#he really is never going to let supernatural die

[saphhicwitchbitch]

Oooooh so that's what he has done.

"I'm the one who fucked you hard and raised you from perdition." -Misha Collins, 2024

"If the CW wasn't so homophobic, Dean and Cas would've been balls deep for sure." -Misha Collins, 2024

April, 2024

[s0fter-sin]

what up it's been 12 years and i'm still pissed there was no consequence to dean being in constant survival mode and fighting 24/7 in purgatory

what do you mean he didn't become a god at hand to hand combat? what do you mean he could still be jumped by random ass demons?

he was - at best - in a constant in-between state meaning he didn't get hungry or tired but that also means he didn’t sleep for a year and was constantly being hunted by hundreds of thousands of monsters that want to eat him specifically, while actively searching for cas

OR he was in a completely normal state meaning he was constantly fighting starvation and exhaustion while all of that was still happening!! it's not like there's much to scavenge in monster heaven!! he would’ve been on the verge of dying for a year!!!

then he comes back and he's just exactly the same? the same level of fighting skill he's always had? if not slightly worse for some reason?? what do you mean he couldn't kill anything he came across with his eyes closed when it's what he's been doing EVERY DAY FOR A YEAR???

it's always been one of the flaws of a show running for so long that after like s6 they never seemed to be getting better? they still got the shit kicked out of them by demons and ghosts and what have you and instead of finding obscure rituals they just got A Better Gun™️

both sam and dean are the peak of what hunters can be; they've been trained to hunt and kill things bigger and stronger than them since they were children, so what do you mean they still get the shit kicked out of them so often? was it just to show how strong monsters are? that even with their level of experience and skill, they're still outmatched?

(or do you just need a way to keep up the tension cough cough what who said that)

but you can't have dean who's been trained to be an elite soldier Since He Was Four Years Old go into a 360 combat scenario for an entire year - a good chunk of which he was completely by himself - then say he didn't improve his combat skills At All

and not even just combat, his senses would've been off the charts!! there was nothing but ambient forest noise and growling, his hearing would've gotten so sharp, it was darker so his night vision would ve been insane and he should've been able to feel a monster coming a mile away after constantly being on guard

post purgatory dean had the opportunity to be a completely different beast to anything we'd ever seen before, to be a completely different kind of traumatised from all of his other trauma

hell broke him but purgatory should've broken and rebuilt him into something Terrifying

[ladystoneboobs]

so, one aspect of catelyn which i think is underrated (certainly the biggest adaptation loss which nobody talks about) is her, let's say superstitiousness, or better yet, let's call it genre-savviness, being one of the few adult characters open to magic and the supernatural in this fantasy world. we first meet her in the godswood, home of gods which are not truly hers, yet she is still very aware of their power. when she and ned talk of the deserter he killed, he hopes he won't have to go with the nw to deal with mance rayder, but she has even more fear of that idea bc there are worse things beyond the wall than just wildlings. ned scoffs and says she's been listening to old nan too much, but she's right. we already know from the prologue that she's right! and here she is, understanding the genre of their world better than her husband, who was actually born and spent his earliest years in this northern land of deep magic, listening to old nan's stories. same with the direwolves, where she was uncomfortable with them at first, but later believed in them as guardians from the old gods even after robb had lost his own faith. and once again, we know she's right even if she doesn't know the evidence to back up her instincts, bc summer and shaggydog did not fail bran and rickon and robb was almost certainly a warg like his brothers. (perhaps making it more fitting that she's the one brought back as a fantasy vengeance monster, not ned and robb, the most unbelieving dead starks.) and in her 2nd agot chapter, everyone focuses on her ambition in wanting ned to agree to the hand job (pun intended) and sansa's betrothal, and while she does recognize the value of their daughter being a future queen more than ned does, that's only her stated argument bc she thinks it's rational enough for ned to listen to. (if ambitious matchmaking were as important to her as to her father she never would have made those frey betrothals fandom loves to blame her for.) in her own head there's a deeper urge driving her. she keeps thinking of the dead direwolf with antlers in its throat, an omen which filled her with dread from the first she heard of it, before robert's arrival, and thinking of it again is what makes her desperate to convince ned not to refuse robert. she had to make him see. and really, she's not wrong, as jon snow would say. the dead direwolf was an omen of ned and robert getting each other killed. it's just one of those misread portents, with no way of knowing the danger to ned was in his loyalty to robert, not conflict with him. BUT the next time she's dealing with baratheons, she knows exactly what she's talking about. it's catelyn, not brienne, who sees the shadow slaying renly, and explains that it was stannis who did that through some dark magic. with no way of knowing how it was achieved and no prior expectation that such a thing were ever possible, she realizes with no hestitation that stannis was guilty and that his red witch was capable of pulling this off somehow. really, the only instinct of the supernatural she's wholly wrong about is her insistence that varys gathered his knowledge through some dark enchantment. however, though that might offend varys, given his own personal experience with a sorcerer, i'd say it's a reasonable assumption without knowing the dude had children moving through walls everywhere like oversized rodents. and imo it just shows she had a healthy respect and awe for varys's power which most other characters lack.

oh, oh, and let's not forget that she also believed in the curse of harrenhal, from her own childhood and the stories old nan told her kids. "and every house that held Harrenhal since had come to misfortune. Strong it might be, but it was a dark place, and cursed. 'I would not have Robb fight a battle in the shadow of that keep,' Catelyn admitted." sure, that wasn't enough to save robb, but he did not die from the curse of harrenhal. that doom was meant for his enemies from tywin lannister to roose bolton.

[athenamikaelson]

Klaus Mikaelson x Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Pt. 11

Word Count- 3.8k

Warnings- Mentions of Suicide(Damon trying to die because of his wolf bite), swearing, death, blood, gun/gun-shot wounds, smaller chapter but big things happening cliffhanger ending

“Yes, Elena. Once again, I’m fine. I have to go run an errand and then I’ll see you guys at the square. OK? Toodles!”

I quickly hung up my phone, just in case Elena decided to ask what errand I was running. How the hell am I supposed to tell her I’m going to try to talk a dying Damon Salvatore off the ledge?

It’s been two days since Demon dropped the bomb that he was dying and then disappeared. He hasn’t answered my calls and whenever I ask Stefan about him he says “I’m working on it.” Not well enough, clearly, because the Bunny Eater called me 30 minutes ago telling me Damon just tried lighting himself on fire and he needs my help talking him down. I’m not sure why I’m the one he called for this since I’ve heard Damon on more than one occasion say he’d rather die than listen to me speak. 

Damon and Stefan have made me keep quiet about this, so no one else but us three knows. Which is why I fibbed a bit on my phone call with Elena. I’m not entirely on board with keeping this a secret. What do the Salvatores think is going to happen when the werewolf bite kills Damon? Just tell everyone Damon went upstate to a farm, just like what parents tell their children when their turtles or dogs die.

Although Damon and I have had our differences, I can admit the thought of him dying doesn’t sit well with me. Especially since he got bit trying to stop the ritual. Even though it didn’t stop it, it did save Tyler and Caroline. Who I guess was replaced by that bitch Jules and some random vampire Klaus had in his back pocket. 

I take a deep breath as I exit my car and walk up to the front door of the Salvatore house. I don’t bother knocking since everyone kind of just lets themselves in when it comes to this place. I’m about to call out for Stefan but within a moment he’s flashed in front of me. 

“Oh good lord,” I clutch my chest in surprise. At this Stefan’s eyes widen and he reaches out to me.

“I’m sorry, Y/n! Is it your heart again? Do you need anything? Here take some of my blood,” Stefan frantically says.

I put both of my hands up and shake them, “Stefan calm down dude, okay? I’m good, you just scared me. I’ve got to start getting you vamps little bells to wear around your necks.”

Stefan slightly laughs but I can still see the weariness in his eyes.

“Really Stefana, I’m good.”

Stefan sighs and nods, “Sorry, I just…with everything going on I’m just…,” Stefan rubs his hand over his face and now I can clearly see the exhaustion and sadness on it. 

I take a step closer and wrap my arms around him in a hug, “It’ll be ok, we’ll figure it out, alright?”

Stefan doesn’t say anything but I feel him nod as he wraps his arms around me tighter as if me hugging him is the only thing keeping him grounded. And after seeing his older brother trying to light himself on fire, it might just be. 

After another moment Stefan releases me and smiles at me but it doesn't reach up all the way. 

“He’s down here,” He says and I follow him down to where Elijah was when he was daggered. 

At the thought of the Original my heart sinks. It’s been three days since I’ve seen or heard from him. Each time I hear my phone ring a small part of me expects it to be him with his stupid posh accent telling me he’s sorry for ghosting me, but every time I answer it’s never him. I’ve tried to distract myself with hanging out with the girls, or Theo, and even the occasional phone call with Jenna who talks to me a lot now about the supernatural since we both learned about it recently. Bonnie and I have also been going through her deceased Gram’s grimoires and things to see if we can find anything on why my chest bled and then magically healed itself, but nothing comes up.  It’s disheartening but Bonnie says she won’t stop searching until she’s found the reason. Our time together has made me realize just how good of a friend Bonnie is. She’s loyal and kind and she’d fight for her friends until her dying breath. Which is sadly something she has already done once. I really like hanging out with her and her teaching me more about her world. I may not understand much about witches but it’s nice to see how excited she gets when she talks about it. 

“Are you going to be good down here by yourself,” Stefan leans down to whisper to me.

“What,” I question now realizing he’s been talking this entire time. 

“I have to go to the square to go speak to Elena but after I’ll be back. Just whatever he says, don’t let him out. Ric should be here soon too. He can take your place when he gets here.”

I do a soldier’s salute and he rolls his eyes as he walks back upstairs. Leaving me and Grumpy down here by ourselves. The door that separates us is big and wooden with a small window that has three metal bars. I look through and frown when I see Damon scrunched up, sitting on the far side of the room. 

“Are you going to eat me if I come in?”

“Drinking your blood would be a fate worse than death,” Damon’s scratchy voice speaks up after a moment. 

I roll my eyes as I unlock the door and push it open, I quickly make my way inside and close it. I lean against the door and cross my arms as I look at the dying vampire in front of me. 

“Stefan really thought you of all people would be the one to talk me off the ledge,” Damon grunts out as he puts his head up to look at me. 

“That’s exactly what I said. I told him you’d be more likely to do it again after hearing me speak,” I laugh out.

Damon’s upper lip twitches for a moment and he lets out a strangled laugh, “You’re not wrong. 

We’re both quiet for a moment before Damon speaks up again, “I’m going to die.”

I take a deep breath and sit down against the door mirroring Damon, “At the moment, yes you are.”

Damon raises an eyebrow at me, “So you’re not going to fill me with fairy tales about some special cure and that by tomorrow I’ll be fresh as a daisy?”

I shrug my shoulders, “Is that what you want me to do?”

Damon stares at me for a moment and then shakes his head, “No, I don’t.”

“Alright then. Works for me. You know, Stefan called me to try to talk you down because he thinks what you did was crazy. But… I understand why you did it.”

This captures Damon’s attention as he stares questioningly at me, “You do?”

I nod as I play with a loose thread on my shirt, “Ya. You’re scared. And in pain. You think this is the only way out, but it isn’t. And I’m not saying that because of some magical cure. I’m saying that because you still have time left to say your goodbyes and to be with those who actually care about you. Even though you’re an actual hellspawn. I know that this is scary, you’ve been alive for over a century and now you’re facing mortality for the first time in years. I would be scared too.”

Damon’s jaw clenches and for a moment I think he’s mad but when I see him turn his head to stare at the wall next to him I realize he’s trying to hide his emotions. 

“Damon you can stare at that wall all you’d like but I meant what I said.”

At the sound of footsteps, I stand up. 

“Ric’s here. Try not to be such an ass to him. You’re kind of like his only friend,” When he doesn’t make any noise about my joke I frown and start to unlatch the door, “I’m glad I met you, Damon. I don’t tell a lot of people that, but it’s true. Thanks for bringing out a fire in me I didn’t know I had.”

Damon says nothing and I quickly wipe a stray tear from my face as I open the door.

“I’m glad I met you too, Y/N. Even though you’re a pain in the ass,” I turn and make eye contact with Damon, and even though the room is dark, I swear I can see small tears building in his blue eyes, “I don’t believe in next lives or whatever…but if they somehow exist, I wouldn’t mind meeting you again in that one, Pukey.”

I let out a small sob as I run over to the seated man and throw my arms over him. He lets out a grunt of surprise and after a moment he wraps his arms around me and I can feel the dampness from his tears on my shirt.

“If you tell anyone about this I’ll kill you,” He tries to threaten but his voice comes out strained so it doesn’t hold much punch.

“Ya whatever, Demon.”

—

It’s night by the time I get to the square for whatever movie night the town’s having. Elena asked me to come earlier since she says everyone needs a break from all the chaos that has happened. I’m not excited to see how she’s going to react to the news about Damon. But for now, I’m grabbing my fluffy blanket and walking towards my friends and watching this stupid movie.

Jenna, Jeremy, Bonnie, and Caroline all sit together talking as I walk up behind them. 

“Hey guys,” I say and they all spin around to look at me. Bonnie and Jenna both send me warm smiles and waves, Caroline hops up and guides me over to the group talking my ear off already, and Jeremy tries to send me a smile but that dude looks like he would rather be anywhere else. 

“What errand took you so long,” Caroline questions.

“Oh, Theo just needed some help bringing back his football gear and stuff. I guess the coach has been bothering him to get it back for weeks since the season ended,” I say which isn’t a total lie since I did do that after leaving the Salvatores.

“How is Theo,” Jeremy asks. 

Ever since the funeral Jeremy and Theo have been gaming together. When I asked Theo about it,  he said he was doing it out of pity and that someone as cool as him wouldn’t hang out with an emo like Jeremy. But after passing by Theo’s room and hearing him and Jeremy laugh and make fun of each other over call, I don’t think Theo is really doing this out of pity anymore. After moving here and with everything that has happened with our parents it’s been hard for Theo to make friends. Even though he says otherwise. I know he has people to hang out with at school, but it’s all brainless jocks who probably don’t even care to know my brother’s favorite color. He needs a good friend like Jeremy in his life. 

“Theo’s good. Even though he was pissy this morning because he says you cheated last night,” I admit to him as I sit down next to Jenna and Caroline. 

Jeremy shoots me a look of disbelief, “I did not cheat! That jerk! He’s the one who cheated,” Jeremy lifts up his phone and starts angrily texting someone. A someone, who I’m guessing is my brother.

I look around noticing the absence of my best friend, “Where’s Elena?”

They all look at each other wearily before Bonnie grabs my hand, “You might want to prepare yourself for this.”

I look at her confused for a moment and whisper, “Is this about the Damon thing?”

“You knew?!’’

“What?”

“Excuse me?”

“Bro!”

They all yell out and I raise my hands in surrender, “Hey! Stefana and Demon made me keep quiet. They didn’t want to stress anyone else out more.”

“How long have you known,” Caroline asks me and I grimace, “Like… since John’s funeral.”

“Y/N!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! It just wasn’t my place to say.”

They think about this for a moment before nodding.

“Elena went to go talk to Damon and Stefan is off trying to find a cure,” Bonnie says.

“Let’s hope he finds one in time.”

We all quiet down after a moment and go back to watching the movie, but 5 minutes later I feel a tap on my right shoulder.

I shoot Jenna a questioning look as she leans down to whisper to me, “Anything from Elijah?”

I just send her a small shake of my head and she returns it with a comforting smile and a squeeze to my shoulder, “His loss then.”

Over the past few days of Jenna and I talking about the supernatural, we’ve also been chatting about other things like school and relationships. It took me a while to open up but after I did I brought up Elijah. Talking to Jenna about Elijah, and everything that’s happened with him has actually made me feel somewhat better. Jenna’s been more of a mother figure to me these past three days than my own mother has in almost 18 years. 

Out of the corner of my eye, Jeremy quickly stands up, capturing all of our attention. 

He hangs up the phone and turns back to us with a nervous look, “Damon escaped and Elena wasn’t there yet so Ric thinks he’s coming here to see her. Ric says the bite is making him hallucinate so he’s not himself right now.”

“Fantastic,” I mutter to myself and Jenna slightly elbows me and shoots me a disapproving look. 

“If Damon is off the rails, there is nothing you can do to stop him. Let us take care of it,” Bonnie gestures towards herself, and Caroline and I want to groan at this. It’s really starting to piss me off how the supernaturals keep pushing us humans away every time we want to help. Just because we don’t have super strength or heal within a split second doesn’t mean we’re useless.  

“You keep doing this! You left me behind before, and guess what, Elena was still killed,” Jeremy exclaims to his girlfriend, “I’m going to find my sister. You go ahead and try to stop me. Y/N, Jenna, you with me?” 

Jenna instantly nods and I shoot a look at Bonnie and Caroline before walking towards Jeremy, “Let’s go.”

—

“There he is!” 

I follow behind Jeremy as we see a wounded Damon staring off into space. Jenna left a while ago to go find Ric, leaving Little Gilbert and I to try to find Elena. “Damon,” Jeremy tries catching the attention of the delusional vamp and I watch with caution. 

“Where’s Elena? I need to see Elena now,” He frantically says and I send him a smile as Jeremy walks closer to him.

“Hey, let’s get you out of here first, alright,” Jeremy grabs Damon, who instantly falls into his arms. I go to the vampire’s other side and grab his arms trying to help Jeremy with the deadweight. 

After a bunch of odd stares and murmurs from passersby, we finally get Damon through the crowd and into the empty Grill.

Jeremy drops Damon off at a table and goes to tell Ric where we are. I’m still holding onto Damon's arm as I watch Jere, but turn around when I feel Damon do the same. And I freeze.

“Y/n, move I don’t want to hurt you,” Sheriff Forbes stands in front of us holding her gun and pointing at Damon. 

I go to try to reason to her but Damon flashes away, spooking Liz and all I hear is the sound of a gun and a piercing in my left arm. 

“Oh god,” Liz looks at me for a moment in shock but when she looks behind me her features go straight to fear. 

A strangled sob escapes my mouth as I watch Jeremy fall to the floor, his once-grey shirt turning red, as blood spills from his chest. 

“What the hell did you do,” I scream at Liz as I run over to Jeremy with tears in my eyes.

 I strip off my sweatshirt and place it over his bleeding chest.

“Come on Jeremy, you’re going to be alright,” I sob, “You’re going to be alright Jere,”

Another sob comes from my mouth as Jeremy’s shaking hand grabs mine for comfort. 

“I know this hurts but I have to keep pressure on it, okay. You’re going to be just fine.”

I can hear Liz call for paramedics as she tries to move my hands so she can hold down the sweatshirt.

“Don’t you dare,” I snarl at her and she sits back.

“Jeremy…Hey! Jere,” I shake my head as he closes his eyes. 

Bonnie and Caroline rush up to us and Caroline gently sets me back so she can try to help Jeremy. I sit there with silent sobs as I watch Bonnie tell Caroline that Jeremy’s ring won't bring him back since the sheriff is human. 

Caroline bites into her wrist and places it onto Jeremy’s mouth, “Go on, Jeremy. Drink.”

“What are you doing,” The sheriff questions her daughter even though she is not the one who should be speaking at all right now. 

“I’m helping him.”

I sit there with tears in my eyes as Jeremy doesn’t wake up and I know it’s because he’s dead. The others must realize this too because they all sit back with sobs of their own. The sound of a door opening captures my attention and I look up to see Ric and Jenna staring over at us.

“Bonnie what’s wrong,” Ric asks as he and Jenna run over to us. As soon as they see Jeremy though they halt. Jenna instantly falls to her knees crying and I crawl over to her ignoring the shooting pain in my arm. I grab her into my arms and she instantly latches to me and sobs into my shoulder. 

“I know what I need to do,” Bonnie says aloud as she stands, “I need you to grab him. T-Take him with us.”

“No, no, no, no. You can’t move him. This is a crime scene,” Liz tries denying which has me wanting to smack her. Jeremy’s dead all because of a prejudice she has.

“Mom, just let them go,” Caroline tells her mother and Liz stands up so Ric can grab Jeremy’s body.

“Okay. Alright, come here, buddy. I got you,” Ric says and I hug Jenna tighter.

—-

Bonnie sits in front of us chanting over Jeremy’s body. Candles around us burn hotter as Bonnie shakes her head, “No.”

“What? What is it,” Ric asks.

“They’re angry at me for coming back here. They don’t wanna help.”

I shake my head in denial.

  “Well, they have to.”

Bonnie looks at Jeremy with tears in her eyes, “They said there’ll be consequences.”

“Well, he’s just a kid. Tell’em to shut up.”

Bonnie continues chanting and the witch house starts to shake.

“Emily! I know you’re there. Please help me. I love him.”

Jenna, Ric, and I watch in silent horror as everything stops and Jeremy is still lifeless. Bonnie cries holding him and Jenna crawls over to her dead nephew. 

I look down at Jeremy and let out a sob of relief as I see him flutter his eyes open. 

I sigh deeply as I watch Jenna and Bonnie hug Jeremy. 

“Y/N?”

I turn to Ric who is staring at my arm, I watch as he slowly lifts his fingers and touches my shirt. I fight the urge to groan in annoyance as I look at the fresh blood on his fingers. 

“Anyone want to take me to the hospital?”

—

“OK, so it appears you’ve lost quite a bit of blood,” The doctor tells me as he tapes gauze over the gunshot wound on my shoulder. I have a gunshot wound. I was shot. What the hell?! Somehow the bullet that killed Jeremy went right through the upper part of my shoulder. 

Ric and Jenna had dropped me off about an hour ago. They insisted on staying, but I told them my mother would be here soon and they should get back to Jeremy. 

“We’re going to have to give you some blood. Do you happen to know what you’re blood type is? It appears that on your medical records, your mother and father’s blood types are listed but yours isn’t.”

I shake my head, “I’ve never had to get blood drawn before so I don’t know.” 

The doctor nods, “That’s fine. We would give you the universal donor blood but for some reason, we’ve had a shortage in blood lately,” I nod along as if I don’t know exactly why that is, “But we’ll take some of your blood and do a test then find out what your type is.”

I nod and thank him.

“We called your mother but it seems she can’t get out of work and your father didn’t answer. Is there anyone else you’d like to call to be with you?”

My heart hurts as I think about how both my parents couldn’t bother to come to see their own daughter in the hospital, “Um...no thank you. I’m alright.”

The doctor sends me a smile, but he looks almost as hurt about my parents not being here as I am. Tell me about it man. I watch silently as he takes a vial of my blood, tells me he’ll have my results soon, and then leaves. 

Great who the hell is going to drive me home?

—

I’m awoken by a small shake to my uninjured shoulder. I squint my eyes to see the doctor from before looking down at me wearily. 

At this, I try to sit up but waves of pain stop me.

“Don’t move sweetheart it’ll just rip open your stitches,” The doctor gently pushes me back down. But the look on his face makes me nervous.

“Is everything ok,” I question. 

The doctor is silent before he shows me a blood bag, “I was able to find a match for you, but… your blood type is Type B,” His tone and words confuse me. Wouldn’t he be relieved he was able to find me blood?

“I don’t understand,” I shake my head in confusion.

“I don’t know if I should be telling you this without a parent present. I could be fired,” He says to himself as if he’s fighting some internal battle. 

“Please… what are you talking about?”

The doctor places a hand on my shoulder and frowns at me, “Your mother’s blood type is Type A, and your father’s is Type O,” At the confusion still clearly on my face he sighs, “Genetically those two blood types combinations can only produce Type A and O children. So…”

My entire world seems to come down crashing on top of me as he finishes his sentence.

“You can’t be related, biologically, to your father.”

[titania-sleeps]

Angel Yandere x Nun Reader

mild nsfw, minors DNI pls, mentions of implied somnophilia

• Mikhael believed in the goodness within humans. Even if humans exhibited cruelty, it was as God intended, and everything would go back into place once the human's soul was purified.

• Mikhael thought his logic was sound, and thus lived his life charitably blessing humans. They would soon reach salvation anyway. Ease their suffering, and they would become good once more.

• Mikhael then met you. You were a nun in a convent near the church he frequented. Although you seemed rebellious at times, he knew your heart was pure.

• Mikhael enjoyed following you around. He knew that you couldn't see him anyway. Your daily life was mundane, but he enjoyed the knowledge that there were humans who took their dedication and faith seriously.

• Mikhael found himself drifting around you often. He feared that it would be inappropriate of him, but he convinced himself it was for the purpose of ensuring that your dedication was just. Even if it meant that he would be with you even while you slept.

• Mikhael would watch you sleep at night, gazing upon your moonlit form curiously. You elicited emotions within him that he thought he was far beyond.

• Mikhael eventually found himself craving the pleasures of the flesh as time went on. His body heated around you, and his heart pounded dangerously. It was so foreign to him, to experience the needs that he could only have imagined in the past.

• Mikhael wanted you to taint him. An angel felled by the hands of a human; it would stain your hands and his reputation, yet it would be so delicious. A whiff of your scent has his nails digging into his palms.

• Mikhael needed your touch. Without thinking, he would float down and lay next to you. He would cover his mouth with his hand and breathe gently into the nape of your neck as he let himself grind against you. He prayed for you in whispers and gasps; you would be forgiven for his sins.

• Mikhael grew courage over time. His nightly visits became a daily occurrence. Elation filled him as he finally touched his lips to your supple skin. Angels were not deprived of sin, as it would appear to be, since he seemed so deeply devoured by it.

• Mikhael learned the joys of lust from you. As you slept, he would slip out his cock, an appendage formed by the desires blossoming within him. His form grew more defined as his lust grew; perhaps he would benefit from becoming a demon instead.

• Mikhael would whimper as precum leaked from his head, the tip of his thumb swiping over the opening. He gasped, wondering if being inside you would cure him of his depravity.

• Mikhael never came. He wanted you to be the one to take his first. He wanted your fingers to be the finishing touch. He wanted your words to be the gospel that brings him to climax. He wanted you to devour him, to replace the sin within him with your very being. Only then could he be forgiven, and only then would he be satiated.

• Mikhael continued to follow you around, shame growing as his libertine habits flourished. He would bless you and pray for the men that would accidentally die around you. It was quite unfortunate, how you were unable to interact with a man.

• Mikhael wondered if you were secretly a temptress in disguise, but he couldn't ask you. After all, you couldn't see him.

-----

• You could see him. You were well aware of the angel floating around you. Unlike your fellow brethren, you were unnaturally attuned to supernatural elements around you. You could perceive those that many cannot; religious creatures and beasts of legends from across all cultures seemed to flock to you.

• Joining the convent was a means to avoid the dangerous creatures, but you really didn't think a filial angel would show up at your doorstep.

• You knew that he watched you when you were asleep. It was eerie, the way his eyes roamed your body in lust. Pained lust, you could tell.

• You heard mutterings and stifled moans from him at night. One day, maybe you could entertain him a little more.

• Perhaps it would be a little fun to play around with him. Luckily, you weren't a saint.

i um have a drabble do you guys want it,,,,, (it's a continuation of this)

-> masterlist

[weepingtalecowboy]

Fanfiction prompt: considering that wind can see ghosts but instead of hiding it he thinks that everyone can see them because everyone has dealt with supernatural forces

Main while the chain is freaking out because wind keeps talking to nobody and telling them that their his friends or the most unhinged statement he is enemies with the stripes guy who always stands menacingly in a corner trying to be cool (fierce deity)

And the chain starts to worry about wind badly because that is not sane behavior

While another part of the chain (particularly twilight) doesn’t take it THIS seriously because he remembers how Colin spent weeks complaining about his imaginary friend not playing with him and that children can be imaginative especially when bored and that only making him a new toy got him to play with his friend again

And that ends up in the chain thinking that wind must be incredibly bored because they walk all day and not letting him explore and play with bugs and they decided to fix it (but quickly realized that they are in the middle of a forest with nothing particularly interesting)

Wind main while has absolutely no idea what to do with the hand made toy lobster (legend definitely can sew like have you seen him and the ton of outfits he has) or the Fact that Wolfie seems particularly persistent to play fetch ..!.,?! What is going on!? (Twilight quickly realized that he is dog shaped and he also feels extremely guilty that wind is only walking with them)

But also he definitely can’t throw it away because the legend clearly put effort into the thing and he does love lobsters

And he would rather die than let the chance pass to play with Wolfie (that guy never has fun and nobody can make him play anything and the look of pure envy from Wild was totally worth it he is Wolfie's new favorite now , screw you wild)

But unfortunately that one extra toy seems to do nothing about Wind's insistence to talk with walls

And Wolfie tries really really hard to be more interesting than the walls ( he is failing because ghosts will always be more interesting )

The second they enter a town every single link with money goes to ransack the entire town for toys

And wind catches on about their concerns with his mental state and realizes that explaining them how he can see ghosts would probably confirm to them he is crazy

He awkwardly takes the toys and rearranges them in a way that every ghost is next to a toy so that the chain can stop complaining about him because now he has the excuse that he is totally talking to his toys and not any other beings or voices or walls

The chain is happy because they can almost always see him talk to the toys and play with them (the dread they feel when he keeps naming them after dead loved ones of them is something but maybe it is just a coincidence)

Then they catch him playing a game and it���s just the lobster who apparently is named after legend and the bird who he named Marin (Wind was totally only re-enacting Marin's story because he is definitely an adult and only doing the logical thing)

Time later sees him with Wild's majora’s mask (that sits with its face turned like it’s trying not to look at someone) while Wind keeps talking about a big guy with stripes on his face and how he tried to be cool when defeating the demon (war flashbacks activated because that stripes guy seems very familiar)

And legend gets an aneurysm because that lobster story strikes way to close to home for him

They take way to long to figure out in this one (they are the heroes of courage not wisdom afterall)

[incendiobrock]

The Driskill Hotel {Chris Sturniolo}

Summary: fem!reader x bf!Chris go to Austin, Texas with Matt and Nick to film a video for Sam and Colby's channel at the Driskill Hotel. The reader is very sensitive to the supernatural and gets convinced to do the elevator ritual alone... What could possibly go wrong? ;)

Warnings: anxiety/panic attacks, ghostly encounters, fear of elevators, language, FLUFFFFF

A/N: I know this video is from awhile ago but I've had this idea and couldn't stop thinking about it. I started my page with imagines like this for Colby x reader and so I wanted to throw it back to my roots and make a Chris x reader (because I'm a die hard Chris girl)

Part 2??

You had been a fan of Sam and Colby for years, enjoying their content and being fascinated with their supernatural findings. There was always a part of you that was convinced you had a special connection with the supernatural, feeling extremely vulnerable and tethered to their world. Maybe it was due to your empathic nature, or maybe you were a undiscovered medium that hadn’t tapped into your powers.

You never tapped into your "abilities" because you were scared of what could possibly come from speaking to the dead. But when Nick, Matt, and Chris (and yourself) got asked to join in for an XPLR video on Sam and Colby's channel, you all knew that you couldn't pass it down. This is what led you all to Austin, Texas where the historic, haunted, Driskill Hotel was located.

The night had started somewhat normal, you all walked through the hotel with a tour guide where she explained the history of the building as well as the ghost inhabitants. Throughout the tour you would catch glimpses of shadow figures on the wall, hearing inaudible voices, and being extra sensitive to smells like cigar smoke and roses. The fear was definitely building inside of you when you observed that none of the rest of the group seemed to be experiencing the same things you were. You did your best to hold it together, knowing the triplets were excited to be included in the video, and not wanting to ruin your own experience of an inner fangirl being on an XPLR trip.

As the tour wrapped up and the night went on, Sam and Colby began to lead the investigation portion of their video. You stayed glued to Chris' side, feeling comfort in his presence, even with everything going on around you. Chris held an EMF reader in his left hand as his right hand was busy interlocking your fingers, running his thumb over your knuckles soothingly. He couldn't tell if you were nervous or if you were just trying to hone in on filming the video since you were all a guest to Sam and Colby's channel.

You and Chris stayed slightly behind the group as you made your way over to the elevators on the main lobby for the next part of the video, the elevator ritual. The elevators had already been acting up earlier in the night, not wanting to take you guys up to the floor you had requested. Elevators weren't necessarily your favorite inventions, a slight irrational fear of being stuck in one or one falling with you inside.

"Matt, the ghosts seem to really like you. Maybe you should be the one to do the ritual." You heard Sam say, observing how the EMF in Matt's hand continued to light up to red as they crossed through the grand lobby. As you passed by the receptionist desk you saw the figure of a tall man dart across the wall, making you subconsciously squeeze Chris' hand out of fright. "What's up baby? You okay?" Chris asked softly, pausing in his tracks to check up on you.

"Did you see that?" You asked him back, hoping that maybe you weren't going as crazy as you thought you were. Chris furrowed his eyebrows, glancing around the rotunda, trying to see whatever it was you were talking about. "See what?"

You let out a shaky breath, your palms becoming clammy as all the supernatural sensitivity was beginning to catch up to you. The hand that was holding onto Chris' disconnected as you rubbed the sweat on your pants, "I keep seeing shadows on the walls..." Chris frowns at your reply, wrapping his arms over your shoulders and pulling you into a hug. His lips pressed a firm kiss on your forehead, "I won't let anything hurt you, I promise."

"Chris! Y/n! You guys coming?" Colby asked, staring at you two from down the hall where they had stopped in front of the elevators. "Yeah we're coming, sorry!" Chris responded, gently pulling away from the hug and instantly wrapping his hand back in yours. As you stood in front of the elevator doors Sam explained to the camera, and to all of you, what the elevator ritual would consist of.

"y/n, will you do the honors?" Sam questioned, pulling your out of your trance and causing your jaw to drop open. "Huh? What?" You stuttered, not registering what he had elected you to do for this ritual.

"Do you want to do the ritual?" He rephrased, looking at you with big, hopeful eyes. Your body tensed at the thought, not only did elevators terrify you, but you had already been experiencing paranormal things the whole night. "You don't have to if you don't want." Chris said, breaking the short silence that filled the room, knowing you were already on edge and trying to stand up for you in case you were wary about doing it. "Uh, yeah, I think I could do it... I would just need to write down the order of the floors." You said, uncertainty filling your voice.

"Awesome! I'll text it to you." Sam said, beginning to type up a message to send to your phone. A lump began to form in your throat as you awaited the notification being sent to you. Chris gently rubbed your lower back, doing his best to calm your anxiety without bringing too much attention to your state, understanding that you didn't like when others were aware of your intimate emotions. Your phone vibrated in your hand, looking down to see the message;

12:00AM

Sam: 4, 2, 6, 2, 10, 5, 1

"Okay it's exactly midnight, you have to start now." Colby said, pressing the up button and watching the elevator door open. You took the camera from him, not saying a word as you faced the elevator. You swallowed the lump in your throat, knowing there was no way you could back out of this now. Stepping into the elevator you instantly felt chills run up your spine.

"Now remember, when you get to the fifth floor a lady might join you. If she does then when you try to come back down to the lobby the elevator will actually go up to the tenth floor, that's how we will know it worked. If it comes back down to one then the lady didn't enter and the ritual failed." Sam said, reminding you and the audience how things were supposed to go.

Shakily, your finger made its way up to press the number four, officially beginning the ritual. The door slowly shut in front of you, keeping eye contact with Chris until you couldn't anymore. The elevator rose and the door opened, nobody was there. Floor two, nothing.

Sixth floor.

Second floor, again.

Tenth floor.

Then finally, the fifth floor. Your breath caught in your throat as the elevator door opened unusually slow, revealing an empty hallway. 'This is just a game', 'It's not real', you tried reminding yourself as your heart beat uncontrollably inside your chest. You waited for a couple seconds before pressing the button for the first floor, praying that this stupid ritual hadn't actually worked. The doors shut and the elevator began to descend back to the first floor, allowing you to let out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. "I guess the ritual failed guys," You lightly giggled talking into the camera, feeling relief wash over your whole body.

"Woah!" You yelped, almost dropping the camera as the elevator slightly dropped, the lights inside flickering. The screen above the door signaling that you were on the third floor. Before you knew it the elevator came to a halt, stopping dead in its tracks on the third floor.

"What? Oh no, no, no, no, no..." You whispered, panic rising inside of you as you dropped the camera to the floor and made your way to the control panel. You smashed the button for the first floor over and over again, hoping the elevator would start to move again. Nothing was happening however, the buttons not even lighting up when you pressed them. You began to reach into your back pocket for your phone, pulling it out to call Chris.

The dial tone played as you dropped to the floor in a seated position, legs shaking beneath you. After three rings Chris' voice filled your left ear, "Hey babe, why did you stop on the third floor? We were waiting for you to come back down-" He said quickly before you cut him off.

"Chris! The elevator is stuck! I don't know what to do, I'm freaking the fuck out!" Your breath became labored as you heaved in and out, feeling like no matter how much air you inhaled it wasn't reaching your lungs correctly. "Woah, woah. Okay, calm down please! Just breath alright? Listen to my breathing!" Chris instructed, knowing you were on the verge of a panic attack.

He let out slow, steady breaths of air while your vision began to blur with tears. Your head started to heat up and your ears began to ring, "I-I can't Chris... I can't breathe!" You huffed, clenching your hand over your aching heart.

"The elevators stuck, somebody go try and find someone to help!" You faintly heard Chris yell to the other boys, holding the phone away from his ear so it wasn't directed to you. "Yes you can, I believe in you babe. Nick is going to get some help, okay? Just hang in there." He continued to comfort you through the phone, coaching your breath back to normal as Nick found an employee. After five minutes, which felt like an eternity to you, the elevator doors where being pried open. The elevator had stopped just barely off center to the second floor, making the door inoperable on your side.

When the doors were finally opened you couldn't help but let the tears you had been containing fall, all the overwhelming fear catching up to your eyes. The employee held out a hand for you as you jumped the three foot distance onto the second floor lobby, landing slightly unsteady as the tears blurred your vision. Chris rushed over to you, faster than you had ever seen him move before, pulling you deep into his embrace.

"There, there, I got you. I got you, don't worry." He said, running his big hand through your hair. Your arms wrapped tightly around his torso, scared that he might disappear if you didn't hold him close. Tears stained his jacket sleeve as you buried your head into his shoulder. You both stayed like that for awhile, the others watching as you crumbled into Chris' arms.

Once you had finally cooled down, you all sat on some couches that were in the main lobby. You drank some water that Nick had brought for you as you stayed by Chris' side, his arm wrapped over your shoulders. "Y/n, I am so so sorry that the elevator got stuck. I had no idea that was going to happen and I feel horrible. I didn't realize you were scared of elevators." Sam apologized to you, feeling guilty that he had put you in this position in the first place.

"Sam, it's not your fault! How would you have known the elevator was going to get stuck?" You said sincerely, appreciating his apology even though he had nothing to do with the unfortunate situation.

"If you guys need to call it a night and go back to your hotel, we completely understand." Colby said, offering to end the night where it was instead of finishing out the investigation. "No, it's okay. I'm good now, really. There's no need to scrap the rest of the video just because of me." You reassured, wanting the boys to finish the video they had put so much effort into already.

"Are you sure?" Chris asked you.

"Yes, I'm sure. Now who's ready for the Estes Method?"

[buddierecs]

soulmates buddie fic

this list has different rated fics, so please look at the rating make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

your fingerprints smeared on my heart (lead me back to you) by: letmetellyouaboutmyfeels "in 1880, evan buckley of the arriviste set is sent out west to oversee his family's railroad and recover from a broken heart - and meets eddie diaz, cowboy. when fate tears them apart, they make a promise: find each other again. In 2018, buck walks into his fire station in los angeles - and meets eddie diaz, new recruit." word count: 88k rating: explicit important tags: reincarnation, gilded age, cowboys, timelines, heavy angst objects in the mirror by: sevensoulmates 'the voice had always been around, eddie remembers it, like a stream of consciousness that babbled incoherently to the point where eddie just tuned it out. but then the voice started speaking directly to him..." word count: 139k rating: explicit important tags: telepathic bond, pre-canon, slow burn, eventual smut, angst freezing from the inside out by: 7ate9 "a soulmate was a definitive thing. and a freezing soul only meant one thing: your soulmate doesn’t want you. and without their love, without their acceptance, you’ll die. at first, buck didn’t realize why he was so cold. but it was true; because of this dumb lawsuit, eddie rejected him. buck would die. buck was dying. he was nothing to anyone. he’d fade away, freezing from the inside out, ice in his veins, in his soul. and no one would even care." word count: 16k rating: teen and up important tags: grief/mourning, post-lawsuit (s3), angst, hurt!evan buckley, emotional hurt/comfort, abandonment bark like you want it by: colonoscopys "the first time eddie diaz hears his soulmate’s voice, he hears him say damn, that’s a nice ass." word count: 7k rating: general audience important tags: crack treated seriously, different first meeting, buddie are captains stitch my soul by: r_holland "eddie diaz has never really put much stock into the concept of "fate". but after his marriage falls apart, he swears that he's not going to go against the universe again. he's going to find his soulmate. he's going to find evan. but then he meets buck, and all of his careful plans start coming apart at the seams." word count: 30k rating: mature important tags: idiots in love, miscommunication, getting together, pining say you were made to be mine by: elvensorceress "it's valentine's day 2018, and eddie saves a man from choking to death in the middle of a restaurant. it's only after the man is rushed away by paramedics that eddie realizes his hands are green. the man he saved is his soulmate. and he doesn't even know his name let alone how to find him." word count: 11k rating: teen and up important tags: different first meeting au, soulmate-identifying marks, mutual pining catch your breath by: dlanadhz "buck has been a firefighter long enough to know what it means when someone is throwing up flower petals. it means heartache and physical pain. it means almost certain death. he knows, of course. he just never thought it would happen to him." word count: 21k rating: teen and up important tags: hanahaki disease, supernatural illnesses, pining, angst, hurt!evan buckley fate, the universe, and something else by: writesmart "eddie's soulmate won't stop getting hurt and leaving marks across his body. buck's terrified of meeting his soulmate and seeing disappointment in their eyes. the two are love struck idiots who revolve around each other until they finally collide." word count: 13k rating: teen and up important tags: soulmate identifying marks, angst, self-worth issues, hurt/comfort in cicatrices amor by: annide "from the moment you are born, your existence is linked to your soulmate’s. every time you get a cut, a scrape, a bruise, it appears on their body, fading away after a few minutes. scars are shared forever, a lasting mark linking two people together. buck and eddie are soulmates, but are they ready for what it means?" word count: 26k rating: teen and up important tags: slow burn, mutual pining, hurt/comfort

[lambilegs]

THE TENDER SANCTUARY BETWEEN MONSTER AND HUMAN

contains: vampire!lee, 18.5K words, cursing, graphic descriptions of blood and violence, detailed killing of animals for vampire feeding needs, lots of self-shame and existentialism about being a vampire on lee's end, lee drinking blood from reader (becomes quite sexual in nature), sexual content (so minors dni!!) (+ specifically, making out and dry humping), mentions of shooting + gun usage, injuries (+ a bullet wound described in great detail), internalized shame about kink, religious trauma, reader's genitals are spoken of but aren't referred to w/ any direct terminology

inspired by the following asks: ask #1, ask #2, ask #3, ask #4 (thank you SO much to you guys, you're the ones who really planted the seeds of this story and gave me the ideas + inspo for it mwah mwah)

soundtrack: night shift by lucy dacus, 505 by arctic monkeys, apocalypse by cigarettes after sex, k. by cigarettes after sex, romance in f minor, op. 5 by tchaikovsky, swan lake act 1, no. 5, pas de deux: ii. andante by tchaikovsky, romeo & juliet, balcony scene by tchaikovsky

divider by: @faeberrywine

taglist: @2jewelz, @sillysillyparty, @jinxvex

lee is never going to trust carter's judgement ever again. that's the first thought she has when she's suddenly yanked back into reality, into the throes of life, when she was certain that she was on the edge of death just moments ago.

she had warned him that something seemed off about this case, something bent from reality. but, just like always, he refused to believe her, claiming she was just being paranoid and there were no supernatural ongoings. but, lee felt it. the history of the family they were investigating was seeped with mystery and unexplainable occurrences. people who looked the exact same for years upon years, a tendency to only be witnessed publicly at night, an intense beauty. 

she had known something was off, and now, because of her superior's stubbornness, here she is: convulsing and writhing, tears leaking from her eyes as the daughter of the family, a woman who looked close to her age, but whom she lee suspected of being alive for two hundred and twenty three years, presses a fresh cut on her palm to lee's gun wound, intermingling their blood together. she feels the effects immediately, her body surging with an energy that soaks into her veins and drenches her nerves.

carter witnesses it all from where he was shooting the mother of the family, but to no avail. all she does is cackle, watching him with a wicked gleam in her eye. she makes no move to chase him, or attack him, which is only more unnerving. it implies that even if he gave chase, and had the advantage of her lingering at the back, she's certain she'd still win. carter seems to realize this, for his eyes are wide, desperately flicking to lee. it seems like he finally understands. 

but, it's too late. lee can feel the tight ball of anxiety wedging into her stomach as a new feeling wraps around her body, making her feel lighter and easier to move, as though her limbs no longer weigh anything, as though her bones are made of plastic. it's terrifying, and she finds herself paralyzed to the floor, overwhelmed by the flow of power beginning to push through her body.

"I didn't think you deserved to die," the woman by her side whispers, pressing a kiss to lee's cheek before slinking back to her mother.

the two women let carter and lee go, taking advantage of the vulnerable position the latter is in. lee knows that in their mercy, they're silently telling them to keep to themselves about this and that they won't be so lucky if they pursue this case again. lee hates to leave a case, especially one right at her fingertips, unresolved. but, she knows in her weakening state, body flooded by all the new sensations and unable to cope, along with the abilities both women possess, her and carter will never reasonably be able to arrest them. and even if they did, what would happen then? they'd spend an eternity in prison?

there are too many questions, and lee's mind is a bit too numb to answer all of them. and so, despite her internal protests, she lets carter wind his arm around her waist and help her stumble out of the home. it looks like any other suburban house. if only people knew.

carter insists on keeping her at his family home in the guest room, and lee knows it's not just care for a partner that's driving him, but an acute sense of guilt too. she could detect it in the shaky way he tried to explain what happened to his wife upon the two of them tripping past the threshold, bloodied and bruised.

lee doesn't exactly like it. she's appreciative, sure, but she'd prefer time away from carter after what happened. time by herself, where she can research as to what happened and if it'll result in what she fears most. she felt a change, some change, in her body, that's for certain, but a part of her weighs heavy with the desperate, bottomless hope that it's not what she thinks it is. 

she wants to deal with all of that alone. but, carter is still her boss, so she lets him bring her soup everyday, and she comes down for family dinner with him, anna and ruby. and in the evenings, she talks to ruby about the child's day. if it were under any circumstances, these conditions might be tolerable, nice even. lee doesn't exactly enjoy the constant stimulation of being around people, but here, the carters give her space due to what she's been through (not that anna even knows the whole story). so, it's not too bad. the first day, it's actually surprising to her. it's been years since she's actually had a taste of a family dinner with so much laughter and affection. not since she was a child before her ninth birthday.

on the third day, though, all of her neutrality towards the situation shatters. she wakes up with a ravenous hunger, her stomach wretched with a deep, grumbling pain from how badly she needs it. the back of her mind whispers what it is -- the answer is right there, but lee's always been good at compartmentalizing, and she practically drains that ability of its use through her denial of what she's become. 

that is, until anna comes in with her kind smiles and soft eyes, and lee nearly lunges at her. her mind is screaming for her to sink her teeth into anna's neck, grip her body and let it go pliant as she drinks and drinks. her hands are itching with it, her stomach is rumbling in desire for it, and by the time anna leaves the room, lee nearly throws up at how hard she had kept her body stiff in order to control the urge. 

she leaves that night. carter presses that she doesn't, but all it takes is for lee to say, "carter, I'm becoming what they are. it's not safe."

the firmness of her tone, or more likely, the underlying threat to his family that hides within the words, is what finally has his lips pursing. after some moments of contemplation, he nods and drives her back to her cottage.

the entire ride is torturous, and lee, very unlike herself, slams the door without a goodbye and runs into her home. 

at nighttime, it worsens. exponentially. her gums ache and bleed, and a choked sob bursts from her mouth at the sight of fangs protruding from her teeth. her nose starts capturing everything. every musky leaf amongst the trees surrounding her, every mineral and rock, every animal--

her head whips up when it's near. the blood. 

she makes her first kill that night. a rabbit, a poor creature who froze upon seeing lee leave her door. but, the hunger was too much, too consuming, lacing her body in ropes of it and tugging, too tight. on her porch, her hands rolled into fists, nails digging into her palms, her stomach sunk with guilt and horror for the urges pulsing through her. and she tried, so hard, to go back in. she almost made it, one step in. 

but, then it moves, and lee catches a whiff of the scent again. her legs move faster than she can process, and seconds later, her teeth are sinking into its small, innocent body.

that night, she can't even sleep, mind whirring with memories of what happened. the way the animal's eyes widened, flashing in the darkness, before she gripped it so brutally, biting into it. it barely even resisted, just squirming before accepting its death to lee's mouth. 

the reminder of it makes her sob into her pillow, her chest aching with the weight of what she’s done, the sin she’s committed. what's worst is the fact that her stomach no longer growls and tempts her -- it's satisfied. she's satisfied. 

she knows what she is now. logically, there's no denying it. these urges, these primitive wants -- they've never existed within her until that woman pressed their wounds together, sending their bloodstreams intermingling. she's a vampire. or if not one yet, she's becoming it. 

lee, for days, ignores the revelation, an irrational part of her hoping this is all a nightmare she'll shudder to a brutal awakening from. or that maybe these symptoms are temporary. but, the more she compulsively researches her conditions, sneaks into libraries at night to dive into literature about it (because, yes, the morning after her first kill, she found herself writhing in pain, her skin stinging from all the open windows), and observes her own behaviours, she can't ignore it. this is a part of her now, if not who she entirely is. a horrible, disgusting part she tries to ignore, she tries to shove aside as much as she can.

for months, she isolates herself, sunk into a complete abyss of melancholy and devastation over what's happened to her. she doesn't know what she'll do, how she'll cope with all of this. some days, she throws herself into books and readings, filling her mind with all the information so that she does not have to linger on the more tender, emotional and difficult parts of the situation -- a tendency she approached almost everything in life with. but, other days, when a new facet of her condition rears its ugly head, like the thought of will I outlive mom? after one of their daily phone calls, or will I watch all these people die? when carter talks to her on the phone about their coworkers, she forgoes the rationality and pretense. she cries, screams, tears at branches of trees, disgusted with what she's become and hating herself, carter, and the entire family they investigated, for that horrific day.

she even resorts to praying and reading the bible again. it only lasts a month, for that’s how long it takes for her to reconcile with the fact that she can’t convince herself of the religion even if she’s desperate to do so for the sake of an answer. but, for a while before that, she truly wonders if what she is is linked to the devil – if her mother’s warnings and skeptical tones of evil did indeed have some place in reality. for if vampires exist, maybe all of it does. and so, she prays to the god she gave up on years ago, pleading and begging for something to change. she goes back to wearing her cross, and sleeping with her bible. an irrational part of her, a part desperate to do anything to go back to how things were, even if it means sacrificing her true beliefs, hisses that maybe all this has occurred because she gave up on her faith. maybe all of this is punishment and she needs to earn forgiveness to be released from this horrific state.

but, just as before, when she was a teenager teetering on the edge of disbelief, god doesn’t answer her. and it doesn’t take long for her to lose her hope in him again.

she continues feeding. she soon learns that she needs to do it every three days, lest her body become a rotted vessel for broken reservations and pure instinct. and so, she shamefully lurks in the woods on those days, kills an animal, and uses it to satisfy herself. she whispers an apology to the animal each time. she hopes the practice will help her retain some sense of humanity, a bit more of control.

in a matter of months, she's back to her life before the incident. well, not entirely so, but enough to keep her satisfied. she no longer visits the bureau unless it's at nighttime, and in the daytime, she works on cases from the shadows of her home, only dimly lit by lamps. her and carter spend many long hours reviewing cases and witnesses together at bars or his home, and they only explore places in relation to a case after nightfall. all of this is something lee grasps onto desperately – the normalcy of work, as well as having something less existentialist to devote her attention and skills to, is akin to a cool sip of water on a hot, suffocating day.

what surprises her most is how much she misses the pump of people, of life. she's never enjoyed being in crowds, and has always preferred her solitude, only talking to people when it's necessary of her or when it'd be disrespectful not to. but, having the choice removed from her, being left with no option other than visiting the bureau when the amount of people there is cut by half, being so much more restricted in her interactions from all the late-night grocery runs and unoccupied spaces she visits, feels off. after a while, she actually misses the buzz of people around her, of having faces and bodies to observe. she hated being subjected to conversation, yes, but it was always somewhat comforting to have the option of doing so, especially in the rare moments of longing for something more than herself. maybe a companion.

carter urges her on the one night she confesses to missing going places less isolated, smacking her back and telling her she's young (a sentiment that makes a small part of her stab with hurt, knowing she most likely won't be aging now), and ought to go out and enjoy some night life. when lee asks what constitutes as night life, already having a tentative, and frankly, unappealing, idea of it in mind, carter does nothing to ease her suspicions by saying, "you know, bars, clubs."

which is how lee finds herself exiting a club later that night after a mere half an hour inside, her mouth twisted in disgust over how pungent it smelled in there. she rubs her neck, eyes observing down the rest of the street, trying to capture any sign of life within the other shops. she shortly gives up, walking to a creaking table and chair outside a convenience store still lit up, sitting there and pulling out a book from her backpack.

despite everything, the moment gives her some relief. the quiet of the night, not completely removed from humanity with the hoots and howls coming from drunk inhabitants of the club, the low thrum of music pounding from the building, and the murmurs of conversation from people still lingering upon the pavement, up for whatever reason. if lee listens closely enough, she can capture the content of distanced conversations, but she refrains from doing so for privacy's sake.

"hey."

her eyes snap up, widening at the sight of you. whoever you are, lee's sure the two of you have never met, and her eyes flick away hesitantly before returning your greeting. "hi."

"are you here alone?"

her eye twitches at the question, suspicions immediately swimming in her mind. "yes."

you sit yourself opposite to her, and lee tenses up. she's not sure who you are, and she knows better than to trust a random stranger making conversation with her. she watches you, awaiting some sort of explanation. 

"I just came from the club," you explain, thumb jutting in the direction of it. "it was kind of overwhelming, I needed some air."

"okay.” it’s a sensible explanation. but, it doesn’t account for why needing some air includes sitting with a stranger. “why talk to me, though?"

you flinch, but lee doesn’t apologize. it's a valid question for her to ask, considering you're strangers. and it's not rude, it's simply honest. but, still, the twist of your mouth has her feeling a twinge of regret for how bluntly she worded it. she always struggles with that.

"well, I don't know, you seemed kind of alone out here, and I just thought you might like some company." your gaze drifts from her, head ducking down momentarily before lifting back to her. "did you?"

"not really." lee places her book on the table. at this point in the night, after the torture she endured in the club, she had been happy to resign from anymore efforts to talk to people. but, your company isn't entirely unwelcome. you seem nice, she supposes. "but, it's fine. you can stay."

"no, no, I can go. seriously, it's okay."

lee shakes her head. "I wouldn't offer it unless I was okay with it. really, it's fine."

you shift, shoulders rolling. "you sure?"

"mhm."

you nod, and turn your head to the expanse of the street stretching beyond you two. lee takes the moment to observe your features. you're clearly dressed up for the night, but under your eyes are dark circles, and your mouth seems dry, lips cracking. it's apparent you need some rest. 

you lick your lips, and she looks away from the peak of the pink muscle.

after a quiet moment lingers between you both, you say, "it's a pretty night, isn't it?"

lee's eyes raise to the star-studded sky. "it's peaceful."

"do you prefer the night or morning?"

lee blinks at the unexpected question. "um, night. I'm more productive then." in a way, the transformation actually aligns with the schedule she held prior to it, for she's always stayed up late into the night to do her work. "you?"

"does afternoon count?" you ask, the corner of your lip quirking up. 

"it was your question, not mine."

"mm, true. what do you like about nighttime?"

"it's quiet. easier to unwind and hear my own thoughts."

you nod slowly. "why, what kind of stuff is on your mind that you need quiet for?"

lee's stomach squeezes in discomfort from the question. it's a bit too personal for her liking, but she tries to answer it, vaguely tip-toeing around reality. "I don't know. there's been a big change in my life. so, I guess dealing with that." she pauses right after, wondering if a lie would’ve been safer.

"I see, that sounds rough. I hope you get to figure it out soon."

lee nods, appreciative of your lack of prying. she picks at the corner of her book. "why do you like afternoon?"

"the sun is out, it makes everything bright -- and, you know, it's a period of time in the day where there's still, like, hope."

that catches lee's attention. "hope?"

"hope to be more productive, to do more in the day. to still, you know, take any chances and seize at something you wanted to do that day."

she swallows, a bit intimidated by how open you've become to her. you two barely know each other, and yet your words have taken on a note that feels so private, so exposing to your thought process. 

"that, um, sounds like a good outlook to have. good for productivity."

"I mean, not just productivity. good for any life choices made, really."

lee's mouth twitches. "so, all important life choices should be reserved for the afternoon?"

"yes, of course," you say with a smile. "not too tired, then."

she hums, eyes resting on the table. 

"so, what brings you out at this time?"

"my boss."

your eyes flicker about. "I thought you said you came alone?"

"he's the one that suggested I try coming out and socializing."

you raise an eyebrow at her, your mouth stretching into a grin. "and how's that going?"

she feels a bit self-conscious under your knowing gaze. you both are aware it's not going anywhere. but, she'd rather dismiss that fact than admit it out loud. "you're here."

"I am, aren't I? see, you're pretty lucky -- now, you can tell him you did make a friend."

"friend?" she asks, fingers tapping on her book. "that wouldn't be accurate. I don't even know your name."

"wow," you chuckle, and lee would probably blush at it if not for her bodily conditions. "smooth. was that your way of trying to subtly ask?"

lee nearly laughs. if only she were that cognizant about the ins and outs of conversation. "no, it wasn't." after a beat, she swallows, curiosity beginning to swarm in her. "but, you can tell me it nonetheless."

"if I tell you mine, will you tell me yours?"

her eyebrows furrow. "sure. why wouldn't I?"

"well, you know, mysterious woman, out at night, all by herself."

"except you know why I'm out," she points out flatly. "regarding names and basic information, my name is lee and I'm a special agent."

"special agent?" you shoot back, eyebrows zapping up. "wow, and the mysteries only persist."

lee's lips crack into a smile -- she can't help it. her life isn't exciting enough for her to be considered mysterious. and if it is, it's only because of what she is now. before that, everything in her life was designated into orderly, neat categories. work, home, work, home. that was her life. there was the occasional visit to her mother's, which she supposes was one complicated part of her life. but, it was a part she often avoided and didn't touch. honestly, most complicated aspects of her life received such treatment. both due to a lack of time with how immersed she was in work, as well as an absence of courage.

"it's not that mysterious." she shrugs, drawing her nail along the edges of her book, gaze following the path it makes. 

"yeah, but you seem pretty private."

"'private' and 'mysterious' aren't the same. one is about secrecy, another is about simply wanting things to yourself."

"but, why would you want things to yourself?" you ask, perching your cheek on your open palm, leaning in.

lee clears her throat, shifting in discomfort from the proximity. "what do you mean?"

"it can help so much to share with people."

lee's face twitches. "I think we can disagree on that." not that she would know, really. when she was a child, she barely spoke at all, and her mother was the only one she leaned on in that way. as she grew up, and became more surrounded by peers and co-workers, she was no longer forced to spending most of her days with her mother. but, the privacy stayed, and the isolated feelings made a home in her. she had no desire to burden others with her pain, nor undergo the humiliation of baring herself naked in all of her secrets and dark thoughts. she'd prefer to handle it in her own solitude, where no one can judge her and where she doesn't have to grapple with the weight of unloading things she can barely handle thinking about, let alone giving permission to transform into words.

"and why's that? or would telling me also count as sharing?"

lee's eyes narrow on you, feeling a spark of defensiveness spring to life in her stomach. "I don't because... I don't--" shit, you were right. even admitting the reason why she doesn't share things that are vulnerable is a vulnerable act of sharing in and of itself. "I don't feel comfortable with it."

"why, because you're scared people will judge or something?"

she blinks at you, sighing. she's already kicked the door down. might as well humour you for a bit more. she doesn't expect you two will see each other again, anyways. "amongst other things." at your prodding eyes, she gulps. "well, it's hard for me -- to, you know, communicate sometimes. the topic being one that's serious makes it feel all the more difficult."

"yeah, but if it makes you feel better, it's hard to a degree for everyone, you know? and anyone who cares for you would be patient when listening to you. plus, the comfort you'd receive -- well, it'd make the temporary discomfort worthwhile, you know?"

lee fidgets, her stomach tight with tension at the gentleness your tone takes on. it's smooth and soft, like sand that's been coated by the ocean, so fragile that it just slips through a person's fingers. she'd maybe appreciate it more if it weren't for the embarrassment at feeling so cornered. "why does it matter to you?" she asks, her tone more timid than she wishes it was. "I'm just a stranger to you."

"still a person."

just barely. if only you knew the kind of temptations that raged within her, the violent impulses she needed to lean on in order to survive. she's certain your sympathy wouldn't be so present if so. 

"but, a stranger."

you roll your eyes, and lee might've felt insecure if not for the way your lips still curl up. you don't seem irritated with her, so at least there's that. "my point is that even if you don't share with me, you can still do it with someone else, you know? just take the chance, it'll feel good with the right person."

her lips purse. you seem insistent, but still, she's not entirely convinced that the pros outweigh any potentially harmful repercussions. but, you certainly seem sure of it. and what reason do you have to lie to her? unless you were the kind of person to go around, deceiving strangers. with lee's line of work, she can't say she'd be surprised if you are. 

"I'll think about it."

your face beams as you laugh, and lee feels ambushed by the lifted cheeks glowing from the moonlight, the teeth that flash in the darkness, the lips that crack at the center from the cold. she licks her own, suddenly hyperaware of the direction her thoughts have gone in. she tries to will them back to your words -- which, despite their openness, contain a safer, more comfortable territory than attraction. 

"I suppose that's the best I'll get out of you for tonight?"

"yeah, pretty much."

"then, we'll just have to work harder next time, huh?"

lee's eyes tentatively raise to you, uncertain of what you mean. "next time?"

"yeah." you pluck out a notebook and pen from your bag, and rip a corner off her page (much to lee's alarm) before scrawling something on it. "this is my number and name. why don't we, um, hang out again?"

lee's body jerks a bit in surprise. the last thing she expected was that. she knows she's far from entertaining, or even pleasant, when it comes to conversation. any interaction with a stranger is something she anticipates to be short-lived and reserved to one day only. "uh, why?"

"why?" your lips pinch down.

lee's caught off guard, again, at the onslaught of panic that slams into her at your expression. she tries to pick out her words carefully before clarifying, "I just mean, you were kind of doing the leg work in this conversation."

"yeah, and you entertained it, and didn't shy away." you shrug, and lee's relieved to see the frown melting away. "that's good enough for me."

lee would like to be considered a bit more than good enough, and to be subjected to those words sting, but she supposes it's a natural result of her own reservations. besides, it's surely not the worst thing someone has said about her conversational skills before.

she lifts her hand up to take the paper from your hand, eyes immediately catching the way yours trembles. her eyes flick between the digits and your face. you hadn't seemed nervous, but maybe you were just talented at hiding it. or maybe lee was just unable to detect it. the thought is rather humanizing, and it makes lee ache with the sudden guilt that she hadn’t been more forthcoming.

you stand from your seat, glancing warily at the night club, which continues to pulse with life compared to the deadly stillness of the rest of the street. "so, call me. I should be free, like, saturday morning if you're cool to hang out."

surprisingly, lee is. you didn't overwhelm her, despite the insistent questions, and your perspective was enough to pique her interest. something in her is craving to know more -- a rare sensation on her end, unless it's applied to an investigation. "sure. but, let's meet at night." she licks her lips, trying to keep her voice steady and deprived of any trembles of hesitation. she can't lie for the life of her. "I, um, work a lot during the day, so, yeah." and she's surely not about to invite you into her home during a mere second meeting.

"ah, running on the nocturnal schedule, I see."

lee nearly laughs. you don't even know the half of it.

and so, begins the routine you two weave together through: nightly meetings, talks until the earliest hours of the morning, then an abrupt quiet thrusted upon lee when you depart. you two usually walk through parks, frequent gas stations and convenience stores, and on some occasions, lee picks you up and you two drive around for hours, stopping to walk through the measly, dead grass of fields on the outskirts of town, or to visit abandoned stables and houses. 

for two or three nights a week, lee lets herself forget everything, falling into whatever adventure you drag her into, and becomes surrounded by nothing but the stars, the chirps of the crickets and your laughter at the things she says, even when lee's convinced it isn't funny at all. 

but, she likes your smile, so she’s glad that you laugh. and with time, and more evenings spent with no one to focus or gaze upon but you, she comes to like many things about you.

despite that, it takes weeks before she shares something secretive with you. she doesn't know what coaxes it out. if it's the stress of the case her and carter have been working on, the nervousness derived from wandering along the creaking floorboards of the half-destroyed home, or your eyes, which are so wide, so curious, almost begging for her to give you something. and lee can't find it in her to refuse you. that's what she learned three weeks into your company. she can evade, she can gently deny -- but, if you want something bad enough, there's little chance she has it in her to shut you down.

"my mom collects trinkets like these," she muses to you, fingers brushing against the dusty head of an angel. "even I used to have some in my bedroom."

"does she still?"

lee tenses, rubbing the dust off her fingers -- the only motion her body makes, grounding in its repetition. "yes. but, well... she collects lots of things. she hoards."

"oh." your voice goes soft, faintly echoing in the empty room. "why?"

"I think to have a sense of control after she dealt with some difficult things." she hesitates, a pierce of guilt stabbing in her as she voices out her next thought. it takes her a minute or so to select the words she wants to express herself with. she could only hope her face doesn't come off as so neutral that you think her heartless. she signs in frustration -- this is why it's so hard to open up. "I dislike visiting home because of it. but, I know I should, especially because..." she might die, and I'll be left to mourn her for decades upon decades. "because, you know, anything can happen."

"I'm sorry, lee." you're far, but she can hear your voice, crystal clear. "that must be hard. but, it's okay to step away from it sometimes, you know? better than forcing yourself and getting resentful, you know? the fact that you're already visiting her is admirable."

lee's ears pick up on your approaching step, as well as the way your jacket makes a scratching noise when you lift your arm, then lower it back down in hesitation. after a moment, you reach up again, and lee tenses as you rub her back through the blazer she had on from work. your palm is so, so warm, even through the fabric. lee can't even remember the last time she felt such warmth, her own body more of a freezing corpse above anything else. 

"thanks." she wishes she could be stronger, and visit her mom more. avoid the cowardly decision of staying away just so she doesn't have to face the ruins of their home, and the longing face of her mother. but, your words ease the shame some. it makes her feel like perhaps she isn't too terrible of a daughter after all.

maybe your words from that first night had some merit.

"you're welcome."

lee gulps at how low your voice sounds, quiet and laced with velvet in the silence of this night. she breathes in shakily, before forcing her gaze to lift to yours. your eyes are latched onto her, tracing every inch of her face, and lee feels her skin itch from the focus of it, almost as though your gaze is your finger, dancing along her features and connecting your skin to hers. or as though it's your tongue.

lee clenches her jaw at the thought, unwanted thoughts now flooding her mind of your tongue stroking her cheek as you press wet, slippery kisses down her neck. 

"why are you staring at me?" she forces out, just for the sake of breaking this tension between the two of you. she doesn't know how to handle something that weighs so much despite being intangible. and even if she did, she wouldn't want to subject you to any pursuit of her. no matter how much she dislikes thinking of it, she will outlive you. you'll age, continue to grow, and she'll be stuck here, just as she is. in a matter of years, she'll probably have to leave oregon in order to avoid arousing suspicions over her unaltered appearance. she suspects she'll need to do so every ten or twenty years. and you don't deserve that. a life so utterly detached from normalcy, comfort and the intimate closeness of moving through the years together.

"I just..." you trail off, your hand sliding down her back. lee nearly sags in relief before she stiffens right back up upon your fingers tenderly cradling her wrist.

"you just?"

"I want to, um..."

lee's body thrums under your touch. it's interesting -- her body is drained of life, nothing but a cold, walking stitch of limbs. but, still, your eyes resting upon her is enough to make her feel revived to life, pumped with energy and heat that makes her feel alive. almost as though she's right back at the moment at having been turned, except this time, she's brought back to the depths, the humiliation, and the fleetingness of humanity and impassioned moments that will die in a mere second, that one could choose to seize, lest they face death without having ever really lived with bravery.

but, she doesn't have the luxury of death being a source of encouragement. 

tugging her wrist from your grasp, she mutters, "let's get going," walking through the door, and heading back outside to her car.

something in her aches when she hears you sniffle from inside the house, but she tries to ignore it. you deserve at least a moment to yourself after what she's done.

she can sense your embarrassment and anger during the next week. you handle her less delicately than usual, and even though she didn't think she needed the special treatment in the first place, to lose it after weeks of being on the receiving end makes her feel a bit emptier. 

she's not sure if you're upset that she dismissed your attempt to -- well, touch her, whatever it was, or if it's because she did it so cruelly and without any later mentions of it. she supposes she could've been gentler. at least give you an explanation as to why she didn't want you doing what you did. but, what would she even say? that she doesn't want it, too? that would be a complete lie. there's a smouldering desire that's been burning these past few weeks, flaming to life when you touch her or get close. to deny all of that, and lie straight to your face, makes her feel wrenched with anxiety. 

but, maybe a lie is permissible in this situation. maybe it's not so immoral when it's to avoid hurting you or allowing you to be tied down to an unknown monster for life. and even if she was known to you, exposed for what she is, she still wouldn't want you to suffer through a life with her.

though, it's hard to convince herself of doing the right thing when she's in your bedroom, watching you recall the date you went on as you undress behind a screen. lee fidgets, a burning jealousy scraping at her stomach, fused with discomfort. when the shadow of your figure lowers the straps of your top behind the screen, she can't help but bite down on her lip, her self-control slowly waning with every new glimpse you give her into the map of your body. lee feels like you're unlocking a new secret to her attention with every new spot revealed, it only causes her thoughts to stray to one specific to her interests. would it be coated in wetness? would it be swollen and thick and weeping for some attention?

she nearly releases a small groan at the mere mental image. she's not sure if the vampirism has stirred her desires to a stronger degree. after all, she did always have wants, fantasies and ideas she played into when between her sheets at night, worn out from a long day at the bureau. but, beyond those private moments, she often did a good job at forcing that lust dormant, pushing it to exist in a deep, hidden nook in her mind that was guarded by shame and hesitation from just how depraved her mental wanderings were. in other words, she was good at reserving those kinds of musings for when she was alone, even if there was someone she was attracted to close by. but, now, all it took was a flash of skin, and her mind was whirring with thoughts of bending you over the bed she's seated on, and ravishing you, over and over, until you're so pliant and drained that any dates are the last thing on your mind. 

when you bend over, and her eyes stray to the shape of your ass then flick away immediately, she sucks in a shuddering breath. she can't do this. even if she knows she can't, and wouldn't, act on those desires, there's no need to sit here and undergo this torturous form of voyeurism. especially paired with the frustration that swarms inside when you tell her how the girl you went out with opened every door for you. she can do that too, don’t you know that?

"listen, I'm, um, glad it went well, but maybe you’re tired, so I think I'll just--"

"but we said we'd hang out," you whine, poking your head from the screen.

lee grits her teeth together. she can't tell if you're doing this innocently, or with the intention of riling her up. her romantic experience is both too limited and too lacking in an understanding of social cues to know. frankly, though, as much as she's entertained your petty words and pitiful looks this week, she's not interested in having to go through the frustrating ordeal of this. "yes, under the impression we'd actually be doing something. not just me watching you relay a date."

"I just wanted your opinion on how it went!"

"is that really all there is to it?" lee snaps back, her voice steady and hard. she's not interested in the petty little games. at least her dishonesty and avoidance is rooted in actual care for you. yours is simply spite. "or are you upset because of what happened last week?"

your eyes widen, lips flapping like a fish. she has her answer.

she sighs at your spluttering. "well?"

"no!"

lee feels her eye twitch. from here, she could hear how hard your heart is thumping. you're nervous, and she's tired. might as well call it a night.

when she moves to leave, you slip out from behind the screen, grabbing onto her arm and tugging hard. but, lee has always been strong, and the changes in her body have only emphasized that even more. she stands there, completely unamused as you try pulling her forward, trying hard not to let her eyes stray down to the trimmings of your bra that are revealed from your shirt’s straps hanging off.

"jesus, you're like a rock."

she hums, simply watching you for a few moments before saying, "can I leave now? is the yanking all you had intended to do?"

you huff loudly, planting your hands on your hips. "I was going to say that you shouldn't just leave in the middle of us talking."

"I wouldn't if you'd just be honest."

"I am!"

"you're not," lee hisses, stepping forward to you. immediately, your back presses against the screen, eyes wide as she leans in closer. she's not sure what's gotten into her, but arousal and irritation make for an ugly combination, sending an urge through her to shut you up but also do it in the most filthy way her mind can think of. "you're upset I left when you were doing whatever it is you were doing in the house. and now, you're trying to… get back at me or something?”

your eyes stray down at that, lashes fanning your cheeks. lee watches you quietly. you look so sweet, so pure, like this. fingers fidgeting at the material of your sweats, the warmth on your face flowing right from your skin to hers. eyes, so shiny in the faint coat of light, casted down in embarrassment. lee grits her teeth. something in her goes slack at the sight of you like this, wanting nothing more than to draw out more humiliation from you. she immediately retracts the thought back. what’s wrong with her?

“fine, I– you’re right.” you sigh, a deep frown planted on your face. “I’m sorry, okay? but, you should’ve been more clear about what you were thinking at that moment when it happened. rather than just leave. that’s what hurt me. not that you didn’t want it, but that you left so… coldly.”

she sighs, wincing at the hurt in your voice. even if she has a good reason for avoiding your advances, she never wants to cause you such pain. she makes a silent vow to tread more carefully next time. not that you’ll make another move after this occasion, most likely. rather than reassure her, the thought only stings lee. it’s selfish, but she doesn’t want the sweet gazes and light touches to reside. “fine. I’m sorry, too. I should’ve actually spoken in that moment. rather than just leave.” she gulps hard. “I’m sorry.”

your throat bobs as you swallow, and lee watches the smooth skin of it roll. it looks soft to the touch, so delicate. lee can imagine how easily you’d bruise, how her teeth would sink in so easily. lee blinks hard, forcing her gaze to shift back up, her center beginning to pulse at the thoughts running through her brain. 

“do you wanna go home?”

honestly? “yeah.” she’s tired of the little games and secrecy, and would prefer to go home and devise a plan as to how to handle this new state of your guys’ friendship.

“okay.” your voice is low and meek, like you’re a wounded child, lee hates it, guilt stabbing at her. maybe she should just stay. “can you unzip this before going, though? really, I can’t do it.” with your gaze slid to the ground, you turn your back to her.

“um, sure.” with trembling fingers, lee raises her hand to the zip, tugging it down. when it doesn’t give on her first two tries, she uses her other hand to pinch the fabric and hold it taut, finally getting the zipper down. as more and more of your back gets revealed, a sprinkle of spots and pimples painted upon it, lee feels her breaths shorten. it doesn’t make sense. she doesn’t even need to breathe in the first place. but, habit is a hard thing to let go of, her body all too accustomed to the little rituals its been wound up for since birth.

she can hear and feel every little puzzle piece of your body’s reactions. your increase in heart rate, the heat sinking into every morsel of skin on your neck and face, your breathing shattering into tiny pants. it’s overwhelming, to say the least – she’s always been observant of these things, but ever since she got turned, they’re now thrusted onto her, relentlessly. it stimulates her without limitation, especially considering most of the time, she doesn’t even know what to do with these cues and hints.

when her blunt nails brush against your back, she tenses up at the sight of you squirming, her grip tightening on the fabric on instinct. to know she has this effect on you makes her head spin. she never thought she’d be capable of such a thing.

you lean back against her, your shoulder blades brushing her chest, and she nearly gasps, fingers twisting into the fabric of your top. when your head dips back to lean on her shoulder, her eyes flutter shut. god, she can smell your skin. forget that, she can smell your blood. it smells sweet, the aroma filling her nostrils to the brim and almost making her feel drunk in the way it tips her entire world over. animal’s blood only satisfies so much, she knows that. when she works too many hours, and forgets to feed, she needs to zoom past everyone when leaving the bureau, for close contact makes her muscles seize, her eyes burn, and her gums ache with the fangs itching to lash out and sink. it’s a human’s blood she craves the most. but, she has no desire to put anyone in that position. 

and so, for now, she settles for inhaling a deep whiff of your scent, her nose brushing against your jaw. her eyes squeeze shut as she sucks it in, greedy for it. so achingly greedy. she wants to shove you on that bed, strip you naked so she can push the tip of her nose into every plush point of your body and just breathe you in until it’s as close to drinking as she can get. her hands begin to shake with the want of it. 

you must feel it, for you ask, “you okay?”

god, lee shouldn’t be doing this. she can’t tell you what she is – it’s too much of a burden and responsibility on you, and for her own sake, she swore she’d keep it secret to prevent any complications. and even if she did, in a hypothetical and non-existent future, tell you what she was, she’d have no intention of letting you be with her, nor being on the receiving end of her obligatory feeding. she doesn’t want to hold you responsible for that. she can’t. 

with a jolt, she releases you, backing away. “I–I should go.” her voice is like stone, steady and hard with the way she forces it to be drained of any ounce of arousal or excitement. 

“okay, I–” you swallow, slowly turning to her. lee can’t even meet your eyes. but, she can pick up on the way your fingers rub together. “I’ll see you later?”

she nods. she can’t imagine staying away.

as she turns the doorknob to your bedroom door, you whisper, “lee?” 

she stills herself. “yeah?” 

“do you– did you want what I wanted? last week, at the house?”

she remains silent, her body feeling like it’s been webbed into stone.

“I’m guessing that’s a no.”

the hurt in your voice slams into her like ice, and she continues to freeze in its midst. she doesn’t want you feeling such pain, not in her hands. and lying was an option, but now that she’s faced with the decision of doing so, she finds herself speechless. how can she lie, when you’re so open and waiting? monster she is, she’s too human to resist fibbing under your gaze. she braces herself, choosing her words cautiously. vague enough that she can take time alone to figure things out afterwards, but enough of a confirmation to sate you for now. she could always admit her feelings, then later tell you she’s simply not in a position for a relationship.

and so, she leaves you with, “‘no’ would be the easier answer.”

she leaves before you can say anything.

and in a cruel twist of irony, the next time she sees you is during a moment where most people would expect her to be close to dying. if there is a god, her mom was right about him having a sense of humor. we plan, god laughs.

her and carter hadn’t seen him fast enough, and in a blow to her ears and a jolting tumble to the ground, she was shot in the arm. 

carter had managed to get him in the knee and disarm him, but they couldn’t wait for backup to come. both of them knew if their coworkers arrived, they’d insist on taking lee to a hospital. and if that happened, her secret would be unveiled.

and so, carter had carried her to his car, letting her lie in the back seat, and drove her home quickly, muttering breathless apologies everytime a speed bump sent her lurching, bile rising in her throat. 

she supposed it was a comfort, to know she wasn’t going to die. it ought to have been. but, the fear she first felt when the bullet struck her, seeping into her skin and lodging its way through, had actually been a relief. for a split second, she had been fooled into thinking her life was a fragile thing, the temporary nature of which resurfaces in life-or-death moments like these. she had actually felt human, like she belongs with the people she used to share the label of species with. it felt nice, to feel human again.

but, then, the pain settled in. and it only flashes hotter in her arm when her and carter arrive, and you’re sitting on the steps of her porch, waiting upon her return. 

all she remembers is the deep creases embedded into your forehead as you rushed to her side, shakily gripping the uninjured arm that slings as carter helps her to the door. and the way your voice reaches an inconceivably high pitch as you screech, “what are you doing? we need to take her to a fucking hospital!”

“you should leave,” carter grunts as he kicks down the door to lee’s home, immediately setting her down on the couch. “I’ll look after her here.”

“no, no, but I should help–”

“let me handle this, you can visit her tomo–”

“it’s okay,” lee mutters, her eyes half-lidded, the stinging ache in her arm seizing every inch with a death grip. “it’s okay. I trust…” she nods in your direction, too exhausted to explain your presence to carter. she’s only mentioned you as the someone she met during her night out, but kept it to herself afterwards. as she did with most things when it came to carter or anyone else at work. she probably would’ve never confided in carter about her true nature had it not been for him bearing witness to it. but, in a way, she’s glad. she doesn’t know how she would’ve managed juggling every other part of her life without his help and commitment to keeping her secret safe. even now, he’s still eyeing you warily, as though debating as to whether or not you can be trusted.

and she’s not so sure, either. you two have only known each other for a few months, and maybe that’s not a reasonable amount of time to measure up to trusting you with a secret this gave. but, in the throes of pain, the nonsensical reach for survival, she knows in her guts that she trusts you. and feelings don’t measure to fact, so yeah, maybe she shouldn’t act on this notion. but, she can’t find it in herself to care about turning over and inspecting every possible outcome of having this revealed to you. it’s not like you’ll actually agree to leave, and lee needs to heal herself. now. you’ll see her in her true state, using her powers, no matter what. the worries of burdening you, of you letting the truth out – lee can deal with it later.

“really, it’s okay,” lee murmurs, rolling her head onto her shoulder, panting heavily. “I just… help me.” the words taste new and unfamiliar on her tongue, feeling open and almost childlike in the small plea laced into them. she needs you both right now.

with some shuffling movements and awkward hands, you and carter manage to slide off her work jacket and unbutton her shirt so that one side is draped down her arm, the wound revealed. it’s a gaping hole with metal lodged in, smeared with blood and ripped flesh, searing with pain. she knows it’s not nearly as bad as what a full human would experience upon a gun wound, but jesus, it hurts.

carter turns his back to her for privacy’s sake. “take your time.”

she first did it when she got cut when cooking. she did it again when she had gotten badly bruised during an investigation of an old farmhouse with carter. she’s managed success every time, and she’s certain this time won’t be any different. 

her eyes flicker to you. she doesn’t want to show you this part of her. but, she knows you don’t intend to leave her side. and if you do abide by her wishes and look away, then turn back to see her magically healed, you’ll never believe her if she makes up an excuse or tells you the truth. and she’s not exactly in the right state to come up with a lie, anyways, for the healing process will be exhausting. it’s the truth on display, even in spite of the protest raging in her, the worries that you’ll leave upon realizing how monstrous she is. it’s now or never. 

she clears her throat and wordlessly gathers up spit in her mouth while raising her uninjured arm, hand cupped and ready to gather the wetness that comes dribbling from her mouth. she avoids eye contact with you the entire time, entirely conscious of just how… feral and unappealing this must all look to you. but, she can tell you’re perplexed, disgusted maybe, due to the still silence surrounding the two of you. 

the spilled saliva in her palm is delicately pressed to her wound, and she hisses at the contact. but, immediately, her body begins to run into overdrive, the inner-workings of it churning and rolling to push energy to the tender bit of pierced skin. immediately, her skin starts crawling in on itself, weaving back together and meeting at the center, the bullet slowly getting pushed out of the gaping hole as it sews itself back together.

she drinks in a deep breath, then wills herself to meet your gaze. in another circumstance, she would’ve smiled at the way your eyes bulge out in wonder, mouth agape as your gaze wildly runs up and down her body.

“lee, what the actual fuck?”

at first, you leave, much to carter and lee’s concern, the two of them exchanging questioning stares, which are alert with the question of: will you tell? but, then, in a matter of twenty minutes, you return, and sit right down in front of lee, demanding she tell you everything.

and so, she does. she explains how it happened without mincing words (which may account for why carter winces a bit), how she’s been managing since, and some features of her vampirism, trying to keep the more bloody ones tucked away under vague explanations, such as, “every few days, I need to, um, feed.” but, when your eyes widen imperceptibly, her stomach sinks, and she hastily adds, “not humans. animals.”

your silent question makes her feel slightly sick. did you not trust her at all? though, she couldn’t fault you. she herself doubts her humanity and goodness everyday, and she’s the one living in this lifeless host. the host that would be unfurling and rotting if not for the powers she’s so repulsed by.

that night, you send carter off, insisting you’ll take care of lee. she wishes, privately, that you’d let her be, for it’s only a matter of time until her body will demand replenishment. then, again, she hasn’t suffered from an injury this serious since she was turned. she doesn’t even know if she has it in herself to hunt for prey, not when her body is so depleted and weak. but, what choice does that lead her then?

as you change the sheets to her bed, for she drenches them every evening from over-sweating, her eyes roam over your figure, languidly skimming over every dip or curve. there’s a solution to her problems right in front of her. but, she refuses to engage in it. she can’t help but fear the addiction human blood might trade to her in order to have the sweet taste of it filling her mouth and coating her gums. she can’t put herself in that position, not when it might lead to this happening more than once. she doesn’t want you tethered to that. sure, it may not happen – it may just be a one-time thing and she’ll manage. but, the possibility of an alternative path is too much.

you help her back to the bed with an arm hugging at her waist, warm and soft even though the fabric of her old t-shirt. when you lower her, she’s reminded of past memories, kinder ones, of her mother looking after her like this. she doesn’t enjoy the vulnerability that comes with being taken care of, but every other part of it – the tenderness in your hands, the way you’re alert to all her needs, the brief touches… those feel nice.

by the second day you’ve stayed with her, lee feels it edging on. her stomach is beginning to faintly grumble, the craving beginning to set into its motion. she’d resist it, ignore it, if it weren’t for the fact that she needs it in order to regain energy and complete the final stage of her healing. otherwise, she will continue to be weakened by the exertion it took her body to heal itself.

and, so, she tentatively brings it up with you, mouth twitching in half-amusement when you raise an eyebrow and say, “hunt? I can’t do that for shit.”

“well, I need you to,” she mutters. “carter’s swamped at the bureau right now for his trip to washington, so this is the only option.”

“ah, well, I do love being a last resort,” you drawl.

she rolls her eyes. “it’s not about being a last resort. this is just the situation we’re in.”

you sigh, glancing down at the gun she had handed to you. “but, I don’t know if I have it in me to, you know, do that.”

lee’s lips fold in, guilt piercing through her stomach. she hates to ask this of you. she hates doing it herself in the first place, and she needs it for sustenance. she can’t imagine how it must feel for you, whose life does not depend on it. but, she doesn’t know what else to do. she rummages through ideas for a few seconds, anything that can make this easier. 

“maybe, um, you can drive my car out deeper into the forest. and we park there, wait, then I can shoot it.”

you wince at the proposition, and lee chews her bottom lip, wishing she had been more delicate in the vocalization of it.

but, ultimately, you agree, saying if it’s for her health, you’d do anything. lee supposes it was meant to be a comforting sentiment, but it only makes her feel embarrassed and ashamed. for even when she is at a state where she ought to be stronger, she still needs assistance from someone else. and the worst of it is the fact that in this instance, your assistance requires you to sacrifice your morals.

and so, you drive her car to the woods. you wedge your eyes shut, crinkles and all, as she aims and shoots a rabbit. as per her request, you look away and turn up the music as she weakly crawls to it and drains it of its blood. lee wipes her hands and mouth clean of the sin, her stomach squeezing in hot, curdling shame as she returns to the car. she could only hope you stuck to your word and didn’t look. when she looks at herself in the door’s side mirror and sees a spot of blood remaining splattered on her chin, she feels her eyes burn in humiliation.

you two go back, and she waits for her energy to be fully replenished.

something that never comes.

the blood helps, but only some. she waits, hours and hours, and still, she cannot walk or stand for long before needing to sit down. when you two separate for the night, you resting on her couch just as you’ve been for the past two nights despite her protests that you should take the bed, she can’t help but feel a sense of dread wash over her. this isn’t how animal feeding is supposed to work. this isn’t how it ever works. it usually sustains lee and provides her with enough energy and strength for three days, maybe four if she stretches it out. but, then again, she’s never relied on said diet after receiving such a harsh injury. 

she reconciles the situation by deciding that upping the dosage might be the required course of action. and so, you two repeat the same line of events the next day, and she feeds. and again, she returns home, hands fiddling in her lap as she sits up in her bed. but, still, it doesn’t go away – the light-headedness, the exhaustion, the inability to move for long.

she knows you pick up on it too, for the next morning, you sit on the edge of her bed, shooting her a soft, wary smile. “do vampires have special doctors or something?”

“not that I know of.” she sighs, resting back on the headboard. while your question was spoken light-heartedly, she truly has been meaning to get back into contact with the family that turned her. though part of her, a huge one at that, still despises what she’s turned into, she knows being acquainted with other creatures like herself will make situations like this, ones where she’s still untrained and, therefore, at risk, easier to understand. 

your smile slowly fades, and lee’s lips pinch in, wishing she had joked back with you. “I’m worried about you, lee. you still seem really weak.”

“you don’t have to worry,” she mutters, eyes downcast. “it’s not your responsibility.”

“stop that,” you interject, shifting your body closer, lee instinctively flinching from the proximity. when she feels you move back, she swallows down the protest, waiting for you to continue. “I’m not doing this out of obligation. I’m doing this because I care about you.”

that’s the problem. if you were doing it out of obligation, lee could at least assure herself that you’re deriving some self-satisfaction from doing something that fulfills a responsibility on your end. but, when it’s all dependent on pure care, it feels burdensome for you. you’re doing this all for her. and she isn’t certain how to deal with that. beneath it all, though, is gratitude, warm and comforting. she doesn’t like being anything other than self-sufficient, but if she has to be, you’re one of the only people she’d feel at least mildly comfortable doing so with.

“I know,” she responds, forcing her eyes to meet yours. “but, at this point, our options are limited. and soon, I’ll get too hungry, and it won’t be safe for you here.”

you lick your lips, blinking hard at her. she feels uneasy with the possibility that you’re growing to fear her, now that you’ve borne witness to the uncontrollable nature of her desire for blood.

which is why she freezes when you say, “well, why don’t you take my blood then?”

her eyes, wide and straining, are fixed on the blanket, a flash of thoughts blasting through her mind. why would you ask such a thing? where did you even get that idea from? sure, like most people, you’ve probably always been aware about vampires’ tendencies to feed on humans. but, what could’ve caused you to get the idea that you and her should do that?

worse than her lack of answers is the stirring in her stomach, the quiet rumbling. it’s like an ugly beast has turned its head, reminding her of what she is, what she needs. she sucks in a shaky breath, trying to tame it.

at her pained silence, you continue, your voice slow with what she senses is trepidation, as though she’s a wounded animal. “listen, lee, I did some research with the books in here – the ones you bought on vampires and all that. and human blood is more reviving for you guys than animal blood. so, like, maybe you just–”

“no.”

you blow a puff of air, sharp and hard. “lee, now’s not the time to be stubborn.”

she shakes her head. “no. I won’t let it happen. you can’t– no, we don’t do it.”

“lee!” you scoff, your voice rising to a borderline squeak. “what the hell is the alternative?”

her jaw clenches. she racks her mind for something, anything, other than trying this – especially when this includes something that she’s never done before and therefore isn’t sure how much restraint she’ll have with it, as well as how desirous she’ll be for more afterwards. “I-I don’t know. maybe I’ll continue trying with animals, and it’s just a matter of time until it works. and if it doesn’t, I’ll, I don’t know, call carter. he’ll be back in two days, and–”

“and what? you’ll drink from him, but not me?”

lee’s eyes flick up at your wayward tone. “yes.” 

you splutter, eyes burning into her. “why?” 

“because I–” I know that carter won’t continue giving me his blood if he believes it’s going too far. I know he doesn’t care for me in the same way as you do, so he won’t give up too much of himself. I’m scared for you in a way that’s incomparable. I think your blood will be all the more tempting because it’s yours. “I just think it’s riskier for you.”

“why, because you think I can’t handle it? or, like, it’ll be less effective to drink from me?”

she can hear the way your voice breaks, and inhales a steadying breath to keep her own levelled, firm – rational. “no. it’s not a competition, okay? I just don’t want to do that to you.”

“but, why?”

“because, carter won’t give in if he feels it’s going too far. but, you will.”

you flinch, and lee hisses quietly at the sight. “what, so you think I’m just gonna be, like, stupid and let you do anything to me?”

“I never said that.” she ponders on her phrasing for a few seconds, before slowly saying, “I just– you and I share a… personal relationship. more than I do with carter. because of that, I’m worried you’ll be more lenient about how much or how often I can, well, drink from you. especially considering I may ask for more, or too much, once I get a taste. I’ve never had human blood, so my first taste might make me more prone to requesting for more. but, if this injury really does demand human blood, I want to drink it once, then never again so long as I can help it.”

“okay, so then I’ll leave for a few hours after you feed once, so that there’s no chance I give you more. or, I don’t know, I leave for a few hours, and you call to let me know if you feel energized afterwards so you have to digest it before taking more blood. and if you don’t feel better, we can deal with the situation then.”

she shifts. could that work? no, no – not a chance. even if it could work, that’s only by chance. “still, I don’t want to.”

“why?” you cry out, shifting further to peer into lee’s eyes, which flicker about. “if the difference between carter versus me is that he’ll ensure you stop, and I promise to do the same, then what difference does it make?”

her eyes widen, something in her chest twisting. you care so deeply, so effortlessly, without bounds. lee can’t help but admire it, even if it’s to her own detriment right now. you’re just too good.

“because I–” she turns away, gritting her teeth. “I’m more scared for you.” her voice lowers at the vulnerable admission.

“but, why?”

she says nothing, her fingers curling tighter into the sheet. she trusts in you to put the pieces together. she had already indicated her feelings last week, and has suspected since that you must, at least vaguely, know of them. and so, she doesn’t imagine it’ll take long for you to figure out her meaning.

after a moment, you quietly say, “oh.”

she nods. “so, no. we won’t do it.”

“lee.” your tone softens, breaking at the edges into something delicate and fragile. you shift closer, your hand resting on hers. she jerks in surprise from the contact, feeling her breath still when your other hand slides to her face, turning her gaze towards yours. your eyes are wide and imploring, eyebrows drawn in what she suspects is concern. “please. you need this. and I want to do this because I care for you. and I know that you’ll be extra careful because you… care for me.” you hesitate at the word “care,” and lee wishes you knew just how much she cares, and wants, and needs. “I trust you, okay? we can take preventative measures to be careful. and, wouldn’t you prefer to do it for the first time with someone who’s, um, a friend?”

her eye twitches at that word, but she shakes it off, trying to resist the part of her that is beginning to lean into your proposition. it’s hard to do so, though, considering the rules and regulations you’re laying on the line, which even she has to admit is giving the situation a more comforting level of structure. it’s making her mind wander, wondering if the measures you speak of are enough to secure a safe exchange. she’s aching for it, her bones weary and her insides deprived of the hot, strong energy usually surging through it. and with each argument you put out, her stomach pulsates stronger for it.

“no. I-I might be too tempted to keep going, to keep drinking if I…” she clears her throat, voice lowering. “... like it.”

“then, we’ll tie you up or something!”

that gives lee pause. her lips purse together, mind running a mile a minute. what if that’s the solution? she’s certain she could, eventually, undo anything you could tie or lock her with. but, if it’s something strong, like her handcuffs, it’d take her enough time to undo it to secure your departure if she’s tempted to do anything particularly… depraved.

at her pondering, you seem to realize that she’s considering it. “c’mon, lee, just do it.”

her eyes flutter close. it’s almost as though you think she needs to be coaxed into drinking your blood. but, that’s not true at all. what scares her most is the fact that every cell in her body is pinched and stretched with the desire to lean into you, bury her face in your skin and sink her teeth in until warm, wet splashes of your blood burst in her mouth. the only thing she needs convincing of is how safe it is to give into that desire, how she can ensure you won’t be burdened or pained.

“I– I don’t want you doing it just for me,” she murmurs, her chest still tugging with resistance. “it’s an… intimate process, and you don’t have to do it just for me. we can find another way, or, well, I can and–”

“lee,” you say, your voice hardened with a stern undertone. “I want to, okay? and I am comfortable. a bit anxious, yeah, about how it’ll feel. but, we can stop if it hurts, right?”

“that’s what I mean – what if I’m not able to stop?”

“lee, you just fed yesterday – I don’t think you’re desperate enough to not stop right as we start.”

she shakes her head. you’re too trusting – she can barely stomach herself and how unkempt her desire is. and you’re here, plainly talking about it, declaring the faith you have in her as though she’s not more beast than human. as though you see and know of these monstrous, dark wants in her and are so hopeful of the person she is that you do not notice them. or worst, that you do acknowledge them and have an easier time embracing them than herself. she doesn’t know if it’s a testament to naivete on your part, or proof of self-loathing on hers. “I don’t know.”

“well, I know. and I’m willing to try if it means you’ll get better.” you cup her jaw, tilting her face up. “please?” 

her breath shudders. she shouldn’t she knows she shouldn’t, but you’re going to keep coming up with solutions because you’re sweet. and her resolve is going to keep breaking with each one you serve, the hunger getting too strong. so, with eyes squeezed shut, she gives you a curt nod. 

you go with the handcuffs, chaining lee to her bed post. doing it requires you to sit in her lap, and lee needs to intentionally keep her breathing steady from the warmth of your body so intimately close to hers. but, as you wind your arms around her torso, perching your chin on her shoulder to get a good sight of the handcuffs, she becomes hyper-aware of everything about you. the plush of your thighs entrapping hers, the tickle of your hair brushing her cheek, how your breathing is stuttering and your heart is pounding. you’re just as nervous as she is. it only deepens her own fear, sending it plummeting into the hollow of her stomach. you guys also set an alarm for ten minutes – according to her calculations, it’s not nearly enough time to drain you of a harmful amount of blood, so it works.

when you lean back, your nose brushes past the lobe of her ear and a small shiver snakes down her spine. she prays for some refuge from this desire hanging around her neck and tightening with no relent. but, instead you remain where you are. her eyes remain stuck to your neck to avoid your gaze, which she can feel the weight of resting upon her.

“lee, should we start?”

she licks her lips, anxiety beginning to tie her body into twists and knots, tight and nauseating. slowly. she has to go slowly, cautiously and while paying close attention to how your body responds to her touch. she vows to do that, devoted to ensuring your safety and comfort. 

“mm, okay,” she quietly affirms.

“look at me,” you mutter, voice so breathy and low that it’s almost as though it’s a tangible object on the brink of shattering.

she abides by your request. she’d do anything you ask at this moment, really. anything to make this easier, anything to translate the gratitude that pools beneath the disbelief and fear at what you’re letting her do to you.

you watch her with eyes that are relaxed, steady. nothing like lee, who wishes to break away from the stare as soon as possible. it’s unnerving, yet lee holds onto it as an anchor. your courage and trust in this situation is what’s propelling it forward, what’s holding it at the seams. she wants to rely on it, just as you’re relying on herself to handle you with care. 

“it’ll be okay.”

three words and it makes lee’s mouth twist in emotion, her eyes beginning to burn faintly. but, she doesn’t give herself over to the urge. not like this, not when she needs to remain level-headed.

“I just…” she’s close enough to count your lashes, and she almost does – anything to distract her from the next words she utters. “I don’t want to hurt you. I want you safe.”

your lips slowly curl up, and it makes the skin by your eyes crinkle. how you have it in you to smile in this moment, she doesn’t know. “and you’re sweet for that. but, I trust you to keep to that, okay?”

“why?” she asks. “you’ve only just found out what I am.”

“and? I’ve known for months who you are. and that, to me, matters more. in fact, part of who you are is the fact that you’re this. and I don’t think that that, like, exists separately from the parts of you that are loyal, just and smart. I think it coincides with them. it’s just who you are, and so it wouldn’t make me distrust you. because, well, I trust all of you. not just parts.”

lee’s teeth make a soft click as they crash together and grind, trying to keep her emotions at bay. maybe she could set some time aside to think about this and cry later, but not now. now, the two of you had a goal to complete. but, still, compartmentalizing is easy only in theory after what you just said. for months, she has experienced a range of emotions, from discomfort to complete disgust, with what she’s transformed into, considering it a part of herself that she cannot bear to accept as being infused with her core being. rather, she’s seen it as a faraway facet of her existence, something she was forced into, and may have to adjust her life to, but that she wants bearing no significance in the long run. like a sort of parasite. so, for you to emphasize how infused that part is within her makes her feel not only uncomfortable, but unnerved, because she knows that in the union of these parts, you don’t turn away. you don’t look at her the way she sees herself. you see her as a whole, entirely filled figment that you will openly embrace. because you trust who she is beyond the division of human and monster. 

“thank you,” she manages to force out, not wanting your words to go unacknowledged. one day, she’ll tell you what they mean to her. she has to.

you two lock eyes after that, yours boring into hers with a focus that makes her shift underneath you. instinctually, your hands raise, gripping her shoulders tightly. she swallows hard, the sting of your nails digging past the fabric of her sweater making her body strain with the urge to squirm. and there’s something about knowing you’re depending on her to stay balanced that forms a warm pleasure in her abdomen. 

“of course.” after a moment, you shuffle closer on her lap, and lee nearly groans. you only stop once you two are nearly chest to chest, her eyes levelled with your nose. after a moment, you raise your chin up, revealing the slope of your neck to her. “we can start.”

her breaths begin to tremble, the momentum of the occasion feeling heavy on her mind. she can do this. you can do this. she doesn’t believe herself, of course, but she hopes with enough repetition it’ll absorb into her brain, even if just barely.

she leans in, her warm breath coating your skin. this close to you, she can hear the faint tremors of your breath, and she shuts her eyes in guilt. god, what is wrong with her? you’ve tried so hard to reassure her this entire time, and she’s barely done the same for you, too clouded by her self-doubt and anxieties to do so.

“hey,” she murmurs, raising her mouth to your ear. “it’s me. it’s us. I’ll take care of you, okay? I’ll be careful, and I, um, may not know how I’ll react. but, I’m going to try my hardest to make sure you’re safe. okay?” 

your fingertips press harder into her shoulders, which flex automatically. “I know you will.”

she gulps. “still, I wanted you to hear it from me.” just to emphasize it, she leans back, her eyes locking onto yours, which gleam prettily from the orange light of her bedside table. she forces the thought away – now’s not the time. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it before. but, I’m gonna make sure you’re okay.”

you nod, your lips curling into a gentle smile. “just–just go slow, okay? so, I can call it quits if it hurts too much.”

she nods immediately. “yeah.” after a pause, she adds, “we really don’t have to–”

“lee, I want to,” you repeat, once again, grip tightening on her. “trust me on this.”

she sucks in a shaky breath. she supposes that’s all there is to this. her trusting your strength, you trusting her fragility. “okay.” 

when you give her one more affirmative nod, she lowers her head back to your neck, slowly, carefully. the sight of the spot, different freckles and pimples sprinkled about it, has her stomach shifting with longing, the ache for a taste beginning to stir stronger. it hisses at her, makes her feel like your neck is beckoning her forward. 

your arms envelope her neck. “is this okay? can I… can I hold you, lee?”

surprisingly, she finds that she doesn’t want to deny you. your arms around her feel steadying, something to focus on and absorb the sensation of when the entire world seems to be spinning. something to focus her thoughts on momentarily, sink into the feel of so that not every single sense of hers is anxiously pinpointed onto the impending bite. something to shudder against and find a bit of comfort and solace in when she’s about to expose to you the horrors of what she’s become. 

“it’s okay,” she breathes, her head dipped against your shoulder. your hands smooth over the fabric of her sweater, easing into gentle, rhythmic circles that loosen the tension in her body. it feels as though this touch translates your support, your affection, and is another way of reminding her that you are here for her despite the horrific display she’s about to put on. and it means so much to her – that kind of unwavering loyalty, especially coming from you, the one she holds in such esteem. the one a stray part of her has been wanting to be held by for an aching number of months right now. your touch is so unfamiliar, and it feels so solid and real against lee. something finally flung out of her dreams. it makes her want to pull away, put distance so that she can reside in the familiar place of physical isolation. but, she knows it’s just her own stumbles and struggles with intimacy causing this strain. because if she closes her eyes, and pretends this is something you two have done before, something she’s good at, she’s able to sag against you, sigh as your fingers dip into the strands of her hair.

finally, she leans back, her breath ghosting against your neck once more. she marvels at your sensitivity, goosebumps immediately breaking over your skin at the cool puff. she can hear your breaths growing shorter, faster, and she repeats, once more, “it’ll be okay.”

your grip in her hair tightens slightly, and her eyes squeeze shut at the slight pain. “I know. I just keep telling myself it’s like a piercing, or a shot.”

her lips twitch, fondness breaking through. “yeah.” she opts to say nothing else, not wanting to shatter your self-assurance.

with a heavy breath, she closes her eyes, letting her fangs protrude out of her gums, the act sending a slight ache into her mouth. once she adjusts to the newly extended teeth, she leans forward, grazing them against the tender skin of your neck, wanting you to get a sense of what’s to come. 

you suddenly shiver against her, and lee swallows down a noise at the indication of how sensitive you are. when she does it again, she knows it’s a lie to say it’s solely to help you adjust, her body feeling completely on edge when you softly gasp again, your fingers wound tight in her brown streams of hair.

“still okay?”

“yeah,” you heave, the nails of your other hand digging into lee’s back. she nearly groans at the sensation, the hunger beginning to grow stronger in her guts, mixing with arousal at having you so close to her, so pliant and waiting. it’s to help her feed and survive, but she can’t help but wonder just how submissive you’d be in other contexts.

“are you sure?”

“mhm,” you hum, the noise slightly squeaky. that, paired with the flush of heat crawling along your skin, which lee catches onto as soon as it snakes over you, are indicators enough that the intimacy of the moment isn’t lost on you.

“I’m gonna do it now,” she whispers. the declaration is for both you and herself. she’s never been a person of words, but in this moment, she believes that her announcement of the act is the only thing that’ll push her forward to go through with it. 

you tense against her, and lee suddenly wishes she wasn’t handcuffed, that maybe she could comfort you too. it’s an unfamiliar urge. “okay.” 

you trust her. you trust her more than she trusts herself. lee reminds herself of this, focused on the fact that even if she doesn’t like herself in this form, nor has a lot of faith in herself in it, you do. and even if you didn’t, she took it upon herself to care for and protect you the moment she first called you to meet again all those months ago. and for those reasons, she owes it to you to store some certainty in herself that she won’t hurt you and won’t lose control. she’ll trust herself, at least for you.

her eyes are wide and focused, her breaths still as her teeth easily give way into your skin, piercing the surface of it, which is soft and taut. it’s almost like biting into a soft, creamy dish, easily breakable and so much more delicate than one ever anticipates. she goes slowly, willing herself with repetitive mantras to take her time and listen closely for signs of anxiety or discomfort from you. while your grip on her tightens, heart continuing to thud fast and hard against the confines of your chest, you say nothing.

her fangs sink in a bit deeper, totally breaking the barrier of skin as the thin tip of them dip in, and lee finds herself entranced by the feeling. becoming a vampire has taught her of the fragility of the human body she encompassed before she was turned. the kind of energy and strength that ran through her body after being turned, the capabilities she possessed in her everyday experience, were unmatched to anything she was physically capable of prior. so, she’s well-aware of the weakness of the human body. but, she never thought your skin would be this soft, this tender.

“ah,” you suddenly wince, gripping onto lee’s head tighter.

she stills her movements, torn between pulling back to ask if you’re okay or remaining frozen. if it turns out you are okay and want her to continue, then she’ll have to undergo the process of re-inserting her fangs, which may cause you more pain. but, maybe you’re in so much pain you need her to stop and take them out now. she racks her mind for a few moments, before humming lightly, hoping that probes you for a response.

“I’m okay, I just,” you softly gasp. “it just hurts a bit, but I think it’s getting better. just keep still.”

lee’s stomach tightens with the knowledge of you in pain, the fact that’s caused by her only making the guilt pierce harder. she takes your words diligently, remaining frozen, tongue still locked into her mouth, not daring to taste your blood until you’ve confirmed you’re okay. god knows what she’ll do if she lets herself taste it right now.

after a few more soft pants, lee can hear your heartbeat slow down, your hands beginning to stroke her hair, nails lightly scratching against her scalp. lee’s eyes flutter shut at the sensation, feeling utterly doted on, the itching sensation giving her an unexpected wash of satisfaction. it’s almost embarrassing – she’s right on the edge of tasting your blood, and head scratches are what have her sagging in your arms. that, paired with your other hand continuing to rub between her shoulder blades, feels like the closest she’s gotten to a massage in years. even in spite of carter urging her to go to one after she spends hours in all sorts of positions and contortions on the ground when sorting out evidence.

“it feels better,” you slowly say, your tone low and hesitant, as though you’re confused. “it just stings now, I don’t know why.”

lee wonders if her saliva is already helping you prematurely before she even heals the wound. maybe it falling from her open mouth, and mixing in with the process of biting, is helping you handle the injury. lee can’t help but desperately hope for that, wanting to eliminate as much pain as she can.

“you can keep going.”

she blinks, her stomach flaring to life at your permission. with her nose digging into the soft skin of your neck, she can smell the sweet nectar of your blood. her limbs stiffen in anticipation for it, shoulder straining as she lets her teeth sink in further. as she enters you, the curve of her teeth curling just right into your flesh, her breaths get shallow, hitching in excitement as she finally feels that first, warm splash along her tongue.

she can’t help it. she immediately moans, eyes squeezing shut as the first drops of your blood, leaking from the puncture wounds of your skin, smear along her lips and run onto her tongue. it’s so warm, sharp in how utterly sweet it tastes, and as it slithers down the length of the muscle, she trembles against you. her stomach twists, begging for more. to let these few measly droplets be the only tastes she gets of you seems impossible, but she scrunches her eyebrows together in focus, tensing as she gives you a moment to feel your way through her first sip. she wishes she could see your face, know what you’re thinking. 

“was that enough?” you whisper softly, stroking through her hair. “hum once for yes, twice for no.”

lee hesitates, then gives her honest answer. the blood she took from you was so little that it hasn’t even slid down her throat.

“take more,” you say, your voice hard with determination and surety.

lee’s head is whirring so much with the first brief taste of you, her entire body shaking in your arms for more, tight at the mere lick of euphoria. she can’t wait for another confirmation from you and immediately presses her lips against your neck in an open-mouthed kiss, teeth fully embedding into your skin. your blood bursts from the two small stabs, gushing into her mouth and sliding down the slope of her teeth and down her tongue. when it travels through her throat, lee whimpers at how easily it runs down, smooth and slippery, burying itself into her guts and infusing with the raging hunger that she’s forced to lay dormant for months. 

she gets so lost in the milky sensation of it, flowing so easily through her body and feeling like a dunk of ice cold water on a steaming hot day. so lost that she nearly misses a soft noise that comes from you. just nearly. but, as her mind registers it, and she hears another, her body tenses with the realization that you’re – you’re moaning.

though her insides wail for her not to, she forces herself to remain still, content to continue swallowing down the gulps of blood already pooled at the center of her tongue as she awaits something, anything, from you. though the spot between her legs is throbbing from the quiet, high noise that had drifted from your lips, she tells herself to focus, listen in for any signs of your discomfort.

but, then, you’re tugging on her hair, and you sound like you’re pleading for mercy when you say, “lee, don’t stop. ah, it feels nice.”

lee’s eyes bulge at that, the news taking her several long moments to fully absorb before she begins to suck again. but, even as she does, her mind is seized by equal measures of curiosity and confusion. why does it feel good? how does it feel good? could it be her saliva?

but, then, more of your warm, velvety blood seeps into her mouth, sliding between the gaps and curves of her teeth, filling the cavern of her mouth with fresh honey that has her feeling nearly drunk off of ecstasy the more she hungrily tightens and gulps down more. and, then, god, you make that fucking noise again – a high pitched, broaken little whine that has lee’s fingers tightening into the metal of the handcuffs still chained to her. you tug hard on her hair, and lee groans at the sting of it, the sensation pulling her out of the chains of logic and rationality and into the hot, burning throes of pleasure. her mind is wrapped in the silks of hunger satiated, the pure delight and high of it softening every sensible truth she’s ever known.

she pushes her mouth harder, teeth pushing in with a fervour her first bite didn’t possess before. she’s about to pause, fear springing into her that she went too far, but then you jerk in her lap, crying out, your arms tightening around her neck. 

“oh,” you mewl out, “do that again.”

fuck. lee will do it a thousand times if it means she gets to become surrounded with more of those noises.

she pushes in harder and you instinctively grind on her crotch again, inciting a grunt from lee. she doesn’t feel much from the friction of it, but the mere fact that your pleasure is so great to stir up movement like this has her tipping into something akin to hazy obsession. 

“sorry,” you gasp, “was that okay? one hum for yes–”

lee gives a firm, short hum. somewhere in the back of her mind, there’s the nagging voice that this can be precarious for your friendship, but she doesn’t care. she can’t care, not when you’re writhing on her lap, pliant for the taking, lost in pleasure just like her. when will she ever have the nerve to do this again? when will lee harker, in any other moment of her life, let herself fling into such reckless abandon, with her reservations crumbled by sheer arousal?

she shoves her face into the warm slope of your neck, prodding her teeth in deeper, your blood gushing into her mouth and coating it as she continues drinking. she whines loudly, her arms straining with the stretch of being handcuffed, rattling her wrists against the metal loops desperately. they pinch into her skin, but she doesn’t care, her fingers itching with the urge to burrow into your hair, your skin, your clothes, anything.

your restraint seems to dissipate just as fast as hers, for moments later, she feels your arms envelop her as you shakily plug in the key, setting her arms free. they immediately fling up to encircle your body, and she keeps you wedged against her as she continues slurping your blood, one hand on your hip digging in and pushing you back and forth on her lap. you cry out, hugging her close. in a string of dissolved moans and squeaky breaths, you say, “lee, yes, please, like that.”

she grips tightly onto your body, helping you continue to move as she keeps her eyes clenched shut. the taste of your blood staining her mouth has her enthralled, adrenaline pumping through her body relentlessly. 

when her nails dig into the dips of your back, you release a choked out, raspy noise, your hips stilling from their motions, letting her drink and drink and drink. she can’t even imagine how this can get better until you’re suddenly convulsing on her lap, entire body jerking wildly as a loud wail flies from your lips, bouncing off the walls of her empty bedroom. lee’s fingers sink deeper into your skin, short, rounded nails pressing into the strip of skin right above your ass as she continues to eat you up, relishing in your warm blood as you shudder in her arms, which grip onto you with a sudden blast of protectiveness. you clutch on just as tightly, hugging her to you with soft coos, shivers racking your body.

the next string of moments unfold too fast before lee’s alarm suddenly goes off, yanking her from her trance. the blaring noise, which stills her movements in shock, are followed by you tugging on her head, urging her to pull away. her mouth is longing for more, but her stomach feels full, sated, and she knows anymore of your blood would be for greed’s sake only. but, god, she wishes she can remain with more and more of it resurfacing on your tongue, but she doesn’t know if your urgency is due to wanting to remain on track or because you’re in genuine discomfort. and that’s enough to have her pulling away, her teeth slowly slipping out of the warm clamp of your body. you let out a soft noise, jolting on her lap as the points slide out, and lee nearly groans at the loss of being so close to your neck.

which, now that she opens her eyes, adjusting back to the orange light of her room, is coated in smears and dried drops of blood, leaking from the two incisions wedged near your pulse point. lee’s stomach flares at the sight of it, a deep, dark part of her relishing in seeing you physically marked as hers. but, when another drop of blood slips from it, she’s reminded of your own sense of comfort, and murmurs, “does it hurt?”

your voice is quiet, fingers still curled in her hair. “a little.”

she sucks in a sharp sigh, before leaning in and pushing out a wad of spit onto the marks. her tongue darts out, spreading it along the patch of skin, trying to ignore the way you gasp from above. when she pulls back, she whispers, “that should take care of it.”

“yeah.” 

she swallows hard, her tongue itching to lick up your dried blood. but, you’ve seen enough of her depravity today, and her hunger is quelled for now. 

which only leaves her to now face you, the heat of the moment dissipated, the goal accomplished, and motive no longer pushing you two to remain in such an intimate embrace. but, she can’t find it in herself to coax you off her lap. and she needs to know what you’re thinking. if you hate her, think less of her, never want to see her agaon. she knows those may not be logical possibilities, considering how much you seemed to enjoy the feeding (a fact which she still is having a difficult time deciphering), but still. maybe the impassioned moment wearing off will reveal to you the grim reality of who – what – she is.

she pulls back, eyes roving from your neck to your chin to your nose before finally setting upon your eyes, which are wide, pupils dilated. lee feels struck from the lack of anger or despair they hold, your eyebrows relaxed and face absent from creases of tension. 

“that was nice,” you half-laugh, head ducking down in what seems like… embarrassment?

lee’s clears her throat. “nice? really?” 

“yeah, I, um…” you trail off, the hand in her hair straying to pick at her sweater. she takes notice of the nervous tic – it’s something she herself would do. “I don’t know why, but it felt, like, so good after the pain subsided. I, um… I came.”

“came where?”

you give her a pointed look, as though you’re silently urging her to piece it together.

which she does a second later, lips parting as a shock pulses through her, stunning her into moments of silence before she quietly splutters, “you, uh – you had an orgasm?” so, that’s what the shaking was.

you bite your lip. “yeah.” 

lee’s eyes flick to the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip, an impulsive thought bursting through her mind about latching her fangs into it and watching the skin split. she shakes it off. she’s demanded enough of that of you today, and now has an unexpected orgasm to deal with. god, even the sentiment has her feeling secondhand embarrassment. how did you come from this? she skims through the possibilities, the only sensical one being that the bite actually felt good enough to cause, or contribute, to you coming. but, how?

“I don’t get it,” she flatly says. “how did you, um… you know?”

“I don’t know. it just felt so good,” you say, your tone lowering to something husky that has lee nearly shivering.

“it–it did?” she quietly confirms, her voice becoming a quiet murmur to match yours. when she looks up, her breath hitches at how close you are, your eyes entrancing, just as tempting as your neck had been just moments ago. similarly to the hunger, something in her throbs to get closer and inch in for a taste. 

but, she can’t, she shouldn’t. your friendship is already hanging on a thread that grows thinner with every new breach of intimacy you two embark on this evening. you guys haven’t even spoken of what occurred when she fed from you and what it means. another intimate act is not the answer. besides, even if she throws caution to the wind, what then? she can’t ask you to be with her, not when it’d succumb you to a lifetime of temporary living situations and outgrowing her. she can’t–

god, you’re moving closer, your eyes half-lidded, so similar to that one time you got high with her. “it felt really good.” 

you’re so close that your moist breath tickles her nose, hot and heady. your lips, a bit chipped from the cold, glisten as you rove your tongue around them to smooth them over. lee nearly whines at the sight, her center beginning to throb as your warmth wraps around her.

your eyes flicker down to her lips, and she immediately shakes her head, her breaths embarrassingly raspy when she says, “no, we shouldn’t.”

“please,” you plead gently, the tip of your tongue hanging out as you gasp softly. “please, lee.”

her teeth grind together at how you say her voice, a little whine lingering at the edge of it. “I– we can’t, you’d suffer for your entire life.”

“I won’t if it’s with you,” you interject, your voice raised in what sounds like broken desperation. “please, we can talk about this, figure out a way to be together.”

it sounds so good, too good. but, she knows it’d only end in pain, and she can’t do that to you. she won’t. “you would get hurt. I can’t do that to you.”

“I’d rather have you and get hurt than not have you at all,” you whisper, your fingers sliding up to softly grip her face, coaxing her to stare into your eyes, which are glossy with tears and earnestly sharp. “please, lee.”

could that really be good enough? having you for just a few years within the long, long life she’s going to live? is the heartbreak and agony that’d result from those years ending better than the emptiness of never having had a chance with you? lee really doesn’t know – both feel like a unique kind of hell, except one is of loss and the other is of an unlived possibility. but, at least the first would give her memories to warm by her side for the rest of her life, no matter how lonely it may be.

that tender thought is only heightened when you chew on your bottom lip, looking like the encapsulation of innocence and purity as you watch her carefully. “lee?” 

can’t she let herself have this with you? just once, have something based on pure want rather than need and efficiency? the prospect feels so goddamn tempting the more it whirls around in her mind. without realizing, she feels an invisible string, hanging between the two of you, tugging her towards you. her eyes are honed in on your pretty lips, so inviting, so ready for the taking with your small pants and excited little sweeps of your tongue.

“we–we shouldn’t,” she whispers as she leans in, eyes hooded as they remain trained on your mouth. 

“please, please,” you plead under your breath, the two meek words making lee’s head spin with thoughts of how else you’d beg under different contexts. “we can talk about it after. let’s just have this now.”

you’re right – you guys should talk about it. but, maybe before you kiss. doing it after seems risky, for the act will have been done by then, already shoving you two past the threshold dividing friendship from romance. it’s not a good idea, it’s not–

lee lunges forward, capturing your lips in hers. her arms are immediately hooked around your torso, shoving you close to her. she’s greedy, so damn greedy for every inch of you, her hands running along your back, nails tracing mindless shapes over the slip of skin revealed from your shirt riding up. you shiver from the cold of her touch, and she adores how your body moulds with hers. you’re so soft, so real, so good for her. a sentiment that only becomes more apparent as the raw taste of your blood swaps between your mouths as the tip of your tongue desperately curls along her teeth, prodding for the bits and pieces of your dried blood staining them. she doesn’t know why you’re so desperate for it, why you want to taste yourself in her mouth so bad. maybe having a part of yourself in her mouth drives you as insane as it does her. though, the notion only sends lee’s thoughts to a much more shameless place, and she finds herself sinking her fingers harder into the plush of your thigh, forcing you to be wedged tighter against her body. your chests press together as you two lick, suck and devour, the union feeling downright feral.

spit begins to leak from your mouth as your lips hang open to release all the noises pent up in you. lee’s mind feels hazy from knowing she’s causing those noises, and she worms her tongue into your mouth. she’s had your blood, and now, she wants to taste every other part of you possible. she wants to suck your chest, bite your lip and lick off all the slithering arousal from that spot between your legs. she wants you all, completely. 

“I wanna do so much,” she mumbles right before wrapping her lips around your tongue and sucking, more of your spit bursting onto her mouth and down your chin. she releases with you a pop to lap at the skin, starving for more of you. 

“then, do it,” you moan.

“some of it is wrong,” she rasps, her mind flooded with all the shameful desires she’s held in her chest for months. 

you pull back from her, resting your forehead upon hers. “trust me, none of it is.” after a pause where nothing rings through the rooms but your little pants, you whisper, “I want you to do so many things to me. things I’m so embarrassed of. but, wanting it must mean it’s not too bad, right?”

still hung up on your admission of wanting her to do things to you, she takes a few long moments to fully digest your words. she’d hate to ever contribute to making you feel ashamed of the fantasies you have, and she’s sure she’d want them all just as much as you. the realization gives her pause – will you be that for her? someone whom she can share with all of these secretive wants she’s always kept buried within, only allowing it to have rare glimpses against the light of day. 

with the way you’re staring at her, so desirous and trusting in your touches and gazes, she feels that just maybe, you can be that for her. you’ve already seen her at her most primal state of necessity and survival. if you can accept her in her desperate, graceless, thoughtless need, maybe you can accept her in all the desires she’s kept hidden for so long. 

“right,” she breathes, her nose rubbing against yours as she pushes her lips against yours again, dragging her nails down your back as you wrap your hands into her hair. 

maybe for a moment in her great span of life, she can let herself fall into the sanctuary of being with you. maybe, for some time, she can be drained of shame with you. maybe, if she hopes hard enough, she can feel human with you. or, even stranger of a possibility, she can be anything but human with you. she can stop pretending.

it seems like a faraway, impossible dream. but, as you seize at her with unfiltered desire, holding her close as though she’s something pure and good and precious, her chest splits open with a flood of hope. a flood that whispers maybe you’ll hold her tenderly as a creature that, yes, is still stuck between monster and human, but just as deserving of a life. despite the coldness of her skin, the breaths she only takes out of habit, perhaps this kiss is a vow that you’ll keep her alive through something beyond physicality, something deep in her that still sparks tears and laughter and empathy. something like a soul.

she lets you write the promise upon her skin that night, drinking and drinking it up, and letting it wash all over her. and she continues to for many years to come.

[bucks-babe]

maybe angel!reader helping bucky thru a panic attack? like he thinks when he dies hes gonna suffer in hell for the stuff the winter soldier did and we calm him down and help him? u can add smut if u want but u dont have to !!

My Guardian, My Angel, My Love

Pairing: Bucky x angel!reader

Summary: For the first time Bucky gets to experience peace because of his sweet angel.

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Angst?, actually a lot of angst, I don’t know how it got that way but it did, it gets happy though, fluff, smut (I can’t help myself), oral f!receiving, handjob, awkward sex talk, like really awkward, talk about heaven and dying, talk about life after death and immortality, angels based off of Supernatural but I changed a few things, blood, nearly dying, gunshots, reader doesn’t have a soul but can still love because I said so, reader knows when and how everyone dies but can’t tell them, reader has wings, 3rd person, age gap (reader is eons old), wings being a metaphor for sexual assault?, think Maleficent, no use of Y/N, so many emotions

A/N: This is not supposed to force any religion nor be an accurate representation of any religion. I din't go with panic attack, rather I had him almost die. I was feeling angsty

The moment Bucky’s knees hit the ground he knows it's over, that this is the end. He knew this was the way he would go out, on a mission, desperately trying to atone all his misdeeds. Tendrils of pain shot throughout his stomach, blood seeping through his fingers. When his side hit the ground, he knew it wouldn’t be too long before he went, limbs feeling too heavy. He couldn’t hear Steve screaming for help, scrambling for anything to stop the bleeding.

What Bucky did hear though, was a ruffle, almost like a flock of birds flying by, then a figure he’d never seen before stood above him. She’s here to take me. It didn’t strike Bucky as odd that she was the only thing that was clear, the rest of his view blurry and unfocused. He tried to speak, he really did, but no words came out, the breath leaving his lungs not enough to push any words out.

The woman crouches down, hand cupping his cheek with such softness tears leave his eyes, wiped away by Steve in the quinjet who seemingly can’t see her. “Close your eyes, my love. When you wake up, I’ll be there.” Fuck, this is really happening. Fear coursed through his body, scared of what punishment his sins earned him. I deserve to go to hell for what I’ve done. 

A guttural whine passes his lips; Steve chokes back sobs next to his lifelong friend. “Shh, none of that, now. I won’t let anything bad happen to you, I promise. You can rest now.” All at once, the pain is gone. Bucky feels like he’s floating - it’s wonderful.

Bucky has no problem opening his eyes. What the fuck? This is hell? Well damn. The most wonderful sound meets his ears - a giggle, soft and delicate. “No, my love, this is not hell and you’re not dead.” She comes into view. She’s gorgeous. Wait, I’m alive! Apparently, Bucky says that last part because Steve’s gasp enters his ears.

“Yeah, Buck, you’re alive. Gave us a scare though, didn’t uh, didn’t know if you would make it.” Bucky doesn’t respond right away, too busy looking around for his mystery woman, only to be met with the walls of the med bay. “Hey, I’m right here, Buck, look at me.” It’s not the woman, rather it’s Steve.

“How long was I out? What happened?”

“A few days. It was touch and go for some time but you bounced back. When we were on the mission, Hydra had a sniper posted outside. He got you right in the stomach.” Bucky could hear the emotion in Steve’s voice, the fear of losing his best friend still leaving him shaken up.

“Well, they’re a pretty shitty shot if you ask me. Could have gotten one right between the eyes with one of those shit guns we got in the war.” Steve coughs out a laugh, turning into a belly laugh a few seconds later. Bucky would laugh with him, but the bullet wound in his abdomen says he shouldn’t. He still doesn’t see the woman, though. Maybe I just made her up. 

A few days later, doctor Cho gives him the all clear to leave the med bay; however, he’s off duty for the foreseeable future and not any amount of his grumbling changed her mind. Still, Bucky hasn’t seen the woman. He feels a little crazy that he misses her, well crazier. 

Slowly, he makes his way to his room. Steve offered to help but Bucky wanted to do this on his own, having been tended to his whole stay in hospital. He puts in his password on the keypad Tony installed when Bucky first arrived, when the fear that Hydra would come back and take him was too much to bear. His room is the same way he left it, except for a woman on his bed. Not just any woman though, it was his mystery lady. 

Someone’s gonna have to put me in the cuckoo's nest. She laughs as if she can hear his thoughts. God, I hope not. “God has bigger things to worry about than such an inconspicuous fear as that, my love.” She sits up, facing him, the most beautiful smile gracing her lips.

“Can you hear my thoughts?” He feels like he already knows the answer, but asks anyway. If this woman is made up, of course she can read his mind. She just smiles and rises to her feet, walking over to him.

“What do you think, my love?” She tilts her head, a soft smile still resides on her lips. He feels so safe with her and she isn’t even real, just a figment of his imagination, a ruse to comfort himself in what he thought were his last moments. “I am very real, I’ll have you know.”

Bucky doesn’t know why, but he believes her. He believes this woman who showed up randomly on a field, who his best friend couldn’t see, and who disappeared without a trace. “How then? How did you do it?”

“Do what, my love?” She grabs his hand and leads him to the bed, helping him sit, finding a spot next to him.

“Save me, hear my thoughts, hide from Steve, disappear, get into my room, all of it. It’s not natural. Either you’re a ghost, or a mutant, or a reaper who was trying to take me. I don’t know, but you’re something.” Another laugh escapes her. He should be terrified of her, but he can’t find it in himself to be, her presence emanating calm.

“Well aren’t you a clever one? However, I’m none of those things nor did I save you. It just wasn’t your time yet. I’m an angel, though, to answer your question.” Bucky just stares, not believing her. This has to be a joke. “No joke, my love. If you want, I can prove it to you.” Bucky doesn’t even question why she calls him my love, the sound of it just too nice to stop.

Bucky just nods, words failing him. She rises to her feet, turning to stand in front of him. He hears them before he sees them, the same ruffle he heard as he lay dying. Then he sees them. A pair of dark wings coming from her back. She doesn’t spread them all the way, too big to fit in the small space of his room. “They’re black.” She throws her head back, a loud, beautiful laugh fills his ears. 

“That was your first thought? You don’t like them? Personally I think they’re quite nice.” It was the first thing that came to his mind, the rest blank. Maybe he should have asked for more proof, but he knows she would never lie to him. He doesn’t know how he knows, he just does. 

“I don’t know. I guess I just thought they’d be white. With the whole angel thing, you know?” She hums.

“There is a lot humans have wrong about us. I mean, plenty of us have white wings, but they come in many colors. If you can believe it, this isn’t even my true form.” Bucky is confused, she looks so real. A tangible human, someone he can touch.

“What is your true form then? Can I see it?” That’s a little personal to ask, dumbass.

“Well, that is a little complicated. Only one human has seen my true form and it didn’t go well. I thought she could handle it, but when she saw me, well let’s just say she couldn’t see from then on.” Bucky’s eyes widened, not expecting that answer. “Anything else you want to ask me?”

Her wings are still out, folded against her back. They look so soft. “Can I touch your wings?” Her wings shift slightly. If he wasn’t trained to observe everything and everyone, Bucky wouldn’t have known that she was uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t know-”

“That’s okay. An angel’s wings are very personal. They’re sensitive and even for an ethereal being, it's very personal - intimate.”Clearing her throat, she changes the subject. “I know your name, my love. Might I say, it’s very pretty, but you don’t know mine.” Bucky picks up on her attempt to move his attention away from her wings.

“What is it then? I can’t call you angel forever, however fitting it may be.”

“Well I don’t exactly have a name. I’m a cherubim. The only angels who have names are the archangels, the first borns.”

It was Bucky’s turn to smile.”My little cherub.” She doesn’t tell him that cherub is the plural of cherubim. Until this day, Bucky didn’t know that angels could get shy, yet here his sweet cherub is, shying away from his piercing eyes. He bets if he felt her face he would feel the heat on them. “I have to ask though, my little cherub, why did you come to me?”

She became serious, staring right into his eyes. “Because God commanded it.”

“What does God want to do with me? Out of all the people in this world, he chose me?” A pained look crossed her face and she walked over to him, kneeling in front of him like he was her God. Her hands ran up his arms, goosebumps rising at the pass of her hands. He almost stopped breathing - he could feel her hand on his left arm. He hasn’t felt anything with that hand since he fell of that train.

Hands still rising, she cups his face with both hands, making him look into her eyes. “You don’t think you deserve to be saved.” It wasn’t a question. She knew. “That is why he sent me. He sent me because you deserve it. You deserve to let go.” At that moment, Bucky broke down. Sobbing uncontrollably, somehow without pain in his fresh wound.

She pulls him into her, wrapping her arms around him. His face buried in her neck, arms clutching her back. She hesitates for a second, no one having touched her wings in thousands of years, yet she cocoons him with them, shielding him from the world. It only makes Bucky cry harder, her wings holding every bit of softness he thought they would. The comfort she brings unlike any other he experienced before.

Her arms rub his back as she coos to him. Soft words spoken into his hair. “Shh, my love, I’m here. Nothing bad will ever happen to you again. I will die before I let that happen.” The conviction in her tone sets him off more, unable to comprehend someone would do that for him without a second thought. A being, older than he can even fathom, is ready to give it all away for a mesley human. A speck of dust in her life. His entire existence no longer than a second when compared to hers.

That’s how it was for a while, Bucky’s sweet cherub staying with him. At night she would wrap her wings around him, keeping him safe. Bucky knows that her powers are the reason his nightmares are gone. At first he was glad that he could finally sleep, but then the guilt crept in. Why should he be allowed to forget the horrors he committed? Their families didn’t get that condolence. 

When he told her this she wasn’t having any of it, wings jerking in annoyance. It was something that he picked up on, how when she experienced emotions her wings would move in different ways, always giving her away. 

“I swear, my love, you’re going to make my wings turn gray with all this. I have lived a long life, longer than you can comprehend, so when I tell you that I have seen the best and the worst of this world, I mean it. And you, my love, are a good man. There is a reason God sent me to you.” Her wings surrounded him and he felt himself relax. “There is no quest to send you on, no mission that the world hangs in the balance of. It’s just you. A man who needs to see the good in himself.” Bucky hangs his head in shame, not meeting her eyes.

“You think your purpose is suffering for the things you couldn’t control? My purpose is to save you. My love,” she cups his face in her hands, wiping away the tears he didn’t know had formed, “I have done far worse things in my life. Horrific things, yet I’m here right now, with you. Please, let me take your pain away.”

None of this was easy for Bucky. No one has ever had their sole purpose be him. Back in the forties he took care of Steve, he stepped up when his father left. When he was no longer the Winter Soldier, Steve helped him, but Steve’s care never felt like this. Bucky knows that he’s fallen in love with her. He knows that she knows, but what he doesn’t know is if she feels the same.

What he doesn’t know is that she is fighting the same battle, the feeling of love is one she has never had before. It all came to a head one night, Bucky wrapped in her wings, her head on his chest. “Cherub?” She felt the vibrations in his chest.

“Yes, my love.”

“You said that we could be together for the rest of my life, right?” She did say that when he was worried that she would leave him after her mission was complete.

“I did.” One thing about her is that she never gave long answers to questions, not used to having to talk with humans.

“What happens when I die? Where will I go? I want you to be there with me.”

She sighed, thinking about how to convey her words properly. “When you die… you’ll go to heaven. It has already been decided. If you choose, when you go, I will be there with you for the rest of our existence, but you don’t have to make a decision now. My body will age with yours, follow you to the end of your life. When your time comes, we will leave and go to heaven where we will both be young again.”

Without hesitation Bucky answers, “I want that. I want you to be with me for the rest of eternity.” There was no doubt in his mind. Even though he met her a few months ago, he knew. “I have to ask, what is heaven like?”

She sits up a bit, shifting to lay on his chest, wings still cocooning them, keeping them in their own little bubble. “There is no one heaven. Not everyone who ever went there is in the same place. Heaven is made up of small pockets of personal heavens. People who lost their loved ones meet again, your happiest memories are relived, there is no pain or sorrow, you can have anything you want.”

Bucky felt the pull of his chest, emotion bubbling up. “Is my ma there? And Becca?” The words come out thick, a lump forms in Bucky’s throat. “Please, don’t lie to me.”

She looks into his eyes. “Yes, they are. They’re together and they’re waiting for you. I have seen them myself, right before I left to meet you. They talk very highly of you, my love.”

Tears fall from his face, the pain in his chest all the time at the greatest loss of his life eased slightly. “Can I talk to them?” He knows it's a long shot, but if there is a chance he wants it.

“I’m so sorry, my love, but I can’t. Even I don’t have the power to do that. If I could, I would.” A pained whine leaves his lips. “Hey, you know who is waiting for you too?” She waits a beat before speaking anyway. “Your dog from when you were a kid. He’s in his prime, always will be. His days are spent chasing rabbits around the yard.”

“Balto’s up there too?” A small smile graced his face, crows feet appearing by his eyes.

“Yeah. If it is any consolation, time passes differently up there. The longing you feel right now for them, they feel the same only it’s made easier by us.” Bucky only nods, staring into her eyes, seeing nothing but truth. His eyes flicker to her lips and back up. “You can, my love, I want you to.”

That was all Bucky needed to hear. Gently cupping her cheek, he guided her lips to his. There was no rush, no sense of urgency. They had all the time in the world and then some. Bucky never felt anything this good in his life and he was only kissing her. When she licked his lips, he opened mouth without a thought, brain clouded with love just for her. 

He moaned into the kiss, the feeling of her tongue on his incredible. At his sound, Bucky felt her wings flutter under him. Breaking the kiss, he giggled. Bucky actually giggled. She reared her head back, slightly affronted by his laugh when she just kissed him.

“I’m sorry, my little cherub, it’s just that your wings tickled me.” She huffs and a second later, her wings are gone the only sign they were ever out is the small black feather on the bed. “No, cherub, don’t put them away. I love them.” She wasn’t really offended, but she wanted to tease him a bit.

Her wings were always out around Bucky, comfortable enough to reveal the most intimate and personal part of herself to him. He was the first human in thousands of years to touch them, but he was the only one to be wrapped in them. The only time they were touched was when a man cut them off her back. It was a time when she trusted humans, not knowing the atrocities they were capable of. 

Her wings were white then, when she was pure and unknowing of the hate humans possessed. God crafted her a new pair. Of course she accepted them, but her feathers turned black, scared she looked to her father. When he said that it was because of the wrongs his creations did, it broke something in her, took away her purity, teaching her a lesson. Father never blamed her for it, he knew she would heal with time. It was part of the reason he sent her to the man she lays in bed with.

Bucky didn’t know this, he didn’t know how much she was betrayed by humans, only for her to trust him and him alone. She playfully glares at him before bringing her wings back out, sitting up on his lap. Gently, more gentle than he has been in years, Bucky reaches out to touch them. She lets him feel them whenever he wants, even wrapping him in them as he sleeps, but this was a completely different setting.

She was so vulnerable at this moment. Her wings flapped, a nervous tick of her’s, making Bucky pull away immediately. “Cherub, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” She swallows before meeting his eyes.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to touch them. It’s just that only one other human has touched them. There was a time where I was naive and innocent, not knowing what humans were capable of.” She pauses and Bucky sits up, back against the headboard and laces his fingers with hers, feeling the softness on his metal hand.

“It was a man, he had a family, a kid and a wife. They struggled to survive, trading their valuables for a slice of bread. Father sent me to help them, take away their sorrows. Said he was an honest man trying to make an honest living.” Bucky senses where her story is going, hoping that it doesn’t end the way he fears, but the pain in her eyes is palpable, a human emotion angels almost never experience.

He waits for her to continue, not forcing her to speak. “At first, they were grateful, having everything they needed. They had their health, food on the table, but the man grew greedy. He wanted more. One day, as I was watching his child in a field, keeping her safe from the horrors of the world, he snuck behind me with a sword he got from a blacksmith, sharper than any blade. He-he cut my wings right off my back.”

Tears fell from her eyes, not having relived that moment for thousands of years. Bucky felt his heart physically ache. She was sent to heal him, but it was his turn to do the same. “You know, my wings used to be white?” She looks into his eyes, red with tears. “When he hurt me, Father took me back to heaven, crafting me another pair. They were white but when he gave them to me, they turned black.”

A whine leaves her lips and Bucky pulls her into him, careful not to touch her wings. “Oh, my sweet little cherub, I’m here and I won’t let anyone hurt you again. I’ve never felt as content as I have with you, never so happy and I will do anything to keep you safe. I love you, no matter what you have done, I’ll still love you.” This only made her cry harder. Human emotions were foreign to her, but spending so much time with Bucky caused her to develop them. It was almost overwhelming, going from not having anything to having so much fill her body.

“Father said that it was because the man took my innocence, showed me the evil of the world. I’ve never seen him apologize for anything, yet that day he was broken, realizing that his creations, even the ones he thought were good, are capable of unspeakable atrocities. They will never turn white again because I’m ruined.” Tears welled up in Bucky’s eyes. His sweet cherub thinking she is anything less than perfect breaks his heart.

“My cherub, you saved me, now let me do the same for you. Let me heal you like you have me.” Leaning back slightly, she took his hands in her own, drawing them up her waist to her back, moving them to touch her wings. At his touch, she gasped, eyes closing forcing more tears to cascade down her face. The feeling of his gentle hands, hands that have done so much harm, resting on the most violated part of her body was something she never thought would happen.

She didn’t know she could love until she met Bucky, finally placing a word to the indescribable warmth that spreads throughout her body every time she thinks of him. “I love you too, my love. Forever and ever, til you die, til the end of time, in heaven and on earth.” They were both crying, neither experiencing the tenderness of love before.

He brings her down, kissing her with as much passion as he possibly could, tasting the mixture of both of their tears. Her arms clutching onto him, trying to get closer. He did the same, one hand running across her wings like he was trying to wash away the taint of betrayal his kind caused. 

Shifting on his lap, she feels the bulge of his cock, half hard pressed up against her. Gasping, she pulls away. “Cherub, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean, it just-.” She silences him with her lips, drawing a groan from him, subconsciously grinding down onto him. “Cherub, we have to stop, I don’t want to take advantage of you. You’re vulnerable right now, I can’t do that to you.”

Her hips stutter on his. “My love, I want to, I need to. Need to be closer to you, please grant me this.” His hands run up and down her sides, soothing the heat of her skin.

“Any time you want to stop, or don’t like something, you tell me. Okay? This is about me showing you how perfect you are.” She nods, kissing him one more time. Bucky’s hands slide up her shirt, resting on her soft skin, palms feeling the goosebump under his touch. Looking up at her for permission to take her shirt off, she nods.

Bucky did that with every piece of clothing, every move he made. Soon they were both naked, her wings splayed out on the bed, twitching in a way he never saw before - arousal. “My, my love, I have to tell you something.” He pulls his eyes away from her wings to look into her eyes. “I’ve never done this before. Angels, we don’t do this, I don’t know what to feel right now.” 

Hands cupping her cheeks, he smiles at her, relaxing into his touch. “Do you feel safe?” She nods. “Do you feel like you have to do this for me?” She shakes her head. “Do you want me to please you?” She nods once again. “We don’t have to do anything with this,” he gestures to his throbbing erection. 

“I want to, I just need you to show me what to do.” The thought that she trusts him enough to take care of her makes his cock pulse, aching for some type of relief.

“Let me make you feel good, okay? All you have to do is lay back and tell me how it feels.” She nods her head in understanding, worries slowly fading away. He kisses down her body, taking the time to swirl his tongue around his sensitive nipples, grinning at the small gasp it draws from his cherubs lips.

Going further down, his face is right in front of her pussy, smelling her intoxicating scent. “Keep your eyes on me, cherub.” She gulps. For a minute, Bucky just stares at her pussy, breathing her in, memorizing how wet she is before his tongue flicks out onto her clit. 

“Oh, that feels good. Can you do it again?” She was so sweet, asking so kindly for him to deliver her pleasure.

“Of course I can.” And with that, Bucky dives into her pussy, restraining himself from devouring her. He groans into her cunt, already addicted to her taste, the moans she lets out are soft and breathy, yet it’s one of the most beautiful things he's ever heard, only competition being her laugh.

“My love, I don’t, what is happening to me?” Bucky pulls away from her cunt, reaching up to lace their hands together. 

“Just let that feeling wash over you. It’s okay, I’ll catch you when you fall, I’m here.” He goes right back to her pussy, lapping her juices up, eyes boring into hers. She was twitching on the bed, hips bucking up to meet his tongue. Bucky chuckles when he sees her wings flap, not knowing what to do with the pleasure coursing through her.

Her orgasm comes as a surprise to her, never experiencing one before, nor knowing what they were. Her eyes shoot open, wings beating wildly, body almost convulsing on the soft sheets. Bucky pulls away, not trying to overstimulate her. He almost cums at the sight of her, it was the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

It takes her a while, but she comes down, wings falling limp on the bed as Bucky crawls up her body, resting in between her legs. “My love, what was that? I thought I was about to die.” 

Barking out a laugh, Bucky leans down. “That was an orgasm, sweet cherub. How did it feel?” She whines, not able to put what she felt into words.

“Like nothing I have ever felt before. It was incredible.” Her eyes close. Bucky is perfectly happy to hold her, not caring about his own orgasm, but her eyes shoot open, wide and curious. “Can you have one, too?”

Another laugh leaves him. “Yes, cherub, I can. It’s a little different from yours though.” Her eyes squint in confusion, clearly not understanding what could be different. “Well, for one, what I have looks a little different to yours, doesn’t it?” She nods. Bucky never thought he would be giving “The Talk” to an angel, but here he was. “When I have an orgasm, stuff comes out of this tip, right here.” He grabs his cock to show her. 

“Can I see it? How do I make you do that?” It was Bucky’s turn to be surprised. 

“Cherub, you don’t have to do that.” Her glare is enough to make Bucky continue. “Um, there are a few different ways. I could put it inside of you, that feels good for you too.”

“In where?” Bucky huffs, not in annoyance, but this talk is turning him off. Not that he’s mad at that, but the conversation feels like talking to a child, someone who hasn’t experienced anything sexual and it wasn’t exactly turning him on, it felt wrong to have this talk naked.

“In this hole right under where I was touching you. There is another one under that, but it’s different from the other. Or your mouth, but also a hand. Pretty much anything that could rub against that area.” Bucky felt his cheeks heat up. His cock was going soft right in front of her eyes.

“Can I do one? I want to see you orgasm.” Her eyes were so bright and eager, he couldn’t say no to his cherub. He nods, only for her to glance down at his soft cock. “Why is it smaller now? I think it’s kind of cute.”

This has to be the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to him. No woman has ever called his dick cute, or made a comment on its size when soft. He gets compliments on how big he is when he’s hard, but soft is a different story. He’s a grower not a shower. He has to admit, his encounter is damaging his ego a bit. “It gets bigger when I’m aroused, but if it’s not touched it gets softer.” He’s lying straight through his teeth, he can stay hard for hours without touching his dick.

“If you touch it, it gets big again.” She switches positions, having him on his back, resting between his legs, face right next to his cock. He feels himself twitch and she jerks her head in surprise, giggling at her own reaction. She begins to almost pet him, it feels good but not what he needs.

He reaches down, guiding her hand to gather the precum at his tip, slowly pulling it back down, tightening her grip on his dick. “Oh, wow, it’s getting bigger. It’s so hard.” Her amazement at something so simple as a dick getting hard is endearing. 

Bucky grunts when he twists her hand. “I liked that sound.” Her words make him groan again, cock all the way hard. His hips buck into her hand and he lets her hand go, trusting her to keep her pace. It’s slow but firm, driving him insane. He wants her to go faster, harder, but this is about her, letting her discover at her own pace.

“Spit on the tip, it’ll make it easier to move.” She does so without hesitation. Bucky’s head flies back into the headboard, moaning at her soft hands working his cock. “Just like that, cherub, you’re doing so good. This feels incredible.” Bucky meant every word of it. Her hand honestly felt better than the full blown sex he’s had in the past. Maybe it was because he loved her with all his heart, or maybe it was because she was an angel, either way, Bucky didn’t have it in himself to care.

“You look so pretty like this, my love. I love this, making you feel good.” Bucky’s hips pick up speed, feeling his orgasm building up in the base of his cock. 

“Cherub, I’m going to cum. Please keep going just like that.” She figures he means orgasm since he is jerking just like she was. The urge to make him orgasm was almost too much to bear, wanting him to show her how beautiful he was when he lets go. “Oh, cherub, I’m about to, oh fuck.” He moans long and loud, cum spurting out of his tip. She gasps at the force of it but doesn’t let up her pace. She had never seen anything more beautiful than her love in this moment.

He has to stop her, not knowing that he needed a break. “Love, I want to make you do that again.” She scoops some of his cum off his stomach with her finger and just stares at it.

“You can taste it if you’d like.” She eagerly licks her fingers, eyes bulging at his taste, dropping down to lick the rest of it off his body. “Come here, cherub.” He pulls her into a kiss, tasting himself on her tongue. He pulls the cover over their bodies, her wings instinctively wrapping around him.

“Thank you, my love, for always taking care of me. I was sent to save you, yet I feel that it’s the other way around.” Bucky doesn’t think so. He knows that she saved him. They fall asleep together and in the morning they will find that her wings are just a bit lighter than the night before.

[deanscherrypie420]

𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔

A/N: Hi guys! I promised another Sam fic so HERE WE ARE! This idea was originally for Dean, but I figured it would work for Sammy too. I tweaked it a little bit once I saw this GIF because OMG idk its just so cute. ENJOY <3

Characters: Sam Winchester, Reader Y/N, Dean Winchester, Crowley

Pairing: Sam Winchester X Reader

Warnings: Demon!Reader, arguing, mild violence, guns, alcohol, biting, fluff, supernatural stuff, nerds, physical affection.

Summary: After the Winchester brothers barge into Crowley's lair, they meet you. You're already in a bad mood and they don't help. You can't help but notice the taller one, how attractive he is. After going to the bunker with them, you find yourself in an unexpected situation.

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"I have never once gotten myself in danger! Why won't you let me do this?" Y/N screamed at the man in front of her. Crowley was like a father to her. He took her in from the depths of hell when she was little, turning her into the little princess of hell.

"Hunters get hurt. They die, all the time. Is that really something you want for yourself?" He questioned, crossing his hands in his lap. He was staring down at her from his throne and this irked her. She didn't like being talked down to, especially not by Crowley. She was not going to be treated like one of his servants.

"You are ridiculous. I am more than capable of killing a few monsters. I'm a mini you, for hell's sake!" He just shook his head and sighed. "I said no, Y/N. Do not make me repeat myself."

Y/N felt her jaw tick, her eyes quickly flicking to black, a low red glow illuminating from the corners. She wasn't a normal demon. After being with Crowley, she evolved into a different being.

Her arm stuck out and she flung him across the room, earning a loud groan from not only him but two new men. She snapped her head around and walked backwards towards the throne, claiming her rightful seat upon it.

"Did we interrupt something?" The shorter one chuckled as he nudged Crowley with his foot. The older man grunted and pushed himself off the ground. "Get out, Winchesters. We are having a family discussion."

The taller one glanced over at you, and his brother hooted. "Wow, a new wife? This one's a little young, don't ya think?" Her eyes widened and she instinctively slammed him against the wall. "He is like my father, you indolent pig!"

"Right, my bad." He choked out and the giant stepped forward. "Let him go." He said as he pulled out a blade. She just laughed, looking over at Crowley. He gave her a nod and she huffed, releasing the man from her hold.

"Well, aren't you a bundle of sunshine." He scoffed as he brushed himself off. She glared at him and he put his hands up in defense, making the taller one laugh quietly.

"Look, Crowley, we need your help. Difficult demon hunt." He explained as his brother still tried to compose himself. Crowley shook his head, an amused look on his face. "Very funny, Sam. Run along, you two aren't getting help here."

"Actually, Sam, you might. What do you need help with?" Y/N announced quickly, rising from the seat and stepping forward. "Uh... Just with some research, I really don't think you-" Sam started but Crowley cut him off. "You aren't helping, Y/N. Go to the back room, now."

"What's your name?" She asked the shorter man, ignoring the king completely. "Dean. This is my brother." He grinned, growing a liking to the young woman. Sam cleared his throat and looked down at her, "I would listen to your, uh, dad."

The older man nodded and gestured towards the doorway behind her. She shook her head and smiled up at him, an innocent look in her beautiful Y/E/C eyes. "I'm a big girl, Sam. He can't control me." She moved closer to him, standing nearly a foot away.

"He's the king of hell, the hell you mean he doesn't control you?" Dean questioned, disbelief mounting his features. She glanced over at him, her eyes morphing into dark pits enclosed by a ruby glow. "I'm the princess of hell. I have more power than you think, Winchester."

Sam stepped back, his brows furrowing as he lips flattened into a line. "Don't worry, I don't bite. I want to help." She blinked her eyes back to normal and grinned at the brothers.

"Y/N! What did I tell you!" Crowley shouted, using his powers to throw her to the floor. She hissed and got up, her eyes glowing brighter than they had before. "I swear to God, I will carve out your fucking eyes." She spat as she tossed him against a wall, her fingers closing tighter, slowly crushing his internal organs.

Sam rushed to her side and tried pulling her back, but she just kept going, slowly walking towards the king. When she reached him, her hand wrapped around his throat, a low growl escaping her. "I'm becoming a hunter, whether you like it or not."

Sam gripped her shoulder, leaning down to whisper in her ear. "He's not stopping you, let's go. You're alright." He soothed, giving her a gentle squeeze.

Her brain stuttered, her force relaxing as her eyes shifted. "Fine." She stated simply before letting go of Crowley completely and storming out of the building.

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They had stopped at a diner before heading home to the bunker, all of them chatting and story-telling. The waitress came by to take their orders and she looked Y/N up and down, a look of distaste forming across her face.

"Well, you have an interesting fashion choice." The older woman spoke. Y/N bit her tongue, trying to remind herself that this was a conservative town and her outfit was very provocative. "Thanks, Hun. Anyway, I'd like-" The woman cut her off and put a hand on her hip.

"I'm just saying, young lady. That is a very immodest outfit. If I didn't know better, I'd think you work on the streets." Her southern drawl only made Y/N more irritated. Dean tried holding back a laugh, his beer nearly shooting out of his mouth.

"And I think you belong in a nursing home. Don't worry, hell has great hosts. I'd like some fries, please." She punctuated her statement with a flash of her eyes, the action earning a quiet gasp from Sam and roar of laughter from his brother.

"C-coming right up." The waitress murmured before skittishly running off, retreating to the back of the diner. "Damn, little lady. Didn't know you were that feisty!" Dean teased and she rolled her eyes. "Didn't know you were that reckless." Sam muttered and she sighed.

"Sammy, we're fine. What is she gonna do, call a priest on me?" Dean snickered some more. "You should really be more careful - for your safety." Sam warned, his brows knitted together.

"Awh, you care about me!" She cooed, a sarcastic undertone lacing her words. "We only just met, Sammy. We aren't that committed yet."

He shook his head and stared her down, his eyes so full and bright. "Those are the cutest puppy dog eyes ever." She added before kissing his cheek and excusing herself to the bathroom.

"Sammy's got a girlfriend..." Dean whispered in a sing-song voice, causing Sam to kick him under the table.

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Sam was researching in the library, books sprawled out on the desk in front of him. He was fiddling with a pen in his hands, a concentrated look on his face as he jotted down a few things on a notepad.

"Whatcha writing, Sammy?" Y/N asked. She was sitting on a bar above him, the ceiling only a few feet away from her head. Her legs dangled mindlessly in the air as she studied him.

He raised a brow and looked up at her. "What are you doing up there, Princess?" He questioned back, slouching back a bit in his chair. "Watching you." She responded with a huge smile, her eyes glistening in the bunker light.

"Why don't you come down from there, yeah?" He offered, patting his thigh gently as an invitation. She giggled and bit her lip, leaning forward. Her hands slid beneath the cool metal and grasped the edge behind her.

She swung downwards, hanging there for a minute before dropping to the ground. "If you insist." She danced her way over, her hands meeting his shoulders as she crawled into his lap.

He chuckled and his hand began rubbing her back. She nestled her head underneath his chin and skimmed over the pages he was reviewing. Her legs were hunched up, knees level with his upper chest and feet planted on his other thigh.

His free hand gently wrapped around her ankle, his digits resting on the hem of her sock as his thumb traced random patterns on her skin.

She reached over and grabbed his beer bottle, taking a long drag and twirling it between her fingers. "That's mine." He mumbled into her hair, his hand moving from her leg, covering hers as he tried to reclaim the bottle.

"No. I want it." She retorted, trying to move the bottle away. He plugged the top of the bottle with his thumb so it didn't spill, tugging it away from her. "Well, you don't always get what you want."

She huffed and crossed her arms, her elbow digging into his stomach. "I got you." She bickered and he smiled. He set the bottle down on the table and pulled her closer, one arm hooked around her belly.

"I guess you're right, Princess."

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A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed! This one was super fun to write <3 If you liked it, please follow, reblog and comment! All feedback is LOVED.

Send in requests if you have any! :)

[luveline]

hey jade! i loved your vampire!sirius fic it was so cute!! i know it’s not halloween anymore but could you write another one of vampire!sirius with that unphased reader please?

hi lovie!! for u

Sirius pushes you down by the throat, his eyes narrowed and his weight heavy on your stomach. You squirm beneath him, trying to push him off. 

"Ow…" You cover his hand. "Not so rough." 

"Sorry," he says, hand moving to your shoulder. His apology is genuine, soft as silk, as are his hands where they wander. "I just missed you." He tucks his arm behind your neck and leans in for a hug. 

You giggle. "Yeah? Me or my circulatory system?" 

"Don't say stuff like that!" He kisses you atop your pulse, the place he so often nibbles. "I missed you." 

You grab handfuls of inky hair and hug him back. You can't say you weren't expecting to be taken to bed the moment you got back, but you absolutely thought it would be for a feeding or some weird bloody fun. This is unexpected, but still nice. "You smell nice," you mumble, closing your eyes. 

He kisses your neck. His lips travel upward, nothing seductive or smooth about it —this is all clumsy, chaste sweetness, and it's knocking you off kilter. "I don't think you should go away again." 

"It was four days." 

"Have we been apart four days? Since we met?" 

No. You and Sirius have become that irritating weirdo couple that met and immediately fell in love, so to speak. You live in the other's lap, and you have no regrets thus far. It's odd how well you get along, but he's an odd creature, and you're worse if he's to be believed. My little freak never sounded so saccharine. 

Even when he pulls up to tower over you and that strange alarm bell in your head begins to ring, your adrenaline spikes, the glint of his sharp fangs and the predatory thinning of his irises activates an innate fight of flight, but in your head? You have no urge to move. It doesn't make any sense. "No," you answer, having almost forgotten. "We haven't." 

His cheek is scratchy in your hand. "And look at the consequences. I've been forced to drink from other people and you've taken up a barrage of exciting new boyfriends–" 

"Well, I haven't," you say, grinning at him. "You're the only boyfriend for me. I tried, but the supernatural find me so very off-putting. I can't imagine why." 

"Oh, you tried?" he asks, dropping his face to dig his nose under your jaw. He kisses you, but you know he's doing that as an afterthought, the nose jabbing his main prerogative. 

"Not really." You cup the back of his head. "Are you hungry?" 

"Would you stop it? I'm trying to express my love for you and you're desperate to play victim." 

"I'm just wondering." 

His fang scratches your skin, a graze. The blood it produces wouldn't so much as wet his fingernail, but he licks the wound to seal it and kisses straight up your cheek to the corner of your eye. "Please," he says, relaxing into your hold, "don't go on holiday again. At least for the next century." 

"So for the rest of my life?"

Sirius scoffs. "If you think I'd let you die an old crone, you're stupid. You're stuck with me forever." He doesn't sound quite as sweet when he says it like that, a solidness to his declaration that should give you goosebumps. "You belong with me." 

It should freak you out. What a strange thing to say. What a weird thing to picture. 

"You really don't want me around for my endless buffet?" you ask. 

"Don't be stupid. If blood were your most valuable trait I would've drained you the night we met. It's a little bonus for now, and in a few years when you're ready you'll drink some of my blood and be my wife for the rest of time." 

You lean back to look at him. "What if I'm ready now?" 

He moves to mouth kisses into your soft jaw. "Darling, why rush? You can only get more perfect." He laughs into his kisses, speaks smushed and warm into your skin, "What if I'm ready now?" he repeats, kiss-kiss-kissing. "You aren't scared of anything, are you, my love?" 

"I'm certainly not scared of you." 

"You might be scared of never eating crisps again though, hmm?" 

You think about it. "Alright. In a few years." 

"That's my girl." 

[linkspooky]

GREAT TEACHER, GOJO

For my final commentary on chapter 236, I thought I'd talk about this panel the starter of a million flame wars on twitter dot com. The big controversy is Nanami stating that Gojo fought only for himself without mentioning his students which a lot of people thought was a last minute reversal on Gojo's character, or character regression.

I'm not going to call anyone stupid, or say if you have good teacher Gojo headcanons you're wrong. However, I'd like to point out that Gojo's always been more complicated than most shonen mentors. He's not Kakashi, and he's not Aizawa, and I'd argue the fact that he's not the standard "I'd die to protect my students" mentor we see in shonen manga is what makes him interesting.

The Springtime of Youth

Jujutsu Kaisen is a shonen jump manga that is very aware of the other manga that are running in the same magazine and uses that awareness to play with audience expectations.

To put it simply if you don't want to use words like Deconstruction - if you're reading Jujutsu Kaisen then things are probably not going to go the way you expect them. It's not Naruto, it's not My Hero Academia, it's a little bit like Bleach except characters actually die.

If you expect things to go one way in Jujutsu Kaisen, then you're going to be thrown a curveball. To name some examples briefly before diving into Gojo.

Yuji Itadori is a normal boy protagonist suddenly dragged into the world of the supernatural.

However, everything goes wrong from there. Jujutsu Sorcerers are not heroes. Yuji is told that much from the beginning by Megumi within the first thirteen chapters. The world of Jujutsu Sorcery is not a good place to be, Yuji is initially excited to be a sorcerer and to be a part of this world and then learns that lesson fast. I mean, imagine if Deku was accepted to UA, and then he immediately learned that students at the school die on the regular and all the adults are either terrible selfish people, or if they're not they die too like Nanami because being selfless means sticking your neck out for someone else.

Yuji's not really special in the narrative. He's just a kid who swallowed a finger. He doesn't have a secret technique. We're hundreds of chapters in and he's still just punching people. If he's cornered in a fight he doesn't unlock a secret technique either, he just loses.

Yuji has a superpowered evil side, like the nine tailed fox, or Hollow Ichigo except it's not really his super powered evil side. It's an evil parasite attached to his soul with a will of its ownt hat will manipualte him. Hollow Ichigo and the Kyuubi can escape temporarily and there's usually no consequence. Sukuna escapes twice, the first time he nearly kills Megumi, the second time he kills thousands.

Yuji is kind of like a main character who is not a main character.

If you still believe he's the main character, then you can agree he's punished for thinking he's the main character and therefore things are going to be easy, because nothing is ever easy in Jujutsu Kaisen.

Megumi is a riff on the chosen one. He's supposed to be the Gojo Satoru of his generation, born with the strongest technique that ca even surpass the limitless and he's nowhere near the level he's supposed to be. This is because Megumi has been continually failed by every adult figure all his life, starting with his father who sold him, then Gojo the man who SAVED* him techically but with a big asterisk that he needed to become his student and do jobs for Jujutsu High School otherwise Gojo would just let the Zen'in take him or let them starve I guess. Megumi has no adult figures to rely on, and has been given very little freedom about who or what he wants to be in his life, and therefore he's a very passive, repressed individual who's riddled with insecurities. Megumi doesn't want to be the strongest like Gojo, or like many hero / rival characters in shonen manga. Megumi doesn't even know what he wants to be, because he's never been given any choice in life.

If you don't think Megumi's a deconstruction of any sort of character type, look at those posts on twitter that are like "Look at the black haired depressed shonen boys" and then look at Megumi, he's never actually like any of these boys because he's much deeper and probably closer to being the main character than Yuji is.

Then we get to Gojo who is very unlike all the other mentors in shonen manga.

If Yuji and Megumi are both riffs on a main character, a hero in a world so cynical he's not allowed to play hero and actively punished for it, and a chosen one who doesn't want to be the chosen one then you have Gojo as the mentor who's nothing like the classic mentor.

The problem with mentor characters in fiction is that number one they die a lot (spoiler warning Obi Wan Kenobi dies in Star Wars just so you know) and number two they're not usually the most complex character in the cast.

What is the mentor there for?

To Mentor (duh.)

What this means is they are usually a fully formed adult who can teach a lesson to the main character, who in shonen manga is typically a teenager.

I say they're usually less interesting because stories are about characters changing, or characters learning lessons. A teacher presumably already has learned his lesson. They are usually at the end of their journey and not the beginning, that's why they can offer wisdom to the main characters. They're not usually their own separate characters because of this - a narrative doesn't have time to waste on a character that's not going to change.

Jung had a term for this character, it's called the Wise Old Man.

In Jungian analytical psychology, senex is the specific term used in association with this archetype. Examples of the senex archetype in a positive form include the wise old man or wizard. In the individuation process, the archetype of the Wise old man was late to emerge, and seen as an indication of the Self. 'If an individual has wrestled seriously enough and long enough with the anima (or animus) problem...the unconscious again changes its dominant character and appears in a new symbolic form...as a masculine initiator and guardian, a wise old man, a spirit of nature, and so forth'.

The role of the wise man archetype is to help other people along with their ego development, because usually they are already fully developed individuals.

Obi Wan is the most typical of typical mentors, and he dies in Star Wars because after he finishes teaching Luke he has nothing to do. This is Luke's Hero's Journey. Obi Wan's already happened offscreen, he's at the end of his journey there's no room for change or growth in him because his story purpose is to exist to advise Luke and to do that he needs to be a fully grown adult figure.

The subversion to this when the mentor has their own agenda (Gandalf), or the mentor is as flawed as the main characters themselves and so therefore he has something to learn.

Gojo is kind of a combination of both, like Gandalf he is the mysterious but seemingly all powerful wizard (er... or rather sorcerer) with his own agenda, and he's also practically the fourth member of the main cast who are otherwise all teenagers. In fact, Gojo spells out his agenda in the same panels that everyone uses to constantly assert that Gojo is a good teacher who only wants to protect his students.

He wants to make the Jujutsu World a better place (good) which is why he is raising students so he can turn them into his political allies to make a regime change (hidden agenda).

It's a means justifies the end type scenario. In Gojo's mind the means (raising kids as tools in support of his political agenda) justifies the ends (a better jujutsu world for those children). His motivation is still the same. This is what I think people most often get confused about with Gojo's character. I think he is one hundred percent genuine about wanting a better world.

"I have a dream, I want to reset this crappy Jujutsu World" is his motivation, but not his means. He uses his students as a means to achieve that end. Even if it's purportedly for their sake, he's still using them. I don't even think this is subtext it's text, both Megumi and Yuji call themselves cogs.

"But senpai, what's your function...?"

You could say in this case that the ends don't justify the means. Is Gojo really protecting these kid's youth, if Yuji and Megumi are going around calling themselves cog and acting like they don't matter in the grand scheme of things? In fact the narrative is inviting you to question if Gojo's ends justify his means.

Gojo's ideals can be one hundred percent real, but he can also pick faulty ways of choosing those ideals that fail to live up to them. In fact most people fall short of ideals, that's why they're called ideals. Gojo is taking these kids in because they have strong potential as sorcerers and he wants to recruit them, that's his hidden agenda. It's confirmed in databooks in Yuji and Yuta's case, and even if you don't trust databooks as canon then look at how he treats Megumi.

Megumi is explicitly Gojo's student, not his son. He only intervened in Megumi's situation on the caveat that Megumi work for him. Presumably, if Megumi didn't want to be a sorcerer and just wanted to be a normal kid, Gojo would have either let the Zen'in have him or do nothing. The option of just calling child services and getting someone to foster Megumi until he was older didn't even seem to cross Gojo's mind. There's the help he gives (Food money, rent, protection from the Zen'in) and then the hidden agenda (Don't work for the Zen'in who are my political rivals, you're my student now).

Yet at the same time Gojo is shown going to find Megumi after Geto's defection, probably because of the words he said to Yaga "You can only save those who want to be saved," when he realized it was too late for Geto. Was he intervening earlier for Megumi because he learned from being too late with Geto? Did he think Megumi needed guidance, or did he think Megumi needed protection in his youth so the Jujutsu World wouldn't corrupt him like it did Geto, or did he think he just needed to make it so Megumi was strong so he wouldn't fall behind him because Geto fell so far behind him once Gojo became the strongest. There's ambiguity there, because the hidden agenda is you know... Hidden. That's what I mean with Gojo though, you can look at him from multiple angles, he's not just (I love my students I'd die for them) because that character would only have one purpose in the narrative and that'd be being the perfect mentor who teaches them all the right lessons.

Gojo's not like other mentors, and in fact he's a commentary on the mentors that everyone is always comparing him to and expecting him to be like.

Literally everyone who reads Naruto has the exact same response, "I hate how the manga never talks about how it's a bad thing to send these child soldiers into war, and nobody breaks the cycle."

There are a lot of people unhappy about the same thing in My Hero Academia, "Why does nobody talk about how wrong it is that the adults make these high school students fight on the battlefield."

Well there you go. That's Gojo. His dream is to make it so Jujutsu Society is a place where teenagers can survive until adulthood. His method of doing so is to... raise those teenagers to be stronger than the previous generation, but you know still letting them be child soldiers on the battlefield just stronger ones. He does this because if he's working within the system the his two choices are raise a group of people who can age out and replace the old regime, or just kill everyone at the top.

Everyone complains about how no one talks about the child soldiers in Naruto or My Hero Academia, but here you go, we have a manga that is centered around how messed up it is to send high school students to continually fight these curses before they even turn eighteen. Gojo's sending these kids out there still even if he wants to change things, and it's supposed to be a little messed up and also a contradiction to what his ideals are supposed to be.

Because in My Hero Academia you have characters like Aizawa and Kakashi who are "I will die for my students" but then they just send those teens out to fight in a war, and seem totally fine with that. It's a hole in the writing, but this time it's done on purpose, to ask why these adults are always comfortable sending teenagers out to fight for them?

Jujutsu Kaisen provides two answers, number one the system is inherently corrupt and it sees the youth as cogs because the system is rooted in traditions that keep the elderly in power. Number two, in Gojo's case at least this is exactly what it was like for him growing up as a child. Gojo is just repeating with his students what was done to him, subconsciously.

The reason Nanami said this, and then repeated it in this most recent chapter is Gojo was born to be a Jujutsu Sorcerer. Being a Jujutsu Sorcerer is a highly deadly occupation for everyone else, except for Gojo. Not only that but because he's so good at it, and he's so lauded for it he's built his entire identity around it. Nanami's not just saying that Gojo is selfish, he's also saying that Gojo thinks being a sorcerer is a good thing. It is the end all, be all of Gojo's existence.

He doesn't want to make it so sorcerers don't have to fight, or make it so all cursed energy is gone for the world like Yuki Tsukumo, his dream is actually kind of limited in scope he doesn't want the school days of his students to be destroyed by the outside world the way it was for him and Geto.

Gojo looks at the symptoms and not the cause. Geto defected, Haibara died, Yaga wasn't really able to do much for his students in both scenarios. Gojo deduced it was because the elders and regressive policies were holding people back in favor of keeping the regime in charge (correct) and that because of that the sorcerers in Gojo's high school years just weren't strong enough to keep up (this is just what Gojo thinks).

His words to Megumi are encouraging him to be strong so he won't get left behind, which as I speculated above might imply Gojo thinks that part of what went wrong with Geto was that he simply wasn't strong enough to keep up with Gojo or stay on his level. If not then he still encourages Megumi to get strong before everything else, he's not taking care of these kids emotional needs, he's pushing them to get stronger because in Gojo's mind that's the be all end all solution to every problem.

"Nanami's line was not saying that Gojo doesn't care about children, it's saying that "You live for Jujutsu." It is the lens through which Gojo sees everything, and so therefore he doesn't think of breaking kids out of the Jujutsu World, just making it a place that's slightly more safe for them. Gojo's ego is so strong that he only ever sees things from his point of view, being a sorcerer was fun for him, his high school days were the happiest time in his life before they got ruined by outside forces.

He's trying to protect those days for his children, but he's not arguing against the existence of an institution like Jujutsu High in the first place. He's not saying the teenagers should never be sent out on missions, he's saying we need to make the teens stronger. If they're stronger than they won't die (that's probably true but they'll be even safer if they don't have to go on missions in the first place).

Now we have a reason! Why do Aizawa and Kakashi send out child soldiers into the battlefield if their goal is to protect their students? Because it's a shonen manga and the main characters are all teenagers.

Why does Gojo send out teenagers to fight for him if he wants to protect them, well I just explained it.

In fact, the entire purpose of Nanami in the story is to give us a character who explicitly treats children like they are children and not miniature adults. Who acknowledges that this is emotionally hard for children to deal with and they shouldn't have to do that.

Nanami's lines of "I'm an adult you're a child" and "Being a child is not a bad thing." would not have the weight they carry if they weren't so different from the way that every other adult in the story (including Gojo) treats children.

Nanami and Gojo have the same goal of making being a Jujutsu Sorcerer easier for children, but Nanami practices what he preaches. He tells Yuji to stand back and that he doesn't need to fight if he sees an enemy that's too strong, to let the adult on scene handle things first.

When he sees that Yuji is disturbed by the idea of killing former humans that Mahito had changed with his technique, he consoles him. He knows that Yuji is a sensitive kid and tries to spare him as much of that grief as possible. When he leaves Yuji behind he tells him explicitly that he's the adult in this situation, he shouldn't be forcing a child to help carry that burden if it's not necessary.

He also explicitly tells Yuji that being strong or jumping into life threatening situations =/= as growing up. Nanami is a character aware that the problem isn't that the children are not strong enough, but that too much responsibility is being thrown on these children. That there is a difference between what children and adults are emotionally capable of. Gojo doesn't see that difference because he reached enlightenment as seventeen. He even explicitly chose Nanami because Gojo knew he wasn't good at that stuff.

Nanami was not saying that Gojo doesn't care about children, Nanami was saying Gojo lives to be a sorcerer, Gojo who loves sorcery doesn't understand why being a sorcerer is too much of an emotional burden on a child. He just doesn't. He literally says his students are flowers.

Now, here's the kicker. Nanami dies.

Nanami wanted Yuji to not take on too much responsibility, and he died leaving Yuji with more responsibility than he could ever carry. Nanami failed in his goal, despite the fact he is the most responsible and well-meaning adult in the story who treats children like they're children.

The reason he dies is because this is what happens to people like Nanami in Jujutsu Society. The whole of society is built to condition people into being cogs and Nanami who's just one person can't overcome it on his own. I can write a whole meta on how Nanami's way of dealing with children is way better than Gojo's and yet they do essentially the same thing, throw way too much responsibility onto Yuji even though he's just a kid. They're both too ingrained in the system to make any sweeping changes, and that's why the child soldiers keep on child soldiering.

Gojo as a Character

The second reason as eluded above that Gojo is not meant to be read as a perfect teacher, or even a good one really is because he's the fourth main character of the cast. If you are a main character, then you need a flaw, and an arc where you either improve upon that flaw or you succumb to it in tragic fashion.

Gojo's not the perfect adult mentor, because he's kind of in the same place as the kids themselves. I think there's a reason we never learn anything about Gojo's backstory, we know nothing about his parents, the Gojo clan, because those details aren't as relevant. The most important thing about Gojo is the three years he spent at high school, because that was the only time he felt like a person, and also because he is trapped there mentally.

There's a reason that Gojo's dying dream is him imagining everyone reset to seventeen years old, because that was where the clock stopped for him in his youth, and that was where all of his regrets as an adult come from. His motivation to help teenagers today only comes from his own youth being ruined, and the adults in his life failing to protect him.

It's very likely that Gojo who lives for Jujutsu probably would never have realized the problems in his current society, if his youth wasn't ruined by those same adults he's now fighting against.

The reason most mentor figures in fiction are not main characters is because as adults they don't really need to grow up anymore. The obvious solution is that you just need your mentor character to just fail to be an adult in some glaring way.

To show how Gojo falls short as an adult, especially in regards to these children and how he treats them is to drag him down from all powerful, all knowing wizard, and make him struggle with the rest of the main cast. Gojo is not a positive adult figure in these kids lives despite having the best of intentions, because he's not really an adult.

I guess if you were already the best and strongest person in the world at seventeen, smarter and more capable than all the adults around you, you wouldn't really feel the need to grow up. Coupled with the fact that you are alienated from other people and do not relate to them on a personal level that's not going to help with your identity formation.

I mean I constantly compare Gojo to Superman, but to be fair to Gojo instead of bullying him like I usually do Clark Kent was raised by parents who raised a boy not a superman, and who constantly tell him that he's just a normal person, his powers don't make him great, it's his heart.

Nanami says that Gojo only fights for himself that ""You don't wield Jujutsu to protect something, you use it solely to for your own sake. What a weirdo" it's likely Gojo only fights for himself because he's never ben told that's he's more than just the six-eyes and more than just the limitless.

The best way to make a mentor a part of the cast, is to make them through some way or another have failed to grow up properly in their youth and therefore they need to do it while the story is taking place. We know how Gojo failed, his springtime of youth ended early, it ended the day he couldn't stop Geto from leaving, the day he can be the strongest sorcerer ever and still fail because sorcerer society is too corrupt for one person to handle alone. We also know he didn't really grow up past this point, because he still thinks the solution is to make people be stronger. Why does he not do anything about Geto for 11 years? In story terms he's basically suspended in time unable to grow past Geto. Kenjaku literally uses the trauma from his youth and the memories that seeing Geto alive would provoke in Gojo again, to trap him because he knew it would make him freeze up. Gojo is frozen in the past, he failed to grow up in story terms and must now grow up while the main story itself is taking place along with the children he's trying to raise.

This is how you make a mentor interesting. You have to make them flawed in some way that makes it worth having them onscreen, because a perfect mentor only serves one purpose to teach a main character and then he's gone.

Dazai Osamu from Bungo Stray Dogs is a character that's almost as massively popular as Gojo. Similiarly, he is a teenage genius who found trouble relating to other people who is now as an adult attempting to mentor two children.

However, Dazai's faults as a mentor are made much more explicit.

Dazai suddenly punched Akutagawa in the face, preventing him from finishing his sentence. Akutagawa flew back onto the ground, his head bouncing off the stone flooring with a thud. "Perhaps I made it look like I wanted to hear excuses. Sorry for the misudnerstanding," Dazai said while rubbing his knuckles. "Urg..." Akutagawa moaned. He'd hit his head so hard that he couldn't even stagger to his feet. "Give me your gun," Dazai ordered one of his men. The subordinate was hesitant but nonetheless handed over his weapon. Next, Dazai removed the magaine from the automatic pistol, took out all but three bullets, then put the magazine back in. He immediately pointed the gun at Akutagawa, who was still on the ground. "I have this friend who's supporting several orphans all on his own, you see," he continued his weapon still drawn and aimed at the boy. "AKutagawa I'm sure Odasaku would've been patient enough to give you the guidance you needed had he been the one who'd found you on the brink of starvation right in the slums. That would have been the 'right' thing to do. But 'righteousness' doesn't take very kindly to me. And there's only one thing people like me do to useless subordinates." Dazai mercilessly pulled the trigger the moment he finished his sentence.

(Don't worry, Akutagawa lived). Dazai is a character who had a troublesome youth he never grew up from. He was too smart for the world as a kid, and because of that joined up with the mafia because he wanted to feel like he was more connected to life and other people by getting closer to death (weird dazai logic I know) and was the best of the best at it, but it only drove him further away from people. He makes one friend, and loses that friend similiar to Gojo. Just like Gojo too, that friend is the one who gives him his purpose as an adult that drives him to mentor young people.

"Odasaku.. What should I do?" "Be on the side that saves people," Odasaku replied, "If both sides are the same, then choose to become a good person. Save the weak, protect the orphaned. You might not see a great difference between right and wrong, but... saving others is something just a bit more wonderful."

Is this not what Nanami said just in different words. Odasaku tells Dazai point blank, I know you're selfish, I know that you don't really have any concept of good or evil but you can choose to save others anyway.

Isn't this what Gojo does?

He is selfish. He doesn't really consider the morality or his actions or get hung up on the idea of protecting the weak like Nanami or Geto do, but he still does go out of his way to live for the ideal of saving children.

Both Gojo and Dazai are characters who are struggling with this ideal of saving the children, because while their ideals are good they themselves as people are morally gray. Adding onto that, they're also children and a good deal of their backstory is devoted to showing why they never really grew out of the mindset that they held as children.

The story doesn't call them horrible monsters for it, it's just saying that they need to grow up or face the consequences of not growing up.

"I have one regret," I said. "I never got to say good-bye to my friend. He was always there for me as 'just a friend.' He was bored of this world and always waited for death to come for him." "That man was in search of a place to die just like me?" "No, not exactly," I answered. "I thought you were similiar to Dazai at first, rushing into battle and wishing for death without even considering the value of your own life. But he's different. He's sharp-witted with a mind like a steel trap. And he's just a child - a sobbing child abandoned in the darkness of a world far emptier of the world we're seeing." He was too smart for his own good. THat was why he was always alone. The reason why ANgo and I were able to be by his side was that we understood the solitude that surrounded him, and we never stepped inside it no matter how close we stood. But in that moment, I kind of regretted not stepping in and invading a little.

Does that sound like the narrative is condemning Dazai for being who he is? No, it's Dazai's best friend offering empathy and understanding for how lonely it must be, and how if Dazai made real connections with people then he could have a chance of growing up like everyone else. That's what the narrative challenges Dazai to do while empathizing with why it's harder for him to and why he's still trapped in his youth, because to take care of children you need to be an adult yourself. Otherwise if you're a child, and I'm a child, then nobody's driving the plane.

Rupert Giles from Buffy the Vampire Slayer is another mentor who faces the same moral dilemna that Gojo does. In fact his entire character revolves around the fact he knows deep down he's sending a kid to her early grave.

Buffy is the Chosen One TM. One girl in all the world is chosen to fight the vampires. Much like sorcerer society, there is an entire bureaucracy dedicated to identifying the chosen slayer and then raising her up and guiding her as a weapon to be used against the threat of vampires and demons.

The watchers are all adults. The slayer is a teenage girl. The slayer slays. The watchers watch. Just like in Jujutsu Kaisen, there is a necessity for the Slayer to exist, because the alternative is just letting vampires eat people. Yet even if the slayer needs to exist, at the end of the day a bunch of adult men are sending a teenage girl to fight for them.

All Slayers die young. All of them without an exception. No matter how good of a mentor is, no matter how much he cares about her, Buffy is going to die one day, and Giles is going to watch. Because that's what the watcher does, they watch. Sending her on missions means Buffy's in danger, not sending her means innocent people are in danger.

It's a scenario that's pretty much like Gojo's, and the narrative of Buffy makes it explicit that Giles really can't be a father figure to bufy in this scenario. A father would have to choose to put their child above the world and keep them safe, not send them out straight into danger.

It is a choice that Giles makes over and over again. He is always her watcher and never her father. There's a season 3 episode where Giles literally drugs Buffy as a part of a test to prove she is "worthy" of being a slayer. A test that deliberately puts her in harms way that he complies with - because the system told him to. A choice to be her watcher and act according to what the council of watchers wanted and not what Buffy wanted. A choice that shatters the illusion that Buffy had of him, showing her that Giles is only there to teach her to be a Slayer, not to take her to the iceapades or buy ice cream with her.

In this scenario Gojo is very much like Giles as no matter how much he may personally like these kids, he is not their father, and there is only so much he can do for them when he's still feeding them into the same system. Giles loves Buffy, Giles wants to protect Buffy, Giles is a part of the system that exploits Buffy. Giles is an adult asking Buffy to risk her life to save the world.

Gojo goes out of his way to recruit Megumi, Yuji, and Yuta among others. Gojo still doesn't let them be anything other than sorcerers, and as sorcerers they're still guaranteed to one day die and probably die young. Gojo wants to revolutionize the system he is, but he still sends out his students to do missions as part of that system. He's not letting them escape it, he's just making them be stronger sorcerers.

Not only is Gojo not a father figure to Megumi, he is exploiting him more or less. The option of Megumi not being a sorcerer isn't on the table. No matter how well-intentioned he may be, or how good his ideals are he's still an adult telling a child to make a sacrifice for the world.

So, there are two character conflicts with two different mentors that both reflect Gojo. Gojo cannot grow up because he's still trapped in the tragedy of his youth. He himself is not an adult, for various reasons (lack of connection to other people, trauma in his youth) he's egocentric like a child but there are children in his life who need him to be.

Gojo also cannot be a proper adult, because he is part of a system that exploits children. We see what the system does to proper adults like Nanami, he shows us just how much well-intentioned adults struggle to help kids under sorcerer society so how about Gojo who thinks being a sorcerer is really fun. A proper adult would never send kids on those missions, they'd find some way to shield them but Gojo cannot do that. Because sorcerers are short staffed and innocent people will die if he doesn't. Because Gojo isn't the sorcer-king of Jujtusu Society and is working within it to affect change. There are reasons, but still Gojo is failing to live up to his desire to protect children because he's not doing what a responsible adult should do in this situation.

Gojo's failures are two-fold, and yet it's because of those failures that he was a main character who got as much special plot attention as he did. If Gojo was a perfect teacher he wouldn't be a character. After all, we relate to the struggles of other human beings we see onscreen in television and in movies so why would we care about a perfect character?

Gojo has a lot more to say about teachers in shonen manga, and also about childhood vs. adulthood as a bad teacher struggling to be a good one, then a teacher who's already perfect. Nanami said those lines because he wanted us to understand the audience that this is who Gojo is, he is a selfish and egotistical person who nonetheless was trying to do good things.

[heartbreakgrill]

out of the woods: theo raeken.

1989 (Heartbreak Grill’s Version)

looking at it now it all seems to simple. we were lying on your couch. i remember.

“i have to go.”

theo groaned as the words left my lips. his arms, wrapped securely around my waist, tightened their grip as he inhaled a hopeless breath.

“no,” he nudged my neck with his nose, eliciting a soft giggle from me. “no, stay, please.”

“theo,” i wriggled away from his ticklish touches, “i have to go.”

i tried to remove myself from his grasps, but he was strong. his large, warm hands, slid over my bare stomach, gripping onto my hips. he pressed my back into the mattress, as my wrestling arms came to rest on his shoulders. he had been growing out his hair and now it hung low enough to ghost over my collarbones. i shivered as the strands drug across my skin, theo’s lips attached to my neck.

“theo,” i persisted, “scott gets off at 8. he’s going to come into my room and check if i’m there. when i’m not, he’s going to notify every single supernatural within a thirty mile radius, and every policeman within the county. they will be on your doorstep by 8:15, and i will be dead.”

as i spoke, i continued to try to fight theo’s strong hold, lifting my body from the mattress, and pushing back at his shoulders. my words seemed like a good enough threat to get him moving.

“i don’t want you to go,” he moved to the edge of the bed, feet flat upon the floor.

i stood and gathered my clothes, occasionally tossing him pointed glances, “as much as i enjoy this- i would prefer to not die tonight. i have a chemistry exam tomorrow. here-“

theo rolled his eyes as i tossed his boxers to him. it landed on top of his head. i stifled a laugh and tugged on my jeans.

theo ripped the boxers off and mocked my laughter, “haha, very funny.”

i shrugged and stuck my head through my t-shirt. “listen,” i made my way towards the front door of theo’s tiny, studio apartment. it wasn’t much, but it beat sleeping in his truck every night, like he had been doing. i laced up my shoes, “i should be able to see you tomorrow night. i’ll text you, though, let you know what’s happening.”

theo noticed i was reaching for the door handle and quickly shimmied into his boxers. he slapped a hand against the door, “wait!”

it slammed shut. i looked up at him, an expectant expression on my face. “yeah?”

theo caught my chin in his hands, and planted a sweet kiss on my lips. i melted into the moment, leaning my weight into his hold, allowing my fingers to gently ghost his chest. however, as soon as theo moved to deepen the exchange, my phone started ringing.

my eyes flew open, a wide, worried look taking over my dazed face. i held out a finger towards theo, as if to shush him, as i answered the call.

“hello? oh, hi, scott,” i shot theo a glance. he crossed his arms, figure shrunk in a guilty demeanor. “no, yeah- i’m on my way home now. oh, chinese sounds good. yep- no, yeah. just gotta shower first. just- with gina. yep. studying. chem exam tomorrow! yep. yeah. k. love you! bye.”

i stared at my phone for a second, as though scott were going to climb out of it and kill theo for even being in the same room as me. when that didn’t happen, i let out a deep breath.

“okay,” i looked to the boy, “i have got to get going. i’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“yeah,” theo couldn’t help but grin down at me, “tomorrow.”

i noticed his body tilt towards mine, his chest lean towards me, and i held up a finger, cocked a brow. “don’t even think about it or i will never get out of here.”

i could hear him groaning as i shut the door behind me.

��

you took a polaroid of us, then discovered the rest of the world was black and white, but we were in screaming color.

“what are you doing for your birthday?”

i balanced the popcorn bowl on my lap as i twisted around on the couch. theo glanced over at me from the fridge, flashing that bright, wide grin.

i couldn’t help but smile, though nothing special really was happening. “not sure yet. why do you ask?”

“just wondering.”

i stared at the back of his stooped, trying to read between the lines of his very few words. theo could feel my gaze, could hear my curious heartbeat, and looked up against. “what?”

i slowly brought a piece of popcorn to my lips, brows furrowed, “why are you asking?”

“nothing,” he reached into the fridge and grabbed a can of coke. the door shut softly behind him. he neared the couch and cracked open the drink. i continued to stare him. “why do you keep staring at me like that?”

“because i know it’s not nothing,” i set the bowl down on the coffee table and came up onto my knees. theo tilted his head and peered down at me. “you’ve got stuff on your mind. say it. let it out into the open. this is a judgement free zone.”

he chuckled softly as i gestured to the tiny apartment. “not exactly a zone as is.”

i reached up and smacked his forearm. “just tell me! please?”

theo took another sip of his coke, thinking intensely. “there’s really not much to say. i was just thinking how your birthday is coming up and i wanted to maybe do something special for you.”

“wait, really?” i perked up, elbows pressed into the back of the couch and chin planted upon my palms. “aw, wait really?”

theo rolled his eyes, “yes, really. but, i know you guys probably have stuff planned. so, i was just trying to get a feel for when we could fit something in.”

“no one’s said anything to me about any plans. though,” my mind wandered a bit, and the stupid hope theo’s healing heart always gave me filled my lungs, “if they do figure something out, i don’t see why you couldn’t just come to that..?”

theo’s soft face hardened slightly, a gut wrenching frown painting his pink lips. “yeah…i don’t know about that. liam still wants me dead. scott and stiles hate me- not to mention malia and lydia probably would be happy to kick me in the balls.”

i thought over the words, imagining each scenario play out. he was right. “yeah…” i trailed off, “yeah, i don’t think that would happen. i just-“

i struggled to find my words, gaze distant, hope shattered. “i don’t know-“

“i know,” theo touched my cheek, fingers cold from the can of coke now in his other hand. “i know.”

“i’m tired of hiding, theo,” my voice came out quiet and timid, expressive to how i was truly feeling. it was exhausting, constantly sneaking around, always being on the lookout for scott.

“i know, baby,” he squatted down to my level, holding my face with both hands, now. his thumbs brushed over the apples of my cheeks, eyes catching my distant ones. “listen…i know it’s hard, but…they just don’t understand it, okay? they wouldn’t get it. you- you put your faith in me when i didn’t deserve it. if it wasn’t for you, if it wasn’t for your hope, i don’t think i would be the man i am today. you saw a lost, broken boy and you helped me get back on my feet. you helped me make up for every wrong i’ve done. i…”

he didn’t continue any sentence. he just pressed his lips together. my heart fluttered at the anticipation of what it could’ve been he wanted to say.

“i just wish…” i gathered some thoughts, “i wish they’d give you a chance.”

“one day,” theo kissed me shortly, “i think…one day, it’ll happen.”

we curled up on the tiny couch, fit for his small apartment, and watched a movie. i lay in the crevice of his side, clutching to his body like it would be taken from me. often, i worried that that would happen. scott would catch us, committing no crimes, and juror theo to a fate worse than death. it seemed so silly- scott was the sworn protector of this town. he always ensured everyone’s happiness, health, prosperity. yet, when it came to me, those guarantees fell short. he’d rather i be holed up in my room, or holed up at school, my nose in a book, than i live, than i date or work or go out with friends.

it made everything so complicated. it made my life complicated- i had rules to follow, i had curfews, i had to answer the phone every time he called or the entire world would fall apart. i understood my brother just wanted me to be safe, to stay alive- but he was ruining my life while trying to save it.

i looked up towards theo, worry swimming through my eyes. he turned his head at my own shuffling and smiled, though it faded at the sight of my worried face.

“hey, hey,” he shifted his body towards mine, “baby…it’s okay. hey…everything’s gonna be okay, yeah? i won’t let anything ruin this, okay?”

“i’m just worried he’s gonna take you away from me…”

“i know,” theo brushed the hair from my face, “i know, but i won’t let him. i…”

that unfinished thought again.

i set my hands upon theo’s shoulder, worry being coaxed down by the affection i felt for him. “i love you,” i admitted.

theo’s face softened, the gold flecks in his eyes on fire from my confession. he pulled my face closer towards his, rushing out a response before crashing our lips together.

“i love you.”

–

and i remember thinking: are we out of the woods yet? are we in the clear yet good?

“i saw theo today.”

i looked up from my plate, eyes widened in curiosity. i flicked my gaze between lydia, scott, stiles, malia, and liam. everyone paused from eating their food. they focused on lydia’s words.

scott straightened his stooped neck. his thick brows were furrowed with inquiry, “really? where?”

“the store,” lydia spoke pointedly. “he was buying a dozen roses from the supermarket.”

“well, at least we know he’s a cheap date,” stiles was quick to nip.

i felt my face grow warm, both from worry and frustration. i shoveled some noodles into my mouth.

malia poked at her straw, “what’s he doing here? i thought he left?”

“i think we all did,” scott sighed. he wiped a napkin across his face. “did he have any other groceries?”

lydia rolled her eyes towards the ceiling, as if to recite the items she saw in his cart. “eggs, milk, icing, chicken nuggets, a loaf of bread, and, i think, penne noodles. could’ve been elbow macaroni, though. couldn’t really tell.”

a smile creeped onto my face as i pieced together the groceries. i was supposed to see theo tonight, though i’d told mom and scott i was going to gina’s for a sleepover. i guess i had a birthday cake and flowers to look forward to.

everyone thought for a moment. then, stiles cracked another lame joke, “hey, maybe he’s going to make up for nearly killing y/n by baking her a cake!”

i choked on my water. scott reached a concerned hand over to pat my back. i pressed a napkin to my face and coughed erratically. “you okay?” scott brushed hair form my cheek.

i nodded wildly, “yep- yeah. yep! great. good. sorry.”

scott patted my back again before returning to the conversation. “for his sake, i hope he isn’t planning on doing that. i hope he isn’t planning on contacting any of us. if he does, you all need to tell me- immediately, okay? stiles, let your dad know he’s lingering around. y/n-“

i sniffled from my coughing fit. “yeah?”

scott’s face was lined with a deepened worry, brown eyes swimming with concern for me. “i don’t think i want you going to gina’s tonight. or anywhere but school for the time being. not until we know what theo’s doing here.”

my brows furrowed tightly, “what? no! what- why- how is that fair? no- scott. i can’t-“

“mom will agree,” scott cut me off. “i’m not risking anything.”

“but…” i went to continue to argue my case, but scott continued rattling off instructional orders to the rest of the group.

and, so, my birthday dinner turned into driving to the sheriff’s station with the entire pack. sitting in stilinki’s office until we figured out where theo was living. we drove to the street and patrolled his apartment until 1am. then, stiles dropped scott and i off at home.

nobody even sang me happy birthday.

looking at it now, last december, we were built to fall apart. then fall back together.

“it’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.”

“theo,” i grinned as i took a box from him. a big red bow adorned the glittery wrapping paper. it wasn’t heavy, and the size of the box was quite small. but my heart lit on fire from the lovely gesture. “you really shouldn’t have.”

“no, i wanted to,” he waved me off. “you deserve…so much. the world.”

i met his eyes and recognized that familiar, glistening adoration i’d gotten so used to. “i just…feel bad. you don’t have much money, and-“

“it doesn’t matter,” theo pressed a hand to my knee.

we were criss-cross on the couch, sparse christmas decorations scattered through his tiny apartment. i’d insisted on lining tinsel across the door, lights around the tv console, putting the fake tree in the already crowded corner. i hadn’t been able to come over much and wanted theo to be able to feel some semblance of joyous occasion when i wasn’t there. this was the first time we’d seen each other since thanksgiving.

i only managed to escape the house because i convinced scott that gina and i had to spend christmas together.

“open it!” theo squeezed my knee again.

i giggled at his excited stature and quickly unraveled the bow. inside, amidst the folds of a velvet box, was a necklace with the letter t hanging off of a gold chain. i grinned at the sight, “oh, my gosh! here- put it on me!”

i held my hair from my shoulders as theo clipped the necklace at the nape of my spine. his cold fingers ghosted across my skin until his palms were around my shoulders. he tugged my back into his chest, laying us down upon the couch.

your necklace hanging from my neck, the night we couldn't quite forget when we decided to move the furniture so we could dance.

silence enveloped our presence, a comforting feeling of peace that we rarely had. “i love you, theo,” i let myself whisper. i tried to say it more often than not, worried that one day i wouldn’t be able to remind him of it.

“we should tell scott.”

i pulled myself up, out of theo’s hold, turning to face him on the couch. i was bewildered. my face surely showed it, “what?”

theo ran a hand through his hair, “i think we should tell scott, y/n.”

i shook my head slightly, “no, no. no- we can’t do that. theo- no.”

his tone became increasingly critical, disagreeing with my own disapproval. “why not? im tired of hiding-“

“he’ll kill you, theo,” i rushed out. my breathing was anticipatory in it’s quick speed. “scott will kill you, theo.”

“i don’t know. he’s…merciful. i think if we tell him, we can-“

“theo, no!” i jumped from the couch. “please, just stop. i don’t want to fight about this with you. it’s not happening. end of stor-“

“why does that get to just be your decision? why don’t i get to have a say in this relationship? it’s all up to you!” theo followed me from our seats. he spoke wildly, his hands moving with his words.

i crossed my arms, “i risk everything every single day that i text you. i put myself on the line just to see you. i’m lying to my brother, my best friend- my mom! theo- i thought you understood-“

“i’m just tired of being your little secret. i want to be able to- to see you. i want to come to your birthday dinners and spend christmas morning with you. i want to be in your life. i feel like i’m just on the sidelines!”

“maybe you shouldn’t have tried to kill all of us!”

the words blurted from my lips before i could stop them. the stale silence that followed my heartless thoughts was bitter and cold. theo turned his shoulder from me, dropping his head into his hands.

“oh, my god,” i stepped forward, bracing my hands for impact. “i’m so sorry. theo- i-“

“i thought you’d forgiven me,” he murmured into his palm. “you told me you forgave me for that.”

“i did- i did, i just- i’m sorry! i don’t know why i said tha-“

“maybe scott’s right,” theo met my eyes finally, tears blurring his green ones.

“what-?”

“maybe i never will change. maybe i’m just a bad guy. maybe it’s not a good idea for you to be around me.”

“no, theo, no-“ he kept interrupting me.

“you should leave.”

i couldn’t find the words to stay, but i needed to.

i stepped forward, again, touching theo’s shoulder. he whipped his head back to face me, beautiful eyes darkened by the yellow hue, fangs protruding from his teeth, claws digging into his palms that were beginning to bleed.

“get out!” he roared.

i flinched, throwing myself back a few feet. my hands were shaking. i quickly gathered my things, never turning my back from the monstrous boy standing before me. his chest heaved with anger. he glared.

for the first time in a long time, i was scared of theo.

so, i ran.

baby, like we stood a chance; two paper airplanes flying. and i remember thinking…

“are you awake?”

scott knocked upon my bedroom door.

i rolled over in my bed, away from the sound of his voice, away from his incessant worry.

i knew he could hear my heartbeat. i knew he could smell my pheromones.

i ignored him. he had his answers. i wanted to be left alone.

scott sighed. “please talk to me.”

i didn’t want to.

“well,” he tried to sound cheery, but it failed, “i’ll be out here when you’re ready.”

weeks had passed.

silence had followed.

scott was always wondering why i didn’t go to study group with gina. mom worried why i didn’t want to eat my favorite dinner on thursday nights. stiles was confused when i would voluntarily tag along on patrols with him and scott. when we’d pass theo’s house, i’d press my headphones into my ears and drown the two teenage boys out.

lydia drug me to the mall the following week. scott had told everyone he was worried i was depressed. but he didn’t know why.

i knew why.

i didn’t text theo. and he didn’t try to reach me.

i let the necklace pool in my makeup drawer. my fingers ghosted over it every morning, and i’d flinch as though it burned me. it just made me brain flicker with unwanted memories.

i had nightmares about him.

he’d come into my room and tear me apart.

he’d kill scott right in front of me.

he’d rip my mom’s throat out during dinner.

i dreamed of him, too.

of his arms, the contradictory peace i felt from his fingers. i knew, deep down inside, that his threatening demeanor wasn’t real. it was a projection of his innermost insecurities, his frustration because he could only ever have parts of me.

but i was still terrified. it took me back to a time in my life when theo really was the villain. back to the night when the dread doctors nearly killed me. it reminded me of things i’d worked hard to get over.

it felt like last year, only this time, my heart was broken, too.

i don’t know why i thought it would work. bad people never changed. they’d maybe give you a hurricane eye, false hope that things would be clearing up, the storm would pass. and, then, their true, dark colors would appear like the rain. thundering down on you.

i thought back to months ago, when i first let him in. i’d run into him at the grocery store, like lydia. he was buying tuna fish and a potted plant. he had a certain soil type in his cart. i didn’t recognize him at first, mostly because i’d blocked his face from my memory, and his hair had grown out. he was hiding beneath his hoodie, too.

are we out of the woods yet? are we in the clear yet? good.

“that soils gonna kill that plant.”

i peered over at the stranger’s cart, my own basket swinging from my arm.

“oh!” he looked up from the cereal box in his hands, surprised by my voice.

his brows furrowed, friendly smile faltering slightly. “oh. uh…” he wasn’t quite sure what to say.

i chuckled shortly, “sorry to startle you? i just…don’t want to watch this poor guy be carted off to his death.”

theo looked at the plant as i pointed to it. he set the cereal down in his car, shook his head once, and met my eyes again, “oh. that’s okay. um…would you mind telling me what soil i need?”

“yeah, of course. cmon.”

i marched us off to the plant aisle. as we walked across the entire supermarket, i told him all about my plant collection at home. i shared personal details of my life, remarked as he brought up his own stories.

then, i found the small bag easily, and dumped it into his cart, shoveling the other one back onto the shelf.

he thanked me with this sweet grin. “wow, uh, thank you, so much. any other tips?”

his smile twisted into a smirk, something friendly, nothing too extreme. but, it’s what clicked my memories together. i recognized him then.

i frowned and took a slow step back, “um. sorry…”

i quickly turned on my heel and raced away from the aisle. theo was hot on my heels. he chased me with his cart, stumbling over apologies that i was sure didn’t mean anything. “wait- no! y/n! i’m sorry! please! please let me-! i’m so sorry!”

i tried to pull my phone from my pocket to call scott, but it clattered to the floor. i skidded to a stop, dropping to my knees to grab it. the basket in my arm tipped and everything sprawled across the floor.

i reached for my phone and cursed at the mess. his hand came down over mine. he shot his grip back, apologizing. “i didn’t mea-“

“leave me alone.”

i don’t know how he convinced me to go to dinner with him.

remember when you hit the brakes too soon? 20 stitches in the hospital room. when you started crying, baby, i did, too. but, when the sun came up i was looking at you.

“i think we should talk.”

i glanced over at lydia, thumbs pressing into my thighs anxiously. i sucked in a breath, cold air drowning in my lungs. the wipers rubbed over the window wildly, rain pouring down outside. the radio played softly.

i watched a raindrop race down the window, then glanced over at lydia. “about what?”

she met my eye for a second. she looked like she knew something i didn’t want her to. i gulped.

“you know i…” she trailed off. she licked her teeth in an attempt to find her words, carefully. “i can see things, y/n.”

i sucked in another breath. i couldn’t get enough. i should’ve known this would happen. lydia didn’t just get premonitions of death. if she was connected to somebody enough, like me, she could see flashes of secrets.

“yeah…” i whispered.

“i don’t…” lydia struggled to speak, “i don’t know what to say, necessarily. i only know bits and pieces. like…christmas. he- he wanted to hurt you. but, then- at the grocery store. he was gonna bake you a cake. wha- please tell me what happened, y/n.”

i explained the situation with a shaky voice, fingers rubbing one another in a ruminating anxiety. lydia just listened intently. i was worried she was going to turn the car around, drive us back home to tell scott. i’d get holed up in my room while the pack went on a man and wolf hunt.

but, when i was finished, lydia just stared off at the road.

“well?” i pressed.

she glanced at me, again, “wow. i don’t…i don’t know what to say. i just…i’ve loved some bad people, y/n. one of them- died. the other moved to london, but…but they did change. i changed them, i’d like to think. they became good people. but, i think that’s because they were good people, in their core. they were just scared…i know you probably know theo better than i do, but…i don’t know. he killed his sister. if he were a real wolf, his eyes would be blue, y/n. he came to this town to kill your brother. to take our pack. and he nearly killed you. so many of our classmates’ lives ended because of theo. i just- he’s…”

as she spoke, images flashed through my mind.

two months ago, theo and i had drove three hours outside of town to go to the movie theater. as we walked inside, we saw a little girl sitting upon the curb. she was leaned over, sobbing into her hands. i didn’t know what to do. i was never really good with kids.

theo dropped my hand, ignoring the end of our conversation. he marched over to her, squatted down to speak to her. i couldn’t quite hear what he said, but she looked up at him with these huge, sad eyes. tears stained her face.

theo stood. he offered her his hand. she took it gladly.

he talked to her, quietly, as they walked inside. i followed closely. we stood with the movie theater attendants while they found the girl’s mom.

later, theo showed me a photo of his sister that he kept tucked within a book in his bedroom. it was the only thing he had left of her. that, and the awful memory of what he’d done to her.

she looked to be the age of that little girl, the one who squeezed theo like an old friend before running off to her mommy. she kissed his cheek. she thanked him.

“every night, i have nightmares about…”

i remember holding him through these terrifying dreams…

“about what i did to her. i regret it- i regret it, y/n. if i could give my life to get her back i- i would do it in a heartbeat. i…i’m so sorry of who i am. of where i’ve been and what i’ve done. i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry. i wish..i wish we could start over. i wish i could meet you in another lifetime, one where none of this ever happened.”

i held his face in my hands, gently, “theo…it’s okay. we all…we’ve all done things that we wish we could take back. we can only deal with the consequences, and make the best of it. i love you- i love you so much. i forgive you.”

remember when we couldn’t take the heat? i walked out. i said, ‘i’m setting you free.’ but the monsters turned out to be just trees. when the sun came up- you were looking at me.

“theo is…”

lydia didn’t quite finish her sentence, but my i did with my own sad realizations. “scared. he’s scared. he’s…he’s been fighting his whole life. he was just a…just a boy when the dread doctors found him. they manipulated him and- and, god. i-i was helping him and then…god, i’m so mean. i let your guys’ threats against theo ruin my own beliefs. and i let it ruin us…lydia- i-“

“i’m sorry,” she said. it was sincere. “i didn’t…i didn’t know. i’m so sorry, y/n. don’t blame yourself for how it ended. you…you had every right to say what you did. it was his choice as to how he reacted to it. and he pushed you away.“

“but, but- i could have stayed. i could have helped him. we could have worked it out- i need to go see him. lydia, please- take me home-“

lydia screamed.

my eardrums burst.

blood dripped down my jaw, staining the collar of my jean jacket. the tired squealed against the slick pavement. the car went over the side of the road, flying through an empty field, and crashing down on it’s head. broken glass scraped across my face. the seatbelt nearly choked me as our bodies twisted upside down with the car.

i was awake for a mere moments after the car stilled. the radio continued to play soft, haunting melodies. the rain pattered, splashing my face.

the only thing i could picture was theo’s face.

it was almost as if he was right there before me.

when i woke, i was in a hospital bed. i couldn’t quite open my eyes. my head was pounding and the florescent lighting stung my vision. the cuts in my skin thumped with my heartbeat. the iv in my arm felt thick, heavy, cold fluids running in my veins.

above the annoying beeping of the machines attached to my body were two voices. angry voices. arguing voices.

theo and scott.

“no, i don’t think you understand, theo! get out! i don’t want you anywhere near my sister! you- i don’t trust you! this probably happened because of you!”

my eyes shot open.

theo stepped back as scott yelled in his face. his tone was more calm than my brother’s, hands raised defensively, yet in a surrendering offer with his palms facing the ceiling. “scott, please, just-“

“no! get out! leave! before i make you!” scott’s hands were shaking with anger. he seethed, chest rising up and down wildly.

i tried to move, but my body paralyzed. words wouldn’t come, either, because a breathing mask was over my mouth.

“scott-!” theo tried, once more.

scott growled, eyes turning red, ears pointing up towards the moon in the window. he was completely transformed. i knew how dangerous that was. i knew how angry he was.

my eyes shot towards the doorway as mom quickly entered. she stopped before scott, placing her hands on his shoulders gently, “scott…honey, cmon, you’ve gotta breathe, okay? i’ve got a hospital full of patients and the last thing i need is to have the night janitor clean up after two werewolves.”

“then tell him to leave!” scott pointed a claw at theo.

mom looked towards the boy, brows furrowing in anger. she composed herself better. “theo…” mom spoke warily, “you need to leave. now.”

“no, you don’t understand! i didn’t do this! i-i brought her here! if i wanted to kill her, why would i bring her here!”

“to save your ass!” scott roared.

i examined theo’s face as it tilted towards the light. tears shone on his cheeks. mom pushed scott back an inch, “no, scott! hey, honey, cmon! he’s- he’s telling the truth. he brought her here- he didn’t try to kill her, scott!”

“then what did?”

“a deer,” mom spoke blankly. she pursed her lips. the confession was awkward, humanized compared to what we were all used to.

scott straightened his posture, transforming back into a human. his breathing evened out. “oh. i’m….”

theo sighed, ran a hand over his face. “look…i know you hate me. and you have every right to. but…i just…i’m not leaving. i’m staying.”

he took a step towards my bed. scott moved in front of him, blocking me. “stay away from her.”

“scott,” mom examined theo’s face as he met my eyes. he breathed out a sigh of relief and quickly grabbed my hand.

theo dropped to the chair beside my bed, clutching my fingers in his. he pressed his forehead to my touch, mumbling gratitude beneath his breath.

“i thought i lost you,” theo whispered.

mom and scott watched. mom crossed her arms over her chest, a wondrously pleased expression in her eyes. she glanced at scott. he gasped at our interaction.

i blinked away a tear. theo kissed the back of my hand. “i really thought i lost you. god- i’m…i’m never letting you leave me again. i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry for scaring you. i promise, i promise it’ll never happen again. i’m never gonna let go of you, i’m never gonna push you away again, okay? i love you.”

i nodded gently, unable to do much else. my fingers wriggled in his hands. he squeezed mine.

scott stepped forward, “theo…”

theo met scott’s eyes. he huffed, “please. please just five minutes. i’ll leave if you want me to, but…please, scott just give me five minutes, okay? you can chase me out of beacon hills, to the ends of the earth, but please let me have five minutes with my girl.”

scott went to say something else, but mom grabbed his bicep. “five minutes.”

she began leading then to the hall, scott following begrudgingly. she looked over her shoulder to tell theo, “five minutes and then we have a lot to talk about, okay? starting with you’re gonna start going to therapy and i have a 24 pack of condoms in my office.”

my face turned beat red.

theo laughed, a relieved, gentle sound i had missed for far too long. he met my eyes again.

“i love you.”

you were looking at me. i remember. are we out of the woods yet? are we in the clear yet? good.

[jessejaredstories]

One Last Adventure

“Did you find anyone yet?”

“Not yet babe, I’m still looking.”

I flipped through the pages of my old high school yearbook while my boyfriend Jack was pacing around our bedroom. He was supposed to be searching through Grindr and Tinder for potential targets, but I knew he was getting frustrated and decided not to push it. My boyfriend has always been the impatient type, but I could understand why he was getting extra antsy tonight. 

About a month ago, my boyfriend and I made a deal with a witch. In exchange for five years off of each of our lifespans, the witch would grant us the supernatural ability to take over other people’s bodies. As you can imagine, Jack and I have been generously using our new powers ever since we got them. We’ve been using them to do whatever we want as whoever we want! Getting easy access to anything we want, getting payback on anyone who’s wronged us, and probably the most fun, fucking as whoever we want. Pretty sweet ability right? 

But of course, an extraordinary power like this doesn’t come without its cost. On top of paying the witch with literal years off of our lives, there were also two conditions we needed to follow. The first condition was the time limit. We got exactly 30 days before our powers expire. Once time’s up, that’s it. No more body hopping fun. The second condition was more of a restriction than anything else. The witch said that we couldn’t just take over anyone’s body. We could only choose people both Jack and I have met in-person before. That condition really limited our options, but even so, that didn’t stop us from having as much fun as possible. 

“Hey, what about these two?” I handed Jack the yearbook with an open page. Unfortunately though, it took him less than a second to shake his head no.

“No good. I knew them but I never actually met them.”

I sighed as I took back the yearbook. Not gonna lie, I was starting to get frustrated too. We just couldn’t find any new bodies to possess! Normally, we wouldn’t get so worked over it, but tonight was different. It was our last day before our powers expired for good. Obviously we couldn’t just let our powers die out without one last body hopping escapade! But after hours of searching, it was not looking good for us…

Or so I thought. I started half-assedly looking through all the faces of our former high school classmates. It was then that two faces stuck out to me. Akshay Khan and Kabir Patel. 

“How about these two? Remember them? The Indian bros?” I asked Jack.

“Oh yeah, I remember them. Can’t say I remember much though,”

“Neither can I.”

Akshay and Kabir were known for being inseparable best friends, but that was it really. They never got involved in any school activities. That’s why they each only had one photo in the yearbook. Easy to miss, but they were still an option nonetheless. 

“C’mon, let’s check out what they’ve been up to,” I said as I pulled out my phone. 

Jack joined me on the couch. He laid against me as I typed in Akshay’s name. Luckily that was all I needed to get a hit on Instagram. His profile came up and surely enough, it was him. He had recently posted on his story too. I clicked on it and up came a picture of him and Kabir working out at some gym together.

“Whoa, they’ve really glowed up since high school. The gym’s been kind to them!” Jack let out a fox whistle when he saw the picture. I turned my head slightly to watch him checking out the goods. I could tell by the hungry look in his eyes that we just found our next targets.

“What do you say bro?” I said while lowering my voice. “You down to hit the showers after we hit this last set?” I caught Jack off guard with my bad Akshay impression, but he caught on right away. We exchanged a knowing look, then proceeded to get ready for the takeover. 

We both laid down on the ground and took deep breaths. We had body possession down to a science with how many times we’ve done it. All that was left to do was to go through steps again. I cleared my mind of all thoughts then I focused on imagining my soul leaving my body, all while maintaining my breathing. Soon enough, I could feel myself becoming lighter as my soul left my physical body. Once I was no longer a slave to the laws of physics, I flew straight to the gym where Akshay and Kabir were. They made the big mistake of tagging their location on social media, which made Jack and I’s job a whole lot easier! 

Thanks to my spirit form, I made it to their location within minutes. I phased through the walls and looked around for the bros. The gym was pretty empty that night for some reason. After some searching, I found Akshay in the locker room area checking himself out in the mirror. He was by himself in there. I crept up behind him, ready to strike while he was distracted! 

“Nrghh… What the fuck?” Akshay exclaimed. He hunched over while holding his stomach. I hesitated jumping into him, then abandoned the idea altogether when I realized what was happening. Jack had beaten me to the punch, he had already begun possessing Akshay.

I decided to stay back a moment and watch as my boyfriend possessed the gym rat. Akshay was groaning loudly. He tried keeping his balance but ended up falling to the ground on all fours. Sweat beads were forming on his face as he began breathing heavily. He then swung his head back with his mouth wide open. I could see his eyes roll back to the back of his head until I only saw the veiny whites of his eyeballs. Akshay then let out a loud, eerie groan. His cheeks and chest puffed up as Jack's soul slithered down his throat. I could see Akshay's Adam's apple bob up and down too! This lasted for a few seconds, then Akshay swallowed the last of Jack's essence in one final gulp. Once it was done, Akshay's eyes went back to normal and he stood up with a cocky grin on his face. 

"Ahh yeahhh... That's the good stuff..." Akshay said while caressing his massive pecs and rock hard abs. Except I knew that wasn't Akshay anymore, that was my loving boyfriend checking out his new body in the mirror. 

I watched as my boyfriend admired his newly obtained muscles in front of the mirror. I couldn't help but smile as Jack flexed his cannons for arms and made his pecs pop. To be honest, I was slightly jealous of him. Akshay was jacked! I wanted to have that body for myself, but no matter, there was still another body up for grabs anyway. 

I turned around and began searching for Kabir. I looked throughout the gym and eventually found him near the dumbbells. Kabir was busy putting some weights back on the rack. He wasn't perfectly alone like Akshay was, but the sight of his plump butt sticking out as he was bent over was too tempting to ignore. I just had to take the risk and dive right in! 

I steadied my aim first and then charged in as fast as I could. Thanks to my spirit form, I was able to phase right through his gym shorts and go straight into his asshole. 

"Ow!! What the fuck!?" Kabir yelped out, presumably from me penetrating him by surprise. The impact of me entering him made Kabir fall onto the ground on his stomach. He grabbed onto his ass cheeks while squirming around on the ground. Unfortunately I wasn't able to possess him in one smooth motion, but it didn't matter. I was already halfway in, and there was nothing Kabir could do to stop a pro like me.

I started wiggling my way up his ass. The deeper I went inside him, the more I could feel through his body as the body takeover process started. 

"Aaargh fuckk!! Ahh!!" 

Kabir was moaning and thrashing around like a madman! I couldn't blame him though, I could feel the stimulation I was giving him by entering through his ass. I bet I was hitting all the right pleasure spots as I slithered up him! 

"Mmmm... yeahh that's the spot..." I purred using Kabir's voice. I was in full control now, and hearing his accent come out of my mouth was making me hard! I stood up and brushed off any dirt on me. I took a moment to admire my newly possessed body. Jack might have gotten the more muscular body, but Kabir was taller and with a well-toned physique too. He was hot— No, I was hot! 

“Hey bro, you good?” 

I felt a hand pat me on the shoulder. Shit! Someone must’ve spotted Kabir thrashing around on the floor! I slowly turned around, but thankfully my worries were for nothing. It was just Jack.

“Yeah man, I’m chilling, all good here,” I answered. Jack shook his head. 

“You sure, Kabir? Looked like you had a pretty ass cramp just now… You don’t need a massage to help ease the pain?”

Getting called “Kabir” threw me off for a moment. Although I quickly caught on when I saw “Akshay” wink at me.

“Actually, you’re right, I could use a massage right now! Think you can lend me a hand bro?” I replied with a smirk. Akshay returned my gesture with a grin. It was moments like this that made me love taking over other people’s bodies with my boyfriend. Nobody but us knew that these two gym rats just got possessed by two other men, and that secret just made it even more fun.

Akshay and I wasted no time in getting to the locker rooms. Luckily for us, there was still nobody back there. We took off our clothes and hopped into one of the shower stalls together. Akshay turned on the water, and then proceeded to pin me to the wall behind me. He planted a big fat kiss on my lips. It was aggressive, but I loved it! 

We made out in the stall with our tongues fighting for dominance while the running water helped cover up our loud kisses and moans. Naturally, our dicks got hard while we kissed. I could feel Akshay’s dick rub against me as we pressed and interlocked our wet bodies against one another. It was strange. Normally when we possess straight men, we could feel their dormant souls try to resist against us having fun with their bodies. I expected Kabir and Akshay to do the same, but they never did! It was almost as if their bodies were enthusiastic about us having our fun. Perhaps, they’ve already done what we were doing?

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. All that mattered was that Akshay had a hand around my neck, choking me while keeping me pressed against the shower wall. I opened my mouth and Akshay spit in my mouth. I swallowed it like a good boy, then I jumped onto Akshay. He held me up while we resumed kissing. Then, while our lips were locked together, he began to lower me down onto his cock. I could feel his dick tap against my hole, then it slid right in.

“OHH FUCKK!!!” I couldn’t hold back my moans. The pleasure of having Akshay’s whole length inside me… My hole expanding to accommodate his girth was too much to hold back!

“You like that? You want this big, brown cock inside you?”

“Fuck yeah! Fuck me!!” 

“Beg for it then.” He started teasing me by thrusting himself into me slowly. 

“Please bro! Please fuck me hard!! I want you… I need you… Arghh!!”

Akshay started picking up the pace of his thrusts. I thought I saw stars with every deep stroke he gave me. We were probably making a lot of noise between my moans and his grunts, but we didn’t care. We fucked like animals with our new jock bodies and we weren’t ashamed of it! 

It only took us another few minutes of fucking before we were both close. Akshay pulled out and let me down to the ground. We then started tugging our dicks together until we covered both ourselves and the shower stall with our cum. We were both panting as we shot load after load of our sweet spunk out. We then made out again one last time while we were still covered with each other’s cum before the shower washed it away. It was hot, and it was definitely the last body hopping adventure we needed before our powers expired for good. 

Once we finished having our fun, Jack and I were ready to leave. We never bothered cleaning up, we just depossessed the bodies and let them take care of it. Jack and I shared one last loving look as Akshay and Kabir before leaving. However, when we tried forcing our souls out of their bodies, we couldn’t! No matter how hard or how much we tried, we just couldn’t leave! We ended up having to clean up after ourselves for once. We did that quickly, then got dressed and left the gym as fast as we could. We had no idea what was going on! But then I caught a glimpse of the time. It was already 1:30AM! It was already the next day! It was supposed to be a quickie, but I guess Jack and I got a little carried away…

All this happened two years ago. We’ve been living as Akshay and Kabir ever since then. Even to this day, neither of us know what could’ve happened that we’d end up trapped in these bodies. If I had to take a guess, I’d wager that when the witch said that our powers would expire permanently, she meant it way more seriously than Jack and I expected. Without those powers, we couldn’t even return to our original bodies! I don’t know, but honestly, I don’t care anymore. If anything, we’ve been blessed to have Akshay and Kabir’s lives as our own. Sure, Akshay’s new family is super traditional and they’re already setting him up for a bride, but that doesn’t matter to us. We still meet up in secret when nobody’s around. No matter who we are, we are lovers and nothing will ever take that away from us. 

We’re not sure how exactly we’re gonna get past an arranged family, but as long as Akshay is by my side, we can overcome anything.

[justwhisperingfantasies]

Anything

a continuation of Always

Characters: - Reader - Dean - Sam - Layla - Mrs. Rourke - Roy - Sue Ann- Mention of John and Joshua

Warnings: Fluff, Language, Implied Smut, Hurt Dean, Cannon Violence, Supernatural Spoilers,

A/N: So, I am really nervous about this one. Faith is in my top 3 favorite episodes of the whole series. This one is a wee bit longer. Sorry. I hope you enjoy it.

Hope y'all enjoy it.

Please don't copy my work

Like, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated

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Your leg muscles throbbed from the pressure you were applying to the gas pedal. Yet your car still seemed to crawl along the road. Damnit I’m not gonna make it.

You looked up to the stars. “I never asked you for anything. I hunt monsters. I save people. He saves people. He’s a good fucking person. You can’t let him die. You hear me? Please don’t let him die.”

“Sam.” you said as you flipped open your phone and held it to your ear. “What’s going on? Is he?”

“No. He’s alive. We just got to the hospital. They just took him. How far away are you?”

“Maybe 20 minutes. 10 if I run some red lights.”

“[Y/n] we don’t need you getting hurt too.” He tried to hide it with a cough but you the sniffle “please be careful. “

“Always.” Your automatic response sent a sharp pain through your chest.

You leaned your back against the door to his room, staring at the calming painting hanging in the hallway, trying to find the courage to face what was on the other side.

“You love me.” He chuckled as you let out a hefty sigh.  He raised his head and rested his chin on your chest. You cracked your eyes open a bit, catching a glimpse of his bright green eyes. “You know I love you too, right?"

“I know.”

He gazed at you, a look of bewilderment crossing his face. “You know?!”

“Dean you tell me all the time, how I’m your best friend, you’re always telling me to be careful, you worry about me. I know you love me.”

He chuckled. “No sweetheart, I’m in love with you.”

You remember how your heart skipped at that moment. He slowly made his way up your body, his lips drawing closer to yours. You placed a hand on his chest, stopping him right before he got to his destination. ““If we cross this line, there’s no going back, Dean.”

He closed the gap between your lips and firmly placed his on yours. Your hand sliding upward, wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer. The fire ran through your veins as he stroked his tongue against yours. His kisses grew needy, hungry like he couldn’t get enough of you.

Heavy pants filled the room as the desire intensified between you. Your fingers grazed the bottom of his shirt, lifting it gently to his chest, he broke the kiss and swiftly removed it. A smile on his lips as you admired the definition of his shoulder muscles. “Like what you see?”

“Eh, they’re alright.”

“That drool on your chin says otherwise” He murmured softly, lowering his head to place gentle kisses along your neck.

“[y/n]!” Sam’s voice pulled you out of your memory. You turned and headed in his direction.   

“Hey Sam. Have you heard anything?”

“No, I just got done talking to the cops and paying for his treatments.” You rolled your eyes. “They are just doing their jobs.” Sam glanced over your shoulder. “Hey Doc.” You pivoted and stood next to Sam. The doctor shifted his gaze to you then back to Sam. “His fiancée.” You gave a nod, going along with his lie.

“How is he?” your voice cracked.

“He's resting.” The doctor replied

“And?” Sam asked.

“The electrocution triggered a heart attack. Pretty massive, I'm afraid. His heart...it's damaged.” You felt a wave of emotion as tears started to gather in your eyes.

“How damaged?” you managed to keep you voice normal

“We've done all we can. We can try and keep him comfortable at this point. But I'd give him a couple weeks, at most, maybe a month.”

“No, no. There's, there's... gotta be something you can do, some kind of treatment.” Sam argued.

“We can't work miracles. I really am sorry.”

The reality hits you. “He’s not going to make it…”  You blinked, letting the tears flow freely down your cheeks.

“There’s my girl.” Dean said as you walked in, Sam following behind you.  His strained voice weighed heavily on your heart. Your eyes brimming with tears as they met his gaze. He appeared so frail and unwell. You had Dean in rough shape before, this was something entirely different. You and Sam stopped at the foot of his bed.

“We talked to your doctor.” Sam told him.

“Ok, So where are we doing the fight for the Impala?” Dean gestured to you and Sam. “Whoever gets it, better take care of it or I’ll haunt them.”

You scoffed. “That’s not funny.”

“Oh, come on, it's a little funny.”

“Dean.” Sam whimpered.

“Look, we all know how dangerous this gig can be. I drew the short straw. That's it, end of story.”

“Don't talk like that, alright? We still have options.” Sam asserted.

“What options? Yeah, burial or cremation. And I know it's not easy. But I'm gonna die. And you can't stop it.”

“Watch me.” Sam stormed out.

You sighed and rubbed your forehead, he reached out his arm, inviting you to lie down beside him. You walked over and sat in the chair beside his bed. He raised his eyebrows, grabbing your hand he pulled. “Get your ass over here.” You laid beside him. resting your head on his shoulder too scared to lay it on his chest.

“Tell me if I hurt you.”

He kissed your forehead. “You ain’t gonna hurt me baby.”

You walked up to Sam’s motel door and knocked. He opened the door slowly. “Hey, I thought you’d stay at the hospital.” He stepped back, opening the door all the way.

“Yea I got kicked out.” you said as you walked over and started looking at the papers Sam had laid all over the bed. “Did you call John?”

“I did. I got his voicemail. Big surprise.”

You sighed. “Find anything yet?”

“Actually.” There was another knock on the door. You looked at each other in confusion

Sam walked over to the door and opened it. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Checked myself out.” Dean said stepping into the room and leaning against the dresser. “I’m not gonna die in a hospital that kicks out my fiancée.” He gave you a weak grin. You shook your head. Sam helped him sit in the armchair.

“So, I was just about to tell [y/n] I called everyone in dad’s journal.”

“For what?”

“For a way to help you. One of his friends, Joshua, called me back. Told me about a specialist in Nebraska.”

“You’re not gonna let me die in peace, are you?”

“You’re not gonna die period. We are going.” You said sternly

Sam drives the Impala drives up a bumpy gravel path, to a sprawling white circus tent pitched in the middle of a field. Dean looks over to a sign that reads The Church of Roy LeGrange. “You guys are fucking liars!”  You and Sam jump out of the house and hurry to help Dean. “This ain’t no damn doctor.”

“Technically I said specialist.” Sam grabbed Dean’s arms “Let me help you”

“I got it.” Dean said batting away his arm “A freaking faith healer, really guys?”  He grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Can’t believe you brought me here to see some guy who heals people out of a tent.”

“Reverend LeGrange is a great man.” An elderly women yelled at Dean as she passed.

“Yeah, that’s nice.”

“Baby, this guy is supposed to be the real deal, can you please just shut up and give it a chance.” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes.

He gave you a small smirk. “Alright, for you.” The three of you continued walking to the tent.

“Dean, how can you be a skeptic? With the things we see every day?” Sam asked him as you continued walking toward the tent.

“Exactly. We see them, we know there real.”

“But if you know evil’s out there, how can you not believe good’s out there, too?” You asked.

“Because I’ve seen what evil does to good people.” He remarked. “And you guys can stop ganging up on me now.”

“Maybe God works in mysterious ways.” A young blonde said overhearing the conversation

“Maybe he does. I’m Dean, this is [y/n]” he said raising your hands. You smiled at her. “This is Sam.” He said pointing at Sam with his other hand.

“Layla. So, if you’re not a believer, then why are you.  here?”

“Well, apparently they believe enough for me.”

“Come on, Layla. It’s about to start.” An older women walked up and putting her arm around Layla

The three of you walked into the tent. Dean walked over to the last row and started to sit. “Dean please. There’s 3 up front. Come on.” He sighed and followed you.

“Each morning, my wife, Sue Ann,” Roy began his service.  “Reads me the news. Never seems good, does it?” he says as he steps up to the little podium. The room fills with echoes of no as the crowd agrees with him “Seems like there’s always someone committing some immoral, unspeakable act.” Roy continues with his service “But, I say to you, God is watching.” You hear a mixture of Yes, he is, and amen, as they crowd agrees with him again. “God rewards the good, and He punishes the corrupt.”  The agreements get louder, as almost everyone says amen or hallelujah, Roy continues “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.”

“Yeah, and into their wallets.” Dean whispers

“Shh” You whispered back.

“You think so, young man?” Roy asked

Silence falls over the tent.

Your jaw clenched in frustration. Dean cleared his throat. “Uh Sorry.” He said in a shaky voice.

“No, no. Don’t be. Just watch what you say around a blind man, we’ve got real sharp ears.” Almost everyone laughed. “What’s your name, son?”

“Um, Dean.” The nervousness lingered in his voice.

“Dean.” Roy nods with a grin on his face.  “I want, I would you to come up here with me.”

The crowd was cheering. You hear the older woman with Layla whisper to her “seriously?!”

Sue Ann moves to center stage, gestures for Dean to come up while smiling.

“No, it’s ok.” Dean told them

“What are you doing?!” Sam asked him

“You’ve come here to be healed, haven’t cha?” Roy asked

 “Well, yeah,” the crowd starts the cheer. Dean stats on his seat and waited for the noise to settle. “Um. maybe you should just pick someone else.”

“Seriously Dean?” You sneered, annoyed.

“Oh, no. I didn’t pick you, Dean, the Lord did.” Roy declared.

“Please,” you begged “You told me you would give it a chance.”

He took a deep breath. “For you” he stood up and everyone started cheering.

Sue Ann walks Dean over to Roy. You see their mouths moving. “Pray with me friends.” Roy instructs as he raised one hand and puts the other one on Dean’s shoulder. All the hands in the audience raise, except yours, Sam's and the lady with Layla.

Roy moves his hand from Dean’s shoulder to the side of his head. “Alright now. Alright now.”  You and Sam jump up to your feet as Dean falls to his knees, Roy keeps his hand in place. “Alright now” Roy says again.

“Dean!” You and Sam yell as Dean collapses to the stage floor, you both run to him.

 The crowd is clapping excitedly.

Sam’s fingers grasp the front of Dean’s hoodie shaking him furiously. Finally, Dean’s eyes burst open as he gasps.

“Say Something!” Sam demands.

Dean blinking like his vision is still hazy as he gazes upward. Above him stands Roy, arms extended outward, palms facing up, a broad smile lighting up his face. Dean stares behind Roy, a look of disbelief etched on his face.

You lay on your back, your heart pounding and breaths coming in rapid bursts, gazing into Dean's eyes as his face hovered above yours.

"Wow," you breathed out, astonished.

He raised his eyebrows with a smile. “Told you I was ok.”

“I don’t know, I might be more convincing.” He laughed and rolled on his back beside you, He wrapped his arm around you, drawing you closer to him. you laid your head on his chest. “So, what was it like?”

“Mind blowing.”

“Really?”

“Well yeah babe. Our sex has always been great.” He chuckled as you let out a hefty sigh.

“You know what I meant Winchester.”

 “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

 You lifted your head and turned to look at him. His face was hard. “What’s wrong?” he shook his head. “Dean.” You pleaded.

“I don’t know. It was weird.” He sighed. “I felt cold. Something just felt off, felt wrong. When I think about it, I just get a bad feeling. Like there’s something more to it.” he looked up to the ceiling. “And the doctor mentioned something about a 27-year-old athlete that died of a heart attack.” He lipped his lips. “I’ve been trying, but I can’t sway myself into believe it was just a coincidence.”

You planted a swift kiss on his lips. “Alright, Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“To explain this all to Sam, and then we can go check it out.”

“So how long you been together?” Roy asked as he sat down in the armchair across from the couch you and Dean were sitting on, in the LeGranges' living room.

“I’ve known her most of my life.” Dean looked at you , taking your hand in his. “Our dads worked together. There were many nights we got stuck babysitting my little brother together. Guess it all started there.”

“Well, the two of you make a stunning couple”

You smiled, “Thanks.”

“So how are you feeling Dean?” Roy asked.

“I feel great. Just trying to, you know, make sense of what happened.” Dean denoted.

“A miracle is what happened, but miracles come so often around Roy.” Sue Ann said as she handed you both a glass of tea. You both nodded thanks.  

“When did they start? The miracles.” Dean inquired.

“Woke up one morning, stone blind. Doctors figured out I had cancer. Told me I had maybe a month.” He explained fidgeting. “So, uh we prayed for a miracle. I was weak, but I told Sue Ann, to just keep right on praying. I went into a coma. Doctors said I wouldn't wake up, but I did. And the cancer was gone.” Roy took off his sunglasses revealing his glassy white eyes. “If it wasn't for these eyes, no one would believe I'd ever had it.”

“And you could heal people?” you asked.

“I discovered it afterward, yes. God has blessed me in many ways.”

“And his flock just swelled overnight. And this is just the beginning.” Sue Ann added with a proud smile on her face.

“Mind if I ask you one last question?” Dean asked looking down

“Of course not.”

Dean licked his lips, a hint of uncertainty in his voice as he asked, “Why me? Out of all the sick people, why save me?” You gently squeezed his hand, offering him a sense of reassurance.

“Well, like I said before, the Lord guides me.” Roy took a drink of his tea. “I looked into your heart, and you just stood out from all the rest.”

“What did you see in my heart?”

“A young man with an important purpose. A job to do. And it isn't finished.”

As Sue Ann Ushers you out the door, Layla and her mother are waiting to go in.

“I’m sorry Layla the reverend is resting right now. He won’t be seeing anyone else today.” Sue Ann says with sympathy

“Sue Ann, please. This is our sixth time; he's got to see us.” Layla’s mother pleads.

“Hey, I’m gonna go start the car.” You whisper to Dean excusing yourself from the awkward situation. With a nod he squeezes your hand then releases it.

“She really said that to you?” You asked as you entered the motel.

“Yea, I'm kinda glad you went to the car. Couldn’t have you throwing punches on a reverend's porch.” He laughed as he threw his keys on the table.

“Well, it sounds like you two had an interesting day.” Sam said looking up from his laptop.

“Very. What'd you find out?” Dean asked Taking off his jacket and hanging it on a chair.

“Dean. I'm sorry.” Sam whimpered barely above a whisper.

“Sorry about what?”

“Marshall Hall died at 4:17.”

“Let me guess” you said grabbing a bottle of water. “The exact time Dean was healed.” You sighed as Sam nodded.

 “So, 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 handed Dean a stack of paper.  “Every time someone was healed, someone else died. And each time, the victim died of the same symptom LeGrange was healing at the time.” sense of sorrow in his voice.

“Wait, wait, wait. So, Marshall Hall died to save me?”

“Dean, the guy probably would've died anyway. And someone else would've been healed.” Sam tried to comfort him.

“You guys never should've brought me here.”

“Dean, we were just trying to save you.” You chimed in.

“But now some guy is fucking dead now because of me.” Dean exclaimed with frustration.

“We didn't know, Dean.” Sam rubbed his temples.  “The thing I don't understand is how is Roy doing it? How's he trading a life for a life?”

“Oh, he's not doing it. Something else is doing it for him.” Dean declared.

“What do you mean?” Sam questioned.

“The old man I saw on stage.” Dean said. Your eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t tell you that part. “I didn't wanna believe it, but deep down I knew.”

“You don’t think it’s a.”

“Yes, I do” Dean cut you off as he glanced at you.

“What are you guys talking about?” Sam asked

“There's only one thing that can give and take life like that.” Sam looked at Dean, still confused.

” It’s a reaper.” You murmured. Dean nodded,

“You really think it's THE Grim Reaper?” Sam asked typing on his laptop.

“No Sam, not THE reaper, A reaper.” You told him.

“There's reaper law in pretty much every culture on earth, it's possible that there's more than one of them.” Dean said looking through lore pages. “The question is how is Roy controlling the damn thing?”

“That cross.” Sam

“What?” Dean

“There was this cross, I knew looked familiar.” Sam looks through some papers and holds a card up, “This.”

“A Tarot?” Dean asked, taking the card from Sam, he looked at it then showed it to you.  

“It makes sense. A tarot dates to the early Christian era right, when some priests were still dabbling in magic.” You noted. Dean tilted his head with a pondering expression.

“And a few of them veered into the dark stuff. Necromancy and how to push death away, how to cause it?” Sam added

“So, Roy's using black magic to bind the reaper?” Dean

“If so. He’s riding the whirlwind. It's like putting a dog leash on a great white.” Sam

“Ok then we stop Roy.” Dean announced as he got up and put his coffee mug in the sink. Leaning on the counter behind you.

“How?” Sam asked

“You know how.”

“Dean, we can't kill him.” You proclaim, turning around to face him.

“Babe, he’s playing God, deciding who lives and who dies. That's a monster in my book.”

“No. We do that we're no better than he is.” Sam

“Ok, we can’t kill Roy, we can't kill death. Any other bright ideas?” Dean said with a bit of sass.

“We gotta figure out how he’s doing it and how to break it.” Sam stated.

The Impala jolts along the rough, gravel-strewn road again. Dean did his best to dodge the potholes, passing a sign that says service today.

“If Roy's using a spell, there might be a spell book.” Sam said as you guys got out of the car.

“See if you can find it.” He looked at his watch, “You gotta hurry though, the service starts in fifteen minutes. We’ll try to stall” Dean takes your hand, and you head for the tent while Sam heads toward the house.

You and dean mosey up and down the aisles on opposite sides of the tent. You hear a cell phone ring and look up to see Dean putting his to his ear. He talks for a few seconds and then holds the flyer that the protestor in the parking lot gave him and mouths the words He’s next. He points at you then the opening on the tent. He them mouths be careful; you nod mouthing back always and go search for the man.

You go out to the parking lot, bobbing and weaving through cars, finding Sam. You throw your hands up in frustration. “Keep looking [y/n]” Sam yells, you continue in the direction you were going.

“HELP.” You turn searching for where the voice was coming from. “HELP ME PLEASE! HELP ME!” you figure out the direction and start running. You pass a bus to see Sam and the man running like they are being chased, you look toward the tent as you hear the commotion. You see Roy and his followers exiting the tent. You look back to Sam and the man still running frantically.

“Yea?” Dean answered his phone.

“Dean. It didn’t work the reaper is still after him.” the man falls to his knees. “I saw Roy. He’s not doing it; it must be someone else”

“Its Sue Ann”

 You see Sam helping the man up and he doesn’t look frightened anymore. You sigh in relief. “I think he’s ok.”  Then you hear Sue Ann yelling help through the phone.

“So, Roy really believes.” Sam asked sitting on his motel bed.

“I don't think he has any idea what his wife's doing.” Dean said between the beds.

“Well, I found this.” Sam said handing a book to Dean. “Hidden in their library. It's ancient. Written by a priest who went dark side. There's a binding spell in here for trapping a reaper.”

“Must be a hell of a spell.” You said sitting on the other bed.

“Yeah. You gotta build a black altar with seriously dark stuff. Bones, human blood. To cross a line like that, a preacher’s wife. Black magic. Murder. Evil”

“Desperate. Her husband was dying,” Dean looked to you “she would have done anything to save the person she loves.” His gaze locked onto yours as he spoke, and his words made your heart flutter. A smirk on his face as you exhaled sharply, trying to compose yourself.

 “Yeah, but Roy's alive, so why is she still using the spell?”

“To force the reaper to kill people she thinks are immoral.” Sam informed. “We gotta break that spell.”

Dean rifled through the pages on the table. Finding the picture of the cross he said. “You know Sue Ann had a Coptic cross like this. As soon as she dropped it, the guy was ok.”

“So, you think we gotta find the cross or destroy the alter?” Sam asked

“Maybe both?” you suggested

“Whatever we do we better do it soon, he's healing Layla tonight.” Dean said

“That's Layla's car. She's already here.” Sam says as Dean pulls the impala in the drive.

Dean nods with a grim expression “You know she's gonna die in a couple of months.”

“You said it yourself Dean, you can't play God.” Sam says with compassion

Dean looks to you. You press your lips in a hard line. “He’s right Dean, I’m sorry.”

The three of you approach the tent and peek inside. Roy is speaking to a small group, including Layla and her mother.

“Gather round, please everyone” Roy says.

“Where's Sue Ann?” Dean asked.

“House.” Sam guessed.

“You guys go find Sue Ann; I'll catch up.” Dean says pushing you and Sam into the shadows. As two cops walk down the stairs, Dean yells. “Hey!” they look at him. “You gonna put that fear of god in me?” He takes off running and they chase after him.

As soon as they're gone you and Sam run up the stairs and check around the house. It’s completely dark. “Look” Sam whispers, pointing at the light emerging from the cracks of the outside basement entrance. “I’ll go check it out. You see if you can get in the house.” You nod. Sam moves toward the basement entrance, opens the doors and slips inside.

As you search the house you hear the cellar door slam. You look out the window to see Sue Ann locking the doors. Sam banging on them trying to get out. You make your way quickly to the cellar doors, but Sue Ann is nowhere to be found. “Sam?” You whispered. pulled the pipe out of the door handles and swung them open. “Sammy!”

He emerged from the shadows. “Bout time.”

You and Sam ran over to the tent. You see Sue Ann holding up the cross while reciting something. You and Sam start to run in her direction. “Sam, destroy the cross, I’ll find Dean.” He nods as he continues to run toward her.

As you weave through the parked cars you hear a loud wail in the distance. You froze in place. “Dean?!” you yelled at the top of your lungs, getting no response you began to search again.  You hear another wail. You turn around to see Dean on his knees in the driveway. “Dean.” Speak softly with trepidation. Your legs jolt to life. Pushing into the ground as hard as you can, you finally make it to him. He’s gasping for air with glazed over eyes. You tackle him, pushing him onto his back. You rise to your knees facing the same direction Dean was seconds ago.  “Not him. Take me instead.” Nothing happens. Dean is still unable to breathe. “Come on you son of a bitch. Not him!” You shouted in anger. With one big last gasp dean’s breathing returns to normal. Anticipation hits you like a joke of lightning as you wait for the reaper to appear, but he doesn’t.

“[y/n]”

“Sam did it he destroyed the cross.” You say helping Dean to his feet.

“You guys, ok?” Sam asked as you approached the Impala.

“Hell of a week.” Dean said, shaking his head.

“We should get going.” You said as you opened the back door.

Dean’s pov

He couldn’t take his eyes off her, sitting on the trunk of his car, in that leather jacket, hair blowing in the wind. She was gorgeous inside and out. Crazy thing was she loved him, him of all people. She loved him enough to give her life just to save him.  He opened the door and threw his duffle on the back floorboard.

“Whatcha starin’ at Winchester?”

“Just the prettiest girl in the world.”

“Kiss ass.” She said with a smile.

He laughed softly as he moved between her legs, wrapping her waist with his arms. “Listen,” he said, resting his forehead against hers. “I never want you to think about trading your life.”

“Dean.” She cut him off. “Save your breathe. I don’t care how mad you get, how loud you yell, or how many days you stay pissed off at me. I would do anything to save your life.”

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