#having profiles helps with this bur not needed

[mydear-corinthian]

love potion no. 9

sypnosis - attempting to make doctor jonathan crane be in love with you using your love potion

pairing - jonathan crane x reader (pharmacist!)

warnings - SMUT +18, p in v, fingering, creampie, jealousy, reader attempting to poison crane

notes - rushed & based of my fav song, divider by cafekitsune

main masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist

You've been working as the hospital's pharmacist for a while now. The experience was a fifty-fifty. How strange to work under the walls where high-profile criminals are admitted in the city of Gotham.

One day, while you were working on your regular evening shift, a tall man wearing rectangular glasses and a black suit let out a small cough as he approached the window of the pharmacy's counter. Setting your pen down, you looked at this man. Your gaze met his blue eyes. You noticed how his hair was neatly styled.

There was a moment of silence before you brushed up your thoughts. "Can I help you with anything, sir?"

"I'm here to get the prescription I need."

"And what's your name, sir?"

"Doctor Jonathan Crane."

Your eyes widened, and the pen in your fingers dropped as you heard the name.

That's Jonathan fucking Crane?

He looked younger than you expected to be. You thought that the head psychologist was old so he's the only psychologist in the asylum allowed to prescribe medication.

"I— Please give me a few seconds to find it, Doctor Crane," you stuttered, immediately standing up and wengoing the back of the cashier to where all the anti-depressants and anti-psychotic medicines were stored.

"Hurry up. I don't have enough time to wait," he replied, rolling his eyes out of irritation.

After a few minutes, you finally saw a brown paper bag with his name on it. You immediately grabbed it and then stapled it to ensure that the medicines were safely secured. You walked up to the desk, placing the paper box on top of it in front of Jonathan.

"Thank you," he said, looking at the metallic nameplate on your uniform. "Miss (L/n)."

After that first interaction, he has been meeting you up again in the pharmacy. Taking his usual prescription medicines. After a few more visits, he started to make a few more chats rather than greetings. Asking you how you were, when's your schedule, etc.,

During those visits, you cannot help but feel something. The way you blush every time he compliments you. The way his delicate fingers meet yours when you give him the medicines. Or the way how he just looks fucking good.

One day, you waited for Jonathan to grab his prescription, so you waited. It's been a few hours and no Doctor Crane appeared. Taking a deep sigh, you continued to do your inventory as you waited for him to come.

After a few hours of waiting, a woman knocks on the glass of the pharmacy's counter. You greeted, letting out a soft smile despite being sad for not seeing the psychologist yet.

"May I help you, ma'am?" you asked.

"I'm here to get Doctor Crane's prescription."

Your ears perked up as you heard his name. Your back stiffens as your eyes widen. Why is she here? Why isn't Jonathan here?

"I'm sorry, ma'am; who are you?" you asked in confusion. "I'm sure Doctor Crane doesn't want his prescription medicines to be taken."

The women laughed at your question and your eyebrows met together.

"Oh, I'm his assistant, silly. Maybe his soon-to-be girlfriend? Not sure yet."

What?

Your stomach churned. A mix of sadness and anger rolled up your mind. You didn't know that Jonathan was interested in anyone. You thought that you would have a chance with him. You felt ill.

You stormed out right away, grabbing the papaer box with his name on it. Putting it in front of her harshly.

Forcing on a smile, you said, "Here's the prescription, ma'am."

"Thank you." the woman replied, grabbing the paper box before walking away.

Jealousy is buried all over your body. Bur you cannot help but feel insecure. She was indeed pretty. For sure Jonathan likes her too.

But you also felt mostly anger and jealousy.

As soon as your shift ended, you hurriedly grabbed your bag and went straight to your small apartment. Turning the doorknob, you entered your apartment and removed your shoe. Grabbing a pen and paper from your cabinet, you wrote different formulas for making something for him.

A love potion.

It does sound silly but you were so obsessed with him and you want him that badly. You felt like he was yours and you were his.

The remaining days stayed the same. The same woman grabbed Jonathan's medicines. The same anger and jealousy never left you. You continued in your potion, grabbing all the hallucinogens that you needed from the rmaprimacyou will spend your night making it.

After a week, you finally finished creating the spray. You choose to make the smell the same as your perfume; to let him know that he is yours.

Arriving at the Asylum, you set your bag behind your chair as you start to do your work. There were a lot of customers that day so you kept yourself occupied.

Finally, his assistant arrived.

She approached the glass with the same cheeky smile. "Jonathan's prescription, please."

Fuck, are they in the first-name business now?

Straightening your back, you said, "I think I'll give it to Doctor Crane myself."

The assistant's head turned to your direction with a face in disbelief. She placed her phone down.

"Why?" she asked.

"Doctor Crane requested a new medicine and it contains rare chemicals and it needs to be taken care of properly. This is the last medicine in our inventory so I suggest I'll be the one to give it to him." you lied.

"Fine. I don't care with whatever medicine he wants anyway. Your pharmacists can take catfish that. I'll just go take a quick dinner break, anyways." she replied, rolling her eyes before she walked away while busy typing on her phone.

As she walked away, you let out a sigh of relief. You grabbed the paper box at the back and then the spray you placed on a small glass sprayer in your bag, hiding it in your pocket.

"Hey, Adeline, I'll just give this medicine to Doctor Crane; he requested it," you said, showing him the paper box with his name.

"Yeah sure, no problem. I'll cover the cashier for you." your friend replied.

Letting out a 'thank you', you exited the pharmacy. You didn't know where his clinic was so you tried finding his name on the big board on the entrance of the hospital that was filled with all the doctors and their clinic rooms in the Asylum. You got up the elevator and pressed the buttons. You're confident with this. You checked the formula all over again and gave you the same result but you cannot help but feel how your heartbeat thumped aggressively.

It will work.

You went out as soon as the elevator doors opened. The whole floor was quiet and there were only a few people there, mainly janitors cleaning up. You walked while looking at the small paper in your hand where you wrote his room number.

You stopped your tracks as soon as you saw his name on a sign on a black door.

Dr. Jonathan Crane, M.D, Psy.D, J. Crim. Psychol.

Letting out a deep breath, your fingers opened the door. The entrance was small. A long cushion was on the right while the assistant/secretary's table was on the left— which was empty. There was another door in front of you, which you think is his office.

You knocked three times on the door, fixing your uniform and your hair. You gripped your pocket tightly, securing it.

Your eyes met him as he opened the door. His outfit looked the same. His hairstyles led properly. His rectangular glasses shined. Jonathan's eyes then met yours.

"(Y/n)? What are you doing here?" he asked, not closing the door.

Fuck, he looks hot.

"I— I'm here for the prescription you needed, Doctor Crane," you replied, handing out the paper box with his name on your hand. "Your.. secretary said that she was busy so I decided to just give it to you instead of myself."

Jonathan's eyes still locking yours. "Oh. Well, thank you, (Y/n). Do you want to come inside?" he offered, taking the prescription in your hands gently, his fingers touching yours.

You felt a strike on your spine at the sudden short touch. Jonathan's touch was gentle and his hands felt soft.

"O-Okay.." you replied.

Jonathan opened his door widely, letting you come inside first and then him. His office was twice as big as the outside. His certificates hanging on the wall. A small scarecrow figure is displayed on the black shelves.

"Please, sit." Jonathan offered.

Nodding, you sat down. Your hand still clutching tightly to your pockets.

"How have you been?" he asked, leaning against his wooden table while you sat in front of him.

"I'm fine, Doctor Cra—"

"Jonathan. Jonathan is alright." he interrupted.

"Oh, right.." you nodded. "I'm fine, Jonathan. Lots of customers but still doing great. And you?"

"Same way either," he replied, removing his glasses as he looked at you and fuck, you find it so hot.

"So, your secretary.." you brought up the topic. "Is she your.. girlfriend?"

Your question made him laugh. Putting his glasses on he replied, "What makes you think that?"

"Well, she told me that she's your soon-to-be girlfriend so you know.." your hands never leaving your pocket.

Jonathan notices how your hands never leave your pocket. His eyes trying to know what you're hiding inside it.

"What's in your pocket?" he asked, changing the topic.

Fuck.

You sighed, giving up. You stood up and grabbed the spray in your pocket, spraying on his face a couple of puffs. You let out a relief.

His eyes squinted, attempting to rub the liquid off his face.

"How are you feeling, Jonathan?" you asked, walking towards him closely; your face getting closer to his as you trickled your fingers onto his soft face before letting your lips meet his. His hands gripped your waist softly as he kissed back, savoring each other's taste.

He finally opened his eyes and let out another laugh. You let go of him immediately, you were confused. It didn't work? But you were sure that the formula was right. You had the right chemicals. You had the best hallucinogenic chemicals in the city.

Unless..

"Let me guess.. love potion?" he asked, his lips painting a smirk on his face as he looked at you.

You panicked. "I— Why isn't it working?"

Your heels stepped backward while he moved forward. Your heart started to thump aggressively; you were panicking.

"Why isn't it working indeed." Jonathan's eyes grow wide as his lips curve into a smirk. "Well, there are only two options. Either your little experience was an absolute fail or I'm already in love with you."

The words coming out of your mouth left you gasping. He's right. There were only two options.

"But how about your secretary?" you asked.

Jonathan began walking much closer to you until both of your faces were inches apart; your waist hitting his desk. You can be sure that he can hear how loud your heartbeat is. You can smell his strong men's perfume from his neck and his wrists. You can see how ravishing his blue eyes really are.

"It's you. It's always been you." Jonathan confessed, his eyes getting soft as he looked at you.

After a few visits from the pharmacy, Jonathan started to take an interest in you. He observes how you tilt a strand of your hair to the back of your ear whenever he compliments you. How your things are always the same color which he thinks is your favorite. How your ears perked up whenever he brings small conversations about your expertise— medicines.

Jonathan's soft hands found their way to your hips, securing them; tthemknowow you were his. Your lower body sat on top of his black wooden table. His, then, lips crashed into yours again but delicately. You were shocked by the sudden confession and the kiss but you ignored it anyway; you kissed him back, gripping a fistful of his hair as the kiss deepened. The way his tongue met yours made you wet. He explored your lips and tongue, allowing him to savor your taste leaving a trail of kisses down your neck before sucking it, making you suddenly moan in pleasure.

"Ah yes," you moaned but immediately covered your mouth when you noticed how loud it was.

"Don't worry, love," he said in between kisses, continuing to mark your neck. "The whole room is soundproof. Scream all you want, doll."

The wetness in your panties became worse. Your breath hitched as he sucked that spot in your neck. His hands began to trail down to your thighs, his fingers tracing it. The tent in his pants began to be visible.

"Please— touch me, Jonathan.."

Jonathan's fingers now trailed in between your thighs, toying with your clothed clit under your skirt. The touch sends shivers down your spine. He can feel how wet you are and your white lacey panties.

His lips began to paint another sluggish smirk. "So wet for me already?" he teased.

"Please, Johnny. I need you," you cried in pleasure as his fingers started to massage your clit from your panties.

Jonathan removed your panties before throwing them off the floor. The cold air touching your sensitive cunt made you shiver. His thumb began to rub it slowly and then his pace fastened making you bob your head backward, your eyes closing as you felt the pleasure down there. The wet noise echoed all over the room. He then started to insert two of his fingers with no warning making you moaaloudud.

"Fuck!— Yes, Jonathan!"

You moaned as his finger hit that spongy spot there. Your toyed pussy clenching around his fingers. His thumb circling figure eights on your clit. Back arching, your legs squirmed.

Jonathan's fast pace made you feel the knot in your stomach tighten, feeling more wet. Your moans were getting louder and louder.

"Jon.." you moaned. "I'm close."

"Go on," he whispered, you can feel his hot breath on your neck. "Cum on my fingers."

Jonathan's pace quickened until your orgasm flowed. His fingers were coated with your white juices. Jonathan brought up his fingers to his tongue, licking it clean as he tasted your juice.

"Mhm, sweet," he smirked.

Even though you just came from your orgasm, you still have that desire for more. You want him to take you. You want to feel him.

Jonathan gave you a small sweet kiss before his hands found their way to his black trousers, unzipping them; his erection can be clear through his boxers.

"You want me that bad, huh?" he teased. "I think you're the one who drank that potion of yours."

His voice was deep, husky, and raspy which made you want him more. He removed his black blazer, leaving him with his white long-sleeved polo and a tie. You began to unzip your skirt as well, tossing it on the floor. He kisses you again deeply.

As soon as he removed his boxers, his cock sprung out. He was bigger than you expected and veiny. Jonathan began to align his cock to your dripping and aching hole and then inserted himself fully.

"Fuuuckkk—" he groaned as he felt your tight walls take him. "You're so tight."

You gasped as you felt his length take you; a loud hiss escaped from your lips.

"Are you okay? Does it hurt?" he genuinely asked as he noticed you hissed.

Shaking your head, you gripped his broad shoulders. "No— I'm fine. Just keep going."

Jonathan started to slowly thrust inside you, taking no rush which you appreciated. He was gentle. Your legs locked his hips as you embraced his shoulders with your arms.

"I've been dreaming about this since—" he let out a low groan as his hips moved closer to you . "..the day I saw you. Fuck, you're beautiful."

His thrust quickened, making you moan. Your tits were bouncing at every move he makes. Your eyes were completely shut, your head rolling back as you savored the pleasure Jonathan gave you. The way his tip hit your G-spot made you scream a series of the most pornographic moans you've ever done.

"Oh my god! Yes yes yes!"

A smirk on his face was formed when he heard your lovely moans in his ears. Your moans are probably his favorite note. His baby blue eyes met yours when you looked at him. The way he was still wearing his sexy glasses made you blush more.

"You feel so good, my love," he said in between his thrusts. "Fuck— you're mine, okay?"

"Yes, Johnny! I'm—fuck— yours!"

All you felt was nothing but love and ecstasy. Every thrust, every moan, every kiss, and every touch coming from him makes you feel weak and pleasurable.

The table you guys were fucking on aggressively moves at every movement the both of you do. His files, ball pens, and other items fell from the table but none of you minded as your business was focused somewhere else.

A feeling of wetness and and closeless throb in your stomach. Jonathan abusing your sensitive spot with his fat cock didn't help. Your moans and his grunts synchronize together as the both of you feel close.

"I'm gonna cum, love. Where do you want it?"

"Inside, please! Fuck! Fill me up, please please please!"

"My princess wants me to fill her up, yeah? Alright then."

After a few more aggressive thrusts, you felt your orgasm came. His cock was now stained with your cum as he continued.

"Gonna cum now, doll. Take it, baby. Yes yes yes!" Jonathan groaned as he finally came inside you. His dick spurts out his hot white cum inside your walls. Jonathan, then, pulled out; a mix of his load spilled out in your hole.

"Fuck, look at that," he said, watching it dripped to his black table.

Jonathan gave you another kiss but this time, it was passionate. His lips let out a series of compliments which made you flustered and blush at the same time.

"I guess I'll be the one who'll give you your medicines now," you teased.

"I look forward to that, my love."

After dressing up again, Jonathan guided you to the door, not wanting you to be late for your shift. As soon as he opened the door, the both of you were greeted by his assistant who just came in.

"Doctor Crane and... Miss (L/n)... Didn't expect you to visit here." the female assistant said, clearly not expecting you at all.

"Natalia, clear out my schedule this Friday. I'm going on a date with Miss (L/n) here." Jonathan said, making you blush at the sudden invitation.

His assistant's face turned into a frown and anger but tried to let out a fake smile before you and Jonathan left his clinic.

"Your assistant must be sad that I'm going out with you, Doctor Crane."

"Oh, baby... I'm only yours."

[kairiscorner]

OMG IF YOU WANT PLS DO WRITE THE FIC ABOUT MIGUEL SEEING OUR THIRST TRAPS 😭 salamat talagaaaa wala na kasi akong maisip maliban kay miguel

HELLOOOOO, OFC I WILL ANON, I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS HEHE this is another excuse to make more text fics bc it's starting to feel fun for me LMAO <333

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

is it not for me? – miguel o'hara x reader (reacting to your thirst traps)

a/n: kind of suggestive shit underneath the cut, sorry if you don't like it, you have every right to scroll away ^^

after getting used to the controls and operations on social media and understanding the basic goal, or lack, of it–miguel had begun scrolling through his feed like you and lyla directed him to do. he scrolled and scrolled through the endless photos, videos, and posts sent his way by the very strange algorithm of the app. he still hadn't found the right thing for him on social media and he honestly wouldn't be here if you and lyla didn't force him to try it out so much, but when he least expected it... he happened upon your account.

he saw a photo of your back, it was you taking a selfie in the mirror with hardly anything covering your back. your behind was in full view but covered up, the lighting was dim, save for the flash of your phone's camera. the caption read: "for m, hoping you'll enjoy this three-course meal 🍓"

...that did something to miguel. it set some sort of feeling off of him, something that urged him to not just click like, but to comment right then and there: "who the shock is 'm'?" but if only he knew how to comment; all he knows how to do is click like and scroll.

he clicked the like button, unsure of how to feel about that very... eye-catching photo of yours. he tried shaking the feeling off, but he just couldn't; he couldn't stop thinking about it. he scrolled back up to see who else liked your photo, it took him a few tries to figure out how to do that. he also saw a few of the preview comments, complimenting your looks and tagging their friends who had 'm' in their names–joking that the photo was for them.

it pissed miguel off that these people could think your photos were for them, when you promised him you were all his. it damaged his ego slightly, but he figured these people were just douches, simple as that.

...but he needed to be doubly sure, so he click on your profile and looked through the posts you made. you really did love showing off your behind, it seemed like you were incredibly proud of it; miguel's totally in love with your ass, don't get him wrong, bur to know other people could see it and get to revisit the sight of your ass? oh, that made him feel a bit of a stinging pain in his chest.

he hated that feeling, where he felt like you were sharing intimate bits of yourself when you kept reminding and telling him you're all his. that, and as he scrolled through your comments, he saw a lot of people who not only loved your photos and sent you many compliments, but many who told you to get off the platform–many also catcalled you in the comments, too, much to his disgust.

"can't even keep this shit in real life, what losers." he muttered under his breath as he felt his anger rise as he kept scrolling through your comment section. he had gone through almost all of your posts, memorizing all the details of your posts and how you looked in them, feeling his face and chest flare up in a fit of heat as he looked through them all one by one. he sighed as he noticed you were a little too bold in these photos, in his opinion. he didn't want you to jeopardize yourself, seeing as how there were a lot of creeps on your account, he wanted to bring it to you attention.

hence, he messaged you all about his concerns.

"for... her mother?" miguel repeated to himself as he reread your message to him. he sighed, not believing your excuse one bit, believing you directed it to someone with an 'm' in their name, like him, but he decided to play along for now to get you to fess up eventually. that, and he doesn't think you'd wish your mom would have a lovely three-course meal with your ass picture, but he did see that you took pictures of food afterwards, so... it was plausible. but you were not off the hook yet.

he sighed as you laughed at his attempt at guessing who that post was for, who 'm' was. he felt a little embarrassed, a little ashamed he thought it was him, but then he thought of who would be closest to you, had 'm' in their name, and would enjoy the three-course meal that was... you already know what. he sighed as he typed and retyped his message after deleting the previous one, trying to get himself together after outing himself as being a little expectant that those thirst traps were for him.

he finally messaged you, trying to sound stern over text, but he was completely ignored by you when you sent him a selfie of your bottom half, with little letters on your bottom that read: "good????? bad????? should i get em....."

fuck, you baited him again.

he felt his cheeks grow hot and his breath hitch in his throat as he stared at your photo for a second, hoping you wouldn't post this, that this could remain as just a little thing between you two. but then again, he couldn't control you, so he'd just try to respond back–seeming unfazed. hopefully.

he was so easy to please sometimes.

moral of the story?

miguel loves your ass and wants to beat up the creeps in your comments section, while making it known to both you and the world that your ass is all for him–nobody else.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @fiannee @fictarian @yuridopted0 @arachnoia @meeom @ophanimgold @melovetitties @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @popeheywardssecretgf

[iwillburn]

I’ve put myself in a prison of my own creation I did this to myself I over share, I tell my plans thinking people are in my corner or have my best interest at heart

I’m constantly self sabotaging pushing the people I love the most away I something do know what real anymore idk who wants me I’ve realized so much about myself this year and I’m disgusted with myself I promised my self I’d be strong I never thought I’d turn into this when I telling the truth it’s looked at as lies and when I’ve lied it was to protect myself from more pain I’m not a victim I haven’t been a good person I must accept my wrongs and take accountability all year has felt like one big reaction …… reacting to people throwing jabs at me trying to destroy my mental …. Reacting to people pull at my heart going for my soft spot using me because they know how I love and how much I have to give and my reactions are my fault as a man I should have control over how I engage with people I should know better and I’m so disappointed and how much control I have people over me, I’ve been cruel I’ve been dishonest, I’ve been cold, I’ve been angry, and over all ive been a loser when i look i. the mirror idk what looking at anymore ive been called every name in the book for incel to narcissist, self absorbed, bipolar, autistic, slow dumb, know it all, lame, goofy fucboy, burnout, junkie clunker….like make up your mind i wont pretend like i dont have issues but i know now i have to be careful and who i allow to come in my energy give theyre opinion of who i am i almost started to believe them i have so much work to do and i cant let anyone in rn i to be sure im doing whats best for me and i wish this year didnt happen but i needed very lesson every step of the way i lost my person ik she was my person and it scares me to think ill never have a connection like that ever again we had so much in common it was wild at some point i thought she was copying my every move just to get attached in reality i got caught uo in my head inlet the people around me and my past hold me back from letting this person in….. all the plans we had all the places i wanted to take her all the self improvement we did together she has been the only person in the past 10 years thats help me in ways i didnt know i needed she made me want be a better man not only for myself but for everyone around me i fucked it up but how i did is so dumb paranoia and letting other people get in between us i was gang stalked my her ex and his friends and i should kept it to myself but at some point i thought she was in on it she would pull away at random and treat me as if i was a stranger all the things we told each other started to feel as if they've never been said at all she made me feel weird or creepy for check up on her or comforting her for sub tweets i knew were aimed at me all of a sudden im a stalker or im not respecting boundaries i deactivated all my accounts not only because of the gang stalking but also because i never wanted anyone to feel like im watching them that shit made me feel gross and i care so much about her feeling and her privacy i respect this person they've go me through the tuffest time in my life they dam near brought me back to life bur i cant accept the treatment anymore i found out they had 6 profiles and they would watch me on them so the projection is crazy i started making profiles to get away i had a youtube channel input alot of work into ive learned to keep they things i hold dear to myself now my accounts kept getting reported on all platforms she use my new accounts as proof that i watching her from them but i was trying to get away from her ex and continue my career well wanna be career ive been dealing with this so long i almost started to believe her i became scared to long in anything because i felt like many im the problem i havent been perfect but wtf is going on my mental was really tested this time im still trying to understand what was real this hurt me to my core she knows how much power she has over me and i wasnt afraid to hide how important she was to me i still dont want to believe she did any of this on purpose i dont want to believe her and her ex we in on it together but ill truly never know

[residences-of-the-darkforest]

Dark Forest Resident: Antlerrose

Aliases / Nicknames: ??

Gender: she-cat

Sexuality: polysexual

Family: Ploverfur (mother), Silverstripe (father), Brightshimmer, Palesplash (sisters), Lizardpaw, Kitekit (brothers)

Other Relations: Timberfeather (mentor)

Clan: ThunderClan

Rank: warrior

Characteristics: elegant, cunning, prefers to be left alone, prone to bursts of anger

Murder Motive: wanting to be left alone

Number of Victims: 1 (accidental)

Number of Murders: 1 (accidental)

Murder Method: shoving

Known Victims: Palesplash

Victim Profile: her sister

Cause of Death: drowning

Cautionary Tale: ??

Story: 

Tragedy began before her mind could fully register what it meant.

Kitekit had eagerly lead Antlerkit, Palekit, Brightkit, and Lizardkit out of the territory while their mother slept. It was a fun adventure filled with cool new smells and amazing sights and so many sounds. It was so cool!

That was, until they heard barking. The kits ran but their legs were still short and stubby. They sprang up a tree, climbing easily thanks to their sharp kitten-claws. But Kitekit had bravely helped each of his littermates up the bark before he joined, but by then it was too late, and his siblings watched in horror as the dog snatched him up in a single bite, silencing his wail.

The kits would stay stuck in the tree, shivering and crying, until they were found by a patrol and returned to camp.

It was hard for them to process the trauma when they were still too young to fully process it. They knew that Kitekit was dead, they knew what that meant, and they had seen it themselves--but having to see it while they still had kitten fluff in their ears?

But they held onto each other--and their mother--and as the moons passed, the nightmares slowly seized.

Then came the second tragedy.

Like Kitekit, it had come suddenly. Lizardpaw was here one day, gone the next, thanks to a storm that broke while he was out on patrol.

It was harder now to accept that there were even less of them. The only upside with Kitekit's early demise was that, though they loved him dearly, they didn't share a lot of memories with him that would make his loss harder.

The same couldn't be said with Lizardpaw. There would be no more training together, no more sharing prey, no more waking each other up at night to look at the stars. No more anything.

But they still had each other, and that's what they leaned on.

The third tragedy was their mother, killed in battle. Only a moon after came the fourth when Brightshimmer succumbed to an infection.

Only Antlerrose and Palesplash were left. Like every sorrow before, they held onto each other. But this time there was only one cat to hold on to, and Palesplash just held on so tightly.

Antlerrose loved her sister, and the thought of losing her too was agony. But she needed time alone, she needed space, room to breathe, to think, to be.

Even when the grief lessened, Palesplash clung onto her like a bur. It wasn't that Antlerrose didn't understand why. They only had each other left, of course her sister was terrified of losing her too.

But it was just so suffocating.

Antlerrose couldn't go on a patrol or a simple walk without Palesplash insisting on being there too, and then she would spend the entire time looking around cautiously.

Anything that could even have the remote possibility of being a danger would cause Palesplash to spring into action.

Antlerrose is fighting a cat in battle? Palesplash pushes her out of the way so that she could handle it and protect her sister from getting a scratch.

A bird sings out of nowhere? Palesplash is tackling Antlerrose to the ground to save her from a swooping hawk.

Antlerrose sneezes or coughs? Palesplash is dragging her by the scruff to the medicine den and refuses to let her go until she is treated--whether or not the medicine cat tells her everything is okay.

Palesplash treated her like she was no stronger than a delicate feather able to be blown away with a kit's breath.

It was frustrating. Angering.

So Antlerrose woke extra early, hoping to go on just one hunt without her sister there. But she only made it to the top of the ravine before Palesplash was calling her name, and hurried toward her.

Antlerrose couldn't take it, she snapped at Palesplash to leave her alone, and distraught and hurt, her sister snapped back. Both were mad. Both were hurt.

Palesplash cried that she only want to make sure that Antlerrose is safe.

Antlerrose cried that she didn't need her to protect her from a cough or a little scratch. Moons of frustration built up and Antlerrose pushed her.

She regretted it instantly. Palesplash lost her footing and tumbled down the ravine. Antlerrose hurried after her, but then Palesplash hit her head on a rock with a sickening crack and Antlerrose froze.

Her sister.

The only littermate she had left, the only family. Dead.

Because of her.

The piece and quiet that Antlerrose had craved for so long had become a burden.

She couldn't eat without missing the sound of her sister's chattering next to her.

She couldn't sneeze or cough without missing Palesplash's fretting.

She couldn't...she couldn't do anything.

She was so alone.

When another battle came, Antlerrose let out all her grief and rage on the warriors she fought. Because of that, they fought harder against her, pushing her closer to the edge of the rocks until she lost her footing and fell into the water below.

Additional Information: 

--If it wasn't clear, the fight was with RiverClan and the rocks were Sunningrocks.

--Her father is from ShadowClan, and she is Half-Clan

[svt-chanel]

hiii!! sorry for the random ask (and you could totally private reply to this too), i found your blog from a friend, and i noticed that the fc of chanel is mina (lover her btw), but you listed her nationality as australian-korean-vietnamese. No hate or anything, but since mina is japanese and not of korean blood, and while you also listed her as chan's half sister (which chan is full korean ethnicity wise and korean-aussie nationality wise), it comes off as a little weird. Having her as hanni's (who is 100% viet ethnicity wise and aus-viet nationality) half sister also comes off as a little confusing too. This is kind of like ethnobending, so I just wanted to let you know. You can totally keep her fc as mina, but it would be nice to change up the nationality or to not have her as chan's half sister and hanni's half sister. I hope this doesn't come off as rude or hate, I just want to help a fellow addition out!! I do love the little antics and posts you make about chanel, but I wanted to bring this up. Hope this finds you well <3 If you have any other questions feel free to shoot me a dm and I can clarify/explain more if needed!

hihi!! I decided to private reply to this but I'll unprivate it if anyone else will need clarification about this! Yes I understand that Mina is Japanese but I made Chanel Viet-Aussie-Kor. I did do this intentionally because I

Couldnt find any viet idols that were older (like older than hanni or were popular)

I wanted something unique!

Chanel is a very unique character with her personality and her family! At first she was only gonna be Viet-Aussie but I kept on changing Chanel wether it was from her fc to her nationality/ethnicity. I made her Korean even though mina has no Korean blood because Chan however does have Korean blood and was also born there but raised in Australia. Idk if I've said this one her profile or anywhere else before but she's Korean because she has Korean blood and was born there (the Korean blood comes from her/chan's mother) and the thing is her backstory is rhat her mother and father met in Korea (before her + chan's birth) in high-school and even had a relationship with each other until in college they broke up cuz she cheated on him with Jack (Chan's father). Years later during 1997 Jessica (Chan's/Chanel's mother) is already pregnant with Chan (and she doesn't know) but Jessica and Her Father meet again in Korea while he was on vacation there and then they...yk (I heard u can actually get pregnant with twins by different fathers if u have...yk while ur pregnant) and then after that Chan + Chanel were born and yeah! And then ofc later Hanni was born by her mother bur Chanel's father which makes all 3 of them Half siblings.

I chose Mina as her fc because at first I didn't know what I wanted for Chanel and didn't plan anything out for her yet at the time but I saw Mina and was like "She's an underrated faceclaim plus she's pretty and gives off a elegant vibe." (The vibe I kinda wanted Chanel to give off at the time) I knew Mina is Japanese but just ignored it at the time and hoped nobody gave me problems with it!! (Whoch btw u haven't its just a question!) And I knew this question would come some day but didn't expect it to come this quickly. But yeah! I'll probably either change her fc (sigh again) or change her nationality cuz I PERSONALLY think the Hanni, Chan, and Chanel as half-siblings is really cool or ill just have one of them as her full sibling (which will most likely be chan). Or I'll just save it for a different oc or just delete her entirely and make a different Svt addition.

But either way I really appreciate that you like the antics of Chanel that I post about! (More ade coming from the drafts soon!!) And ofcourse I will and maybe in the future we can become friends!

-xx love Akuma/Woo

[morinassociates678]

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[moneyallthetime]

Easy Side Jobs Online

I'm going to kick things off by breaking down exactly what an online side job entails. You're going to find out about the bustling world of the gig economy, where skills and time become commodities that you can offer on a global market—all from your living room. This isn't just about making some extra cash; it's also about flexibility and taking control of your earning potential. Whether you're a student needing flexible work hours, a stay-at-home parent looking to contribute to household income, or someone who just wants to monetize a hobby, there's something out there for you. I'm here to help you understand that online side hustles can fit into various lifestyles and schedules. Beyond the obvious financial benefits, these jobs can offer personal growth, skill development, and the freedom to pursue work that actually interests you. In my opinion, it's necessary to set realistic expectations from the get-go. Not every online side gig is going to buy you a yacht, but with diligence, some can significantly pad your wallet. Choosing something that resonates with you is key—as is the understanding that you can always adjust your approach down the road. There's a lot of opportunity in online side jobs, and that's the strategy I like to leverage. Your first attempt doesn't need to be your last. Just don't focus too much on perfection. Instead, prioritize progress and learning as you explore the diverse options available. Top Online Side Jobs You Can Start Today You're going to find out about some of the hottest online side jobs available that you can start right now. These options are great because they cater to a range of skills and interests, and most importantly, they fit into your existing schedule. Freelance writing is a fantastic way to put your writing prowess to use. Whether it's for blogs, digital marketing, or content creation for companies, your words could earn you a pretty penny. All you need is a strong command of language and the ability to express ideas compellingly. Graphic design gigs are all the rage, with companies constantly seeking talented artists to create logos, marketing materials, and website designs. If you have a knack for design and an eye for visuals, your services could be in high demand. Ever considered being a virtual assistant? Managing emails, schedules, and various administrative tasks for businesses could be your next move. It's perfect for those who are organized, tech-savvy, and have excellent communication skills. For those who excel in specific subjects or skills, online tutoring might be your calling. With remote learning on the rise, you can share your knowledge and help others academically from the comfort of your home. Remote customer service positions are essential for companies that sell products or services online. If you're a problem-solver with a calming presence, this could be an ideal fit for you. Crafty individuals can make a good income selling handcrafted items on platforms like Etsy. If you make jewelry, art, or any unique creations, putting your work online can turn your hobby into a profitable venture. Remember, the common thread tying all these side jobs together is the platforms that host them. Websites like Upwork, Fiverr, and Etsy not only connect you with potential clients but also provide a level of security for both parties in the transaction. Maximizing Success with Online Side Jobs: Strategies and Best Practices If you want to really get the most out of your online side job, it's crucial to create a strong personal brand and online presence. This doesn't just showcase your skills but also builds trust with potential clients. Think about a clean, professional social media profile or a simple website with your portfolio. You can always adjust your approach down the road, but setting clear boundaries from the start is essential for balancing your side hustle with your main job or other personal commitments. A structured schedule helps prevent burnout and keeps your productivity high. Effective time management is your best friend when juggling multiple commitments. Tools like digital planners or time-tracking software can help keep you on track. Remember, it's not just about working hard but working smart. Don't overlook the power of virtual networking to propel your side job forward. Online communities, forums, and social media can be fertile ground for building professional relationships that could lead to more opportunities. I'm a firm believer in lifelong learning, especially in the fast-paced online world. Regularly enhancing your skills keeps you relevant and competitive. Online courses, webinars, and even YouTube tutorials can be great resources. Finally, choose something that resonates with you. Your online side job should be something you're passionate about because that passion will reflect in the quality of your work and the service you provide to customers. Read the full article

[hellaciousdecimation]

Reblog with one muse per reblog for Khivol to give his enlightened judgement unto them. Judge backs are welcome! 

[goldengoddess]

hi! I don't know if your requests are open, but if they are, can i please request some Matthias fluff based on the injury trope?

stay alive for me - matthias helvar

pairing: matthias helvar x gender neutral reader

a/n: i was gonna make this short but it was low key kind of cute!!!!!! also i know in the books matthias has like a military buzz cut and i reject that so he actually has very fluffy curls :’)

warnings: angst at the start and then fluff, violence and bullet wound

out of all of the stupid things you’d done in your life, this was probably the most stupid.

everything the job had gone to shit very quickly. jesper had given his signal at the wrong time. wylan had detonated the bomb too early. they'd underestimated the number of stadwatch that would be on duty and nina had ran into some trouble.

and you and matthias, alone, had needed to run away from at least seven men raining bullets at the two of you.

so after everything was said and done and you’d all met at the meeting point, gloomy, defeated, and penniless, you really didn’t want to mention the bullet that had skimmed your side during the chase.

but about ten minutes into the walk back to the slat, it was apparent that the wound might have been a little more than just a nick.

your vision was black at the edges and the whole world felt like it was spinning. the group walked ahead of you, keeping with the quick pace that jesper alway set. matthias lagged behind, every now and then glancing in your direction.

you held your side as inconspicuously as possible and reassured a slightly worried matthias with a fake grin.  when he looked forward and everyone else was occupied in conversation, you slowly pulled your hand away from your side. the sight of the deep red blood on your hand made you lose your step. suddenly you were on your knees holding your side once again.

you must have let out a whine or cry of pain because matthias turned his body in your direction. you locked eyes with him, though you could barley see his horrified face through your tears and fading vision. you collapsed onto the floor as you heard the rest of the team running back to your direction.

you fought to keep your eyes open. but then matthias’ face hovered over yours. and even though you were bleeding out on the street of this filthy city, you couldn’t help but admire how beautiful he looked.

you winced as matthias pressed his hands to your side to apply pressure to the wound. you took your bloody free hand and placed it on his head of curls. after the ice court, you’d managed to convince him to grow it out enough that you could run your fingers through it. he leaned into your touch and let out a wet sob.

“you didn’t say anything” he angrily said to you.

you did your best to give him a reassuring smile, “didn’t want to worry your drüskelle. you’re high strung as it is.”

he shook his head in exasperation, “if you don’t die i’ll kill you for your stubbornness myself.”you registered matthias’ arms underneath your body, lifting you up. you could hear the rest of the crows shouting instructions, kaz sending inej off to find a healer, nina crying to jesper out of guilt that she couldn’t do anything anymore to save you.

but all that really mattered to you was the steady and soldier like walk of the boy holding you. you pressed your face into his chest, “my blood is going to ruin your clothes.”

he let out what sounded like a small laugh, “don’t worry about my clothes my love. just stay awake will you?”

you nodded your head but you could already feel the energy draining from your body. “ ’m sorry i didn’t tell you i was hurt” you mumbled softly.

“i should have noticed” he answered gruffly, speeding up his pace at the groggy sound of your voice.

“you always blame yourself for everything matthias. don’t blame yourself for this, not my death” you said. the words coming of your mouth were delusional, you didn’t have much control or awareness.

but matthias’ response came clear as day, like a tether to reality and life.

“you are not dying today.”

the rest of the night went by in a blur. the last thing you remember was nina’s shouting commands, the sound of a door being kicked open, and the fleeting thought that it wouldn’t be so bad to die in matthias’ arms.

and then, sunlight.

the kind of light that was golden and pink at the same time. the filled an entire room. it was your favorite time of day, and in ketterdam it was rarely as beautiful as today.

you looked around the room and found you were laying in your bed at the slat. bloody towels were laid out across the floor. when you tried to move, your side felt sore. but it was obviously healed as well as it possibly could be.

at your movement, you heard a soft groan of protest from next to you. you gasped when you turned your head and found a sleeping body next to you. only then did you realize you were laying on the chest of said body and their arm was placed protectively around you.

you relaxed when you saw the familiar profile of your favorite person in the world. you snuggled back into this chest and placed a soft kiss on it.

this stirred him awake and you felt him shift underneath you. “love?” he asked in the softest voice you’d ever heard him use.

you nodded your head against his chest, “yes, i’m awake.”

the sigh of absolute relief that left his mouth broke your heart in two. his grip on you tightened and he pulled you even closer, if that was possible. he didn’t say anything, just placed a gently kiss to your head.

you pushed away from him slightly so you could sit up and look at him. his blue eyes sent shock waves through your body, the way they always did. but you didn’t fail to notice how they were less vibrant than usual, how his bags were much darker than the last time you’d really looked at him.

“i am so sorry i made you worry, i’m sorry i didn’t tell you” you told him shakily, a lump forming in your throat.

he quickly grabbed your face with both of his hands and leaned his forehead against yours. “hey hey, my love. it is okay. you are okay. that is all that matters to me now.”

you closed your eyes and placed your hands on your shoulders for support.

“but next time,” he started, “maybe you could tell me when you’re bleeding out?”

you giggled and disconnected your head from him, you nodded and bur your lip in embarrassment. “trust me, i will not be making this mistake again.”

he smiled a little bit and traced your cheekbone with his thumb. “you’re not allowed to die on my just yet.”

“just yet?” you teased playfully, leaning into his touch the way he had leaned into yours only a few hours before.

he shook his head and grinned fondly, “no not yet. you still owe me a lot of close calls, i’ve saved your life a couple of times i think you have to live to pay that back.”

you let out a scoff but mirrored his silly grin, “oh shut it. you know i’ve saved your life just as many times drüskelle.”

he smiled but his face turned more serious. “you owe me a life time of happiness, my love. you do not get to die and leave me alone when we are supposed to grow old together. be buried in the snow together.”

you placed your hand on top of his and squeezed to let him know you were here. that you were listening, breathing.

he smiled, “so if you could stop making stupid mistakes and let me help you, i’d really appreciate it.”

you laughed and placed a quick kiss on his lips, “anything for you my life. anything for you.”

taglist;

@vintagebitc @obiwansjedi @thegirlwiththeimpala @hybrid-in-progress @mrs-brekker15 @mrsbrekkers @simplyluvzuko @ode-to-joy @gallysonegoodlung @sixofshadowandbone @castielcouldbeasecretdentist @meiitanoia @caaarstairs @itisroe @the-jess-life @xsamsharons

low key forgot i had a taglist for a second sorry friends!

[noramoya]

“Wade Robson... you should be ashamed of yourself!!! You and your family befriended the biggest star in the world. I personally recall your mom Joy calling MJJ Music with a sob story about needing money knowing that Michael Jackson loved her and your entire family and would do anything to help her. Michael especially loved you like a son, because you dreamed of being a dancer as your mother took you around Australia impersonating who ?! MICHAEL JACKSON !!

Your family moved to the United States leaving your father behind and Michael gave you a record deal as part of a rap duo named QUO ! It FAILED !!! Michael set you up with his niece Brandi and you guys were together for several years... until you CHEATED on her with other woman, several times.... she finally left you ! Bu you still remained in the Jackson’s Circle... Why ? Because it opened doors for you, being associated with Michael Jackson and his family.

That association with Michael Jackson afforded you the opportunity to befriend such artist as Justin Timberlake and Brittany Spears... And what did you do ?! You started working with Justin, as a Choreographer and, then, slept with his girlfriend Brittany Spears and was FIRED ! Justin then wrote a song about it called "Cry Me A River". And yet you still call Justin your FRIEND !!!

You used your association with Michael Jackson to befriend PRINCE and Mayte… And what did you do ?! You slept with HER !! Such a friend you are !! You use your association with Michael Jackson to get yourself a gig on a television dance show... Word gets out about your previous disregard and disloyalty toward high profile celebrities... And what happens ?! You get CUT from that show.

SUDDENLY there's a Michael Jackson’s VEGAS SHOW in the works and you BEG to the Estate to be the choreographer for the show... Bur another Choreographer is chosen ! Why ? Because you were regarded as NOT QUALIFIED ! What do you do now that your web of lies are catching up with you and you are a Hollywood damaged goods ?! You turn on the ONE MAN who looked out for you and your family, during your ENTIRE life, and started making up a story of child abuse/molestation/allegations, when you have before, EMPHATICALLY stated, for many, many years, that it NEVER HAPPENED !!

Fast forward to later... Michael Jackson is sadly NO LONGER with us. You then begged Michael’s nephew,Taj Jackson, for VIP access to Michael Jackson’s funeral for you and your entire family ! Yet, you claim this monster molested you... SICK !!! You are now considered a home wrecking, disloyal individual and is essentially black-balled from Hollywood. What do you do? Because you know the world knows you are associated with Michael Jackson, you use that association - once again - to change your LIFE FINANCIAL STORY, now claiming that Michael Jackson molested you. Why ?!!! Because you are BROKE and your wife is asking divorce if you do not start making money !

Right after, you convinced another broke ex-friend of Michael (Pepsi commercial) to join you in a frivolous lawsuit against Michael Jackson’s Estate for 100's of Millions of dollars, on fake accusations ! But the Court agree that there is NO MERIT to this lawsuit and DISMISSED IT !! The Jackson Family never fight back, when people say disparaging things about their family’s members... Mrs. Jackson once told me, when I questioned her about this… She replied "because DIRT sinks and CREAM rises" !

Wade, you knows this to be true, as well... So what does you do ? You and James Safechuck concocted a story so Salacious, so Scandalous, so Despicable, and presents it to HBO for a one sided EXPLOSIVE televised documentary of LIES ! In hopes that the Michael Jackson’s BILLION DOLLAR ESTATE will settle financially with you, to make this documentary go away… Well that documentary of LIES will air this weekend, because MJ’s Estate DID NOT accept the blackmail... And unlike the Jackson's past generation, this New Generation of Jackson’s kids are not having it !! They are suing HBO for airing your lying ass !!

I hope when this is all said and done, the Estate counter-sues you two in Civil Court and WIN! I hope it renders you penniless for the rest of your life ! Michael Jackson was Good to you, to your mother Joy, and to your sister Chantel... And because your gravy train has run out, THIS is how you repay him ! You are a sad excuse for a human being !!! Sorry for this long post … But knowing what i know, I just couldn't be silent.

For any of you who thought Michael Jackson was strange... I get it... Because there is no one else on Earth to compare him !! Yes, there are other children stars who grew up to "blend in" to society...and I get it... But when you are Michael Jackson and the only thing on Earth that is more recognizable than you is the yellow "M" at McDonalds, that in itself is "Strange!" Anyways.... I say... BOYCOTT THE MOCKUMENTARY ! And if you MUST watch it, know that you now know the basis of the scandalous lies contained within the documentary !

PLEASE … Let the Man REST IN PEACE!!! — CLYDE JENKINS, March 1st 2019.

@veadai @carmela1603462 @annievvv77 @annievvv7 @swift-fated @mjslays @mj-confessions @mjstevent @mjvideos @mj-fans-alliance-blog @mjjsecretlovers-blog @mjjproductionz @mjjsourcesblog @mjjofficial @mjjalways @7-starboi @jacksonfamilypix @jackson-royalty-blog @jackson8520yuleidy @jacksongalart @jacksonprince @michael-jackson-blog @michaeljacksonfamily @michaeljacksonlooks @michaeljacksonslegend @michael-jackson-is-invincib-blog #FYP @bp2003gaming @greatgoshesoffire @caffeinated-chaos-bean @spongebobafettywap @just-mumu @notravian @

[prophetrick]

Death’s Hounding Us (w/from-across-the-stars)

( @from-across-the-stars ) Having a successful business meant cultivating positive relationships. The rising tide raises all ships, so Yasuhiro heard. That knowledge he took to heart, and he made a point to do so with as many businesses between his shop, Hope’s Peak, and his home. Yasuhiro made a map of his points of interest, and rotated between an occasional visit between them. A bakery here, printing shop there, it didn’t matter. The same was said for the White Blossom Pet Hospital. Yasuhiro had to pass it no matter if he took the train or drove to work after school, so he thought it best to acquaint himself to the staff, much to their annoyance. The graveyard attached to the hospital, grim as it was for some passing by, didn't bother Yasuhiro too much. This side of Tokyo fell on a ley line, one he could tap into if he needed. The predecessor of the pet hospital seemed to pick up on this, as Buddhist sutras and offerings could be found throughout both areas. In spite any work the monks, staff or visiting families did, there were the stragglers who remained well past their burial on occasion.

Some followed their owners or went into the afterlife when shrine attendants came by to purify and cleanse as they were called in. It wasn't often that Yasuhiro encountered them on his way to work, but when he did, he couldn't help himself; he'd play with them if they ventured near his shop or when he could slip away from the public eye. These ghosts weren't harming anyone, any so he'd never think to bother them. More often than not, the pets chose to leave. And the ones that stayed? They still wandered about here and there, wandering and being restless, but they were content to watch everyone else go about their lives and to wander through the streets as they pleased. If they had a purpose beyond death, who was he to dissuade them? He'd leave offerings for them should they visit him, and when he had the time, he'd record his findings in a journal while swaying about lazily on his bench swing. He understood that some ghosts would become unruly after a time, forgetting themselves and their purpose for lingering. Here, though, that wasn't entirely the case; the tranquility on this side of Tokyo tended to pacify them. Some of them had been a fixture well before Yasuhiro had set up shop, like the little Maltese warden who'd patrol the surroundings. A good boy, this Maltese. It seemed he was smart enough to remember the collar that proudly hung around his neck, as Yasuhiro could see his name on the little dog bone: Chuck. Chuck was easygoing and approachable, and carried an uncanny sagely look for a dog. Chuck probably looked like that before he met his fate. Yasuhiro considered him a good omen when he popped up. Recently, his part of Tokyo had been blanketed in a layer of silence. Not from the bustling crowd of people, oh no, this tourist side never seemed to sleep. The hospital and graveyard carried an uneasiness that spilled into the streets. Some people had picked up on this, Yasuhiro included. They hadn't really said anything about it yet though, but he could pick up when there were people who knew something was off. This quiet was ominous, not at all like their usual city. They seemed to be ignoring it, except him. He just didn’t know what to do with it and he had no clues to latch onto. Chuck hadn't been seen in a while either, which he found troublesome. Hope's Peak attendance wasn't compulsory for him, but he felt inclined to maintain some normalcy. He didn't need to announce a day off, so Yasuhiro had decided that he'd put his nose to the ground and see what he could scare up. The next three days had been set aside for his investigation, and he'd done well enough to keep a low profile. Or so he thought. As Yasuhiro began making his way out of his classroom, the unsettling feeling of eyes burring a hole into his head made his body stiffen up. His head turned with his own wary eyes scanning the corner ahead of him.

[impala-dreamer]

All Our Sins

SPN FanFic

~It has been a long time since your last confession, but you were pretty sure it wasn't supposed to go like this...~

Priest!Dean x Reader, Sam

1,700 Words

Warnings; NSFW. EXTREME BLASPHEMY. Priest!Kink. Dirty Talk. Spanking. Hardcore fuckin'. In a confessional booth.

A/N: For my darling @assbuttaf​, who asked for this like a year ago... Hope you all enjoy...

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The candlelight died away instantly as you closed the tiny door of the confessional booth. It had been years since you'd even stepped foot in a church, let alone attempted confession, but there you were, about to sink to your knees.

Afraid to look through the screen, you bowed your head and knelt down, ready to try this whole praying thing.

"In nomine Patris et Filii, Spiritus Sancti. Amen." The priest spoke slowly, his voice like caramel through the grate; deep and rich.

Your lip shook. "Bless me, Father for I have sinned."

"Go on…"

It was hard to speak; your voice shaking, chin steadied by clasped hands. "It's been...well, hell, I can't remember how long since I did this last.

"That's fine, my dear, go on. What do you need to confess?"

"I guess… a lot," you admitted with a sarcastic laugh. "I mean, I curse constantly. I've been in fights, I've killed. Not- humans, but…things."

The priest nodded, his crisp profile distorted by the mesh. "That's...not great."  A slick chuckle made your heart skip.

"I've saved people too, Father," you went on, explaining away the sin of murder. "Lots of people."

"I'm sure you have."

There was a pause, a long moment of silence inside the booth. You could hear his breathing, slow and steady; he was waiting for you to speak, to tell him everything. You lifted your eyes to the screen and caught a glimpse of tanned skin and plump, pink lips. Quickly, you dragged your eyes away. He was a priest, not something to be ogled.

“Is that all?” he asked, breaking the silence and halting the sinful throbbing betwixt your thighs.

Startled, you sucked in a short breath. “What?”

“Is that all you wish to confess?” He spoke slowly, deliberately drawing out each letter; the F pulling his bottom lip tight between his teeth. You couldn’t help but watch through the grate; tiny crosses giving you a stunted view of his tongue as it pressed against perfect teeth. “If we are to be forgiven, we must confess all of our sins…”

“N-no,” you stammered, feeling yourself weaken with each word he spoke. “There’s...more.”

“So… go on.”

You took a breath and closed your eyes, gathering the strength you needed to continue. “Well, Father, I...I’ve had impure thoughts.” The words were stuck on your tongue, your mouth drying as your pussy dripped, arousal taking over. “About my friend,” you went on. “My...partner- work, partner. My friend. He’s...so, so beautiful.” The padded bench beneath your knees was doing little to keep you up; the thought of him making your blood sing. “I’ve been very... lustful, Father.”

The priest sat forward, leaning closer to the screen. “How so?”

“I touch myself thinking about him. I can’t help it. I dream about his hands on me; about his big cock inside of me.” The confession sprang free and you went with it, telling your deepest secret to the shadow in the booth next to you. “I cum all the time thinking about sucking his cock; him fucking my face so hard that I can’t think straight. I- I need him.”  

“Is that so?” His voice was darker, his breath heavier. “Go on.”

“Sometimes during the day, I sneak away to go to the bathroom and fuck my slutty pussy while I think about him.” It was so easy now that the seal had been broken, and your lips refused to yield. “I stole his undershirt a while ago and I keep it under my pillow back home and stick my face in it while I ride my dildo, smelling him while I squirt all over the place. God, he’s so sexy, I need him so fucking bad. Need him to wreck my drippy cunt and fill me up. Need his cock so bad. So bad.”

He swallowed hard. “You have been sinful, girl.” His tone was rough, condemning. “I don’t know that this kind of behavior can be forgiven. Are you penitent?”

You could feel hot wet you were; the thin panties beneath your pencil shirt were soaked. “What?”

“Do you regret your actions?”

A smile pulled at your mouth. “No, Father. I do not.”

The priest sucked his teeth in disappointment. “You will be punished for this,” he said firmly.

Your heart was racing. “Yes, Father, I know.”

Without another word, he reached over and slammed the partition shut, blocking him from your view. The room grew dark and you held your breath, listening as he moved in the compartment next to you. His door opened and slammed shut.

You hissed as bright light flooded your sight and you squinted to see a tall, dark silhouette framed by holy light.

The priest stepped into your side of the booth and shut the door behind him.  

You turned, confused. “Father?”

The priest opened his belt in the dark. “It’s time for your penance, girl.”

A big hand reached out and took hold of your hair, pulling you roughly to your feet. You gasped and bit your tongue, trying not to scream in the House of the Lord. He lifted you up and pressed himself against you, pushing you back into the hard wooden wall. He dropped his lips towards yours but did not leave a kiss, forcing you to imagine what he would taste like, what his mouth would feel like. His lips hovered over your mouth and across your jaw, dropping down to linger by your ear, breathing you in.

“You’re just full of sin, aren’t you?” The hand in your hair tightened and he licked at your throat.

“Yes, Father,” you grit, riding another wave of arousal. It dripped from your cunt; your musk filling the small space.  

“We’ll have to fuck it out of you,” he whispered, rocking his hips against you.

“W-what?” Your heart stopped as he spun you around; the fingers in your hair falling to grab your upper arm and shove. You tipped over, hands catching on the seat at the back of the booth; wood slamming hard against your palms. “Fuck!”

Hot hands ripped your skirt up and tore your panties down, letting them fall, pointless around your calves. He slid a thick finger between your thighs, reaching down to feel your leaking pussy.

“All this...sin,” he growled, shoving his finger deep inside of you. “So shameful.”

“Shameful, yes,” you whimpered, rocking back onto his hand, trying to get him to move.

He pulled his hand away and you cried pathetically, arching your back to press your ass against him. You were stopped by his hand as it cracked against your plump cheek.

“Needy,” he condemned, slapping again. “Filthy…” Another slap, fingers splayed. “Lustful…”

Your body was throbbing, inside and out, from the deepest reaches to the surface of your skin. “Please.”

The final slap was delivered and you clenched your teeth as the hand moved away. You could hear the rustle of fabric as he dropped his pants, pulling the clerics away to deliver your true punishment.  

“Please, Father,” you begged, aching to be filled.

His hands returned, gripping your hips tightly as he pulled you back; the tip of his cock nudging against your heat.

“Please!”

“Slut.” He drove his cock hard into you, burning your flesh with his heat and the quick stretch of his hefty size.

“Fuck!”

His thrusts drove you wild, setting the pace for your heart as he tried to fuck the sin from your bones. You could barely stand, legs shaking as he slammed into you again and again. He was quiet, moaning through a clenched jaw as he worked; hands bruising your flesh, thighs leaving red marks where they struck your legs.

As his breathing quickened, his rhythm changed, picking up tempo as he neared the end. He reached forward with one hand and pressed his fingers to your clit, rubbing hard, forcing you to cum on his throbbing cock, helping him to let go. You milked him dry, cunt pulsing around him, and he stilled against your ass, breathing deeply, satisfied, tired.

He backed away and you could feel his cum drip from your pussy, leaking hot and steady down your inner thigh. He ripped at your panties, tearing the delicate sides apart, and wiped at your used cunt, cleaning up his mess. You turned then and sat, back aching, muscles quaking. He tossed the panties into your lap and laughed.

“Go forth, my child,” he said, voice dark and cracked, “and sin no more.”

He left you there in the dark, slamming the door closed behind him as he stepped out into the candlelight, black suit and shining shoes all you could see of him.

It took a moment for you to catch your breath, but when you did, you shoved the ruined panties into your purse and followed him, leaving the humid booth behind.

Dean was standing outside the door, frozen like a deer in headlights. You peeked around him to see Sam not far away, his face masked with annoyance and disbelief.

“Did you two actually just fuck in there?” he asked, flashlight beam hitting the confessional booth behind you.

Dean smirked and gave him a little shrug. “May-maybe?”

You slapped his arm. “Dude.”

Sam’s eyes rolled mightily. “For fuck’s sake, guys. We’re on a case. This place is haunted and you’re...you’re… what the hell are you even doing?”

Dean was at a loss, so you stepped in. “Role playing?” you offered, but it did little more than trigger Sam’s gag reflex.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Hey!” Dean snapped, wagging a finger at him. “Watch your mouth, son. We’re in God’s House. Show some respect.”

Sam gasped, offended. “Me? You just-”

“Eh!” Dean held up a hand, halting Sam’s argument. “We’re on a case, Sam. For fuck’s sake, let’s stop this fooling around and get to work.”

With a wink your way, Father Dean headed off into the sacristy, on the hunt for a murderous spirit’s tether.

“You two are going to hell,” Sam muttered as he sighed and moved to follow.

You smiled and watched Dean’s pretty ass as he disappeared into the next room. “Yeah,” you agreed. “But worth it.”

2020 Forever Tags:

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[subarubi]

Somethin’

Pairing: Sam Wilson x fem!Reader

Summary: Sam Wilson’s in for the ride of his life. (Idk I suck at summaries)

Word Count: 3.2k

Tags/Warnings: 18+ Sexual content. Modern AU. Cowboy!Sam. Slight Angst? Idk. Alcohol consumption. Inappropriate use of stable floor. 

A/N: Something about the leaves changing is putting me in the mood for some Sam Wilson lovin’. ma’ams, sirs, non-binaries, I present to you, COWBOY SAM. This is purely born out of thirst, the barely there plot is just a vehicle for it. Yee-motherfuckin’-haw!  

-

Clear blue skies and soft, white cumulus clouds look just the same above him here as they did there. 

It had been the first thing he noticed on that long, quiet car ride home from the airport and the last thought before settling into the checkered sheets of his adolescence. Night, day, clear or grey — it’s the same sky he’s been under his entire life, same backdrop to his last few years at war. 

One certain days, he feels blind as a newborn, clutching to his momma’s chest as she quiets his cries. Others, he swears he can see thousands of miles away if only he just squints hard enough. 

Today, there’s sweat stinging in his eyes, so he only sees wide pastures through a blurred filter. 

Sam Wilson holds his father’s hat in one hand, uses a forearm glowing bronze beneath the sun to wipe away the dampness over his brow. He’s known heat, spent hours baking under the hot sun in full fatigues. This is a different kind of heat — the lazy, sleepy kind that starts in his neck and spreads warm everywhere. It pools in unwelcome places: behind his knees, down his shoulder blades, in his ass crack. 

“What’s the matter, cowboy? Can’t take the heat?”

"M’fine,” he scoffs indignantly, kneading a thick thigh splayed out over worn leather, soothing his sore muscles. Despite his objections otherwise, Sam’s dog-tired and aching for a cold shower. He wants to fall face first into the couch and stay there for, forever, maybe. 

Your smirk burns him up from the inside out with irritation and a whole other barrel of emotions he doesn’t want to get into when you’re being this annoying.  “If you need a break, I won’t tell anyone...”

Sam pants a laugh, settling the cattleman hat back over his head, squint in his warm brown eyes easing in the brim’s shadow. Shaking his head, he replies “I don’t believe that for one second.”

He’s heard that most people settle a bit after they reach their mid-20s. People have jobs and responsibilities and have less room to be obnoxious and wild. You haven’t changed one bit since high school. You’re just as loud mouthed and unpleasant as you were all those years ago before Sam left to enlist. You used to laugh and throw mud in his face when he worked on your daddy’s ranch as a kid, put burs in his boots and made fun of his gangly arms. Not much has changed on that front now that he’s back — he’s kind of glad for it, so used to people in this little town treating him differently now.

Sam licks salt from his lip, watching you in front of him, horse in a jog. 

The steady rocking of your hips side to side holds his gaze, matching your pace but hanging back enough that conversation is sparse. Sam eyes the way denim hugs your legs, tapers off into a pair of worn brown boots with stitched designs fraying. He remembers when you’d first gotten those boots, how you danced in them before him. He’d always had a sneaking suspicion you liked him back then; he was older and worked for your daddy, your teasing always felt like just an excuse to talk to him. 

You’re a woman now. An honest to god woman with pretty eyes and a dangerous smile — all stuffed into tight jeans and a chambray shirt with the top buttons undone in such a way that he can the path of sweat down your neck and into your cleavage. Sam visibly swallows.

“What’s it like?” your sweet twang tickles the inside of his ears, a shiver run down his spine. 

Sam shifts in his saddle, leaning up on the horn to give his sleeping ass a break, “What’s what like?”

Silence for a beat, what little he can see of your profile twists in uncertainty. You slow up so that your horse falls in step beside his, shrugging to appear more casual, though it’s more comfort for you than him. “I mean... the Air Force, Afghanistan. That whole thing.”

Oh, that whole thing. Sam stiffens, reins creaking in tight fists as he struggle with such a small, harmless question. 

In the hours you’ve spent together since he’s been back, the subject of where he went and why he’s back remained fairly untouched. Sam didn’t want to talk about it and you don’t like awkward, feelings conversations in general. He’d liked the balance the two of you had struck up. Considered you a good friend, even, for it. 

“You don’t have to say anything! Just forget I said anything,” you rush out. 

Sam can tell by the way you frantically avoid looking at him that an ashamed heat is crawling up your neck and pooling in your face. He sighs heavily, shoulders sagging and looks out over the herd of cattle moving pastures.

He’s dog-tired. 

After Riley died, he just couldn’t find reason anymore — his momma said it was giving her smiley boy premature frown lines. Getting out was supposed to be a good thing for him, but he’s just so tired of waiting for the results. He’d expected coming home and working on the ranch would be like flipping a switch; he’d be happy again and wouldn’t have to think about his time in the war. For the most part, he has been. But some days he doesn’t know whether it’s better to be blind or to see thousands of miles away.

Then there are days like today: the in between where everything is blurry and he wants to talk about it, but doesn’t know where to begin. 

“It’s hot as hell.”

The bewildered look on your face makes him smile small. His lips twitch and it sends yours chasing off after them, cracking big and wide. He wishes his momma could see him now, with that gap-toothed grin she says she misses so much. What it is, he doesn’t know, but something about you makes him so comfortable. 

If you wanted to, you couldn’t get Sam to stop talking after that. 

He tells stories of COs with sticks up their asses and hillbillies he never thought he’d have to protect and never wants to again, of all the shit Riley put him through and what passes for food on military bases. And by the time the sun sets and the cows are grazing on fresh, untouched grass, the ache in Sam’s hips and legs can’t compare to the one in his cheeks. 

“He sounds like an amazing friend,” you smile softly, boot kicked up on the farriers stool outside the barn.

Sam smiles wistfully into the neck of his beer bottle, nodding firmly, “The best.”

The sweat on his shirt has dried under a cool night breeze, Sam’s eyes slide closed to savor the feeling of it. It’s peaceful and quiet in the best way, a warm beer in hand, crickets chirping and a somewhere frog croaking. He can’t help but think this is as close as he’s gonna get to being happy again without Riley. 

A cacophonous clattering of the glass bottle graveyard the two of you cultivated breaks through it. You hiss loudly, muttering curses under your breath as you try and right the ones that fell over, “Shhh, dammit. Shit.”

Sam rolls his head to the side slowly with relaxed breaths, looking at you with a goofy smile. He places his bottle down in the dirt besides just about the dozen other empty ones, reaching out for you, “You’re a good friend too.”

You watch him with wide eyes, chewing your lip dark in that way that he never lets on drives him crazy. 

His eyes lazily drift over your face, down the smooth planes of your neck and over the panicked heave of your chest. There’s a summer haze over him, he feels all fuzzy and warm with alcohol swirling around in his gut, liver working overtime. He’s thinking things he probably shouldn’t, fingers itching to do things he definitely shouldn’t. 

You are a good friend, he means that. 

He’s been home for a few months now and can count on one hand the amount of people he actually likes spending time with. His momma and his little sister on Sundays after church making — or rather, for his part, eating— pies. Your father, who Sam’s always looked up to, listening to life lessons that he’s already learned but doesn’t have the heart to say so. He likes going to the bar with the other ranch hand Tommy well enough, but only for a few. 

You. All the time, even when he’s supposed to be doing something else or you’re annoying the hell out of him. 

Sam clears his throat, hoping that the starry-eyed look in his eyes is obscured by the darkness of night and the low brim of his hat. By the way you’re looking back at him, he highly doubts he’s gotten away with it. “I should get going, it’s late.”

“You-” you swallow, sitting up straight in your seat as he makes to get up, “you shouldn’t drive.”

Cracking bones have Sam grimacing as he stretches tall, working out all the kinks he’d gotten from a long day out riding, driving the cattle. He stumbles a little in his boots, kicking up a small bit of dirt with a tipsy laugh, “You’re right...”

He sees your tense shoulders sag in relief, settling further against the red barn wall. Sam grins mischievously, swaying towards the open barn doors, “I’ll ride.”

“Sam!” you call after him, and he hears the light pounding of your boots after him as he bolts into the stables. 

He’s never felt so fast, so light, running with you hot on his trail, boots sliding dangerously across the hay covered ground. Sam’s a kid again, unburdened by the hardships of war and the grief of losing his best friend. 

Once, when he was working here in high school with you constantly ribbing on him, Sam stole your hat — same one sitting on that pretty head now — and ran. You gave chase until your shorter legs tired out and ugly sobs of frustration poured from your lungs. He felt guilty, mean even and stopped as soon as those doe eyes looked up at him in hurt. There was a terrible smirk on your face he’ll never forget when you triumphantly snatched it out of his hands and kicked him in the shin, little brat you were. 

This is payback. 

Sam takes a hard left into one of the empty stalls, laughing wildly when you corner him, hands holding his sides in stitches. Smiling eyes betray the scowl on your face as you approach slowly, as if he were a jumpy young colt for you to tame. 

Something’s in the air, suffocating the closing space between the two of you and Sam’s pinned beneath the unreadable stare of your eyes dark with... somethin’. 

The heave of his chest is prominent under the loose fabric of his unbuttoned shirt, white undershirt stretching taut over its broadness. He sucks down big, audible breaths to steady himself, face slack. Sam rests his hands over the silver longhorn buckle of his belt, pinkies tracing over the rough grooves to distract him from this churning in his stomach. It could just be the alcohol. He’s not been oblivious to the all the lingering touches and heated gazes these past few months working close together, but it could just be the alcohol. 

In the back of his head, he can almost feel the phantom sting of his momma slapping him there, warning him that you don’t shit where you eat and he’d be stupid to do what his body is screaming for him to. 

You’re the annoying girl that sent him sprawling into a cow patty, trained the dogs to circle him in the field and nip at his heels. You’re his boss’ daughter and his friend, an important one at that. 

You’re... somethin’ and when he’s with you the sky is bluer and the clouds make these funny shapes with resemblances the two of you never agree on. 

“Okay, okay, you got me,” Sam holds his arms up in surrender, rolled up sleeves unravelling on his forearms. 

It doesn’t stop your approach like he’d hoped it would. The longer this goes on, and the closer you get — he can feel hot breaths fanning over his face now, raising goosebumps beneath his stubble — the weaker his resolve gets. 

You’re right in front of him, warm hands squeezing his shoulders and a glint in your eyes that means trouble. “Do I win a prize, cowboy?”

Sam’s knees buckle just the slightest and it’s your hands wandering down the taut muscles at his sides that keep him standing. When you call him that he feels all weird inside, like any nickname before that was wrong and any after wouldn’t even register for him. 

A sharp hiss leaves Sam’s lips, jolting as a cool few fingers experimentally drift beneath the hem of his shirt, smoothing over his hot skin. He says your name in warning, low and pleading. 

“Sam...” you whisper, knocking his hat off with the tipping brim of your own, a pleading look of your own burning straight through him and settling in the erratic beat of his chest. He struggles to focus on anything other than your fingers splayed out on his torso, thumbs fiddling with the waistband of his boxers peaking out above his jeans, nails scratching just light enough to leave his skin crawling. 

God, what did you say? He can’t remember, clenching fists to avoid reaching out and touching you, all warm against him. And why is he even fighting it? 

Hesitantly, Sam places a calloused hand on your waist, squeezing softly when your nose rubs against his. 

His mouth falls open stupidly, eyes tightly held shut because he’s afraid if he opens them you’ll disappear and he’ll be passed out on the floor at home. He doesn’t know how long he’s been watching after you like he had earlier that day — a while now — but his gaze always seems to find you, same as the few good dreams he has nowadays. 

“I want you.”

“Shit,” Sam grumbles, slapping a hand over the back of your neck and crushing your lips to his. 

The clunk of your hat hitting the stable floor is like the starting shot of a frantic race of tongue and teeth. Sam scrambles to grab handfuls of whatever he can, pulling you closer by the belt loops of your jeans. Your hands curl around his shoulders and push his shirt off, as he pulls you up to straddle him. Sam’s hands shoves themselves down the back of your jeans, stuck between scratchy denim and the soft flesh of your ass. 

Your legs gets tangled with his along the bag of his thighs, the two of you stumbling around for balance. It’s found, of course, in the hay.

Sam’s never felt so desperate, so starved for touch that even with you in his arms it’s not enough. He craves more, wants more of you all the time. He wants you as a coworker, a friend, a lover. 

Everything you have to offer, he’ll take. 

On his back and staring up at you with pathetic, lovesick eyes, Sam blindly tugs off his shirt, distracted by the smooth expanse of skin you reveal to him in your own undressing. He leans forward to press kisses against the cups of your bra, palming at the flesh of your torso and along the ridges of your back, eyes black with hungry want. 

Something whiny joins the harsh breathing that fills the quiet barn and it takes a second for Sam to realize that it had come from him. You slanted your hips over his, slowly rutting the rough fronts of your jeans against each other and Sam can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed by his soft moans. 

“You can’t help it, huh?” you murmur against his lips, rocking back and forth over his groin, “My Cowboy, always watching me with those pretty brown eyes.”

Sam chokes out a wrecked moan, desperately gripping your biceps as you create a burning friction between you, weight bearing down on his hard dick. You’re riding him for all he’s worth and christ, he thinks he might just die. 

“So soft for me, right? Even when I’m being mean...”

He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, your sweet tongue in his mouth maybe, but Sam has never been so utterly helpless. He doesn’t rightly know what to do with you, if there even is anything he can do. 

One particular roll of your hips has him quivering beneath you, reaching up to bring you down to his lips in a searing kiss. The grind has him seeing stars, crushing your shoulders in his hands as he fights back the rumbling burn in the base of his torso. Sam curses and you tut him, biting into his shoulder with a teasing smile, humming in appreciation as he stuffs his hands into the back pocket of your jeans and urges you on faster. 

Forward and back, a familiar rocking motion that he’s watched intently anytime the two of you ride out together, Sam’s a moaning mess. You drag your hot crotch against his again and again, he can hardly do anything but pant into your mouth as it presses little affectionate kisses.

“Please...” he begs.

You smile down at him, running your hands under his chin and pinching softly. He loves that smile, real soft and teasing, and just for him. Does whatever he can to draw that smile out. 

And then it’s a full out gallop, fast and hard down on his throbbing jean-covered cock and it’s too late before Sam realizes what’s about to happen. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” he struggles to stop you, hands futile in their attempts to halt your hips. You don’t stop and the knowing glint in your eyes tells him you know exactly what it is you’re doing. It’s building, burning in his gut, thick thighs tensed, chasing after it in acquiescence. 

Sam comes with a shout, painting the crotch of his jeans dark and wet with cum. He lays an arm over his eyes, practically hyperventilating as you ease him down with a few slow rolls over him. 

“I-” Sam doesn’t know what to say. Is there anything to say? He’s embarrassed and in awe of himself, of you. “I promise that’s never happened before.”

“You’re somethin’ Sam Wilson,” there’s a laugh in your voice, but Sam doesn’t feel like it’s at him and what he views as his failings. You pat his still heaving chest with a satisfied smile, the thumb of your other hand tapping lightly over his plump bottom lip. 

Sam grins, relieved that you’re still you. Understanding where it counts and a real fucking ball buster. Literally. 

“Not that I don’t love a good roll in the hay as much as the next guy... but, let’s do dinner before next time?” He’s a bit shy in his asking, focused on where his thumb traces the skin you your thigh still splayed out over his. 

You smile and nod, biting your lip and Sam’s a goner if it wasn’t already abundantly clear, “Gotta make it up to me somehow.”

Sam groans and throws you off of him, dipping you into a pile of hay he’s glad you disappear in. 

-

[yinses]

red velvet | gustave ‘doc’ kateb x reader

this wasn’t a request but im trash for doc and really any combat medic. its my sin and i refuse to repent for it. amen. some good ole mature content for my man. 

“it’s-it… still feels degrading.”

you held back a laugh, still finding humor in the absolute seriousness the combative physician took in such a casual display of sexual dominance. frankly, most of your concern had been geared towards him berating the unprofessionalism of your offer in a public setting . but you should have known the frenchman would be more attentive to the unequal power display. 

but in a way you needed this, craved the opportunity to lose sense of the world for once in your chaotic career. upon trading the cushion trauma position at an esteemed center in paris, you had in turn given up the freedom of careless actions. it was imperative to your very existence to always be on guard and conscientious of your environment. 

so yes, at the expense of your reverence, as gustave seemed more perturbed by than you, literally nothing would please you more than the simple act of resting comfortably under his desk for a few hours with your lips sealed firmly around his cock.

with effort, you managed to work the exasperated smile off your face. “i want this because i trust you. you’ll enjoy it too.”

his lips curled downward, but he didn’t deny that obvious fact. still managing genuine resistance, the frenchman reluctantly allowed you to corral him behind his desk and into his chair. you knew for a fact that he had a long day of sorting charts and micromanaging the wellness profiles for the incoming recruits. it was a long, drawn out, and mundane task that could use some liveliness. truly a mutually beneficial arrangement. 

eventually you won out, a small liberty he granted you over his authority when not under direct supervision as the attending. your heart warmed at the sweet gesture of his offered pillow that you used to cushion your rump as you leaned into his thigh. gustave continued to be characteristically doting as he cupped your face and drew circles against the corner of your mouth with his thumb. your lips parted easily, tongue curling around the appendage and suckling firmly. pleased with the full body shudder that vibrates against your chin propped against him. 

you parted with a kiss against its pad,”just relax, gus.”

with his nod of consent, you finally began the task of losing the fastenings of his issued pants and drawing out his cock. the earthy musk was already comforting as your nose brushed against the darker skin. fisting your own hands at your sides, you fed yourself the length of him with the ease his flaccid state permitted. this wasn’t meant to be a blow job but a similar ode to your oral fixation. 

above, gustave groaned softly as you rolled the flat of your tongue against the underside to wet it properly so that it wouldn't stick uncomfortably to the sides of your mouth. you continued to mouth sloppily until a collection drool threatened to seep from the corners. 

likely combined with the hazard of doing this while at work, it only took a few kitten licks to transition him to a half hard state. but you planned for this to last in the long run and not make it uncomfortable for either party. so while you still had the ability to, you swallowed him down until the tip nudged your throat. settling into a near meditative state to even out your breathing came almost second nature to you now as you leaned into his thigh. 

unable to truly unwind without assurance, gustave checked in once more. “are you sure you’re alright?”

your eyes crinkled as you hummed, giving him more than what was asked. 

this was what you wanted. a world lost behind the heavy weight of your lover filling you and stretching your mouth wide. this close and intimate it made it difficult to think about anything other than the scent and heat of his person. occasionally the scratch of pen or rustle of paper would rouse you out of your pensive state but before alertness could trickle in, his fingers would curl into your hair and scratch at your scalp. 

time escaped you without effort as the two of you relaxed. past worries melted away, gustave began to derive a thrilling enjoyment from the leisure of your warm embrace without the usual vigorous movements. it surprised him how less strenuous it was for him to read through file after file. by this point, he would have been near ready to nurse a migraine but within this sort of proximity he found himself working through most of his workload without the strain. you provided to be a welcomed distraction, just active enough with an sporadic undulation of your tongue or languid swallow to pull him from the depths of his thoughts. he felt as though he could survive the entirety of his day like this. 

of course, that all shattered at the echoing knock against his door. startled, gustave all but tried to shove you off but by the time you drowsily submerged from the depths of your mind, the door was already opening. the perpetrator had taken gustave’s quiet hiss as permission to entrance and you silently thanked the person who decorated his office for choosing a well enclosed desk. as long as you remained soundless, your presence would remain unnoticed. 

unable to roll back and stand, gustave's only option was to tuck his chair towards the desk. a thoughtless act that forced his cock further down your oriface. squeezing your eyes shut, you fought the urge to choke and tried to tug back the strings of tranquility. 

overhead, you were pleased to know you had been interrupted by one of the office staff and not a fellow operator. a civilian with enough clearances to handle sensitive documents was nothing compared to a vigilant agent. 

“dr. kateb, i just need your signature for the next supply order.”

the hand not curled in your tresses, apparently waved attendant forward based on the incoming steps. his voice was pitched deep, heavy under the influence of lust as he did the best to interact without alluding to the inappropriate actions being conducted. 

“thank you, sir. is there anything else i can help you with? some tea or coffee perhaps?”

the strength of his grip began to tease the threads of pain and you wondered what his face looked like now. certainly not too frightening if the person had enough gall to continue to ask questions. turning your head the best you could, you burred your nose into his apex and let out a quiet hiss.

not completely unheard, as gustave caught on and loosened his hold. “no, that’s all. i'm about finished up now. thank you.”

the second the door closed, gustave was rolling back eyes widen with thinly veiled panic. you really shouldn’t have found the sight so humorous on a man who’d faced worse in battle. 

“i can’t continue with this,” he shrilled under his breath. you figured as much given his solemnity, but that didn't speak for the desire still glossing over his gaze. it wouldn’t be fair to put all your work to waste. 

you agreed yet your hand still came up to stoke at him. he was nothing like his past disposition, now hard and leaking considerably. you couldn’t just leave him so vulnerable after he’d been so considerate to your needs. you got what you wanted, now it was only fair to return the same courtesy. 

you gave the head a quick lick in concede. “sure, just let me-”

you didn't offer a window for complaint, already rolling into a shallow bob. it didn't take much to encourage him to start thrusting in turn, the way your hands cupped the backs of his knees gave more than enough instruction. the salvia you meant to utilize in your favor, spilled messily out of your mouth as gustave pressed forward again and again. it truly was the best approach as the aged gentleman came shortly after, timing it almost perfectly to when his cock reached the deepest, cum shooting straight down your throat without needing to swallow. 

what you assumed was his elbows, hit the desk above your head as he sagged into his seat. you cleaned what you could of the softened cock before yielding. you scuttled from underneath the desk, one hand wiping the excess mess from your face.

breathing heavily, you leaned back against the desk and gave him a cum stained smile. “see, told you it would be worth it.”

gustave was certain that you had managed to pin yet another nail in his coffin.

[spn-safeandsound]

08. Julia Ruth

Safe and Sound

Dean Winchester x Original Character

Episode: 1x12; Faith

Word Count: 11,431

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence and gore, injury, a steamy scene that doesn’t get very far, protective Dean

Author’s Note: Hi there! Sorry for the weeks since I last updated but I’m here again. This chapter is when things start to change for Dean as far as his feelings toward Julia. Hope you enjoy! Don’t forget to reblog and like!

Masterlist in Profile Description!

The car was dead quiet. There was no music playing, there was no talking; the only sound that anyone could hear was the roar of the engine as Dean sped down the road to the abandoned house they had tracked the rawhead to.

Dean was the reason for the tense silence that filled the air. Well, really it was Dean and Julia but Dean was the only one still angry. Sam honestly thought his brother was overreacting but this was Baby they were talking about.

Their day started out normal. It was Julia's turn to pay for the motel, so they got connected rooms. They had breakfast, they questioned some witnesses about the disappearance of two young siblings, and then they went back to the motel to do some research. That's when things went downhill.

Dean had eaten the last of the chocolate chip cookies that Julia kept stashed away in her bag. Julia had thrown a fit when she found the empty box—it was then that Sam realized that he knew her way too well because he figured it was around the time of the month she started PMS-ing—and started an argument with Dean. Dean was never one to pass up a challenge, so he matched her tone and volume yell-for-yell.

And then Dean mentioned in passing that he saw her undergarments while looking for the cookies and it made it much worse. Sam had seen the embarrassed glint in Julia's eyes before Dean could and within the next moment, she burst into tears.

Dean had been absolutely horrified and started to apologize but Julia wasn't hurt—she was angry. She quickly went into her room and slammed the door that connected their rooms shut. When Dean had gone to the bathroom ten minutes later, she walked back into the room and stole the keys to the Impala.

Sam hadn't stopped her but he should have. He knew about the mood swings she'd get the week before her time of the month and he usually stayed out of her way but Dean was much more terrifying when it came to his precious Baby. He knew now that he'd much rather have a small ball of fury glaring at him with tears in her eyes than deal with his annoying brother when he was angry.

When Dean came out of the bathroom and saw that his keys were gone, he was livid. He waited for Julia in her room and when she got back from the gas station she drove to, with two packages of chocolate chip cookies and a tube of Pringles, the yelling started back up again—and the crying.

Sam honestly wondered how they hadn't gotten a noise complaint.

It had been hours since then and Julia had calmed down considerably. In fact, Sam would guess that she wasn't mad at all anymore, especially when she got her chocolate chip cookie fix. Dean, however, was a different story. He was still furious and was not talking to Julia whatsoever, leaving Sam to mediate. Now he knew how Julia felt whenever he and Dean argued.

Dean pulled into the driveway of the abandoned house and parked, turning off the engine. The three of them gathered at the trunk, watching as Dean dug through their arsenal to find the three tasers.

"How many volts are those turned to?" Julia asked Dean tentatively.

Dean pointedly ignored her.

Sam sighed heavily. "What do you got those amped up to?"

"A hundred thousand volts," Dean answered Sam. Julia's gaze hardened but she didn't say anything as he handed Sam the two tasers; Sam passed one of them onto her.

"Damn."

"Yeah, I want this rawhead extra-fucking-crispy," Dean grumbled as he shut the trunk. "Remember, you only get one shot with these things, so make it count."

They walked into the house and carefully searched the whole main floor before heading into the basement. They turned on their flashlights and slowly walked down the stairs, making sure to keep an eye out for the rawhead. There heard a thump come from their left and saw that it had come from a closed wardrobe.

"On three," Dean whispered to Sam as the two of them walked toward the wardrobe. "One. Two. Three."

He hurriedly opened the wardrobe, hearing a shrill squeak of fear. Julia turned around from where she was searching for the rawhead and saw that the brothers had found the little kids that had disappeared.

"Is it still here?" Sam asked them quietly; both kids nodded.

"Okay, grab your sister's hand," Dean grabbed the boy and gently pulled him to his feet. "Come on, we gotta get you out of here."

The kids scurried up the stairs with Sam on their heels and Dean and Julia watched their backs if the rawhead decided to attack them. Sam tripped as his ankle was grabbed through the staircase, causing the little girl to scream.

Sam watched as Dean whipped around the stairs and shot his taser. It surged out but hit nothing.

"Sam, get them upstairs!" Dean called to him. "Get outta here!"

"Here, take this," Sam tossed him his own taser before turning to scrambled up the rest of the stairs. He grabbed both of the kids' hands and led them out of the house. "Come on, come on."

They were safely outside when Sam heard Dean scream, "Julia!"

The desperation in his brother's voice chilled Sam's blood. He briefly told the kids to stay outside before sprinting back into the house and down the stairs to the basement. At the foot of the stairs, in a puddle of water, Dean knelt over Julia's body, desperately shaking her to wake her up.

Sam's breath left him.

"Julia!" he grunted, checking her pulse. "Come on, Jules, don't do this."

"Dean, what—?"

"Call an ambulance, Sam!"

He felt like his life was slowed down and then sped up in a second. He didn't remember calling for an ambulance, the paramedics doing CPR on Julia, or the ride to the hospital. It was like he blinked and he was suddenly in the middle of a silent waiting room, waiting for news on his best friend.

Sam hadn't been allowed to go back with Julia since he wasn't family but Dean had lied to the paramedics and told them he was her husband. While Dean stayed with Julia as the doctors ran tests on her, Sam called her family and took care of the paperwork that needed to be done while the police waited to ask him questions.

"Sir, I'm so sorry to ask," the nurse at the desk smiled sadly at him. "but your brother said you would give us Mrs. Petersen's insurance."

"Right," Sam shook his head blankly, pulling the insurance card that he took from Julia's wallet. He handed it to the nurse, along with her driver's license. "Here you go."

"Thank you, Mr. Petersen," the nurse assumed that his last name was the same as Julia's since they were told that she was married to his brother.

Sam nodded at her and turned to the police officers while she typed in Julia's information.

"Look, we can finish this up later," one of the officers suggested.

"No, no, it's okay," Sam shook his head; he wanted to get this done now. "We were just taking a shortcut through the neighborhood. The windows were rolled down, we heard some screaming when we drove past the house, and we stopped and ran in."

"And you found the kids in the basement?" the officer asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, thank God you did," the officer's partner commented

Sam looked back down the hallway when he heard the door to Julia's room open and close. A doctor walked out, holding a clipboard, and nodded at him so he could share Julia's results.

"Excuse me," he muttered to the officers.

"Sure," the officer nodded. "Thanks for your help."

Sam gave him a polite smile and turned away, walking over to the doctor. "Is she...?"

"She's resting," the doctor assured him.

"And?"

"The electrocution triggered a heart attack," the man informed him. "A pretty massive one, I'm afraid. Her heart is damaged."

Sam stiffened. "How damaged?"

"We've done all we can," he said sympathetically. "We can try and keep her comfortable at this point but I'd give her a couple of weeks. A month, at most."

"No," Sam shook his head in denial, his heart starting to race. "There's—there's gotta be something you can do, some kind of treatment."

They could put her on the transplant list, they could give her a pacemaker...they had to do something, at least. Julia could not die. His sister could not die. He would do anything in his power to make sure she stayed alive. She was the one who was supposed to plan his funeral. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

The doctor gave him a sad smile. "We can't work miracles," he mumbled. "I really am sorry."

Sam pressed his lips together and stormed away from the man. What kind of doctor wouldn't even put his patient on a heart transplant list? Didn't Julia qualify for that kind of thing? It's not like she smoked or did anything that would prevent her from being on the list.

The door to Julia's room was opened slightly and Sam could hear the low rumble of his brother's voice talking to someone. At first he thought that he was talking to Julia but then he realized that Dean was actually on the phone.

"I'm not sure what you want me to do, Beth," Dean spoke to Julia's oldest sister as Sam slipped into the room. Dean nodded at him and started again, reacting to whatever Beth told him, "No, a few weeks...he didn't say anything about a list, no... I can't exactly move her, Beth. She wouldn't make a drive back home, it's fourteen hours."

As Dean continued speaking with Beth, Sam observed his best friend. Julia was still asleep and the hospital bed made her look so damn small. Her brown hair was pulled up into a messy bun at the top of her head, an oxygen mask placed over her mouth and nose, and dark circles stood out against her pale face under her eyes. There was a burn on her left cheek and at the top of her left arm, there was a bandage; Sam remembered that she had a few burns from where the volts left her body. He had never seen her look so sick.

"We're in Cheyanne, Wyoming," Dean told Beth.

Dean sounded as tired as Julia looked. His voice was dull and thick, as if he had a frog in his throat. The tip of his nose was red and so were the rims of his eyes. Sam had realized that Dean had been crying and it made his own throat tighten with emotion.

When he saw that Dean's, fingers were wrapped firmly around Julia's right hand where it rested on the hospital bed, tears came to his eyes.

God, he thought to himself, this couldn't be happening.

"Okay, I'll keep you updated," Dean confirmed into the phone. "Talk to you later, Beth."

He snapped the phone shut and stayed silent as he set it down and picked up the TV remote. He unmuted the volume and flipped through the channels, all the while keeping his hand around Julia's and his eyes on the TV.

"Have you ever actually watched daytime TV?" he asked Sam.

Sam sighed heavily. "I talked to J's doctor..."

"That fabric softener teddy bear," Dean narrowed his eyes at the commercial before flipping to a different channel as he avoided the conversation Sam was trying to have with him. "Oh, I'm gonna hunt that little bitch down."

"Dean."

Dean pressed the power button on the remote, shutting the TV off before looking at Sam. "Abby's on her way here," he informed him. "She's gonna stay with Julia while we head off."

"What are you talking about?" Sam furrowed his eyebrows in disbelief. "We're not leaving without Julia, Dean."

"I don't want to leave her, either, Sammy, but..." Dean trailed off and pressed his lips together to hide the emotion that Sam saw brewing in his eyes. "...there's nothing we can do for her."

"No, she's not gonna die, okay?" Sam quickly got defensive. "I'll—I'll find a way to save her. I'll look into every option."

"Sam, the doctors—"

"The doctors don't know the things we do, Dean!" he interrupted his brother.

"And what if you can't find anything, huh?" Dean's voice raised in frustration, his fingers tightening around Julia's hand.

"Then I'm staying with her until the end," Sam's firm statement made Dean pause and lower his eyes.

Dean's vision blurred as he stared at the periwinkle polish on Julia's fingernails. She had been so damn excited to find that color that she blabbed about it for almost an hour before Dean tuned her out by turning up the volume of his music. He wished he hadn't done that. He'd listen to her talk about periwinkle nail polish for days if it meant that she'd be okay.

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. "We'll stay with her, then," he said quietly, his wet eyes flickering up to meet's Sam's equally sad ones. "and we'll try to find something."

Sam nodded, glad that his brother agreed with him. He sat down on Julia's other side and took her hand, careful not to dislodge her IV. An hour later, when the nurse told them that visiting hours were over, he pretended he didn't see Dean kiss Julia on the forehead before they left.

-

The field was full of four kinds of flowers this time. Different ones than before; yellow ones on her left, pink ones in front of her, yellow Tulips on her right, and blue behind her. It was the different meanings of the flowers that struck Julia as odd, rather than the amount

Goldenrods for encouragement. Blue salvia for thinking of someone. Yellow tulips for sunshine. Peonies for healing.

Three of them were flowers that you'd find in a hospital giftshop. Ones you'd pick up on your way to visit a loved on in the hospital. When Naomi was in the hospital, Julia would always bring her yellow tulips instead of the bouquets in the gift shop because her mom's smile lit up the room like sunshine.

It was comforting to see the tulips even when she knew something was wrong.

"Julia Ruth."

Julia looked away from the yellow tulips and saw the beam of sun in front of her. Even with the sun hitting the grass a few feet in front of her, the sky around it was dark and stormy. She could see flashes of lightning here and there and rumbles of thunder in the distance.

"What's happening?" she whispered shakily.

She was scared. The last dream of her angel she had like this was the night after her mom died. At that time, she was surrounded only by yellow tulips and an almost black sky. She had taken a look at the flowers around her and started to bawl. Her angel was there to comfort her.

"What's wrong?"

Was it Sam or Dean? Levi, Beth, or Abby? Her dad? Lydia or Taylor? Who was hurt? Who was dying?

"You're in the hospital," the angel told her.

Julia paled in realization. The peonies, the healing. She was relieved, though, that it was her instead of one of her loved ones.

"You were injured on a hunt. You had a heart attack from the electricity that flowed through your body."

She remembered a little. She had shot the taser at the rawhead as it lunged at Dean. The rawhead lit up like a firework and she heard Dean scream her name but that was all she could recall.

A heart attack at twenty years old. Who would have thought? She always knew that hunting was dangerous and she was mostly likely to die at a young age due to her new lifestyle but it was too soon. She'd only been hunting for seven months.

She sure did draw the short straw, huh?

Julia looked back at the dark gray sky. "I'm dying, aren't I?"

She didn't feel as sad as she thought she would. She knew that Heaven awaited her once she passed and she'd be in paradise. It was her loved ones she felt sad for. Beth, Abby, and Levi would lose their little sister only four years after their mother. Her dad would lose his baby girl, her niece an aunt. And Sam and Dean...with their dad gone, all they had left was each other and her.

Maybe that's why most people were afraid of dying, she mused to herself. Because they know that their death really only affects the people they leave behind.

"You're not dying," her angel proclaimed. "Not today, not from this."

As he finished speaking, Julia's hand went to her forehead where there was a sudden pressure and a jolt of energy that came out of nowhere. She waited to feel it again but the sensation was long gone.

"Julia Ruth."

She hadn't realized that she had zoned out, thinking of the strange sensation on her skin.

She focused back on the sun beam. "Are you here to take me to Heaven?"

"No," her angel said simply. "You are Chosen for a reason."

"What?" Julia wrinkled her nose, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"When you wake, there will be a solution," her angel declared. "We will meet again soon."

-

On the numbered oak door in front of him was a large light-blue sign shaped like a dinosaur skull, a familiar name cut out in the bottom. JONAH. Dean stared at it, perplexed, before looking around at the unfamiliar hallway he was standing in.

The floors were made of white linoleum tiles and the walls were painted a light gray with subway tiles covering the bottom half of them. There were industrial sconces in between the numerous doors that lined the hall. He had no idea where he was. He had never been there before.

Dean turned back to the dinosaur door and cautiously opened it. He slowly stepped into the room, looking around in shock.

It was a nursery. Two of the walls were painted light green, one was the same blue as the sign on the door, and one was covered in a wallpaper with dark blue dinosaurs. The white tiles were covered in a light green area rug with the same blue dinosaurs as the wallpaper. Toys were neatly organized in a toy box in the far-left corner with a rocking chair and a bookshelf next to it. Against the dinosaur wall was a white crib with JONAH painted above it in dark green. On the wall across from the crib was a white changing table that doubled as a dresser.

Why the hell was he in a nursery? What was this place?

A soft cooing noise came from Jonah's crib, startling Dean. He cautiously walked over to it, his eyes widening when he saw that there was an actual baby laying inside of it. Wearing a onesie with a black car on the front, the baby smiled up at him, making a happy noise.

Dean had to admit that Jonah was a cute baby. He had a head full of dark brown hair. His eyes were hazel and his dimples...they were the Winchester dimples. The ones that his dad and Sam shared. A shocked noise came from the back of Dean's throat as the baby wiggled around in the crib, kicking his feet excitedly. Was Jonah his son? Who the hell would he have a son with?

Jonah's face fell when Dean continued to stare down at him in shock. He opened his mouth—his nose wrinkling with a familiarity that Dean couldn't recall—but Dean moved before he could let out a cry.

"Shh..." he cooed to the baby. "It's okay, Daddy's here."

Where the fuck did that come from?

"You gotta be a man about sleeping in your crib, all right?" Dean apparently had no control over his mouth. "You're getting too big to sleep with me and your momma."

Jonah's face smoothed out, happy with the attention his dad was giving him. "Da."

Dean didn't know why but his heart soared with happiness. "Yeah, bud," he smiled down at his son. "I'm your dad."

Jonah fidgeted, one of his curled fists resting against his dimpled cheek. He smiled again and, this time, Dean saw a couple of new teeth popping out of his pink gums.

"If you sleep through the whole night, I'll give you five bucks," Dean dared him. "Can you do that for me and Momma?"

Jonah hummed and Dean grinned. "Good," he answered, satisfied. "Love you, Jonah. Goodnight."

He reached up and turned the mobile over the crib on. Jonah was instantly enraptured by the rotating stuffed dinosaurs, his green eyes lighting up. Dean began to leave the room, switching on the lamp on the changing table, and turning off the overhead light. He took one more look at the nursery before closing the door.

Across from Jonah's door was another room. On the door of number fifteen, there was a sign just like Jonah and Levi's, except it was a red truck with another familiar name carved out in the bottom.

PETER

Maybe this kid was Sam's. Dean opened the door and peeked into the room. It wasn't a nursery like Jonah's room but it still was a kid's room. The light was on already, showcasing the construction theme. The little twin bed was covered in sheets and a comforter with tractors, dump trucks, and cranes all red, yellow, or blue. The walls were a light blue.

On one wall, PETER was spelt out in large red letters. A toy chest was underneath it, along with a dresser and a bookshelf. On the wall across from that was a desk. And on the floor in the middle of an area rug that was designed like a highway, was a freckled blonde toddler wearing pajama pants with lions on them. He wore no shirt and he was playing with Lego set.

"Pete, where's your shirt?" again, Dean didn't know why he was saying anything.

Peter looked up with wide green eyes, identical to Dean's. "Hi, Daddy," he looked very guilty and Dean was instantly suspicious. "Whatcha doing?"

"You're supposed to be bed, buddy," Dean walked over to him and bent down, easily swinging him up into his arms. "Where'd you put your shirt?"

"Momma said I didn't have to wear one," Peter declared innocently before placing a hand on Dean's left cheek. "Are you okay, Daddy?"

"Course I am," Dean assured him; Peter smiled widely, showing off a dimple in his left cheek.

The famous Petersen dimple.

If Dean had any control over his body whatsoever, he might have dropped Peter in realization. He knew three women with those Petersen dimples and one of them was already married with a kid.

So, who did he knock up? Julia or Abby?

As if the universe was answering him, Julia stepped into the room—looking pale, exhausted, and older than her twenty-year-old self—and gave both boys a stern look.

"Peter Samuel, you're supposed to be in bed," she scolded him, placing her hands against her t-shirt clad hips.

And, God, if Dean didn't find that sexy. He'd seen Julia's mom-mode several times before but never had it made him hard like it did now. Was this what happened when you had kids? You get turned on by good parenting?

"Did you say he could sleep without a shirt?" Dean found himself asking her, ignoring the start of his erection in his sweatpants.

Julia rolled her eyes playfully and walked over to them. "Yes," she tickled Peter's bare stomach, making the toddler squeal in delight. "He takes them off anyway. Don't you, sunshine?"

Peter laughed, pushing her manicured hands away from his stomach. "Momma, no!"

Dean's heart soared again and suddenly he was wishing this was real. That he and Julia were together and raising two sons. Two beautiful sons that seemed like great kids. Sons that he already loved with all of his heart.

If this was a dream, Dean didn't want to wake up.

Julia stopped tickling Peter and kissed the boy on the forehead. "You gotta go to sleep or we're not having blueberry pancakes tomorrow."

"No!" Peter whined. "I want them."

"Go to sleep then," Julia dared him with a raised eyebrow. "You know, I heard your dad tell Jonah that he's giving away money to sleep through the night."

"What?"

"Mmhm," Dean hummed. "I guess your brother is gonna have more money in his piggy bank than you..."

"No!" Peter wiggled his legs against Dean's chest, struggling to get down. Dean set him on the floor and he sprinted to his bed. "Okay, I'm sleeping now."

Dean laughed and grabbed Julia's hand, intertwining their fingers. "All right, hotshot. Goodnight."

"Night," Peter chirped, pulling his comforter up to his chin and giving his parents a dimpled smile. "Love you."

"Love you, too, Pete."

"Love you, Peter," Julia promised. "Don't forget that the angels are watching over you."

"Yes, they are!"

Dean and Julia left the room, after turning out the light, and walked down the hallway. Despite the casual way he walked by Julia's side, he was in turmoil. His mom had told him that all the time when he was a kid. The fact that Julia used that same phrase for their son made love swell within his stomach.

God, he wished this was real.

Dean and Julia stopped at room eleven and entered. There were records displayed on one wall, family pictures on the other, and above the king-sized bed was a picture of Dean and Julia of what looked to be their wedding day.

Holy fuck, he married Julia. Since when was he a marriage guy?

"Did you talk to Sam before he went to bed?" Julia asked him, shimmying off the pajama shorts she had been wearing.

"Yeah," Dean answered as he pulled off his shirt.

"And?"

"And he's still feeling a little off," Dean shrugged and then stepped out of his sweatpants. "How are you feeling?"

She sighed tiredly and Dean felt a wave of worry falling over him. "I'm tired and my bones ache a little."

Dean raised his eyebrow. "That's it? I heard you coughing earlier."

"I'll get better, Dean," she assured him, walking over to him and lovingly placing a hand on his cheek. "I was made for this."

Dean grabbed her hand, intertwined their fingers, and bowed his head, his nose grazing against her dimpled cheek. "You were made for me."

What the hell were they even talking about? What was he talking about?

"Yeah, I was," Julia smiled softly and pulled away, looking at him with bloodshot hazel eyes. "Now, are we going to keep talking or are you gonna put me to bed because you look very sexy right now."

Dean chuckled, feeling his cock start to grow once again. "It's because I'm wearing sweatpants, isn't it?"

"It's the sweatpants," she confirmed jokingly.

"Well," Dean kissed her forehead, then her nose, her chin, and then back up to her lips. "Whatever my baby needs," he pressed his hips into her stomach. "What are you thinking tonight?"

Julia sighed against his cheek, her lips trailing across his jaw. "Whatever you want. I just want you."

Dean moaned and reached down to grab her ass, roughly pulling her closer to him. Jesus Christ, he wanted her so bad. He was so hard that he had to remind himself that this was definitely a dream and this was not really him and Julia at all.

Julia's face was overcome with desire and, with a soft moan, she pushed Dean back onto the bed. Dean grinned as she climbed on top of him, straddling his lap and...

"Dean, would you wake up?"

Dean jumped up at Sam's voice, his eyes shooting open.

No, no, no, he thought frantically, seeing that he was back in the motel room in Wyoming. There was no bedroom, there was no Julia, and there were no Peter and Jonah.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes to stop them from filling with tears. That dream...it was a future he wanted to have. An apple-pie life with a couple of kids and his brother at his side. And Julia...she was his wife. His chest filled with grief and longing when he thought about her and those boys.

Julia was dying. She'd never get that life, either.

Sam gave him a weird look. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded and rolled out of bed; it was seven in the morning and Sam was already at his laptop, doing intense research to find something to heal Julia. "Find anything yet?"

He remembered doing his own research before he went to bed. He found nothing that would be able to help Julia. It frustrated the hell out of him and scared him, too. Maybe that's why he had that dream...He wanted Julia healthy and to live a long life and his head manifested a little family for them.

Yeah, that's what it was.

"I'm looking into something right now," Sam informed him; Dean raised a curious eyebrow. "Abby called and said something about a specialist in Nebraska."

"Like a heart specialist?" Dean wondered; Sam nodded slowly. "Hmm. Well, is Abby almost here yet?"

"I talked to her an hour ago. She said she was only a hundred or so miles away," Sam said. "She's coming from Bobby's place."

Bobby. Dean hadn't seen Bobby Singer in years. Bobby was a family friend that he and Sam stayed with some over the years but when he and John had a falling out, Dean hadn't seen him since. He missed the hell out of that cranky bastard. He was wicked smart and the father figure he should have had in his life.

"Hey," Sam got his attention when his thoughts trailed off. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," Dean shook his head to focus. "I'm just, um, I'm worried about Jules."

Sam sighed and stood up, grabbing a white box off the table and bringing it over to Dean. "Me too," he smiled sympathetically before going back to his seat at the table. "Hey...I was thinking that maybe you should call Dad and Luke."

"Why?" Dean scoffed as he opened the box, smiling slightly when he saw the chocolate glazed doughnuts inside. "Neither of them are gonna answer. In her last call, Beth very angrily told me that her dad wasn't answering any of their calls."

"That's what Abby said, too," Sam sighed, leaning back in his chair. "But I think you should try them, anyway. For Julia."

Well, when he put it like that, Dean couldn't refuse. He'd do anything for that stubborn little shortcake.

He called Luke first and wasn't surprised to get his voicemail. "This is Luke Alexander and I am currently unavailable. If this is an emergency, call my daughter, Abby. 630-754-9296. She can help."

Dean scoffed as he ended the call, not bothering to leave a message. His voicemail recording was nearly identical to John's, who didn't pick up, either.

"This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 866-907-3235. He can help."

"Hey, Dad, it's Dean," he couldn't help but leave a message for his dad. "I know you probably won't get this but me and Sam need help. It's Julia, Dad. She's really sick and the doctors are saying she's not gonna make it," he sniffed and turned away from Sam, who was watching him carefully. "We're gonna save her, though. Sam, Abby, and I are gonna find something. So, if Luke's with you, you should tell him that she's gonna be okay...All right, just wanted you to know."

As Dean snapped his phone shut and tossed it on his bed, there was a knock on the door. Sam and Dean gave it hesitant looks for a few seconds and there was another knock before Sam got up to open the door.

Abby Petersen's beautiful smile greeted them, her family's signature dimple popping out. It made Dean's heart ache as he remembered Peter's smile.

God, I'm heartbroken over a couple of kids who don't even exist, Dean grumbled mentally.

"Long time no see, Sam. Aren't you all grown up," Abby commented, her eyes sliding up and down Sam's body. Dean grinned at Sam as his cheeks flushed at the down-to-fuck eyes Abby was flashing him.

"God, Abby, it's raining and I'm cold so if you could stop flirting, that'd be great," to Dean and Sam's surprise, Julia appeared behind her older and much taller sister, a disgruntled look on her face.

"Yeah, yeah," Abby rolled her eyes and wrapped her arm around her sister, helping her into the room. Sam took over for her and practically took all of Julia's weight without a problem as Abby shut the door behind them.

"You're supposed to be in the hospital," Dean couldn't help but scold her as he helped Sam sit her down in an empty chair by the table. "What are you doing here?"

"What, are you talking to me now?" Julia grunted in pain as she settled, pulling the hood from her head. She looked worse than the day before; her eyes were darker and there was a large red mark on the left side of her face.

Dean pressed his lips together at her remark, his lips turning down guiltily. He felt so horrible about the way he treated her before and even during the hunt. He felt responsible for what happened; she saved him from the rawhead and he repaid her by not watching her carefully enough. He always hated feeling guilty—it made his stomach hurt. That was the reason why he apologized so quickly when he yelled at Sam or Julia in particular.

"Julia."

Julia grumbled at the warning Abby gave her and answered Dean's original question. "Hospitals freak me out."

Dean's face softened; he grabbed the blanket from his bed and laid it over her lap. It was so strange to see her all bundled up. Usually she ran hot and more often than not, was pushing a blanket away from her. It was kind of lucky, though, since Sam was a cover-hog—so was Dean for that matter.

"Thanks," Julia whispered with a small smile before looking back and forth at the brothers. "Have you guys even slept? You look worse than me."

Dean avoided her eyes as he went to sit on the foot of his bed. Abby joined him, grabbing one of the doughnuts from the box he had forgotten about. As he grabbed the other one, he mumbled, "Had a bad dream."

The only thing bad about that dream was the fact he wasn't in it right now.

"I've been scouring the internet the last twelve hours," Sam informed her, sitting back down in his seat at the table. "And we called every contact in our dad's journal."

Julia gave him a tired yet curious look. "For what?"

"For a way to help you," Abby spoke up before looking over at Sam. "Did you look up that fa—"

"The specialist?" Sam cut her off suspiciously. "Yeah, I did. He's in Gering, Nebraska. Only an hour or two away from here. We should get going, actually..."

"Woah, woah, woah," Julia shook her head weakly. "I don't want to do tests and I don't want to be poked and prodded. Can't a girl die in peace?"

"You're not dying," Dean said gruffly; all eyes turned at him in shock but he stood up and started repacking his bag. "Come on. We're on the road in ten."

-

Dean glared at the tent that he and Sam had driven up to. A large sign was declaring that the preacher, Roy LeGrange, was a faith healer...not a heart specialist like Sam led him to believe. It was bullshit—there were no such thing as a faith healer or miracles like the sign was promising.

"Man, you are a lying bastard," Dean glared at Sam as Abby's Jeep Liberty pulled up in the mud beside the Impala. "You said we were going to see a doctor."

"I said specialist, Dean," Sam corrected him. "It's not my fault you assumed it was a doctor."

Dean rolled his eyes in disbelief.

"Besides," Sam added. "I think Julia would be more comfortable here. She's doesn't like hospitals, especially since—"

"Since Naomi, I know," Dean grumbled, ignoring the thoughtful smile on Sam's face.

He got out of the car and went straight to Julia's side of Abby's Jeep, opening the door for her. To his surprise, and Sam's immense shock, Julia didn't look happy to be here, either.

Sam's face fell. "You don't like faith healers, either?"

"Oh, God, don't," Abby warned them as she came around the Jeep, walking carefully in the thick mud. "She started complaining as soon as she saw that sign."

"Faith healers aren't real!" Julia exclaimed as strongly as she could. "The only person who could heal by faith was Jesus and I doubt that he would go by the name of Roy if he came back already."

Dean snickered as he wrapped an arm around her waist, helping her get down from her seat. He continued to hold onto her when her feet were planting on the ground, knowing that she would need some help to the tent. She was kind of clumsy already but if mud was in the picture, she was done for.

"And I just cleaned these," Julia pouted down at her white converse.

"I'll get you new ones," Sam promised as the four of them started walking toward the tent. "Look, J, this guy is supposed to be the real deal."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Julia muttered bitterly.

An old lady heard her comment. "Reverend LeGrange is a great man," she said indignantly.

"Yeah, keep walking, lady," Dean snapped at her as he helped Julia past a protester, who was complaining about the reverend cheating people out of money, and the cop who was dealing with him. "I take it he's not part of the flock."

"When people see something they can't explain, there's controversy," Sam shrugged.

"Come on, Sam, a faith healer?" even Julia didn't want to do this. It was just something that she thought wasn't real. People took advantage of religious phrases sometimes and faith healers were one of those. They used the faith of naïve people to fatten their wallets.

"Jules, Elijah and Paul healed people in the Bible," Abby pointed out.

Julia shook her head. "Those instances were metaphorical," she disagreed. "They didn't physically heal anyone. They healed them spiritually."

"I don't understand," Sam shook his head at her as they got nearer to the tent. "You believe in God and you're a practicing Christian. Why don't you have faith?"

"I do have faith," she snapped at him; it was like Sam wasn't listening to her. "I have faith in God. The fact that I'm actually alive is an example of God's grace, okay? Just because I don't believe in faith healers, doesn't mean that I—"

"Maybe God works through the faith healers," a blonde girl interrupted Julia, giving the four of them a sweet smile. "Fills them with the Holy Spirit like he did with Jesus."

"Interesting thought," Julia humored her. If that's what the girl wanted to believe, fine. She was an absolute stranger and Julia wasn't the type of person to rag on beliefs that were different than hers. The only reason she was having trouble with Sam was because he was only hoping that this guy would magically heal her.

Quite honestly, she thought that Abby and Sam were in denial about the fact that she was going to die. The only reason she got out of the car was because she didn't want to upset them. She wanted to make the transition of her death easier on them, so she'd go along for now.

"I'm Julia," she introduced herself to the girl and then gestured to the others. "This is my sister, Abby, and that's Sam and Dean."

"Layla," she replied kindly. "and I think you'll be surprised by Reverend LeGrange. God works in mysterious ways, you know."

"True," Julia conceded.

"I better get in there," Layla nodded toward the tent as an older lady walked up to her side. "It's starting soon."

As Layla and the older woman walked into the tent together, Dean muttered, "I bet she works in mysterious ways...Ouch, what the fuck, Abby?"

Julia winced at the dirty looks some people in line were giving them. She turned to Dean and Abby, who had whacked him in the back of his head at his nasty comment, and glared.

"We're at a place of worship," she reminded him through gritted teeth.

Dean had the courtesy to look sheepish. "Sorry."

Julia, Dean, Sam, and Abby entered the tent, the latter two looking for seats in the front so Julia would have a better chance of getting picked by the reverend. Dean's eyes wandered around the tent, scoffing when he saw the camera set up in the corner.

"Yeah, peace, love, and trust all over," he muttered bitterly.

Sam ignored him, as did Julia and Abby, and gestured toward the front of the tent. "Come on."

He grabbed Julia away from Dean's grasp and helped her walk up the aisle to the second row. There just happened to be only three empty seats, so Dean was forced to sit his skeptical ass down in a row toward the back. He and Abby made Julia sit in the aisle seat right behind Layla and her mother.

An old man was led onto the stage, dressed in a nice suit and dark glasses. He was blind but it didn't mean he was helpless. As his wife took a seat at the piano and started to play a welcoming tune, Reverend LeGrange faced the crowd with a kind smile.

"Each morning, my wife, Sue Ann, reads me the news," Roy started his sermon. "Never seems good, does it?"

There was a murmur of agreement from the crowd.

"Seems like there's always someone committing some immoral, unspeakable act," Roy continued as Julia eyed the strange crosses on the table behind him. There was one in particular that she didn't like the look of—it didn't look like anything she had seen before.

"But I say to you, God is watching!"

"Yes, he is," someone murmured from the row behind them.

"God rewards the good and he punishes the corrupt," the crowd hummed again and Roy went on, "It is the Lord who does the healing here, friends. The Lord who guides me in choosing who to heal by helping me see into people's hearts."

"Amen, amen!"

"And today, the Lord is guiding me to one heart in particular," Roy announced. "the young lady in the second row, here."

Julia looked away from the strange cross she was trying to place and over to Reverend LeGrange. Abby was nudging her arm excitedly and Sam looked ecstatic that the reverend picked her.

"What's your name, young lady?" Roy asked as Sue Ann stood from the piano.

Julia cleared her throat. "Julia."

"Julia Ruth," Roy stated and her eyes widened in absolute shock. How he would know her middle name was beyond her. Maybe she was wrong about faith healers after all. Maybe Layla had been right. "Julia, I want you to come up here with me."

The congregation started cheering at the reverend's announcement. Julia hesitated. What made her so special that she would be healed before the others in this tent? It didn't feel right.

"I, uh—"

"You came here to be healed, didn't you?" Roy asked expectantly as Sue Ann moved to the middle of the stage to usher Julia to him.

As Abby nudged her harshly, she said, "Yes."

The crowd cheered again, clapping enthusiastically.

"The Lord has chosen you, Julia Ruth," Roy told her.

Chosen. Hadn't she heard that recently?

Sam leaned around Abby to hiss at her, "Get up there."

Julia slowly got up from her chair and walked up to the stage. She didn't know what was going to happen or if she was actually going to be healed but she had to try, at least. She owed it to her loved ones to try.

Sue Ann grabbed her hand as she got to the steps and helped her onto the stage. She made sure she was right where Roy could reach her.

"You ready?" Roy asked her quietly.

"I-I'm nervous," she hesitated, stammering slightly.

"There's no need to be, Julia Ruth," Roy assured her before turning back to the congregation. "Pray with me, friends."

Julia bowered her head to pray as Roy placed his hand on her shoulder. The energy she was reading off of him was nice and pure-intentioned but there was something around the tent that didn't feel right.

She silently prayed to God and her guardian angel, apologizing for not having faith in her bad times like her mother always told her to. She then pleaded for this to work because she couldn't stand to see the sad faces that Sam, Abby, and Dean would give her if it didn't.

"All right, now," Roy whispered. "All right, now."

The hand on her shoulder slid up to the side of her face, right over the bruise on her cheek. Almost immediately, her heart started to race and her knees weakened. Her body broke out into a cold sweat and her vision blurred as she fell to her knees on the stage.

She could hear murmurs from the crowd but she couldn't really focus on them. A weird feeling came over her the more Roy prayed to heal her. It felt cold; it felt like death.

Her vision went black and it was only a minutes later that she woke up. She had passed out on stage, causing Sam, Dean, and Abby to rush up to her to make sure she was all right.

Dean and Abby were asking her something but she couldn't hear what it was. There was buzzing in her ears and her blurry eyes focused above their shoulders where a man stood. As her vision cleared, she saw that he wasn't really a man. He looked more like a spirit—and he was the one giving off the cold energy.

And then the man disappeared.

-

"Abby, I don't feel right," Julia confessed to her sister as they waited for the doctor to come in with her results.

"What?" Abby gave her an alarmed look as she walked over to the bed she was sitting on. "I thought you said you feel okay?"

"I feel fine, that's the problem," Julia sighed.

Something wasn't right about that man that she saw. And, according to Dean, who she asked when they went to get dinner for everyone the previous night, he didn't see a man behind Roy at all. Everything just seemed suspicious to her. It didn't feel right.

"What do you mean?"

"I—"

Before Julia could tell Abby what was wrong, the doctor walked into the exam room. She held a file in her hands, flipping through the results of the tests she had taken to make sure everything was all right with her heart.

"Well, according to all your tests, there's nothing wrong with your heart," the woman told her with a smile. "No sign there ever was—not that a woman your age should be having heart trouble..." her smile fell slightly. "but I've seen heart issues in patients your age before. It's strange..."

"What is?" Abby asked, furrowed her eyebrows.

"Just yesterday, a young guy in his twenties and athletic had a heart attack," the doctor informed them. "Out of nowhere. No previous issues."

Julia was silent for almost the whole way back to the motel, ignoring Abby's tries for conversation. The only reason she spoke was to call Beth and then Levi to inform them that her heart was better. When they got back, Julia went straight to the room she was sharing with her sister, allowing Abby to share the news with Sam and Dean.

She curled up on her bed, facing the bathroom and pulling her blanket up over her head. She felt horrible, absolutely horrible—and it wasn't physically. She honestly did not think it was a coincidence that the same day her heart condition was healed, someone dropped dead in town with the same thing. That didn't occur naturally.

Something was off about this whole faith healing thing and she was pretty sure that it started with the man she had seen behind Roy after he healed her.

"Julia," Sam entered the room; Julia didn't take the blanket off her bed. "How are you feeling?"

She grunted in response, making him sigh.

"Maybe it was a coincidence about the guy, J," he offered. "I mean, people's hearts give out all the time."

"No, they don't, Sam," Julia grumbled.

"I don't understand why we have to look this one in the mouth," Sam grew frustrated. "Why can't we just be thankful that the guy saved your life and move on?"

Julia rolled her eyes, annoyed. "Just go away, Sam!"

Sam sighed dramatically and she heard him say something to Abby and Dean that he couldn't through to her. She wondered who would come in next—Abby or Dean? She assumed it would be Abby because even though she didn't like the sappy or touchy-feely thing, she was better at it than Dean.

It wasn't Abby who came in and ripped the blanket off of her.

"Dean!" she huffed when she looked up and saw him standing above her, slipped into the small amount of space between the bed and the outside of the bathroom. "Stop."

"I don't think so, shortcake."

Julia angrily pursed her lips and flipped over, stubbornly facing the other direction. Dean scoffed—whether it was from amusement or frustration, she didn't know—and literally climbed over her onto the side she was facing. He rearranged himself so he was on his side, facing her.

She could see every freckle on his stupid attractive face. She hated to admit it because she wanted to be angry that this had happened but just the sight of him calmed her down. It wasn't fair.

"Tell me what's going on with you, Junior."

"That feeling I had..."

"The one you told me about last night?" Dean recalled. "The cold energy or whatever behind Roy."

Julia nodded, kinda touched that he listened to her ramble on and on. "Dean, it can't be a coincidence about that guy."

"Sam said he didn't see anything."

"Well, he doesn't have the same abilities I do, does he?" she got defensive.

"Hey," Dean gave her a stern look that had her quieting down. "I'm on your side, shortcake. If you saw something, I believe you."

Julia smiled and reached out, poking the cleft of his chin; Dean's eyes widened in response and but he didn't look uncomfortable. "Thanks, D."

"So, what do you want to do?" Dean asked her. "You wanna go visit the reverend?"

"Do you think it would help?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah and I can get Sammy and Abby to look into the guy's death, okay?"

"What are you gonna do?"

"I'm gonna go with you, of course."

-

"So, how are you feeling, Julia Ruth?" Roy asked Julia as she and Dean sat in the seats that Sue Ann offered them in his office.

She wished she knew how he knew that name. The only other person who called her by her first and middle name—other than her parents or siblings when she did something bad—was her guardian angel.

"I'm better," Julia gave Sue Ann a grateful smile as she passed her a glass of sweet tea. "Um, actually, I was wondering if you could answer some questions I have."

"She has this thing where she'll do anything to learn what she can't understand," Dean added as he was passed a glass of sweet tea, too. "She wants to make sense of what happened."

"A miracle is what happened," Sue Ann smiled as she sat in the chair next to Roy. "Miracles come so often around Roy."

Julia smiled, feeling awkward as Roy continued to face her like he was studying her in some way. She knew he was blind but if he knew her middle name, what else could he know about her. "Looks like it."

"When did they start?" Dean asked Roy. "The miracles."

"Woke up one morning, stone blind," Roy shared. "Doctors figured out I had cancer. Told me I had maybe a month. So, uh..." he paused. "we prayed for a miracle. I was weak but I told Sue Ann, you just keep on praying."

"My mom used to say that you had to faith in the bad times to see the good times," Julia commented with a fond smile.

Roy grinned. "First Peter, chapter four, verse thirteen: But rejoice in as much you participate in the sufferings of Christ so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed."

Julia nodded. "Or Romans, chapter five, verse three: Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings because we know that suffering produces perseverance."

"You know your stuff, Julia Ruth," Roy said, impressed. Sue Ann beamed at her as he continued the story about the beginnings of his miracles. "So, anyway, I went into a coma and the doctors said I wouldn't wake up. But I did and the cancer was gone. If it wasn't for these eyes—" he took off his glasses to showcase his dazed eyes. "—no one would believe I ever had it."

"And suddenly you could heal people?" Dean spoke up.

"I discovered it afterward, yes," Roy confirmed as he put his glasses back on. "God's blessed me in many ways."

"His flock just swelled overnight," Sue Ann seemed more concern with Roy's popularity than the so-called miracles. "and this is just the beginning."

Dean nodded slowly, giving Sue Ann a suspicious look.

"Can I ask you a couple more questions?"

"Of course you can," Roy said pleasantly.

"Why did you pick me?" Julia wondered quietly. "Out of all the other sick people, why save me?"

Roy was quiet for a few seconds as he gathered his thoughts. "I knew that you were coming this morning, Julia Ruth," he finally said. "I just woke up and knew that you were gonna be in my tent today and the Lord wanted me to use my power to heal you."

Julia blanched, her eyes widening in shock.

"And when the Lord guided me to look into your heart, I could see why," Roy continued. "You have an important purpose in this life—a job to do that isn't finished. I see the same thing in you, too, Dean."

Dean wasn't expecting that. "You do?"

"Of course, I do," Roy confirmed. "Now, what was your other question, sweetheart?"

"I was wondering how you knew my middle name was Ruth."

"Well, like before I just knew," Roy answered. "God works in mysterious ways."

"Yes, he does," Julia nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you so much for your time."

Sue Ann escorted them out of the house, asking about her biblical knowledge as they went. Julia was just explaining that she was graduating with a double major of religion and linguistics when stepped out onto the porch and Layla and her mother happened be walking up the steps at the same time.

"Dean, Julia, hey," Layla greeted them kindly. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel better," Julia forced a smile, still feeling very conflicted about the whole thing.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked the blonde curiously.

Layla hesitated. "You know, my mom," she explained as her mother stepped past Julia and Dean to talk to Sue Ann. "She wanted to talk to the reverend."

"Layla!" Sue Ann called for the younger blonde.

"Yes," Layla joined her mother on the higher steps. "I'm here again."

"Well, I'm sorry, but Roy is resting," Sue Ann said apologetically. "He won't be seeing anyone else right now."

"Sue Ann, please," Layla's mother begged. "This is our sixth time, he's got to see us."

"Roy is well aware of Layla's situation," Sue Ann began patiently. "and he very much wants to help just as soon as the Lord allows. Have faith, Mrs. Rourke."

Sue Ann gave her one last smile and placed a supporting hand on Layla's shoulder because walking back into her house. Mrs. Rourke turned around to walk back down the steps, looking very disgruntled.

"Why are you still even here?" Mrs. Rourke asked, glaring at Julia. "You got what you wanted."

"Hey," Dean warned her at the same time as Layla sighed, "Mom, stop."

"No, Layla, this is too much," Mrs. Rourke snapped at her daughter. "We've been to every single service. If Roy would stop choosing these strangers—" she glared at Julia. "—over you... I just can't pray any harder."

Julia frowned, looking over at Layla in concern. "Layla, what's wrong?"

Layla inhaled sharply. "I have this thing..."

"It's a brain tumor," Mrs. Rourke elaborated when she paused. "It's inoperable. In six months, the doctors say—"

Layla cut her mother off, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Layla assured her.

"No, it isn't," Mrs. Rourke denied, turning back to Julia. "Why do you deserve to live more than my daughter?"

Julia couldn't help but wonder the same thing.

-

"You're not thinking about what Layla's mom said, right?"

Julia didn't reply to Dean right away, keeping her forehead pressed against the passenger window. How could she not think about what Mrs. Rourke said? It was a valid question, especially since her daughter was only supposed to live for six more months. Julia's life wasn't any more important than Layla's.

"You are, aren't you?" Dean's eyes left the road to look at her; she avoided his gaze. "Julia..."

"Well, she was right," she turned to him; he had looked back at the road but Julia was glad because she didn't want to get into a car accident or look back at her with those green eyes that would get her to spill her guts more than she already had.

She didn't like sharing her negative thoughts. And he was going to bother her about it, she was going to call him a hypocrite—he certainly didn't share what was going on in that head of his.

He didn't bother her about it, though. "You have your iPod?" when she nodded, held out an expectant hand. "Give it."

Julia gave him a strange look but dug it out of her purse, handing it over. He placed it on his thigh and, with one hand, dug into the cubby under the radio where Sam kept their iPod jack. He plugged everything in and kept his eyes on the road as he scrolled through her music.

She couldn't help but smile at the familiar piano intro. And then, when Dean opened his mouth to sing, she giggled.

"Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band..." he sung off tune with but he didn't care; he was doing this to cheer her up. He pointed at her as he continued, "Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man."

There was a stinging in Julia's eyes as she watched him sing loudly for her. She was so touched that he was doing this. Dean always sang along to his music but it was never this kind of music. And this song, her mom's favorite song...

"But, oh, how it feels so real, lying here with no one near, only you—sing along, Jules!" Dean's voice got louder as the music built up. "and you can hear me and I say softly, slowly...all together, now!"

"Hold me closer, tiny dancer!" Julia loudly joined in with him, her smile so large it hurt her mouth. "Count the headlights on the highway. Lay me down in sheets of linen. You had a busy day today..."

Her mood dropped when they got back to the motel and Abby and Sam told them what they found out about the guy who had the heart attack the day before.

"Marshall Hall died at four-seventeen," Abby said somberly.

Julia sighed and plopped down at the foot of Sam's bed. "The exact same time I was healed."

"Yeah."

"I put together a list of everyone Roy's healed—six people over the past year—and I cross-checked them with the local obits," Sam spoke up from behind his laptop. "Every time someone was healed, someone else died. And each time, the victim died of the same symptoms LeGrange was healing at the time."

"Someone's healed of cancer, someone dies of cancer?" Dean assumed.

Sam nodded. "Somehow, LeGrange is trading a life for another."

Julia wrinkled her nose, pressure building behind her eyes. Her stomach twisted nauseously. Marshall Hall died to save her. An innocent man was dead because of her. It was like she took a knife and stabbed him in the heart herself.

"You shouldn't have brought me here," she whispered thickly, wiping at her eyes before any tears could fall.

"We didn't know, Jules," Abby moved to sit by her, taking one of her hands. "We were just trying to save your life."

"An innocent man is dead because of me."

"Julia, the guy probably would've died anyway and someone else would have been healed," Sam tried to make her feel better; he didn't. "What I don't understand is how Roy is doing it. How is he trading a life for a life?"

"Oh, he's not doing it," Dean's voice was low in anger. "Something else is doing it for him."

Sam gave him a questioning look. "What do you mean?"

"Remember the old man you saw on stage, Jules?" when Dean looked at her, she nodded. "When you told me about it, I didn't want to believe it but deep down I knew."

"You knew what?" Abby wondered. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Think about it, Abby," Dean prompted her. "There's only one thing that can give and take life like that."

Abby inhaled sharply. "A reaper."

Dean nodded. "Exactly."

"You really think it's the Grim Reaper?" Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother. "Like, angel of death, collect your soul, the whole deal?"

"No, not the reaper, a reaper," Dean corrected him. "There's reaper law in pretty much every culture on Earth. They go by a hundred different names. It's possible that there's more than one of them."

"But J said she saw a dude in a suit," Sam reminded him.

"What, you think he should have been working the whole black-robe thing?"

"Sam, the clock stopped," Abby stated. "Reapers stop time and you can only see them when they're coming at you, which is why Julia could see it but not any of us."

"Maybe," Sam still wasn't convinced. He looked to Julia for help but she was staring down at her lap; he could tell by the faraway look in her hazel eyes that she wasn't listening.

"There's nothing else it could be, Sam," Dean said harshly as Julia focused back in. "The question is how is Roy controlling the damn thing?"

"What about that cross?" Julia suggested.

"The one with a circle around the top?" Sam asked; she nodded.

Dean gave them a confused look. "What?"

"There was a weird cross at the church," Sam explained as he pulled a pack of cards off the table, rifling through them. "I knew I had seen it before. Here."

He handed Dean a specific card. Dean looked it over and snorted. "A Tarot?"

"Let me see," Abby left her spot next to Julia to grab the card Dean was looking at. "Yeah, it makes sense. A Tarot dates back to the early Christian era when some priests were still using magic. A few of them veered into dark stuff—Necromancy, how to push death away, how to cause it..."

"So, Roy's using black magic to bind the reaper."

"If he is, he's riding the whirlwind," Sam took the card back from Abby. "It's like putting a dog leash on a Great White."

"Honestly, I don't think Roy's doing it," Julia spoke up, earning her three shocked looks.

Abby raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"When Dean and I went to talk to him, I could sense that he was telling the truth," Julia explained. "I think he truly believes that he's the one actually healing people."

"Okay," Sam knew to trust Julia when she spoke up about her abilities. "so, who's doing it?"

Julia looked over at Dean. "The one who seemed more worried about Roy's so-called flock."

Dean pressed his lips together. "Sue Ann."

"The wife?" Abby asked skeptically.

"Even when Roy and Julia were comparing bibles verses, she said only one thing," Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "and it was about Roy's popularity."

"She's got a self-important vibe," Julia added. "What if it's because she's picking people she thinks aren't moral?"

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "Could be."

"Okay, so we stop Sue Ann," Dean declared.

"How?"

"You know how," Dean answered Sam.

"Wait, what the hell are you talking about, Dean?" Sam said incredulously. "We can't kill Roy."

"I agree with Dean," Abby added her two cents. "She's playing God, deciding who lives and who dies. That's a monster in my book."

"We're not going to kill a human being!" Sam protested. "We do that and we're no better than she it."

"Okay, so we can't kill Sue Ann, we can't kill death," Dean sighed, pursing his lips in displeasure. "Any bright ideas, college boy?"

Sam gave Dean a dirty look but rose to the challenge. "Okay, if Sue Ann's using some kind of black spell on the reaper, we gotta figure out what it is and how to break it."

-

In the end, they stopped Sue Ann. The reaper was released from her hold and turned the tables back on her, killing her. The only downside of the whole thing was that Layla was just about to be healed and now she wouldn't at all. Finishing the case was bittersweet but in the end, they did the right thing. Sue Ann was playing God and she had needed to be stopped.

Now that everything was done, Abby was taking her leave from Julia and the Winchesters.

"Be careful," Julia pulled her sister into a hug as all four of them stood in the motel parking lot.

"You too," Abby kissed her forehead. "Don't let those boys get you into any more trouble."

"Hey, she does that all by herself," Dean spoke up, sending the sisters an innocent look. "She's a troublemaker."

"True."

"What? I am not!"

"Mmhm," Abby rolled her eyes and nudged Julia's shoulder. "See you in a few weeks?"

"Yeah," Julia confirmed. "Hey, what are you getting Levi? I haven't come up with anything."

"You know how he is," Abby rolled her eyes; their big brother was as serious as they come. He was quiet and he kept to himself, not having many other interests other than work or the gym. "but I'm paying for a year of his gym membership."

"Oh, that's good," Julia pouted, wishing that she would have come up with that. "Well, I'm sure I'll figure it out."

Abby nodded and then turned to Sam and Dean. "Sam, Dean, pleasure to see you two, as always. Take care of my baby sister."

"We will," Sam promised her with a smile. "Bye, Abby."

Abby winked at him, making Dean smirk at his brother, and then smiled at Julia one more time. "Love you, sis."

"Love you, too."

An hour later, in the backseat of the Impala, Julia fell into a deep sleep.

The four types flowers that had filled the field were gone. It was just a grassy field on a sunny day with her sitting in the middle. Julia looked up expectantly, waiting for her angel to make an appearance.

And he did.

"I told you, Julia Ruth. You are Chosen."

(Gif is not mine)

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Bluegrass-Chapter Four

                     A special thank you to @statell​ for your help and wisdom

Previous chapters at AO3

Chapter Four

Claire and Molly were hopping from one farm to another in Lexington when Claire announced she had to make one extra stop. They were done for the day and she filled Molly in on her date for the weekend.

“Chad Remington called out of the blue and asked me to dinner. High profile date, lots of press I’m sure. Chad gave me a one hundred dollar minimum to buy a dress. Will you help me, please?”

Molly looked confused and finally found her voice, “what about Dusty?”

“What about Dusty?”

“He would …”

“Dustin and I are best friends Molly, nothing more.”

Molly watched Claire’s eyes and saw compassion, maturity, and truth. “Okay, I didn’t know how you were together. So it’s like brother and sister then.”

“I don’t know about that, I never had either, or a Mother and Father. I don’t have anything to compare it to. I just know that Dusty put me first and for the first time in my life, someone knew I was in the world and cared about me. And I cared for him the same way. You watch, when we spy on him in the coming year, I will bet money he’s in love before his GPA is 4.0, the little brat. Let’s go”

Molly was young but she had a great eye for fashion from looking at hundreds of magazines. It was her guilty pleasure fueled by sitting in waiting rooms of salons, waiting for no one, consuming every page that the magazines offered. Claire tried so many dresses on but Molly scrunched up her nose. The saleswoman began shooting darts at the young woman, so she took over and looked through the evening wear pulling dresses as she went. She handed five dresses to Claire.

Claire’s eyes went wide as dress after dress fit perfectly, hugged her curves in the right places, and was fashionably short.

“Well young lady, now I have the opposite problem of having too many choices. What do you think?”

Molly pulled the best fitting dress and walked to the shoes, pulling a gorgeous heal with straps that exposed almost her entire foot. She grabbed a pair of silk stockings on the way to the register.

“Straighten your hair and put this in it.” She handed Claire a beautiful cubic zirconia hair clip that would sparkle against her dark hair.”

“Straighten my hair? Like how?”

“I’ll help if you want.”

“Yes, I think that would be really nice if you don’t mind.”

Once back in the truck, Molly got very quiet and seemed preoccupied with something troubling. She said goodbye to Claire and got into her car, but Claire stopped her. She leaned against her truck and looked down at Molly as she prepared to leave.

“Something is troubling you, Molly. I don’t want to impose but is there anything I can help you with?”

Molly locked her hands on the steering wheel and looked at her lap shaking her head. Claire waited, giving her the time to decide if she wanted to speak her trouble or not.

“Last night I was harassed by the police. They said I would be arrested if they caught me again. I don’t want to go to jail but I probably will because I have nowhere else to go.”

Claire watched the tears streak down Molly’s sad face, and she was ready to offer this sweet girl whatever she needed.

“Whatever it is Molly, I will help you, I promise.”

“I lost my job a month ago and I have no more savings, so I had to leave my apartment.” She blushed crimson talking about her poverty. “Can I park here tonight and sleep, so the police will leave me alone? I can tell them you allowed me to stay here. I won’t be back until after dark, I promise.”

Claire pulled the young girl out of her car and helped her up the stairs. “Molly, are you an orphan too?”

Molly looked at Claire through her bleary eyes, “no I have an aunt and older brother but neither of them can take me.”

“How old are you?”

“Eighteen. I’m too old to collect the welfare that kept me going my last year of high school, my church helped as well.”

“Did your parents die sweetheart?”

“I don’t know. They just left and never came back.”

Molly cried in earnest, apologizing to Claire as she was led into the house.

“I won’t hear another word about it, young lady. You need to bring your things in. You can wash what you want and take the extra room. See? No one has ever used this room, so it has been wasted. If you sleep in here it will not be an empty room anymore. I hate empty rooms, don’t you?”

Molly looked around and Claire could see her mind working on being a burden.

“So, what I need you to do is get your things from your car while I make dinner. I have needed a roommate, but I don’t know anyone in Kentucky. I would like a roommate so will you stay with me?”

Claire had talked so fast Molly hardly had time to formulate an answer and her bulldozing boss was suddenly her benefactor, offering her safety from the cold dark night.

Claire was pushing a warm plate of food at Molly and bringing in blankets and pillows. She sat across from Molly and ate from her plate in silence, watching the poor young woman inhale her dinner.

“Molly, I won’t accept any money from you, but I need your assurance you will be honest with me about what you need.”

Molly grabbed her hand and struggled with her tears, shaking her head yes.

“That is good enough for me dearest. Get some sleep, and there is more on the stove if you are still hungry. Good night love.”

Claire was intimately familiar with orphan’s pride. Many households took her in and fed her, gave her a room, and reminded her of their generosity every day after that. Uncle Lamb died and left her alone at sixteen with no one to care for her. It was the loneliest time of her life, more so than the eleven years she spent traveling the world with Uncle Lamb because then, she always had him.

Claire retired to her room and prayed that Molly would have the fortitude to give this a chance. This was a match that needed to happen, and she was the best advocate for this young girl, because she understood what she was going through.

The food was left on the stove to encourage Molly to eat. Claire heard noises in the kitchen and relaxed knowing she was fed and warm. Before she made it to her patio for Yoga the next morning, she noticed her sparkling kitchen and all dishes put neatly away. This was going to be easy she thought as she pressed into her first pose.

As the week progressed, Molly made fewer mistakes and pulled a small notebook out of her pocket each time Claire asked about the treatments. Molly would look at her notes and Claire would write furiously as she worked through the files. Claire let several monumental wins go by without noticing them because she was locked in her head.

She was so excited about seeing Chad at the end of the week she hardly noticed anything. The ripping of paper brought her mind back and she watched Molly deftly pull a syringe out of the sterile sleeve and twist a needle on before plunging it into a bottle of Penicillin. Claire walked over and looked at the medicines, bandages, fecal collection cups, and gloves she would use for treatments this morning.

“Wow Molly, you are certainly getting the hang of things. I am very impressed. Claire leaned back on a stall as she talked bringing the horse forward to nibble her hair. She reached up and ran her hand down his cheek hearing him complaining of pain. Claire opened the stall door and looked at a trough full of food from earlier in the day. He wasn’t eating, his head was hot, and his mouth hurt, according to him. Claire asked to look in his mouth and he finally obliged. There was a large abscess on the roof of his mouth. Most likely from a bur in his hay.

“Oooh, that looks nasty my friend. Molly, I must find the barn manager and see if they want me to lance it today. Be right back.”

Claire came back with several men who all crowded into the stall to help hold the suffering horse. Claire took the halter from one of them because she would be far gentler getting it on. She asked Molly to watch the men, and how they held the horse still.

The horse was not happy with the searing pain in his mouth, but Claire had it lanced quickly and flushed with peroxide. She could tell the pain was improving when she put her hands on his cheeks. A stiff shot of antibiotics and they were on to the next horse.

Molly wanted to know how Claire understood to look in his mouth but decided not to ask. She was still fresh to Claire’s treatments and would know her ways soon enough.

They quit early on Friday so Claire would have plenty of time to freak out before Chad picked her up. On the patio, a small cat cowered in the corner and they almost missed it. Claire picked it up and stroked it while it sat in her lap. Molly was bringing groceries into the house when Claire got up and asked her to drive the cat home.

Molly followed where Claire directed, and they watched the cat run toward a house. Claire followed, rang the doorbell, and when the door opened the cat ran inside.

“Sorry to bother you, your cat was lost and crying so we brought it home. Have a nice day.”

Since the homeowner did not know how far they had come, she figured Claire had seen the cat in her yard at some point. Molly, on the other hand, could not understand how Claire could know, so she asked her and got her mind blown.

“You, you hear them tell you things? Is that what you said? Cat’s don’t talk so how do you hear them?”

Claire did her best to explain the images she sees and using the cat as an example, she pointed to the clumps of Black Oak trees and told her she saw the cat climbing one of them.

“I have only seen these trees here, so I thought it was a good start. We got lucky.”

Molly was quiet. Another doubter, she thought. This was something she was used to, and silence was always Dustin’s response to her truth. She dropped it and turned her thoughts to Chad, not a hard thing to do because she found him very attractive. The only man who could top his looks was Jamie Fraser, she thought. Now he was off the charts. She thought about Jamie for the rest of the trip home and wondered why he hooked up with such an awful woman.

Later, Claire and Molly sat on the porch watching the sky turn its Kentucky colors. The sunset was distracting enough to let Chad slip up the stairs and watch the women for several minutes. Actually, Molly got a passing glance, but Claire was studied from her feet to the top of her head.

“I’m a bit speechless. I’ve never seen you out of your scrubs.”

Claire stood up quickly, shocked to hear his voice right behind them. She introduced Chad to Molly, smiling the whole time, so excited to be going somewhere fun. Molly waived and sighed at the charming Chad Remington. When he smiled at her she almost swooned. He was a beautiful and elegant man. She forced herself to go inside because staring after them was just plain weird.

Chad admired Claire’s shiny straight hair and the little black dress, long legs and killer shoes as they walked through the restaurant to their table. The conversation seemed to have no end as they got lost in the others back story. Chad’s brother came to their table and sat with them for a while. When the food reporter for the local news wanted to interview him, he suggested an open place right next to their table. While that was going on, Claire turned her attention back to her handsome date.

After dinner, they walked the downtown area because there was so much more to talk about.

“You have a hopeful for the road to the Kentucky Derby? What exactly does that mean?”

“Claire, I’m surprised you don’t know the term since you doctor these horses every day.” He was teasing her.

“No one’s ever had the time to tell me. Now might be a good time.”

“All the breeding farms you visit in this area are working toward one thing, to drop a foal that will be the next Secretariat. When I decide on my breeding matches for the year, it’s a bit like a mad scientist mixing genetic material to produce a super runner. At least that’s what it feels like to me. Once in a great while, someone produces a foal that was born to run faster than all the others and it’s like magic watching him win race after race.

“So the road to the Kentucky Derby?”

“The road is a group of races decided on by Churchill Downs. They are stakes-grade, minimum one mile, and the top four finishers win points. The second phase of the road to the derby is called the super six. Stakes-grade, tough races, with fierce competition because so many horses drop out during the first phase. Owners can nominate their horse for the Triple Crown as early as January. Right before the race, the top twenty point winners are chosen to run for the roses. Just getting to that point is a star in your breeder crown that will never dim, it’s a permanent elevation to elite breeder. It’s all I’ve ever aspired to, producing one of those twenty horses.”

“My preference for racehorses was a carryover from my Uncle who raised me. He loved the sport and talked about it constantly. He spoke of the Triple Crown winner Secretariat with such reverence I would giggle sometimes. He was quite a horse according to my uncle.”

Chad stopped walking and pressed Claire to the wall of a large retail building. His hands were on either side of her head and she was thrilled to the bone because he might kiss her any minute now.

“Claire, I really like you, really like you. Would you mind if I kissed you?”

“I do not mind, that would nice.”

She barely had time to finish her sentence when his lips pressed rather hard on hers, flatly, and unmoving, then released her.

“Well, that was something awful I think. I just rushed it, and I am very rusty. Can I try again?”

“Of course.”

This time, he looked into her eyes and took his time getting to her lips which Claire found very exciting. They kissed three more times and each time was better.

“My God Claire, did you feel the earth move a bit when we kissed?”

“Umm, no actually.”

“Me neither. I think that is okay because it will happen next time. Claire, it’s one o’clock in the morning already. Let me get you home.”

They kissed once more at Claire’s door and she waved goodbye. She was confused because the last time she kissed like that was at a campus party with someone she didn’t know. In fact, she ended up taking that great kisser home for the night, and it was rather good if she remembered correctly. It made no sense that Chad, a handsome breeder who was easy to talk to, initiated kisses that did nothing for her.

The next day, Jamie was running through the kitchen grabbing some fruit before leaving to watch Nick with the yearlings.

“Come here Jamie, there’s your strumpet, in the paper, laughing with her nose in the air. Come here!”

Jamie looked over Isobel’s shoulder and sure enough, Claire, looking fabulous with…Chad Remington! What the hell was this all about he wondered. Most people assumed Chad was gay so how did she end up at dinner with him? He bit into the apple and left Isobel muttering under her breath.

“Jamie! Glad you could make it. I refuse to say I told you so by the way. Let’s have a look at your magic colt.”

Jamie could see three colts being lunged by a handler who was clicking up their speed, while Midnight Runner was stationary looking at the weird man in the middle without a clue what to do. When his handler used the big whip to get the horse moving, the colt looked at his backside where he heard the whip and then back at the handler.

“Tell the handler to make contact with the whip. Give the lad some incentive to run away at least.”

Nick called out and the handler flicked the whip on the colt’s ass making him jump and glare at the man.

“He still doesna get it. I know someone who might help. I’ll get her here today, but chances are he won’t run. Just like ye told me, Nick.”

Claire clicked off from Jamie’s call feeling weird butterflies in her stomach. She had a vague recollection of his handsome face and a solid memory of what she saw on the inside of the man. It took her back to that day. She didn’t hate Jamie Fraser, and it sounded like he really needed her help. She made two calls to reschedule and told Molly they were going to Highland Brothers for the rest of the day.

Molly had ceased to be impressed by the large breeding complexes, but her eyes were darting all over the compound as she took it all in. Jamie waved them on to the premises.

So he is waiting for me this time. What on earth could be so wrong, she wondered.

Jamie pulled her aside right away so Molly would not hear him. He looked like he was chewing glass when he spoke to her.

“This colt is special, Doctor Beauchamp, I need for him to at least make a showing at the two-year-old races. It could finish me in Kentucky if he refuses to try. Understand? Ye said ye could understand them so I’m askin ye lass, please can ye find out what’s wrong wi’him?”

Claire looked out at the training arenas where three other horses were running on the lunge line and the colt was chewing on the handler’s hair.

“Oh dear, that is a problem. Can you leave him in the ring alone and let me take a look? I need Molly to observe him for me. From what I’m getting from him already, you, Mister Fraser must stay out of his sight. Okay?”

Claire walked into the arena and smiled at this enormous, but childlike colt who trotted to her, so happy to smell and taste someone new. She felt the presence of an innocent who didn’t understand what he was supposed to do. When Claire put her hands on his cheeks, she showed him he was supposed to run, as fast as he could.

He asked why. Why do I run? Is there a treat when I get there? Are you going to run too?

Claire laughed at the similarities between the colt’s thought process and a small child. She told him to get ready to run and called for Molly to get the sugar cubes from the truck. Molly came back to the rail and watched her crazy boss line up to race the horse. She constantly touched his face and they finally lined up together. Claire took off running as fast as she could. The colt stood and watched her but then jolted into a gallop, ears back, butt muscles exploding and passed her like a lightning bolt. He looked around for her, confused again, but saw her big smile and arms held out wide so he ran to her.

Molly saw the beast running right for Claire and she jumped the rail to help her. The colt came to a dead stop a foot from Claire, and Molly could swear he looked happy like this was a game. Claire’s arms were around his neck and she laughed. The colt backed up and reared on his hind legs like a kid saying, “watch this!”

Molly sat on the rail for the next two hours as Claire led the colt through a series of gates and games that seemed to heighten his interest and fun. Jamie pulled Nick to his hiding place to watch the transformation in the colt and the crazy vet that was making it happen.

“Why are we hiding Jamie?”

“The lad thinks I’m his mother and just wants hugs when I’m around.”

“What the hell? I swear it looks like she is speaking to him and he is listening!”

“Somethin like that Nick, she has a way to communicate wi’em. You should see him run, like the wind he is!”

The men watched the duo in fascination as they both lined up to race again. Molly was laughing as she watched Claire seem to taunt him into racing.

“Molly, if you would do the honors of saying bang please.”

“Bang!”

Claire took off as fast as she could run, and the colt watched her until he again seemed to get hit with electricity making him bolt into his own race. Claire knew he could sense her emotion, so she concentrated on winning, at whatever cost, she wanted to beat him.

The colt passed her going so fast she could hardly see him and she smiled triumphantly as he ran his heart out, right up to Molly to get his treat. Then he ran right at Claire again to bask in the glory of being the winner. He trotted around her as she told him ‘I want to win!” and he taunted back ‘never! I am the winner!’

Claire was still panting and holding her hip but kept up the teasing wanting to implant the love of winning.

“Okay big guy, race you to Molly for the rest of the sugar cubes!”

Claire ran with all her worn-out might as the colt blasted past her filling her head with Ha-ha, Ha-ha.

“Cheeky little bastard.”

Molly looked up as the colt appeared to be a beast of a horse running dead for her. She was so scared she fell backward, right into the arms of Jamie Fraser. She looked up at him and thought she had died and gone to heaven. She smiled up at him and saw their wedding, and children, and a glorious future together.

“Ye alright lass? Ye bumped ye head on the rail.”

Claire was running for Molly, ready to pass out but she opened her arms to hug her across the rail.

“Jesus Christ, Molly. Are you alright?”

Molly shook her head and blushed with embarrassment as Jamie set her on her feet. Nick had joined Claire in the arena and gave the colt some love while he praised her for making him run. Jamie looked at Claire and could see the gears working in her mind. He decided then and there that his prized colt, his road to the Kentucky Derby, and his business, were now the domain of one Claire Beauchamp because if there was a way, only she knew it.

Molly was packing up to leave and Nick had taken the colt back to his stall. Jamie noticed Claire was relaxed around him with none of the flirting jitters most women get from his presence. He found it energizing and delightful like he could be charming without stoking an unwanted forest fire.

“He won’t get the idea from this in one-day Mister Fraser. I had to goad him into running. Without the correct motivation, he won’t run or at least not his hardest. Do you want me to come back?”

“Aye. I know ye have a practice to run so whatever time you give me will be much appreciated and I will pay ye well lass.”

Claire smiled at this incredibly handsome man. “Three times a week for as long as I can.” She started walking to her truck and Molly.

“How ye gettin along wi’out Dusty?”

“It’s hard but Molly is doing great.” Another brilliant smile for the Scott and she climbed into the passenger seat.

“How do you do it Claire? Dusty would have walked off the earth for you, Chad wants to date you, and Jamie looked like he would do a backflip if you asked him to.”

“Claire laughed tiredly. Dustin is very special, Chad-isn’t, and Jamie needs me more than he needs air right now. It isn’t about me, it’s the circumstance we all find ourselves in.”

“Jamie is so good looking, is he married?”

“Almost. I thought you liked Chad!”

“Not anymore.”

Claire looked at her dreamy-eyed assistant as they drove off, and laughed before diving into files to update her notes for the day.