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natalievoncatte · 2 months ago

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1. Leaves

Lena was, in all honesty, having the time of her life. Since they’d arrived here, she had finally relaxed. Really relaxed. Lex was gone. Capital-G Gone. The last of Cadmus had been mopped up. The Conpany was no longer a problem- L-Corp was being sold off, from entire divisions down to sales of old office chairs. The Estate and nine-tenths of the family holdings were all being sold off, and the money quietly funneled into a holding company. Sam Arias would manage Lena’s wealth.

Lena had nothing to do anymore, and it was glorious. She’d done what she’d never done in her entire life: rest. She ate when was hungry, slept when she was tired. She stayed up late finishing a thriller novel she’d grabbed off one of Kara’s tables and slept it off the following day. She could do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, so one day she said, “Let’s go watch the leaves change.”

“Not much of that in National City,” Kara had said, not looking up from her laptop.

Lena was flipping channels when she made the suggestion, another pedestrian activity that had been too far beneath her to ever indulge during her CEO days.

“I’m serious,” said Lena. “I’ll rent us a cabin, book a flight, and we’ll be there by tomorrow morning. Vermont, or maybe New Hampshire.”

Kara looked up. “I could just fly us.”

“Short distances only,” said Lena.

Kara weighed it for a moment. She looked at Lena for a drawn out instant, eyes darting this way and that. Lena knew she had a deadline; she had become privy to the details of Kara’s life ever since she started couch surfing at Kara’s place after dumping her chic penthouse on some petroleum heir from the Emirates.

She had been “crashing” at Kara’s place for three months and had her own key, but they weren’t talking about it. Lena had remained on the couch, falling asleep to YouTube videos of molten lava and cat purring sounds, while Kara puttered around the house.

There were moments of tension. Pauses during shared meals. Moments when they pressed closed on sofa, times when Kara got up to go to bed and Lena felt this yearning to follow that she never quite obeyed.

Kara was thinking. Hard.

“Rent a cabin?”

“Yeah, someplace remote. So you can take a break. You’ve been working harder than ever, Darling. It almost feels like you’re avoiding me.”

Kara swallowed. “Okay,” she said. “We’ll fly. The regular way.”

They did, arriving in Maine less than a day later. Lena rented a Land Rover (because they were on an Adventure) and did all the driving, three hours from the airport to the cabin.

Kara rode in silence, though Lena heard her gasp.

The trees were beautiful. They were alive with color, as if an impressionist master had made the world a canvas and run riot. It was more than a mass of reds and yellows and oranges. It was astonishing.

It was dark when they arrived at the cabin. Lena had chosen one with two bedrooms, though she hesitated when she did. It had a full kitchen with a gas stove and all the amenities but also a fire pit and picnic table and gazebo, and overlooked a private swath of a small lake. It was like something out of a Bob Ross painting.

They were both tired from the flight, or at least Lena was, and turned in right away. When she rose the next day, she cheerily told her cabin-mate she was headed into town to get some supplies.

Kara went out to chop wood. Lena, of course, watched a few swings before leaving. Kara didn’t really need an axe but Lena didn’t care; she was preoccupied watching the muscles of Kara’s shoulders and back as she swung the splitting maul.

Lena got back before noon and carried the groceries inside, enough for her to use the fancy kitchen to prepare a mighty feast for her companion.

She didn’t hear the sobs until she had most of it put away. Lena bolted to the back door and stopped.

Kara was sitting on the picnic table, feet resting on the long board that acted as a seat. She was holding a single golden leaf on her hand, studying it and sobbing softly to herself.

“Kara?”

She looked up, soft blue eyes wet with tears. Lena felt a wave of grief but also panic, rushing to the table.

“Kara, what’s wrong?”

“I,” Kara started. “Lena, I’m scared.”

Lena swallowed hard. “Why?”

Kara looked at the leaf. “Another year past. The leaves turn colors and fall, school starts, things change.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Alex is married now. They’ve got a kid to raise. Nia and Brainy will probably get married soon. We hadn’t had a game night in two months.”

Lena swallowed. Kara was right. When Lena had first joined, then rejoined, this wonderful found family had been aggressively social, and now they forgot to text as often as not. They all spent more time at home or at their real jobs than at the Tower. The world had just started moving on. Kara didn’t even wear the cape every day anymore.

“I know,” said Lena, her voice thick. “But you’ve got me.”

Lena felt her pulse start to race. Kara had been so distant, she couldn’t help wonder if she was enough. If boring, retired Lena wasn’t enough. Oh God, what if Kara was thinking about going to Argo? Or the future?

“Not forever,” said Kara, her voice cracking like glass. She let the leaf drop from her fingers. “Eventually you’ll go. All of you. Brainy, Nia, Alex, Clark if he doesn’t come back from Argo. You.”

“Oh,” Lena said, softly. “Oh, Kara.”

“I think I might be immortal,” Kara whispered. “I don’t feel any aches or pains. Nothing about me changes. I don’t forget things like people do. My body just keeps repairing itself and it never makes any mistakes. What if I’m just like this forever? Or even a thousand years? What if everyone is gone and their kids are gone and no one knows who I am anymore?!” she was frantic now, the words coming too fast.

Lena reached out, tentatively. She put her hands on Kara’s shoulders and pulled herself in, wrapping her best friend in a hug.

Birds chirped, the waters of the lake made soft glug-glugs, and all around them was the soft tapping sound of the leaves, already letting go.

“I won’t leave you,” Lena whispered. “Kara, I won’t. If I have to live forever I will. I’ll find a way. Tech, magic, fifth dimensional imps. I’ll find a way.”

Kara sighed, arms firmly around her.

“Do you need space?” Lena asked. “I could leave you alone for a bit. Look for a place when we get back, so I’m not on the couch all the time.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” Kara blurted, almost cutting her off. “I know I’ve been distant, it’s just… I keep looking at you and thinking about all the time I’ve lost and all the mistakes I’ve made and how I’ll regret it forever. We have so little time and I’m so scared I’ll lose you.”

Lena pulled back to look at her. “We have a long time to make more memories. As many as we can.”

“I’ll lose you too,” said Kara. “I know you want more. A family, a partner. You’ll start to have less time for me. You’ll all just fall away and I’ll be stuck here alone.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“How can you say that?”

Kara started to pull away. Lena stopped her with a tug on her arms. It stunned her, sometimes, how she could overpower a god with her tiny human hands. How she could stun the other whirlwind or a touch.

“Kara,” said Lena. “I don’t want someone else. I want you.”

“Me?” Kara squeaked.

Lena cleared her throat. “I wanted to tell you at the wedding. I mean, I didn’t dress like that and go stag for the hell of it. I just lost my nerve and you seemed so overwhelmed.”

Kara blinked a few times.

“You want me?” said Kara.

Lena felt a cold rush of terror. She’d just blurted it out, artlessly, unplanned.

“Like want me want me? Like kissing want me?”

Lena licked her lips. “Yes. I’d like to kiss you right now, if you let me.”

Kara settled back into the table, leaning forward. Lena leaned in, pushing her back slightly, moving her hands from shoulders to hips, scoring the way Kara tensed and trembled. She was hardly inexperienced, Lena knew, but something about this felt like a first kiss, even for her. It tasted like one, too, down to the quivery way their lips met.

Kissing quickly became something more. Lena didn’t know if she was pulling or Kara pushing. It didn’t much matter; the path led to the bed in Kara’s room, marked by a trail of shed clothing.

Years of anticipation overwhelmed them both; dinner was forgotten, and they didn’t even emerge until the next day.

It was in the morning sun, the light turning Kara’s skin gold, that Lena saw it. Twisted within one of the curling locks of hair, splayed around Kara’s head on the pillow, was a faintly visible thread of purest silver, chased through the gold like an engraver’s masterpiece. Lena couldn’t help but twirl the errant strands around her finger.

As Kara slept, she looked up through the window and watched the wind as it caressed the leaves.

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aidaronan · 2 years ago

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The years go by. The retail jobs that Steve thinks are temporary keep piling up, but he has no idea what else to do with his life so he just keeps on keeping on.

Until a large tree falls on the lawn of the little house he managed to buy and he gets the quote on removal and the number literally hurts his soul.

He buys a small chainsaw instead. Over the course of a few weeks, he gets most of the branches cut up. He collects some large rocks from down by the quarry and digs out a fire pit in his backyard. On his days off, his friends come over and they sit out back and have a few beers. The pile of wood dwindles. The giant trunk is another story though. His chainsaw isn't big enough for it. Burning it would take forever, and Steve's terrified he'd disappoint Smoky the Bear. He's at a loss.

Until he sees another giant trunk in someone's yard carved into a bear.

He knows what to do then. Not a bear, but something else. Through trial and error, the trunk becomes the rough shape of a woman, the remnants of the branches like a crown on her head. It's not as amazing as the bear he saw, but it's his. He finds he loves the smell of sawdust and the feeling of creating something.

Just like that, Steve realizes what he wants to do. It takes several months and a lot of yard sales, but he scrounges up the tools he needs to start woodworking. He learns to measure twice and cut once. He makes tables and chairs and carves them with art and designs that get better and better the more he learns. Shockingly, people actually buy his pieces.

Even more shocking comes the realization that he's making enough money to do it full time. He puts in his two weeks notice at Melvald's and hands in his assistant manager badge.

He's not sure he's happy, but he is content. It feels good to work hard and actually have things to show for it. It also feels good to work muscles he hasn't used since high school. He carries on for a few years like that, creating and learning and creating some more. Then Eddie Munson blows back into town. Invited back so Hawkins can have their most famous alumnus sing the national anthem at homecoming. Steve's honestly surprised he shows at all. "Can't believe you didn't tell them kiss your hairy ass," Steve says. Because of course Eddie ends up around his fire pit, sipping on Steve's cheap beer like he doesn't have three Grammy awards on his mantel. The years fall away with each drink, reminding Steve of just how much it had hurt when Eddie left. He'd wanted Eddie so bad back then, more than he'd ever wanted anyone. He can feel the echoes of that deep ache across time.

"Pfft. Don't you know all famous people wax our asses now? All the rage in LA." Eddie cuts a look at him and smirks when Steve rolls his eyes, grateful for the lighthearted moment to snap him out of his maudlin nostalgia. "Really though I thought about it, but then I thought it would be way funnier to donate a metric fuckton of money to Hawkins High with the stipulation that it go to the theater and band programs. Kind of bummed they couldn't honor my other request though."

"Which was?"

"My old Hellfire throne. I miss her, but apparently she's not around anymore. Something about water damage."

"Oh yeah. Water main busted a few years back and flooded the theater. I remember that." "Yeah. Had to settle for the promise they'd make a game lounge and stock it with all the supplies a budding young nerd needs."

"That's really nice, Eds."

Eddie shrugs. "I've been known to be nice on occasion. You'll come to homecoming, right? Moral support?"

Steve hasn't been to homecoming in years because he sees the other people who stayed in town all the time, and he has no interest in seeing the people who didn't. He can only answer the same questions so many times. Oh, I'm doing woodwork now. Yep, I still live right here. Nope, still not married, no kids.

He goes though, and he answers the uncomfortable questions. Because Eddie asked him to. Because no matter how long it's been, Steve can't deny that some part of him still...

He says goodbye after, and Eddie leaves again, and Steve tries not to think about that too much in the following days.

He's halfway into the project before he realizes what he's building. He'd seen Eddie's throne quite a few times back when. What he doesn't have memories of, he makes up. He adds his own touches too, making it a throne fit for a rock star, a nerd, a friend.

He carves ornate patterns, he creates scenes of dragons being beaten back by a man with a guitar, crowds of people that could be knights or concertgoers.

It's his favorite piece he's ever done, and his hands are shaking when he dials Eddie's number. He gets an answering machine and stumbles through a message.

"I made you something. I guess it's kind of silly, but it's here in Hawkins if you want it. Or I'm sure you can afford the shipping if you don't want to come. Just, I made you a chair. It's more of a... Well, you'll see. Unless you don't want to... It's Steve by the way." He hangs up before he can embarrass himself even more.

Eddie doesn't call him back. One day passes and then another. Steve tries not to let it get to him. He works on orders and new projects. He enjoys his little backyard oasis. He rents a few movies and thinks they're okay.

He's debarking some wood in his driveway when the rental car pulls up, Eddie stepping out in ripped jeans and an old Metallica tee. "Hi again, Stevie."

"Oh." Steve clears his throat. "The thing's in the garage. I'll..."

Eddie doesn't say anything for a long time, circling the throne, running his tattooed fingers over each little detail.

"You made this whole thing?"

"I did."

"For me?" Eddie looks at him then, one hand still touching the wood like he doesn't want to let go. Even under the harsh lights of the garage, his eyes are such a warm shade of brown that Steve forgets to breathe.

He nods. "For you."

"Why?"

There are a hundred answers Steve could give, but he spent so long not knowing who he was or who he wanted to be. Too long. "Because you'll always be the one that got away. Because some part of me will always want to make you smile no matter how long it's been."

Eddie falls into the throne like he just got the wind knocked out of him.

"You don't have to respond to that," Steve says. "You can just say thank you and take the chair."

"I can." Eddie blows out a breath. "But that would be incredibly stupid considering half my early ballads are about you."

"What?" Unfair. Steve doesn't have a chair to fall into.

"Oh sure, I changed the hes to shes for a while there because..." Eddie waves his hand. "But they're about you, Steve. God, I should've asked you out. I just thought..."

Hearing those words is a lot like seeing that carved bear all over again, something clicking into place that wasn't quite right before.

"Go out with me now then," Steve says. "Or stay in. I've got a frozen lasagna and I rented Contact."

"Steve Harrington? Asking Eddie 'the Freak' Munson on a date? Did hell freeze over?"

"Pfft." Steve takes a step closer toward what he wants most. "Hell froze over in 1986, Eddie. You were there."

Five months and a lot of long distance phone bills later, Steve opens Harrington Woodworking in Los Angeles. That same day, Eddie takes photos for Rolling Stone posing in an ornate throne in his living room. He tells the reporter exactly who made it and what he means. At concerts, he starts singing those ballads the way he always wanted to. More often than not, Steve stands in the wings singing along.

#steddie #fanfic #mine #woodworker steve #rock star eddie #i meant for this to be a drabble but 😂

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zepskies · 1 year ago

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Smoke Eater - Part 13

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

AN: For those who didn't catch my announcement on Monday, I released Part 12 earlier this week! Now, on to a confrontation I think a lot of you have been waiting for...

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 7,200 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Attempted sexual assault. Protective Dean, angst, hurt/comfort.

Part 13: “Boiling Point”

Usually, Christmas was your absolute favorite time of the year.

This holiday was a baker’s dream, and you and your grandmother used to volunteer at the church bake sale every Christmas Eve. Grandpa George had done his best to help you in the years after she died…but you just didn’t have it in you this year.

You considered it an accomplishment that you pulled down some of the decorations from the attic, putting them up around your house, and buying a little four-foot tree (also hauling it into the house yourself). However, you knew that you wouldn’t be alone on Christmas Day, at least.

Sam and Dean had already invited you over to spend it with them. You would have the chance to get to know Eileen better, and you would even get to meet the famous John Winchester…

But you still had one reason to dread the end of the month.

Nick Savage threw a Christmas party every year. It was equal parts celebration and networking, and as a top performer of the sales division, you were expected to come.

The problem was, this time the party was going to be held at his house.

“You can’t just not go?” Andréa asked, shortly before taking a massive bite of her burrito. The two of you were grabbing dinner together after another long day at the office, followed by a movie later.

You’d realized just how much you had missed your best friend.

“Yeah, that’ll be great for me. Josh will get to chat up the whole team and get them clamoring to kiss his dick. Nick will give him the Sales Manager position just to spite me,” you said, while picking at your taco salad. “He keeps pitting us against each other for his own enjoyment, but I swear to God he harps on me the most.”

Andréa frowned. “Are you sure Nick just doesn’t have a thing for you? It sounds like he’s a little boy, picking on a girl he likes.”

You pursed your lips. She still didn’t know the full extent on your boss’s thing with you. You hadn’t told her about the last time Nick cornered you in his office, dangled a promotion in front of you, and basically gave you an ultimatum: sleep with him, or don’t move up in the company.

You hadn’t told anyone, for that matter.

You were just trying to figure out how to not get fired, while still getting compensated for your hard work. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently, it was.

“I don’t give a flying fuck what he thinks about me,” you said vehemently.

It earned your friend’s gaze, and her raised eyebrows.

“Whoa,” she chuckled. “Easy there, Miss Congeniality. That’ll be sure to earn you the promotion.”

“No, really,” you said. You stabbed into your salad with a fork. “I’m so fucking sick and tired of having to tap dance my entire work life around him. He’s a goddamn child who thinks he can have whatever he wants just because Daddy gave him his own little kingdom!”

Andréa eyed you more with concern. Her hand reached for your arm. Meanwhile, you were forcing slower breaths through your nose.

“You okay?” she asked. “I don’t like the ‘crazy town’ look in your eyes right now.”

“I’m fine,” you grumbled. “Just hangry, I guess.”

You took another bite of your food. Andréa gave you a skeptical look, but she let it go for now, with a smirk.

“Yeah, well. Eat a Snickers, bitch. I don’t need you snapping on me again,” she teased.

You rolled your eyes, but you had to laugh a little. You shoved at her shoulder.

She gripped her own arm in fake panic. “Someone call the cops! This crazy woman just punched me out over a salad!”

You tried to shush her, even though you were giggling. Your head swiveled around in the restaurant, giving apologetic eyes to the people around you.

“Although, $20 for a few sprigs of romaine lettuce and a sliver of chicken? That’s worth punching somebody the fuck out,” she said, throwing down her napkin. “Let’s never come here again.”

“Agreed,” you nodded. “I don’t think they’ll let us back here anyway.”

A few days later, you didn’t want to admit you were stressing out over this night.

“Have I said thank you? Because I mean it. Thank you for taking time off for this,” you said, smoothing down the nonexistent wrinkles in Dean’s blazer.

He looked good in black. It was classic, and the new suit was smart without being “too much” for him. (Sam had taken him to his “suit guy,” as Dean called it.)

Dean grabbed your arms to stop your slightly flustered hands. He smirked down at you as his eyes once again took in your dark red dress. It was simple and sleeveless, but elegant, falling just above the knee. Of course, you had to be wearing the tallest pair of black heels he’d ever seen.

“It’s no sacrifice, believe me,” he replied.

You smiled, but he noticed something behind your eyes.

“You okay?” he asked. “Seems like you don’t really want to go to this thing.”

“I don’t,” you admitted on a sigh. “But my boss will know if I’m not there…I told you about the open Sales Manager position, right?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Dean nodded. His smile slid into a frown as he watched you bustle around your room, looking for your purse while you smoothed out the soft waves you’d managed to style your hair in, checking your eyeliner and lipstick too in the mirror.

“As usual, it’s down to me and Josh,” you said. “If I keep my numbers up and use tonight to network with my own team, get the rest of the guys on my side, maybe Nick will see that I’m the right choice.”

Dean came up behind you, resting a hand on your lower back.

“And this manager job…that’s what you want?” he asked.

You turned to him with a questioning look. “Well, yeah. I’ve been working here for five years, busting my ass.”

“And I got no doubt that you’re good at what you do,” Dean said. “But you do know, there hasn’t been a day since I met you that you didn’t have something crap to say about that job, and those people you work with.”

You frowned, and you thought about what he was saying. Sure, you complained about Nick, but did you really talk that much shit about your job?

“Everyone has things they don’t like about their work,” you reasoned. “Even you have your bad days.”

Though he tended to keep those days to himself, you knew when he’d had a tough call at the firehouse. You’d been trying your best to be a listening ear if he needed it, or if not, at least a soothing presence. It was more often the latter with Dean.

He acknowledged your point with a nod. “Okay, fair enough. I don’t know…I just think you’re wasting your talent.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Sweetheart, you’re like…an artist. It’s nothing me, or Sam, or Andréa, or anybody in your life hasn’t told you before,” said Dean. “You went to school to do your dream. And I know life happened. But I also know that when I walk into the firehouse, it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. Can you say that when you walk into the Savage building?”

You took in a breath. You understood what he was saying, but as much as you wanted to indulge the fantasy of owning your own business, being your own boss, creating your own menu, and giving people quality baked goods…you had to live in reality here.

Opening a brick-and-mortar business was expensive. And most restaurants, even bakeries, weren’t profitable for at least one to three years. You still had plenty of bills, and not even a car since the accident.

“I’ve invested too much time here to quit, Dean,” you said.

The conversation died there, but it left something new and awkward between you two. You tried to put it out of your mind while he drove you both over to the “filthy fucking rich” side of town, through a massive gate, and into a wide parking lot that had a valet driver waiting. Nick’s ridiculous house was a monument to trust fund kids everywhere.

Dean reluctantly handed over the keys to the Impala.

“No donuts in the parking lot.” He eyed the 20-something-year-old valet with all due scrutiny. “Trust me, I’ll know.”

You smirked and slipped your arm around his to tug him up the steps, toward the large double doors of the house.

“Come on, Rambo. Baby’ll be fine without you.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean quipped back. Still, he moved his arm out of yours, just to wrap it around your waist and pull you against his side. His lips pressed against your cheek.

“You look sexy as hell,” he said lowly near your ear. “Did I forget to mention that?”

“No.” Your smile deepened. “But doesn’t hurt to mention again. I might just have to reward my boyfriend for humoring me tonight, getting all dapper himself.”

You and Dean made it up to the porch and you knocked on the door. He shot you a raised brow as his lips tugged upwards.

“Oh, yeah? We talkin’ lace or satin?” he asked. His lips brushed your temple.

You pretended to think. “Little of both, actually. It’s new. And it’s red…and I might just be wearing it right now.”

Dean’s brows shot up in surprise. His gaze subtly dragged over your every curve, as if he had x-ray vision to spy through your dress. You maintained an enigmatic smile.

“Oh, you’re diabolical,” he muttered. His hand moved down to playfully squeeze your ass. You had to bite your lip to stifle the sound you made, as that’s when the doors finally began to swing open.

Dean’s hand moved up a respectable few inches, resting on your waist.

You both smiled and greeted the attendant who let you into the house.

A quick text let you know that Benny and Andréa were already here, each holding a flute of champagne. You and Dean met up with them in the huge living room space (which might has well have been a grand hall, for how large it was).

It held 50 people easily, but the party was already spanning the entire house, of at least two stories. It made your house look like a modest Barbie Dream home, without the pool attachment.

And Nick Savage was at the center of it all, greeting each guest and their “plus ones.”

When he spotted your group, he smoothly excused himself from the conversation with Josh and his wife, and headed over to you.

“Incomiiing,” Andréa quietly sing-songed. She sipped her champagne.

You steeled yourself, and you did your best to give a polite smile when Nick arrived with a pleasant “Merry Christmas.” You forced yourself to remain still when his hand fell on your arm, and he reached out to shake Dean’s hand in greeting, followed by Andréa and Benny.

“Welcome, you guys,” he said, giving you a smile that hid just a hint of a smirk. “Justin let you know where everything is, right? Lotsa drinks, the good stuff, I promise. Plenty of food, hot chocolate and eggnog fountains, if that’s your thing. And a hell of a lot more out back by the pool.”

“Great, thank you,” you nodded politely.

“All right! Let’s party,” Nick fist-pumped in the air. He pointed towards you and Dean. “You need a drink in your hand, stat.”

“I’m fine for now. Going to wait until I have something to eat first,” you replied. If you were going to get a glass of wine, it wouldn’t be one that Nick handed to you.

He pouted a little, but he looked at Dean next. “How about you, big guy? What you drinkin’?”

Dean shot you a glance, but before he could respond, Nick interrupted.

“You look like a whiskey guy. Am I right?” he asked.

Dean inclined his head. “Guilty.”

“Perfect. See? I’ve got an instinct for people,” Nick said, tossing you a wink as he headed for the nearby bar. “I’ll be back. You crazy kids relax and have fun.”

You had to admit, he knew how to turn on the charm when he had to. But who the hell said crazy kids under the age of 45?

“He’s uh…got pep,” Benny remarked.

Andréa snorted and tapped her glass. “He’s a few shots in already.”

“You think?” Dean asked.

You nodded in agreement, rolling your eyes. If there was one thing you could count on, it was for Nick Savage to be drinking.

“He knows how to act when everyone’s watching,” you said.

You looked up at the high-vaulted ceilings and expensive artwork on the walls, not noticing how Dean glanced at you with the edge of a frown.

At the very least, the food was excellent. It was served in a large back room that served as a banquet hall, meant for entertaining.

There you and Dean actually had a good time, with you sipping on red wine and Dean on a glass of the “good stuff,” all while playing cards with Andréa and Benny and a few of your coworkers on the sales team.

“I just can’t believe Adam quit, to join our main competitor, no less,” said Marv. “I had absolutely no idea he was thinking of leaving.”

He was the team gossip. He prided himself on knowing every coming and going on the sales floor, which confounded you, since Marv was also a bit of a hermit. He either kept to his office like it was a bomb shelter, or you could catch him in the break lounge grabbing yet another coffee, all the while keeping his ear perked up for scraps of conversation.

“Yeah, you did, Marv,” you replied with a smirk. “You’re the one who saw Adam’s resignation letter on his own desk.”

He hadn’t even handed said letter to Nick yet.

“Well, I knew it then, obviously,” Marv said, with his hands open wide. “It leaves us without a manager…which I think, not for long.”

His eyes met yours knowingly.

You smiled. “We’ll see. I think Josh is playing kiss-ass tonight.”

You turned your head and spotted Nick and Josh taking shots of tequila together at the bar, with the latter wincing at the burn with a lime peel in his mouth. Josh’s wife was sitting off to the side, rolling her eyes.

Your gaze focused on your boss for a moment. You shook your head at the state of him, with a loose tie and the top buttons undone on his shirt, laughing boisterously and egging Josh on.

Fucking frat bros.

“That’s your boss, huh?” Benny remarked.

“In all his Cuervo-stained glory,” Marv replied. He shook his head as well.

It made you realize something.

As nice a time as you’d been having, for about an hour at most, your good mood soured the moment you were reminded of the office politics. Of Josh and Nick and everything in between. Was this really what you wanted for the rest of your career?

The rest of your life?

Maybe Dean was right, you thought. You knew you were good at your job. You knew you were fortunate to even have a job that paid your bills…but maybe “being good” wasn’t enough for you.

If there was one thing you’d learned from your grandfather’s death, it was that peace was precarious. And sacrificing too many parts of yourself, for money, wasn’t a fulfilling life or even a happy one.

You wanted to be happy. You also wanted peace.

So you leaned over and laid a hand on Dean’s, which rested on the round table.

“Hey,” you whispered.

His head bowed near yours. “Hmm?”

“Wanna get out of here?” you asked. He raised his brows at you.

“Really? I thought you needed to stay and schmooze with your people,” he replied.

You smiled and drew your thumb across the inside of his wrist. “I think I’m done.”

Dean looked a bit confused. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. And you brushed your lips against the corner of his mouth. “You were right. It’s not worth it.”

A flicker of a smile began to tug at his lips, but his brows drew together.

“Hey. Are you sure?” he asked. “Don’t bow out just because of me—”

Your hand tightened on his wrist.

“No, baby. It’s me. My choice,” you said. “Let me just use the restroom real quick, and we can go.”

Dean nodded, and you stood.

“What, are you leaving?” Andréa asked. She was tucked into Benny’s side with a piece of red velvet cake poised on her fork. “You didn’t even finish your cake!”

You laughed. Turning down dessert was a big deal for you, but you’d live.

“It’s okay,” you said. “I just need to call it a night, but I’ll be back in a sec to say goodbye. Hold on.”

Andréa blew out a breath as you walked away from the table.

“She’s gonna miss the White Elephant gift exchange. Last year, someone got a 60” smart TV,” she said.

Benny whistled.

“I wouldn’t mind an upgrade,” he said. He shot Dean a glance. “What do you think the guys would do if we showed up with something like that to the station?”

Dean scoffed. “I think the Chief would have a damn conniption.”

Bobby was old-school. He thought they had enough distractions from the job as it was.

“Probably right,” Benny chuckled.

Andréa smiled in amusement. But her eyes clocked the way Nick glanced your way as you walked by, down the hall and to the right. She sipped at her glass of pinot grigio to wash down the rich cake.

Still, she discreetly watched the man down another shot before he took his leave of the bar. He laughed at something Josh said and waved him off.

She gave Nick credit for not stumbling on his feet, and only swaying slightly on the same path you took down the hall. It didn’t mean he was following you, necessarily. This house was like a small Smithsonian. And yet, something niggled in the back of her mind.

Andréa remembered how you’d acted at dinner the other day when talking about Nick. And how drained you’d seemed lately when she saw you after work. She’d thought that was just about finding your way after George’s death…

Marv distracted her with a question as Dean and Benny continued to talk, and she answered him with her usual charm. But she kept one eye on the hallway, waiting for you to come back.

She made it about another minute before she turned to Benny and Dean, leaning in close.

“Hey, Dean,” she said. “Maybe you want to check on her? She’s taking a while.”

Dean didn’t look concerned as he checked his watch. It hadn’t been all that long, but he still pulled out his phone to text you.

“She left her purse here,” Andréa said. She started to get up out of her seat. “I’m just gonna go see if she’s okay.”

Benny grabbed her hand before she left the table.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” she said, but she met Dean’s confused gaze. “Okay, look. I’ve been noticing some things with her recently. I have no evidence except for how well I know that woman, but something’s off with her. It happens every time she talks about that asshole Nick.”

Dean’s brows furrowed as he tried to read between the lines.

“What’re you saying exactly?” he asked.

Andréa let out a breath. “I’m saying, I’ve got a bad feeling.”

You hummed as you washed your hands in the bathroom. Wine runs right through me. I should know better.

You’d also been trying to quell your anxieties and just get through the night. But you realized now that there was no kind of calm like the peace you had, now that you knew what you needed to do. Starting tomorrow, you were going to start looking for a new job.

A knock at the door made you jolt slightly.

“Someone’s in here!” you called without looking over your shoulder. You finished washing your hands and dried them on the hand towel hanging on a silver wall rack.

The door cracked open, but before you could protest, a man stumbled in.

Of fucking course it was Nick Savage.

“Excuse me?!” you breathed in shock. You watched with wide eyes as he pushed the door closed and seemed to take notice of you for the first time. He smirked.

“Oh, hey,” he said. Somehow, he was only slurring a little. He straightened his white blazer. The black satin shirt he wore was wrinkled and he smelled heavily of tequila, and that was with a couple of feet of distance between you two.

Your shock finally melted into a glare. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Gotta take a leak. It’s my house after all,” he shrugged, leaning a hand on the wall closest to the door for balance.

You shook your head, and with a huff, you tried to get by him.

His hand wrapped around your arm. “Hey, we didn’t get a chance to catch up tonight.”

You shoved his hand off of you.

“Don’t you ever in your life touch me again,” you warned him. Your eyes were as hard as your voice. “I don’t think there’s anyone on the planet—no. In the whole damn universe who sickens me more than you, Nick Savage.”

Nick straightened a little, frowning at you. Whatever he saw in your gaze, he didn’t seem to like the challenge. When you reached for the doorknob again, he grabbed your arm and shoved you hard into the nearest wall.

You gasped as the air rushed out of your lungs. Before you even realized what was happening, you felt his clammy hands on your bare shoulders, his hot alcoholic breath on your face. You raised your hands in defense, pushing against his chest.

He was taller and stronger and pinned you harder against the wall, with his knee shoving its way between your legs. You stared up with wide eyes of fear, and his hand clamped over your mouth to stifle your scream.

Your nails bit into his arm and wrist, trying to peel back his sweaty hand, just an inch to free your voice and let you breathe. To your left you heard the door bang open.

Please—

And the hand was peeled away entirely.

You could only blink and watch as Dean barreled through, grabbing Nick and bodily hurling him away. Nick opened his mouth to spout something angrily, but Dean continued to stalk forward and grab the man again.

Nick attempted a lazy swing at Dean’s head, but he bat it away. His fist connected roughly with Nick’s face, snapping his head back with a cry.

It was almost too fast for you to track what was happening right in front of you, but Dean dragged the drunkard the rest of the way across the bathroom, even over the tub, and slammed him against the beige tile so hard that it knocked a few of them loose. Nick’s head smacked audibly against them and he groaned at the impact.

The men were around the same height, but Dean was honed by years of firefighting and fueled by rage. One hand gripped high on Nick’s collar, while his arm pressed against the man’s chest. Then into his throat.

“Give me a reason,” Dean said, in a voice much calmer than he felt. Behind his eyes was wildfire.

“What?” Nick choked.

You finally broke through enough of your shock to know you had to do something.

“Dean!” you uttered. You cautiously went to him, but he glanced at you over his shoulder in warning.

“Stay there,” he told you firmly. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said, even though your voice shook. “Let’s just go.”

Despite the blood dripping down from his likely bruised nose, Nick chortled a laugh. It earned Dean’s slow head turn, returning his attention to the decision at hand. His fist tightened in Nick’s shirt.

“You heard me,” Dean said. His voice was laced with steel. “I said give me a reason not to break your miserable fucking neck.”

“Dean,” you gasped.

“Not sure that’s a good idea, fireman,” Nick slurred. “I clearly don’t have all my wits about me right now. Can’t be held lia…li-ble for my actions, now can I? I’ll have your badge by end of the week.”

You let out a harsh breath and finally went to Dean. You laid a hand on his back. Every muscle was tense and straining under his white dress shirt.

“Dean,” you pressed. “Let him go. He’s not worth it.”

Nick smirked lazily in Dean’s face. It was the look of a man who was used to getting his way.

“I’d listen to her,” he said, with a mocking glint in his eyes. “Or I could just fire her on Monday. Make it easy on myself.”

Dean seethed. His forearm slowly rolled harder into the man’s neck, pressing on his windpipe. The sounds of choked air were satisfying.

“Yeah, or I’ll have the police down here in ten minutes or less,” said Dean. “I’ll clue you in on a little something. My dad’s a cop. I’ll reckon he’ll be happy to put a fucking douchebag like you in the can with the real charmers.”

Dean gave a mocking glance to Nick’s silk shirt, his gold pinky ring and loafers.

“How long do you think it’ll take for one of ‘em to make you their little bitch?” Dean said.

Nick glared back at him, with a frisson of intimidation behind his eyes. He glanced at you over his shoulder. Dean noticed and tightened his hold.

“Don’t you look at her, you piece of shit!” he warned. His voice was low and dangerous. “Make your choice. You gonna come down to the station easy, or difficult? Please say difficult.”

Nick held up placating hands. He shifted uncomfortably against the wall; one foot was planted on the ground while the other was in the tub. The shower curtain was half off its hooks.

Dean eased up enough for Nick to take a breath.

“Okay, let’s say we do that,” he said, with a cough. “I’ll get bail. Then I’ll fucking walk, ‘cause I own this town.”

“You mean your dad does,” you snapped.

Nick rolled his eyes. “Same name, same shit, sweetheart.”

Dean grit his teeth and tightened his grip again in warning. You wrapped your hand around his arm, but he didn’t budge.

Nick met his eyes.

“How about this. Get your greasy fucking hands off me, and we’ll call tonight a wash,” he proposed. “No foul, we all take our balls and go home.”

He then snorted at his own joke. “Balls…”

Dean tilted his head, but didn’t move a muscle. “Or?”

Once again, Nick smirked.

“I’ll report you to your boss for assaulting me in my own house. And uh, she’ll be fired, obviously.” He shrugged. “By the time my lawyers get done with her, she won’t be able to sling lattes at Starbucks.”

Dean’s face was stony, tight with outrage. His whole body was coiled like a spring as every cell in his body fought against ripping this man apart.

But he still felt your hands around his arm, trying to pull him back.

“Dean, don’t. He’s not worth your career. Please,” you begged.

The bathroom door pushed open again, and he heard Benny’s voice.

“Hey, brother.” He dropped a careful hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Come on, now. You got him. Ease up now.”

Dean’s teeth ground together. He looked down, and his stare bored into Nick’s. Dean pressed his forearm into the other man’s throat again, enough to almost feel the give as the man struggled for breath.

“Remember how that feels,” Dean said icily. “20579, Dean Winchester. The next time you want to threaten my badge, that’s my number.”

Nick’s eyes widened slightly. At the time, Dean took it as fear. But really, it was recognition.

Winchester, Nick thought.

Dean then leaned in closer, so only Nick would hear his next lowered words.

“First and last warning,” Dean said. “If you touch her again. If I hear anything more about you giving her a hard time, not a dime in the world is gonna save you from me.”

When Dean finally pulled his arm away and let go, Nick’s face was red and spluttering as he coughed and slumped into the bathtub.

Dean turned on his heel in anger and disgust. Andréa was supporting you with her arm around yours, but she released you to let Dean take over. You stared up at him with tearful eyes, and you reached for his hand.

He took it with his left, holding you steady. He then wrapped an arm around your shoulders and guided you out of the bathroom.

The air was tense and silent inside the Impala. It was a long drive back to your house, and Dean hadn’t looked at you once in 20 minutes. His gaze was firmly on the road. He hadn’t even turned on the radio.

You had his suit jacket draped around your frame, but your insides still felt cold. You glanced over at him and stared at his profile for a moment, wishing you knew what to say to break the silence. To reassure him that you were fine. (Even though it would've been a lie.)

He felt your stare and turned his head towards you.

“How long has this been going on?” he asked. His voice was gruff. “Andréa said she’s been noticing something off about you for a while.”

Your lips pressed together. “Can this part wait until we get home…please?”

Dean’s jaw ticked, but he turned back to the road ahead.

The car was silent for the rest of the hour.

It was a relief to turn the key into the door lock and step through the threshold of your house. Dean followed you inside and tossed his wallet and car keys on the side table by the door.

Somehow he always managed to miss the little basket you put there for exactly those things, but you weren’t about to remind him.

You slipped off your heels and went into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, to steady yourself. Dean leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. He didn’t say anything, but you still felt his eyes on you.

With a sigh, you turned and met his gaze.

“Just tell me,” he said. “How long?”

You took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

“It started before I even met you, Dean.”

His brows raised high. He tilted his head at you as incredulous anger tightened his face.

“What?” he said. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

You shook your head and grabbed his arm. “Okay, come here.”

You led him into the living room and sat beside him on the couch. You explained that it started small, with compliments on your clothes, your hair. Then it was lingering looks, “innocent” brushes of his hand, touching your arm, your shoulder.

When you’d tried to put distance between you and Nick, the drunken shenanigans began. The comments grew heinous and sickening, and so did his threats.

And nothing you did worked. Not distance and professionalism. Not refusing his advances outright. Not threatening to go to HR.

All while you spoke, Dean was quiet, but on edge. You saw it in how he gripped his knee, with his other hand fisted against his mouth, elbow resting on his thigh.

But the hardest part of the conversation came when you told Dean about the day of the car accident—how Nick had demanded you come to his office and gave you a sickening ultimatum.

At that, Dean could no longer remain still. He got up and started to pace across the living room. He was a man of action, you knew, and his reaction was almost everything you’d feared.

I should've told him, you thought. You knew.

Although you now felt relieved, even in your guilt, you also knew this next part wasn’t going to be fun either. Because Dean finally erupted.

“And you didn’t tell anyone?” he asked.

Briefly, you closed your eyes. “No.”

“Why? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” His hand buried itself in his hair as his jaw clenched. Even if your friend Andréa hadn’t known, she’d still seen enough to suspect something. It completely blew his mind, in the worst of ways.

“Jesus Christ!” he shook his head. “Why am I always the last one to know when something’s going on with you?”

Tears watered in your eyes as you looked up at him. You opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off.

“I mean, really. What are we doing here, huh?” he exclaimed, his hands open wide. “Honestly, tell me. Because if you can’t trust me, then I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Your eyes widened, a trill of panic lacing down your spine. You stood up and went to him.

“Dean, please, it wasn’t about that,” you said. You implored him with your eyes to understand. “I wanted to tell someone…God, you don’t know how bad I wanted to tell you. But I knew how you’d react. Just like this. I didn’t want to make the situation worse!”

He frowned deeply. “You didn’t want help? You didn’t want me to protect you?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you snapped. But then, you sucked in a shaking breath, trying to calm yourself. You got closer and rested a hand against his chest.

“Of course I’m grateful that you protected me. Dean, I love you for it.”

You grasped the ends of his jacket with both hands. All you really wanted to do was bury yourself in his warmth and sleep for the next ten years. You were still raw and frayed inside.

Dean looked down at you, and his heart clenched. He couldn’t help but hold you back. His arms wound around your lower back as he pulled you against him. His chin rested above your head, and you sighed in relief.

“I thought I could handle it,” you confessed, in a smaller voice. “I worked so damn hard…I wanted to fight for my job. But Nick knew I didn’t have the money or the resources to fight back for real if I reported him, or even if I sued him. And before tonight, I didn’t have enough to take to the police.”

Dean pulled away just enough to see your face. He grasped your arms, gentle but firm.

“I’ll take you to the station right now,” he said. “My dad can help you. Hell, Sam can help you.”

You bit your lip and shook your head.

“You heard him, Dean. With his money and connections, he’ll get off. And then he’ll make both of our lives hell,” you said. “He’ll go after your badge—”

“He can fucking try,” he snapped.

“Stop, okay? I don’t want that,” you pleaded.

A sharp breath escaped through his nose, and he let you go.

“You’re fucking impossible, you know that?” he said. “How can I help you if you won’t let me?”

He was beside himself with frustration, and even hurt. You knew it in the way he tried to walk away from you, but you reached for his arm to stop him, with tears burning in your eyes. You didn’t want him to think that you didn’t want his support. That you didn’t trust him.

Because that couldn’t have been any farther from the truth.

“I’m sorry!” Your tears finally escaped, trailing down your cheeks. You tugged him back towards you, earning his furrowed glance. “I was…scared. I…I didn’t know what to do. Maybe I just didn’t want to deal with it at all.”

The longer Dean looked at your face, the more he crumbled.

Once again, he turned to gather you back into his arms. And there your tears fell in earnest. Your body trembled with quiet sobs, and he held you tighter. His heart broke a little more as his hand soothed over your hair. He shushed you more gently, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Okay. It’s okay. Don’t apologize. You shouldn’t have had to deal with this, let alone for this damn long,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward for a moment as he mentally kicked himself. You didn’t deserve this, or his anger either.

He just couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed any signs, like Andréa had. All these months… It threatened to drive him up a fucking wall.

“You’re safe, and I’ve got you,” he said, continuing to hold you securely against him. “We’ll handle this, like everything else.”

After a moment, you nodded, letting out another shaky breath. You squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face into his chest.

You already knew you must’ve looked a state, after the night you’d had, but you didn’t truly realize it until you were looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Mascara and lipstick smudged, hair disheveled, tears staining your cheeks.

Ugh. You hastily scrubbed your face clean with makeup wipes. Then you tamed your hair, brushing through the frizz and calming it back into relative normalcy.

You went for the zipper of your dress next, but you couldn’t get it down all the way. You turned to look over your shoulder.

“Dean,” you called.

He was in your room, rifling through his bag to grab the clothes he’d brought to sleep in.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Come ‘ere a sec?”

He obliged you, drawing into the bathroom. His white dress shirt was only half unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up. You met his eyes in the mirror.

“Can you unzip me?” you asked.

Dean looked down where your hands were holding both sides of the zipper on your dress. He took one side from you and unzipped it the rest of the way, stopping at the small of your back. He caught sight of the red, sheer lingerie underneath.

Noticing the way he paused, you smiled slightly. You turned toward him and tugged the dress down the rest of the way, so he could see the rest of the ensemble. It was a simple corset-style nightie, but true to your word, the lace was paired with satin trim lines.

Your hands ran up his sternum and undid the last buttons on his shirt. You grasped near his collar and leaned up on your toes for a slow kiss. Dean unconsciously held you to him by your shoulders, his eyes closing at the feel of you.

But when they next opened, he caught sight of the bruise on your shoulder. It was about the size of a thumbprint.

His throat tightened. After a moment, he parted from you, but he didn’t continue where you left off. You looked up at him in confusion.

“Baby?” you asked.

Dean shook his head. He couldn’t answer you; couldn’t even articulate what the hell was in his head. So he just turned and went back into the room for his change of clothes. It left you frowning, bereft, and worried.

You changed into an old shirt and some shorts before you got into bed. You slipped under the covers and watched Dean. He sat with his back to you as he unclipped his watch and set it down on the nightstand. By now he’d changed into his faded, gray Lawrence Fire Department shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

Your throat constricted with emotion, namely with anxiety.

“Are you still mad at me?” you asked.

Dean paused. He glanced back at you, saw you laying there with a hand gripped into the covers. His brows furrowed when he saw your shining tears.

He turned and got into bed with you. He slid his arm under your head and wordlessly encouraged you to come closer. His free hand soothed across your arm.

“I’m not mad at you,” he said at last. But he was still upset, and deeply unsettled. As the night replayed in his mind, he knew that at the root of his fury, there was fear.

“I just keep thinking,” he said. “What would’ve happened if I hadn’t called out of work tonight.”

You looked down at that. You laid a hand on his chest.

“I wouldn’t have gone to the party,” you said. Though if you were honest with yourself, you probably would’ve thought yourself safe with Benny and Andréa. “I just…I really didn’t think he would try to—”

You tried to take a breath to steady yourself, but it was a tremulous release. The memory flashed behind your eyes, the remnants of panic and fear under your skin.

You didn’t realize you were crying until Dean’s hand was caressing your cheek, brushing away your tears.

“All right, shhh. I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s over,” he said. Once again, he pulled you into his arms and held you close. Guilt hit him between the ribs for upsetting you all over again. “I promise you’re safe, and I’ve got you.”

You did your best to take in deep breaths, letting them out more steadily. Dean wanted to put the matter to bed for tonight. He really did…but he couldn’t help pressing one last thing.

“Just tell me you’re not going back there on Monday, unless it’s to HR,” he said.

You paused, shook your head a little. You didn’t want to rev him up again, but you knew Nick.

“He doesn’t make idle threats, Dean,” you reminded him. “But there’s a reason why he waited until tonight, at his house. He’s not going to try his luck at the office, where everyone’s watching.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean retorted.

You saw his point, but you almost didn’t want to acknowledge it. You couldn’t afford to quit.

“I still need my job, for now,” you said. “But I will start looking for something else, so I can get out as soon as possible. I promise.”

Dean wasn’t happy. Both of you knew it. You also sensed that he wanted to argue more, but was holding back for now. You appreciated that.

You truly didn’t want to get into it anymore with him. You just wanted to close your eyes and try to forget about tonight, knowing that you’d fail.

Dean still held you, with his hands rubbing up and down your back. His touch and his heartbeat soothed you until you managed to fall asleep.

AN: Dean knows, and it ain't pretty. What did you think of the confrontation? Unfortunately, I'm drawing from real events here (not myself).

Next Time:

The mystery of "Azazel" thickens, Dean deals with another tricky fire, and the reader has a realization of her own...

“Yeah, well. This one’s a rat bastard in human clothing,” you replied.

“Ooh, sounds like my old biology professor,” Jo chimed in. She was drying out some newly clean glasses behind the counter along with Ellen. “He had a reputation for scoping out freshman girls.”

You made a gagging sound as you reached for the delectable martini glass Ellen slid your way.

“Men are disgusting,” you said. Jo snorted.

“99.8% of them, yeah,” she said. But her gaze drew towards the door when Dean Winchester came in. And she added, “A few of ‘em are all right.”

Was it just you, or was there a softer look in her blue eyes when she noticed Dean?

Keep Reading: PART 14

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

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#Boiling Point #Smoke Eater #Part 13 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #firefighter AU #dean winchester AU #spn #supernatural #benny lafitte #zepskies writes

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chillgamesh-the-swing · 1 month ago

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what are y'all talking about Stan is a perfectly good cook. newly kicked out, sleeping in his car, you KNOW that boy is washing dishes at some dirtbag diner. now maybe he can't keep a gig for long, he's got a problem with authority and steals out of the register on a daily basis, but while they last it's better than working at a bar cause you get free meals, and you can always drive a few miles out and find another hole in the wall that's never heard of the last one that fired you. so he picks it up here and there, nothing fancy, pancakes and eggs and burgers, stuff that's cheap and filling. he definitely considers ketchup a vegetable, but also eats enough beans and potatoes that he probably doesn't have any serious vitamin deficiencies, even when the sales money pit gets real deep and he ends up dumpstering behind restaurants to scrounge up a semi decent meal. he never has a real kitchen until the shack, and he stocks up on canned food, and saves his bacon grease, and if he burns the hashbrowns he has to eat them anyway so he makes sure not to burn them. maybe he picked up a handful of special dishes on the road, dirty rice, Colombian arepas, fried fish. he certainly doesn't have cash to spare for a lot of fresh ingredients and seasonings, and he keeps insisting that he doesn't need that stuff anyway. but it helps break up the monotony of 50 easy recipes for brown meat.

#grunkle stan is a master of Shit In A Skillet cooking and you cannot convince me otherwise #gravity falls #stan pines #this got away from me a bit. lmao 🤷

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fictionismyreality3 · 2 months ago

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141 as First Responders

Warnings: fire, mentions of fire related injuries, mentions of vomiting

Notes: I know I’ve been posting a lot of cod fics lately but I’m going down a spiral rn GIMME GIMME GIMME-

Fire Captain!Price who was the one to ring the alarm for the fire on your street, calling the boys to their stations and driving the truck through the ironically heavy rainstorm. He barked orders to the guys, sending hoses left and right as he stared down one of the worst fires he’d seen in his career. Fire Captain!Price who spat out a curse when he found out the owner of the house that was burning down was girl who volunteered at the last firehouse bake sale.

Sergeant!Soap who grimaced when he saw your body being pulled from the flames, his usually lighthearted demeanour and tendency to Jake in the face of crisis faltering at the sight. Sergeant!Soap who could only crack a few weak jokes about his Captain’s handle moustache and how it looked straight out of the 80s when you were laid down on the grass, gasping and choking as the fresh air barged into your lungs.

Medic!Gaz who deftly tended to the injuries you’d suffered, thanking whatever gods were listening for not letting you get burnt too badly, ignoring the way his hands shook as he put an oxygen mask over your face, lifting your head with a gentleness he didn’t feel in the moment. Medic!Gaz who kept muttering quiet words of reassurances as he treated you even though you couldn’t hear him, telling you over and over again that you were safe and that you were in good hands now.

Lieutenant!Simon who was the one to pull you from your burning house, his arms strong and purposeful as he shielded your limp body from the flames with his own, not knowing what to do but stare after he put you down on the dewy grass for the medics. Lieutenant!Simon who puked his guts out behind the truck after the flames got put out, not understanding where the pit in his chest was coming from. Lieutenant!Simon who was the one responsible for the unmarked flowers on the table beside your hospital bed.

#au #headcanon #task force 141 #tf 141 #141 x reader #cod 141 #captain price #captain price x f!reader #simon riley #simon riley x f!reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x f!reader #john soap mactavish #soap x f!reader

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starhvney · 1 month ago

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𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝟑 | 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟑: 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 & 𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃

𝐂𝐖: paranoia, anxiety, physical violence

𝐀/𝐍: mama, a kidnapper behind YOU <3

𝐖𝐂: 5,800+

𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑: @arienic

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 ☆ 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒

“i can’t believe your parents casually own riverfront property in the mountains. i know we’re here already, but i still can’t get over it.”

“have you seen our house?” zane deadpans sarcastically, rolling his eyes and looking back at aphmau. he’d been hunched over on that log the whole morning, squinting down at the nintendo he’d brought with him.

“you shouldn’t brag,” vylad murmurs from where he knelt down by the ice chest, right by garroth who was cooking everyone lunch on the grill.

“whatever. i don’t know why either of you or mom wanted me to go on this stupid trip.”

“because you need to get out more. the sun is healthy for you, you know.”

you turn your head from the squabbling brothers, rubbing them out as you look around at the scenery. aphmau’s shock wasn’t lost on you, either. the summer sun wasn’t too hot thanks to the northern region this property sat on, yet the rays that shone through the tree leaves and hit your face still kissed your skin with warmth. the distant noise of the river flowing and birds chirping was the only thing heard aside from your friends’ chatter. tall, beautiful trees surrounded the area, closing in the clearing this camping—or more glamping setup was in.

a tall watchtower loomed up on the small hill above you, and below it laid a bunker you hadn’t yet explored. you and the group are currently gathered around the fire pit, the small log cabin everyone was bunking in just off to the side. honestly, as shocked you were to be in a place this beautiful, you’re more shocked everyone’s parents were okay with you guys coming here alone. a bunch of teenagers alone, with no adult supervision? you guess due to your parents’ past friendship (save for laurance), they trusted each other’s kids to be good and not stir up too much trouble. but still.

it makes you wonder. when everyone else in this group grows older, will you all trust each other the same as your parents do? as you all do now? would your kids be friends? would you even keep your friends for that long?

“you look lost in thought,” aphmau murmurs from beside you.

katelyn is next to her, turning her attention to you as she adjusts her blue flannel that matches aphmau’s purple and your own favorite color. the incoming sophomore had insisted you three matched, saying flannel shirts “so matched the camping vibe” and that the girls of the group matching would be “super duper cute”.

“just… thinking.”

“about what?” katelyn prods.

if you’d tolerate my friendship for much longer.

“the future.”

“ooh, what about it?”

“just what we become. if we’ll all be together by then.”

“hopefully not,” zane grumbles under his breath, earning a sharp glare from not only his brothers but also laurance who’d been quietly observing the conversation.

“it would be so cool if we all lived in the same neighborhood one day!” aphmau suddenly says, hands clasped together as she completely ignores zane’s remark. “on the same street!”

“do you know how hard that would be to find a bunch of houses for sale together like that? you’d have to know, like, a really important realtor.” katelyn says, before her own words clip short at the end as she looks over to the ro’meave brothers, eyebrow raised. “i guess it’s not completely impossible… perhaps…”

“you’d have to really do something big to convince our dad to do that.” vylad muses. “unless something super crazy happened and we all had to live together for like… our safety or something.”

“that’s a weird way to put it.” laurance snorts.

“i’m just saying! it would be a huge loss money-wise for him.”

“he’s right,” zane mutters. “thankfully something like that won’t be necessary, so i won’t have to live by you freaks.”

aphmau gawks, putting her hands on yours and katelyn’s heads. “excuse me? i bet the three of us would be amazing roommates. we’d be the best neighbors!”

“ehhh…” katelyn starts.

“ehh?! what do you mean eeeehhhh? you wouldn’t want to room with me?”

laurance turns to you, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “did one eye just call us freaks? has he seen his haircut?”

“stop,” you snort, giving a scorning slap to his hand. “don’t be rude.”

“hey! he’s garroth’s little brother, so he's my little brother. i get to make fun of him like one,” he defends, eyeing the younger boy with mischief in his eyes. “besides, i’ve been sent here on this earth to humble both him and garroth. they desperately need it.”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile inching onto your face. it was kind of fun to tease them. “but not vylad, huh?”

“nah, look at him.” he gestures towards the youngest, the boy smiling absentmindedly while listening to aph, kate, and zane squabble. “you really can’t make fun of that. bro’s at peace.”

“that’s… so true. he’s really well put together, actually.”

your eyes drift to garroth, who’s setting the freshly cooked food down on the trays

“damn, no plates,” he sighs under his breath, looking around. “how did we forget that?”

vylad frowns, looking at his older brother. “i thought there were some in the cabin…? do we need to run to the store?”

the blond shakes his head, setting the freshly grilled meat onto the metal tray. “no, no. there should be some in the bunker’s storage. i’ll go look.”

you jump to your feet at the mention of the bunker, dusting the stray bark and dirt that stuck to your legs. “i’ll help. i wanted to see what it looked like, anyways.”

garroth shrugs with a smile, slowing his long stride for you to catch up as he trudges up the hill. “it’s not really anything special. just some dusty boxes and stuff down there.”

“aw, man. no secret lab?”

“i’m afraid not. sorry to disappoint.” he grins, stepping forward to open the hatch.

a shiver runs down your spine at the cool air that wafts up from the dark room below, the contents inside hidden beyond the creaky staircase before you. something about the energy it gave off both drew you in and repelled you at the same time, keeping you still in place as you stared at the dark pit below.

“you scared? i can go first,” garroth offers, waving his hand in front of your face.

“huh? oh no, i’m not scared.”

“…sure…” he teases, snickering at the glare you send as he leads the way. “don’t worry. if you turn back now i won’t tell the others you’re a scaredy cat.”

“scaredy cat? how old are you?”

“older than you.”

you roll your eyes, and despite wanting to smack the boy’s forehead, your focus turns to the buzz of the single lightbulb that flickers on as you both make it to the bottom of the steps. garroth walks over to some boxes and crates that had been stacked in the corner, leaving you to look around at the concrete walls around you.

he was right, there wasn’t much special about it. nothing but cobwebs and crates filled the bunker, aside from a pile of rocks and dirt piled in the corner behind the stairs. as garroth continues to shuffle through his family’s storage, you curiously walk over to the debris. strange. sure, this was just a small vacation spot for the ro’meaves, but they always kept everything so tidy. why would they just leave this junk in here?

squinting your eyes, you catch a dark, brownish red painted on the wall. the shadow of the staircase kept it too dim to read, but you also catch a crack in the wall that looked like an old covered-up doorway. something about it sent a shiver up your spine, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. why is this place freaking you out so much?

“what are you looking at?” garroth suddenly asks from behind you, making you jump in place.

“oh, i was just trying to read this.” you point to the wall, and he pulls a flashlight from his pocket, shining it onto the dusty surface.

you were right. dark, reddish brown is rather messily painted onto the wall as if it were done in a hurry. the writing is illegible, whether it’s in another language or just poorly written indiscernible by you. though, above the writing, you did recognize one thing. it wasn’t words or strange signs, but instead a symbol of a very familiar divine figure.

“is that the irene sigil?”

“oh, yeah. that was there since i was a kid—as long as i can remember. mom just brushed it off saying it was dad playing a prank on us to try and scare us or something. but honestly, i always thought it was just kinda weird.”

“yeah… i know it’s probably paint… but doesn’t that look like blood or something?”

garroth snorts and begins to shake his head, before he hums and leans forward with furrowed brows. “you know… i remember it being brighter red when i was younger. now it’s kinda brown. i’m not great at science but isn’t that what happens when blood oxidizes for a long time or something?”

you raise an eyebrow at that, the two of you making nervous eye contact from the corners of your eyes.

“surely it’s just dirt and time that made the paint fade. why would it be blood?” you dryly laugh, standing straight again.

“yeah. blood would be weird. i think it’s just this place. always gave me the creeps.” garroth nods, following your awkward laughter as he stands tall himself, lifting the small stack of paper plates in his hand. “i uh—i found some plates by the way. so we should probably go eat now.”

“right, right,” you agree, glancing one last time at the ominous drawings before the two of you climb the stairs quicker than you had descended them.

☆

“man. to be able to spend the rest of my days floating around in the water. that would be the life,” katelyn murmurs, her head bobbing on top of the water as she floats on her back. “i know i’m a mermaid in another life.”

you glance over to her from the float you had lazily thrown your arms over. her hair flowed from her head in tendrils, the color darker from the water but occasionally shimmering as the sun's rays hit the strands. her pale skin and light blue swimsuit stood out from the darker water below her, making her practically glow against the river’s surface.

“i could see that, actually.”

katelyn lifts herself upright, starting to giggle. “right?”

“hey guys! if we want to kayak then we should do it before it gets dark,” garroth calls from the rope swing on the opposite side of the river bank. “you still want to go?”

“of course!” kate calls back, as if the answer was obvious.

vylad whoops while laurance swings himself over the water, the boy flipping back in the air as he goes. he appears on the surface a moment later, smiling as he spits the water from his mouth. “we’ll grab them from the shed!”

“is zane coming?” you ask, wading backward towards the small wooden dock that aph was perched on.

“he’s still pouting up in the cabin. you can go see if he wants to come,” vylad says. “…he probably won’t, though.”

“okay, i’ll go check, anyways.”

“are you sure you don’t want to come in the water, aphmau?” katelyn asks, swimming up to the edge with you.

“ummm, yep!” she smiles, her demeanor seeming a bit nervous as she eyes the flowing river ahead. “just don’t feel like swimming.”

“well, maybe you can kayak with us instead. you don’t even have to get wet for that.”

“maybe…”

wrapping a towel around your shoulders, you begin the walk back up to the campsite, grateful for the stone steps that had been built into the steep hill. trees hung over the path, keeping you shaded while the cool mountain breeze bristled the leaves over your head. your friends’ laughter and splashing in the water fade into the background as you finally make it to the top, your footsteps falling into the grass and dirt as you march up to the cabin door.

it’s dark inside, save for the natural light that filtered through the windows and the lamp lit up next to zane’s bunk. he laid back on the pillows, hoodie pulled over his head as he clicked away at his game. despite your obvious entrance, he completely ignores it, not even sparing a glance in your direction.

“hey.”

“what.”

you hold back the eye roll that fights against your eyelids, instead quietly sighing under your breath.

“we’re going kayaking in a minute. want to come?”

“no.”

“it’s the last evening of our trip. don’t you want to at least try to have a little fun?”

“no. i don’t care about swimming or kayaking, so why would i?”

“because i came all the way up here to get you to go.”

“then it was a waste of your time.”

you pull in another sharp breath, and despite the desire to just turn around nagging at your brain, you couldn’t ignore the image of him curled on the school tile. clearly, despite his harshness and wanting to seem like he didn’t care, he did seek validation from others. his whole act of being a punk and trying to get that validation from gene of all people nagged at your head.

“you know… actually not having people and friends who care about you isn’t very much fun. i’m sure a lot of people would kill to be in your place right now.” you shift on your feet. “not trying to lecture you or something, but you should at least try and have a little fun, since you’re already stuck here. in the future, you might regret not taking advantage of this time with everyone.”

“i don’t need you to tell me anything,” he grumbles, though not sounding as snappy as before. “i don’t like socializing. is it that hard to understand?”

“no. i don’t necessarily like it all the time, either. it can be really draining. but so is being alone all the time. you can think you like it but it eventually just makes you bitter. you never know when you’ll turn around needing someone to help you only to realize you’ve pushed them all away.”

“oh, like you’d know anything about that,” he snips. “you get coddled by everyone 'cause you can’t go outside without getting scared about some—“

he flinches like the sour words that left his mouth had spat out of his lips before he could even think of them.

“what an awful thing to say. you don’t know anything.”

his mouth is agape, and the eye that’s visible to you for once seems full of guilt.

“the offer still stands. i just thought i’d let you know.” you turn around, teeth tugging at the skin of your lip as you step out of the cabin.

stupid boy.

you make it to the edge of the camp, at the top of the stone stairs, when the cabin door creaks open and closes. quickened footsteps follow after you a moment later, before the lanky boy quietly falls in place next to you. his head is low, eye trained on the rocky path beneath your feet.

a beat passes in silence, your eyes locked on the steps ahead. he sighs tensely, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“sorry,” he mumbles. “that was shitty to say. even for me.”

you start down the steps, shrugging. “it’s fine.”

he starts to follow, and while no more apologies leave his lips, you can tell he’s sorry enough based on the fact he was still following you to the dock. that alone was enough to surprise you, considering he’d likely rather shoot his own foot than apologize even to his own two brothers.

“woah, you actually got him out here. you have secret powers or something?” laurance raises his eyebrows, shooting a questioning look at zane who loomed behind you as you approached the dock.

“something like that,” you muse.

“i don’t know if i want to go,” aphmau mutters, her arms wrapped around herself as she rocks on her feet by the water.

the kayaks are lined up by her feet, four double-seaters in a row.

“well, even zane is going so you definitely have to,” katelyn says, splashing a bit of water by the girl’s feet and giggling when she leaps back.

“you don’t have to, but it’ll be fun! you can go with zane since he also doesn’t want to get wet. then you can both be reassured knowing you won’t tip the other in,” you suggest.

“i would rather not share with her.” zane sneers, eyeing aphmau up and down with a rather sassy look.

the girl takes great offense to this, her fists clenched by her sides. “well—! i don’t want to share with you, either! you have a stupid face!”

“wow. i thought we left kindergarten.” garroth rolls his eyes, nodding his head to laurance, who has already dragged one out into the water and is occupying himself by attempting to jump inside. “looks like he already left with one, anyways.”

katelyn pulls you towards one of the three left, pushing you into the spot in front of her as she slides in herself. you nearly tip over into the water again from the sudden movement, yelping as water splashes on your lap.

“well, that leaves vylad and me in this one. come on you two.” garroth motions to the last kayak left, raising his eyebrows challengingly at the two pouting teens left on the dock. “let’s be civil.”

it took ten minutes of complaining and nervous shuffling before the whole group was out on the water. despite the drama of it all, it was worth it. despite aphmau’s sudden fear of water which you hadn’t noticed before and zane’s reluctance to experience any joy, you could tell they were at least slightly enjoying this, too. the sun was painting the clouds in different shades of orange and pink as it made its way to the horizon, leaving you all surprisingly quiet as you all soaked in the moment.

“what’s on your mind?” katelyn suddenly asks from behind you, and despite nobody else turning their heads over, you could tell they were listening. “and don’t say nothing like you usually do lately.”

a huff leaves your nose, and a few moments pass before you answer. “just about… how…”

“the stalker?” aphmau whispers, pulling everyone’s eyes towards you.

“...yeah. just how weird it was that he showed his face, and now it’s been since before prom since i’ve seen him or the black suv. i just want to know what he’s thinking.”

laurance spins the kayak oar in his hands, before using it to pull himself closer to you.

“you hadn’t seen him before?”

“well, no. i mean, yes, but i didn’t realize it was him until later.” you rub your eyes with the palms of your hands. “it isn’t the first time he’s disappeared for a while, but he gets bolder each time he 'shows' himself to me. it’s just been making me feel on edge, lately, is all.”

there isn’t a response to that for a few beats.

“sorry, that was a mood dampener.”

there’s a collective shake of heads (besides zane), a few protestant “no”s echoing across the group.

“it just sucks. how has police not done anything?”

“they can’t actually do anything unless an actual threat to my life is made. plus, he’s so inconsistent with his appearances that it would take a lot of resources and time from emergency services if they tried tracking him. at least, that’s what the cops said before. that’s why i moved in the first place.”

katelyn scoffs. “that’s such bullshit. they just wait until something bad happens? it shouldn’t matter how long it takes. that’s psychological warfare.”

you shrug, bringing your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on them. “yeah, but unfortunately that’s how it works. i guess i’m just scared that i’ll have to run again. i’ve never had friends like you guys… so the thought of having to leave you all behind right as i get to be normal is really scary.”

“no matter what happens, you’ll always be our friend," vylad says, giving you a hopeful grin.

“and as your friends, we’re here to protect you,” garroth adds, uncharacteristically serious. “we won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

☆

the van rocks forward as garroth parks, the sunset shining through the windows and creating bright shapes across your eyelids. cracking your eyes open, you reluctantly pull your cheek from where it had snuggly rested on katelyn’s shoulder, consequentially stirring up aphmau who was laid across your lap. the icee she’d gotten on the trip back was still precariously set between her legs—it was shocking that it hadn't spilled onto her lap as the three of you slept in the back.

aphmau’s house meets your eyes as you clamber out of the back seat, your own just right down your line of vision. you were back home. a smile lifts on the corner of your lips at that. it wasn’t just a place you moved into, anymore. it was home. as were the teens that crawled out from the ro’meave’s van. home.

a strange shiver of being watched prickles at your neck, and your attention turns from your friends to the street behind you. nothing is there but the other houses on the street, the cars you saw regularly parked in their driveways.

everything is fine. the neighborhood is peaceful in the evening time, the summer insects chirping away as their time of the night comes. the air around you is calm, yet your breath seems to catch in your throat, the hot air invading your lungs rather than warming them. your heart thuds in your chest, its pace so rapid it feels like it’s stuttering against your rib cage.

you hadn’t stopped thinking about the markings on the bunker wall the whole trip, the imagery of the creepy, bloody-looking drawings still imprinted in your mind. on top of that, the conversation you’d had last evening was still buzzing around in your head, making for a rough mix of paranoia.

“are you okay?” aphmau whispers from right next to you, finally pulling your eyes from the street to the worried-looking girl next to you.

“yeah… just thinking. about things.”

that was eloquent.

you’re grateful for this trip. ever since she’d started talking to that aaron guy she seemed to have a lot less time to hang out or even talk to you as much, so having some time with the girl by herself was nice. you honestly didn’t blame her for her puppy love with the guy. you’d thought of him as a delinquent at first, but he wasn’t so bad at prom. he was a little quiet, but he was actually pretty nice as far as you could tell. he was the tall, dark, and handsome type, and that was a perfect contrast to the walking sun that aphmau was.

she hums looking unsure, before reluctantly letting it go as you wave her off.

“really?” katelyn suddenly groans, staring down at her phone.

laurance turns to look over his shoulder at the girl, a mischievous smile dancing across his face.

“what?”

“you know what! you little creep, why'd you post this? delete it, now!”

laurance begins to snicker. “no. it’s funny.”

you walk to katelyn’s side as she sends a sharp glare at him, peering over her shoulder to see her instagram open. recently posted by laurance was a picture of him and vylad cheesing into the camera, their faces at the bottom of the screen while you, kate, and aph were passed out in the background.

“i look awful. my mouth is open! i look like a mouth breather!”

“no… you three look… adorable…” he says between giggles, before yelping as the girl charges at him. aphmau chases after them as they run inside, her hands frantically waving for them to stop.

you walk after them, the ro’meave brothers—save for zane who’d been dropped off on the way—following along behind you into the salome residence. surprisingly you didn’t hear any shouting or wrestling as you’d expect, and instead, kate and laurance have crowded around the kitchen island that was filled with snacks.

sylvanna lets go of aphmau, who’d been wrapped up in her clutches for a tight hug, and sets her sights on you.

“mija!” she rushes you, pulling you in her arms and rocking side to side. “did you all have fun?”

“yes! it was a lot of fun,” you laugh, the tenseness in your shoulders leaving with every shake from the woman. “thank you for letting us all stay here for the night.”

“of course! as long as the boys here behave themselves, then your vacation doesn’t have to end just yet!” she says, her head whipping to the three guys who stiffen at her burning glare.

laurance looks at the feisty woman from the corner of his widened eyes, cheeks full of chips as he nods.

“of course. we’d never, miss sylvanna.” garroth smiles. “our mum taught us better.”

“of course she did!” she lets you go from her grasp, walking back over to the group with a chipper grin. “just making sure you don’t forget. zianna gave me permission to whoop all of your asses if you try anything!”

“mom…” aphmau sighs, rubbing her forehead.

“what? just speakin’ the truth, yo!”

aphmau groans into her hands.

you walk over to the snacks, picking up some small bite-sized things to nibble on as the lively conversation continues around you. everyone looks so happy. their smiling faces bright in the dim kitchen light, laughter carrying through the air of the cozy house and wrapping around you like a tight warm hug. part of you wishes you could sit in this moment forever, standing in the kitchen and watching your friends chatter amongst themselves. it was such a simple moment, yet you felt as though you should hold on to it.

“nothing—“ you start, before shaking your head with a smile. “i’m just glad we’re all friends.”

everyone stops, and as they all smile at you you don’t feel the need to hide or curl away like you usually would when faced with many eyes on you. there’s no prickling in your hands, or a coldness in your chest. you just feel warm.

“awwww,” sylvanna coos, aphmau making a similar sound as the two wrap their arms around you and press their cheeks into your hair. “we love you too!”

“you’re the cutest.” katelyn laughs, wrapping her arms around the three of you—with the boys following quickly after.

the moment lasts for a good ten seconds before you feel overwhelmed by the love being poured onto you.

“okay, okay. i’m gonna run to my house really quick to grab some things.” squirming out of their arms with a giggle, your cheeks burn hot from the affection.

“okay, mija. don’t take long.” sylvanna taps your nose.

you nod and make your way to the front door, pausing when you realize the sun has already disappeared, leaving the space beyond the window dark and black. for some reason, it sends an anxious feeling through your chest, and as you reach for the door you nearly jump out of your skin as garroth’s hand lands on your shoulder.

“hey. didn’t mean to scare you.” he smiles nervously, his hand waving over your shoulder like it would wipe away the fright he’d just given you.

“oh! it’s okay, garroth. what’s up?”

“you just looked a little nervous earlier,” he says, shifting on his feet. “are you thinking about… everything? i can walk you to your house if you’re feeling scared.”

a deep breath of air fills your lungs. sweet garroth. all of your friends were, and you knew they’d all come running to help you if you called—and you were just stepping right down the street. there’s nothing to worry about.

“no, that’s okay.” you reach out to pat his arm. “thank you, garroth. i’ll be okay.”

“are you sure? i really don’t mind.”

“yeah. i’m sure.”

he looks hesitant, but takes a step back with a small smile. “okay, then. see you in a bit.”

“mhm.”

you open the door, step out, and give a wave before continuing out to the pavement. the lingering heat from the summer sun wavered in the air, though the cool night breeze was beginning to blow it away, leaving the air perfectly warm against your skin. ignoring the tingling in your fingers, you keep your shoulders high as you cut across the lawn to the sidewalk, shoes clicking against the concrete.

glancing back one last time, garroth was slowly closing the door, watching you walk away before completely shutting it.

your eyes rake the street beside you, street lamps and the moonlight lighting up every car on the road. each neighbor had their vehicles in their regular spots, everything seeming in order as you check every house one by one.

everything is fine, right? so why do you feel so on edge?

swallowing thickly, you take a shaky inhale and bring your sweaty hand up to zianna’s locket. this walk to your house feels longer than usual.

what’s that noise?

eyebrows pulling together, your eyes narrow as you look ahead, to where the street lamp ahead shone down on an idled vehicle in the road.

black paint reflected back at you, but not the lights. no, the only hint that it was on was the low hum of the engine.

you don’t realize you’ve frozen in place—nor that your breaths had stopped—until you suck in a sudden breath to chase away the swirling black dots that swam around your peripheral vision. you’re one house away from your home, two from aphmau’s. the vehicle is in front of yours.

would you have better luck running forward to your house? or turning around and booking it back to hers? have you already messed up by standing here like frozen prey?

you tear your eyes from the suv, flicking your anxiously blurred vision to the street ahead of you. a woman’s silhouette approached you, and you finally registered the clicking of her heels over the pounding of your heart in your ears and labored breathing. the distant street lamp shines on her hair, the powder blue a strangely familiar shade on your eyes. should you ask her for help? but why would a woman be out here in what looked to be formal attire?

no. she’s with him. you need to run.

it takes a second too long for your body to obey your mind, but you do turn, legs unlocking from their stiffened place and ready to run. you only make it two steps before you look up, a gasp you can only describe as terror filling your lungs when you see the man standing just five steps behind you. dark eyes bore into you, and it felt like you were staring into the depths of an evil entity rather than whoever this man was.

you bring your fist up to your face, slotting the metal whistle between your lips.

before you can even take in a full breath, the man has closed the distance, the back of his hand smacking across your cheek and pulling the locket from your fingers. you vaguely feel the clasp of the necklace break off from the back of your neck, the locket clattering to the ground and away from your reach. stumbling back from the sting of his strike, there’s barely any time to stand upright before his hand is gripping you by the back of the head, the other bringing a damp cloth up to cover your mouth and nose.

it smells sweet, overwhelmingly sweet. suddenly it’s like cotton candy has filled your head and lungs, your vision swimming dizzily. with whatever strength you have left, you dig your nails deep into the man’s hands, dragging down and successfully getting him to drop you with a grunt.

stumbling forward, you fall on the pavement, crawling to the street. your vision turns and twists, feet clumsily dragging underneath you like an injured deer.

you hadn’t made a sound yet. no one can hear what’s happening right now.

weak arms give out from beneath you, your cheek colliding with the rough street. turning your head, you try to scream, but your lungs give out on your attempt and merely exhale a small helpless whimper. heels appear in front of you, and you look up to see a halo of blue before something pricks against your neck.

and everything goes black.

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