#family fluff series

[acid-ixx]

tell your baby, that i'm your baby. (a loving family, an unpalatable desire drabble)

ft. yandere damian wayne x gn! neglected spouse reader x yandere superfam

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

— masterlist !

this is written in regards to one of my drabbles, i can't help but sigh at just how good the angst is for damian in this series.

because in loving family, unpalatable desire, you pretty much exclusively nickname him "dami, baby," from day one right after meeting him. you say it not in a way that you wish to overstep your boundaries at simply being his stepparent - you're aware, despite the ache in your chest admitting it, that you'll never come quite close to talia's standing in his heart, it's simply impossible with how she raised him her entire life before being dropped off in bruce's care - but because you find the boy adorable if you look past his intent at trying to murder you at every passing glance.

or maybe it's just you trying to cope with the pain of your situation, that you consider them all your beloved children, yet never being once called their parent throughout your entire marriage that breaks apart the illusion of a happy home life, that this wasn't the marriage you wanted at all; that you'll never bear a time in your life stuck in the manor seeing their genuine smiles directed at you even if you attempt to approach as patiently as possible in hopes your presence might be accepted— even if it results in awkward laughs at your cringy jokes at the dinner table, or one of damian's weapons nearly plunging the side of your head.

maybe, it's such a struggle to keep the flicker of light alive in your body whenever all your hardships fail, and all throughout you find your husband with lipstick stains all over his white collar every time he comes home that your mind forces itself to believe that with enough trial and error, maybe one of them could eventually tolerate, rather than pity you.

unfortunately, you chose damian, the one who you're convinced arguably despises you the most, of all people living or visiting the manor to run the test.

so in all the instances you chirp out his nickname, so fondly, so eminently heard across the walls of the manor, even in the spacious expanse of the gardens could your voice be heard from miles away, all because you wish to bond with him, praising his artworks with your grating voice, to give him intricate gifts you know will be discarded in the trash in front of you; you'll be met with a stubborn glare and mean comments about how he'll never consider you his parent, to relinquish your delusions at thinking he'll even let you past his walls, and how he'll never follow through the orders of a scum like you.

which is what you're forced to deal with every single day, coupled with harsh reminders of their happiness without the need for your presence beside them.

sometimes, his reactions could be his typical harsh comments, you've grown accustomed enough to differentiate what is harmless and what borders on violence; it's enough to know when to stop bothering him despite your best efforts. other times, it would be as intense as running a sword through the strands of your hair until he chops it at the end with a threat to cut off your tongue right after if you dare call him that putrid nickname again that cuts deeper than any wound.

with every trial of becoming closer to him, results in an even widening crack in your relationship with the young boy. and eventually, with enough sighs under your breath and harsh glares from him, you'll come into terms that you'll never form a cordial bond with the young boy. it's just impossible with how he views you, sheltered and undeserving because of your family's reputation of being money laundering scum.

at that period of time, you instead chose to strengthen your relationship with the reporter who saved you one day from the paparazzi's cruel interviews, the cute man from the daily planet whose name is clark kent with an even more adorable son, jon, who welcomed you with open arms and a tight hug on your stomach, muttering about how he's so excited to meet his new parent, just when you first stepped on the doors of your affair partner's home; that was enough to relinquish any anguish you felt at the manor replaced with absolute joy at what seems to be the first time you're considered the parent, part of a family, in a completely different household.

it helps erase the shadow of doubt that you may be cursed to never be accepted into an established family with just how bright, how comparable jon was to an overexcitable golden retriever, bonding with you since day one unlike all the other insufferable moments crammed into a jam-packed dinner table— only for your voice to be discarded and overpowered by others.

you start to call him your baby instead, completely in awe at the cute freckles littering his sun-kissed skin and the country boy accent he adopted from his dad. you couldn't help but hold his cheeks in your palms and kiss all over his face whilst you kneel to his level, laughing along with the giggles erupting from his throat that creates this harmonious melody in clark's ears, who watches you scoop the boy into your arms just to swing him back and forth in cuteness aggression, just how it always should've been with you.

clark pictures the moment together, capturing jon's smooshed face shadowed by your hair whilst you look at his, no, your son with inexplicable joy, eyes crinkled and shining brightly under the halo of the sunset.

and clark doesn't even have to see just much jon loves and cherishes you at first glance.

he wouldn't even dare compare you to his late mother, never once calling you a replacement or a homewrecker, placing you upon a pedestal you deserve to be instead; because let's face it, you simply live in the manor, but your true home is where clark and jon, and ma and pa kent are at. pictures of your little family are framed in your shared bedroom for you to graze your finger upon whenever you wish to reminisce the blessings bestowed upon meeting your affair partner at just by chance.

but you shouldn't have forgotten about damian that quickly, not when jon all-too suddenly shoves that photo of you in his wallet in front of his face, it made damian's mind go off in a tangent, in both curiosity and frustated yet unstated interrogations at your sudden disappearance (your grating voice don't call out to him anymore, and suddenly, the manor is quieter; he despises that feeling of emptiness more than he does of your nickname for him) then reappearance as jon's, funny, hah—!

jon's parent.

and in moments of careful investigation does he realize—

when you're with jon, his best friend, when he spies in on you at the little farm you now live in, currently alone with someone whom you call your true son, that he comes to realize just how much that nickname means so much to him, as your voice, with that soft tone, scold his friend with that familiar warmth you always used to direct at him with the softest of gaze, an angel unlike the sea of rich bastards he meets at the galas who only communicate with him to form connections, advantages by being associated with a family of the wayne's.

it's only when you're stripped away from him that he realizes how much he relishes your sweet occupancy into his heart, how there's always been an unbidden, forbidden chamber in his heart that beats for the love you offer him that was unlike the harsh environment he was born in.

he's never been adorned with such a delicate title that portrays him the opposite of what he's raised to be; damian has always been the blood son, son of the bat and heir to the demon king's throne, but never something as fond, as unforeseen as someone's baby.

it just thwarts the spark of hope in his heart and extends the lump in his throat at the scene that plays before him, the loving nickname you oh-so carefully address him now relinquished and graced to another boy, his friend no less— who you considered yours, who he's aware is way more deserving of being called your baby rather than him, who had always denied you from the very start.

"jon, baby, you help me clean the windows tomorrow, alright, young man? it's stained with all your fingerprints!" you scold him as assertively as you can, kneeling down to his level and pinching his cheeks all while grinning at the boy. jon retorts with a tongue out his lips and a scrunch of his nose. it garners a laugh from you, one damian swore he's never heard sounded so desirable until now.

why are you calling jon your baby?

"not my fault, mom/dad! i get so excited to see you come home every time you have to return there!" damian seethes at the scene of jon's pouting and puppy-eyes looking up at you, that should've been him.

"can't you just stay here? forever?"

damian despises how he engraves the melody of your laughter in reply to jon's words, right into his eardrums, but omits the disgustingly sweet chirp in your voice calling jon, not him, your baby. his mind nips away at the memories at all the moments you addressed him too, and how he always rejected and corrected you to call him by his name like a proper person rather than a maniac pushing themself into his life.

he doesn't want to ever hear you address him, if it means it's not by his nickname that you now call jon.

damian couldn't even deny how the huge grin that stretches across your face at the sight of his best friend scalds him with bitterness, he wasn't even aware you're capable of such enjoyment, not when back at the manor your hesitant with even displaying a tinge of happiness— as if you're capable of doing so, not when he knows he's one of the main contributors for being the reason of your current affair.

and yet he wishes he could lie and say he didn't miss it, miss your expectant stare at him, the contrast of talia's comfort compared to yours, when the hugs you offer him, the gifts carefully curated to his preferences, the palpable love that never once wavered for your family that you could never call yours, they all seem like a distant dream now that you're away from them; from him.

it hurts watching you two communicate even further, for once it's him in the background watching like an outsider instead of you. for once, he understands what isolation feels like, what foreboding desires fester deep into his scarred soul that could only be cured with one of the softest cuddly hugs, the sweetest, flutter of your lashes as you stare oh-so fondly at jon like he meant the world to you, like it was only the two of you in the world embracing the light filtering through the windows, side by side, inseparable.

if there was one wish he could conjure, a desire he was trained to forfeit himself to feel that creeps its way into the depths of his guarded heart— it's that once you put jon into bed - even if it takes hours, even his heart feels like it's being squeezed out of blood watching your nightly, affectionate routine with jon; reading him bedtime stories, eating together, laughing lightly at the dinner table while you feed him your share of the plate, moments he never thought he felt compelled to spend with you - once he strikes at the perfect opportunity to talk to you, to confront your blunder of choosing them over him, of his woes towards your relationship—

he wishes, with unceasing faith, that you still love him enough to call him your baby once more.

a/n: let this blow up and i might just actually fix my schedule to give more updates. anyways, more damian wayne and jon kent content! one of my fave runs is with supersons and i love fluff paired with angst too so this is a win-win. pls leave in some comments about this series, since ngl i didn't give it as much love as i did for a&a 😭 so yes! mitski inspired chapter with more conflicting feelings. i'm still working around writer's block but everyone's undying support helps motivate me a lot!!!

taglist:

@starrydollita, @vellichorandhiraeth, @chericia, @queenofspades403, @naina326, @neerathebrightstar, @lilyalone, @sweetconnoisseurgardener, @nickey-diano, @tsuniio, @ssak-i, @kore-of-the-underworld, @lollipoppersposts, @peptox, @kdjhubby, @weirdcore-fantasy.

[gothamite-rambler]

Duke meeting Talia for the first time

Duke (in his Signal suit): Whoa! You're Talia?!

Talia (stepping out of the shadows, her jade eyes striking in the dim light): You know my name? That’s good.

Duke: Daaaaamn! You are hot!

Bruce burst into laughter, catching everyone off guard. Talia’s eyes widened as her usual frigid demeanor shifted to one of surprise.

Talia: What?

Duke: I’m sorry, it’s just—respectfully—you’re stunning! You were with Bruce? No way! Where’s your mother? There’s no way someone as gorgeous and young as you could be with him. Your mom must’ve done the dirty tango with that guy!

Ra's (raising an eyebrow, clenched jaw): The dirty tango?

Talia (placing a hand on her flawless cheek): I… um, I’m Damian’s mother, and yes, I was with Bruce. I haven’t been complimented like that since him.

Bruce laughed even harder, much to Ra's annoyance and Talia's irritation.

Duke: Ignore him. You could be a model or actress; you’ve got that commanding aura that could shoot a diplomat down.

Talia (flattered and grinning): I have shot down a diplomat. Thank you! Damian, your brother-friend is so sweet.

Damian walked over to Duke, glaring at his brother and teammate. His brows were furrowed as he tapped his foot angrily.

Duke: What? I’ve never seen her up close before! The way you all described her, I thought she’d be an old crone or something like her father.

Ra's (enraged): I’m not a real demon! Just get out and don’t spray me with that water bottle!

Duke (walking away, shaking his head): I can't with this man.

Damian grumbled, crossing his arms as his mother hugged him.

Talia: Calm down, Dami.

[4vanaa]

— MODERN FAMILY.

an outer banks alternate universe

— PAIRINGS dad!rafe cameron x mom!reader | dad!jj maybank x mom!kiara carrera | dad!pope heyward x mom!cleo | dad!john b routledge x mom!sarah cameron | singlefather!topper thornton | uncle! barry |

— SYNOPSIS a slice-of-life series that takes you into the heart of one big, chaotic, and loving family. at the center of it all is you and rafe navigating the ups and downs of parenthood with your own kids—ranging from toddlers to teenagers—while trying to balance your relationship, your personal growth, and the wild, unpredictable moments that come with raising a family. but it’s not just about you, the obx cast is all here. they all have their own families, with different parenting styles, dynamics, and struggles.

— TROPES/TAGS established relationships, slice of life, chaotic family dynamics, fluff, very mild angst, humor, original characters, everyone’s married, parenthood, no real plot, everything is a standalone.

TEASER

—MEET THE FAMILIES 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 |

REQUESTS/DRABBLES.

HEADCANONS.

ONESHOTS.

SMAUS/TEXTS.

a/n: credits to @zyafics for the layout!! this work is also inspired by @papercranesandinkstains elementary smau. and credits to @vesearartistry for the dividers!! heavily inspired by modern family. there is no plot, every drabble/headcanon are all in the same universe but not needed to understand the other. if you’d like to request something you’d like to see just comment below here, or send an ask.

🏷️ taglist: if you’d like to be tagged for this smau, or any future or current ones, you can reply and i’ll add you!!

[theysangastheyslew]

IT'S CHRISTMAS IN JULY BITCHES (yes I know it's almost over shh 🤫)

Now could this have been 4 panels with Hans just plopping down on the couch, patting Levi on the shoulder and saying ''Yo I'm knocked up'', and then carrying on with their evening?

Why yes, yes indeed. But where's the struggle in that ? :')

[lqveharrington]

My Wife | A.B.

summary: It was arranged for you and Anthony to marry for convince, but it seems as if the both of you find it much more than just a marriage of convince.

pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

includes: use of she/her pronouns, minimal use of Y/N, kissing, mentions of sex, some angst

a/n: i’ve been watching too much bridgerton and reading too much books to not write about him

After being wed and having one of the best wedding lunches, the new viscountess and Viscount Bridgerton found themselves with a dilemma. Although the two had known each other for quite some time before having to wed, they had not considered how they truly felt for one another. They merely saw each other as close friends through the years. So when their wedding night came — along with the added nights of their honeymoon — the newly wed couple did not know what was to come of them.

“You mustn’t leave us yet!” Hyacinth wraps her arms around your middle, smiling brightly toward her newest sister-in-law. “I still have so many things I need to ask you and so little time!”

“I’ll be back in a month, Hyacinth.” You press a kiss to her temple and squeeze her in your arms. You tuck one of her curls behind her ear and rub her cheek. “Besides, I’ve seen you grow into an amazing young woman so far, I doubt it’ll change in one month.”

She happily takes the compliment — albeit shyly — and took your hands in her. She swings them by her side and looks at you with all seriousness. “You must promise to be back in a month. No more and no less.”

“I promise.” You give her a soft smile. It wasn’t uncommon for Hyacinth to make you promise such things, she truly loved you even before you were betrothed to her eldest brother. You squeeze her hands gently, giving her a reassuring gaze. “But you must promise me that you’ll tell me all those stories of your adventures when I come back.”

“Of course.” She gives you a bright grin.

You give her an equally bright smile as she wraps her arms around you one last time before letting go, off to bother Gregory. The young Bridgerton boy gave you a hug, murmuring softly about how much he’d miss you before following his younger sister to stand by the front gates. They both were truly lights in the Bridgerton family, and you were happy that they both officially became a siblings to you. Even after practically raising them along side Anthony and Violet.

You move to walk over to the carriage when Eloise rushes over to you, eyes glazed and puffy.

“Eloise?” You stand in front of the young woman, catching her wipe her tears and sniffle. “Are you alright?” You bring a hand up to wipe her tears, giving her a look of remorse.

“I’m not bloody fine.” She sadly chuckled before pulling you into a tight hug. Eloise buried her head into your shoulder, sniffling loudly. “I can’t believe you married my prick brother.”

You quickly embraced the brunette, holding her close as her tears were soaked up by your white dress. You rubbed her back softly, murmuring a quiet response. “I can’t believe you’re crying for me and not Anthony.”

“Like I said, he’s a prick.” Eloise wiped her face with her bare hand, no decorum whatsoever. You handed her a handkerchief, nodding when she thanked you. She glanced back at the carriage awaiting you and Anthony before meeting your eyes again. “When I was younger, I thought that the easiest way for you to become my sister was to marry into the family.”

You listened intently, rubbing her shoulder.

“I didn’t think that you needed to marry after you helped raise us. You were practically family. I guess I never saw Anthony nor Benedict enough to marry such an amazing woman.” She fiddled with the bow at the front of her dress as she explained her thoughts for you. “When you came over one day and told us you were getting married to dear old Anthony… I think I was elated that you would really be our sister.” She looked up at you again. “I was happy that you and him came to your senses and that you would become the new Viscountess.”

Your eyes widened slightly. You forgot that no one else other than Anthony and your father knew that marriage was for convience. That the marriage was for the Bridgerton heir. Quickly, you mask your face. “I’ll let your mama handle being Viscountess for as long as she wants. I still have much to learn about that role.”

“Nonsense, you learned so much about it when you came over to help with Gregory and Hyacinth.” She nudged your side before pulling you into one last hug. “I won’t keep you long because Anthony keeps glaring over, but I truly believe you would be the best Viscountess the ton will ever see.” She pauses and looks over at her mother. “Well, besides mama.”

You shake your head with a playful grin, “I’ll see you in a month, El.”

She smiles softly as you step away to your carriage. You soften your gaze as you look back at her and the rest of the Bridgerton family. They were practically your second family and now they truly were family. You gave them a short curtesy for being a home to you when an arm wrapped around your waist. Without even looking, you knew who was next to you.

“Are you all done with your goodbyes?” Anthony teases, recounting how each of his siblings had a personal farewell from you. “I want my wife back.”

You scrunch your nose at his teasing words as he lays his hand out to help you into the carriage. “Jealous, Viscount Bridgerton?” You steady yourself as you enter the carriage, hand delicately placed in his. You adjust yourself in the carriage, pushing strands of hair off your face.

He squeezes your hand as he takes a seat next to you. He gave you a gentle look, eyes roaming around your face. “I would never be jealous of my siblings. Besides you’re stuck with me, Viscountess Bridgerton.”

You send him a soft smile at his words before waving toward the Bridgerton family once more as the carriage pulled away. You lean your head on Anthony’s shoulder like you usually did when you were younger, keeping your hand in his.

“You know, you don’t need to bow down to them.” Anthony gave a short peck to your head, rubbing his thumb on your hand.

You hum before speaking, “Your family has earned my respect over many years. I owe them at least one bow before I’m officially the Viscountess.”

He continues to rub your hand as he processes your words.

As the trek to Aubrey Hall began, you kept your hands intertwined with Anthony’s the entire time, occasionally one of you squeezing the other’s hand. You spoke mindlessly about the recent books you’ve read or how the visits to the modiste went with his sisters. You honestly did everything to keep your mind off from the impending wedding night that was to fall on the both of you.

And as if he read your mind, Anthony did the same. While he listened intently to your words, he added comments where he deemed it necessary and rubbed soft circles into your hand when he asked for more information. He would also tell his own tales, although they ranged from being drunk with his brothers to filing papers.

The tension between the both of you became apparent as you started to feel warmth lingering on your skin from his touch. It became even more ignited when you saw how he looked at you. He gave you such an amorous gaze, like you hung the stars up just for him.

You arrived at Aubrey Hall during nightfall, the lights outside just being lit by the staff already waiting for the both of you. No matter how many times you saw the place, you marveled at how beautiful it was.

Anthony stepped out of the carriage and dusted himself off before extending his hand for you to take. He led you through the house where the both of you would be staying, your things arriving well before your carriage came.

You let go of Anthony’s hand as you sat in front of the vanity, gently taking your earrings out and your jewelry when you saw him staring at you intensely. You raised a brow and opened your mouth to comment on it when he spoke.

The both of you quietly laughed at the unexpected mixing of your voices. You finished pulling all your jewelry off and stood to face him properly. He nodded for you to go first, taking your hand in his again.

“Anthony…” You say softly and thumb his pulse. “Can I ask you something?”

He hummed and met your eyes, creasing his brows when he saw the hesitation in them. “What is it?”

“I… You…” You pause, looking away and spinning your wedding ring anxiously. You rubbed your face before continuing, slowly meeting his eyes. “Did you truly only agree to marry me for convenience? For an heir to the Bridgerton name?”

Anthony let go of your hand and rubbed his jaw, sighing. “Yes… And no.”

You looked at him in confusion before he spoke again.

“I knew I had to marry someday. I thought it would merely be for an heir, but mother wanted it to be of love since Daphne found her true match.” Anthony chuckled softly at the fond memory of his sister in a now very happy marriage. “I wasn’t too sure how love with someone other than family was supposed to feel like. I wasn’t sure exactly how I was supposed to find someone to marry for love.”

The idea plagued your mind. You never knew what love from a significant other was supposed to feel like either. You knew love from your family and what the Bridgertons’ had shown you.

“I saw how mother was with father when he was still… I never really felt it.” Anthony gazed into your eyes with something you couldn’t place. “Not until recently. You,” He sucked in a small breath before continuing. “You lit up a room whenever you came by and my siblings adored you, I adored you.” He cupped your cheek softly. “There were countless nights where I couldn’t sleep because I knew you were available for any other man of the ton and you only saw me as a friend. A friend from childhood.”

You parted your mouth slightly at the confession, feeling the heat from his hands.

“When your father came up to me and proposed the marriage with you, I thought it couldn’t be bad. I would marry the woman who stuck with me my entire life. I accepted for the convenience of it all, but I truly felt more even before this arrangement was brought up.” Anthony brought his other hand up to your face and stared intently, rubbing the apples of your cheeks.

“What are you…” You trail off as he gives you a look to listen.

“I’m saying I love you, Y/N. With all my heart and soul. You showed me what love was and how it was supposed to feel.” Anthony says before pulling your face to his and capturing your lips.

You let out a small noise of surprise before melting into the kiss, letting your arms wrap behind his neck. He trailed a hand down to your hip and pulled you closer to him as you smiled into the kiss.

Panting, you part from the mind searing kiss and rest your forehead on his, eyes shut. “Anthony?”

Anthony slowly nodded, “Yes?”

“I love you too.” You kiss him again.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[tisthedamnbisexual]

Probably some day at camp half blood.

Percy : So how did you guys get married?

Y/n: We didn't even have a proper wedding, we just went down to a courthouse on a random Tuesday.

Luke (with a low voice) : The judge sentenced me to life with no chance of Parole.

Y/n :

Y/n : You begged me to marry you.

Luke (now looking down) : I did.

Meanwhile Percy and Annabeth: ....

Percy : Hey I have an ide-

Annabeth : don't. Even.

[zerosbubble]

Upcoming The Rookie series.

A/N: I’m not a committed writer, nor do I promise consistent posts. I don’t expect anyone to read my fics either, I’m kinda just writing what I want because I’m quite literally addicted to The Rookie right now and need an outlet with all these scenarios in my head. But, in saying so, I don’t mind requests, so if you have one, don’t be afraid to submit some.

Last Updated: 4/7/25

❀ = Fluff ✸ = Angst ☆ = Suggestive ￶ ￶ ￶ ￶ ￶ ￶ ￶ ￶ ￶ ￶ ￶ ￶ ￶ ￶ ￶ ￶ ￶ ￶ ￶ ￶ ￶✮ = NSFW 〤 = Platonic ! = Ongoing

Like Father, Like Rookie !

Tim Bradford x Rookie!Reader [PLATONIC] 〤

Summary: Being the youngest rookie in Mid-Wilshire so far—let alone being Tim’s rookie, everyone either looked out for you, or was determined to prevent whatever disasters were bound to come with your youth. But to Tim, you were his mini him. And he honestly couldn’t tell if it was a curse or a blessing.

Episodes: Not in the Rook Book. ❀ Stay here. ❀ / ✸ Boot to most, Kid to Tim. ❀ Coffee Routine. ❀ Rookie Down. ❀ / ✸ Not my Rookie, Not my Problem. ❀ Not my kid! ❀ The Rookie Prank War! ❀ Let’s go home, kid. ❀ / ✸ Bradford’s Intervention. ❀ / ✸

[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: When Noah was left alone to take care of his daughter about two years ago, he never thought he would find someone else he would trust enough to include in his little family. But things can change.

Tw: abandonment issues, fluff

Series masterlist

You stirred awake in the middle of the night, a soft murmur escaping your lips as you blinked your eyes open. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the TV was still on, casting across the walls a flickering light. The movie that you and Noah had started together was long over, the screen now rolled through endless Netflix suggestions.

You had fallen asleep on the couch, nestled against him, and now, as the fog of sleep began to lift, you became aware of the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your head, his warmth surrounding you in a comforting way.

You shifted slightly, heavy and sluggish from the deep sleep you'd fallen into. Noah's arm, laid across your waist, tightened fractionally, his body instinctively seeming to pull you closer.

The soft weight of his arms made you immediately smile, but the slight chill in the air reminded you that you’d been lying still for too long without a blanket.

You lifted your head and looked at him. His face was soft in the dim light, his eyes closed, lips parted slightly as he slept. He seemed peaceful, the usual intensity that he had about him was replaced by something so calm, so tender, in fact, that your heart ached in a wonderful way.

For one moment, you watched him, your heart swelling up in this quiet kind of happiness, welling up and overspreading across your chest. Being this close to him, seeing him this way, was something you were still getting used to, but it felt so right.

Carefully not to disturb him too much, you shifted again, trying to extend your legs out. Noah shifted slightly with your movement, blinking awake as his eyes gradually adjusted to the dim light. He groaned softly, his hand rubbing at his face as he woke.

"We fell asleep," you whispered, your voice barely louder than a murmur into the quiet room.

Noah chuckled low in his throat, his voice thick with sleep. "Guess we didn't make it through the movie, mh?"

You shook your head, smiling. "Not even close."

He sat up a little, still holding you against him, his hand coming to rest on your back as he glanced towards the TV. "Must've knocked out halfway through," he said with a sleepy smile running a hand through his messy hair.

A yawn stretched his lips, and he stretched slightly before looking back at you. His gaze softened, taking in the sleeping expression which lined your face, the half-lidded eyes still caught in the niggling haze of sleep.

"You cold?" he asked, one eyebrow arched as he caught the slight shudder running through you in the cool air of the room.

"A little, but I'm fine."

Noah stood, silent, his hand falling onto your shoulder for a moment in a reassuring touch, like to say he wasn't going anywhere. He vanished into his bedroom and reappeared with one of his oversized hoodies. It was black, "bad omens" written on it, and worn in that way that made it the perfect thing to wear when you needed to feel cozy.

"Here," he said quietly, extending it toward you. "This will keep you warm."

You smiled as you took the hoodie from him. It smelled like him, like fresh laundry with the hint of that cologne he always wore, that scent which had become so dear to you now.

You stood up slowly as you pulled the hoodie over your head. It was so big on you that it practically swallowed you whole, the hem reached down to your thighs, the sleeves falling past your hands.

"Better?" Noah asked, his eyes clinging to you with a soft, gentle smile. There was just something so tender in his gaze, something that has your heart flutters.

You nodded, tugging the sleeves up a little so your hands were free. "Much better. Thanks".

Noah's eyes trailed over you, his small smile dancing on his lips as he took in the look of you in his hoody. "It looks cute on you," he whispered, taking a step closer.

Your chest bloomed with warmth at the look in his eyes; your heart stuttered. You couldn't help but beam up at him.

"I like it," you said, tugging on the oversized fabric. "It's like a blanket."

Noah chuckled and reached out to delicately sweep a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was so soft, so careful, as if he was afraid of breaking the moment. "You can keep it," he said softly, his thumb grazing your cheek. "If you want."

"Mh. Maybe."

He smiled and reached in to press a soft kiss against your forehead, his lips staying on your skin for a moment. "C'mon," he whispered. "Let's get some proper sleep."

He took your hand and led you into his bedroom; stopping briefly in the hallway, he glanced over at the door to his daughter's room, as if listening to make sure no noise was coming from inside it, that Luna was sleeping well, then entered into his own room.

The space dimly lit by the soft light from the window. Noah walked to the bed, drawing back the blankets and climbed in, holding them up for you to join him.

It was the first time you were staying over for the night but without hesitation you snuggled in beside him, immediately feeling the warmth of his body as he wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you close.

You nestled into him, your head falling against his chest, the light beat of his heart steady beneath your ear. His hand was laid on your back, tracing mindless circles upon the hoodie's fabric in a soothing way. You could feel his breathing against your hair, slow and steady.

"Comfy?" he asked low, his voice barely more than a whisper in the quiet room.

You nodded, closing your eyes and pressing youself even closer to him as your body molded against his perfectly. "Very," you murmured, your voice muffled slightly by his chest.

The only sound for several moments was the soft rustling of the blankets, the quiet rhythm of your breathing. Noah's hand continued to trace those gentle patterns on your back, his touch soothing you deep into a peaceful calm.

After a while, he tilted your chin up with his fingers in a gentle movement, to make you gaze into his eyes, soft and filled with something that made your heart ache with tenderness.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. It was slow, sweet, and full of unspoken words, words that didn’t need to be said because they were already understood in the quiet between you.

His lips felt soft against yours, a lingering touch as if he willed this moment never to come to an end. Drawing finally back, his forehead fell against yours, his warm breath dancing across your skin.

"You are the best thing that ever happened to me after Luna," he whispered, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing over your skin in the gentlest of touches.

Your heart swelled at his words, the quiet sincerity in them making you feel like you were precisely where you was supposed to be.

"I'm glad I can be part of your life," you whispered back.

Noah just gave you a soft smile.

You lay there in the quiet, wrapped in his arms as your eyelids began to drop, drifting back to sleep. His hand was still on your back, and the steady pulse of his heart beneath your ear was like a lullaby to you.

Soon enough, you were lost in the quiet comfort of the night and the last thing you remember is the soft press of Noah's lips against your forehead, his whispered words carrying you into the sweetest of dreams.

Noah woke up many hours later, morning light filtering softly through the curtains and casting a gentle glow over the room. Instinctively, he reached over for you, only to meet cool, empty sheets.

His heart stuttered in his chest.

At first, he didn’t fully understand, maybe you’d just rolled to the other side of the bed. But as his hand swept across the sheets, where you must’ve been, a sharp twinge of fear crept in. Noah sat up quickly, his pulse thrumming louder in his ears, his gaze darting around the dimly lit room.

You weren't there.

He knew you weren't like her, you were nothing like his ex, but still, that fear had managed to course through his veins, sharp and biting.

The bed felt too empty, the room too still, and his thoughts turned frantic. What if you left? What if, despite all the things unsaid but deeply understood between you, you had decided this was too much? A man who screamed on a stage as a job, with a kid—who could blame you for walking out? What if you woke up and realized this life wasn’t for you?

His stomach twisted, that sick wave of nausea rising as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The pulse pounded in his ears, and before he knew it, he was up on his feet, quicky walking out of the room in bare feet and suddently, terribly anxious.

The hallway was too quiet, too still. He really felt like he was about to throw up.

A swell of panic rose in his chest, suffocating, his mind replayed those old, familiar fears despite knowing you would never leave like that.

He pressed onward, his body on autopilot as he moved toward the kitchen, his hands shaking as he pushed the door open.

And then there you were.

In an instant, as he saw you standing by the counter, setting a plate softly on the table, the tension in his chest released.

You were still in his big hoodie, softly humming to yourself as you moved around the kitchen, totally oblivious to the storm that had just raged inside him.

Noah didn't say another word as he just stood there for a second, his breath catching up while relief washed down his body. His heartbeat slowed down and the sick feeling in his stomach receded. You didn't leave. Of course you didn't.

He crossed the room in three quick strides without a second thought. As you placed some glasses on the table, Noah wrapped his arms around you from behind and whirled you to face him, and he just kissed you without a word, his lips moving against yours like he couldn’t wait another second.

You chuckled when you had to pull away in need of air, a little bit caught off guard. "Good morning to you, too," you said as you lifted your head to meet his gaze. "You slept like 10 hours. I was about to come wake you up."

His eyes softened, and he nodded, giving you a small smile, though something lingered in his gaze, something you couldn't quite place.

"Breakfast smells good," he muttered lowly, his hand resting lightly on your hip.

You smiled, stepping back from his hold as you returned to the pankakes cooking in a pan. "Almost ready. Just finishing up."

Noah hung around a moment longer, watching you, before finally stepping away. "I'll go wake Luna," he said.

He cast one last look at you in the kitchen as he walked toward Luna's room, all of the weight of his fears ebbing completely away.

Of course you weren't going anywhere.

You were standing at the stove, flipping pancakes, the sweet scent filling the air when Noah appeared again, his hand holding Luna's one. Or rather, Luna's hand was wrapped around two of Noah's fingers since his hand was five times as bigger than hers.

She was still in her pyjamas, in her other hand she was holding Mr. Flop and her hair was a mess from sleeping, but a little grin spread over her face as she looked at you.

"Hi!" She beamed.

"Hi Luna! You like pancakes?" You called over your shoulder.

"I love pancakes!"

"Great! What do you want on yours?"

"Chocolate!" she exclaimed, her eyes alight with excitement.

"Coming right up!" You cut a piece of a chocolate bar you found in the fridge in smaller parts on top of a pancake just for her as they sat around the table.

Noah leaned back in his chair, his lips playing a teasing smile. "You're really spoiling her, you know," he said. "She is gonna ask for a breakfast like this every day now."

You smirked as Luna clapped her hands in excitement as you placed the pancake in front of her. "Yay! Thank you!"

Noah drizzled syrup over his own stack and turned back to Luna, who'd started cutting her pancake into bits with a little fork.

Luna took a big bite of her pancake, melted chocolate dripping down her chin. "Mmmh! So good!"

"Looks like someone needs a bib," Noah chuckled leaning over to wipe a bit of chocolate off her cheek with his thumb.

"I'm not a baby!" She protested, giggling and wiping her face on her pajama sleeve, which only made things messier.

"Noah, I think you should-"

The stack of three pancakes in Noah's plat fell down and syrup ended up splattered all around the table.

"-watch your own pancakes." You ended the sentence too late.

"I think being messy is a family thing" Noah said, holding up his syrup-covered hands, too. "We'll just roll with it."

You chuckled, shaking your head, and dug into your pancakes. "At least this is the funniest breakfast I had in a while."

Luna leaned back in her chair and looked around. "I love messy breakfast!" she exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.

"Messy is fun," you agreed, trying to not grin noticing the chocolate dribbling down her chin.

As you all continued eating, the kitchen was filled with laughter as somehow, Noah's face managed to get covered in sirup.

"Noah, I am pretty sure you are doing it on purpose now."

"You're silly, daddy!" Luna laughed.

"You should see your face!" he said, now grinning at her as you reached for a paper towel.

"Alright, alright, let's not make too much of a disaster," you said unable to suppress your smile as you cleaned Noah's face. "Let's save some for our plates."

After finishing breakfast, you set your plate aside and leaned against the counter, smiling at the chaos, but as you glanced at the clock, you realized you didn’t have much time left before you had to leave for work. “I should probably start cleaning up. I have to get to the café soon.”

Noah shook his head, pushing back his chair with a lazy smile. “You’ve already done a lot. I’ve got this, don’t worry.”

“But—”

“Nope,” he cut you off, standing up and starting to gather the syrup-streaked plates from the table. “You made breakfast. I can handle the mess.”

“Alright, are you sure?"

He glanced at his daughter, who was happily licking chocolate off her fork. “We’ll tackle it together, right, Lu?”

Luna nodded, though she didn’t seem too interested in helping, more focused on her chocolate-covered fork. You chuckled, shaking your head. “Alright, if you’re sure.”

“Don't worry about it,” Noah said, giving you a warm smile as you pulled your bag over your shoulder.

He walked you to the door, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your lips before you stepped out.

"Bye Luna!" You waved at the little girl now murmuring something to Mr. Flop sitting on her legs.

"Bye!" She smiled and you couldn’t help but think she definitely had his dad's smile.

“Have a good day at work.” Noah smiled.

Yeah, she really had his dad's smile.

“You too,” you replied, feeling a content warmth settle in your chest as you left for the café.

The café was bustling, a typical morning rush with people coming in for their caffeine fixes and breakfast.

The air smelled like freshly brewed coffee and pastry, accompanied by the soft hum of murmurs and chatter blending with the hissing from the espresso machine. You were halfway through making a flat white when your phone buzzed in your pocket.

You gave it a glance, since the client on the counter was talking with another woman sitting next to him.

Noah♡ : Luna's still talking about how much fun she had with you yesterday and this morning. Kept asking when you're coming over for pancakes again.

Noah♡: Thanks for everything, really.

Noah♡: I love you.

A soft warmth bloomed in your chest as you read his message.

You quickly hit reply, fingers flying across the keyboard.

You: She's such a sweetheart! I had just as much fun.

You: I'd love to make pankakes with you guys again sometime.

You: I love you too.

Just then, a tap on your shoulder pulled you from the screen to find Grace, your coworker, standing beside you, arms crossed, one eyebrow arched with a knowing look in her eyes.

"So," she started off, her eyes falling conspicuously to your phone as she tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear, "how is it going with your rockstar boyfriend?"

You laughed softly to yourself but shook your head and tucked the phone away in your pocket. "His name is Noah," you pointed out, finally giving the order to your costumer, "And it's going really well. We're taking things slow, but…it's good. It feels right."

"Mh..." She muttered, "I don't know if I'd be able to do it, you know? Date a guy with a kid, I mean. Seems like a lot of extra work. And a lot of pressure."

You frowned slightly, preparing for what Grace was going to say next, and before you could get a word out, she went on with: "I mean, come on. Wouldn't it be easier if, y'know, there wasn't a kid in the mix? You can't deny that makes it more complicated. At least with Jason, you didn't have to deal with that, right?"

The mere mention of Jason was a contraction in the stomach, something from the past that you really didn't like revisiting. You took one deep breath and let her words sink in before responding with calm conviction.

"My boyfriend's daughter's not a problem, Grace," you said firmly, making sure your gaze didn't drop from hers. "Luna is great and she's part of Noah's life. Jason? He was an asshole. So no, it's not even remotely similar."

Grace's eyebrows shot upwards as she raised her hands in mock surrender. "Whoa, okay. Didn't mean to hit a nerve. I'm just saying… it is a lot you're trying to deal with, right? Jumping into this whole family situation."

"Maybe," you replied running a rag over the already clean counter. "But to me, it isn't a burden. It's a part of Noah, and I like Noah. Different, yeah, but good different."

Grace was silent a second longer, her eyes softening ever so little. "Well, if you are happy," she said, but doubt was manifest in her voice. "I only hope it goes to your wish."

You smiled a little. "I think it will."

Grace rolled her eyes, for the first time sounding a little playful. "Alright, lovebird. Just don't say I didn't warn you when it gets messy. Beacause this whole rockstar with kid situation is gonna get messy."

You smirked, shaking your head. "Life's already messy, Grace. But I'm not afraid of it this time."

She laughed, her sharp blue eyes glinting with amusement. "You're braver than me. I'll stick to dating guys without kids, thanks."

The topic changed then, and the café remained busy. You and Grace fell into an easy rhythm, serving customer after customer, brewing coffee after coffee and serving some simple snacks such as pastries and sandwiches, passing banal comments to each other. Yet, your mind was back to Noah's texts, the sweet simplicity of them, and the warmth they oozed into you.

You were sure Grace was entirely wrong. Yes, it was different, dating someone with a child, something you never did before and certainly hadn't expected. God, you probably never even considered having kids.

But different wasn't bad.

You knew people liked to talk and gossip, too. They liked it a lot.

You’d started to notice it more often now, especially since you had been seen with Noah a few times around town, and the same old rumors about him had never really stopped. People loved to talk, and the truth often got twisted beyond recognition.

You’d heard it all. Some people said Noah was the one who’d left his ex, that he had taken Luna away and refused to let her mother see her, painting him as the villain. Others whispered that Luna had been the result of a one-night stand, the product of a fleeting moment in his life, and that he was too reckless, too irresponsible, to be raising a kid alone.

None of it was true. You knew that. You knew how Luna was born into a relationship that once held hope, but had crumbled under the weight of unmet expectations. And you knew how Noah loved her with all his heart, always putting her first, no matter how hard it was.

But people didn’t care about the truth. It was easier to believe the lies, funnier and entertaining, especially when someone as visible as Noah was involved.

His fame only made things worse. Online, where the rumors spread quickly, people picked apart every little detail of his life, turning his private struggles into something for public consumption. It made your stomach churn just thinking about it.

And now, since you'd been seen with him a couple of times, they were starting to talk about you, too. The same people who had speculated about Noah’s past were beginning to make assumptions about your relationship.

You could imagine the stories they were going around  now, that you were just another girl caught up in the excitement of dating a rockstar, that you were either using him for his fame or walking into a messy situation you couldn’t handle.

You were starting to understand his decision to delete all social media more and more every day.

Part of you wanted to be angry, to confront every single person who dared to say those things. But the bigger part of you... just didn’t care. Because you knew the truth.

You knew Noah, and you were starting to get to know him better everyday, the real him, the man who stayed up late playing guitar softly while Luna slept, the man who looked at you with that quiet tenderness in his eyes, the man who made pancakes and laughed when syrup got everywhere.

This wasn’t going to be easy, you realized that. You had known it from the moment you stepped into his world. Being with Noah meant accepting all of him, the father and the musician.

But love was never supposed to be easy, you reminded yourself. And maybe that was the point. It was the hard parts, the messy parts, that made it worth it in the end.

Time moved on in the afternoon at the café filled with monotonous work that kept your hands full, while your mind wandered back to the messages from Noah again and again. You were so glad Luna liked you.

You couldn't tell exactly where it was all going, but it was certain, you were right where you wanted to be.

(If you don't wanna be tagged in this just tell me, no problem at all!)

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @mathfairchild1 @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lma1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme

TBAF Tags: @aubrey-melinoe @klutzy-kay24 @mrscevans

[s0urw00lf]

Twisted luck

Woman in white

Sam Winchester x reader ALL INCLUSIVE

Summary: when Sam and dean show up in your living room telling you that you mother and john were missing you couldn’t leave them hanging. Besides it was only one hunt, one hunt can’t hurt right?

AN: I'm actually super proud of readers addition to the story. I hope everyone likes it!!! Also if you see any mistakes please let me know, I went over this 4 times. Twisted Luck master list

Next chapter

You usually slept all through the night when your boyfriend was home, the comfort of his presence behind you gave you the constant reminder that you aren’t alone anymore usually helped you sleep better, but recently you couldn't shake the feeling of doom that settled deep in your gut.

So you sat awake with the t.v. on low hoping that the soap opera playing would lull you to sleep, but you were the furthest from it and really wanted popcorn but you knew Jason would wake up if you were gone too long.

‘I'll just be quick’ you thought to yourself before carefully removing his arm from around your waist and tiptoed out of the room, closing the door so that if you made too much noise it wouldn’t wake him.

You walked to the kitchen rummaging through the cabinets in search of the popcorn, until you saw a glimpse of it on the third shelf, “Jason you ass” you muttered to yourself, climbing onto the counter reaching for it.

Your fingertips barely brushed the box before you found yourself pausing when you heard one of the floorboards creak, immediately you tensed from instinct.

Looking over to the bedroom you saw that the door was still closed so it couldn’t have been from your boyfriend.

You slowly climbed down off of the counter and bent down below the counters, opening up one of the lower cabinets you reached in feeling the top for the gun you had hidden before your boyfriend moved in, silently cursing to yourself when you realized it wasn’t there.

You looked around for another efficient weapon and your eyes landed on the rack of knives Jason insisted on buying for the kitchen. You grabbed the one that Jason had just sharpened the day before and began moving towards the sound.

It was as if the person you’d tried to bury for three years was seeping back out through the cracks. Your breath was even and your heart was beating steady. You knew whoever was in your home would regret even laying eyes on it when it was all said and done.

Your trained ears picked up the hushed whispers coming from the living room, you long ago memorized every nook and cranny of the apartment, down to which parts of the floors creaked and avoided them easily.

You peeked into the room and saw two tall figures one towering over the other immediately you knew who they were.

You placed your knife on the floor before you swiftly ran towards the shorter one wrapping your legs around his neck before twisting your body, causing his body to flip over and landing on his face. “Told ya” he groaned.

You stood up placing your hands on your hips and let a sly grin take form on your face “Hiya Dean” you said, then looked over to Sam who held an impressed expression. “I see you haven't lost your touch” he teased, moving to help Dean up.

“Over my dead body” You said, moving to flick on the lights and motioning for them to have a seat.

You sat on the couch in front of them crossing your legs out of habit from your job “so what's with the family reunion?” You asked, looking between the two of them.

Both Dean and Sam glanced at each other having a silent conversation that you completely understood. “Our parents are missing. They were on a hunting trip” Dean started. “And?” You questioned urging him to get on with the story.

“And that was about a month ago, haven’t heard from ‘em since” he continued. You eyed him “okay, well what were they hunting” you asked leaning forward.

Dean pulled out an article from his jacket pocket placing it on the coffee table “ they were checking out this two lane blacktop just outside of Jericho California. Around the time they left this guy-“ he pointed to the picture of a young guy “they found his car, but he vanished. Completely MIA”

You skimmed over the article before glancing back up at the brothers “so what was he kidnapped?” You questioned, finally Sam spoke up, “that’s what i thought too but check this out, there was one in April, another one in ‘04, ‘03, ‘98, ‘92” he said as he handed you more articles of missing men. “Ten of them over the past twenty years” Dean said. “All men, all the same five mile stretch of road”.

”i'm guessing it got worse” you said and Dean nodded “so they went to dig around, I haven’t heard from them since. Then I got this voicemail yesterday.” He says as he pulls out a tape recorder before pressing play. The audio was scratchy and breaking up but you could make out John’s voice almost perfectly.

“Dean...something big is starting to happen...I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may... Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger.”

“You check it for EVP?” You asked, Dean gave you a grin telling you that he had “not too bad sweetheart” Dean shakes his head before “I slowed it down, ran it through a gold wave, took out the hiss and this is what i got” he said pressing play again

“…. I can never go home”

Dean sets down the cassette tape and they both look at you expectantly. You sighed rolling your eyes, knowing your answer before they even ask ‘once a hunter always a goddamn hunter’ you thought, rolling your eyes. “So what do you think?” Sam asks, eyebrows pinched together as if he was trying to read you.

You looked back towards the bedroom, surprised your boyfriend hadn’t come out in search of you even through all the ruckus ‘it’s just one hunt. Right?’ You thought. “I think… we got ourselves a hunt boys”

At that a smile slipped on both boys faces and Dean let out a loud ‘whoop' causing you to let out a laugh before pausing, “just this one. I have a… life here” you explained, and just as quickly as it came it was gone, well for Dean at least. “Wha-“ he was cut off by the bedroom door creeping open and out walked Jason, his hair was messy from sleep but he looked confused at the two men you were so comfortable sitting with in the living room.

“The hell,” Dean muttered as he stood up. Before anyone could do or say anything you stood up “uh Jason this is Dean and Sam. I grew up with them.” You explained as Jason got closer a look of realization set on his face “uh nice to meet you” he said as he stepped to give the brothers a handshake, Dean eyed him but surprisingly shook his hand, and then he moved to Sam who gave you an unreadable look as he shook Jason’s hand.

You then decided to break the silence, looking at Jason “uh i need to talk to you” you said, he looked between you and the boys confused “sure okay” he said with a slow nod.

You glanced at Sam and Dean, giving them a look that meant ‘beat it’. Sam immediately picked up on it and cleared his throat “we’ll wait in the car” he said, stepping past Dean. Dean gave your boyfriend one last look as he followed Sam.

Once the boys were gone Jason gave you an expectant look, you sighed trying to think of the best way to tell him about the situation.

You’d never talked about your life before leaving hunting, especially not to your clueless boyfriend, no matter how annoyed it made him that you knew more about him than he did you. “I'm going on a trip with them, just a… family thing.” You began.

Jason scoffed “so you just decide at what-“ he paused to check his watch “four in the morning to go on a family trip?” He asked, tilting his head.

You slowly nodded her head “yeah, just family stuff” you shrugged, Jason rolled his eyes at you “babe the most I’ve ever heard about your family were their names. You don't visit them during holidays, or birthdays. To be completely honest I thought they didn’t exist.” He said rubbing a hand through his hair.

You scoffed, taken aback by his comment, walking away from him and going to your shared room to pack. “Where are you going?” He called, following after.

“To pack my stuff, so I can go on a roadtrip with my ‘imaginary’ family” you sarcastically remarked, grabbing your old hunting bag and subtly placing the box full of your old hunting gear in it before moving to pack some clothes.

Jason sighed “look babe, I didn’t mean it like that. All i'm saying is it's a little weird they show up randomly at four in the morning and demand a road trip” he defended himself.

You threw her head back in irritation. Not at him but more so that you’d been born into such an odd, unexplainable family life, “can you at least tell me where you're going” he asked defeated.

You put your head down, clenching your eyes shut hoping that this moment would end already, “my mother is missing.” You stiffly admitted.

Jason let out a scoff, when you looked at him he looked about ready to lose his mind because you’d lost yours. “Your mother is missing and instead of calling the cops you go on a road trip?” He asked, not really being able to believe what he was hearing.

You paused “you wanted to know my family? Here’s a glance into my world.” You said, zipping up the duffel bag. Looking at Jason you could see the confused and helpless look on his face, sighing as you walked towards him and pressing a kiss to his lips, before pulling away, brushing the stubble on his chin with your thumb “i'll only be gone three days tops, ‘kay? Then when i get back you can ask me anything and i'll do my best to answer” you promised

Jason looked like he was studying your face for the last time “okay” he said, you nodded leaning in to give him one last kiss before you departed “ill see you soon, i lo-“ you cut yourself off before you could even start.

Jason nodded again, giving your hips a squeeze and pressing a long kiss to your forehead, before you backed away.

Sometime after getting in the car your body finally allowed you to sleep, maybe it was the sound of baby’s engine lulling you to sleep like it used to all those years ago, or maybe it was the sense that nothing would hurt you while you’re with Sam and Dean and that allowed the feeling in your gut to settle.

When you woke up, the sun was up and the car was no longer moving. Sam was sitting half way out of the front seat looking at the box of cassette tapes Dean inherited from john. “Where’s Dean?” You asked, catching Sam’s attention.

He gestured to the old looking gas station. You took in the surroundings and grimaced “charming” you muttered to herself as you got out of the car, to stretch your legs.

You were finally able to take a good look at Sam and suddenly a wave of nostalgia hit you like a truck.

Though he’d gotten taller and more lean since the last time you saw him, you felt like that nineteen year old girl on the road with her boyfriend and best friend, and a sense of longing filled you quickly seeping into her chest, but you shut it down before you could dwell too much on it.

You had a new life now, better, safer, and a boyfriend you couldn’t wait to get back home and see. Though you weren’t excited for the ‘ghosts, goblins, and vampires are real’ talk.

You moved towards Sam and leaned over him to peek into the box to see the same old cassette tapes he had when you left. Not one more or less.

“He seriously needs new music,” you joked, pulling out a cassette labeled ‘AC/DC’. “Tell me about it,” Sam laughed, causing you to smile. “Hey” Dean called from behind the car, catching you and Sam’s attention. He held up some snacks he bought while in the gas station. “Want breakfast?” He asked

“No thanks” Sam said, returning his attention back to the tapes. Dean then looked to you questioningly “im fine, but i will take that” you pointed to the drink in his hand. He tossed it to you and you caught it effortlessly. “So how’d you pay for that stuff? You and dad still running credit card scams?” Sam asked. You snorted “you’re surprised?”

“Yeah well hunting ain’t exactly a pro-ball career” Dean replied as he put the gas pump back where it belongs. “Besides all we do is apply, not our fault they send us the cards”. You raised your eyebrows in agreement “can't exactly argue with that” you said, getting back into the car. “Yeah, and what name did you write on the application this time?” Sam re-adjusted himself in the seat before closing the door.

Dean paused before he got in the car “uh Bert afframnian, and his son hector. Scored two cards out of the deal.” Dean smiled proudly. Sam laughed “sounds about right” he said. “I swear man, you gotta update your cassette tape collection” Sam said, causing Dean to frown “why?” He asked.

“Well for one there cassette tapes” you interjected putting your head in between theirs, Sam began to pick up singular cassettes and list the names “and two, Black Sabbath, motor head, metallica” Sam finished as Dean snatched the tape from his hand looking very offended.

“It’s the greatest hits of mullet rock, Dean there’s a whole world of music you’ve left undiscovered. You’d love Avril Lavigne” you teased causing Sam to laugh. Dean placed the cassette in the player “house rules Sammy, driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole, and you stay in the back seat” he said pushing your head back so you were sitting correctly before starting the car.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother ”Sammy is a chubby twelve year old, it's Sam” he tried to correct. You laughed “good luck trying to make that stick sammy” you said before Dean turned up the music. “Sorry I can't hear you, the music’s too loud,” Dean said before pulling off. The sound of the engine giving her another wave of nostalgia, maybe you had missed this more than you let yourself believe.

“Okay thanks” you said before closing your phone, “so there’s nobody at the morgue matching mom or john’s description, so that’s a start” you tell the boys. Sam nods at the information while Dean pulls off to the side of the road, his attention set on the bridge just ahead crossed off with yellow tape.

“Check it out” he said before opening the glove box and pulling out another box filled with fake ids, he smirked at you and Sam before getting out of the car “let's go”. You and Sam looked at each other with worry, both of your carriers were on the line if you got caught, you tilted your head “we have to” you said, before following Dean out the car, Sam not too far behind.

You, Sam and Dean walked onto the crime scene taking in every piece of information you could. “I’m guessing that’s the sheriff”, you pointed to a man looking over the bridge before moving to talk to another officer who looked to be dusting for fingerprints inside the car.

“No sign of struggle, no footprints, fingerprints spotless, it’s almost too clean” the officer said to the sheriff. The man sighed at the information “so this kid Troy, he’s dating your daughter isn’t he? How’s Amy doing?” The sheriff asked the officer.

“She’s putting up missing posters downtown” he answered. Dean walked toward them interrupting their conversation “you fellas had one like this last month didn’t you?” He spoke loudly, catching the sheriff's attention. “And who are you?” He asked, causing Dean to flash his fake badge “federal marshals” Dean answered.

The man did a once over at the three of them, none of them looking a say over 20 “you three are a little young for Marshall’s aren’t you?” You and Sam smirked at each other while Dean laughed “thanks that’s awfully kind of you” he said before moving on quickly “you did have another one just like this correct?” He asked. The sheriff nodded “yeah that’s right, about a mile down the road. There’ve been others before that.” He said.

You walked over to the car leaning down to get a closer inspection “do you mind if i uh…” you asked, gesturing to the car, the sheriff nodded “go ahead, but there’s nothing there. We swept it from top to bottom” he said. You smiled “I’m sure, I just want to get a good look myself” you said. You began to inspect the car making sure not to touch anything or leave any kind of DNA just in case.

Sam and Dean continued questioning the sheriff while you inspected the car, and so far you came up with nothing. The car’s clean, eerily so. Maybe some small part of you began to believe that whatever was here took your parents, that maybe they didn’t skip town to lead their kids on a manhunt for them, but then again they were too stubborn to die by the hands of something as little as a pissed off spirit.

Dean walked over beside you “anything?” He whispered, you shook your head “nothing, almost like he was never even here” you told him, standing up. “So what's the theory?” Sam asked, walking over to where you and Dean stood. The man shrugged “Honestly? We don’t know, serial murder, kidnapping ring” the sheriff answered.

“That is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys-“ Dean was cut off by Sam stomping on his foot. Your eyes widened but you covered it with a smile “please excuse us, we're done here” you said, pushing Sam and Dean to walk past the confused man “thank you for your time” Sam said giving a quick smile.

Sam walked ahead of you and Dean and she could tell he was irritated just by the way he was walking. Dean looked back to see if any of the police were looking before he slapped the back of Sam’s head. “Ow!” Sam whispered with clenched teeth.

You rolled your eyes at their antics, not in the mood for their arguing, you walked ahead of the both of them, somehow being the only one to catch the three men walking towards the three of you.

Two of whom were real FBI agents, you paused your walking backtracking a few steps and turned to both Sam and Dean who had his back toward you, you caught Sam’s eye over Dean's shoulder and gestured to the men behind her. Sam cleared his throat trying to send the message to his brother. Dean turned just as the men reached them.

“Can I help you kids?” The local officer's demeanor was a lot more authoritative than the others. You gave the men a charming smile “oh no sir, we just wanted to know what happened, we were just leaving” you said, not dropping the innocent act.

You led the brothers away from the bridge and back to the car, shaking your head the whole way.

When they all got back in the car you spoke “i say we go talk to that Amy girl”

Downtown

You, Sam and Dean walked downtown in search of Amy for about five minutes until all of your eyes landed on a girl putting up ‘missing’ posters. “I bet you that’s her” Dean said, you and Sam agreed.

The three of you walked up to the girl “you must be Amy” Dean said, the girl nodded as she taped up a poster. You stepped in front of Dean “yeah Troy told us about you, I’m y/n, this is Dean and Sammy were his aunt and uncles”, Amy eyed you weirdly, Sam and Dean could pass but you not so much.

Dean must’ve noticed because he nudged you toward Sam’s side and you caught on pretty quickly, wrapping your arm around him.

You couldn’t see Sam’s face but you were sure it was something along the lines of shock, then a look from you to Dean then quickly covering it with a tight lipped smile as he stiffly tugged you in closer.

Amy must’ve accepted the facade as she returned to putting up the posters “he never mentioned you to me” she said before turning to walk. The three of you followed and you and Sam let Dean take the lead in talking “yeah well that’s Troy i guess, we’re not around much we’re up in Modesto” he lied.

Sam broke away from you making you frown a bit, watching him move in front of Amy bringing her walk to a halt. “So we’re looking for him too and were kind of asking around-“ Sam was cut off by another girl stopping next to Amy asking her if she was okay, you assumed she was her friend.

“Do you mind if we ask you a couple questions?” You asked to which Amy agreed.

Amy and her friend led the three of you to a cafe, it was dark inside no thanks to the lack of sunshine outside, you sat between Dean and Sam whilst the two teenage girls sat on the other side.

Amy began telling you about the last time she and Troy spoke “I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and...he never did.” She said.

Sam leaned forward, more intrigued. “He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?” He asked. Amy shook her head, a frown painted on her face “no. Nothing I can remember” she said.

You glanced down at Amy’s necklace. It was a pentagram “i like your necklace” you complemented. Amy glanced down at the necklace and smiled “thanks, Roy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents with all that devil stuff.” She laughed at the memory.

Sam huffed out a laugh beside you “Actually, it means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing.”, you raised your brows not expecting Sam to go full on encyclopedia. “Okay. Thank you, Unsolved Mysteries.” Dean said earning a bitch face from Sam

Dean took his arm off the back of the seat and leaned forward. “Here's the deal, ladies. The way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So if you've heard anything” Dean trailed off noticing the look Amy and Rachel give to each other “What is it?” You ask, tilting your head slightly.

“Well, it's just... I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk.” Rachel started “What do they talk about?” The brothers say in unison, creeping you out just a little bit “It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered on Centennial, like decades ago.” Rachel continues to explain.

Dean gives you and Sam a look you returned with a glance while Sam continues to listen to Rachel’s story “Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever.”

Sam and Dean looked at each other. “We got a lead,” you muttered under your breath to the brothers.

You sat in a chair to the side watching as Dean typed on the computer, coming up with nothing every time he pressed enter. Sam tried to take over the computer “let me try.” He said, but Dean smacked Sam’s hand away, “I got it,” he grumbled.

Sam sighed, pushing Dean's chair out of the way and scooted his closer, “dude!” Dean says hitting Sam’s shoulder, though the younger Winchester didn’t even spare him a glance “you’re such a control freak” Deans says and he scoots closer.

You smiled at their bickering, you didn’t miss the blow out fights you all used to have but you did miss the moments like these that you found yourself thinking about often causing a comforting feeling to spread in your chest.

“So angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?” Sam asks.

“Right” you confirmed, scooting closer to get a better look at the computer. “Well maybe it’s not murder” he says replacing ‘murder’ with ‘suicide’ in the search bar then pressing enter, an article popped up titled ‘suicide on Centennial’.

“I think he's got you beat Dean-o” you sarcastically remarked, earning a glare from Dean.

Sam opened the article dated back to April 25, 1981. “This was 1981. Constance Welch, twenty-four years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river.” Sam reads, Dean leaned forward “does it say why she did it?” He asked.

“Yeah” you answered, “what?” “Says an hour before they found her, she called 911. Apparently her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back, they aren't breathing. Both die.’” You read, sympathy settled in your gut for the woman.

Sam continued reading “‘Our babies were gone, and Constance just couldn't bear it,' said husband Joseph Welch." Sam says as he scrolled, a picture of the bridge you were at before showed itself on the screen “that bridge looks familiar to you?” Dean says.

SYLVANIA BRIDGE

By nightfall you, Sam, and Dean were back walking down the bridge, you all stopped to look over the railing down into the rushing river, “so this is where Constance took the swan dive” Deans said, before continuing on walking.

You and Sam followed “so you think they would’ve been here?” Sam asks Dean, Dean looks back at the two of you “well he’s chasing the same story and we're chasing him” Deans answered.

You sighed, continuing your walk. “Okay, so now what?” You and Sam simultaneously ask. You could tell Dean was purposefully not looking back at you and Sam “Now we keep digging until we find him. Might take a while.” Dean answered slowly.

You and Sam stop, glancing at each other before looking at Dean. Sam sighs “Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday-“ Dean cuts Sam off as he turns around “Monday. Right. The interview” he says, cutting a glance at you.

You shrugged, while you didn’t have any important plans like Sam, you still had to get home to Jason “i gotta get home Dean” you said.

“You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become a Lawyer? Marry your girl?” Dean asks, and something struck your heart, the thought of your first love marrying someone else, you pushed it away. “Maybe, why not?” Sam answered.

Dean looked at you “you gonna marry that guy hmm? Knowing he can't protect you? Being normal while knowing the truth about the things that come out at night?” He asked, stepping towards you.

You shrugged, getting irritated. “If that's what happens, yeah Dean, why is that so bad?” You questioned, you thought when you left Dean was happy for you, supportive at least but you could see now it was a facade.

“Do they even know the truth, i mean do they know about the things you’ve done?” Dean asks. Sam steps forward “ no and she’s not ever going to know” “that’s not gonna happen” both you and Sam said at the same time.

Dean paused, raising his eyebrows “Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are.” Dean said as he turned and kept walking.

You sighed, knowing that Dean was just upset. He wanted things to go back to how they were with you, your mom, Sam, John and him. He wanted his family back and you couldn’t fault him for it.

But the way he was going about it wasn’t the right way. Sam however feeds into it “and who’s that?” He asks. “You're one of us.” Dean answers, making Sam rush to get in front of Dean.

“No. I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life.” Sam finalized, Dean rolled his eyes “You have a responsibility to-“ Sam cut Dean off “To our parents? And their crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like.” He said before pointing to you, “she’s been on the receiving end of y/m/n’s anger about y/f/n’s death her whole life” he continued, your chest tightened a little at his words, you’d never admitted it to anyone other than Sam when you were barley thirteen.

“And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, they’re gone. And they aren’t coming back.”he finished. Dean grabbed Sam by his collar and shoved him up against the railing of the bridge, making you step forward “hey! Calm down” you shouted, Dean ignored you.

“Don’t ever talk about her like that”Dean warned before releasing Sam from his grip and continuing on his walk. Sam looked at you seeing your expression “y/n i-“ you cut him off “don’t, just don’t.”

You walked past him, it wasn’t what he said about your father that upset you, you’d accepted it a long time ago, but him telling Dean something you admitted to him after he found you crying, hit a nerve.

When you looked ahead your heart skipped a beat, not far ahead of you was Dean, but what caught your eye was the woman in the white dress standing on the ledge of the bridge.

“Sam.” Dean called, not taking his eyes off the woman, Sam moved to stand next to Dean and the tree of you watched the woman look at you before stepping off the ledge, you immediately sprint towards where she was, but when you got there she was gone “where’d she go?” Sam asked, “I don't know,” you said looking down at the river for the second time that night.

The sound of the impala starting immediately caught you and the brother’s attention, the headlights shined bright and the engine revved loudly. “Shit” you muttered. “Who’s driving your car?” Sam asks. Dean pulled the keys out of his pocket and you glance at them and roll your eyes “great”.

As soon as the words slipped past your lips the car began speeding towards the three of you, you didn’t waste any time taking off in a sprint, Sam and Dean weren’t far behind you and you could hear one of them yelling “go go run”.

They caught up to you fairly quickly thanks to their long legs, Sam grabbed your wrist pulling you with him as he jumped over the railing after Dean. Luckily he hadn’t let go because your foot slipped off of the side leaving you dangling over the river, holding on to nothing but Sam.

“Don’t let me go!” You shouted over the loud rushing of water below you. “It’s okay i got you” Sam said, pulling you back up, and this time you were careful with your footing.

You let out a breath “thanks” you huffed, Sam smiled “no problem”. His smile warms your heart and you fight the blush threatening to show on your cheeks. You looked back over the railing to see baby parked as if nothing happened.

Looking around you couldn’t spot Dean anywhere “where’s Dean?” You asked Sam. The both of you looked over the ledge, shouting Dean's name. After two calls you saw something crawl out of the water covered in mud “what!” It shouted.

It was Dean, “are you okay?” You shouted, Dean put up an OK sign with his hand “I’m super” he said. You and Sam smiled glancing at each other before climbing back over the railing.

Not long after Dean closed the hood of the impala “car alright?” Sam asked. “Yeah whatever she did to it, seems alright now. That Constance chick, what a bitch!” Dean shouted into the distance.

You came up beside him “well she doesn’t want us digging around that’s for sure” Sam said, and you hummed in agreement “So where's the job go from here, genius?” You asked Dean who just flicked the mud off of his hands in response.

Just then the wind blew and your nose caught the smell wafting from Dean making you cringe. You saw Sam making the same face before looking at Dean “you smell like a toilet” he said, you smiled, holding your laughter at the look on Dean's face.

“One room please” Dean said, dropping the card on the guest registry list, the old man at the front desk picked up the card eyeing Dean's muddy attire, before looking at you then Sam.

“You guys having a reunion or something?” The clerk asked, your brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?” Sam asked, speaking your mind. I had another guy, Burt Aframian came in with his wife. He came and bought out a room for the whole month.” The man said. Dean turned and gave you and Sam a look.

You stood beside Dean completely blocking the view of anyone looking while Sam picked the lock to the room your mother and John stayed in. The door creaked open and you followed Sammy into the room.

You looked around in shock and Sam yanked Dean into the room and closed the door. “Woah” was all Sam could muster up. The room was a mess as if they just vanished, a suitcase thrown over the bed, food wrappers were still on the nightstand.

And papers were still thumb tacked to the wall. You stepped over the ring of salt and further into the room not paying any attention to Dean sniffing the day's old burger. You moved to pick through the discarded suitcase that was unmistakably your mothers, not listening to the conversation Sam and Dean were having.

Your heart sped up feeling as if you were about to commit a crime when you opened the suitcase, you would’ve never heard the end of it if your mother ever caught you going through her personal belongings.

Her clothes were inside neatly stored in rows of shirts, pants and whatever else, however nothing could’ve prepared you when you pulled a knife out of the bottom. The blade was covered by a white sheath.

You pulled the knife out of the sheath to take a look at the blade. It was long about the size of a ruler, and the brand new white leather on the handle made your breath hitch.

It looked exactly the same as your mothers, the one your father had gifted her the day of your birth, you turned the knife to look at the bottom and your initials and a date was engraved in a small font. “Hey Sam?” You called, catching him and Dean's attention. “Yeah?” He said moving towards you.

“What’s today’s date?” You asked. Sam’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion but still pulled his phone out to check “it’s November second, why?”. You turned to face the brothers showing them the knife.

Dean opened his mouth to speak “is that-“ “no, it looks like hers but it has my initials and today’s date. What does that mean?” You asked. Sam and Dean looked at each other unsure themselves.

You excused yourself from the motel so you could call Jason and update him a bit, the phone rang a few times before Jason’s cheery voice greeted you ‘Hey Jason here, I couldn’t come to the phone. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you when I can’. Voicemail.

You started to feel that feeling settle in your stomach again. So you called again, and again voicemail. Every time. “Son of a bitch” you said tilting your head back. After a few more tries and still no luck you re-entered the room again.

Sam looked up at you from one of the two beds in the room. He turned off his phone, he must’ve been calling Jessica and had just about the same amount of luck as you.

You plopped down on the other bed letting out a breath, you and Sam sat in a comfortable silence until you broke it. “How’s college life treating you?” You asked, looking at him. Sam looked back at you from his seated position and smiled, “it’s great, yeah. Normal” he said.

You smiled, “I bet, can't imagine Sam Winchester at a college party” you laughed at the thought, Sam laughed along with you shaking his head “yeah no it’s not really my scene” he said. You smiled, “so, what have you been up to since you left hunting?” Sam asked you. You paused, huffing out a laugh i uh- I’ve been looking to join the FBI. Behavioral analyses specifically.” You admitted.

Sam’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, “The FBI? Y/n that’s great! I mean what-“ Sam cut himself off with a scoff.

You smiled “yeah i know i uh got into Yale, not long after i left and majored in criminal justice and psychology. Got through it pretty fast, thanks to hunting I mean it was pretty easy to grasp.” You shrugged.

“Y/n this is big! Does anybody know-“ Sam was cut off by Dean swinging the bathroom door open “know what?” He asked, grabbing his jacket off of the coat rack. “Uh nothing” you said before Sam could say anything.

Sam picked up on your hesitance and sent Dean a tight lipped smile. He looked between the two of you weirdly before shrugging it off. “Anyway, I'm starving. I'm gonna go grab something to eat at that diner down the street” Dean said “want anything?” He asked.

“No thanks” “no” you and Sam said. “You sure? Aframian’s buying” he said, both you and Sam declined again. Dean shrugged and stepped out of the door.

When the door closed you turned back to Sam “I haven’t told anyone. Just you.” you said, Sam looked at you with understanding. “Well maybe we’ll work together on a case,” he said with a smile. “You bet law boy”.

After the conversation ended, Sam began to fill you in on the woman in white legends that you missed earlier, but he wasn’t able to get very far in because your phone began to ring.

You picked it up hoping it’d be Jason, it wasn’t it was Dean. You sighed, answering “yeah?” You answered.

“Dude, five-oh take off.” You whipped your head to Sam “what about you” you asked standing up “they kinda spotted me. Go find our parents” he says then he hangs up.

“We gotta go, cops. They’ve got Dean already” you said. Sam moves to look out of the window but quickly backs away when he sees the cop start towards the room.

After you and Sam escaped you both split up, Sam went to speak to Constance’s husband and you went to figure out a way to get Dean out of the hole. Which wasn’t too hard, all you had to do was shoot a few rounds and then call it in, waiting for the cops to leave and let Dean do his part.

While you were waiting Sam called you “got anything?” You asked, “so the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. And she's buried behind her old house.” He said.

You looked at your surroundings, you weren’t far from the old Welch house “okay, how bout i meet you there?” You suggested, eyeing the small blue car you were passing. “Wait, what about Dean?” He asked

you smirked “Deans fine, trust me”. Sam nodded, though you couldn’t see “and uh, how do you plan to get there?” He asked, and just as he finished his question he heard a car alarm go off, he scoffed with a smile “you're stealing a car?” He said.

You shrugged “what can i say Sammy, old habits die hard”. Sam rolled his eyes “okay meet you there”

While you were driving your phone rang again, the id wasn’t one you knew but you answered none the less. “Hello?” You said.

“Sam’s in trouble” Dean's voice rang out. Your eyebrows furrowed “what how?” You asked, speeding the car up a little. “No time to explain, just get to the Welch house” he said before hanging up. “Damn it Sam” you said driving way past speeding limits.

When you arrived you started to hear gunshots, telling you that either of them beat you there. You stopped the car seeing Dean holding his shotgun, shooting at Constance’s spirit with a… salt round?

You shook off your confusion before getting out of the car and running towards him. But before you reached them the impala took off and crashed into the side of the house. Suddenly the voice rang through your head ‘I can never go home’ you almost laughed to yourself. He took her home.

Hurriedly you ran towards the passenger side beside Dean. “Sam! Sam, you okay?” Dean asked, Sam groaned, causing relief to spread through you “I think..” Sam said.

“Can you move?” You asked. Sam nodded his head “yeah, can you help me” he asked, and Dean helped Sam out of the car.

When Sam was out of the car you noticed Constance holding a frame, most likely of her family, until she looked up at the tree of you and dropped the frame, stepping out of the way and pushing you guys against the car with the dresser.

You groaned when the dresser hit your hips and it was for sure to leave a bruise, even with you and the boys combined strength you couldn’t move the dresser.

Constance stepped towards you with malice in her eyes, but stopped when the lights started flickering. You looked around in confusion at her confusion.

Then water began flowing down the stairs and you saw shadows of two small children at the top. ‘You’ve come home to us mommy’ the children said, sending goosebumps down your spine.

Suddenly the children were behind Constance, she turned and looked at the children who embraced her in a hug causing her to scream, soon enough all three spirits were reduced to a puddle on the floor.

The hold on the dresser disappeared and you guys were able to push the dresser off of you. You walked over to the puddle with Sam and Dean in tow “ So this is where she drowned her kids.” Dean said.

You and Sam nodded “that’s why she could never go home, she was too scared to face them” Sam replied.

You frowned “it’s tragic what heartbreak can do to someone” you said. There was a silence before Dean slapped Sam’s chest “you found her weak spot. Nice work Sammy” Dean complemented proudly. Sam winced at the impact but shrugged it off with a laugh.

“Yeah, I wish I could say the Same to you. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?” Sam joked “Hey. Saved your ass.” Dean replied, moving to look at the car. “I'll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car?” Dean turned around to look at Sam. “I'll kill you.” He pointed. You and Sam looked at each other with huge grins

And just like that you were back on the road headed home. Sam in the passenger seat held a flashlight so he could see the map “okay, here’s where they went. It’s called black Water Ridge, Colorado” Sam said.

You leaned forward looking over his shoulder “how far?” You asked. Sam glanced back at you before looking at the map “about six hundred miles” he answered. You hummed, sitting back in your seat.

Dean nodded along to the music “Hey, if we shag ass we could make it by morning.” He said. You and Sam paused glancing at each other. “Dean-“ you started but was cut off by Dean “you’re not coming” he said nodding. “The interview's in like, ten hours. I gotta be there.” Sam says, Dean looks back at you through the rear view mirror.

“I have a job Dean… and Jason’s expecting me-“ Dean cut you off “yeah whatever, I’ll take you home” he said, you could hear the disappointment in his tone. You sighed

laying your head against the headrest.

When you got to Sam's apartment you waited for him and Dean to say their goodbyes before you got out of the car calling his name. 

He turned around and you wrapped your arms around him. He hugged you back with a laugh, “it was good seeing you sammy” you said, pulling away. He nodded “yeah, you too… see you at work?” he asked. 

You smiled, nodding “see you at work” you confirmed. Before getting back in the car, the front seat this time. Before pulling off, Dean looked at you with a smirk causing you to roll your eyes. “Knock it off Winchester,” you joked.

 Dean laughed before pulling off. You weren't able to get very far before your stomach began burning like molten hot lava in your organs. 

You whimpered, holding your stomach in pain. The sound caught the older Winchester's attention as he began shaking you and saying something you couldn't make out. 

But what you could make out were the flashing images in your head. Blood and fire. It was everywhere like a massacre. 

When the images went away the pain faded slightly and you were finally able to say “Dean, go back, we have to go back.” the look in your eyes must've scared him because he didn't waste any time swerving the car around.

When you got back to sams apartment it was already on fire and before the vehicle was stopped you were out ant running towards it

Dean wasn’t far behind you and it didn’t take any time for you to reach his apartment, Dean kicked down the door and you both ran in. Sam was on his bed staring up at the ceiling in shock shouting Jess's name.

As much as you wished you could save the girl she was already gone so you and Dean dragged Sam out of the apartment, it wasn’t an easy fight given Sam’s height and strength but you did it nonetheless.

However getting Sam out didn’t stop the burning feeling in your stomach, the ambulance arrived on the scene officially announcing Jessica dead, and you saw the emotion drain from Sam’s face, it was as if a switch flipped inside of him, he walked off leaving you with Dean.

You looked at the older Winchester with teary eyes “Dean you have to take me home. Please.” You begged. Dean looked at you with sorrow as if he already knew. You both knew what it meant but you wouldn’t believe it. No you wouldn’t accept it. He saw the inner turmoil in your eyes and nodded “okay, let’s go.” He said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

He led you back to the car where Sam had been putting a shotgun together with tears in his eyes. He looked at you then Dean, before shaking his head, throwing the gun back into the trunk. “We got work to do”

On the drive Dean quietly filled Sam in on what happened with you, though you weren’t too sure he was listening. You weren’t listening either, you were busy calling Jason’s phone over and over and over.

Every time the call went to voicemail the burning sensation got worse. When Dean parked outside of your apartment building you wasted no time getting out.

You heard both of their doors open as well and Dean called your name. You turned around to look at him, eye’s nothing but teary. “You want us to come with?” He asked. You looked between him and Sam, who looked like he couldn’t handle much more tonight.

You shook your head not trusting your voice enough to speak. Dean nodded “we’ll be right here if you need us” he said. You nodded, before turning around and continuing your walk.

The whole way to your apartment you held your new knife in your hand, when you reached your door you paused, not sure if you really wanted to enter, however you pushed the feeling down and opened the door.

Immediately the smell of blood hit you, the metallic smell seemed so strong it almost gave you a headache. Tears began to freely fall down your face when you saw the puddle of blood leaking from the other side of the kitchen counter.

Carefully you stepped over the pool of blood and walked further in, that’s when you saw him. He was on the floor, his face bruised and neck slashed.

Your heart shattered, and you began to hyperventilate as you dropped to your knees, not caring anymore about his blood staining your clothes.

You placed a soft hand on his face, it was still warm and your tears dripped onto his cheeks “please, Jason please im sorry. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have left. I could've protected you. I'm so sorry” you sobbed.

The longer you looked at him the more it hurt. You began to shiver from the feeling of your clothes soaked with his blood and the heartbreak that was crushing your chest.

But you didn’t care “no, no, no, this wasn’t supposed to happen to you.” You laid your head against his chest, hoping to hear a heartbeat.

But it was silent. Your sobs filled the air around you, until you heard footsteps enter the apartment.

You picked up the previously discarded knife with shaky unstable hands ready to fight whoever, but it was just Sam and Dean.

You saw Dean first, he stopped in shock and Sam wasn’t far behind. They took in the scene, your bruised bleeding boyfriend, and your completely broken state.

You seemed to be covered in his blood which made it worse. Neither of the brothers knew what to say or do and Sam looked on the verge of crying again too.

Dean moved to pick you up out of the bloody mess until he saw bloody writing on the wall ‘you were too late’.

Sam saw what his brother was looking at,and you turned to see. The bloody letters dripped down the wall as if it was still fresh.

Dean shook his head, picking you up from the ground. You hardly made any effort to fight him off and Dean thanked God for it because even though you were now a grown woman, he still saw you as that little girl he always protected. And you need that now more than ever.

[yumenoberu]

Where Roses Bloom Series

Kyoya Ootori x fem!reader

status: UPDATING

started: 1/5/25

last updated: 1/5/25

genre: slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, coming of age, found family, fluff, drama, angst

warnings: heavy MANGA SPOILERS for some chapters (tagged)

SYNOPSIS:

Praised and respected for her poised and warm demeanor, the prestigious Ouran Host Club’s Elegant Type and sole hostess, Y/n L/n, upholds her title with rightful dignity and thanks.

Among her unconventional group of cheerful and loving friends—that are more like family, she believes she possesses everything to ever hope for.

Regrettably however, all appears to be in perfect harmony except for the mutual, blazing contempt she has for her fellow Host Club member, Kyoya Ootori—a man she rightfully loathes for his cold pragmatism, calculating cynicism, and infuriating arrogance.

Even despite their differing values and perspectives, could it be possible for the proud two to come and realize that either was never as irredeemable as they seemed—and could this understanding be the key to bringing the unlikely pair together, as friends or more?

CHAPTER LIST:

❀ -> filler

0 ➯ Prologue

1 ➯ Starting Today, You Are A Host!

2 ➯ The Job of A Highschool Host

3 ➯ Beware the Physical Exam!

4 ➯ Attack of the Lady Manager!

5 ➯ The Twins Fight!

6 ➯ The Gradeschool Host is the Naughty Type!

7 ➯ Jungle Pool SOS!

8 ➯ The Sun, the Sea, and the Host Club!

8.5 ➯ Ouran Suspense Theatre ❀

9 ➯ A Challenge from the Lobelia Girls Academy!

10 ➯ A Day in the Life of the Fujioka Family!

11 ➯ Big Brother is a Prince!

12 ➯ Covering the Famous Host Club!

13 ➯ The Hosts in Wonderland! ❀

14 ➯ Y/n in Wonderland!

15 ➯ Honey’s Three Bitter Days!

16 ➯ A Host Entertains Even in the Rain!

17 ➯ The Refreshing Battle in Karuizawa!

18 ➯ Operation Haruhi and Hikaru’s First Date!

19 ➯ The Fair, the Duel, and the King!

20 ➯ Finding the Soup of Memories!

21 ➯ Kyoya’s Reluctant Day Out!

22 ➯ Chika’s “Down With Honey” Declaration!

23 ➯ Lobelia Girls Academy Strikes Back!

24 ➯ Until the Day It Becomes a Pumpkin!

25 ➯ Mori Has an Apprentice Candidate!

26 ➯ Tamaki’s Unwitting Depression

27 ➯ In Her Loving Memory

28 ➯ Honey’s Cursed Love!

29 ➯ Love in Different Ways

30 ➯ The Host Club’s Great Divide!

31 ➯ A Debt of Kindness

More to come…

general masterlist

[luxthestrange]

Cakes Mc Has Given the Humans!

Solomon:

Minhyeok:

Minhyeok: Platonic right?...

Mc*Starring at him full of affection*...

Minhyeok*Sweating and blushing, wanting it not to be platonic*P-Platonic right?

Kim Family:

The Kim's + Mc family game night gets intense...things get said-

...ok the actual cake you sent them-

Part 3 of:

[acid-ixx]

worthless speculations (a loving family, an unpalatable desire drabble)

ft. yandere superfam x gn! neglected spouse reader x yandere batfam

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

— masterlist ! ; related post !

all it took was a candid shot of the resident, widowed journalist who's not-so subtly hiding his affair with the infamous spouse of bruce wayne to spark immediately rumors.

for weeks, it seems, the table has once been turned on bruce as you've found yourself the center of attention, spending time with your new family, with the very man who has come to save you months ago from the cruel hands of the paparazzi.

it started with the first picture, which quickly blew up into many photographs in such a short span.

one of a simple date, where some stranger, a fan of you, saw you at a park, having a cute picnic with both clark and jon. at first, most would assume that clark's probably just a close cousin of yours, with just a kid you're babysitting, right?

wrong. the proximity you have with the unknown man is too intimate. someone's got a close shot, and through the lenses, you wouldn't even need a damn interpreter to just see how his palms are rested against your thighs, massaging occasionally without thought nor pattern, as if it's been a natural habit of his; or how in another shot, he handfeeds you the sandwich, then takes a bite in the same spot you have bitten. he doesn't take a napkin to wipe away the remaining condiment on your lips, and—

oh!

he licks at his thumb then quickly brings his lips near yours, closing the space in between with a peck that draws out too long to be even considered remotely platonic.

a kiss packed with longing and desire.

his tongue sneakily swipes at the remaining cream on the side of your tongue. your nose crinkles and you swat his face away, but you don't look disgusted, don't even pull away as you softly swipe away the strands of hair framing his glasses.

some commentor mentions how warm your face looked, another replies with just how your fingers quickly made their way to fiddle with the man's arm in another candid photo.

the child beside you, meanwhile, makes a grossed face, cringing at the obvious romance— then he clings to you, slapping his dad (?) away from you. his hands are wrapped around your waist, and click!

it looks like the kid's looking up at you with puppy eyes, mumbling something whilst you laugh and ruffle his hair. another spectator managed to capture a video.

then a lipreader on twitter made out the words the kid is saying. he's begging for ice cream, he says with a pout, neapolitan, he says, and that he made sure to eat all the vegetables in his sandwich. then he grins when you giggle at him and whip your head to the man beside you who replies with:

"oh, sweetie, don't fall for his lies; he just sneaked junked food last night to his bedroom."

the kid, who's now famously referred to as jon, your precious little baby, as you love to call him — and since the internet is so obsessed with drama, a lot of people were smart enough to piece the puzzle together, the man you're with is clark kent — sticks his tongue out his father, then stubbornly crosses his arm yet just as quickly return to his begging.

the person recording hidden behind the bush had to do a double take, their hands shook when the audio recording picked up your faint whispers, and they were sure to gods that you referred to yourself as... as clark's spouse?!

and did jon just call you his parent?

you're brave— no, scratch that, the people you're with are even braver.

it's like they're making it obvious that you've been claimed into another family; that you oh-so easily estranged yourself from the wayne's to live a mundane, yet peaceful, loving life with the kent's just to escape the constant torment of living under an empty roof.

but still, to be that obvious is a dangerous move, isn't it?

to show up in public, unannounced, in matching trio outfits, sometimes even appearing with another unknown figure who always has shades on, to a crowd of people who take pictures of you every moment is such an iconic, yet ruining admission that you've basically (and rightfully) had an affair with no shame.

after all, who would ever think of cheating on a billionaire, one of the most famous, too!? that's basically asking for a divorce, which leads to losing all your assets. most socialites who marry into old money families are aware that even if your partner cheats, you'll still be strong enough to bear through the pain, but god are you brave for making another scene just some days after, in a cinema no less without a care in the world if the people around you watched your barely disguised pda.

well, you aren't most socialites to begin with, you've only ever married for convenience.

even when news stations were going haywire for the rumors, when so many commentators on tiktok, podcasts on twitch and youtube have you as their main topic of the week— your little family is nonchalant about everything.

it was the number one trending tag, the only headline every person focused on.

and the best (or worst in your case) part of it all, is that this was all perfectly curated by your own affair partner.

a little handholding, soft touches and caresses on your cheeks, muscled palms resting comfortably on your shoulders, and jon's tiny hands latching onto your body, nuzzling on the expanse of your stomach whilst his head tilts up to look at you with the widest puppy eyes, asking you to buy him more sweets with his freckled smiled and toothy grin— it creates this immaculate opportunity for passerby's with enough knowledge about the wayne's messy relationship status to immediately catch on to the infamous face of bruce's poor, naive spouse now in a date.

and it's not even the first date you were all caught together.

who wouldn't whip their phone out faster than the well-known speedsters to conspicuously take shots of your seemingly happy and satisfied composure?

unlike with all the moments where you are with bruce, pictures of your uncomfortable hold on his shoulders, the stares from a distance never directed at you from galas, or the way your hands quickly unwrap from his the moment your magazine pictures are finished— you look refreshed, downright gleaming brighter than the sun that could even make some senile, grumpy man smile.

your small fanbase grows quickly: people never knew just how gorgeous you are not until they see your lips quirked up, mischievously peppering the unknown child with kisses, then standing on your tippy toes next to the hulking figure beside you to give him a gentle peck on the lips.

in your current place at the farmer's market, you are glowing like a ray of sunshine, never before had the crowd ever seen you without a strained smile, never seen your eager eyes at your affair partner's sweet surprises, never seen you so willing to pick up your child and pepper his face with kisses all over his face at yet another cheesy joke he concocted.

and it's perfectly become a topic of gossip for the citizens of gotham and metropolis on the seemingly new, and unexpected affair of one of the richest man in the world's spouse.

well, if they could even call you bruce's spouse, not when his eyes are always elsewhere. not when there's been dozens of news highlighting the gossips about bruce's past affairs.

and right now, it seems you're not even wearing the diamond encrusted ring on your finger anymore. the longer you are exposed to the public, the more people notice the lack of bedazzled jewelry, or even notice

and instead, you sport a simple silver promise band on your left hand, which somehow gleams brighter than your previous ring. you wore more casual clothes, sometimes match color schemes with your little family. most of the time, you wear your affair partner's huge jackets and let it drape across your body.

others say your lazy efforts, your carelessness compared to your rigid styles before felt more befitting for you— and you are... cuter whenever they see you beside clark to assist him with his office work with a matching messenger bag hanging off your shoulders.

some people were so invested in your relationship, a close-up zoom in on clark's wallet revealed a picture of your family with the addition of ma and pa kent in his wallet's clear frame. his fond smile while looking at the photo made fangirls swoon.

and with you always trying to reach atop the nest you call his hair, always ruffling it to fix the mess, people began seeing you two as the couple goals, an embodiment of what years of love looked like despite only being together for months in their; people are unaware of how long your affair has been.

never knew clark has set his sights on you since the day of your marriage with bruce.

but it's alright if people only see the surface level of his devotion to you—

because at least his beloved is thriving.

and at least their support, their obsession over your relationship with him helps in tying you even closer to him—

without your complaints, without your hesitation.

because you love him, and he loves you. jon and even conner has warmed up to you. they all love you, and no amount of material compensation bruce throws at you can amount to the dedication and patience clark has burnt off for years to scoop you in his arms at your lowest moments.

just like a true superhero does.

he loves seeing you as the best version of yourself everyday, and you only do so because you're with him and the people who actually love you, only them.

some people who bumped shoulders with you every time you dropped jon off to school said you even smelled even less intense, like you didn't feel the need to bathe in expensive perfumes anymore. you are softer now, more homely and buzzed with a familial joy none has ever seen or felt in you before.

unlike last time, you're more confident in greetings. reducing your appearances in galas lessened your eyebags. you were the epitome of new beginnings, a symbol for citizens that maybe second chances aren't too scare in the first place.

people whisper that you've probably divorced bruce, or that your previous husband doesn't give a damn about your affair.

a person occasionally tweets questions regarding your affair, if bruce is aware about the entire thing, if it hurts his ego, or if he doesn't care at all. his fanbase still loves him, obviously. they still see him as their beloved problematic playboy, but it's concerning how others sweep your affair under the rug with every new gala published, or how news about his children sometimes overthrows the current gossip of the day about you.

of course, the media feeds off the drama like bottom feeders. there's a resurgence of even more theories regarding your complicated relationships. one person even briefly mentioned what a coincidence it is that the dick grayson is found to be eating at an adjacent restaurant beside the one you and clark were found out.

there was a trending tweet once, one that highlighted the strangeness of your previous children's sudden frequent appearances in metropolis too.

others argue it's just an overreaction, but nobody ever denied that claim itself.

some people are anticipating bruce's reaction to the tweet, too. would he stay silent, would he grovel at your feet, or is this some sort of competition between these two?

there's a conspiracy that bruce is letting all the drama simmer down, that this may be a publicity stunt. a smaller fanbase that liked your complex relationship with the man wanted you both to return together, many argue that you look better off with him— clark feels the urge to find each and every individual who's stated this if not for your current laughs in the kitchen with jon distracting him from darkening thoughts at every annoying theory.

though most of the time, thankfully, others defend your actions and clark's, even stating that it's right that the once silent and solitary spouse of bruce deserves at least decent treatment; because from all the gathered news you before, it's always just you who fusses over bruce's children like a worried hen, it's always you who adjusts and kisses your husband's ties with a fond, yet tired smile.

and some miss those softer moments they've seen on screen, even bruce himself finds his fingers dangling on his past ties in his office, unknowingly reminiscing on the warm lips that once held the same tie. and the hot dinner left cold and diverse snacks untouched always left beside his desk, and your worried coo every night he stayed up late, and...

and just how much of a perfect spouse you actually are.

it's only when it's too late, when you're too deep into your romance with clark that he finally discovers how much he misses you, your concerned whispers, your frustrated quirk of the eyebrows that you hide from him every time he rejects your advancement, your constant presence in his life until it felt like it was never there, the way you weaved yourself so easily into his life and slipped away just as quickly because of his stupidity.

in a moment of weakness one evening, when restlessness and the yearning for your soft touch urged him once more, bruce finally gained the courage to confront all the rage about you—

he tells himself it's out of curiosity, just that.

nothing else, but god, the sight of you with someone else for once hurts more than intended.

it punches him even more in the gut once he realizes that you're with his coworker, his teammate, his trusted friend who displays himself as the perfect puzzle piece beside you in every article. you don't wear your old ring, don't even wear a single piece of clothing in your old wardrobe full of luxury items.

you're different, but you're still you... just better off without him, without his children, without alfred or the comfort and protection of the manor.

alluring as you've always been, but you shine even brighter now, draped in gentle sunlight that dims in comparison to you.

and the longer he stares at your pictures, at your smile, the way your cheeks would slot so perfectly between his palms, and your hair that he knows he'd soon love to bury his nose in—

the easier it is for his hands to make its way to his contacts, ready to call alfred and his children—

and he finds himself concocting a plan faster than the need for rest swept away from his thoughts when he sees your silver band, the same design he found one day on clark's fingers after a mission.

of course, bruce is aware that he has to deal with the consequences of his actions, that his idiocracy led him at a stalemate where he's aware that your chances of returning to him is a measly zero—

but heaven forbid him, for he's still bruce. he's no lesser than the cunning, strategic vigilante he's known to be.

he'll always be one step ahead, and rummaging through the records on his desks reveals no sign of divorce papers, no legal precautions taken for custody and no angry relative of yours (who only sold you off to him to earn their share of profit) angrily contacting him.

it'll be one hell of a night, but it doesn't matter.

why?

the headline and content for the next day on a newspaper for the gotham news—?

"y/n wayne, spouse of famous philanthropist, billionaire bruce wayne found back in the arms of their old flame—?"

"there's been newer speculations, of y/n's supposed ex-husband and their children finally reconciling with each after after months of rumors regarding whether their divorce is real or not."

"—and after some investigations and a statement from the husband, bruce wayne, himself; it was finally confirmed that their divorce, was in fact, never legally processed— because, as it turns out, it was never filed at all."

a/n: that took a dark turn HAHAHAH you guys think this will be something cutesy? NO! this is my late april fool's attempt at fluff bec i love drama. please comment about what you think about this and let me hope to god this gains interaction </33 i like writing affectionate scenes with a tinge of insanity scattered in between.

also hive minds and parasocial relationships are seriously creepy to think about. that's why i tend to not often disclose personal things relating to me because of how easy it is to track someone and their life down 😭 this has been sitting on my drafts for a long time and i nearly forgot about it until someone reminded me to write for this series soo... transitioning pov's is genuinely such a struggle btw, ugh ☠️ hope u guys enjoyed this bec this is by far the hardest drabble to write.

taglist:

@imjustasimp132, @mimiiiiiiiiisstuff, @chericia, @queenofspades403, @naina326, @neerathebrightstar, @lilyalone, @sweetconnoisseurgardener, @nickey-diano, @tsuniio, @ssak-i, @kore-of-the-underworld, @lollipoppersposts, @peptox, @kdjhubby, @weirdcore-fantasy, @thypplover, @asdfghjklgayblog, @prince-nikko, @phoenixgurl030, @antionwithadrawingpen, @circe143, @ferchu0406, @kittzu, @yuyuzi-ling, @moonieper, @esthxio, @ryuushou, @nickey-diano, @ssak-i.

[gothamite-rambler]

Barbara: You were in diapers when I was gracing the world with my presence. I was out there doing great things while you were just a little tyke. I was already potty trained, dude. I could talk by then.

Dick: Babs, I'm only a few years younger than you.

Barbara (continuing to tease): You were an itty bitty goofy baby.

Dick (retorting back): And you were a toddler.

Barbara: Those years when you were all chubby and drooling were so… quiet, you know?

Dick: Yes, even in a dull world, I was still adorable.

They shared a knowing smile, then went back to watching Bridgeton.

[twice-inamillion]

A Surprising Christmas 

Fluff 

Chapter 242

3120 Words

(The members and the children celebrate Christmas at their new house. There are many gifts and new things for everyone. The children get to room together for the first time.) 

Two days before Christmas, you and Jihyo take a trip to the new house. Construction was completed three weeks ago, so the main focus now is on furnishing the property.

Luckily, you got help from your wife, Jihyo, who helped you pick out the furniture for the living room, most of the rooms, and the appliances for the kitchen. She secretly asked the members for their preferred rooms a few months ago to make it easier to move in a day.

The two of you decided to surprise the members, mainly the children, and host Christmas at their new home. “The babies are going to be so surprised!” says Jihyo enthusiastically.

“They deserve it, deserve the best,” as you pull in Jihyo and kiss her on the forehead. 

“I’m going to bring out the presents from the storage room.”

“Sure, I’ll stay and finish decorating the Christmas tree.” 

Seeing Jihyo decorating the tree makes you realize how much has changed during these past few years. Going from sneaking out with Jihyo to having children and even being married to her.

“I can’t wait to see the children’s faces.”

“They’ll be so happy when they see this giant tree. These past few days, they’ve been pointing to the small Christmas tree in the living room and even looking under it,” says Jihyo. 

“They’re going to go wild when they see all the gifts they get this year.” 

Jihyo smiles and says, “I really want to see baby Daeun open up her gifts; she’s been crawling and tearing up paper these past few weeks.” 

“Haha, Dahyun’s been taking so many pictures of her, too.” 

“Alright, oppa, let’s finish up so we can head back home and prepare!”

————

It’s Christmas Eve, and the members, alongside the children, are enjoying a meal that the older members and you helped prepare. They share memories that they’ve made these past few months while on tour and the goals they have for the future.

On the other hand, the children sitting next to each other give their bread to Daeun, who recently started eating on her own. 

They watch as Daeun waves the bread from her high chair before putting it in her mouth. Jisoo laughs as she sees Daeun lick the bread before offering it to Ari, who is looking at her. 

The mothers can’t help but find Daeun interacting with her sisters adorable. Dahyun, the proud mother, boasts about Daeun’s recent achievements over the past few weeks.

“Daeun has tried to stand up independently and can hold herself for two seconds!”

Jihyo Mina responds, “Savor the mementos because before you know it, she’ll start walking, and you’ll be chasing after her.”

The members laugh and look at Ari and Jisoo who are known to run around the house whenever they are playing with each other. 

You don’t want to interrupt their conversation, but it’s time to call it early, “Alright, everyone, let’s call it a night and get to sleep. Tomorrow is a big day; ensure you’re all in the living room by four in the morning.”

Chaeyoung whines, “Oppa, but that’s too early!”

“You can stay if you want, but you’ll miss out on the Christmas presents.”

“Fine, I’ll get up.”

A few hours later, most of the members are in the living room with the kids sleeping on the couch. You help take the suitcases into the cars while the mothers place their children inside the cars. 

With everyone ready, you head to the new house before sunrise, only stopping for coffee.

As you all pull up to the front gate of the residence, Jihyo presses the door remote, allowing the vehicles to enter your new home. 

The lights up as you pull up to the front of the house. Tzuyu seems to be the most excited out of the bunch as her eyes shine to enter. “It looks so pretty from the outside. Is it okay for us to explore a bit?” 

Jihyo responds, “Let's bring the kids in and the suitcases first; if we have time, we can explore a bit.”

With everyone in agreement, the members help bring in the suitcases while the mothers place a large mat in the living room for the children to sleep in.

Chaeyoung goes in, makes her way to the large Christmas tree in the living room, and turns it on. “So many gifts! Which one is mine?” 

“Chaeyoung yah, try to get some rest!”

Startled by Jihyo, she finds a spot in the living room and wraps herself in a blanket before falling asleep. The members continue afterward, forming a barrier around the children as they sleep.

Somehow, you’re woken up with a heavy presence on your chest; you open your eyes and see Jisoo sleeping on top of you. She’s drooling on your shirt, her arms extended. 

Suddenly, you feel someone grabbing your arm and a small little head. You turn around and see Hina trying to work her way to the side of you. Once she’s comfortable, you try to go back to sleep when you see a small figure under a large blanket. 

From under the blanket, you see Ari crawling; she then pokes her head out and smiles. Ari stands and begins to run towards you and jumps, landing on your stomach and waking up Jisoo. 

Jisoo lifts her head and shouts at Ari, who gets up and begins to run around. This results in Hina waking up teary-eyed and wondering what's going on. The members start to wake up and watch as you stop them by grabbing onto the back of their pajamas. Their bodies are suspended in the air, their arms and legs squirming as they try to get back to the ground. 

“Since Ari and Jisoo are having a hard time, maybe we should ask Santa to take back his presents?” says Jihyo.

The children look up, shocked, and say, “No! Santa, no!” and look at you. 

“Maybe if you two apologize, Santa will be okay with Ari and Jisoo keeping the presents.” They nod, and you put them on the floor. They run back to their mothers and say, “Sorry, mommy.”

Daeun wakes up a few minutes later, crawls to you, and sits on the mat with her arms extended. “Do you want me to pick you up?” Daeun smiles; you pick her up and place her on your lap. 

“Alright, since everyone is awake, we can start opening the presents.” 

All the kids raise their heads up by Jihyo’s words and gather around the presents near the large Christmas tree. “Unnie, is it okay if I pass the presents to the babies?” asks Tzuyu.

The mother's nods, and Jihyo replies, “Yes, of course.” Tzuyu smiles and sits next to the large pile of presents. She looks through the numerous wrapped boxes and asks, “Is it okay if I start with Daeun?” 

The babies look up at Tzuyu and nod, with Jisoo saying, “Yea… Daeun, a baby.”

“Aww, you three are such good older sisters.” 

Jisoo, Ari, and Hina smile and watch as Tzuyu gives Daeun the first gift. Daeun looks at the wrapped box before grabbing it and smacking it against the mat. Jisoo grabs the box and says, “Jisoo, help baby Da-eun.” She pokes a hole with her finger and rips the side of the box. Jisoo rips the remaining wrapping before giving it to you, “Open box, Daddy.”

You open the box, leave it slightly open, and give it back to Jisoo. She takes out the stuffed toy and hands it to Daeun. “Jisoo is open for Daeun,” and she hands her a white stuffed tofu.

The members clap at Jisoo’s willingness to help out the maknae of the family. “Jisoo is doing such a good job as a big sister,” says Nayeon.

Jisoo smiles and goes towards Tzuyu, “Jisoo help, unnie.” Tzuyu replies, “Yes, I’ll tell you who to give the presents to.” Jisoo nods and extends her hands as Tzuyu calls out names. She makes sure that each person receives their present in their hands before making her way back to Tzuyu. 

At the end, Jisoo sits on the mat, exhausted but satisfied with the compliments. She grabs her gift and opens it, ripping the paper and showing it to her sisters.

“Now, for the last present,” says Jihyo. She looks at you, giving you a slight nod. You go towards the garage and grab a slightly opened large box. You walk back to the living room and see that all the wrapping is cleaned up. 

“Now that we are living in this large house, we noticed that most of it is open space; we have a large background and even a small forest to the end. As you all grow up, we know how active you girls are going to be, so your daddy and I decided to give you something that will protect you all if you decide to explore.” 

You place the box in the middle and see the girls interested. They move slowly, with Ari touching the box, and it suddenly shakes. She yelps and hides behind Jisoo, who tries to act bravely in front of her younger siblings. She walks towards it and flips the top when a golden head pops up. The sisters look at each other and peek their heads inside the box. A small bark startles them when they see a puppy in golden fur jump, which causes them to laugh.

“Puppy! Puppy!” 

The puppy pushes the box, which causes it to tip over, allowing it to get out and run around the living room. The children laugh as the small puppy runs around, wagging its tail from excitement. Jisoo runs after it and manages to catch it; the puppy wiggles around as it barks.

Ari and Hina approach Jisoo, who is hugging it, “Touch, puppy?” Jisoo nods and holds the puppy so her sisters can pet its head. 

After petting it, Hina walks towards you and shyly asks, “H…Hina play puppy?” You look at Mina and Jisoo, who approves, “Yes, you can take the puppy outside, and I’ll go with you all to watch you.”

Hina smiles and hugs you with a quick kiss on the cheek. The members find it cute since Hina is usually reserved, so this is surprising.

With the children outside, the members decide to open their presents; most of them are clothing, makeup, or things they can use for everyday tasks. It is when they open the long boxes that they start to burst out laughing. 

“Fuck him! If he wasn’t with the children, I would give him a piece of my mind,” says Jeongyeon.

“It’s just a joke,” responds Sana.

“Yeah, unnie. Take it easy and put it to good use instead,” says Chaeyoung as she waves a red dildo in the shape of your member.

Jeongyeon replies, “Disgusting, I can’t.” 

“If you don’t want it, then you can give it to me,” taunts Momo. “It even has veins and everything, I wouldn’t mind having two,” she says as she winks. The members laugh at Jeongyeon’s expression as they hold the dildos you gifted them in their individual colors. 

After having fun teasing each other with their dildos, Sana mentions wanting to tour the house. As you watch the kids playing with the play, they agree and pick everything up before leaving the living room. 

Jihyo, knowing the layout of the house, tells the rest that she will be in charge of the tour. They walk up the stairs to the second floor and see the first room when you come out of the hallway. “Most of the rooms are slightly furnished, and once you choose your room, you can decorate it however you want.” They walk in and notice how much bigger it is compared to their old room. 

“Yes, our own bathroom! Finally! No more sharing!” says Chaeyoung with much enthusiasm. The members laugh but also agree to the nice change. 

“This floor has both full rooms and half rooms. The full rooms have their own bathroom and walk-in closet while the half rooms only have the walk-in closet.”

“I want a full room!” shouts Nayeon.

“Me too!” says Momo.

“Relax, everyone is getting a full room. The half room is for the kids.”

They're surprised by the amount of space in the room and the walk-in closet, “I really like it. I think all my stuff will fit inside,” says Sana.

After exiting, they visit one of the half rooms, “Ideally, this would be for the kids or future kids you may have. If not an office space.” 

They continue to walk down the hallway and see multiple powder rooms throughout the different wings of the house, as well as a reading room. 

The third floor is the same; the only difference is the master room and one of the half rooms, which have three beds and closets full of clothes. “Aww, that’s cute; the kids get to be roommates this time around.” 

“Should I buy them a Lego set so they can decorate their room?” she asks herself. 

They then move to the basement floor, where three doors lead them to different areas. One door that has a label with areas such as theater, storage room, and panic room. The other two have a tunnel to the garage and a detached garage, and the other has a keypad with the label “Playrooms”.

“Is that what I think it is?” asks Momo as she stares at the door. 

“I can’t wait to use it, can I go inside unnie?” asks Chaeyoung.

“It’s not ready yet. Maybe in a week or two,” replies Jihyo.

Disappointed, they both go in the door that leads them into the theater. They look at the single couches and large sofas. Tzuyu runs to one of the sofas and jumps on it before commenting on how comfortable it is. They continue to the game room, which has multiple games and a large table and shelves of games. 

After viewing most of the basement floor, they work up to the first floor. Jihyo shows them the family room, library, laundry room, main kitchen, and secondary kitchen. 

After viewing most of the house, they decide on what rooms to use. Jihyo mentions that the rooms on the second floor are free while the rooms on the third floor are saved for the mothers and the children. Hearing that, the members run to choose their rooms. 

An hour later, Jihyo, Mina, and Dahyun take a walk to look at the daycare you asked for to be built. Jihyo drives the golf cart across the property to the center. They then see you and the rest of the girls playing on the play structure while the puppy sleeps in the grass.

“What are you all doing over here?” asks Jihyo.

“The girls and the puppy ran all the way over here, and since they saw the playground, we decided to have some fun.” 

Dahyun then walks towards you and greets Daeun, who is sitting inside the baby carrier on your chest. She dangles her legs as she watches her sisters going up and down the slide. 

“Daeun, where are you?”

She turns around and smiles at Dahyun, who is hiding behind you, as she tries to play peekaboo. Daeun laughs as she sees her mother appear from your side and extends her arms so that her mother can pick her up. 

The mothers enter from the other side of the building and into the hallway, where they see a line of cubbies and get a pair of sandals to change into. They tour each of the classrooms, beginning with the infant room.

Dahyun points at the crib and the toys to Daeun, “Look, Daeun, this is going to be your classroom. You’ll have lots of fun before you join your sisters.”

They then move to the larger room that the twins and Jisoo are going to use. Mina comments on the layout of the classroom and how cute everything looks. “It reminds me of my childhood when my mom used to talk me to school. I remember beating up all the boys,” laughs Jihyo. ”Aggressive as ever,” replies Dahyun, causing both Mina and Jihyo to laugh. 

Continuing with their tour, they finish it off by heading outside to the playground, where they see you and the girls resting on one of the benches. “Did you girls like the playground?” asks Jihyo.

The girls nod, “park, fun!” replies Jisoo. 

“That’s great. You three will be coming here more often.” 

The girls look at each other and begin to hop in excitement at the idea of playing together again. 

With everyone trying to unpack some of their belongings, Mina and Jihyo take their children to their new room. Immediately as they open the door, Jisoo and Ari run into the room and point at the three beds. 

“Do you like your new room?” asks Jihyo. 

“Jisoo’s room?”

”Yes, Jisoo, as well as Ari and Hina’s room.”

”Together?”

“Ari’s bed?” asks Ari as she points at one of the beds.

”Yes, you get to have your own bed. No more sleeping with mommy,” replies Mina. 

“Yay! Sleep, Jisoo and Hina!” 

On the other hand, Hina seems a bit nervous as she holds onto Mina’s pants. Mina sees Hina’s reaction and picks her up, “Are you nervous?” 

Hina nods, “Want to sleep with mommy” and buries her head to her chest. 

“Aww, you’ll be able to sleep with me whenever you want; I’ll only be next door.”

”Yeah?”

”Of course, if you want you, I’ll tuck you in every night and read you a story. Does that sound good?”

Hina nods and says, “Hina down.” Mina puts Hina down and watches as she follows her other two sisters and climbs her bed. “Hina, sleep here.” 

Eventually, night comes, and all the children are washed and ready to go to bed. All three girls are tucked into their beds and looking at Mina as she sits in front of them with a large book in her hand. 

“Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there lived a young girl named Cinderella…” 

Mina continued to read the story in Japanese until all three of them fell sound asleep. She ensured everyone was tucked in before giving each a good night kiss on the forehead. 

“Goodnight, little ones, sweet dreams,” as she slowly closes the door. 

Layout of property

[spencewalterreid]

Family Tree (Intro)

part 1. part 2.

Summary: Deeply religious 6-year-old Ethel Cain grapples with her turbulent home life with the help of her best friend, Spencer Reid.

Pairing: Spencer Reid / Ethel Cain (p, young age)

Category: Angst, hurt/comfort. Some fluff.

Warnings: brief sexual scene but not exactly smut, cigarettes. Please see master list for overall warnings for the whole series.

Word Count: 4.5k

Author's Note: Those of you that have been paying attention to my recent posts know I'm starting a new series: Preacher's Daughter. Essentially, a chronological account of Ethel Cain's life, with the addition of best friend Spencer Reid. First couple chapters are going to be strictly from Ethel's point of view, but once we get to Western Nights, it'll start flipping between Ethel's POV and Spencer's POV, which will be trying to solve the case of the adrenaline-fueled murders of Willoughby and Ethel as they traverse the west coast. I understand this probably won't be as popular as the Spencer-centered fics, but I hope you guys stay with me!! This was really fun to write and I have a feeling it will only get moreso <3 Please let me know what you think!! Leave as much feedback and as many suggestions as you please, they really help me out. Feedback from you guys is what keeps me going. With all that being said, enjoy the first chapter!

July 8, 1972

It gets hot in Alabama. Blistering, really. Ethel writhed in the grass, trying to find a spot that was still cool, damp from the morning dew. She’s lying under an oak tree in the yard in front of her father’s farm house, mud pressing itself into her white sundress. She’s drenched in sweat, which she thinks might be contributing to the ever-increasing dirt patch under her. The grass tickles the backs of her shoulders as she turns on her side toward the boy beside her, folding her hands under her head.

Spencer had been her best friend since she could remember. She met him when she was two, her mother would tell her. Back then, his hair was always combed back, the curls politely laying into one another. Now, eyes closed and a faint smile on his lips, his hair was wild, brown chunks across his forehead and the ground behind him. His arms were out next to him, fingers splayed against the soft greenery. He’s gotta be hot in that, she thinks, observing his short-sleeved button-up shirt and long, tan pants.

Hearing the shuffle of the grass, Spencer turns toward his companion and attempts to open his eyes, but quickly squeezes them shut again to shade himself from the sunlight with his left arm, then cautiously tries again. He succeeds, gaze landing on the gaunt girl.

“What are you thinking about?” Ethel asks, voice soft.

Spencer shuffles back into his previous position for the most part, but leaves an arm across the upper half of his face. “I dunno,” he sighs. “I’m thinking I don’t wanna get up tomorrow morning.”

Ethel frowns. “What do you mean? We have to. Church is tomorrow.”

“I know that,” he groans. “But I have school on Monday, and it sucks to cut the weekend short,” Spencer replies. “Just because you get to sleep in every day…”

“I don’t sleep in,” she counters with a pout, admiring the soft slope of his chin and the bristle of his shirt in the passive breeze. “Daddy gets me up every morning no later than 8.”

“I have to get up at 6,” he whines, “and my mom never wakes me up in the mornings.”

“That’s because she’s got the devil in her,” Ethel whispers solemnly. “His voice keeps her up at night, so it’s hard for her to wake up.”

Spencer turns over completely this time, still shielding himself with his hand, but looks hard at Ethel. He fights the urge to roll off of his shoulder which is now digging into the hard ground. “I wish you’d quit saying that.”

“Daddy says she’s got the devil in her,” Ethel repeats reasonably, nodding to herself. “It isn’t her fault, Spence, Lucifer can tempt anybody.” She reaches a hand out to touch his shoulder. “It’s okay,” she smiles. “I’ll keep praying for her, and-”

“Ethel!”

She snaps upward and Spencer quickly follows suit, catching sight of her father looming at the end of the porch, frightening and large, thick arms folded across his chest. “You have no right to be touching my daughter like that, boy,” he shouts, stomping down the steps and crossing the yard to the tree. Spencer scrambles up to his feet, glancing back at Ethel for a moment before her father’s firm hand is covering Spencer’s small bicep.

“He didn’t do anything, Daddy!” Ethel cries, standing up as well to try to pull Spencer back.

“It’s okay, E, I’ll-”

Her father shoves a hand against her chest, knocking her to the ground. “You mind your business, child, I’ll deal with you shortly,” he spits, glaring down at her before dragging Spencer behind him, across the street to his house.

***

July 9, 1972

The church is packed like a can of sardines. In a town like this one, everyone goes to church. It’s non-negotiable. Ethel sits in the second row back, twisting in her seat to try to get a look behind her. Spencer isn’t here yet. On any other day, Spencer would attend with the Cain family, but given her father’s impressive ability to hold a grudge, it didn’t surprise her when he failed to offer this morning. It’s 9:32, two minutes past the time Pastor Dan would start service.

“Quit ‘yer squirming,” Dad demands, a tight hand on her shoulder to pull her back down to her seat.

“Spencer is late,” she whispers, talking to herself more than her father.

Dad screws up his face in disgust, scoffing. “Don’t you worry yourself about that heathen. He’s where he belongs, with his filthy mother.”

“Please don’t talk about him like that,” she frowns. “He’s nice.”

“He’s a sinner,” Dad growls, “Now hush.”

Ethel folds her hands in her lap, defeated. Undoubtedly, she’s worried about her friend. She didn’t see him after his front door slammed behind him and her father yesterday afternoon. She assumes his mother was probably asleep, she usually was these days. Spencer said she hasn't been feeling well recently, but if she’s honest, Ethel can’t remember a time where his mother was feeling anything but lousy. She barely hears the words leaving the pastor’s mouth until her father pinches her harshly on the arm. 

“Pay. Attention.”

She bites her lip and tries to listen.

“It is our duty as God’s children to take in those who need to hear the Word. Those who put themselves above the Lord, those who lie, those who cheat, those who commit adultery. Those who do not repent for their sins shall surely perish, Amen?”

A chorus of agreement amongst the crowd rings out. Ethel worries her bottom lip. Her father shoots her a pointed look, but says nothing.

“Romans 6:23,” he begins, spreading a bible across the podium in front of him. There’s an opaque rustling up and down the aisles of parishioners hunting for the verse. “‘For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.’ God expects us to sin, for we are all imperfect; however, when you admit this in the face of our Lord, you shall surely be forgiven. Amen?”

Again, a mindless repetition of the word. Ethel has never liked that part of church. Every Sunday, the same speech more or less, and she doubts anyone in the room thinks twice about it aside from herself. She doubts anyone in the room disagrees with anything he’s ever said. Like last week, when the sermon denounced all who lie, even when it is to save themselves. She recounts all the lies she’s told, or at least tries to.  There are far too many to catalogue, even if she wrote them down each time. When Spencer threw a rock at her window a few weeks ago, scratching a nick into it when he tried to get her attention after her father kicked him out. She’d blamed it on a falling branch. Or when his mother called that morning, demanding he be sent home immediately, though he was at school at the time. Ethel insisted his mother was overseas and got confused about the time zones. When her father asked why his mother would need him home if that were the case, she didn’t have a good answer. She wore long sleeves for a long time after that, and that was the second time one of her sisters let her use makeup. When her father asked where the bruises had gone, another lie: you hadn’t left any in the first place.

Ethel is pulled out of her thoughts when the entire room falls silent at the creak of the door. She whips around in her seat, ignoring her father’s warning hand on her thigh. She grins when she sees her friend, but her face falls pretty quick after that. He’s wearing a sweater, and she’s worried about his warmth even if it is his Sunday best. He catches sight of her and tries to yank a smile onto his quickly-reddening cheeks, but fails miserably. He tugs his sleeves further down his hands.

Spencer is a small boy as it is, but he looks downright tiny swallowed up in his second-hand clothes. His oxford shoes pad dully against the old, scratchy carpet as he travels up the aisles. He sits in the pew behind Ethel, next to a stately old woman who immediately recoils and scoots as far away from him as she can. Ethel smiles at his proximity, and he offers a shy wave.

The pastor remains silent for another few seconds for emphasis before continuing. “You know, in all my years of preaching, there’s one thing I’ve noticed,” he says, closing his bible and leaning his elbows against the podium, left ankle crossed atop the right. “Those who do not attend church regularly are often the ones with something to hide.”

Spencer feels so hot he may catch on fire at any moment.

“I’ve seen people – heathens,” he looks at Spencer, then away just as quickly, “--show their face in the house of God knowing damn well that they are representing the Devil. Do you know what happens to those… individuals?” he continues haltingly, as if it were a tall order for him to refer to Ethel’s friend as a human being. Her stomach twists at the thought. “God strikes them down.” He opens his bible again, rifling through it. “Psalm 28:3: ‘Do not take me away with the wicked and with workers of iniquity, who speak peace to their neighbors, but evil is in their hearts.’” He slams it shut. “That means,” he presses on, and now Ethel thinks he’s purposely looking anywhere but their direction, “that those who lie to God’s children and worship their own false deity in private are not to be considered one of us. The Serpent is cunning, and will try to convince you his cause is just; do not be fooled. These… these creatures… will say anything to make you believe they are of God. Do not believe their lies.”

Ethel glances back toward Spencer, a look of apology in her eyes. Her father pops her in the back of the head. “Eyes forward,” he hisses. She obliges. Spencer sinks further into his pew, wishing the ground would swallow him whole. 

***

The fresh breeze blowing through the valley the church house resides in isn’t as refreshing as Ethel hoped it would be as she shuffles out the door, accompanied by the other youths, the adults trailing a bit behind. As much as her father would abhor it, he can’t see her in the throng of people, and her hand finds Spencer’s as she falls into step next to him.

“Hey,” she whispers, squeezing encouragingly. He chances a glance at her.

“Hey back.” He looks sad. She tilts her head.

“What happened yesterday?” Ethel looks behind her subtly to make sure no one’s paying attention. She concludes they’re in the clear. 

Spencer kicks a rock out of his way and lets go of Ethel’s hand, opting to shove his own into his pockets. “I’m just glad Mom wasn’t roused enough to hear it,” he says.

“I’m sorry.” She tilts her head down and forward to try to catch his eye under his thick curtain of hair, and notices for the first time a red-blue splotch of colour next to his nose. “I didn’t know he’d do that to you.”

“Really? You didn’t see that coming at all?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “I’ve seen what he does to you. It was only a matter of time.”

Ethel sighs, pulling Spencer out of the crowd and to the side of the building, hidden by the shrubbery. “Daddy is nice to me,” she insists, a trying expression on her face. “He loves me.”

“I don’t believe you,” he replies, squinting his eyes. “Your dad loves you just about as much as God loves me.”

She doesn’t quite know what he means by that, so instead of saying anything actually reassuring, she says, “God loves you. He loves all of his children.”

Tears well up in Spencer’s eyes. He crosses his arms and slumps against the dirty panels on the side of the church. “Why, then? Why is he keeping my mom sick, why does he let your dad be mean to you?” He yanks his arms out of the position they were in, in favour of digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, roughly shaking the tears loose.

Sometimes words were futile, Ethel realizes, even if she hadn’t learned how to describe that to herself yet. Making the best choice she could think of, she takes a step forward and gathers her friend into her short arms. “I’ll pray for you,” she says into his ear. Spencer hesitates before placing his hands gingerly onto her back. He nods, even though he knows her prayers are redundant. If he’s a heathen, God probably wouldn’t even take a second glance at Ethel. No one who associates with someone like him is worth God’s time, probably.

“Thank you,” he says anyway. Sometimes you just need to let people think they believe in something. Even if they’re lying. Spencer has learned it makes people feel better to lie, they find it comforting, even if he hasn’t learned why yet.

***

December 13th, 1972

Ethel squints at the mirror, cross-legged on the carpet of her bedroom floor. She studies the red on her lips, garish if she’s honest, and tries to convince herself it makes her look pretty. She tilts her head this way and that, and considers if a different shirt might compliment it more.

At the sound of a knock on her door, she just about jumps out of her skin. “Um- Hang on!” she shouts, rubbing the back of her hand against her mouth to remove the lipstick. The door opens. “I said-” she looks up and sees her big sister, Joanna. “Oh.”

Joanna grins, pearly white teeth matching perfectly with her long, wavy blonde hair. Ethel always admired, maybe envied, her sisters. They were all beautiful. Slim, but not skinny like Ethel. They always looked happy, their joy contagious in its exuberance. They were kind, godly girls. All three of them. Joanna was the oldest, 19. She presses the door shut behind her.

“Oh, honey,” she coos, kneeling down on the carpet next to Ethel. “You can’t just wipe off red lipstick.” She gets on her hands and knees to lean past her little sister and pick up a box of Kleenex, pulling a couple tissues out before setting it down again. She wets it with her saliva. “Tighten your mouth,” she instructs, pulling her lips taut against her teeth. “Like this.”

Ethel complies, and Joanna sets to work pulling the pigment away from her skin as best as she can. “You really shouldn’t be using my makeup, you know,” Joanna chides. “If Dad saw this-”

“Please don’t tell Dad!” Ethel pulls away to sqeak, putting her hands up in surrender. “I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry, I won’t-”

Joanna puts a soothing hand on Ethel’s shoulder. “Hush. I’m not gonna tell Dad.”

Cautiously, Ethel returns to her previous position and her sister continues her work.

“All I’m saying, you could get yourself into a lot of trouble. You have a knack for that lately.” Satisfied with the result, or at least as satisfied as she was gonna get, Joanna crumples up the Kleenex tissues and conceals them between her palms. “You’re very pretty just as you are, you know that?” she leans in just a bit, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Very pretty.”

Ethel giggles. “Not as pretty as you,” she replies, dragging out the last vowel. Joanna smiles that perfect smile yet again, ruffling Ethel’s hair.

“I’m going to the store, do you want to come with me? I’m gonna get some ice cream,” she says with a wink. In a hurry, Ethel scrambles onto her feet, eager to get out of the house.

Passing through the living room, they’re stopped by the news on the TV.

“Earlier this evening, Dan Sanderson was found hanging in the front yard of his Nebraska home. The Sanderson family is not disclosing-”

The TV is shut off before it can continue. Ethel glances at the couch to investigate the loss, and notices her father for the first time since leaving her room. “Daddy?” she inquires, tears filling her eyes. “Isn’t that-”

“Pastor Dan,” Joanna interrupts, reaching for Ethel’s hand. “Oh, my God,” she gasps, pressing her free hand to her mouth.

Ethel sniffles, a hiccup bubbling in her throat. Dad exhales sharply, rubbing his face. “Church should be interesting,” he comments with a chuckle, before bringing a glass of whiskey to his lips. “Where are you girls going?”

“The store,” Joanna replies, voice distant and distracted.

“Leave Ethel here.”

The two glance at one another from behind the couch. Their father still hasn’t even bothered to spare them a well-meaning look.

“But-”

“No. I’m not asking. Be back in 20 minutes, Jo,” Dad demands, and knowing better than to argue, the older girl concedes.

“Yes, sir,” she sighs, letting go of Ethel’s hand. She leans down to kiss her younger sister’s head. “I’ll be back soon with some chocolate chip, okay?” Joanna asks, fingertips against Ethel’s cheek.

“Okay,” she nods.

Ethel stays put until a few moments after the door clicks shut, processing the death of the pastor. She’s never known anyone who was dead before.

Dad looks at her for the first time today, sitting up and poking his head over the couch. “Come here, darlin’.”

She crosses the room with tiny, shuffling steps, coming to stand next to the soft leather sofa. Dad takes her wrist, not unkindly, and pulls her toward him, and she has to get onto the furniture to comfortably follow his tugging. He nestles her under his arm, fingertips rolling the hem of her dress distractedly as he unpauses the TV.

“Do you want to watch cartoons?” he offers, knuckles against her lower thigh, just above her knee.

Ethel doesn’t reply, eyes glued to her father’s heavy, broad hand on her dress. 

“I asked you a question.”

“Okay,” she says, for the second time in the last two minutes.

Satisfied, Dad lays his head back against the arm of the couch, and Ethel nestles herself into his side. They stay like that for a while, bold two-dimensional colours casting an uncomfortably blue glow over the room. Joanna comes home unceremoniously, puts the ice cream in the freezer, and trudges back to her bedroom. Ethel assumes the other two are probably also in their bedrooms. She realizes she hasn’t even spoken to them in a couple of days. They’ve been distant lately.

“Daddy?”

“Hm?”

When she looks up, she sees his eyes are closed and at some point, he’d finished his glass of whiskey; it’s sitting empty on the side table.

“Can I go see Spencer?”

Suffice it to say, Ethel does not leave her bedroom for the rest of the evening and the better half of the next day.

***

December 17, 1972

Dad took over for Pastor Dan the very Sunday after his death. Ethel wondered if they’d take a week off to mourn, but honestly, she should have known better. It was silly, in retrospect.

Her sisters actually happened to like Spencer, which was very lucky for Ethel. That meant while Dad was in front of the congregation, she got to sit next to her friend. They walked together today, a nice change of pace from driving with Dad. The only reason Dad let them go together was the promise that Joanna, Hope, and Allison would go with her. They were considerate enough to walk a good distance behind Ethel and Spencer.

The sermon made Ethel sick. The look on her father’s face as he talked about a father’s duties was… personal. He watched her and her sisters for most of it. She sank under his unforgiving stare as he spoke about protecting your brood, about keeping them close, and keeping them pure. She wasn’t sure what that meant, but she liked that it made Spencer hold her hand.

***

March 23, 1980

“Aren’t you- worried- your dad- will come in?” the boy asks between presses of Ethel’s lips to his. She isn’t sure of his name (William? He said Will, she thinks?), and she’s less sure she cares.

Ethel shakes her head. “No,” she mumbles, hands firmly on the boy’s shoulders, knees on either side of his hips. “He’s out cold.”

She slides her grip down his biceps, then to his waist, and pulls the hem of his shirt up his abdomen. He obediently lifts his arms to allow her to yank it over his head, then makes quick work of removing her own top. 

For a moment, she has the instinct to cover up. One of her biggest insecurities (aside from the evil, ungodly thoughts in her head) is how skinny she is. She’s all leg, skin and bone from head to toe. She tries to eat more, really she does, but she’s nauseous so often that it’s hard to keep it down. She wonders fleetingly why Dad hasn’t said anything about her continuously dwindling figure.

Her spiral is interrupted when the boy groans, going to grope her chest. He drags his thumb across a stick-n-poke tattoo, a cross just below her collarbone. Ethel’s stomach lurches, sending a rush to her head. I shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be doing this. This is a sin. I can’t take this back. God will know I’m not a virgin. He’ll know I’m not pure anymore. What if Daddy can tell? What if he doesn’t love me anymore? What if he stops-

She groans when he rocks his hips into her, making his erection very apparent. In that moment, she really could not give a damn about her father – for that matter, either of her fathers.

***

March 29, 1980

“You sure you don’t want a puff?” Ethel offers, cigarette dangling from between her index and middle fingers. Spencer shakes his head, which is currently resting on his interlocked fingers, elbows bent out to the sides as he stares at the night sky.

She finally got Spencer to come over again for the first time in a long time, considering the last visit ended with Dad damn near strangling him in an alcohol-fueled stupor (which is becoming more and more common), insisting he “had the devil in him”. 

“Suit yourself,” Ethel shrugs and takes another drag. “Do you ever think about having sex?” she asks bluntly, snuffing out the cigarette on a shingle and turning her head toward Spencer. He chokes on a breath, sitting up slightly to get a better look at her.

“What?”

“Don’t what me. Don’t act like you haven’t considered it,” she says, sitting up on her elbows. “I mean, seriously, Spence. Have you even had your first kiss?”

He deflects expertly. “Have you?”

Ethel holds a puff of air in her cheeks then blows it out sharply, laying back down and interlocking her fingers over her stomach. She considers telling him. For the last week, she hasn’t stopped thinking about her night with that boy. It felt nice to finally go all the way, felt nice to not walk away from a sexual encounter feeling positively filthy. To be able to call the shots for once, not worry about the stakes of your performance quality. Ultimately, she decides against it. “How’s college?” she asks bitterly.

“No, E, what were you gonna say?” Spencer sits up completely, crossing his ankles under his shins.

“Spence, drop it, please?” Her voice is soft, almost scared. It sounds like a prayer, breathy and secretive, like if she said it too loud, the request was sure not to be granted.

“What happened?” he matches her tone, sweet and calm, just as he always has been. Ethel thinks she’s never heard him raise his voice before, even minimally.

“I snuck a boy in,” she replies before she can stop herself. “We, uh. We did it.”

She wanted to use the word. The dirty one. She wanted to use the word she couldn’t use while that boy was inside her, no matter how hard he tried to get her to. She wanted to swear, really she did, but she couldn’t. Funny, the lines a 16-year-old-girl draws.

“How do you feel?” Spencer picks up her hand, toying with the couple of rings on her fingers.

“A little chilly, and the roof isn’t very comfy,” she replies, wiggling to emphasize her point, but careful to keep her hand in his grip.

Spencer glares. “You know what I meant.”

Ethel sighs, deep in her chest. “I don’t know,” she replies. “I mean, I liked it. It felt good. I just…”

“You can’t stop thinking about him,” Spencer adds delicately, not managing to meet his friend’s eye.

“Yeah.” Ethel swallows thickly, dragging her fingertips of the hand Spencer has held captive against his palm.

Spencer shifts a bit to get closer and adjust his grip, commencing a massage on the back of her hand. “I’m always here with you. If it gets to be too much…”

“I know,” she whispers, voice cracking. She drops her chin to her chest. “Thanks.”

Ethel lets Spencer keep her hand but lays back against the roof, closing her eyes with a sigh at his nimble fingers working the muscles.

“He was pretty, you know? Real pretty. Sharp,” she says, and she imagines the pinched expression on Spencer’s face; eyebrows knit tightly, lips pursed. “I like him a lot, Spence. I think I could fall in love with him,” she continues with a dazed smile.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” he says. “For that matter, you shouldn’t have even been having sex before you got married. It’ll be hard to go to confession when the preacher is your father.”

She knew he wasn’t judging her. It wasn’t unkind, the way he spoke to her. She’s grateful for that.

“I know,” she mutters, smile falling. “I just…” She opens her eyes to find Spencer watching her carefully with exactly the expression she expected. “I wanted to believe someone could find me beautiful.”

“I find you beautiful.”

She could cry at the sincerity, and almost does. She swallows the lump in her throat.

“Yeah, but not beautiful enough to make love to me, right?” Ethel scoffs, shaking her head.

Spencer stops his ministrations on her hand, laying it gently on his knee, still carefully clasped in his own. “Maybe,” he whispers, eyes downcast. Ethel perks up at this, sitting up and leaning on her elbows.

“Really? I mean, maybe I should just strip now,” she says with a grin. Spencer returns it.

Ethel lays back down, a giggle bubbling up in her throat. Spencer remains quiet and lets the smirk play against his mouth for a while.

“Are you getting cold?” he asks, rolling his shoulders.

“A little. Sleepy, for sure.”

Spencer stands up and pulls Ethel with him. Before ducking back in through the window, he stops her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Be careful with that boy, okay? Take it slow, keep your eggs in different baskets.”

Ethel rolls her eyes. “Screw off, virgin.”

Spencer goes home that night with a flurry in his stomach and an uncomfortable tension in his pants.

Tag List: @darkmatilda @lizzys-sunflower.

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[deepinsonder]

Simple Man, Dean Winchester x reader

Pairings: Dean winchester x female!reader

Warnings: Cuteness

Tags: Fluff

Summary: Dean never thought he’d be one to appricate the small touches you give him, but he loves it more than he cares to admit.

10:00 am

You were tired, not for any reason but the cold air around you. You exited you and Deans shared room, with a blanket folded on your arms and your computer.

You weren’t sure where Dean was but at least you knew Sam would be huddled at the table, researching cases to wits end. Making your way through the brick laid bunker, your feet padded on the cold concrete floors.

“Sam,” you said in a sing song voice, before you came to the library area. As you looked up, you met eyes with a tired looking Sam, you knew he wasn’t sleeping well but you also knew he took care of himself better than anyone could.

“Hey,” He said, before turning his eyes back onto the screen in front of him.

“Where’s Dean?” You asked, placing your laptop at the table across from Sam and your blanket on the chair.

“Kitchen,” Sam said, still clicking away on his computer, you sighed and made your way to the kitchen, the chills were getting to you, perhaps you should have layered up more.

As you arrived in the kitchen, you noticed a hunched over Dean staring at a book in front of him.

“Hey handsome,” you said walking up to him, he turned around and gave you the same smile he always did - the one that reminded you how lucky you are to be loved by Dean Winchester.

“Morning, Sweetheart,” Dean said, turning his body, anticipating the hug you always gave him in the mornings - Dean never thought he’d be the type of man to like being hugged but every morning when he would wake up before you, he counted the minutes until you eventually found him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

You walked up to him, and pressed your body against his, breathing in the scent as you lifted yourself by the tiptoes and held him - Dean wrapped his arms around your back and mumbled a quiet “i love you” into the nape of your neck.

“What are you up to today?” You asked, lightly pulling yourself away from him to look up into his eyes, his smile caused the lines around his eyes to crinkled as he looked down at you.

“Was waiting for you to decide,” He said, bringing his face in to kiss your lips. Your soothing hand touched his cheek as he continued to smile against your lips.

“There’s a farmers market, half an hour from here - we could go check it out?” You said, breaking away from your embracing and picking up a glass cup to get a drink of water.

“A farmers market?” Dean asked with a small groan.

“Yep,” you said with the pop of your lips, leaning your back against the kitchen counters, the cool metal pressed through the fabric of the t-shirt you were wearing.

“Okay, I’ll get ready,” he said, with a nod as he began to clean up the mess he had made on the counters. You giggled at how quickly he agreed to go with you, normally you’d have to plead but today he was in a good mood you figured.

You came up beside him and placed a small kiss against his upper arm before turning around and walking toward your room.

11:00 am

You were glad you layered up because the cold air hit you like a brick. You breathe turned cold as the air froze around you. Dean opened the car door for you before opening his own and taking a seat, turning up the heater.

You took a seat and turned the radio on, blasting his favourite Led Zeppelin song. He smiled at you before turning around to back out of the garage.

“I need to get some ugly sweaters,” You said, turning your body to face Dean, bringing your you legs to cross on the seat.

“What why?” Dean asked, scrunching up his face him faux disgust.

“For Sam- he’s been working really hard, lately,” You said, taking Dean’s hand from the gear stick and onto your lap, you held his cold palms against your own, rubbing them together to warm you both up.

Dean chuckled at your remark, the thought of Sam in a stupid sweater made you both smile.

He wrapped his fingers through yours giving them a little squeeze as his smile grew, silence consumed the car as you played with his fingers. He would occasionally turn his head to look at you as you met eyes with him and smiled back.

11:45 am

You and Dean stepped out of the car, the cold air wondered around you as you made your way over to him. You took his hand in yours and huddled up close to him, to keep you both warm. You wished the scarf around your neck was thicker as you walked toward the stalls with a glint of anticipation in your eyes.

Picking up the first green and red sweater you saw, you decided it was perfect. Dean pulled out his wallet and handed the shop owner at 10 dollar bill before placing an arm around your shoulders.

“We should get some fresh eggs,” You said, leading you and Dean toward the chicken coups, where there were cartons of eggs displayed.

“Two, thanks” Dean said to the shop owner as he paid and you watched him bag the cartons.

“You look handsome today,” You said, admiring his face and furrowed eyebrows.

“I always look handsome,” He mumbled, with a coy smile playing on his lips. You brought your lips to his as you kissed the smile of his face, “and you always look beautiful,” his comment made you blush - your cheeks turned more red than they already were.

“What else do you need,” You asked, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Let’s just look around,” He smiled against your forehead.

For the remainder of the market, Dean watched, lovingly, as you bought things and picked things up. He hadn’t had many perfect days but today was probably the best he’d had in a long time. He would never admit it to you but when you touched him, his hands, his face - he felt more loved than he had in a long time.

He didn’t need much to be happy but you gave him so more than you would ever know. He was a simple man, he didn’t need much but he knew he would always need you.