almost making you stumble over. You let out a yelp, looking over your shoulder to see Yeri on your back. You let out a scream.

“You said you weren’t coming home for Christmas! What are you doing here?” You exclaim, pulling your younger sister into a tight embrace. Yeri giggles, wrapping her arms around you as she snuggles into your warmth.

“Of course, it was a lie. I wanted to surprise you and Taehyung—you’re not Taehyung.” She pulls away from the hug and looks up at Jaehyun. She looks at the both of you with confusion. She points at him. “You’re not Taehyung. Y/N, are you sure you brought the right guy home for Christmas?”

You and Jaehyun share a look. Get into your act, Jaehyun reminds himself and he immediately straightens his posture. He extends his hand out to Yeri and Yeri raises an eyebrow. “Hi, I’m Jaehyun. We’ve met before you studied abroad but I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m Y/N’s boyfriend—”

“Boyfriend?” Yeri blurts out. She looks at you in shock. “Since when did you drop Taehyung so fast?”

You let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of your neck. Somehow, it’s difficult to come up with an answer but before you could at least utter out a word—

“It’s getting quite cold outside, shall we head in?” Jaehyun suggests, throwing his arm around your shoulder. You’re too bothered by your thoughts of your ex-boyfriend to even notice that Jaehyun’s doing skinship with you. “Babe?”

Babe? You snap out of it. You look up at him. “R-Right, it’s getting cold. Let’s head inside.”

Yeri stares at the two of you and grins. “Well, I’m happy you dropped Taehyung. I never liked him for you anyway. It seems like Jaehyun’s a better suit for you, but I’ll have to find that out myself. Welcome home, Y/N. And Jaehyun, make yourself at home.”

Jaehyun’s not sure why Yeri’s words send a shiver down his spine. As your younger sister is the first one to head back into the cabin, the both of you glance at each other. You push Jaehyun’s arm off your shoulder, scrunching your nose in disgust, and pulling out the handle of your luggage. “Let’s head inside, it’s freezing.”

“Y/N, if we’re going to pretend like we’re dating, at least make it look real.” Jaehyun mutters.

“Sorry, I was just caught off guard about—” You begin before stopping yourself. You bite your lip. “Let’s just head inside, we wouldn’t want everyone waiting for us at the dinner table, especially my parents.”

Jaehyun purses his lips into a line. About what? He turns around to look at Jungwoo. Jungwoo’s too intimidated by what had just gone down and he’s not sure if he could handle it any longer. “Thanks for the ride, Jungwoo.”

Jungwoo looks at Jaehyun nervously. “Make sure you guys kick ass with this fake relationship because from what had just happened now, I’m not sure if the act will last long.”

“Oh, we will.” Jaehyun shoves his hands into his pockets. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“You better.”

The moment your parents looked at Jaehyun from across the dining table, you just knew. Your mom is the first to set her spoon and fork down onto the table, tilting her head in confusion before looking at you with a slightly questioning gaze. Mustering up a smile, you shrug your shoulders, glancing at Jaehyun who’s sitting next to you on your right. Jaehyun, however, has been great with putting up the act. He has the fakest smile spread across his lips and his body is tensed up. You’re too busy trying to stop yourself from breaking out into a teasing smile, but you fail at doing so. Jaehyun places his hand on top of yours, gently rubbing the top of your hand with the pad of his thumb. Your smile grows wider when you notice how moist and sweaty Jaehyun’s hands are.

He’s nervous, you think to yourself. Maybe you could get used to this, where Jaehyun is a nervous mess in front of your parents who look intimidating—but are definitely far from it.

Your dad’s reaction comes a bit later than your mom’s. He’s looking up from his plate and he chokes on his food when his eyes land on Jaehyun. “Wait, you’re not Taehyung.”

Jaehyun chuckles nervously, nodding his head. He sucks in a breath. “I’m Jaehyun, Y/N’s boyfriend. I’m not sure if you remember me but Y/N and I went to the same high school and—”

“Ah! That’s right! I knew you looked familiar.” Your mom exclaims. Jaehyun suddenly feels nervous under your mom’s gaze and he sets his spoon and fork down to engage in the conversation. Your mom glances at you. “Y/N, sweetie, I think you need some explaining to do. I wish you told me sooner that you and Taehyung weren’t dating anymore because I assumed you were still together and I even bought him a Christmas present—”

“We broke up, mom.” You bite your lip, shoving a spoonful of soup into your mouth. You’re avoiding your mom’s gaze, but from your periphery, you can see Jaehyun looking at you. “We broke up three months ago. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. I could still give Taehyung your present—”

“Oh, no, you don’t need to, sweetheart.” Your mother shakes her head. She looks at Jaehyun apologetically. “I’m sorry, Jaehyun, I probably made things a bit awkward.”

Jaehyun tears his gaze away from you. He smiles. “No worries.”

Yeri clears her throat. “Jaehyun, are you worried that you might be my sister’s rebound—”

“Yeri.” You glare at her as you hiss. “Please—”

Your words are cut short when Jaehyun squeezes your hand. You glance at him and his face softens. He looks at your sister. “I’m not worried at all. Sure, we’ve been dating for only two months. Sure, Y/N had just gotten out of a relationship. Sure, her wounds are still fresh. But asking your sister to give me a chance was my choice, and just the fact that your sister gave me a chance tells me that she’s ready to move on.”

For a brief moment, Jaehyun looks like he’s being sincere about his words. It feels so real, almost like he’s telling the truth. If you were someone else, you’d definitely believe him. He’s being too creative with this act, and you definitely have to reward him some brownie points for the effort.

You don’t notice the small smile forming on your lips. Jaehyun’s eyes meet yours and he mirrors your smile. “Right, Y/N?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Right.”

Your dad lets out a light-hearted chuckle. “I think you both suit each other. I see a difference in my daughter’s aura, Jaehyun, it must be because of you. When Taehyung spent the Christmas holidays with us, Y/N looked completely different.”

“Is that a good sign?” Jaehyun jokes.

“Yes.” Your dad flashes him a warm smile. “Kudos to you, it means you’re doing a perfect job.”

Jaehyun’s smile falters.

It means you’re doing a perfect job.

A perfect job of acting. This isn’t real.

The first day of the holiday vacation is a trip to the Christmas Market. Every year, you and your family spend the first day of the holiday vacation at the Christmas Market for a variety of things. It could be an opportunity to pick out gifts for your Secret Santa, it could be an opportunity where your parents will visit the grocery shop to get groceries for the Christmas Eve dinner, or it could simply be an opportunity to shop around for yourself and have fun.

It’s also the day where your cousin Haechan and his family will move into the cabin for the week. The cabin is always busy and full of joy when both your family and Haechan’s family are there. It’s what makes the holiday vacation much more special. It’s sort of like Midas touch.

“Please remember that we parked right in front of the Gingerbread House because you know that I’ll forget.” Your dad commands the moment all of you hop out of the SUV.

Jaehyun looks at the hustle and bustle of the Christmas Market. He’s amused and fascinated by all the dimly-lit lights scattered all over the market. To set the Christmas mood, it’s lightly snowing and all Jaehyun could smell is hot chocolate from the cafe a couple of metres away. “This is…”

“Amazing?” You look up at him.

He nods his head. “Yeah… amazing.”

As all of you reach the entrance gates of the Christmas Market, everyone begins to split ways, leaving you and Jaehyun behind. You remove your hand from Jaehyun’s. “Well, I’m going to go shop around for my Secret Santa. You can go and do whatever you want for the meantime, unless you want to join me—”

“Let me join you—��

“Ew.” You scrunch up your nose in disgust. “Fine, do whatever you want, I guess.”

Jaehyun reaches down to grab your hand and you raise an eyebrow. He shrugs his shoulders. “You never know, we might bump into them in the shops and they’ll wonder why we’re not holding hands.”

“Do we always have to hold hands?” You question. “I’m sure holding hands is not a mandatory requirement for couples. Besides, your hands are disgustingly sweaty.”

Jaehyun lets go of your hand and looks at it. “Are they?”

You snort. “Let’s go before they start wondering why we’re just standing here doing nothing.”

He fails to notice that you’re already walking away from him because he’s too distracted by his ‘sweaty’ hands. He grumbles angrily underneath his breath, ready to protest only to see that you’re no longer standing in front of him. He looks up to see you already a couple of metres away. He wipes his hands on the sides of his jeans and begins to jog up to you.

“Wait! Hold my hand! Y/N! They’re not sweaty anymore!”

You hear him calling out to you and it only makes you smile and let out a bubbly giggle.

“Are you my Secret Santa?”

Yeri jumps at your voice, completely startled. You burst out into laughter. She frowns at you and folds her arms. You and Jaehyun had so happened to bump into Yeri at the jewelry shop. It’s been at least an hour and a half since you started shopping for your Secret Santa and you still haven’t gotten anything. You figured that a stop at the jewelry shop will help you out.

“I’m not,” Yeri mumbles. “I got Haechan this year.”

“And how do I know that you’re not lying?”

The jeweler comes back to the counter with a beautiful Louis Vuitton necklace. You lean closer to Yeri to get a better look of the necklace. Yeri turns the LV pendant around to reveal an engraved ‘H’ on the back. You let out a sad sigh. “I told you. I’m Haechan’s Secret Santa this year. Believe me now?”

“I’m kind of disappointed that you’re not my Secret Santa this year. You always go out with the gifts and I’d be more than grateful to receive a beautiful necklace like this.” You sigh again. “It’s alright. You still need to give me a birthday gift anyways.”

“Your birthday is in March.” Yeri snorts.

“Anyways, I’ll continue shopping. Don’t make your pockets hurt too much, alright? You got textbooks to buy when you go back to university once the Christmas break is over.”

She groans. “Don’t even remind me.”

You laugh. Before you’re walking away, a familiar necklace catches your eye. You look down at the glass counter to stare at the necklace. It’s the Louis Vuitton silver lockit that you’ve always wanted to buy. Your smile is replaced with a frown. You shrug off your sad thoughts before moving on to another glass cabinet of chain bracelets.

Jaehyun observes you as you walk away. He walks closer to the counter, looking down at the necklace you were just looking at. Yeri nudges him and he glances at her.

“You know, Y/N’s always wanted that necklace, but I’m not sure if she wants it anymore.” Yeri whispers quietly. “She told Taehyung that the moment she saw that necklace, she dreamt of having it. They were six years into their relationship when Y/N found out that the woman Taehyung was seeing behind her back was given the exact same necklace.”

“Taehyung cheated—” Jaehyun stops himself. He looks over his shoulder to see you standing on the other side of the room, talking to the jeweler about a few sets of chain bracelets. You don’t look as happy as you were a while ago. He frowns, looking back down at the necklace.

“I’m sure Y/N never told you about that,” Yeri mumbles. “That’s because I’m the only person that knows. But since you seem to be a good guy for my sister, I figured it would be safe to tell you.”

“Why do you trust me so much?” Jaehyun asks.

Yeri shrugs her shoulders. “I guess it’s because my sister would never replace the man she loved so much with someone else this fast. But she did, and that could only mean that you must be very special to her.”

But I’m not. I’m not special. Jaehyun thinks to himself. He purses his lips into a tight line. “I see. Thank you for putting so much trust in me. You barely even know me.”

“No problem.” She beams at him. “Anyways, you’re being a bit too obvious.”

“Me? Being a bit too obvious? About what?”

“About being Y/N’s Secret Santa.”

“Well… shit.”

The cabin becomes more lively the moment Haechan and his family enters. Haechan immediately rushes to his usual room which is right across from Yeri’s. The two of them are like two peas in a pod, either always bickering over the smallest things or having late-night conversations in the cabin’s basement. There’s no in between. They’re truly cousins.

“Who just ran past?” Jaehyun asks you. You’re busy stirring up two cups of hot chocolate. One for you and the other for— “Hey, thanks for the hot chocolate—”

“Haechan, get here before your hot chocolate gets cold!” You yell, turning around and leaving Jaehyun in the kitchen to meet Haechan halfway.

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m here—who the flipping heck are you?” Jaehyun looks past your shoulder to see who he assumes is your cousin Haechan. Haechan gently grabs his mug of hot chocolate from you and takes a quick sip.

“Me?” Jaehyun points to himself.

“No, the dude standing behind you—of course, I’m talking to you.” Haechan quirks an eyebrow. Well, what a sassy cousin. No wonder you’re both related, Jaehyun thinks to himself. “Hi, I’m Haechan, Y/N’s cousin. You probably already know that.”

“I’m Jaehyun,” he introduces himself. “Y/N’s boyfriend.”

“What?” Haechan blurts out. “I thought—weren’t you dating—I am completely and utterly confused. You have some explaining to do, Y/N. You dropped Taehyung pretty fast. I am also Taehyung’s Secret Santa, now how the fuck am I going to give him his present?”

“Exactly what Yeri said, no wonder the both of you get along so well.” You roll your eyes. “About Taehyung’s gift, just leave it with me and I’ll give it to him for you—”

Haechan squints his eyes at the two of you with suspicion. “I’m getting the vibe that you guys aren’t really dating but are just putting up an act—”

“We’re not.” You both cut him off in unison.

“Huh, well,” Haechan grins. “It’s just surprising to see that you’ve moved on from a long relationship with Taehyung that fast. You replaced him really quickly. I wonder why.”

Jaehyun wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “Things just happen. It was nice meeting you, Haechan.”

“I guess this Christmas holiday will be spicier and messier than I thought.” Haechan smirks. “It was nice meeting you too, Jaehyun.”

Haechan saw right through the two of you and that alone sends shivers down your spine. Just as he’s about to head back to his room with his hot chocolate, you reach out for the ends of his sleeve, tugging him back. He looks at you questioningly.

“Yes, Y/N, my beloved cousin?”

“Don’t tell anyone.” You beg.

“Y/N—” Jaehyun’s eyes widen.

“I fucking knew it!” Haechan exclaims before Jaehyun reaches out to cover his mouth with his hand. Haechan glares at Jaehyun, licking his hand. Jaehyun yelps, wiping his hand against the side of his pants with a look of disgust.

“Haechan, please don’t tell mom, dad, or Yeri. You are the only one that knows about this. If you tell them then we’re—”

“Screwed? Yeah, I know.” Haechan chuckles. He pats your shoulder. “No worries. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Promise?” Jaehyun squints his eyes at him.

Haechan glances at him. “I promise. But, what’s in it for me?”

“I’ll get you the PS5—”

“I’ll get you those speakers you wanted—”

“PS5?” Haechan’s eyes widen like saucers.

You bite your lip, looking at Jaehyun. You mumble, “you’re making the biggest mistake right now, Jaehyun—”

“Deal. Your not-so-real boyfriend will be getting me a PS5 in exchange for keeping your not-so-fake secret.” Haechan puts his hands up as if he’s going to preach. “I give you both the family’s blessing.”

You playfully punch him in the stomach, and he bends over in response. He groans. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Go unpack your things before Jaehyun changes his mind.”

Haechan obliges to your order, leaving the both of you in the kitchen before looking over his shoulder. His eyes meet Jaehyun’s and he smiles. “Welcome to the family, Jaehyun. I think I’m starting to like you already. Not for my cousin, but you get it.”

“How the fuck am I going to get your cousin a PS5?”

It’s the second day of your Christmas holiday, and you find yourself lying against the snow. It snowed a good twenty centimetres overnight and Haechan dragged you out of bed just to make snow angels before it gets shovelled away. Fortunately enough, it’s still snowing and the pretty sight of snowflakes falling from the sky brings a bright smile to your face. Haechan lets out a happy sigh.

“So, why did you do it?”

You look to your right. Haechan’s not looking back at you, he’s looking up at the sky. You raise an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“Your fake relationship.” Haechan clarifies, finally looking at you. “Why did you do it? I mean, you could’ve simply told your parents that you and Taehyung broke up instead of bringing Jaehyun into this mess.”

You give yourself some time to come up with an explanation because surprisingly, you didn’t have one. Well, you did have one, but now that Haechan’s confronting you about it, you suddenly think your reasoning is stupid.

You shrug your shoulders. “I just didn’t want to disappoint my parents.”

“You didn’t want to disappoint your parents?” Haechan asks.

You hum in reply. “Taehyung and I dated for six years. That’s a long time. My parents adored him. When we broke up, I was devastated. Six years of dating down the drain. I guess I just didn’t want my parents to see me look like a mess over him.”

“And so you asked Jaehyun to pretend to be your boyfriend for the annual Christmas holiday?” You nod your head. Haechan purses his lips into a tight line and nods his head understandingly. “I get where you’re coming from.”

“I figured it would be better for my parents to know that although Taehyung and I broke up, there’s still someone out there who stepped in to take care of me.” You add with much hesitation. “It would be better for them to know that than seeing how horrible I am because of the breakup and how I haven’t been taking care of myself properly.”

“Well, you should give your fake boyfriend some credit for putting in so much effort to pull such an act in front of your parents.” Haechan says. “For a week too.”

Haechan’s right. No matter how much you hate Jaehyun, you must consider the fact that Jaehyun decided to help you out. He could’ve simply neglected you—like he always does—and made you embarrass yourself in front of your parents. He could’ve just flat out not help you at all. But he did.

Somehow, it makes you wonder. Why? If it’s so simple for Jaehyun to not help you at all, why did he end up helping you anyway? There must be a catch, aside from the vintage turntable you have to get him in return. There’s definitely a deeper reason as to why Jaehyun’s doing this for you.

“You guys are up really early.”

You and Haechan sit up from the snow to see Jaehyun standing at the door. He has a hot, steaming cup of coffee and it looks like he had just gotten out of bed. Haechan waves him over. “Finish your coffee and join us out here!”

“I think I’ll pass—”

“It snowed?!” Jaehyun’s cut off by your younger sister, Yeri, who pushes past him. She steps out onto the porch and extends her arms out to catch snowflakes in her bare hands. She smiles. “Don’t move! I’m putting on my jacket and I’ll join you.”

She hurriedly rushes inside, zooming past Jaehyun. Jaehyun quirks an eyebrow. His gaze is focused on you. You’re bursting out into laughter after throwing a snowball at Haechan’s face. He’s in the midst of rolling up a snowball only to get hit in the face by another one. “Hey!”

You stick your tongue out. “You snooze, you lose.”

Jaehyun smiles. “On second thought, I think I’ll join.”

And so he does. He sets his cup of coffee down and lets it run cold. In a couple of minutes, he finds himself lying next to you on the snow. He’s looking up at the sky, snowflakes getting caught in his long eyelashes. You sit up, looking down at him. You fall into his line of sight and he can’t help but notice how pretty you look. Your lips are itching to smile.

“You have long eyelashes,” you point out.

He nods his head. “You noticed.”

“And,” you mumble, getting lost underneath his gaze. “Your ears are really red.”

“Huh? No, they’re not—”

“They are—”

“They’re not—”

“They are—oof!”

You gasp, immediately wiping snow off your face. Jaehyun bursts out into a cackle. “I can’t believe you didn’t expect that to happen!”

You frown. “It was bound to. You’re going to pay for this!”

Haechan and Yeri watch you and Jaehyun chase each other out on the front lawn that’s covered in snow. You’re both chasing each other with snowballs, throwing them at each other when the opportunity is there. Yeri lets out a happy sigh.

“They look happy together, huh?” Yeri asks.

Haechan nods. “They do. Your sister looks different from last Christmas.”

“Yeah, you could tell her and Taehyung weren’t doing so great.” Yeri agrees. “I kind of knew they were going to break up eventually. Taehyung looked like he had already fallen out of love and was just trying to find the right opportunity to end things with her. But now, she looks happy. Happier, I mean.”

“With him?” Haechan questions.

“She looks happier with him,” Yeri smiles proudly. “She also looks like she’s been set free.”

Haechan purses his lips into a tight line, letting out a sigh that Yeri can’t tell if it was a happy or sad sigh. He falls back against the snow, muttering to himself. “Oh boy, this isn’t going to end well.”

“Did you say something?”

“Me? No, nothing at all.”

The fireplace is the only thing keeping you warm in the surprisingly cold living room. You’re sitting right in front of it with a fresh mug of hot chocolate for good measure. Everyone’s sound asleep in their rooms, but you somehow can’t seem to fall asleep. Placing your mug onto the coffee stand, you pull your knees to your chest and you rest your chin on top of your knees.

“You’re still awake?”

You look over your shoulder to spot Jaehyun standing at the doorway. He looks like he had just woken up from his deep slumber. He’s rubbing the sleep from his eyes and trudges his way towards you. You look up at him, nodding your head. “I can’t sleep.”

“You know, I’m sure your parents are wondering why we’re sleeping in different rooms.” Jaehyun suddenly brings up.

You scoff. “I am not sleeping in the same bed with you—”

“We don’t have to. I’ll just take the couch and you can sleep on the bed.” Jaehyun shrugs his shoulders, pointing at your mug of hot chocolate. “I’ll take the couch if you make me a cup of hot chocolate.”

“Why are you even awake?”

Jaehyun clamps his mouth shut. He scratches the back of his neck. “I noticed your door was open and I was wondering if you were still awake.”

You smirk. “You were concerned about me? How sweet.”

“Shut up.” He grumbles. “Go make me a cup of hot chocolate.”

You smile evilly. “No.”

Jaehyun’s too tired to bicker with you. He ends up occupying the empty spot right next to you in front of the fireplace. He hears you let out a sigh. “Do you think your parents believe it?”

“Believe what?”

He looks at you as if you’re stupid. “That we’re dating.”

“Oh,” you laugh. “I guess? My mom hasn’t spoken to me about you yet. Well, aside from that time she told me how much she liked you—”

“Your mom likes me?” He asks. “For you?”

You frown. “Unfortunately.”

“Admit it, I am the best person to take home for Christmas.” Jaehyun says with a smug grin.

You roll your eyes. “It was so peaceful before you joined me. Do you mind just going back to sleep and leaving me alone?”

“Fine, fine, fine, I’ll just shut up.” Jaehyun gives up, settling his gaze back to the fire.

It’s silent for a couple of minutes. There are so many things running through your head. You’re not sure where to start. Heck, you’re not even sure if you’ll ever stop thinking too much about the past. Jaehyun seems to notice how silent you’ve gotten. He shifts his gaze and stares at you. You have a distant look. Your eyes seem to sparkle, captivating him. He could see the gears shifting in your head.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Jaehyun clears his throat. “Why did you and Taehyung break up?”

You look at him with a broken gaze and it’s enough for Jaehyun’s heart to ache. You’re surely not over him. In fact, you look far from it. But he couldn’t blame you, you and Taehyung dated for six years. Six years of memories with someone special isn’t something to forget about so easily.

You laugh it off, but your teary eyes tell something else. “He cheated on me.”

“That…” Jaehyun trails off. “Sucks.”

You stare at him with raised eyebrows before bursting out into laughter. “That’s your reaction? That… sucks?”

“Well, I think Taehyung lost someone special.” Jaehyun says, avoiding your gaze. He looks at the fire, a smile threatening to spread across his lips. “I’m sure he regrets it now. If not now, he’ll surely regret it later on.”

“You see, the Jaehyun I’m talking to right now is much more pleasant.” You bite back a smile. “Why can’t you just be nice, like a decent person?”

“Look, this isn’t a one-way thing. Why can’t you just be nice either?” He asks and immediately, you’re both back to enemies.

It falls silent again.

“But, do you really think so?”

“Think about what?”

“That Taehyung lost someone special?” You whisper.

Jaehyun meets your eyes. Your eyes aren’t as glassy anymore. In fact, they look a bit more hopeful, a bit more happier. It makes his heart beat a beat too many.

“I know so.”

When my MOON rises, your SUN rises as well, under the same sky.

You’re almost halfway through your Christmas holiday with your parents and you can’t wait to go home. You can’t wait to go back to your normal, Jaehyun-free life. You’re sure Jaehyun can’t wait either. Your eyes flutter open and you’re immediately blinded by the sunlight peeking through the blinds. You let out a yawn, slowly sitting up on your bed and stretching your arms out.

Your arms drop when you feel an arm wrapped around your waist. Your eyes slightly widen. Glancing to your left, you see Jaehyun fast asleep. Tucking strands of your hair behind your ear, an idea pops into your head. With a mischievous grin, you quietly grab your phone from the bedside table, going to your phone camera. You slowly hold up your phone in front of Jaehyun’s face. His lips are slightly parted open and he lets out a snore that sounds like the honk of a car.

“This is perfect blackmail.”

Just as you’re about to take a picture, Jaehyun’s eyes flutter open and widen when he realizes that you’re attempting to take a picture of him— “Give me that!”

You let out a yelp. He grabs your phone and you use all of your willpower to tug your phone away from him. It’s a game of tug-of-war with your phone. Jaehyun’s much stronger and he yanks your phone with all of his might, causing you to fall on top of him. Your hands are pressed against his chest and he’s got his eyes clenched shut. You tilt your head in confusion, why are his eyes—

He peeps one eye open. “Why are your eyes closed?”

His other eye opens. “My eyes weren’t—I had something in my eye.”

“Yeah?” You grin. “Then why are your ears red again?”

“They’re not red—”

“They are!” You exclaim, pointing at them as you move off of him. Out of instinct, he covers his ears with his freakishly large hands.

“They’re not.”

You raise up your hands in defeat. “Fine.”

He slowly uncovers his ears that are still red. “Good morning, I guess—”

“Y/N! Jaehyun! The skating rink opened! Let’s go before it gets crowded!”

“Time to get out of bed, Jungwoo, stop worrying.” Jungwoo tells himself, slapping his cheeks and getting up from bed.

All week, he’s been worrying about you and Jaehyun. Things could either work out really well, or it’ll all crash and burn. He shrugs off his thoughts, finally getting out of bed to make himself some breakfast. As he trudges his way to the kitchen, he stops in his tracks when he spots his projector still sitting on the coffee table.

“How could I forget to put that away?” Jungwoo scolds himself, walking over to the coffee table. He opens his laptop to disconnect the projector, only to stop.

The PowerPoint he made specifically for you is still open on his laptop. He had probably gotten a bit too drunk from the beer you both had that night and forgot all about it. He goes through the PowerPoint and stops at one particular slide, a soft smile spreading across his lips.

Although he forgot all about the projector and his laptop, there’s one thing he remembers from that night.

“I guess she’ll never know what reason number five is.”

“You don’t know how to skate?”

Jaehyun stands near the board, holding onto the railings for his dear life. It’s a funny sight, in fact, it has you doubling over in laughter. Haechan and Yeri had already ventured off, skating with each other on the ice, bickering like the cousins they are, and making each other trip because concussions are the sweetest revenge. You’re stuck with Jaehyun near the boards, waiting for him to gain the courage to push himself onto the ice.

“It’s not that bad, Jaehyun.” You reassure him. You hesitatingly extend your arm out to him. “In fact, if you trust me enough, let me teach you.”

“You’re not going to make me fall on my face, are you?” He squints his eyes at you with suspicion.

“I mean, I could,” you shrug your shoulders. “But I’m not that evil.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“I mean, I trusted you enough to help me and pretend to be my boyfriend in front of my family. You could’ve just sabotaged my plan and embarrassed me instead.” You answer.

You had a point. He lets out a sigh, grabbing your hand. Funny thing is that Jaehyun’s hand doesn’t feel sweaty this time around. It feels soft, warm, and perfect in yours. It’s like your hands were meant to hold each other. You begin to skate slowly and you could feel Jaehyun’s reluctance.

“Just trust me, Jaehyun.”

“I’m trying—”

“Then try harder, doofus!”

“Okay, Jesus—oof!”

Jaehyun slips, completely making a fool out of himself. The way he falls looks extremely embarrassing and there are a couple of kids laughing at him. You frown, looking down at him. He sighs, his back falling against the ice. Suddenly, Jaehyun sees you fake a fall, falling down right next to him.

“Did you just—”

“Fake a fall? For you? Yes.” You cut him off. “Just go with it.”

“Wait, why?” He chuckles.

“Because your fall is giving me second-hand embarrassment.” You mumble. “Now, let’s get back up and start again. I’m sure you’ll get a hang of it soon.”

And so you both start again. Jaehyun’s hand absentmindedly reaches out to grab yours, interlocking his fingers with yours. At first, you help Jaehyun skate by skating backwards and bringing him along with you. It takes him a couple of falls and trips, but it’s not long until he’s almost getting the hang of it.

“I told you, it’s not that bad.” You smile.

“I think I can do it.” Jaehyun says softly.

“Do you think so?” You question.

He slowly nods his head. “I might as well try.”

“Alright, I’ll be standing over there. I want you to skate to me.” You point towards one of the corners a couple of metres away. You glance at Jaehyun. “Are you sure you could do it?”

“Let me try.” He insists.

Before you skate off, you let go of Jaehyun’s hand. The warmth of your hand immediately vanishes, and suddenly, Jaehyun feels like he’s missing something. He stares at your back as you skate away. When you turn around to face him, he quickly shifts his gaze away from you. You open your arms, gesturing for him to begin skating over. He sucks in a deep breath and begins to skate over, slowly but surely. You find Jaehyun quite adorable and it makes you start to smile.

Jaehyun looks up from the ice to look at you. You’re smiling at him. But the smile you have on is a different smile. It’s bright, so bright that it blinds him. Your smile feels so foreign, yet so familiar. It’s so familiar that it reminds him of the time when you were both fifteen. It reminds him of the moment you confessed your crush on him. It’s so foreign that it’s been ages since he last saw a smile like that on your face. He’s not sure if Taehyung made you smile that way. He could feel his heart shrivel up, time slow down, and all he could think about are the ways he could make you smile like that forever—

“Oh!”

Jaehyun falls, his butt landing on the ice with a soft thud. You gasp, your mouth hanging open in shock. The both of you just stare at each other in surprise before you’re the first one to break it. You wheeze out into laughter, bending over as you continue to laugh at him. Jaehyun’s too absorbed by your adorable laughter that rings in your ears that it makes him start to laugh with you.

From a couple of metres away, Haechan slows down and watches the both of you laugh. Jaehyun’s sitting on the ice and you’re bending over, laughing so hard that even Haechan can hear it.

“This is surely not going to end well.”

On the fourth day, you’re all rummaging through the cabinets for recipe ingredients. Apparently Haechan still thinks Santa exists and so now you’re all spiralling into a mess trying to bake Santa a batch of cookies. Yeri slams the bag of flour onto the countertop and sighs. Jaehyun’s busy mixing the butter, brown sugar, and white sugar in a bowl. You’re greasing the pans and preheating the oven.

“You know, Santa doesn’t exist—”

“Shut up, Jaehyun!” Haechan gives Jaehyun a warning look. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Jaehyun wipes the sweat off his forehead and glances at you. You’re putting a couple cups of flour into the bowl. A smile slowly occupies his lips when he notices your dusty hair that’s covered in flour. His eyes trail down towards your face, his smile widening, there are some traces of flour on your cheeks. You wipe your cheek, only to make it worse.

He’s itching to wipe the flour off your cheeks, but why does he suddenly feel shy and hesitant to do it? The both of you are supposed to act like a couple. At first, it was so easy for him to pretend to be your boyfriend. But why did it suddenly become difficult? When did it suddenly become difficult?

“Why are you looking at me, love?” Jaehyun snaps out of his trance, caught red-handed.

He shakes his head, still smiling. “Nothing.”

“You’ve got flour on your face, dumb dumb.” Haechan points at your cheek.

“I do?” You ask, your hands immediately reaching for your cheeks until—

Jaehyun gently wipes the flour off of your cheeks. His eyes are focused on your cheeks that are heating up with embarrassment. He looks… handsome—

“Thanks.” You stop yourself from thinking too much.

This is all fake. Remember that.

Jaehyun looks at you with an expression you can’t read. He gives you a genuine smile.

“No problem, love.”

“Jaehyun, do you mind checking up on the cookies?”

Haechan wakes Jaehyun up from his nap. All it takes is a light nudge and a couple of pokes to the cheek for him to get up from the couch. He looks out the window and surprisingly, it’s snowing. Jaehyun stretches his arms out, slowly getting up from the couch. He trudges his way to the kitchen to find you washing the dishes. He’s about to call out your name, but he stops himself. You’re humming to yourself, rinsing the dishes underneath the water. As you place the clean dishes onto the dish rack, you walk over towards the oven to check up on the cookies.

You squat down, looking through the window to see the cookies almost done baking. Suddenly, you see someone squat down next to you from your peripheral vision. You make the biggest mistake of turning your head. Jaehyun’s already looking back at you, his face inches away from yours. You could feel your heartbeat pick up its pace.

You clear your throat, quickly looking away from him and acting as if nothing had happened. You point at the cookies. “I think they’re almost done. Let’s give it a couple more minutes—”

“You’re pretty.”

You slowly meet his gaze, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “S-Sorry?”

Jaehyun snaps out of it. “I said, you look like a piggie.”

You scoff, pushing his shoulders. He falls back onto the hardwood floors with a soft thud, glaring at you. You roll your eyes, getting up from your squat position to get back to dishwashing.

“Piggie, my ass.” You grumble underneath your breath.

You’re scared. You’ve never felt this scared.

The last time Jaehyun ever made your heart race was when you were fifteen. He should not be letting your heart race like that again.

But it is.

“I can’t believe it’s already Christmas Eve.”

“I’m happy this week is almost over.”

You and Jaehyun are in the bathroom, brushing your teeth. He finishes first, wiping his mouth with a face towel and throwing it in your face. You yell at him, grabbing the towel and throwing it at his back. “I’m glad I don’t have to romantically associate myself with you after this.”

Jaehyun raises his hands up. “Surprise, surprise, me too. Two more days of this shit and I’ll finally be free. Don’t forget that vintage turntable you promised me—”

“I never break my promises—”

“I didn’t say that—”

“But you were implying it—”

“Babe, I’ll be downstairs to help set up the dining table for breakfast.” There’s a sudden change in Jaehyun’s voice, making you straighten up your posture. It happens out of instinct. You clear your throat, stepping out of the bathroom to see your mother entering the bedroom.

“Mom, hey,” you greet her nervously, scratching the back of your neck. “Did you need something?”

She shakes her head, a small smile on her lips and she makes herself comfortable on the edge of your bed. You awkwardly stand in front of the bathroom, fiddling with your fingers, a bad habit of yours that you can’t seem to drop. Jaehyun picks up your mannerism and slowly exits the bedroom to leave the two of you alone. Why was this making him feel nervous? Did your mother see through the two of you?

“I just wanted to check up on you,” she says softly. “About you and Taehyung.”

You bite your lip. “I don’t think there’s much to say about Taehyung and I—”

“Why didn’t you tell me that the both of you broke up?” She asks with concern. “Were you afraid that we would be worried about you?”

You slowly nod your head in reply. “I was terrified.”

“Well, you can always tell me anything. You know that.” She reminds you.

You let out a soft sigh. You’re so close to telling your mom the truth. That this whole relationship with Jaehyun is a lie, that it’s a front to keep them from feeling disappointed in you. That Jaehyun is merely just an enemy, someone far from your boyfriend. But you bite your tongue to stop yourself.

“Taehyung cheated on me,” you whisper. Scratch that, it barely comes out above a whisper. Your mom is silent. You bite your lip. “I know. I reacted the same way.”

“How long? When did you find out?” She questions. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. He doesn’t deserve you.”

Then, who does? Who deserves you? Do you deserve to be loved? The thought makes your eyes water, but you blink them away before your mom notices. You can’t look weak in front of her, she will only see right through you.

“I found out a year and a couple of months before we broke up.” You answer and your voice almost cracks. “He’s been seeing her for a while. I mean, we’ve been dating for six years and I found out he started seeing her when we were four years in.”

“Are you okay?” She asks. “Will you be okay?”

You purse your lips into a tight line. “I hope so. I mean, Jaehyun’s been too good to me and sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve it—”

“From the looks of it, Jaehyun’s keeping you happy.” Your mom smiles. “But what makes me sad are the times you came home with Taehyung for Christmas and acted like everything between the both of you was alright, when you knew that he was seeing someone else.”

“I didn’t want to disappoint you.” You whisper.

She shakes your head. “You’ll never disappoint me, Y/N. I will always be proud of you.”

The tears flow down so easily. Your mom pulls you into an embrace and gives you gentle, soothing rubs on the back. You warm up to her embrace, snuggling into her neck and letting out a sigh of relief.

“Besides, I think Jaehyun is doing a pretty good job at helping you move on. You look different to how you looked when you were with Taehyung. There’s something more brighter and prettier about your smile that you have on whenever you’re with Jaehyun.” Your mom explains.

“You think so?”

She smiles.

“Yes, I do.”

The four of you sit in front of the fire, all sporting the same pair of red, plaid pajamas and ugly sweaters. There are four presents sitting right in front of you, waiting to be given out. It was Haechan’s idea to stay up until midnight, where it’d officially be Christmas Day and you could open your Secret Santa gifts. Patience is such a virtue, and Haechan clearly doesn’t have it.

“I can’t believe the week is almost over.”

Haechan doesn’t get a single word from any of you. You’re a bit tipsy to find the right words to say to him. The Christmas Eve dinner was eventful but you can’t seem to stop thinking about how Jaehyun looked at you from across the dining table. There’s something different about the way he looks at you now, and it bothers you.

You feel a slight nudge. You glance to your side to meet Jaehyun’s gaze. “What?”

“Do you remember when you first confessed to me?”

You scoff, covering it up with a cough in case Yeri picks up your sudden change in attitude. You say through gritted teeth, “Of course I do, babe. Do you remember?”

Jaehyun’s close to chuckling. He tears his gaze away from you and stares at the fire. It reminds him of that night at the campsite, where the both of you were setting up the bonfire. He remembers finding you really pretty and adorable that night, and he was itching to tell you. But he couldn’t do it. He remembers hearing you call out his name with a soft voice, how his heart skipped a beat. You were looking up at him with hopeful eyes. And then you confessed to him.

“Of course I do,” he mumbles with a shy smile on his lips. “How could I ever forget?”

You’re staring at him a bit too much. The small smile on his lips kind of throws you off. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. It comes out as a whisper. “What do you mean?”

It seems he has heard you because he shrugs his shoulders. “What do you think I mean?”

You’re tipsy. “You’re being extremely confusing, Jaehyun.”

When Jaehyun finds the courage to look at you, you almost let out a soft gasp. The way he looks at you is the same way he looked at you that night at the campsite. It terrifies you. You look away from him.

“Do you regret it?”

“Regret what?”

“Confessing to me that night.” He clarifies for you.

You purse your lips into a tight line. “A huge part of me does, but that’s only because you rejected me.”

“I did not reject your confession.”

You scoff. “Yeah, because flat out saying ‘I don’t return the same feelings as you.’ isn’t considered a rejection.”

“Would you ever,” he begins to ask, but he stops himself.

“Would I ever, what?”

“Would you ever fall in love with someone like me?” He questions. “No, would you ever like me? Again?”

You’re definitely drunk.

“If you weren’t so much of an annoying brat, I would.”

“You would?”

“Sure. Maybe in a heartbeat.”

And in a heartbeat, Jaehyun finds himself feeling terrified because the feelings that he forced himself not to feel anymore don’t seem to leave, but instead grow stronger. Why did he have to be in love with you? Why is he such a coward? A fool? He’s not sure. But being in love with you is the best thing he’s ever done, and if being in love with you was a mistake… it would be his most beautiful mistake that he’s ever made.

And a beautiful mistake you truly are, when he carefully holds your face in his large hands, when he watches your eyes flutter shut as he leans in, when your lips are inches away from each other, when he kisses you out on the porch underneath the snowflakes falling from the sky.

As you both pull away, time that felt frozen had gone back to normal and the images that remain stuck in his mind is the look of confusion you had given him and the J necklace he gifted you that’s wrapped around your neck.

“I have another gift for you, Y/N.”

“What is it?” You ask softly. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I had to, I was your Secret Santa, right?” He pulls out another box from his pocket and hands it to you. He sucks in a deep breath. “I hope you like it.”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, eyes trailing down to the box into your hands. You gently open the box and you could feel your breath getting caught in your throat.

It’s the silver lockit you’ve always wanted but never got.

The only difference is that you’re not sure if you wanted it after finding out Taehyung cheated on you.

Jungwoo pulls up to the cottage with an empty trunk and free hugs. You and Jaehyun step out of the cottage, not uttering a single word to each other since that night out on the porch. You didn’t care if your parents noticed that distance you both had in between each other, you were too lost in your thoughts and feelings. The moment Jungwoo spots the two of you out on the porch, he feels his heart stop. Something surely happened between the two of you.

“You better have that PS5 ready. I kept this relationship under wraps for a whole week.” Haechan whispers into Jaehyun’s ear when he puts him into a headlock.

Jaehyun shoves him away. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“You’re leaving soon?” You ask Haechan.

He shakes his head. “We’re gonna stay back with your family for the rest of the day. We’re leaving tomorrow morning. I kind of wish you guys stayed just a little bit longer.”

“I was only able to book a week off from work. Sorry, Haechan.” You frown. The both of you hug. “It was nice seeing you again after so long. Study hard, alright? If a girl breaks your heart, just let me know who I have to fight.”

And soon enough, you’re both heading towards Jungwoo. Your parents are waving you goodbye from the porch and Jungwoo starts driving down the road. Jungwoo looks at the both of you through the rearview mirror, wincing when Jaehyun’s lips part to start a conversation, but you quickly look away from him and out the window to avoid it.

What happened, exactly?

“Thanks for the ride, Jungwoo.”

With the slam of a trunk, you meet Jaehyun’s eyes and purse your lips into a tight line. You fake a smile. “Thanks for helping me, Jaehyun. I really appreciate it. I’ll get you your vintage LP turntable as soon as—”

“You don’t need to get it anymore,” he mumbles, shaking his head. “I was kidding anyways.”

“Alright,” you mumble. “I’ll get going. I’m sure the both of you are tired from the trip—”

Jaehyun feels his heart clench. “Can we—Can we talk?”

Jungwoo bites his lip nervously. You look at Jungwoo from over your shoulder with a questioning gaze. He gestures for you to take your time and he swore he saw you grimace. You smile at Jaehyun, but Jaehyun knows it’s not genuine. “Sure.”

Jaehyun helps you bring your luggage inside of your apartment, placing them right near the door. You stand a few metres away from the door, giving him some space to stand at least a metre away from you. He clears his throat. “So—”

“What is it that you wanted to talk about?”

He clamps his mouth shut. He feels his hands grow sweaty. “I wanted to talk about last night and why it seems as if you’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not avoiding you, Jaehyun—”

“You are.” Jaehyun cuts you off. “I know you are, but could you at least tell me why?”

“I don’t think we should.” You bite your lip.

He frowns. “Is it because of the necklace?”

You let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head. “No, it’s not because of the necklace—”

“So, it is because of the necklace—”

“Fine. It is because of the necklace. You want to talk about it? Fine.” You let out a frustrated sigh. “Why did you think that this would be a good idea? To give me a necklace that does nothing but remind me of my cheating ex? Right after you kissed me, too?”

“I thought it would give you closure—”

“Closure?!” You let out a bitter laugh. “For what?”

“Because Taehyung is holding you back. Your relationship with him is holding you back. You need to move on, Y/N. Taehyung is not coming back for you—” He begins to explain.

“I’ve established that fact the moment he left me for her. Besides, my relationships are none of your business. On top of that, why do you care so much? This is my life, not yours—”

“Maybe I care so much because—because I—” His heart hurts so much.

“Don’t you dare finish your sentence. I’m sick and tired of your jokes, Jaehyun. Y/N this and Y/N that. Budding crush here and embarrassing crush there. Whatever happened when we were fifteen will remain in the past. I liked you, you didn’t like me back and rejected me—” You look broken.

“Wait, what?” He looks at you with confusion. “I didn’t reject you. In fact, when you confessed to me that night, I was on top of the world because I returned the same feelings—fuck, I still do—”

“You laughed at me when I told you that I liked you—”

“And then you took it the wrong way. Months after that summer, I was figuring out why you were avoiding me, why you were ignoring me, why we suddenly became strangers, only to find out that you’re dating Taehyung—” You look at him incredulously.

“Is that why you decided to help me? Because I look like some charity case, huh? Because you felt bad that my six-year relationship ended with a third party? Or you just wanted to have fun and laugh at me for being so weak? For being the poor little girl who got left behind because her stupid little boyfriend got bored of her? Or you just—”

“You’re not a charity case and you never will be—”

“Then, why?! Why are you helping me? Why do you care so much—” You yell out with frustration.

“Because I’m in love with you, Y/N. I’ve always been in love with you, but you were always running away. And I was always trying to chase after you. I still am. I figured helping you do this for your parents would give me a chance to—” He confesses.

“What? A chance for me to start liking you again? To fall in love with you again?” You mumble. You shake your head. “You had your chance when we were fifteen, Jaehyun. It’s been six years.”

“Y/N—”

“You had many chances. You’re nothing but a coward and a fool.” You point at the door. “Now, please leave. I’ve had enough of this.”

“I—” He begins before he cuts himself off. “Fine, I’ll leave. Whatever suits you, I guess.”

You watch him breathlessly as he steps out of your apartment and slams the door behind him. You flinch at the sound, breaking down completely when you sit on the hardwood floors of your apartment. Jaehyun lets out a sigh, hearing you start to cry from outside your door. He fights himself from knocking on your door to comfort you, but he figures he’s the reason why you’re crying.

As he steps out of the building, Jungwoo frowns upon spotting him.

Something surely did happen.

And it’s surely not good.

That half-full MOON looks just like me right now. Nothing comes even close to having half of you. If only I had just half of you. If only.

Two months later…

“I have a delivery for Jeong Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun looks at the delivery man with confusion. He tilts his head, signing the papers before getting a huge box placed into his arms. “I don’t remember ordering anything but… thank you.”

With disheveled hair and wrinkled clothes, his half-awake self places the box onto the table. He rummages through the drawers in his kitchen for a knife to open the box after struggling to open it with his bare hands. He opens the box and immediately spots a small envelope sitting right on top of an LP turntable. He almost drops the knife out of shock. With shaky hands, he grabs the envelope and traces the handwritten letters that spell out your name.

He carefully pulls out the card and reads what you’ve written in it. Suddenly, he finds himself grabbing his coat from the coat rack and rushing out the door.

A notification pops up on your phone.

You grab your phone, continuing to brush your teeth. You let out a snort when you hear Jungwoo singing and talking to himself in the kitchen. When you unlock your phone to read the notification, you feel your heart skip a beat.

Order delivered. Thank you for shopping with us!

You step out of the bathroom after brushing your teeth. “Hey, Jungwoo?”

Jungwoo is in the midst of flipping a pancake, looking over his shoulder. “Oh, you’re awake? Do you need something?”

You shake your head. “No, I don’t need anything. I just wanted to ask if Jaehyun knows that I…”

“Moved out? Moved in with me?” Jungwoo finishes your sentence and you hesitatingly nod. He shakes his head, looking away from you to finish cooking the pancake before burning his fourth one. “No, he doesn’t know. I figured you didn’t want him to know.”

“Ah, I see.” You mumble.

He stops. “Wait, why’d you ask?”

You shake your head. “Nothing. Hey, do you mind if I use your laptop for something? I just need to clear out my father’s emails. You know him, he always forgets to do it and thinks it’s my responsibility to do it.”

He nods his head. “Yeah, go for it. You don’t even need to ask.”

As you step into your bedroom, you log into your father’s email, only to realize you’ve forgotten the password. You sigh, typing in all the possible passwords from the top of your head, failing to log in successfully. Your last resort is to call your mother to ask for the password.

“And how could I help my lovely daughter on this fine morning?”

“Stop being cringey, mom.” You roll your eyes.

“Hi, sweetheart. What’s up?” She chuckles.

“What’s dad’s password to his email? I’m trying to clean out his inbox again. You know, it’s a monthly thing I do for him. I should get more credit.”

“Alright, the password is your birthday and Jaehyun’s name in capital letters. Funny how your father decided to use that as his password after he needed to renew it during our holiday vacation.” Your mother says and you fall silent. “Speaking of Jaehyun, how are you guys?”

You’re typing in the password and it works. You let out a chuckle. You begin to lie. “Uh… we’re doing alright. It's his birthday tomorrow, actually.”

“Did you get him something?”

You hum in reply. “I did.”

“What did you get him?” You smile.

“Something he always wanted. Something he told me not to get.” You reply, opening a PowerPoint document your father’s client had emailed him. When you open the PowerPoint, you notice another presentation opened on the application. “Sorry, mother, I think I have to call you later.”

“Alright, talk to you soon.”

You toss your phone to the side, clicking on the familiar PowerPoint presentation opened. It pulls up right in front of your eyes and you let out an airy laugh.

Five reasons why Jeong Jaehyun should be the fake boyfriend you’ll bring home for Christmas.

Reason #1: He is a handsome and smooth motherfucker and I’m sure your parents will be very impressed.

There are many times you’ve been left speechless and struck by how charming Jaehyun is. Well, you did have a crush on him when you were fifteen and your parents seemed very convinced when you brought him home for Christmas.

Reason #2: Johnny is in a relationship, Sicheng is in a relationship and Mark has a crush on your sister. Jungwoo is too obvious and not an option. This makes Jaehyun the perfect candidate.

Jaehyun surely was the perfect candidate. It was almost as if he was meant to pretend to be your boyfriend. It felt so meant to be that a small part of you wished that it was real, but you were too hung up on your last relationship to even notice.

Reason #3: Yeri and Haechan would definitely approve of Jaehyun.

They both really adored and loved Jaehyun. It’s a huge difference between the awkwardness they felt when you were with Taehyung, especially when you introduced him to them.

Reason #4: You both look good together. You both suit each other. The only problem is that you both hate each other with a lively passion.

From time to time, you would look at the group pictures you took on Christmas Eve in front of the Christmas tree. You would do it to try and imagine a better person standing next to Jaehyun instead of you, simply because you knew you didn’t deserve someone like him. He’s just too good to be true.

You click onto the next PowerPoint slide and your breath hitches in your throat.

Reason #5: Jaehyun’s in love with you. You just don’t know that he is. But I, Kim Jungwoo, knows. Why and how, you ask? He told me. In fact, Jaehyun’s been in love with you for the longest time… ever since the both of you were fifteen.

You shut the laptop, tossing it to the side and grabbing your phone. It’s almost as if your feet had a mind of its own, dragging you out of your bedroom and straight towards the door. You’re grabbing your coat and keys as you head out without warning—

“Hey, where are you going? We still have to eat breakfast—and she’s gone.” Jungwoo lets out a sigh, looking down at all the pancakes he made and all the burnt ones he placed on another separate plate. He sighs again. “I guess that leaves me with all of these pancakes to eat.”

“Y/N—you are not Y/N.”

An old lady stands at the door, looking at him questioningly. She blinks once and twice before her eyebrows raise. “Ah! Are you looking for Y/N? The beautiful young lady who lived here before me?”

Jaehyun slowly nods his head. “Y-Yes, I’m looking for Y/N.”

The old lady folds her arms. “Well, I could tell you where she is because I know where she moved in. But I’m not sure if I could trust you enough to tell you. Who are you, exactly? And how are you related to her?”

Jaehyun bites his lip. “I’m her… boyfriend. No, ex-boyfriend—actually, I’m not quite sure—”

“Ah, so you’re the guy she was talking about? The coward? The fool?”

Jaehyun smiles sheepishly. “I—I guess that’s me, yes.”

She chuckles. “Alright, Jaehyun—”

“You know my name?”

“Yes, now listen to me carefully before I forget telling you.” She commands. “She moved out a couple of months ago to move in with her best friend. She left me instructions, actually. She told me that if a handsome man shows up at the door and introduces himself as Jaehyun, I must tell him that he’s a coward and a fool.”

He scoffs. “What is with her?”

“But,” she smiles. “She also asked me if I could tell him where she moved in case he looks for her. She said she’s sure it’s not going to happen, but she asked me to do this favour for her just in case it does.”

“T-Thank you,” he whispers.

“Now, I’m sure you know which best friend she lives with. But before you leave, I want you to remember one thing.” She continues. “Before you find her, go and grab her some flowers. When you finally find her, don’t chicken out and tell her exactly how you feel. I’m not sure why she calls you a coward and a fool, but if it’s because you weren’t true with your feelings to her, then use this as your second chance.”

Jaehyun chuckles. “I’ll make sure of that.”

She shoos him away. “Now, get going. You might catch her on time.”

And Jaehyun follows her advice. On his way to Jungwoo’s apartment, he drops by a flower shop. He picks up a bouquet of white lilies and pink daisies. He rushes out of the flower shop and starts sprinting to Jungwoo’s apartment a couple of blocks away.

As he reaches the apartment building, he presses the button for the elevator. When the elevator doors open, he almost rushes into someone until—

“Jaehyun?”

You’re looking at Jaehyun. You both look out of breath. You gawk at him with shock that you barely utter a word except for his name. Jaehyun snaps out of it, walking into the elevator and you back up, your back gently pressed against the wall. You watch him as he presses the buttons to all 20 floors of the apartment building before closing the elevator doors.

“What are you doing—”

“For you.” He hands you a bouquet of lilies and daisies. You awkwardly take the flowers from him.

“T-Thanks.” You whisper, losing confidence just because you’re not sure what to expect from him.

You both face yourselves away from each other. As you reach the second floor, Jaehyun closes the doors right when they open. He scratches the back of his neck.

“So, when did you move out?”

You bite your lip. “Two months ago.”

He hums in reply. Another awkward silence fills the atmosphere.

“How have you been?” You both ask in unison before smiling sheepishly. You shyly look away from him.

“I’ve been great. But I could be doing better.” He says softly. “With you.”

You look up at him. He’s already looking at you. “I assume the old grandma told you where I moved.”

He slowly nods his head. “Yeah.”

“Ah, I see.” You say softly.

The elevator reaches the third floor. The doors open and Jaehyun closes them immediately. You bite your lip. “Look, Jaehyun—”

“You know, I’m still in love with you.” He confesses again. “I mean, I always have. It’s not like I can force myself to stop being in love with you because I tried and it’s impossible to do and so—”

“Jaehyun, you’re rambling.”

“Am I?” He laughs nervously, looking away from you. “Sorry, I do that when I’m nervous and I’m really nervous right now.”

“Did you get the—”

“The LP turntable?” Jaehyun asks and you nod your head. “Yeah, I did. I got it this morning. T-Thanks.”

You smile. “No problem—”

“You remembered.” He mumbles. “I didn’t think you would remember. I didn’t even think you would get me one either, but you did.”

“How could I forget?”

Another awkward silence. Fourth floor, same routine. The doors open and Jaehyun closes them.

“Y/N, please say something because I feel really nervous right now and I’m not sure if you’re mad at me or if you’re sad or if you just really don’t want to talk to me and if you don’t, that’s completely fine, just tell me and I’ll hop off on the next floor—”

“I’m not mad at you, Jaehyun. I mean, if I am, I would be the one getting off the elevator right now.” You cut off his ramble. “And you’re rambling again.”

“Sorry, it’s a bad habit.” He apologizes. “So, you’re not mad at me?”

“How could I be mad at you?” You chuckle. “Besides, I feel nervous standing next to you right now. It reminds me of how I felt when I was about to confess to you when we were fifteen.”

Fifth floor. “O-Oh? Really?”

You reach out to press the button to close the doors. “Yeah.”

“Well, as I was saying, I’m still in love with you, Y/N. You don’t have to return the same feelings. I just felt like telling you would clear things up. You can forget about me after this, but I just didn’t want you to remember me as the fool and the coward and just—”

“So, you were in love with me since we were fifteen?”

“God, yes.” He sighs. “I’ve been in love with you for the longest time. When I told you that, I knew you wouldn’t believe me and I understand if you still don’t. But I’m telling you the truth—”

“When do you want to come home and visit my parents?”

You ask.

“Wait, why?” Jaehyun asks, letting out another nervous laugh. Sixth floor and the doors close again. “Y/N, you’re being a bit confusing right now—”

“My parents miss you, actually. I missed you.” You explain. “But you don’t need to if you don’t want to—”

“I can pretend to be your boyfriend again, Y/N. Anything for you—”

“Not as my fake boyfriend, but as my real boyfriend.” You correct him.

He stares at you. “Are you in love with me?”

You feel your cheeks heat up. “How could I not be?”

The elevator stops at the seventh floor. Jaehyun breaks out into the biggest smile, gently grabbing your cheeks and crashing his lips onto yours. You stumble back from the impact. He walks forward and you walk backward until you're both standing in the corner. He kisses you passionately and gently that it makes you weak in the knees.

“Y/N? You forgot to bring this—oh fuck, what the fuck?!” Jungwoo sees the both of you making out in the elevator when the doors open. Jaehyun quickly presses the button to close the door. You giggle, pulling him closer, not wanting any of this to end.

Jungwoo scrunches up his nose in disgust. “Gross. But cute. I think my work here is done.”

“Babe, I’ll be over there getting popcorn for us. Alright?”

You nod. “Alright. I’ll go and buy the tickets.”

Jaehyun boops your nose with the tip of his finger before heading towards the food court. You’re printing out tickets with the self-checkout booth. Just as you’re about to move to the side for someone else to use the booth, you hear your name being called out but it’s not Jaehyun’s voice.

You look up from your tickets to see—

“Taehyung?” You squint your eyes to get a better look of the guy approaching you. Indeed, it’s your ex, Taehyung. “Oh, it is you.”

“Long time no see.” He smiles. He’s about to reach in for a hug but you stand still. He chuckles sheepishly. “How have you been?”

You smile. “Better. You? How are you and Injae?”

His smile falters. “We’ve… We’re not together anymore, actually.”

“Ah, I see. Sorry about that.” You apologize.

“Have you—Have you been seeing anyone, lately? I mean, there must be a reason why we’ve bumped into each other. It must be a sign—”

An arm is thrown over your shoulder and you’re being kept close to Jaehyun, who had come in just in time with the popcorn. “Yeah, I’m assuming that that reason would be to tell you that Y/N’s off the market and will be for a long time. Exes are exes for a reason. And a sign? This must be a sign to tell you to back off.”

“You’re together? The two of you?” Taehyung scoffs.

“Yes, and?” Jaehyun quirks an eyebrow. “Anyways, it was nice seeing you Taehyung.”

“I—”

“And I hope this will be the last time too.” Jaehyun smiles, before looking at you. “When did you say your parents were going to arrive, again?”

You chuckle, watching Taehyung walk away with defeat. “They’ll be here soon. I’m sure they can’t wait to see you.”

“There they are!”

Coincidentally, your parents arrive and rush over. Your mother combs out her hair with her fingers and lets out a sigh of relief. “I thought we were late.”

“Nothing to worry about, in fact, you came just in time.” You laugh, looking up at Jaehyun. “Actually, there’s someone I want to introduce to you.”

“Who? Jaehyun?” Your father asks before chuckling. “Silly you, we know who he is—”

Jaehyun extends his hand out to them. “Hi, I’m Jaehyun, Y/N’s boyfriend.”

“But—wait, what?”

And funny as it is, the two of you have a lot of explaining to do.

Baby steps.

author’s note. merry christmas everyone! hope you’ve been staying safe and healthy! take care always and please feel free to send me feedback! it’ll be very much appreciated! i hope you enjoyed this christmas fic!

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theshopislocal · 4 years ago

Text

Humid and warm, the air in Kihei hangs thick.

Dean had spent his first twelve or so hours on the island coaxing his lungs to take in the briny air, sweating through the pits of his knockoff Tommy Bahama shirt, and subtly trying to smooth his poofy hair. Eventually, he’d given up and just peered out the window, eyes roving over the billowing fog in the valleys between the mountains.

Unlike nearly every other trip Dean’s been on, this one was planned to the nines. The rental car (a freaking Prius that Dean keeps forgetting is even on, it runs so damn quiet), the Hawaiian print vacation wardrobe (a wedding gift from Bobby, of all people), the private villa (courtesy of Charlie, though Dean still isn’t sure if she digitally finagled a lease or if she somehow owns the place), and a fifteen page color-coded itinerary - written, printed, and laminated by Sam.

Dean peels one eye open and casts it over the sprawling master suite. They’d arrived two days ago, but the luggage sits by the armoire still packed, the itinerary unopened on the low coffee table.

Dean smirks down at the sheets, sweat-damp and tangled near his feet, then swings his legs over the side of the bed. He hoists himself upright - ankles cracking, knees creaking - and his spine gives a resounding pop. He’s sore in some unusual places, and there are clusters of light bruises low on his thighs. He huffs an off-color laugh under his breath.

Movement in his peripheral vision has Dean looking over his shoulder toward the lanai.

The view through the open French doors is something else. A vast endless ocean, translucent blue and rippling, flanked by curving palm trees and golden-white sand. The clouds hang low, nearly crashing into the water.

And right in the center, barely twenty feet from where Dean stands, is a wide teak bench - with a dark, tousled head peaking over it.

Dean’s face cracks in a crooked smile.

He staggers toward the veranda, pausing to step into a pair of boxers that he’s pretty sure are his, and lumbers barefoot onto the stone tile under the awning.

He steps around the bench and lowers himself gingerly onto the seat. A familiar ache climbs from the backs of his thighs to the small of his back, and he smiles at the low burn.

He glances over at Cas. He’s wearing a white undershirt (Dean’s) and blue plaid boxers, hirsute legs crossed at the ankles. His skin is dewy in the damp air, arms goosebumped (though it’s 70-something degrees), and a dusting of stubble crawls over his sharp jawline. His hair is a riot, pillow-flattened at the back and wild everywhere else.

He looks—

Dean chews his lip and follows Cas’ gaze out over the water. There’s a seabird flying lazy figure eights a ways out.

Dean clears his throat and swallows. “So.”

“So,” Cas grumbles back.

One corner of Dean’s mouth ticks up, and he bumps his shoulder briefly against Cas’. “Man,” he huffs out and tips his head toward the bedroom. “We coulda been doin’ that for...” he trails off and shakes his head, pressing his back against the bench. There’s a sore spot just under his shoulder blade, and he wonders if there’s a bruise there, too.

Cas hums and tilts his head. “Ten years, give or take.”

Dean’s brow drops low, head turning sharply toward Cas. “Ten years,” he repeats, bemused.

Cas hums again, head craning back to follow the seagull’s steep climb upward. “Closer to twelve, maybe.”

Dean blinks several times in succession.

Twelve years.

Twelve years?

No. No, that’s not right. Dean couldn’t have had Cas twelve years ago. Twelve years ago, Dean was young and stupid, blind to everything but the never-ending search for revenge, mired in a pit of tar-black self-loathing, salty and embittered, lonesome and angry—

Dean swallows around a sudden lump in his throat. “We barely knew each other,” he grunts out.

Cas sighs a soft laugh and turns toward Dean. He’s got that look he gets sometimes - all soft-lipped forbearance and bag-eyed empathy. And there’s something else, too. Something in the pink rims of his eyelids, the straight line of his brow - something bittersweet and aching like—

Cas turns back toward the sea, head tilting just so. “Did you know,” he murmurs, “the first garrison sent to collect you from the Pit—” he shakes his head, “—failed.”

Dean frowns, eying Cas’ stark profile against the ice-blue sky. “Oh?”

Cas hums and gives a slow nod, eyes seeking out the little bird again, gone back now to its idle circling. “They couldn’t find you,” he intones. “Hell is...” he pauses, and his shoulders twitch in a little shrug, “... expansive.”

Dean nods. He’d spent forty years there, after all - not counting the various forays afterwards. Every time he’d returned, there’d been a moment of paralyzing fear - a desperate clench somewhere in his chest, as he wondered if he’d make it out this time.

Dean shakes his head, shoulders going stiff. “So how’d you find me?” he grumbles.

Cas is silent for a beat, and Dean peers up at him. His face has gone soft, mouth curving around a tiny smile. “I saw you the moment I arrived,” he murmurs.

Dean stares at him, noting the faraway tone and the loose shoulders, the new laugh-line etching itself at the corner of Cas’ mouth.

He replays the words in his head and gives a dry snort. “What was I, right next to your dropsite?”

Cas’ lips pull back, smile going wide and gummy. “No,” he demurs. “No, you were...” he squints, considering, “... twenty, maybe thirty thousand miles away.”

Dean feels his jaw go slack, eyebrows climbing toward his forehead. He remembers Sammy’s dorky astronomy phase when they were kids, how he’d inundated Dean with silly Snapple-cap facts - like the precise length of an astronomical unit, or the eight thousand mile diameter of the earth.

Twenty, maybe thirty thousand miles away.

Dean’s eyelids flutter, head shaking in a recursive twitch. His mouth has gone dry, tongue sticking to the backs of his teeth as he grunts out, “Thirty- thousand miles.”

Cas tips his head side to side. “Thereabouts, yes.”

Dean stares at him, eyes wide and unblinking. His jaw works soundlessly for a moment before he scrubs a weathered hand over his face, breathing a startled laugh. “How?”

Cas gives a bemused hum and tilts his head toward Dean, though his eyes still chase the little seagull.

Dean shakes his head. “How could you see me?”

Cas’ eyes cut over to Dean’s, slitted against the morning sun. They flick over Dean’s face like Cas is categorizing him, committing him to memory, and Dean feels his brow sink in a frown.

A tiny smile pulls at the corner of Cas’ mouth. His eyes go soft in that way they do when he’s about to say something too frank, too forthright, too—

“You were a beacon.”

Dean’s eyes fall shut, and a sigh gusts out of him, emptying his lungs.

Stupid, really; it’s not like he doesn’t know how Cas feels. He’d known it when Cas had first said the words - bloodied and weeping, walking the plank. He’d known it when Cas had returned from the Void - pale and thin, with fragile bones and sunken eyes. He’d known it five days ago, when Cas had murmured I do, and Dean, wet-eyed, had grunted it back.

And yet.

“I was confused,” Cas says, cutting through Dean’s wayward thoughts. “I didn’t understand why my brethren couldn’t see you.” He breathes out a soft sigh, eyes distant and a little awestruck. “You shone like a star.”

Dean’s jaw goes taut, molars grinding together. He peers down at his feet and digs his toe into a hairline crack in the stone tile. He isn’t a star. Most days, he’s barely even sure he’s a man, so much as a hapless slew of endless mistakes, hands gnarled and spine bowing under the weight.

He doesn’t argue, though - can’t argue; it’s one of the vows Cas had pulled from him as they’d stood together in the graffitied barn where they’d met: Promise me, Cas had whispered, promise me you’ll let me.

There’s a soft pressure at Dean’s side - Cas nudging him with his shoulder - and Dean looks up.

Cas’ eyes shine a bright Carolina blue, his chapped lips curved in a bittersweet smile. “I found you,” he says, “the same way that...” he shakes his head, casting his eyes toward the ground, “... a sailor finds a lighthouse.”

Something swells in Dean’s chest, pressing against the inside of his rib cage, and there’s a sharp sting behind his eyes.

Cas glances back up at him, and his eyebrows arch toward the center of his forehead as he says, “You were all I could see.”

The tension across Dean’s shoulders breaks - sudden and startling - and he hunches forward, blowing out a sigh. His vision is hazy at the edges, wetness clumping his eyelashes together.

Twelve years.

Dean’s mouth moves before his brain does. “Even—” Dean bites his tongue, incisors digging into the tip, then shakes his head. He’s already come this far - so far, actually, now that he’s thinking about it. “Even then?” he intones. “Even back then, you...?”

The question hangs, floating on the salted air, and a cumulus cloud crawls over the sun. The light bends and shifts.

Cas smiles down at his feet then peers out over the water. “Yes,” he says plainly. “Even then.”

Dean blows out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and follows Cas’ eyes to the sea. There’s something fluttering in Dean’s throat, pressing at the backs of his teeth, waiting to slip out. Dean holds the tiny words on his tongue, tasting them on every inhale.

The clouds part above, a shaft of yellow light cutting through the mist, and a gust of wind sends the little seabird soaring, up and up and up—

#deancas honeymoon #destiel #fanfiction #tfw u think it’ll be like 200 words #lol keep dreaming #concrit welcome

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years ago

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Paging Healer Malfoy // Chapter Five - Past Hauntings (D.M.)

A/N: CHAPTER FIVE!! Dates and drama, what more could you ask for? I actually wrote most of this before I even started to write Chapter Four, I was that excited for one bit! I hope you all like! All my medical knowledge comes from ER, so if there’s anything wrong, I apologise!

Summary: Draco has finally asked (Y/N) out, but will their date run smoothly?

Warnings: I made up a jinx, mentions of injuries, brief descriptions of procedures, strong reader, fluff, swearing, mean old men, mentions of food, kissing - IT ENDS WITH A BUTTLOAD OF FLUFF.

Word count: 4.2k

Prologue // Chapter One // Chapter Two // Chapter Three // Chapter Four

Draco lands on (Y/N)’s doorstep half an hour before their reservation at a bistro recommended to him by Dean.

He releases a shaky breath before knocking twice on her front door. Draco had only been to her home three or four times through the length of their friendship; (Y/N) much preferred to relax at his place and at his, she was closer to the hospital should she be called for anything.

Calming his heart, Draco fiddles with the cuff of his white shirt; ensuring that just enough poked out from underneath the black suit jacket he had chosen to wear.

It takes another knock at her door for (Y/N) to answer; she wrenches the door open with an apologetic smile, “I’m so sorry, Draco, I’m almost ready. I just need to find my shoes, jacket and bag and we can go.”

“Don’t apologise,” He laughs; his nerves abating somewhat, “You were dancing weren’t you?”

(Y/N) flushes, “How did you know?”

Draco points above him; to her bedroom where he can hear the well-known sounds of ABBA playing, “You love ABBA, it makes sense you would dance.”

She rolls her eyes, “Alright Sherlock, I was dancing to ABBA and I lost track of time, is that better?”

Draco laughs, nodding, “Much better.”

She smiles, “Good. Let me go grab the rest of my things and we can go.”

Draco doesn’t verbalise his response; he simply nods at her, watching her walk away, admiring her outfit. (Y/N) wears figure hugging tailored trousers; tapered so they’re tighter at the hems. His eyes rake over her body as she climbs the stairs to her room; he chides himself for not acting like a gentlemen but the stirring desire in his veins tells him not to bother.

(Y/N) rushes back down the stairs; almost tripping on the last step as she bounces around, trying to slip her foot into her heel. Draco lurches forward; reaching for her just as she topples forward. He can’t help the laugh that leaves his mouth, “Are you okay?”

She stands with a huff; hoisting her bag on her shoulder having put her jacket on upstairs, “I’m fine. Shall we get going?”

Draco smirks; holding out his arm for her to take, “As you wish, Dancing Queen.”

-------

Draco had booked a table at a small bistro; nothing overly fancy, but still cosy enough to retain the romantic atmosphere he hopes will continue throughout the date.

It’s not an overly large restaurant; fifteen or so tables all covered with red and white gingham cloth. A small kitchen resides in the back of the bistro; the scent of Mediterranean herbs making Draco’s stomach rumble as he and (Y/N) are led to their table.

“How did you find this place?” She asks, sliding into her chair, shucking off her jacket.

“Dean recommended it to me.”

(Y/N) smiles, “I was gonna say. This doesn’t have ‘Malfoy’ written all over it.”

He raises an eyebrow, “And what does?”

She taps a finger to her chin; deliberating with a small smile, “Michelin Stars, for starters. Huge plates with tiny portions of food, and expensive wine lists.”

Draco holds his hands up in surrender, “You’re right. However, my father is the sommelier of the family, I simply drink the stuff.”

(Y/N) snorts, “Is Draco Malfoy a rebel?”

He blushes at her teasing tone; glancing back down to the menu in his hands. A satisfied smile spreads across (Y/N)’s face at the sight of leaving Draco speechless; he so often had comebacks ready. It was a treat to see him so affected by her.

She peers down at the menu, “What are you thinking?”

“Is it completely stereotypical of me to go for the steak?” Draco ponders.

She shakes her head, laughing, “I may have been thinking the same thing.”

They hand their menus over to the waiter; giving their orders and choosing not to drink. Instead, they stick to water. Work tomorrow would be easier if they didn’t have a hangover to deal with as well.

“How long are you on tomorrow?” Draco asks.

(Y/N) shakes her head, “Let’s not talk about work.”

“I can do that,” He comments, “What would you like to talk about?”

She raises an eyebrow, “How did you know I was listening to ABBA? I thought you didn’t care much for muggle music.”

Draco flushes, “I don’t care for a lot of muggle music.”

“But you like ABBA?”

Draco nods; trying not to roll his eyes, “I like ABBA.”

(Y/N) laughs; clapping her hands together in delight, “That is my new favourite thing about you, Draco.”

“Oh?” He smirks, “What was it before?”

(Y/N) flushes as she averts her eyes; glancing around the room, “Truthfully?”

“Now you have me worried…”

She shoots him a glare, “I won’t tell if you’re going to be an arse.”

Draco holds one hand up in surrender; the other crosses over his heart, “I promise I won’t be an arse tonight.”

(Y/N) smiles shyly, “Your eyes.”

“My eyes?”

(Y/N) nods; the flush spreading to her neck as she bites her lip. The specific knowledge settles in Draco; making its home in his heart.

She recovers quickly, “What about you?”

“What about me?” Draco counters; knowing exactly where she’s going with this.

“What’s your favourite thing about me?”

Draco shuffles in his seat; butterflies running riot in his stomach. He reaches for his glass of water; wetting his mouth before speaking, “I don’t have a specific thing.”

(Y/N) visibly deflates; disappointed at his words, “You don’t?”

Draco nods; deciding honesty to be the best policy, “My favourite thing about you is all of you.”

“Oh…” (Y/N) whispers; a mesmerising smile breaking over her face and leaving him breathless. She opens her mouth to say more; to say what she feels in this moment, but as the words start to form on the tip of her tongue she’s interrupted by the arrival of their food.

With practiced flourish, the waiter places their food in front of them. The smell and sight making Draco’s mouth water. He digs in after sending a broad smile over to (Y/N) who watches Draco with bright eyes and a large smile herself.

Conversation is little as they eat; the both of them practiced in the art of needing to eat and rushing off to the next patient.

They get halfway through their main courses when Draco’s pager sounds. He looks at (Y/N) apologetically, “I thought I had turned it off. I told the hospital that I was off for the night, not be called in at any time.”

(Y/N) moves to answer, but she is interrupted by her own pager sounding in her bag. She glances at Draco sheepishly; the apology glimmering in her eyes as she reaches for it. Her expression changes as she reads over the number on the screen; Draco feels so concerned he can’t help but reach for his own pager to read what’s on the screen.

It takes them less than five minutes to pay the bill and rush from the restaurant; hurrying into a side alley to apparate to the emergency room.

They’re greeted by Vera; she looks them up and down, “Did you drink?”

Draco and (Y/N) shake their heads, “We’re both on tomorrow; we stuck to water.”

Vera thrusts trauma gowns at them, “Good. We need you sharp.”

Draco’s senses hone in; attention becoming laser sharp and focused. The shift in him is visible all to watching him; the relaxed posture dropping away to make room for the attending. He looks to Vera as he slides on goggles, “What do we have coming in?”

“Large raid on one of the last death eater hang outs. A battle broke out; everyone injured is coming our way,” Vera shakes her head, “It’s even being reported on muggle news; that’s how bad things got.”

“ETA?”

“Less than two minutes.”

Draco exhales, “Where are the trainees?”

“Behind you Healer Malfoy,” Matthew Kinghorn’s voice calls out.

He turns to find all four already gowned and gloved, ready and waiting. He meets the eyes of each one, “This will be your first large trauma, am I correct?” At their nods, he continues, “Okay. Split off to your attendings; do not get in the way. Help when you can but do not overcrowd. Kinghorn, I want you with me.”

Matthew startles; already heading towards his attending. Draco shakes his head; waiting for the other trainees to file away, “I want to see how you handle a trauma situation after I saw you with our impalement. We don’t exactly know what’s coming in but stay alert. If you think you’re going to be sick, leave the room. Do you understand?”

Matthew nods; remaining silent, following Draco as the first of the injured roll up.

From there, it’s close to a blood bath. St. Mungo’s is the only wizarding hospital in the entire country; supposedly equipped to handle such traumas. However, when the patients are from two groups with such differing ideals, keeping them separated is difficult.

In his head, Draco plans to make another appeal to the Minster for Magic; wondering if Hermione could help him persuade the powers that be for another hospital.

Piercing screams distract Draco from his plans to expand the hospital. With Matthew close behind, Draco rushes towards the sound. Being wheeled in by medics is a young Auror; barely out of his twenties or so Draco assumes – his face and body have been burnt so badly by a jinx that it makes it difficult for Draco to age the patient but also for the patient to offer anything but his screams.

The moment they enter the trauma room, Draco administers a pain potion. In cases like this, the survival rate was low. The most that could be done is to offer as much comfort to the patient as possible.

Draco looks over to Matthew, “How are you feeling, Kinghorn?”

Matthew’s gaze finally meets Draco; his skin looking rather green, “I’ve never seen something so bad.”

“Cases like this are rare, but they do happen. Now, the patient isn’t getting enough oxygen with the mask, what do we need to do?”

Matthew flounders; Draco adjusts the mask on the patient’s face, repeating his words, “What do we need to do, Matthew?”

The use of his first name snaps his out of whatever stupor, “Intubate. He needs to be intubated.”

“Have you seen one done?”

Matthew nods, “Healer (Y/L/N) showed me last week.”

“Good. You know what they say, ‘see one, do one, teach one’. Get over here, Matthew,” Draco leans over the patient, “Sir, we’re going to have to put a tube in your throat to help you breath.”

The patient nods; a tear falling down his face as he realises the likelihood of him coming off the vent is low. At the patient’s nod, Draco administers a sedative – to help the patient and Matthew through this. Draco looks to Matthew; nodding his head slightly for him to begin the procedure.

Matthew bounces to life; rushing to the head of the patient. Draco hands him the scope and tube needed for the procedure; speaking him through it as Matthew visualises the cords, slipping the tube down the patient’s throat – aiming for the lungs and not the stomach.

(Y/N) joins Draco as Matthew finishes intubating the patient; the need for muggle medicine a priority when the jinxes and curses were so bad there was little chance of recovery. This particular patient had been hit with the extensive burn jinx – a nasty jinx that isn’t seen too often as it causes third degree burns across 80% of the body; spreading across the body like a wildfire, giving the witch or wizard hit a low chance of survival.

“How did you find our first date?” Draco asks as (Y/N) begins to debride the burns; giving the patient some chance of relief.

(Y/N) smiles at him from over the trauma, “It’s like you knew exactly what I wanted.”

Draco can’t help the laugh that escapes him; quickly regaining his professionalism, however and apologising to the patient even though he is sedated. He looks back to her, “Can you handle it from here?”

She nods; eyes flickering the trauma room behind, “I’ve got it. I’ll find you when I’m done.”

Draco grins at her; pulling off his gloves and gown before rushing into the next trauma. The patient is agitated; shouting and screaming at the nurses, leaving Jude Prewett scared but firm as she talks him down.

The Auror only gets angrier at the sight of Draco; hollering for the whole floor to hear, “I won’t have you treat me! I demand another Healer. Get me another Healer.”

“Healer Malfoy is the best Healer we have,” Jude reassures; eyes flickering between the patient and Draco.

The patient shakes his head; adamant, “I won’t have a Death Eater treat me. He’ll kill me just as he would look at me.”

Draco wants to shout; wants to get in the patient’s face and list all the ways he’s repented since he was a scared and vulnerable sixteen year old, doing what he thought was right for his family.

He doesn’t though; he sighs sadly, stepping back from the patient, “I understand sir, I’ll go fetch another Healer,” He looks to Jude, “Are you okay for a few more minutes while I go get Healer (Y/L/N)?”

Jude nods; eyes sad from Draco’s quick dismissal. As Draco returns to trauma room one, he hears Jude say, “I hope you know you just insulted one of the best Healers we have.”

(Y/N) looks up as Draco re-enters, “What’s wrong?”

Draco shakes his head; hating the lump that has formed in his throat, “Do you mind treating next door?”

She nods down to the patient she is currently working on, “I’m busy here. Why can’t you do it?”

“He doesn’t want to be treated by me. Wants another Healer.”

“Why?” She demands; voice angry, eyes angrier as they glance into the room behind Draco.

“We’ll talk about it later. Will you please treat him? I can take over here.”

(Y/N) looks like she very much wants to argue with him, but she decides against it. She nods quietly; handing Draco her scalpel before disrobing, “What’s his name?” She asks, referring to the patient.

Draco shrugs; focusing his attention on the burn victim, “We didn’t get that far.”

-----

(Y/N) liked to believe that she was patient; she knew when she began her training as a Healer that she would need to learn the art of patience and fast for there are some patients who have a list of medical complaints a mile long.

However, she did not have any patience for the narrow-minded Auror ranting before her.

“I can’t believe a place like this would hire him.”

“Hire who?” She asks; daring him to say it.

“Him,” He spits; jutting his chin to next door when (Y/N) knows Draco works diligently over another Auror who may only have hours to live due to the extensiveness of their burns.

“That man you’re spitting about happens to be working on your colleague.”

The Auror rolls his eyes, “My colleague wouldn’t be in his mess if it wasn’t for families like his. I knew who he was the moment he walked in the room; Lucius Malfoy’s brat.”

(Y/N) grits her teeth; continuing to stitch up the man’s arm; refusing to rise to his vitriol. He takes her silence as permission to continue, “I’m surprised we didn’t find his father there. We certainly found a lot of his friends; hiding together like rats, plotting their next uprising as if the last one worked. Who are they going to worship now? The Dark Lord is gone.”

“And yet,” (Y/N) breathes, “You cannot say his name without being scared.”

The Auror glares at her; not happy to have his courage questioned. He remains silent through the rest of his treatment; seething at her words, knowing that she called him on his bullshit.

(Y/N) removes her gloves, standing from her chair, “I would say that it’s been a pleasure to heal you given that you’re an Auror, but it hasn’t. I will be contacting your superior for the abuse you’ve shown my colleague – who, for your information, has nothing to repent for. I understand questioning the adults that followed Lord Voldemort, but you do not get to question the children who were innocent bystanders in a game they didn’t understand.”

The Auror laughs menacingly, “Speak to my superior, see if I care.”

(Y/N) grins, “I will. You’ve ballsed up big time – want to know why?”

The Auror remains quiet so (Y/N) tells him anyway, nodding towards Draco, “Your boss is one of his best friends.”

The colour fades from the Auror’s face and (Y/N) admits to herself that she rather enjoyed telling him what’s what. Patience is something that (Y/N) is still learning; even almost ten years into her career, but what she will not stand for in any form, is bullying.

----

Draco takes a moment of leave from the burn patient when his family arrive in floods of tears; asking about statistics and whether he was positive that nothing could be done.

He doesn’t see the commotion, but he hears it; her voice travels down the hall, easily leading Draco to her. He finds her gesturing wildly to an unprepared Harry Potter.

Harry catches his eye; pleading silently for help. Draco makes his way to her side; placing his hand on the small of her back, “What’s happening here?”

“I was just tell Harry about that lovely patient we have

“Auror Flintlock?” Draco asks; taking the chart from (Y/N)’s hands.

Her hands settle on her hips, “Potter, you have to do something about him. He was wildly inappropriate towards Draco.”

Draco sighs, “Patients can refuse to be treated by certain Healers, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) purses her lips; her attention still fixed on Harry, “I want to see him at least written up and giving an official warning for how he continued to speak after Draco left the room.”

Harry nods, “He’ll be written up, (Y/N). He’s been skating on thin ice for a while.”

(Y/N) folds her arms; a victorious look on her face, “Thank you, Potter.”

Harry smiles; nodding at them both, not missing their closeness. He makes a mental note to mention it to Draco the next time they go drinking. Harry looks towards trauma one, “How’s he doing?”

Draco pats Harry’s shoulder, “80% thickness burns to most of his body. It was a nasty jinx, Harry.”

“How long does he have?”

“Hours,” Draco states plainly, “His family is with him now.”

Harry nods; silver lining his eyes, sighing, “Good. They should be. He’s been on the force less than a year.”

With little else to say, Harry leaves Draco and (Y/N) – fulfilling his duty as an Auror; going to comfort the family of one of their own.

Draco and (Y/N) retreat to the break room; never officially being on in the first place. Like always, the ancient television set only displays the muggle news in a hushed volume; the red banner skirting across the bottom of the screen announcing an unexplained explosion on the outskirts of London. The news anchor repeats how lucky it was that no-one was hurt. Draco represses the urge to roll his eyes; muggles weren’t hurt, that’s correct and he’s thankful for that, but his emergency room is filled with Aurors and Death Eaters alike – all injured and vulnerable because of what happened tonight.

Draco settles at the round table in the middle of the room; sighing in relief at getting off his feet for a little bit. (Y/N) sits next to him; her hand reaching for his across the table. An act of affection so naturally displayed that it sends Draco’s heart rate through the roof.

He regrets the fact that their date had been cut short, but with any luck, (Y/N) wouldn’t mind a repeat. He thinks to their brief conversation in the bistro and for a second, he wonders whether she would protest much to his version of wining and dining. Reservations needing to be made weeks in advance; wine lists four pages long – each bottle with multiple zeroes behind the name. He realises he would like to show her the world in which he grew up; the fancy dinners and balls, but he also accepts that he would be happy in any world as long as he’s with her.

“Are you staying with him?” (Y/N) asks; concern in her eyes.

Draco nods, “I’ll stay with him through this. Matthew will need me to help pronounce.”

(Y/N) nods, “I’ll stay with you too.”

He reaches for her hand, “Thank you.”

She squeezes once, shrugging, “One thing’s for certain, you’re not a boring date, Draco.”

“It’s about to get even more wild,” Draco drawls.

“Oh? How’s that?”

Draco points to the pile of unfinished paperwork near his locker, “We have all that to work through.”

(Y/N) fans herself, “Slow down, Romeo. Paperwork is a second date kind of thing isn’t it?”

Draco laughs loudly, “So you see a second date?”

(Y/N) beams at him; pulling a pen from her bag, “I see a second date.”

------

Two hours later, Matthew interrupts their squabble about news anchor’s to say that the young Auror’s oxygen levels have dropped. Draco stands; knowing it won’t be long now.

It isn’t. Less than ten minutes after entering the room, Draco helps Matthew pronounce the young Auror; explaining the death kit and how the nurses do it.

(Y/N) looks up when Draco re-enters the break room; the question written over her face. Draco nods; silently confirming her suspicions.

They apparate back to his place; neither of them hungry after such an extensive trauma. (Y/N) throws herself on the couch; groaning at the softness, “You know, this is the comfiest couch I have ever sat on.”

Draco laughs; picking up her legs and settling them over his as he sits down next to her, “Are you just saying that because you wore heels all night?”

(Y/N) frowns down at her bare feet; having kicked off the offending footwear the moment she landed in Draco’s flat, “That could be part of it.”

“I knew it!” Draco declares with a broad smile, “You only agreed to the date so you could lay on my couch more.”

(Y/N) stretches her limbs out, “Can you blame me? This couch is a gift from Merlin himself.”

Silence falls between the two of them; it’s not awkward – far from it. It’s the kind of silence where they both know they’re thinking over the night’s events and remembering the young Auror who passed less than two hour ago.

“You didn’t have to do that earlier, you know,” Draco whispers.

(Y/N) sits up the couch; swinging her legs around. She cuddles up to Draco, “Yeah, I did. I saw your face in there, I had to do something.”

Draco shakes his head, “It wasn’t the first time; it won’t be the last either.”

“What do you mean it wasn’t the first time?”

“I mean that it wasn’t the first time a patient has refused to be treated by me,” He sighs; heart heavy as he thinks of the early days of his career when the mark on his arm was as dark as the day it had been seared into his skin, “There are still those who have not forgiven my family for their involvement in both wizarding wars.”

(Y/N) frowns; staring up at him, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Draco shrugs, “Truthfully, it hadn’t happened in a while. Auror Flintlock was the first patient in almost a year to refuse my treatment.”

“You still should have told me.”

“I know,” He admits, “Will you forgive me?”

She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, “I don’t know,” She starts, “What’s in it for me?”

Draco chuckles; leaning in to her, “What would you like?”

(Y/N) takes it upon herself to connect their lips. She brushes her lips against Draco’s softly; to gauge his reaction. Draco gasps gently as the touch; unexpected but definitely not unwelcome. She pulls away; a hairsbreadth away from him, but he surges forward, reconnecting their lips in a kiss that screams pent up emotion and long-lasting love.

She lets him take control of the kiss; surrendering herself to his mouth and wandering hands as he presses her further into the couch.

They’re a mess of hands, lips, and tongue. Her hands work on the white button down he wears; unfastening the buttons and pushing it from his shoulders before running her hands down the flat expanse of his stomach.

Draco shudders at her touch; briefly wondering if whether this is what it feels like to internally combust. He’s dreamt of this for long so; sometimes waking up in the middle of the night with the taste of her in his mouth and desire lighting up his veins.

Her hands continue wander as he slows down the kiss; slowing their pace so they move together languidly. He doesn’t want to rush a thing; he wants to feel every inch of her set him on fire.

Breaking the kiss, Draco pulls her from the couch. She throws him a puzzled look as he leads her into his bedroom. Draco gives her a questioning look; searching her eyes for permission, making sure she hasn’t changed her mind since the couch. With a small smile, (Y/N) tugs Draco towards her by grabbing his belt.

He connects their lips once more, kicking the bedroom door shut behind him.

**********

Paging Healer Malfoy taglist: @sycathorn-slush @obsessedwithrandomthings @kpopgirlbtssvt @kalimagik @brycelahelalover @fallinallinmendes @mischi3f-manag3d @remmysrecs @willowbleedsonpaper @nao-cchi @haphazardhufflepuff @soundsquid27 @mytreec @maydillydally @chaoticgirl04 @pregnant-piggy @rhyxn @acciotwinz @birdie-writes @reaganwonders @chanelwonders @izzytheninja @ravenclawbitch426 @ohissandhalasta @missmulti @nebulablakemurphy @pointlesscoconut @cherrylita @harpersmariano @slytherinlovesgryffindor @falconfeather23435 @namoreno @johannalauraaa

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @obxmxybxnk @obx-beach @sycathorn-slush @dracomalfoyswifey @kashishwrites @justmesadgirl @detroitobsessed @reaganwonders @sophia-gwendolyn @ravenclawbitch426

***if your username is in bold, I was unable to tag you.

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achillestiel · 4 years ago

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the parent trap only works if you’re identical | part four

Tag List: @littlerachelbee @imthedoctorlove @deancas-handprint @castiel-loves-dean @wanderermatthews @thelahatiel @priscillahc @mridzyp @multi-fandom-dark-lord @thefantasyfiend @harmonyhelms @imlivingliferightnow @kara-merlin @still-clowning-in-this-house @never-forever-more @continuezmesfilserrants @2musiclover2 @castiels-bitch

Ok Winchester, you can do this. Just be cool, calm and collected. Dean said to himself as he drove towards Foxhall Village, the area that Cas and Jack lived in. Jack had fallen fast asleep about an hour before and every now and then Dean would glance over, marvelling at how much Jack looked like Sammy when he slept. They would both zonk out instantly, mouth slightly open without a care in the world. As much as Dean missed Claire, because that pint sized tearaway was his whole damn world, he couldn’t help but wish that he’d been able to get to know Jack more.

"Hey kid we're here." Dean said as they drove up the street Cas now lived on. "Nice place, what's your dad doing now here in DC?"

"Oh, he's the head of the council of economic advisers." Jack said. "Which sounds cool but it just means he talks about economic policy a lot. It’s cool when he goes to the White House, last time he stole a pen for me. Don’t tell anyone because I’m not sure if that illegal or not."

Dean just sat there for a moment because of course Cas now had a great job within the government. When they'd first met Dean had made endless jokes about how Cas would be president one day. Cas had always rolled his eyes but smiled whenever Dean jokingly called him Mr President.

"What's wrong?" Jack asked.

"Nothing kid, come on. Let's get you back to your dad. No doubt Claire has driven him insane by now so getting her back will be easy." Dean said, getting out the car when all he wanted to do was clamber back into the impala and hightail it back to Kansas. Yes, he was being a coward but the idea of seeing Cas after all this time was doing things to his brain.

"Doubt it, he's put up with Uncle Gabriel for all these years." Jack said.

"Yeah, I remember your uncle alright. Ruined our damn couch." Dean muttered darkly.

"That doesn't surprise me." Jack said as the pair walked up the driveway towards a large Tudor style house. Huh working in government definitely pays well Dean thought. Swallowing down his fear, Dean rang the doorbell. He prayed to whoever was up there that he didn't throw up on the tasteful doormat. The door opened and Dean braced himself to see Cas. Instead, he came face to face with-

"Uncle Gabriel!" Jack said happily. Dean suppressed a groan as he looked down at the short, cheerful-looking man. How was it possible that Gabriel looked almost exactly the same after twelve goddamn years?

"Well if it isn't my favourite nephew." Gabriel said happily as he pulled Jack in for a hug. "And you brought Winchester! Never brought he'd leave Kansas. Is your brother still an Adonis of a man?"

"Was he ever?" Dean asked as he held out his hand for Gabriel to shake. Sure the guy might have wreaked Dean's brand new couch fourteen years prior but he was trying to be polite.

"Oh he was and I let him know all the time. Shame he was so happy with Eileen." Gabriel said, looking wistfully as he shook Dean's hand.

"Yeah well...not that it isn't nice to see you again Gabriel but I kind of need to grab my daughter." Dean said. Maybe he could do this whole thing without having to even see Cas. Part of him was relieved but that idea and the other part of him was just a swirl of emotions.

"Of course, follow me to the kitchen." Gabriel said, stepping back inside the house and motioning for Dean to follow him. Dean obliged, looking around the pristine hallway for any sign of Cas. Jack was hot on their heels as they walked into the kitchen. Dean stopped and just glared at the sight in front of him.

Claire, wearing one of Dean's flannel shirts that was definitely three sizes too big for her, was cheerfully stirring the contents of a large saucepan. Loudly humming along to a song on the radio, which after a second Dean placed as Queen. When Dean coughed loudly she looked up and grinned.

"Dad! Come on in, we're making chilli for dinner." Claire said, looking far too happy for her own good. "Jack, grab some chips and gauc out the fridge."

"We?" Dean asked while Jack sauntered past him towards the huge sub zero refrigerator.

"Hello Dean." And damn if that didn't make Dean want to sprint out the house. He braced himself and looked over to where Cas was standing. All the breath in Dean’s body left him as his eyes fell onto Cas. He looked almost exactly the same apart from a few wrinkles around the startlingly blue eyes that Dean had always adored. His hair was still a complete mess and...son of a bitch, he was even wearing the blue sweater Dean had brought him for Christmas fifteen years prior. Seriously, was he doing this on purpose?

“Um...hey Cas...long time.” Dean managed to stammer out.

“Dork.” He heard Claire mutter under her breath.

“Hey.” Dean said, rounding on Claire. “You got any idea how much trouble you’re in of this little stunt? This ain’t gonna be like the time you blew up the shed, you’re gonna be grounded until the day you graduate high school. Maybe even college.” Dean said.

“You blew up a shed?” Cas, Gabriel and Jack all asked, staring at Claire mix of horror (Cas) and awe (Jack and Gabriel).

“Ok, I didn’t blow up the shed. I started a small fire in the shed by accident.” Claire retorted. Dean and Cas both groaned as Jack walked over to give Claire a high five.

“I really love this kid.” Gabriel announced.

“Oh Jesus.” Dean muttered at the same as Cas. They both glanced at one another for a moment before Dean turned his attention back to Claire. “You. Car. Now.”

I should have stayed hiding upstairs. Cas thought as he stared, yes he was staring, at Dean. How was it possible that Dean looked even better after twelve years? Dean in his early twenties had been a sight to behold but Dean in his late thirties was a thing of beauty. His boyish good looks had turned into handsome roguishness.

“Dad, I can’t leave yet. We’ve just laid the table.” Claire said to Dean.

"We thought you'd be hungry after driving all day so Claire and I made dinner." Cas said. In reality Gabriel had dragged him into the kitchen wherein he’d found Claire already making chilli. Cas wasn’t going to tell Dean that.

"That's a nice thought but-"

"Dad, I know all you've eaten today was gas store jerky.” Claire said, rolling her eyes. “Am I right?” she asked Jack who just nodded. “See? Now wash your hands, sit down and eat this damn chilli because I’m Aunt Eileen’s recipe and I know that’s your favourite.” Claire said, pointing a chilli covered wooden spoon at Dean. Cas simply could not fight the smile that spread across his face when he saw Dean’s terrified expression.

“Fine, just chill out. God you sound like Ellen when you do that.” Dean said, going over the sink to wash his hands before grabbing a seat and sitting down. Cas rolled his eyes, not even realising he was doing it until Dean looked over and glared. Dean was nearly forty and he was pouting like a small child.

“Well while you all enjoy this little family reunion I’m going to grab some wine...maybe a enough for a vineyard.” Gabriel said as he sauntered out the room.

“Does Gabriel live here?” Dean asked Jack.

“No, he was getting his condo renovated so he stayed here for a while. He’s back home now.”

“Longest eight weeks of my entire life.” Cas said quietly. “Jack, can you help Claire dish up?”

“Sure thing, let me run my bags upstairs and I’ll be right back.” Jack said.

“Oh I’ll help you!” Claire said as they both ran out the room.

“Nice to know subtly isn’t their strong point.” Dean said with a nervous laugh. Cas just let out a long sigh and sat down across from Dean.

“Yes, I’m starting to think they might be plotting something.” Cas said. “If Claire is anything like Jack in the determination department then we might be in trouble.”

“Oh believe me, Claire does not need any help when it comes to determination. She can wrap anyone round her finger. You know I still have a scar on my forehead from when she made me go rollerblading?”

“You went rollerblading?” Cas asked, utterly baffled by the idea of Dean Winchester going rollerblading.

“Not voluntarily.” Dean said. Cas laughed and was shocked to see Dean’s face light up. “Um...I’m sorry to crash your evening like this. I didn’t think that I’d be here tonight.”

“No, when I went to the train station to pick up Jack I didn’t expect to see my twelve year old daughter.” Cas said. “You don’t have to apologise, I’ve enjoyed having Claire here.”

“Yeah, I really liked spending time with Jack, he’s a good kid.” Dean said. “Listen Cas-”

“Got the wine!” Gabriel said, strolling back into the kitchen holding two bottles of red wine. “Where’s Thing One and Thing Two.”

“Here!” Jack and Claire said in unison. Cas had a feeling the two had just been waiting outside the door for at least a minute. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw the smug look Jack gave Claire as they were dishing up dinner. Gabriel kept himself busy by pouring all the adults generous glasses of wine. Dean tried to protest because he still needed to drive back to Kansas but Gabriel laughed him off.

“So Deano, what have you been up to all these years?” Gabriel asked after nearly ten minutes of awkward silence while they ate.

“Oh...um...not much…” Dean said, staring down at his chilli.

“You have!” Claire intoned. She turned to Gabriel and Cas with a proud look on her face. “When Uncle Bobby decided to retire five years ago Dad brought his share of the garage. It’s expanded so much over the past few years that last year Dad brought the empty lot next door. He’s restoring a 1957 Chevy Bel Air at the moment and it’s awesome.” Claire said with so much pride in her voice that it made Cas smile fondly. Dean had always had a love for classic cars and he was happy to see that he had made his passion a profession.

“That’s amazing Dean, you should be proud.” Cas said.

“He is, he’s just awful at saying it.” Claire said. “We’ve got this old Firebird in the garage back home that Dad’s slowly been restoring. It’s really cool.”

“Are you planning on selling it once it’s restored?”

“Um...no...I mean, I was thinkin’ bout it but Claire loves the car so much that I’m planning on giving it to her as a graduation present.” Dean said, looking away from his plate of chilli to give Claire a quick, but loving, smile. “That’s if she gets good grades and promises to take care of it.” he added and Claire laughed.

“Me and Jack could take a twin road trip when we both graduate.” Claire said excitedly. “See the grand canyon or hike Yosemite!”

“And Yellowstone! We could see the geothermal pools.” Jack said with as much excitement as Claire.

“You know most teenagers would want to go to Tijuana.” Gabriel said.

“Does Tijuana have cool rock formations like Antelope Canyon? If not I don’t care about it.” Jack said and once again he and Claire high fived. It was at that moment Cas realised this wasn’t going to be easy. Claire and Jack knew about each other now. They’d bonded while at camp and separating them again would not only break their hearts but Cas’ as well.

“Yeah well, we’ll see.” Dean said in a small voice, catching Cas’ eye. This isn’t going to end well he said with his eyes. Cas nodded in agreement. While Claire and Jack began to plan a road trip that was several years away, Cas coughed to get Dean’s attention.

“I’m glad you’re doing something you love, with the garage I mean.”

“Oh...yeah, well you always knew it was a dream of mine to have my own garage.”

“I did and if I remember rightly I said that it would become a reality.” Cas said.

“Yeah well, it’s not as big as working in the white house but…”

“Dean, I think we both know that your job is far more interesting than mine. I talk about budgets all day while you-”

“Are stuck in the guts of a car and come home covered in axle grease? Seriously, Claire hoses me down some days.” Dean said letting out a small laugh as, once again, he glanced fondly at Claire.

“She’s amazing, I have to say. You’ve done an amazing job in raising her.” Cas said and he really meant it. True, most of the time he’d spent with a teenage Claire included Cas ‘spiralling’ but he’d enjoyed it.

“You say that now because she’s on her best behaviour...sort of. You do remember she set fire to the shed right? You’ve got the real winner with Jack. That kid, he’s just awesome. Really smart, kind of reminds me of Sam.”

“Can we both agree that our kids are amazing and leave it at that?” Cas asked. Dean chuckled and Cas was flooded with memories at the sound. His stomach ached with longing to make Dean laugh like that again and again. This really wasn’t going to end well at all.

#deancas parent trap #deancas fic #destiel fic #wanderingcas #deancas #destiel #part five will be up tomorrow cause it's already written #namely i had to cut this part down because it was already getting too long #like always if you want to be in the tag list just let me know!#hope you guys like these because i'm doing zero house stuff while writing this

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blizzardfluffykpop · 4 years ago

Text

M&M’s

Summary: Need a tutor? Well, you’ve come to the right school, we have just the one for you. And he’s attractive too.

Do or Not Series

Fluff

Word Count: 2,346

Hongseok X Reader

Of all my time at school, I never thought I would need tutoring. I was an A+ student when I started failing my classes. My grades were in the trash, and I had no idea how to improve or even raise them. How do you even study? Why is college structured like this? UGH! So now here I am sitting in the Dean’s office listening to them preach about how I need to learn from this person to pass. That they won’t hold it against me if I pass because of this tutor. All I have to do is pass the exams, and if I pass. I will move up to the Sophomore year. How am I supposed to pass a class that I’m not participating? And who is this person they are setting me up with? As if to answer my question, they say, “He should be here any moment.”

Like on queue, the door opens to reveal a rather attractive guy. They expect me to be able to study next to him? Oh god, I am so screwed, even worse than I was before. Okay, (Y/n), put your game face on and act like he does not affect you. “This is your tutor, Hongseok, and Hongseok this is (Y/n). I think you two will do well together.” We exchange a polite ‘hello’. Then the Dean tells him what the expectations are for the both of us. And I cannot help but feel my anxiety spike at each time he mentions ‘study’, ‘quiz’, and ‘pass’. What happened to cruising through school? Why is it no longer easy to pass? What did I miss when I was younger?

I was missing the old school structure. That I was memorizing what they said to forget it later. Because back then, as long as I knew the basics, I could pass. It wasn't like those classes were hard either. They repeated the same things over and over. So it was easy to remember, Hongseok had explained to me at our first meeting in the library. He wanted to know why I was failing and what made me remember best. I shrugged and said, 'probably repetition and listening' I wasn't sure, but that was the best guess I had. I never thought of ways to study because I never needed to beforehand. He grinned, “I know you wouldn’t believe it, but my first year here, I didn’t study. I didn’t know how or what worked for me or how I even learned. It took me to the last semester to realize what it was. Once it clicked, it was too late, and I barely passed my exams. To make up for me failing everything else, they asked me to tutor someone.” While I couldn’t believe my ears, something in my gut told me he wasn’t lying. Thus I decided that he was my best bet to make it into my sophomore year.

The following Wednesday, we are stuck inside the library again. When we get settled in our seats, he pulls out two packages of m&m’s. “What are those for?” I ask, and he shrugs and says, “You’ll see.” I pull out my books, a pencil, and a notebook. I’m worried he will look down on me for not having any past homework or past tests. But I threw them all out in exhaustion and frustration. I couldn’t deal with that massive amount of failure. But rather than saying anything, he pulls out some flashcards and a calculator. “Let’s start with math.”

Every time I got a question right, he gave me an m&m. My stomach growled at me every time I would get something wrong and lose out on an m&m. Not that I couldn’t reach in and get one, but the m&m's are rewards for whenever I get something right. Plus, he would give me his charming smile every time I got something correct, so I strived to get them correct.

It wasn’t until we finished math and science and we were walking out together. That I noticed, he was catering to the way I learned. Repeating steps with me or asking me the questions out loud and going through the steps with me. Whether it be an example or how to fix my mistakes, my heart skips a beat as he asks to walk me home.

"So, do you like university other than this?" I shrug, "It could be better, but generally I like it. Everyone I met is kind, like my roommates Changgu and Yanan. Like you're kind and sweet, I wanna thank you for helping me out." He grins, "You're helping me out too. I don't think either of us wishes to repeat Freshman year." I laugh and agree, "What about you? Do you like it here?" He shrugs, "It's okay. I don't have a roommate, but I have quite a few friends. So it helps, plus once you know how to study, it makes it so much easier." I laugh, "Yeah,... if I ever get to that point." When we reach my dormitory I tell him, "This is my stop." As I head inside, he yells, “I’ll see you this Sunday for History and [Subject].” I yell back my agreement and walk up the stairs to my room. I thought this would drag and not want to show up. But he makes me look forward to studying with him. Throwing my finished m&m bag away, I walk to my dorm with a proud smile on my face.

Like clockwork every Wednesday and Sunday, I spend the whole afternoon studying. And he would ask me to study for little quizzes that he would give me on Thursdays. They are over everything we have ever been over together. With each test I passed, my confidence grew, and so did my feelings.

Out of all the days that I spend with him, Thursdays have to be the hardest. With each test, I take the harder they become. I feel like my soul almost leaves my body every time he grades them. How his face turns up in cute ways, trying to figure out my process. Or when I get something right, he sends me a beautiful smile or his pout when I miss a question. His faces make my heart flutter while my stomach wants to throw up from fear of failure. Between the two, I can never seem to stomach Thursdays.

While I have learned my study pattern, I still have to pass this course with him or I fail. While I’m taking a quiz, three Thursdays before my exam, he tells me. “I can already tell you that you are going to succeed with flying colors. So if you fail this quiz, take it with a grain of salt. You have to fail sometimes to succeed.” The first page was easy I knew all the answers without a problem. I rushed through them, and the next page was a little harder. When I got to the eighth page, I was starting to question whether I was studying. What does the eighth number of pi have anything to do with this course? I wish to cry as I take my best guess, which is all I can do when I reach the tenth page. I sigh in relief, it’s the last page it can’t be that hard, can it? Oh, yes, yes it can. “If you take the 4th number of the last answer. [Which I am positive I did not get right, considering that I only gave a two-digit answer to the last question]. Exponentially expand it by twenty-two. What is the number you get?” And that is the first part of the ten parted question. My brain craves a nap and a family-size bag of m&m’s.

By the time I finish the last page, I am running on one brain cell. That is running around, throwing all the files in my brain into a shredder, and giving up. How did I not know a single answer after the third page? His face is in a pout after the second page, and my heart breaks. I don’t want him to disappoint him. I should study harder to make him proud of me. I groan internally, this is going worse than I expected. “Out of thirty questions, you got seven right!” He says in a cheery tone, and my heart falls out of my body, and my soul has ascended.

“Remember what I said when you started taking the test?” I rack my brain for answers and find nothing. I shake my head 'no', and he pouts, “Aw,... Well, I said take it with a grain of salt. Maybe some quizzes are made impossible.” My jaw drops, “You did that on purpose--!” He shrugs, “Did I?” He makes me rethink what I said, and I pout and cross my arms over my chest. He hands me a pack of m&m’s, “Maybe study harder.” He winks, and I push him to the side when we get up to leave the building. “You know you passed the hardest question on the quiz, right?” My eyes nearly pop out of my head, “What?” He grins, “None of your work made sense, but in the end, you answered four on the last question, and that was the right answer.” I smile, “Sometimes taking your best guess works. Also, four happens to be the professor's favorite number, so if you aren’t sure, guess that.” My jaw drops open again as he ruffles my hair, “You did pretty well, (Y/n).” I brighten at his words and hug him. “I promise to study hard! Two more quizzes before the final test!” He laughs and hugs me back telling me, “You got this!”

It wasn’t until the last study session that I realized how much I would miss Hongseok’s presence. It hit me like a ton of bricks, and when I got to my room, I was bawling. I wanted to see him more. I wanted to be around him and get to know him more. It took me a few moments, but I realized I fell for my tutor. How could I not? When I had a tutor like Hongseok,... Based on all calculations, I have a crush on him. I wonder if he likes me back, but there is only one way to know. Do I have enough courage for that? I’m not sure. I sigh and wipe my tears, saving them for a less important day. I need to study and pass these four exams.

I spend hours studying for tomorrow, although I know my study method. It did not make studying any less boring. I missed Hongseok, who would crack a joke or grab us a snack. He made this so much easier studying five hours with him felt like two. Ugh, now five hours of studying feels like fifteen. At the sixth hour, I call it a day and pull the covers over my head, and dream of failing the exams.

When my alarm clock finally rings, I’m happy to be up and away from those horrid dreams. With a brave face, I get ready for my exam day. I check my phone and see it’s Hongseok. He texted me, “Good luck on your exams! Fighting! You got this!” I smile and text him back, ‘thank you'. I got this, I keep reiterating to myself, but I can’t help but hear the doubtful voice in the back of my head. I am taking all my exams in one instance. So that means five hours of taking four different tests. While I know all the study sessions were preparing me for this moment, I want it to be over and done with already.

Of course, none of the tests were easy they each pulled at my wit's end. I sit there for another thirty minutes waiting for them to grade my tests. Preparing myself for the worst news, I think about Hongseok’s encouragement. If he thinks I’ll pass, maybe he’s right. If it wasn’t just my grades on the line, I wouldn’t care as much. But when it comes to Hongseok, my heart is grasping at the hope that I made it above passing.

The professor looks up at me as I turn a page in my book. I set it down with a bookmark. They smile at me, “Your lowest is an 87,” I gulp, no way, “Your highest is a 99.” My brain is no longer processing words as I rush out of my seat to see my results. “Congratulations, (Y/n). You passed with flying colors.” I smile and shake their hand, thanking them, and skip out of the building. I passed. I really passed! Is this real? I'm not dreaming again, right? I pinch myself and let out a small ‘ouch’ definitely real. I skip out of the building and see someone wearing a blue sweatshirt sitting on the fountain. As I come up closer, I recognize them as Hongseok. I run up to him and hug him. He whispers, “Did you pass?” And I shake my head 'yes'. He runs his hands through my hair, “I knew you would! I’m so proud of you.” Hearing him say that my heart pounds, “Um, Hongseok,...” I pull away from him a bit, my arms still wrapped around him. He nods for me to continue, “Would you maybe,... possibly want to go on a date with me?” He smiles, “I was gonna ask you that!” We both laugh as he hands me a family-size pack of m&m's for us to share. We head over to my dorm, and that is the start of our new beginning.

While we still study together, you can find us lying on the floor while watching the tv and throwing m&m's at each other. Making different kinds of foods together, making an even bigger mess in the kitchen. So yeah, if given the opportunity, I would fail my classes all over again. If it meant I got to meet Hongseok.

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kickingitwithkirk · 4 years ago

Text

Rain pt:I

Summary: After Supernaturals end Jensen’s life turned upside down. A year later an unexpected movie offer gives his career a second chance but it comes with an unexpected surprises.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x OFC! Lili

Word Count: 1918

Warnings: cursing, nervous Jensen, drinking, mentions of Holocaust, mention of divorce

A/N: This story has components from my favorite W. Somerset Maugham short Rain and Lace by Shirley Conran.

prologue

*no beta-all mistakes are mine

Jensen had been sitting in his manager's office for twenty minutes having arrived early. He wasn’t gonna chance missing this meeting and seriously wished he hadn’t drank that third cup of coffee ‘cause his leg was getting sore from the relentless bouncing between the caffeine and his nerves.

After making Jared swear not to say anything he gave him what he knew. Davis didn’t have a clue what the film was but Zimmer wanted to personally meet with him and the man didn't do face to face with anyone unless he had already decided about casting them.

Davis emphasized even if it's a small part, just being in a Zimmer film could, no, would reinvigorate his career, sending it in a whole new direction, he’d be seen as not just a sci-fi/horror genre actor but one whose name was bankable, maybe even capable of opening a movie.

Jensen jumped up when the office door opened as Davis walked in followed by an older, slightly built, elegantly dressed gentleman.

***

Eban Levi Zimmerman, who only went by Zimmer, was the decedent of two Holocaust refugee families, one from Austria, the other from Hungry. Both sets of his grandparents immigrated to Israel in the nineteen fifties, his mother and father were their middle children. They met and married in fifty-nine and he was born a year later.

He was their only child and dotted upon by all his family. From a young age he fell in love with the movies, his youth spent endlessly watching the greats of the silent era to the in fashion Cinema Italiano.

After graduating secondary school he was admitted into the NYC film school. Two years later he transferred to and graduated from USC film department.

He spent the next decade honing his craft as an assistant director for the likes of Spielberg, Scorsese, and Merchant before independently making his first film, a documentary on his family’s Holocaust experience.

It earned him an academy award nomination for best short documentary and soon studios were vying for him.

Zimmer’s directorial style had been compared to that of (One take Woody) W.S.van Dyke, bringing in his films on time and under budget.

His specialty was taking period pieces based on classic works and modernizing them with the gritty realism he learned under Scorsese. The studios learned years ago not to offer Zimmer big budget films with mindless, watered down scripts crafted for mass box office drawings only.

He was notorious for utilizing the difficult to pull off, long track shots, also learned under Scorsese. Many found this exasperating and exhausting to achieve.

A-list actors publicly pronounced they’d love the opportunity to be directed by him and some had been..but only once. He was always curtious but they learned the hard way he has absolutely no tolerance for a dialed in performance from his actors.

Behind the scenes they ended up cursing his name, becoming quickly disenchanted when they found that once in Zimmer’s domain, they would not be toadied or pampered, their whines catered to on his sets.

He also keeps an eye out for new talent, having cultivated his own small stable of actors utilizing them in most of his films as they had not only proved their mettle but earned his personal respect.

***

“Mr. Ackles, it is a pleasure to meet you,” Zimmer said sidestepping Davis and extending his hand, his grip stronger than he appeared surprising Jensen. “Sir, it’s a pleasure to meet you too.”

Zimmer softly humphs, waving a hand, “my father is sir, call me Zimmer,” he responds in a soft spoken accent more European than Israeli. “You’re taller than I thought, excellent. Of course, working alongside Mr. Padalecki would make most of us look short, I’m sure to appear as a midget next to him.”

Jensen chuckled, “Yeah, Jared has a lot of acreage. Please call me Jensen.”

“Won’t you have a seat…” Davis started and Zimmer gives him a do not interrupt me look.

“Jensen, would you please remove your hat and jacket.” He pulled off his ball cap and jacket as Zimmer walked slowly around him, sizing him up in an appreciable manner, “veuillez m’excuser,” and with his index finger poked at Jensen’s chest and abdomen.

“What the…” Jensen jerked in surprise as Zimmer smiled at him. “I’d appreciate it if you join me for lunch. I want to discuss the prospects of you joining my new project.” He turned walking out the office door without another word leaving the two men in shock.

“What’a you doing, waiting for an engraved invitation, move your ass!” Davis hissed at him.

Jensen grabbed his jacket and cap hurrying after Zimmer, suddenly feeling like a newbie chasing his big break instead of someone in the biz for over twenty years.

Zimmer was getting into his car as Jensen emerged from the building. Taking a deep breath to slow his heart rate and steady his nerves he climbed in the back of the limousine, sitting on the long seat on the other side of the limos bar. They drove in silence for a few minutes before pulling up to the Chateau Marmont.

Lunch turned out to be what in the fifties was termed a liquid lunch at the Bar Marmont. Zimmer orders a dirty martini with three olives and Jensen has a Chimay, figuring he better stick to something that wouldn’t muddle his brain today.

Zimmer takes a sip studying Jensen over the rim of the glass demonstrating his nervous tick with his tongue, slightly popping out between his lips licking at the bottom one but acting as if he’s not.

“You’re wondering why someone like me would contact you, am I not correct?”

Jensen fully licks his lips, “Honestly, yeah, I’m confused as hell. It’s not like we run in the same circles.”

“No, we certainly do not. I keep my eyes open for talent that has been, shall we say..overlooked, or in your case, underutilized. Casting picks up on your obvious qualities and misses the more subtle aspects.”

“Subtle aspects?”

“Yes, you’ve honed your obvious talents quite well. A long time ago Fellini told me a good director will only see the surface, a great one will seek out the untapped potential.” He paused to take sip, “I will admit I’m not a fan of your previous show but a close friend of mine is. I have always wondered why my friend had watched for years, what made your show so special. They told me to watch the nonverbal relationship between the Winchester brothers, how a glance, posture, a twitch even, expresses more than written words. I then saw it.”

“It?”

“I watched an episode with the deadly sins, the one with gluttony I believe, who found Dean hollow, it was the end that caught my attention, something in your expression when you were begging for help, I knew I found my Mr. Davidson.”

“Mr. Davidson.”

“Do you only parrot the end of sentences Jensen?” Zimmer teased, “Over a decade ago a spec script was being shopped around. It was an updated version of the 1928 silent film based on W. Somerset Maugham's short story Miss Thompson, which was severely edited due to objectionable moral content...language and reference to Davidson’s title as Reverend borrowed from the stage version. It’s rather amusing the censors found those things immoral considering the lifestyles in pre-code Hollywood.

This script was brought to my attention by a studio optioning it at the time. I agreed to direct if we came to terms on the stars. They were very specific about who they wanted to star, both are excellent actors but I believed they didn’t fit the roles and suggested two other leads. Well, long story short, it fell through.” Zimmer paused again to savor his drink, “I later found out someone had purchased the script and all rights to it produce it at a later date.” He stops to nibble on an olive.

“Preproduction is currently underway, the rest of the cast has been signed and I’m planning to start rehearsals in a few weeks. The only component missing is Davidson.” Zimmer pulls a script from his inner coat pocket and sits it on the table.

“There are two things I need you to consider before agreeing: you’ll have to lose a minimum of fifteen pounds, twenty five preferably, I have a nutritionist you can consult with to safely do it in the time since actual filming doesn’t start until October.”

Jensen never had to do extensive exercising to stay in his current shape but knew losing that much weight wouldn’t be easy with his solid build, “And the second?”

Zimmer tapped his slender fingers on the script a few times before opening it, “I am trusting your discretion if you say no not to discuss the scene you read,” he slid it across the table. Jensen picked it up and scanned through the script, reading the dialogue.

He shook his head and reread through it again slowly, paying closer attention to the directors notes. “Are you seriously shooting this?”

“Yes, this is my completed shooting script for the film. You’ve done some directing, that’s the reason I showed it to you. I wanted you to know what this part fully entails.” He retrieved the script placing it back into his inner coat pocket before picking up his martini glass studying Jensen over the rim again. “And before you ask, yes, the actress playing Sadie knows about the scene and I’m well aware this part is like nothing you’ve never done before.”

“I’m sorry but I really don’t get it, why me? I’ve done mostly television, what makes you believe I can pull off this role?”

“Instinct.” Zimmer clasped his hands together on top of the table and leaned towards him, “I don’t waste my time on anyone or anything I don’t have faith in Jensen.”

Zimmer reaches for his glass again, “Like I’ve stated, I see more in your acting abilities than you’ve tapped yet. You’ll be working with some of the best in the business, co-stars who will push you to reach for that extra bit. Say yes and I can help shape you into an actor who gets the coveted rolls most only dream of.” He finishes the last of his martini.

“I’m going to say this now, I’m not missing Christmas with my kids, I’ve already promised them I would be there, it's the first since my divorce. I also have to be in Toronto in early February.”

“I’ve cut out a week of rehearsals to compensate for the producer who insisted shutting down production from December twenty-third to January third. We are scheduled to wrap filming by the twenty-ninth, so there’s no conflict with your other commitments.”

Jensen mentally calculates actual filming time will be less than thirteen weeks, a tight shoot compared to some filming schedules.

Zimmer stares him straight in the eye, “I’ll apologize now for the time constraint, a decision such as this that will affect your career needs time to consider but unfortunately, I need a definitive answer by tonight.

Zimmer stood up, “Now, the driver will take you back to your management's offices. I have a currier waiting with a contract for you to look over, I’m sure you’ll find the terms more than applicable.” He extended his hand and Jensen got up to shake it, “I’m looking forward to working with you Jensen Ackles.”

tbc

Tagging: SPN @donnaintx

Dean/Jensen: @flamencodiva

Rain @stoneyggirl

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x ofc #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles au #slow burn #rpf fanfic #rpf

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jensengirl83 · 5 years ago

Text

No Regrets

Dean x reader

Word count-2004

Warnings-Angst, language, death

Summary-Reader has feelings for Dean but has never told him. Will she have a chance before it is too late?

A/N- This is a request from @sutton2001. I hope it is what you were wanting!

“Y/n I am asking you nicely, please stay back on this one.” Dean had been all but begging her to stay at the bunker. This hunt was going to be a bad one. They had gotten word of a horde of demons two states over. The numbers didn’t sound good and he didn’t want her getting hurt.

“Dean, I am a hunter. I was before I met you. I am going on this hunt because it is my job!” Y/n was not lying, but she was not telling the whole truth. She was in love with Dean and could not stand the thought of him getting hurt and her not be by his side.

Y/n had met the boys through Bobby. Her father being a hunter who had helped Bobby from time to time. Her father had been killed not long after her sixteenth birthday, leaving her nowhere to go but to Bobby’s. That is the first time she had seen Dean. He had stopped by with John, them needing Bobby’s help with some lore. She was sitting on the couch, feet propped up on a stack of books in the floor, when the door opened. She lifted her eyes and met the most beautiful green eyes she had ever seen. His dirty blonde hair sticking up disheveled on his head. She had been entranced with him ever since.

They stayed in contact over the years and the boys had asked her to move in with them when they had discovered the bunker. She did not hesitate, of course, not turning down the opportunity to be close to Dean. She had always had a crush, it turning to love after about a year of living and hunting with him. She could not tell him how she felt. She was too scared of the rejection and ruining what friendship they had.

“Fine, but you stay close and listen to what I say.” Dean and his stubbornness. It was endearing and maddening at the same time.

“Okay Dean. I do know how to kill demons unless you have forgotten.” Her hand is on her hip with her eyebrow raised.

“I know that Y/n. We are going to be outnumbered so we have to play it smart.” Dean knows she is capable, but this is not a normal demon hunt. The numbers more than they usually fight in one place.

“Well are we going to keep talking about it or go deal with it?” She wants this conversation to be over with.

“Go pack a bag sweetheart, we leave in fifteen minutes.” Dean rolls his eyes at her sassiness. She would not be Y/n without it.

“Aye aye captain!” Dean laughs as she turns on her heels to go pack, silently praying that this hunt will go without a hitch.

Twenty minutes later they are in Baby and on the road. Sam riding shotgun with his nose in his phone as usual. Y/n in the backseat, leaning up between the brothers, her arms folded on the seat. Dean’s cassette of choice playing in the background. She was feeling uneasy about this hunt, one of the reasons she refused to stay back. If something went wrong, she wanted to be there. Dean’s voice makes her turn her head to look at him. His voice a little off key singing the words to ‘Night Moves’. Dean feels her eyes on him and flashes her a smile. The smile that reaches his eyes and makes them crinkle. She loves this man more than she could ever put into words. She sends up another prayer that her gut is wrong this time.

Seven-hour drive and a lot of Sam whining about the music, they finally arrive in the town. Sam goes to check them in to the hotel while her and Dean wait in the car. The bad feeling increasing the closer they made it to the town. She has no idea what is going to happen, but if her feeling is right, it is not going to end well. Lost in her thoughts, she does not see Dean staring at her. He can see the tension and anxiety written all over her face.

“Penny for your thoughts sweetheart.” Dean laughs when his voice causes her to jump with a squeal.

“Damn it Dean! You scared me to death!” Y/n yells clutching her chest, her heart in her throat.

“You look alive to me.” He is still laughing as he dodges her hand.

“Very funny Winchester.” She rolls her eyes. He is always one to crack a stupid joke.

“Seriously Y/n, what is going on it that head of yours. I thought you were going to chew your bottom lip off!” She had not noticed she was biting her lip. A habit she has when she is overthinking.

“I have a bad feeling in my gut Dean. I don’t think this hunt is going to end well for us.” She wants to kick herself. Why did she tell him the truth? He will try to make her stand down for sure now.

“Y/n sweetheart, Me and Sammy do this all the time. We will be fine, but you might want to…” She cuts him off before he can finish his sentence. No way she is staying back and not being there to help them.

“No Dean! I am going. If my feeling is right, something bad is going to happen and I will not be sitting in a hotel room by myself. I will be there if either of you get hurt! Got it?” She was leaving no room for him to argue. He was not winning this time.

“Fine but please stay behind me and Sammy and watch your back.” He is looking right in her eyes. His expression serious but something else in it too. She cannot quite make it out.

“I promise Dean.” She smiles at him as he smiles back. The car door opening ending the conversation.

“I got us a room. We can drop off our stuff and gear up to kill these demons and go back home.” Sam says getting back in the passenger seat. Dean puts the impala in drive and parks in front of their room.

Forty-five minutes later and they are back in Baby and ready to hunt. The demons are supposed to be holed up in an old warehouse right outside town. Y/n gets more nervous the closer they get. The feeling she has had all day increasing with every mile. What will she do if something happens to one of them? She is in love with Dean, but Sam is like her brother. Either one would be a loss she could never get over. Dean can sense her fear as they get closer, looking in the rearview mirror every few minutes to look at her. Y/n sits back and tries to calm down. Dean does not need to be distracted by worrying about her while they kill these bastards.

They finally arrive, parking a little distance away as not to be detected. Angel blades, holy water and salt in their hands, they make their way to the door of the warehouse. Dean signals Sam to go around the back and push any demons there towards him and Y/n in the front.

“Stay close sweetheart. Keep your eyes and ears open and let’s go kill these sons a bitches.” Dean whispers to her and places a kiss to her forehead. She smiles and nods as they make their way through the door. That is when everything went to hell.

There were a lot more than they had expected. Dean and Y/n were surrounded in mere minutes, both punching, kicking and stabbing their way through. Sam had managed to kill the ones in the back and had made his way to her and Dean. They finally manage, after what seemed like hours, to take them all down. All of them bruised and cut, but they had made it. Y/n was smiling at the boys from across the room where she had dropped the last demon when Dean’s eyes widened, and he began to scream.

“Y/n run!” He and Sam were in a full run towards her, but she did not run. She instead turned on her heels to see what they were looking at. The biggest mistake she would make in her life.

“Y/n no!” Dean is moving as fast as he can, but he was not fast enough.

As soon as she had turned around, she was eye to eye with a demon they had somehow missed. The evil smile on his face the only thing she registered at first, then the searing pain right below her ribcage. She looked down to see the knife in the demon’s hands, buried to the hilt. The demon yanked the knife out of her side and began to run, Y/n’s knees going weak and falling to the floor. Dean had made it in time to catch her before she hit the cold dirty concrete floor as Sam kept going after the demon.

“Dean….I am so sorry.” Y/n is apologizing her mouth filling with the taste of copper.

“Shhh sweetheart. We are going to get you out of here. You will be just fine Y/n.” Dean is putting pressure on the wound, but the blood is gushing out between his fingers. Quickly making a puddle in the floor under Y/n’s body.

“No Dean. I am not leaving this room alive, so promise me something ok?” Y/n reaches up to cup Dean’s cheek in her hand while she still has the strength.

“Y/n please don’t say that. I will get you out of here and Cas can come heal you.” Dean leans his face into her hand, tears starting to stain his cheeks.

“Dean please, let me say this. You have to promise no…” She starts to cough, blood running out of the corners of her mouth. “No deals. Promise me that Dean!” She finally able to get her words out.

“I promise sweetheart because you are not going to die!” Dean’s body is wracked with sobs now. He knows she is not going back with them alive this time, but he cannot admit it to himself.

“I have to say this quick so do not interrupt me please. I love you Dean. I have for years but I never told you because I did not want to ruin what we had. That is why I have always stayed Dean, always followed you wherever you went. I could not bear the thought of not being with you. Knowing it ends like this I would do it all over again. I have no regrets Dean, so do not eat yourself up with guilt over this. You hear me Dean?” Dean nods his head. “Tell Sammy I love him, and I will be waiting for you both on the other side.” Dean places as kiss to her lips. Their first and last kiss.

“I love you too Y/n.” Dean whispers to her as he lays his forehead against hers, reaching to intertwine their fingers. His other hand coming up to caress her cheek.

“Keep fighting Dean….you and Sam kick it in the ass ok?” She struggles to let out a laugh but instead coughs, choking on her own blood.

“I promise sweetheart.” Dean can see the life draining from her eyes. His heart is shattering into a million pieces as she squeezes his hand one last time, the last whisper of breath leaving her body. Her once bright and beautiful eyes are now dull and lifeless. Dean is laying across her, sobs wracking his body as he holds her in his arms like he should have a long time ago.

If only she could make him feel what she felt as she took her last breath. How happy she was that if she had to go, she went looking into his eyes. She drifted away feeling the love between them. She died peaceful and with no regrets.

Tags: @flamencodiva @sorenmarie87 @foxyjwls007 @waywardbeanie @emoryhemsworth @voltage-my2dlove @hardcoresupernatural @marvelouslysherlockedhunter @lyarr24

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #reader insert #dean x reader #dean fanfiction #spn fanfiction #spn family #angst #character death

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zmediaoutlet · 5 years ago

Text

in support of Black Lives Matter, @petitgateau911 donated $25, and requested weecest first time. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

They’re just outside Wheeling, and Dad’s been gone for twenty-four days, and it’s friggin’ cold outside but it’s going to be 1999 in an hour, and Sammy’s--

“Dude, are you drunk?” Dean says.

“No,” Sam says, with affronted dignity. He puts his beer down in the snow and stands on one leg, easy balance. “See. You’re drunk.”

“Sure thing, squirt,” Dean says, laughing, and Sam grins at him in a total unexpected bloom out of nowhere, and it warms his gut just as much as the bonfire’s doing. It’s not much of a New Year’s Eve, but he’s got himself with no broken bones, and he’s got Sammy smiling, and Dad’s in the wind but they’ve got a twelve-pack and bottle of five-buck champagne waiting and a fire, out back of the trailer, and things aren’t all right with the world but, shit, Dean’s known them of a hell of a lot more wrong, so. He lifts his beer in a little toast, to Sam’s balance and to the world in general, and kicks his boots out into the snow. “You let me know if we’re up too far past your bedtime.”

Sam sticks his tongue out, kinda proving Dean’s point, but hell. He’s cheerful, which can get in short supply most days. No school to miss, with everything closed for the winter break, and Dad’s top-secret-no-sons-allowed hunt’s been keeping the boat unrocked, since Dad pretty much just calls Dean every few days to check in as proof of life, and so it’s just been them, and the woods out here, and the trailer. No job in this town, but Dad left enough cash that they’re floated for a while, and Christmas was pretty lame but Dean made a mega-batch of brownies from a box mix that turned out pretty good and Sam nearly ate his weight in ‘em, and there was enough cash left in Dean’s budget to do New Year’s right. Sammy’s even unbent enough to have some drinks, which frankly Dean’s surprised didn’t take more wheedling, but Sam shrugged and said, “It’s traditional, right?” and Dean could’ve just hugged him, but he settled for a noogie instead.

Sam’s still insisting on his sobriety. Dean can’t stop laughing, from his tree-stump that’s serving as a seat. “Shut up, watch,” Sam says, and does the whole rigamarole of the DUI stop to prove it. Walks a straight line, and stands on one foot, and recites the alphabet backwards while touching his nose. “See?”

“Sammy, how the hell do you know all that stuff?” Dean says. “You drunk-driving when I’m not around?”

He keeps holding his balance, looking up at the dark sky with his finger still on his nose. “DARE class, when we were in New Mexico,” Sam says, and finally drops the stance, shrugging. “Figured it couldn’t hurt to be good at it, just in case.”

Just in case. Dean’s little brother, ladies and gents. “You’re such a freak,” Dean says, glad, and Sam rolls his eyes but stumps over through the snow in his too-big boots, shaking his empty can. “Oh, and now you want a refill?”

“How long until we can open the champagne?” Sam says, practical, and Dean checks his watch. 47 minutes. “So, beer,” Sam says, and Dean shrugs, and gives him one.

“All right, short stuff,” Dean says, getting to his feet. He really is getting kinda tipsy--five beers to Sam’s two, that’s maybe understandable. “One thing about being a Winchester--you gotta hold your liquor.” Sam snorts, which Dean ignores. “Second thing, though, is that no matter what, you gotta be able to handle yourself. No matter what.”

“You said no matter what twice,” Sam says, helpfully, and Dean tugs his hat down over his face.

“So,” Dean says, and hops inside for their pistols, and a box of rounds. When he comes back out into the cold Sam’s resettled his hat and his face is pink and his eyes bright, and Dean does hug him then, a one-armed sling around his neck that makes Sam squawk but drags him all warm and bony up into Dean’s side, and then Dean drags them to the other side of the bonfire, where the light starts to fade as the trees encroach on the yard. The fence is kinda falling apart, but it’s steady enough to hold their empties.

Dean sets it up while Sam’s making skeptical-face. “You’re making me do training now?” Sam says, and Dean jumps back over through the deeper snow, crunching into the holes he already made. “Dude, this is lame.”

“Dude, it’s gonna be great,” Dean says, “because check it out: every can you take out, you get to take a drink!”

Sam sighs, like he’s aggravated, but he’s just being fifteen, because he’s grinning right after. Dean stands a pace behind him while he loads, professional, checking his weapon right just like Dean taught him--and he lines up, skinny shoulders square, and sights along his strong arm just like he’s supposed to. Shot--whipcrack sound that ricochets through the clearing--and-- “Yes!” Dean says, punching Sam’s shoulder, and he grabs their beers and toasts Sam, clunking the cans together, and even Sam going wait, you don’t get to drink yet! doesn’t dim Dean’s cheer.

“Okay,” Dean says, waggling his eyebrows, “my turn,” and Sam squints at him thoughtfully and then stoops and flings at handful of snow at Dean just as he’s lining up to fire, and he sputters and the shot goes wild into a tree, and he yells “Dude!”, scraping snow off his face, but Sam’s dancing backwards, laughing, saying, “Hey, you never said that was against the rules!” and oh, it is on.

Snowball fights aren’t supposed to involve gunfire, Dean’s pretty sure, but sometimes the Winchesters play on different rules than other people. All bets are off after Dean dumps a handful of snow down Sammy’s jeans when he’s aiming for his next can, and Sam’s girly-ass scream could probably be heard down at city hall. Dean makes his next shot even with Sam jumping around behind him making crazy monkey noises, and he drains his beer that time, and watches Sammy do the same. There’s a brief stand-off when Dean’s got two snowballs packed and ready, tossing them back and forth between his gloved hands, and Sam keeps watching him instead of raising his pistol to fire--solved when Sam raises--Dean throws--Sam immediately ducks and rolls forward in the snow, and fires closer--and totally misses, but Dean’s so impressed at the shitty attempt at ninjahood that he says Sam earned a drink anyway, and before long they’re laying on the ground, laughing and breathless, the cans all shot and the beer mostly gone, things pretty much perfect.

“How long,” Sam says, and Dean checks his watch.

“Eight minutes,” he says. Sam hums, sits up. He’s still got on his hat, somehow, but his nose is bright pink with cold. “Damn, kiddo. You’re gonna turn into a popsicle.”

Eyeroll, very obvious over Sam’s shoulder. “You’re the one who’s not wearing a hat,” he says, and Dean shrugs. Some things are just too dorky. When Sam’s a little older he’ll know it. “Anyway, whose fault is it that I’ve got snow in my boxers.”

“Um, yours,” Dean says, and Sam raises his eyebrows outraged and Dean says, “Hey, you started it, squirt,” and Sam says, “Only because you cheated first!” and Dean scoops a little clump of snow up and tosses it at Sam’s head, and Sam squawks and launched a full out tackle at Dean, and it’s on, yet again.

Sam’s wriggly and he’s got the bony elbows, but Dean still has five inches on him and the reach to match, and also he’s been fighting dirty way longer. He gets Sam pinned in pretty short order, an armbar over his chest and Dean grinning down into his face, and Sam puffs in irritation but then melts back into the ground--Sam’s special way of losing where somehow he tries to make it seem like it was always his idea, and he doesn’t care, anyway. “Uncle?” Dean says, and Sam says, “Whatever,” and Dean roll his eyes but sits up, straddling Sam just in case he tries anything else, and checks his watch again.

“Hey, one minute!” he says. “Got any resolutions planned?”

“Yeah,” Sam says, quiet. Different, to his usual moody Sam-ness, and Dean frowns, looks at him. His face is still all pink, nose and cheeks and what Dean can see of his ears where his hat’s not tugged down, and he doesn’t look--sad, or anything. Sam licks his lips, looks back at him like he wants to say something, but doesn’t know how to get it out.

“What?” Dean says, and Sam’s mouth twitches, and then he grabs Dean by the lapels of his leather jacket and pulls him down, and kisses him.

Dean catches himself with one hand in the snow to stop from toppling forward. He hovers there, shocked, and Sam--Sam holds on tight, presses their lips clumsily together. Like he has no idea what he’s doing, but he’s determined to do it anyway. “Sam,” Dean mumbles, brain still not quite together, and Sam huffs against his mouth and kisses him again, this weird smoochy noise that makes it really click in Dean’s head--Sam, kissing him. Sammy, kissing him. He blinks, pushes up, and Sam lets him go, back in the snow, face bright red and his mouth set like he knows he’s lost a bet but is determined not to care.

“Sammy,” Dean says. Everything’s static, two-am test pattern in his head.

Sam looks at him, then at the fire. “Midnight,” he says, and Dean glances at his watch to see that--yeah, jesus, it’s midnight, happy 1999, and Sammy fucking kissed him in the snow and that’s not--

“I just wanted to,” Sam says, quiet. Dean sits there, uncertain. “Just one thing, for me. Doesn’t have to be a big deal, Dean.”

“It doesn’t?” Dean says, and Sam gets redder somehow, his face all washed-out warm in the firelight, and Dean thinks--just one thing. For him. For all those days and days of curling up on the fold-out together and elbowing each other through Escape from LA and Sam falling asleep in the curve of Dean’s arm, that time, and Dean touching his cheek and thinking--wondering--

“Can we open the champagne?” Sam says, fake cheerful, pressing his hands down against the ground to squirm backwards, to get away, and Dean leans down and kisses him right--full contact, spreading himself over Sam’s body, a hand on Sam’s cheek and pressing Sam’s mouth open, wet touch of beery heat and Sam full-on gasps against Dean like a girl having her first time, and Dean pulls back for a second, turned upside down, inside out. Sam shudders, grabs at him, says his name.

“Sammy,” Dean says back, and then, weird and raw, “you never did this before?”

Sam stares at him, four inches away. Shakes his head, and the ends of his hair are wet with snow, clinging to his cheeks, and Dean licks his lips and tastes--beer--and tugs Sam up, and over, and when he sits down on the stump Sam collapses into his lap in total and ongoing surprise, like having started this he had absolutely no idea it could go further. “What?” he says, dumb, which is a nice change for once, for Dean to be the one who knows what’s going on, and Dean says, “Shut up, Sammy,” and tucks his hands on either side of Sam’s jaw and kisses him again, and again, soft and slow like he learned to do with the nervous chicks, and Sam just melts into his lap, grabbing at him awkward but eager. Wanting, and that’s just--Dean can’t think about that.

He gets an arm around Sam’s waist, keeps him close, and Sam squirms, his weight shifting in Dean’s lap. “Yeah?” Dean says, and his dick--jesus, his dick’s on board, has been, rocking a half-chub since Sam started wrestling with him but he’s been able to put that away--has always been able to put that away--only this time he doesn’t have to and it’s got his head spinning, his body moving on weird autopilot, since Sam wants it, Sam’s been wanting it. He grabs Sam’s ass and Sam jerks, gasping into his mouth, and Dean squeezes, instinct telling him that that’s a good thing, a good turned-on sound, and Sam shivers and his hips push back, and then cringe forward against Dean’s stomach, and then he jerks and says, “Oh,” soft, and Dean doesn’t get what that means until Sam’s hiding his face in Dean’s shoulder, shaking, and Dean realizes that Sam came in his pants, just from Dean touching him and having him in his lap, and his whole body feels like it about catches fire, right then.

Sam’s still quivering, though, and Dean’s not a dickhead. “Sammy,” he says, and tugs off a glove with his teeth to touch Sam’s bare skin--his neck, exposed to the cold, and the silky hair at the base of his skull.

“I didn’t--” Sam mumbles, clutching at Dean’s coat, and Dean doesn’t know what that means but he’s got a lot of experience reassuring his little brother, and even if this situation is--insane--world-ending maybe--well, he knows what to do here.

“Probably got jizz on my jeans, freak,” he says, super soft, and Sam pulls back and looks at him horrified, and then sees his expression and punches him in the shoulder, hard. “Ow,” Dean says, obligingly, and then touches Sam’s jaw, easy. “Hey. It’s cool.”

“Is it cool?” Sam says, echoing, and Dean bites the corner of his mouth, knowing he doesn’t really have an answer. Sam snorts, bitter. Dean doesn’t know if he was ever so bitter. “Yeah, see? I--I shouldn’t have--”

“Shut up, Sammy,” Dean says, again, and Sam looks at him, miserable. Dean shrugs. “New year. We still got that bottle of champagne. We could go inside. Whatever--whatever you want to do, man. Night’s still young.”

Sam stares at him. “Really?” he says, and Dean says, maybe more honest than he can ever remember being with anyone, “It’s all good with me,” because--it is. For once. Maybe for the first time in Dean’s whole life--everything is completely, totally, bizarrely, freakily--good. He blames it on the beer, and on how Sam starts, even if uncertainly, to smile.

#fffb #petitgateau911 #weecest #tw: tipsy decision making #my writing

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suncityblues · 4 years ago

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Bad Luck and Sunshine

Part 1/5 - SPN - 3k words

read on AO3

He can fit all his worldly possessions on the passenger seat of his car.

Car keys, red bic lighter, a toothbrush in a ziplock bag. Cellphone, charger, brown faux leather wallet. A maxed out credit card with the name James Ledbetter on it, and a fake ID to match the card. Fourteen American dollars, one Canadian quarter, a Blimpie’s buy-one-get-one coupon.

A pen with the name of a bank on it, a tin of salt. A paperback with a four leaf clover carefully pressed into the pages between the title and the acknowledgments, and that’s it.

Castiel taps the book in the spot where the clover is pressed. He can feel the slight bump of it.

“They’re supposed to be good luck,” Dean had told him with a shrug when Cas asked why he was rooting around in the grass that day. Dean had handed Cas the book with the clover inside and said, “I used to search for them sometimes when I was a kid. It’s dumb but, hey, I figure we could use all the luck we can get.” Dean had smiled softly then, a bit sheepish. The tips of his ears had gone red.

Back then the world had been ending, so Cas supposed Dean was right, they could use luck.

He remembers trying to be encouraging, saying something about the placebo effect that made Dean roll his eyes and laugh at the same time. He can’t quite recall the specifics of it anymore.

A while later he had reached out to the clover with his grace and found nothing particularly special about it, but kept it and the book anyway. He reaches out again, now, with what little of his power he has left. It’s still just as lucky as any other dead plant.

He takes stock of his possessions again, focusing in particular on the fourteen American dollars and the one Canadian quarter. He checks how much gas he has left in his car and it’s not much. If he keeps going he’ll have to choose between food and gas, just to run out of it again anyway.

He needs to eat sometimes now, and drink water. He needs a shower and a bed if he can get them. Clothes, shoes, soap, toothpaste. All of it costs money, and to get money you have to trade time. Castiel has always found that a little ridiculous but it’s not like he makes the rules anymore.

He’s been pulled over in a dark parking lot in a truck stop town called Laurel for a while now thinking about what to do. Sam and Dean had set him up with the card and the fake ID before he left and Cas doesn’t want to ask them for any more help. He decides Laurel is as good a place as any other to get stuck in.

It’s 9:52 on a Tuesday.

A day and a half later Castiel is once again employed at a gas station. He’d tried a diner, a vegetable canning factory, a hardware store, and a rundown CVS but the gas station is the first place that got back to him. They were short staffed after someone named Ricky had walked out, and desperately needed a replacement. Kendra, the manager, had said “it’s like you were sent by an angel!” When she read through his mostly fictional work history. It had made Cas laugh.

This one is called Sunshine Gas and Go. They have to wear ugly yellow polo shirts that say “Let me know how I can help make your day sunny!” On the back. They keep the beer on the left side of the cooler bank instead of the right and the jerky next to the self-serve coffee but aside from that it’s remarkably similar to a Gas-N-Sip.

He wonders bleakly if he should have been the patron of gas stations while he had the ability.

The angel of Thursday, the angel of gas stations, that’s Cas. The guardian of the spaces you have to pass through on your way to better days, better places.

He sometimes wonders how Nora’s doing; if her kid’s okay.

It takes Sam and Dean five weeks to cave and check in on him. Cas has been in Laurel for the last three.

They pretend to be on their way back from a hunt, a totally routine salt and burn, and just so happen to be refueling at that particular gas station in this particular truck stop, exactly fifteen minutes after his coworker leaves Cas alone to cover the overnight shift. It’s an obvious and flimsy excuse to make sure he’s okay, but he’s known them long enough to understand that obviousness and flimsy excuses to see one another are gestures of affection in the Winchester family. He finds it somewhat exhausting to witness, and even more so to experience but he doesn’t call them out on it.

He does, however, make pointed eye contact with Sam who waves his hands in a placating gesture behind Dean’s back and excuses himself to go stare at the overpriced air fresheners on the other side of the store. He had hoped Sam, at least, would have had the sense to text first.

On the counter next to the cash register there’s a plastic bin with a picture of a bald child in a hospital bed taped to it and some loose change inside. Dean picks the can up, looks inside it, shakes it a bit, puts it down. It’s mostly empty.

“You’d think people’d be a little more generous, what with the cancer kid at stake and all,” he says. When Cas doesn’t immediately reply Dean continues, “Or is this one of those, uh, charity scams? You know, where the evil mega corporation asks you to pretty please donate so they can use it as a tax write off?”

Castiel shrugs, he doesn’t know what the Sunshine Gas and Go does with the money. Says: “I’m not sure, Dean.”

He pretends not to see Dean stick some gum from the display under the counter into his coat pocket. He’s watched Dean do this before to other casheers, leaning close to flirt and making off with what he can. Cas supposes old habits die hard. The gum is sugar free cinnamon.

Dean sees him pretending not to see. He smiles big and bright, his nose does a little crinkle that Cas always liked. The term “shit eating grin” comes to mind, Cas must have heard it somewhere, probably about Dean that time too. He rolls his eyes and says, “How was your hunt? Were you or Sam hurt at all?” He can’t do much besides heal minor cuts and bruises these days, but for the Winchesters he’d still offer what he can.

Dean waves him off, “Fine, fine, got shoved around a bit but it’s nothing a cold compress and a good night’s sleep can’t fix.”

“Speaking of,” Dean segues in a breezyl tone Castiel knows is dangerous territory, “Where are you sleeping these days? You gotta sleep now right?”

The ghost of Rexford sits heavy between them, though it’s been years since then. Cas realizes being back at a gas station might have caught Dean off guard, or felt like some kind of dig at him. He doesn’t know how to explain that it’s just bad luck, and he’s not sure Dean would believe him if he did.

This time around he’s not squatting in the back room with the cleaning chemicals but he is sleeping in his car, just until he has enough money for a place to stay or decides to hit the road again. He knows that’s not anything Dean wants to hear.

“Yes, Dean, I need to sleep” he answers, then pauses. He considers lying but it never works out when he does, and this isn’t life or death; just embarrassing.

Besides, Sam and Dean are observant and thorough even during a glorified social visit, so Cas figures they’d put two and two together as soon as they walked in the door. There’s no way they hadn’t clocked his too-big thrift store jeans under the uniform shirt, or the circles under his eyes. The way his beard is a little patchy from shaving in the bathroom mirror in the truck stop visitor center. It’s likely they’d found his car in it’s discreet parking space at the edge of the lot before coming into the Sunshine Gas and Go.

Cas tries tactful honesty: “I’m saving up.”

And it’s true, he is, though he’s not sure what he’s saving up for. But every Friday he gets a paycheck and brings it to the check cashing place in town. After the fee, and groceries, and little necessities he carefully stores what little he has left in the locked glove compartment of his car, under the book with the clover in it.

Dean’s lips press flat together. He stops leaning over the counter and stands at his full height. He makes an aborted head shaking gesture. He speaks like there’s an awful taste in his mouth.

“So,” he says, slightly too loudly to pay it off as cool. Out of the corner of his eye Castiel sees Sam’s head wip towards them, no longer pretending he’s not eavesdropping.

“So, ah—“ Dean repeats, “you’re gonna, what? Drift around? Lay low in some podunk shit hole for the rest of your life?“ he stops, puts his hands on the counter to steady himself, or to keep from reaching over and grabbing him, Cas isn’t sure. A beat.

“You know what?” Dean says, “Nevermind.”

Cas deflates. He knows Dean disagrees with him leaving so soon after becoming human again, and feels guilty about so many things it’s hard for Cas to keep track of them all, but he knows he couldn’t stay either. Just like lying to the Winchesters, it never works out in the end. With almost no power, he’s no help to anyone, not Sam and Dean, not heaven, not even himself. It hurts to think about but maybe that’s just part of being human.

“Dean—“ he starts to say but he’s cut off.

“Don’t worry about it, man” Dean says, he taps the counter twice with his knuckles, “nice place you got here. I’m glad you’re doing alright.”

Dean swallows and abruptly turns to leave, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. Cas watches him go until Sam comes to the counter with two bottles of water, a coffee, and an energy bar.

He puts a twenty down, says apologetically, “For this stuff and whatever Dean stole on his way out.”

“Gum,” Cas supplies, and slides the twenty back towards Sam. “Don’t worry about it,” he says.

The cameras don’t work inside the store, and according to Joanna, the only reason they’re still up at all is to deter would-be armed robbers. Castiel watches less deserving people steal from them all the time, so it doesn’t seem worth it to take Sam’s money.

Sam shakes his head and gives him a flat smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He takes his things but leaves the twenty. Says, “See you around, Cas.” He pauses for a moment, and seems to debate something with himself. Then: “Check in sometimes if you can, okay? You know how Dean can be when he gets worried.”

Castiel knows. He waves to Sam as he walks off into the dark.

Cas checks the gum display, then manually rings up the items Sam bought. He puts the change into the plastic jar with the kid in the hospital bed on it.

A few days later a woman comes in with a ghost behind her. Cas checks the time to keep from gaping. 11:27 AM.

The ghost is a man, perhaps in his mid forties. Too young to be dead, but Cas supposes most people feel that way when they die, no matter how old. When the woman comes to the counter and gives him thirty dollars to put on pump six he sees a wedding ring on a chain around her neck. He puts two and two together.

“That’s a lovely necklace” he says, he looks directly at the ghost when he says it. They make eye contact. The ghost does a sharp inhale for a moment and the lights flicker. The ghost disappears.

Cas frowns, “Sorry about that. It happens all the time,” he lies. He wonders if he could purify the ghost with what powers he has left, that way she wouldn’t have to burn her wedding ring.

The woman seems caught off guard, then smiles politely.

“No worries, it happens all the time at my house too. Must be a faulty power grid in this town or something, my kids swear it’s a ghost or something,” she says.

There’s an apprehensive edge to her voice then, hastily: “have a good one.”

“You too,” Cas says. He thinks about following her out, trying to explain. He thinks about texting Sam and Dean.

The slushie machine makes a mechanical crunching sound and suddenly there’s red goop all over the ground.

Joanna starts yelling and runs for the mop. He goes to unplug the machine and gets sticky pink syrup all over his last clean pair of pants. The ghost slips his mind.

Two days later Dean shows up by himself. It’s 6:43 in the morning on a Tuesday.

Cas has been finished with work for fifteen minutes already but there’s a rush at the end of his shift so he says on to help Javier and Kendra out. It’s mostly people stopping for gas on their way to work, or truckers picking up breakfast before heading back on the road. He doesn’t mind sticking around in the mornings, everyone’s usually too tired to be angry and it’s a nice break from the drunks and the sad eyed kids he usually meets on overnights. The extra money doesn’t hurt, either.

Cas doesn’t notice Dean until he’s placing two coffees on the counter in front of them.

His first words are a surprised, “Oh, hello Dean. Where’s Sam?” Which makes Dean huff, and shift from one foot to the other.

“Not here,” he says, then points at the coffee closest to Cas, “That one’s for you. Milk, no sugar still, right?” Cas nods. He knows this is Dean Speak for an apology. He can feel Javier and Kendra look over at them from behind the other register and the cigarette display, respectively.

Dean smiles, all charm but Cas can tell his face looks a little more drawn than usual, like he’d been driving for too long without a break, “You get off work soon?”

Kendra answers for him, “Yes, he does.” She has a maternal look on her face when Cas turns to her. Javier rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything.

“Shoo,” she says, with a smile. She points at the slogan on his uniform shirt, “Go have a sunny day, James.”

Dean nods, “Yeah, James. Have a sunny day.” There’s that smile again.

Cas closes out his register and gets his coat from the back room. Dean’s waiting for him outside, drinking his coffee and leaning against the Impala. The lighting is the soft grey-blue of the morning, and it feels nice compared to the white fluorescents of the store.

Before Cas can say anything Dean scrubs at the back of his neck, then says, “This coffee tastes like piss. Let’s get breakfast.”

There’re a few diners in town but Cas has never been to any of them. Dean picks one on a whim, because the sign has a 1950’s pinup girl in a skimpy waitress uniform.

It’s warm inside and smells nice, like syrup and strong coffee. Dean orders something called The Lumberjack Platter and when Cas tells the waitress, “Just coffee, thanks” Dean overrides it and orders him scrambled eggs with a side of sausage and toast.

“My treat,” Dean says. Cas shakes his head but doesn’t fight him on it.

Dean avoids talking about anything personal. Instead they mostly chat about the case Sam and Dean are currently working on. Apparently they’ve hit a wall with the research and Sam’s been holed up at the bunker for days pouring over blueprints and hacked security footage. There’s a cursed object in a locked bank vault in Little Rock that’s making people have violent outbursts. The questions are: why did it start acting up now, which lock box it’s in, and how to get to it.

Cas wishes he could still fly, then at least he’d be able to solve two of their problems. He runs the idea of trying to find a spell to make the object useless by Dean and Dean types it into his phone to send to Sam. A moment later it lights up with a call but Dean mutes it and sticks the phone back in his pocket.

Dean changes subjects and tells him about the latest Dr. Sexy storyline, about a vampire nest he took out a few years back, about running into Garth in Topeka. Cas talks about the gas station a bit but mostly just listens. He always likes listening to Dean talk.

When they leave the diner and get back into the Impala, Cas realizes this is the first time he’s enjoyed himself in a long while. He smiles over at Dean, expecting to be asked where he’d like to be dropped off. He’s thinking about the park by the river on the far side of town, it’s a long walk back to the truck stop but he likes to watch the trees shift in the wind and the fresh air there is a nice change from diesel fumes. Instead Dean says, “You still don’t got a place to stay right?”

Cas nods cautiously. He puts his hand on Dean’s upper arm and, not willing to let the day go south, says sternly, “I assure you Dean, while I’m not strictly an angel anymore I still don’t need nearly as much rest as you or Sam do…”

Dean nods at the steering wheel, his jaw moving. Cas can tell he’s also trying to not turn this into a fight.

Dean shifts towards him, Cas keeps his hand firmly on Dean’s arm. The energy in the car changes and suddenly Cas realizes where this is going. Dean puts one hand on his waist and the other comes to rest on Cas’ neck behind his ear. Cas breathes in sharply.

“Dean,” he says, then he broaches the subject he’d been painstakingly avoiding all morning: “Why did you come here today?”

Dean blushes and goes still for a moment, he swallows but doesn’t say anything. After a moment tugs him in gently and Cas takes pity on him. Dean tastes like maple syrup.

It’d been a while since they’d done this, but they fall back into it easily. After a few moments of kissing Dean pulls back. Their foreheads and noses are still touching and they’re breathing hard.

“What I was trying to say was, uh,” his ears get red at the tips, “that I got a room at that Budget Motel by the gas station.”

All Cas can think of to reply is, “Oh, I’d like to see it.”

It makes Dean laugh and wiggle his eyebrows.

“Yeah, yeah wanna come up and see my art collection?” He says. Cas doesn’t know what he’s talking about but he likes that Dean keeps his hand on his thigh while they drive.

By the time Cas wakes up for his next shift Dean is gone. There’s a text on his phone that says Sam finally had his breakthrough based on something Cas had said. Then a second one that tells Cas the room is paid through till the end of the week. He can stay in it or not, doesn’t matter to Dean one way or the other. A third one that just says: Thanks.

Cas lays in bed for a moment enjoying the soft sheets and suddenly remembers the ghost.

++++++++++

Thanks for reading :)

#spn #supernatural #destiel #deancas #Dean Winchester/Castiel #supernatural fanfic #my fic #dean winchester #castiel

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mohdeep237 · 4 years ago

Text

I never knew how quickly the world could fall apart, not until today.

“Breaking news, an asteroid bigger than the moon is hurtling towards Earth--”

“Scientist by the name of Andy Stevenson invents first ever human compatible exoskeleton--”

“It is said that the asteroid may contain a certain specimen of bacteria closely resembling the organic structure of a virus--”

“Andy Stevenson has made Earth’s first extraterrestrial defense system comprised of fully automated defense robots--”

“An interview with a local from hometown of famous Andy Stevenson is on now- ‘Them killer bots will end us all! That bastard only wants destruction! Heed my warning! He’s crazy! He’ll kill you and your whole fami-’ Well, that’s, um, not quite what we expected--”

“This just in, the asteroid has hit Earth--First contact in Russi--Earth is on the verge of--How will we surv--”

Chapter 1

It has been five years since the asteroid made contact. We now call that event “The Turn”. The supposed virus that was on the asteroid turned out to be deadly, however, not in a deadly kind of way. Once you get infected, your brain shuts down after a couple days, but you don't die. The virus makes sure you don't die so that it can live inside you. If you happen to come into skin-on-skin contact with one, you’ll be infected immediately, but the effects will still take a couple days to begin. It doesn’t control you or anything, it just makes you stand there in a lifeless state, and those who are infected for long enough start trekking along the land, searching for more bodies to infect. Basically the longer you are infected, the more rabid zombie-like you become. However, if you were to get one’s attention, you’d be attacked on the spot.

As for how the world is doing, I’d say pretty terribly. The UN have decided to make designated “Quarantine Zones”. They’re basically huge cities that are protected by fifty meter concrete walls, and within those walls are defense robots by, you guessed it, the “world famous” Andy Stevenson. Nobody really likes him, in fact, most of us want him dead. There’s concrete evidence of shady dealings and corruption within his company, but they ignore these details and secretly kill anyone who goes against them. How do I know? Because that’s how my parents died three years ago.

My parents had a baby boy when they were in their twenties, which happens to be me. They were really outgoing people and they loved me a lot, as I really loved them. My parents always seemed to be fighting for the right cause wherever they went and I wanted to be just like them. They had been put in life and death situations before and lived to tell the tale, but it seems that their luck had run out this time, and I was there to watch it. Those damn robots, said to be for any “alien activity”, turns out that old man was right, they are for destroying us instead. That madman only cares about his wealth.

As for me, I am now twenty-one years old with semi wavy medium length black hair, dark brown eyes, I am about six feet tall, I have a light beard going on and what young hipsters would call a “killer moustache”. I live alone in a one bedroom apartment in the Vancouver QZ (quarantine zone).

Unfortunately, the only way to make some decent money in this place is to work with the government, either in an office job or on duty as an officer. The job ain’t that bad considering the benefits, but it’s still considered working for that lunatic Stevenson. Most people in the officer position praise Stevenson like he’s their god, but there are a few of us here that really hate his guts. It’s only a matter of time before we make a move.

Chapter 2

I started on my way to check in at work when I was caught off guard by Jimmy, a co-officer of mine. Jimmy has light brown hair that was just about an inch off his head and has bright blue eyes. He’s just a tad bit shorter than me, which I nag him about everytime I start losing an argument to him. “Hey Dean! Over here!” he hollered, as he does every morning at work. I get closer to him, “Would it kill you not to yell every time I get here?”

“Hey man, can’t tell me how to be a friend.”

“Right, whatever you say,” I say, trying to prevent him from being a megaphone any longer. “Hey,” I whisper, “Have you seen Kate by any chance?”

“Man I’m telling you, just give up on her dude. She’s way out of your league.”

“I know, I know, but I can’t help but try. Maybe she’ll give me a chance?”

“That is if you even ask her, chicken”

“Don’t taunt me, it’s not like you’ve got a girlfriend. You’re as much of a loser as I am.”

We begin to enter the check in point which is around fifty feet away. In the slight distance we see a metal fence topped with barbed wire, and within that fence was two gates, one lets vehicles in and out, the other solely for people. We go through the gate and check in to work. As we walk into the waiting area I see, out of the corner of my eye, a stunning woman with silky dark hair, deep brown eyes, and the most gorgeous smile. Kate.

She looks beautiful as always, I think to myself.

Just as we settle in, the general shows up. I would talk to her more often if she didn’t look so scary with that scar across her cheek . “Alright then, let’s make this quick. I haven’t had my coffee and am in the need of some serious rest.” she said firmly, nearly everything she says is said in that “hardcore general” kind of voice, it’s another point that makes her so scary.

The general continued to list names of the people in groups and where they were going out to patrol today. “And finally, Dean Wood, Jim Smith, Kate Williams, you’re patrolling the west in sector A5,” said the general in a gruff voice.

Yes, I get to patrol with Kate! I think to myself.

“Hey, we get to patrol together!” Jimmy says, practically screaming in my ear.

“Yeah, woohoo.” I reply, almost too sarcastically. Kate walks over.

“Looks I’m with you guys,” she says in that sweet angelic voice.

“Yeah, glad to patrol with you again” I say.

Me and Kate have spoken to each other quite often, especially while being in the same patrol group, but there’s never really been anything special between us.

“Well let’s get going,” Jimmy says as he nudges us towards the supply unit.

We each put on light, but highly protective, metal gear and hook up high tech exoskeletons which enhance our every action that are made by, the one and only, Andy Stevenson. As much as I hate to admit it, he does make some quality combat gear, plus he does fund the military so I guess I should expect us to be able to use such powerful technology. We also take a couple weapons and ammo with us to ward off or just eliminate any infected we might see along the way. I grab my usual shotgun, long-range rifle (basically a sniper but they won't count it as one), and my trusty revolver. They don't understand why I take the revolver instead of the regular pistol that can shoot more at a time and more quickly at that, but I've always had a special connection to it. My father used to teach me how to use it and it just seemed so cool to me so maybe that’s why. Once we finish gearing up, we head to one of the jeeps and climb in. Sector A5 is about fifteen minutes away, but with Kate here too it’ll feel like just a few for me.

We arrive at the patrol area in just short of the time we would normally. Maybe it’s because of the complete lack of traffic and road laws during the apocalypse. I’ve been in this area once before, there are plazas filled with stores on all sides of an intersection. Just means more places for the infected to be lurking. We get off the jeep and start the patrol. All three of us walk together making sure that we are covering each other's backs. One usually doesn’t see many infected while on patrol, maybe three or four. The highest I’ve seen on patrol is eight. They aren’t too hard to kill, given that you can shoot quite well and can aim for the head, but the more there are the more dangerous the situation becomes. That’s why we go in groups of three, for complete safety.

We start checking inside buildings to make sure none are hidden.

“Let’s split up, it’ll make this much faster,” Jimmy proposes.

“What about the ‘safety in numbers’ thing?” I ask concerningly.

“Yeah, shouldn’t we just stick together and stay safe?” said Kate.

Yes! Kate agreed with me!

“We haven’t seen one infected this whole time, plus it means we can go home sooner,” Jimmy argued, and to be honest, it was a good argument. I did want to go back. The sooner we got back in the jeep, the sooner I could focus on Kate’s beauty.

“Fine, but don’t take too long. And if something happens shoot a flare into the sky. Make sure the flare is red.” I say. We all agree and go off to patrol alone.

I head to a supermarket because I feel it would take the most time. I head inside and start looking around. It’s solely lit by the sunlight outside which gives it a dark, ominous look inside. Nearly all the shelves are empty.

I guess people were getting desperate to survive huh.

As I walk further in, I start hearing some kind of deep noise. The noise grows louder and louder as I go more and more into the supermarket. I turn the corner into a big open area and I see tens, no, hundreds of infected just standing there.

Where did they all come from?

I instinctively take a step back, but my foot knocks over an empty can. It clangs as it hits the ground. One of the turns and looks up at me. I panic and fire a flare into the glass ceiling and start to run. The infected don’t take long to realize I'm there and start to chase me. I rush for the exit and I see Kate at the entrance.

“Hey, are you done in there?” she asks.

“Run!” I yell, “Go, go! Run for it Kate! Too many infected!”

She didn’t seem to understand until she saw the massive crowd of infected chasing after me. She bolted right away and yelled for Jimmy to start the jeep. Jimmy quickly understood and put the jeep in gear. Kate got in and looked at me.

“Come on Dean! Let’s get out of here!” She yells.

“By the time he gets here we’ll be overrun by infected,” Jimmy says.

“We can’t just leave him there.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll start driving just fast enough so he can catch up and we can make it out of here alive.”

“As long as we get Dean.”

They start driving onto the road while I’m running as fast as I can to make it in time.

I have to make it. If I don’t they’ll have to drive off leaving me to…

No, that won’t happen. I will make it.

I desperately try to run and make it to the jeep.

I just need to get close enough for someone to pull me onto the jeep.

The hoard of infected just keeps getting closer and closer, louder and louder.

The jeep is starting to pick up the pace. I need to hurry if I want to make it back alive and well.

“Dean! Grab my hand!” Kate yells as she reaches out to me. “Hurry Dean! There’s a tight corner we have to turn in fifty meters, if you don’t catch up you won’t make it!”

I try to be faster, faster than I’ve ever been. My legs are starting to get tired. My heart is beating rapidly. I’m slowly running out of breath. I run and I run, trying to get just close enough for Kate to reach my hand. I’ve always wanted to hold her hand, but I never considered it to be like this.

I reach out my hand and desperately try to grab Kate’s. I can start to feel the infected trying to grasp me as well, I even hear their hands slipping off of the armor that I’m wearing.

“Jump Dean!” Kate cries. I desperately try to get my tired legs off the ground as one last ditch attempt to save myself now.

Then the jeep turns the corner.

Chapter 3

#story ideas #apocalypse #action #adventure

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daughters-and-winsisters · 5 years ago

Text

Huntress- Part 24: Loss

Sam x Daughter!Reader, takes place in S12 E23 so warning:SPOILERS

Part one Part two Part three Part four Part five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen Part Fourteen Part Fifteen Part Sixteen Part Seventeen Part Eighteen Part Nineteen Part Twenty Part Twenty One Part Twenty Two Part Twenty Three

A/N: There will be one more part after this in the Huntress series

“Okay so let me get this straight, we beat the Brits, kick their smug, tea-swirling asses -no offence Y/N- and instead of finally catching a break we get Lucifer?!” Uncle Dean sighed, pacing about the bunker while you sat with your Dad and Mary. You looked up from your mug of tea, glaring at him over the rim before turning your attention to the photographs your Dad had printed. “You’re sure that’s him?” Mary asked. “Yeah I’m sure.” Dad nodded, not looking at them for too long. It was Lucifer, alright. “In his old vessel?” You asked. “Yeah...”“How’s that possible?” Mary took a photograph from the table and studied it. “Kelly I guess...” Dad shrugged. “So what do we do?” You said, putting your tea down and sitting back in your chair. “Well,” Dad cleared his throat, “Rowena can slam Lucifer back in the cage.” “Great,” said Mary, “where is she?”

Dad picked up his phone almost immediately, standing up from the table as he did so. You all watched in anticipation as he held the phone to his ear. He rose his head, his eyes pacing the room. He then breathed a sharp breath and looked to Uncle Dean who shot him a frown: “What?” Dad put the phone on speaker and held it up so you could all hear.

Then came a voice: “Oh and if you’re looking for Rowena she is presently indisposed which is a delicate way of saying I stomped on her face till the white meat showed and then stomped on her face just in case,” Lucifers voice sounded as smug as usual, “uh...it was messy. Screamy. Had to be done, though. I’m about to be a Dad! Can’t raise a kid from a cell, can I? Speaking of, any idea where Castiel is?” “Go to hell.” Dad snapped. “Oh good one! Let me write that down.” “Look-“ Dean cleated his throat, but was interrupted. “Oh, hey Dean! I know I know you guys are gonna want to kill me but you’ve never done it and you never will. Especially now Rowena is gone,” he paused, but none of you had anything to say, “catch you guys later!”

You all fell silent with the phone, aware he was right, but not wanting to admit it.You sucked it up and spoke, “He’s got a point.” Dad threw you a look you couldn’t quite read, but composed himself and said, “Okay, so we just have to keep Cas and Kelly moving. Lucifer can’t hurt them if he can’t find them.” “And Cas will go along with that?” Mary asked, sounding unconvinced. “We won’t give him a choice.” Uncle Dean said sternly. You frowned with concern, “What he means is we’ll figure something out by talking it through with them.” You corrected, not willing to make any more causes for tension. “Right.” Dad nodded. “How do we find them?” Mary turned to your Dad. “There will be signs: locust plagues, freak storms things like that.” “Okay so we’re looking for something weird.” Mary said unenthusiastically. “Story of our lives.” Uncle Dean huffed.

——————

You all sat back around the table, researching on phones and laptops to find anything weird. “What about this?” Uncle Dean held up a news report about a three-headed calf being born. You chuckled, “Poor mother.” which made him cringe. “Not biblical.” Dad muttered, not looking up from his tablet.

“You rang?” Crowley spoke up from now where, appearing at the table. Before you could even take him in, Uncle Dean launched himself at him, punching him square in the jaw and sending him flying. “Did you do it?!” Uncle Dean shouted, holding a demon-blade to his throat, “Did you let Lucifer out of the cage?” “I didn’t let-“ “Tell me!” Uncle Dean pushed, shaking Crowley by the collar. “Dean, wait! Don’t kill him.” Dad put a hand out. “Seriously?” Mary raised an eyebrow. “He wrote the cage spell with Rowena,” you nodded in understanding, “he could help.” “What if he can’t?” Mary asked, eager to put an end to Crowley. “Well then we kill him.” Dad said, making Crowley’s eyes widen as Uncle Dean loosened his grip.

Crowley stood himself up when Uncle Dean let go, patting his coat down. He swivelled his head a little and cleared his throat, aware you were all waiting for what he had to say and making the most of that small amount of control. “I put Lucifer in a vessel of my own making. I had to win. Too damn many people have been after my throne. I put the Devil on a leash to show everyone not to mess with me.” Crowley explained. “Worked out well.” Uncle Dean scoffed. “And then I narrowly escaped death,” Crowley paused and eyed you all, “by hiding in a rat.” “Must have been nice being clean for a change.” You remarked, earning a smirk from the others. “Gave me a break from my work,” Crowley continued, ignoring your comment, “made me realise just how much I hate it. The constant stupid questions the mountains and mountains of paperwork, who wants that? Not me. Not anymore.” “So you decided to hide in a rodent?” Mary asked. “I placed my bets. The Winchester’s come out on top. And I can help, after we put Lucifer in the cage I’ll seal the gates and you’ll never see another demon again...except me, of course. Do we have a deal?” You looked to your Dad who you could see was thinking it through, analysing the pros and cons in his mind. Uncle Dean looked as suspicious as always, but Mary was harder to read. “Okay, fine. But you stay here and you keep quiet.” Uncle Dean lurched forward and slammed a demon blade into Crowley’s hand. It pierced through his skin and into the table, holding his arm in place. Crowley grunted and scowled, watching as you all stood up to gather your things.

Your Dad gave you the same look and you realised he wanted you to stay back. You sighed to yourself, waiting till Mary and Uncle Dean had left the room. Dad gave you a tight smile before saying what you’d been expecting, “I need you to stay back.” He placed an arm gently on your back and guided you to where Crowley could no longer see or hear.

You shuffled on your feet and attempted to find something convincing or witty to say, but you just stayed quiet with your eyes fixed on the floor. “Y/N, I need you to be safe. Make sure Crowley doesn’t get up to anything.” “How many times are we gonna have these conversations?” You asked, “How many times do I have to save your ass or let you save mine before you realise I’m a Hunter too?” “That’s not what I meant-“ “I’m not giving up on the last hurdle, Dad.” “It’s just with your powers and everything, we don’t know what’ll happen. I can’t risk you being in more danger because we don’t take them seriously.“ “Do you want me to sit around and panic because I don’t know if I’ll see my family again? You want me to spend the rest of my life knowing I could’ve helped or died trying to save them if only I’d have come with you all?” “We don’t plan on dying.“ “And I don’t plan on waiting to find out if you do,” your voice went quiet and your eyes teared up, “I’m sick of people not coming back.“ Dad’s expression and stance softened, he let out a sigh and gently wrapped his arms around your frame. Placing a kiss on the top of your head, he gently rubbed your upper arm with his thumb.“Okay,” he nodded against you, “but you be careful.”

——————

The drive was quiet, everyone consumed by their own thoughts of what might happen. Mary seemed restless, loading and unloading and then reloading her gun in the seat next to you. Dad didn’t look away from the window the entire time, careful not to miss anything, just in case. Uncle Dean watched the road and played no music. And you, you watched the three of them, wondering how you’d ended up here. If anyone had told you a few years back that you’d be driving with your Dad, Uncle and Grandma to a house where there’s an angel helping the presidents girlfriend to have her half-human, half-angel, son-of-Lucifer child you would have laughed in their face. And yet there you were.

When you pulled up outside the house you couldn’t help but admire the scenery despite the situation. It was one of those American lakehouses from the films, with little wooden steps outside and a bungalow-type house just sat comfortably amongst the greenery. The sort of building that should look out of place, but it just works. But, this wasn’t the time to sit and stare, so you got out of the car, noticing how Uncle Dean had almost made it to the door by the time you were out. You followed on, seeing Cas in his usual attire look astonished at your arrival.

“Dean?” Cas said in shock, glancing at the rest of you before turning his attention back to Uncle Dean. “Look, Cas, is this place heavily warded?” “Of course.” “Enough to ward of Lucifer?” Dad added. “Lucifer?” Cas echoed with wide eyes. “Look, you and Kelly taking off was a stupid move. There’s no way Lucifer can get his hands on that kid.” Dad said sternly. “Kelly can’t be moved, she’s in labour.” Cas explained, accompanied by Kelly crying out in pain. Mary turned her head to where the noise had come from and stumbled over her words, “I’ll go make sure she’s okay.”

“How much time do we have?” Cas asked, turning back to look at you. “We don’t know.” You shrugged. Dean then groaned in pain, doubling over as he held his bad knee. “Wait, Dean, let me.” Cas began to heal Dean, but something else caught your eye and a low hum of whispers surrounded your thoughts. A bright shining light, as though a line had been cut through the Earth was stood up on its end just outside. And, as insane as it sounded, it was calling to you. The whispers were seemingly nonsense, inaudible syllables of a dead language, but they were definitely calling you.

You felt your head pulsate with some sort of energy and began to walk towards the light. It was shining and had some movement.

Footsteps sounded as they came to see what you were looking at. Dad and Uncle Dean took a step back and Dad put a hand on your shoulder as though he knew what he was protecting you from. The moment his hand touched you the voices left and it was just a light, no sound came from it. “What is it?” You stammered, glancing back to Cas, but finding your eyes unable to look away. “It’s a rip in time and space.” Cas explained. “Like a doorway?” You asked, taking another step forward and ignoring your Dads hold on you. Sure enough, the sounds came back. Perhaps because you were much closer they became louder, an endless chorus that rebounded inside your mind. You could still hear everything else, but it felt secondary. “B-Be careful.” Dad said in vain as you circled the light. “Exactly like a doorway. Only to an alternate reality.” Cas replies. “Where did it come from?” You said, unsure if the words came out right as you could only just hear your own voice. “Well with the nephilim being brought into the world there’s been an abundance of cosmic energies. The odd rip is bound to happen.”

As though your feet had decided before your mind, you found yourself walking towards the rip, the faint shouts of Dad in your ear as you passed through.

——————

You were met with a grey landscape, bodies scattered about the place in the same way leaves are in the autumn. There were areas where smoke was rising from a bundle of twigs. The floor was a harsh sandy texture, no doubt consisting of rubble and decaying parts of the Earth. But, before you could properly take in the place, you felt your powers. You felt them the same way you had done when you’d gotten angry or when you saved Uncle Dean in the tunnel. Only this time it wasn’t a surge of energy that was gone before you could properly grasp it. Instead, it was a continuous level of something and it was powerful. It felt as though you’d finally understood how to control what these were. You rose your fingers, concentrating on a cloud of smoke. As you danced your hand around the smoke followed suit, putting itself out as you rubbed your finger tips together. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Y/N!” Dad hissed, making you drop your smile and lower your hand, “what the hell were you thinking?!” “Sorry...” You looked down, not sure whether to mention what had happened. You coughed a little and decided to keep quiet, after all, it didn’t seem like the time.

“This Earth is caught in an eternal war between heaven and hell with few humans left behind,” Cas explained, “the child opened this door and he can close it. I have faith.” “Well then you’re a dumbass.” Uncle Dean scoffed before jumping into action, “Guys!” He pointed to where a small number of people were headed towards you. They were heavily armed.Dad and Uncle Dean aimed their guns, but you just watched. Cas held his arms up, “Stop. Don’t shoot.” One man who was a few feet ahead of the others came to a halt, he lowered his face cover and tilted his head. You looked to Uncle Dean who immediately lowered his gun. With a shocked face he stammered, “Bobby?” “Do I know you?” The man grumbled. “Bobby,” Dad said in awe, “it’s us. Sam and Dean. Winchester.” You remembered your Dad mentioning a Bobby before, Bobby Singer. Any time he came up in conversation they spoke as though he raised them, as though he’d be proud of them if he could see them now. “Winchester?” This Bobby repeated in thought, “the only Winchester I ever knew was John.“ “Yeah our father.” Uncle Dean pushed. “Doubt it. He died 40 years ago,” he looked at you suspiciously, “you don’t get many kids round here. Take care of her.” “She can take care of herself, thanks.” You remarked. “Good.” He said, his tone making it hard to tell if it was a compliment or not. You decided to take it as one. “The hell is this place?” Dad turned to Cas. Cas sighed, “This is Earth where you two were never born. A world you never saved.”

——————

Going back through the door to your world wasn’t as simple as coming through, at least, not for you it wasn’t. The moment you came into contact with the rip the voices flooded your mind and you clutched your head in pain. They were no longer calling you to come, but to stay. With every step they became angrier and louder and you could feel the blood throbbing in your brain and chest as you began to sway. They screamed in your mind, clawing away at you in a desperate attempt to keep you in that otherworld. You could just about see your world and with one last burst of effort, you stumbled through and fell faint. You woke to the house empty. Not just of people, but of furniture and sound and colour. It was empty. Rising from the cold floorboards, you pulled the hair from covering your eyes.

The crunch of footsteps along the stone path sounded, making you jump into action as you followed the sound. “Dad?” You called, your voice shaking a little as you turned the corner. It was’t Dad...you’d come face to face with Lucifer. And he was smiling right at you. You gulped and took a step back, aware there were no weapons on you. “Wh-“ You paused, not sure what to say. “Well,” he said, “this is a fun surprise. I gotta hand it to you guys you never give up. Even when you really should.” You frowned a little at the use of “guys”, but spoke anyway, “What do you want?” He chuckled,” You’re right. What should I do? Oh God don’t strike me down! Sam, you gotta stop with the lines.” “What?” You said in confusion, starting to wonder if he had lost it. You turned around to check the others weren’t behind you, and sure enough you were greeted with the same cold and empty house. “Start with the classics.” He shrugged, turning to face someone who should’ve been beside you.

You took a piece of courage and walked right in front of him, “Hey!” He didn’t even blink. You let out a chuckle in spite of yourself, giving him the middle finger, partly to test if he could see you, but mostly because it was a good opportunity. “Well boys, enough of the foreplay. Let’s do this.” He threw an arm up as though casting his powers onto someone, his arm going straight through you. Your smirk fell from your face when you felt his power shaking through your bones. “Real mature,” He tutted, starting to walk to the side of the house, “look boys I’m on the clock, haven’t got all day.” You watched him go, more focused than before, quickly following after him. When you’d reached the corner the rip in time was back, but no voices accompanied it’s presence. “The fuck...” You muttered, following him through.

As you did you were back in the apocalypse-world. “Interesting.” You said, still chasing after the Devil. “Sammy, hey! Where’s your big bro?” Lucifer asked the air. You tried to follow what was going on, but that was too difficult when you could only see or hear one of them. However, it seemed like you had a pretty good grasp of powers in this world. And, this was Lucifer. He had no idea you were there. If this wasn’t an opportunity, then what the hell was? You jumped, taken away from your thoughts, when Lucifer began to shake and stumble backwards. His chest was filled with bullet holes but no bullets appeared to be there. You realised this meant he was winning. Which also meant your family was in danger.

You concentrated hard, willing with all your might, and launched yourself at the devil, your hand turning to a fist as you braced for impact. Instead of his face, you hit the floor straight on and let out a groan. Your hand twisted a little as you did so, spraining the wrist and sending jolts of pain up your arm. “Well shit,” you grumbled, wincing as you pulled yourself off the ground, “let’s try that again.” Lucifer began to move forward and began hitting and punching and kicking someone. “Come on, Dean!” He shouted aggravatingly.

This time you felt of your Dad’s fear, your Uncle’s anger and Cas’ protection over this child. You felt Mary’s desperation to keep her boys safe and you felt your eagerness to show everyone you were capable. You let out a cry and with all your power you pelted the devil square in the face. “Shit!” You shouted on impact, feeling the sprain scream along your hand and arm. You rubbed the wrist with your other hand and watched as Lucifer stumbled in pure shock.

He spoke up after composing himself, “Woah! Who’s this?!” Dean must have been just as confused as he continued by saying, “No seriously who is this?” You smiled and went for a kick to the stomach, making him double over as he did so. Without a dominant hand you went for the shins and the crotch. This had to be buying them time at the very least, right? You felt your powers grow and grow. A surge of energy manifested into lightening as they began to strike down on Lucifer, targeting him and his surroundings.You felt the impact of them on the ground, rumbling the landscape as they crashed into the rubble. Lucifer scrambled to his feet and looked around to try and locate you. You let your pride take over and just a flicker of reality flashed in front of you. The lightening ceased and you caught a glimpse of Dean who turned his attention to you in amazement. You felt Lucifer’s glare on you. But Dean was gone again and so were you. “Y/N?” Lucifer called as he turned to try and find you again, “I saw you! As in Sam’s little baby girl? Well I gotta say this is impressive. You pack quite a punch.” He began to move about the place as if surveying for another glimpse of wherever you were. You moved from where you had been, careful not to abuse your powers to the point where you show yourself again. Through no doing of your own, Lucifer fell to the floor with a flash of red that reminded you of the alarms of the bunker. To your suprise, he chuckled, “Crowley!” You sighed in relief and backed away, realising they were going to seal the doorway. Crowley must have almost completed the spell by now. “Come on Crowley, you realise whatever you try you’re gonna lose.” Lucifer smirked. Just as he said this Crowley appeared in your vision, making you jump back in suprise. His body flashed and collapsed to the ground. You noticed from his stance, realising he must have stabbed himself with the demon-blade. He lay still and Lucifer, for once, looked as shocked as you.

You tore tour eyes from the body, remembering the plan to lock Lucifer in, and raced to the light in time to get back. You felt the warmth and energy of the doorway as you ran through it’s break in space.

—————— You gasped, sitting up in panic and breathing heavy. “Y/N? Hey, you okay?” Mary called, she was sat with Kelly in the bed next to you. Kelly has sweat pouring down her forehead and was screaming in pain. You winced sympathetically before jumping from the bed, managing a nod to them as you raced to where the light was. Your head throbbed and your hand felt swollen and bruised, but you had to make sure they made it back. You watched as Dad and Uncle Dean staggered out of the other-world. Their eyes fell on you, your Dad racing over the moment he caught his balance. “Hey, hey. You okay?” “How the hell did you do that?” Uncle Dean asked, but you couldn’t even begin to describe it. “...Not sure.” You admitted, watching where the light was fading and unable to look away. Cas appeared just then, breathing heavily and bruised.

Before anyone could react a hand shot from out of the rip, sending an angel-blade straight into Cas’ chest. “No!” Uncle Dean shouted in panic. You gasped, tears forming in your eyes as you watched your friend fall to the floor. Lucifer was stood proudly behind him. Cas was limp and lifeless. You saw Mary appear at your sides in your peripheral vision and reluctantly looked away from Cas. Mary threw you a sad smile before turning to each of you. .“I love you.” She said, taking her last look. Then you realised what she was going to do.

Just as the light began to flicker away, Mary grabbed hold of Lucifer by the collar and shoved him back through the doorway, taking herself with him. “Mom!” Dad and Uncle Dean cried, sprinting after her. You watched as the light faded away to nothing, leaving behind a seamless landscape as though it was never there. The two of them halted in front of where it had been, unable to doing anything. Dad composed himself as much as he could and ran back to the house, no doubt to check on Kelly. You watched with teary eyes as your Uncle fell to his knees over his friend, his back hunched in mourning. “De?” You whispered gingerly, taking a step towards where he knelt. “Don’t,” he snapped, not even looking up from Cas’ lifeless body, “just go.” Your feet began to backtrack and a few tears fell down your cheeks, but you couldn’t leave him like that. Even if he told you to. Instead, you knelt down next to him, resting your head on his shoulder and softly whispering, “No.” Uncle Dean turned and glared at you, but his eyes began to water and his lip trembled. He saw the tears running down your crestfallen face and let his tough gaze soften away to honesty. With a helpless breath in, he softly sighed, wrapped his arms around you, pulled you in close and rested his chin gently on the top of your head as he tried not to shake.

Part 25 (The End)

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