#i stopped watching supernatural a long time ago but i never forgot those two

[nic-coughlan]

how do i word this without sounding like a complete lunatic

so you have many ships, two pairings you'll find that you'll love, ship, read fanfic, create scenarios. so many come through the years. but there's always that one pairing. kind of like a first love effect, y'know? you never forget them, they have a piece of your heart forever. remembering them is like a warm bath on a cold day, a sip of water after feeling thirsty all day, and a hot meal.

mine is destiel. dean and castiel. they were my first pairing, i DEVOTED my whole entire teenage years to them and even now, many years later i love them with all my heart. i'll never stop.

[fbfh]

I think you've horribly misread the situation [shitty roommate pt 2] - leo x reader

wc: 2.3k

genre: contemporary drama, you're definitly going to get second hand embarrassment, cozy fluff

pairing: leo x reader, attempted isabella x leo

reader: gender neutral, they/them

requested: hell yeah

warnings: mild swearing, roommate tries to steal your man once again, mentions of various mainstream vampire media (twilight, the vampire diaries etc.), brief mention of castlevania (even though i haven't seen it yet lol), breif mention of videogames and assassins creed, very mild delusion (roommate is secretly convinced leo is a vampire that's in love with her), attempted age gap relationship (she's 17 and leo's 19, he shuts that down real fast), very bad poetry

summary: You and Leo are both looking foward to spending a long weekend together, and Leo is determined not to let anything interrupt it, even if it means turning down your roommate's attempts to seduce him in the kitchen.

a/n: absolutley no hate or shade or judgement to anyone who has the same or similar traits as isabella!!!!!! at her core she's annoying because she's the antagonist, not bc of any isolated trait or traits

also she's shitty cause she keeps trying to steal your boyfriend?????

Edit: I forgot to mention before, but this is a college au where you're both still demigods, so you went to camp and on quests and stuff together

This weekend is going to be all about recharging. Recharging from the ridiculous back to back closing and opening shifts at work, recharging from having to redo that stupid project twice because your professor couldn’t decide on a clear way to define the criteria, and recharging from Isabella having her townie friend Regan over almost non stop to “completely shake up her look” as she put it.

Between the constant presence of someone you’d barely consider an acquaintance and Big Time Rush’s self titled album blasting on repeat out of her giant airpod shaped speaker, it’s been harder than usual to get in some effective self care. You have no idea how many more times you can hear the phrase “I’m going for Jade West meets Elena Gilbert, with just a little Buffy Summers” before you lose your fucking mind.

Thankfully, the hard part is almost over. There’s some minor holiday tomorrow on friday, so you and Leo both have a three day weekend ahead of you, which you intend to spend entirely together. You planned ahead, frontloading homework, chores, errands, and everything you could think of to remove anything that isn’t cuddling or playing video games and watching netflix together from your horizon.

This includes going straight from work to the grocery store to stock the fridge and get any snacks you and Leo want. You had texted him a while ago asking for anything he was craving, and head into the store with a concrete list. After a while, you circle around some aisles, avoiding the check out.

“I feel like I’m forgetting something,” you muse, knowing it’s untrue, but hoping to trigger a memory anyway. You can’t put it off any longer, finally checking out and heading back to your apartment. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t avoiding Isabella just a little.

You know bringing in all these groceries would be way easier with Isabella and possibly Regan’s help, but you just don’t have the social energy to talk to anyone, much less her, right now. By some miracle, you bring everything in yourself, and hope to get it put away before you see Isabella.

You turn to the freezer, putting away the ice cream. When you turn back around, you’re suddenly met face to face with Isabella, who has opened one of the boxes and is picking at a pastry.

“Hey girlie,” she says, elongating the hey.

“Hey,” you reply lethargically, putting the last of the groceries away. She looks at the pastry in her hand like she’s just noticing it.

“Sorry, I can’t help it, I’m italian.” She smiles, endeared by her own behavior. You have no idea what being italian has to do with asking before you open a box of your roommate’s food, but this really isn’t out of character for her. She brings up the fact that she’s half italian more than Lele Pons blames her behavior on being latina.

She’s wearing sweatpants that say chaser on the leg in red and gold varsity font, and a tight tee shirt that says “it’s okay to love them both” with silhouettes of the male love interests from one of the vampire shows she always watches. You collect the plastic bags to put in recycling, and see a piece of paper on the counter.

It reads as follows:

Drowning in my mind

No one hears me cry

Who was I before society

Before society put me in a pink dress

And handed me blonde hair dye

And told me to lose ten pounds or be labeled a freak?

The happiest people cry the most

Let the lyrics be your story

But I’m not like the other skinny blonde pretty girls

I’m

Different

-b.g. xox

You hold back a sigh.

“I think this is yours.” you say, handing it to her.

“Oh, it’s just some of my poetry I left lying around, that’s so embarrassing.”

I know, you think, you do that all the time.

“Did you read it?” She asks, hopefully.

“Nope.”

“Thank god, that would have been so embarrassing. My poetry is something really… deep, and personal to me.”

“Uh huh. Hey, I’m going to be doing a lot of self care this weekend, so-”

“Oh!” she interjects, eerily similar to Phoebe Buffay - you guess she’s been watching friends again - “I wanted to ask… is Leo coming over later?” Her voice is riddled with subtext, the expression on her face a little too invested in your answer.

“Uh, yeah. I told you the other day we’re spending the weekend together…”

She cuts you off again, a sudden, intense look on her face.

“When will he be here?”

You check your phone, scrolling through your recent texts.

“By 7 at the latest.” It’s around 6:40 now.

“Oh my god, I have to change,” she rushes back to her room, presumably digging through her recent additions to her closet.

You’re frozen for a minute after the interaction, left with a furrowed brow and the beginnings of a headache. You blink, then choose to reschedule processing why she feels the need to change for your boyfriend to a more convenient time. That’s enough of that for today. You don’t care what else happens, you’re not talking to anyone besides Leo for at least the rest of the day. You retreat to your room to finally shower and change into something comfy. As you pass by Isabella’s room, you hear her talking to Regan.

“...There’s something almost… supernatural about him.”

You bite back a laugh.

“Do you think he’s a…” Regan begins, ending the sentence with something too quiet to hear, but you’d bet almost any organ she said vampire.

So close. So, so close, and yet… here you are.

Not much later, Leo texts you to let you know he’s here. You read his text, and run out to hug him in the living room before even typing a reply. He picks you up, and spins you around. The embrace is warm and fulfilling and familiar, and you wish it would last forever.

“Hi, Sparky.” you murmur into his neck.

“Estrella…” he says, rocking you back and forth gently and pressing a kiss into your jawline, “I missed you so much.” He punctuates the sentence with another kiss, this one to your lips, and you smile more genuinely than you have all day. You’re about to agree when you remember the good news you’ve been saving to tell him in person.

“Guess what I got on sale for like, half off,” you start, excitedly, continuing at his invested expression, “the Assassin’s Creed bundle I showed you!”

“No way,” he starts, and you nod.

“I’ll go get everything set up, drinks are in the kitchen!” He watches you retreat into your room, disbelieving how he could possibly get someone as perfect as you to fall for him. He’s not going to question his luck. He grabs a couple caffeinated sparkling ices, and meets you in your room, setting down his bag and grabbing some comfy clothes to change into.

As you both get settled in, you fill each other in on all the ridiculous shit you’ve been through this week. You finally conclude the bizarre - yet somehow standard - Isabella escapades.

“So I will be avoiding all contact as much as possible,” you laugh.

“Yeah, no shit,” he agrees, “Consider me your human buffer.” You thank him, hugging him again and pressing a kiss to his lips.

The next couple hours are spent cuddling and finishing season 4 of Castlevania. Both reeling from the season finale, you agree this is a good place to take a break, get some food, and decide what game you should start with. It’s already 10pm, which most people would consider too late for dinner, but you have all weekend to fuck up your sleep schedules.

“Let’s review,” Isabella says, holding up two red lipsticks. She turns to Regan. “Which one?”

“That one,” Regan says, pointing to the one on the left, then turns to her list, and continues. “Here’s what we know; we’ve never seen him eat, and he never seems tired. He’s really smart-”

“Almost too smart,” Isabella adds, selecting black rose dangle earrings from her jewelry. Regan agrees, and continues.

“He’s almost hypnotically attractive, and his smile is a little too dazzling.”

“There’s something… supernatural about him. Like he’s not… all human.”

Regan writes this down.

“Plus he’s always wearing black and red, and those flowy button up shirts? It’s all adding up, Ree. That dream that someone was outside my window, the ring, everything…” She says, referencing the black and red cocktail ring she’d found with her stuff when she’d first moved, “I’m not saying it’s definite, just that… there’s a chance.”

“What about…” Regan says hesitantly, nodding toward your room.

“Please,” she scoffs, “he’s only with them to get close to me, like Damon and Caroline. Edward couldn’t have just approached Bella out of the blue, he had to infiltrate her friend group first, to seem less suspicious. Not to sound mean or anything, but they really don’t seem like the type someone… like him… would choose.” her voice gets dreamy when she mentions him.

In spite of having seen most mainstream vampire media almost as many times as Isabella, Regan still considers her the expert on these things, and decides not to point out that Edward didn’t infiltrate Bella’s friend group. Maybe it comes up in one of the retellings she hasn’t read yet.

“So, what now?”

Isabella sets down her lipstick, and turns to her friend.

“I tell him.”

Regan’s eyes widen.

“You’re going to tell him you know?”

“No… not yet. It’s too soon, we don’t have enough evidence. I’m going to tell him I know he’s in love with me, then once he’s secure in our relationship... we’ll see where it goes.”

She stands up, assessing herself in the mirror. She chose her outfit carefully; short red dress with black roses and black mesh collar, black rose bracelet to match her earrings, snug faux leather jacket, and black stiletto ankle booties with a very skinny heel, the zipper on the outside gold, not silver. She fluffs her wavy hair and turns towards the door. She looks back one more time, holding onto the doorway.

“Wish me luck.”

Leo enters the kitchen, seeing Isabella already there, leaning against the counter seductively. She’s wearing an outfit and jewelry this late at night that makes Leo wonder if she’s going to an emo tea party. He puts the takeout in the microwave. She’s still staring at him.

“Uh… hey.”

She lets out a dainty giggle, looking him up and down.

“... Hi.”

At a loss for words, and really wanting the awkward silence to be over, he continues, “Did you need something?”

“What I need,” she walks closer to him, tracing her finger over his collar, “is you.”

What the fuck?

His brain seems to stall for a moment, and she uses this opportunity to continue.

“I know why you’re here. I know that you’re only using them to get closer to me. I know-”

“Woah-”

“That you’re in love with me.”

Okay, double what the fuck.

She takes his stunned silence as shyness, and steps closer, putting her arms around his shoulders.

“You don’t need to play so coy, I-”

This time she’s the one that gets cut off. He grabs her arms and gently steps away, trying to make it abundantly clear that he’s not into this.

“Woah, okay, slow down. First of all, you’re 17 and I’m turning 20 in a couple months, so that’s a hard no. Second, I don’t know where you got this idea, but I am not dating them to get closer to you. We’ve known each other since we were like, 15, and have been through everything together. I’ve only known you for a couple months. I love them. Probably more than I’ve loved anything ever. I thought that was pretty obvious.”

He doesn’t want to be mean, he really doesn’t, but he can tell from the look on her face that she still thinks this is all part of some game.

“So why don’t I ever see you eat? Why are you so smart, and always up at night? I know what you are.”

He has to physically hold back a laugh. He takes a step back, and places his hands on the counter.

“Isabella, I have adhd. And I’m literally an engineering student. Why wouldn’t I be smart and have a shitty sleep schedule?”

She starts to protest, and he pulls out the reheated take out from the microwave.

“And for the record, I do eat.”

Exiting the kitchen quickly and retreating back to your room, he hands you your food.

“I got the game set up!” you say excitedly.

“Nice!”

You take one look at his face and can tell something happened. He sees this, and continues.

“I just had a very… interesting interaction with Isabella,” before he finishes the sentence, your head is already in your hands. You let out a groan.

“What did she do?” you mutter from behind your hands.

He pulls you into his lap, rubbing your back.

“I’m not totally sure,” you laugh, “but I think she thinks I’m secretly in love with her…” you’re both laughing before he can even finish the sentence.

“No…” you laugh, “no fucking way…”

“Believe me, I put an end to that as soon as it started.”

“Oh, I do.”

He runs his hand over your back, and you’re quiet for a moment.

“You know,” he continues, “I think getting our own place has definitely moved up the priority list.”

You couldn’t agree more.

[guesst]

some of the best fantasy au fics for bnha that i've read

i decided to make a fic rec list of one of my favourite aus/fusions. mostly midoriya-centric, there are some crossovers (with hp), and a lot of different ways in which the authors have taken them - so it could be Quirks, ghosts, outright fantasy aus, spirits, witches etc etc. there isn't a specific order and there aren't a tonne (these are the ones i could find buried in my bookmarks lol), but the ones on the list are all really well written i love them.

i've tried adding relevant information, the summary (shortened if it's pretty long) and just. adding some random tags that may be important. not all of them though. obviously this is not a complete list and there will most definitely be more fics out there, if there are some really good fics that you know that aren't on this list, feel free to tell me, i'd love to read them!!!

i hope someone enjoys these!

Faith Becomes You by SugaSuga

oneshot | gen dfo, quirkless midoriya summary 'There's a tiny shrine in Musutafu that's overgrown with kudzu vines between Izuku's apartment and his middle-school. There may very well still be a god inside it. There may be nothing but the myth of a man from when Quirks were first emerging. Izuku hides in its walls for a while and ends up tending to the forgotten shrine. All good deeds have their impact, don't they?'

Of Mythos and Men by Oceanbreeze7

oneshot | gen spirit animal au, kinda summary (shortened) 'When he was young, Midoriya always wondered what his mythos would be. The matching half to his quirk, the ancestry of its power. Mythos were strange things, not linked genetically like quirks seemed to be. [...] Midoriya hadn't met his mythos. Even in UA. (In his dreams, something called to him, 'Chase me!')'

what a lion cannot manage by LadyLiterature

multichapter | ongoing | f/m, m/m kitsune au, female izuku, future bakudeku summary (shortened) 'She wants to be a hero. Wants to save everyone she meets and even the people she hasn’t. [...] A smart fox avoids fights. A smart fox does not seek them out. A smart fox does not fight for everyone. A smart fox, when they absolutely must, only fights for themselves and what is theirs and nothing else. Izumi, for all that she tries to be, is not a good fox.'

My Magic Academia by Kiterou

series | oneshots and multichapter | ongoing | gen HP crossover, wizard midoriya, platonic bkdk, some ocs summary (shortened) ' [...] In which Midoriya Inko is a witch and Izuku a wizard and even after 150 years of quirks taking over the world, Izuku still couldn't tell Kacchan that he isn't worthless and that he still could become a hero all on his own.'

A Lonely Windchime Makes No Sound by Musecookie

multichapter | ongoing | multi reader/shinso, total fantasy au, very wholesome summary (shortened) ' [...] You enjoy visiting your slightly creepy local library. When you accidentally befriend the elusive owner's familiar, he begins to appear more and more when you visit. You don't really mind, and he doesn't seem to hate you, even when the two of you become tied up in each other's fate as you pursue the secret to reviving a magical species of flower. Soft Strangers to Friends to Lovers type beat with lots of fluff and naps! Sleepy cuddles included.'

The grapes of friendship by Gentrychild

oneshot | gen crack, dfo, vampire izuku summary 'Izuku, a dhampir hiding his real identity as he goes to UA, the best wizard school in the country, spends the day with his friends. None of them are aware of it.'

Yesterday Upon the Stair by PitViperofDoom

multichapter | complete | gen less supernatural, izu's quirk lets him see ghosts, he still has ofa summary (shortened) 'Midoriya Izuku has always been written off as weird. As if it's not bad enough to be the quirkless weakling, he has to be the weird quirkless weakling on top of it. But truthfully, the "weird" part is the only part that's accurate. He's determined not to be a weakling, and in spite of what it says on paper, he's not actually quirkless [...] Not that anyone would believe it if he told them.'

sum of all (and by them driven) by Elemental

series | multichapter | ongoing | gen dadzawa, spirits give quirks, izu sees these spirits series summary 'Quirks aren't what you think they are.' first part summary (shortened) 'Midoriya Izuku is medically quirkless, not technically homeless, perpetually exhausted and doing his damned best despite it all. He also sees spirits, which might be cool if not for the fact that a) no one else does, b) they really don't like him very much, and c) he's pretty sure the heroes now think he's a villain working for the League [...]'

The Struggles of a Modern-Day Vampire by miraculousemily47

oneshot | gen crack, 1-a shenanigans, vampire midoriya summary 'After Midoriya Izuku is turned into a vampire towards the end of his first year at U.A., he decides he wants to tell his classmates about his condition. The only problem is that he can't physically say the words, and his classmates are fucking idiots.'

Lights in the Dark by FrostKitten

series | oneshots | ongoing | gen supernatural au, izuku can see demons etc, quirkless/magic au summary (of first part) 'Midoriya Izuku, like most young kids, knows there are monsters. They live in closets, under beds, and occasionally in the park. As he grows older, his friends stop seeing them...but he still does.'

Hand in Unlovable Hand by jumbletea

series | oneshots | ongoing | gen vampire midoriya (and aizawa), dadzawa, toga n dabi n mido being siblings summary 'A collection of stories surrounding a not-quite-human Izuku and everyone he meets along the way.'

Simply Superstitious by CryCaladrius

multichapter | ongoing | gen lots of folklore and yokai and stuff, 'quirkless' magic user izuku, decent dad hisashi too summary (shortened) 'Izuku Midoriya’s father is a Hou-ou — a Japanese phoenix. For some reason, this means yokai have a standing invitation to pester Izuku with their existence. Birds assemble choirs for his birthday. If there’s no cedar leaf under the welcome mat, the amazake babaa that lives two apartments over will be knocking on their door by evening. His yokai-purifying excursions get mistaken for vigilantism far too often. [...]'

Cuckoo Bird (anonymous author)

multichapter | ongoing/maybe discontinued | gen it may be discontinued but theres lots of fae folklore, deku is a changeling, deals etc, plus some platonic shindeku building up?? summary 'There's something off about Midoriya Izuku. (change·ling /ˈCHānjliNG/ noun a child believed to have been secretly substituted by fairies for the parents' real child in infancy.)'

tread softly as you go by IceEckos12

oneshot | gen if you read any fae au please let it be this! has faeries but mido is not one summary 'Humans used to be good at the old ways. They used to know how to bait the trap, to spin a web of words and lies that would ensnare even the most wily. Humans used to be able to twist deceptions around knots of iron and turn them into weapons of power. They forgot a long, long time ago. A boy unwittingly makes a deal with one of the fae, severing his ties to humanity. However, he finds that the fae world is far more strange and complex than he ever could have imagined.'

Hell is just a shoujo manga by supercrunch

multichapter | complete | f/m fantasy au, bakudeku, fem!izuku, isekai, dekusquad stuff, also some iidachako summary (shortened) 'Izuku wakes up crushed under a statue, trapped in the body of a princess who doesn't exist. Turns out she's a demon, which is weird. What's even weirder is the déjà vu that surrounds Kamino palace, reminding her of the events of this one manga she used to love. [...] But that's probably just a coincidence. [...] The problem here, obviously, is that Izuku's the demon princess. Ergo, she's a villain. And that means she's going to die at the end of this manga. Again.'

hold your breath as you cross by cassiopeia721

oneshot | gen dadzawa, another 'quirks are from spirits au' (expect more of those actually), mido is sad :( summary 'As the bridge between the world of guardian spirits and the quirk users who are blessed by them, Izuku's duty is to clean up the mess his predecessor left. It's taken what feels like an eternity worth of work, but Izuku's finally finished, and he's ready to rest at last. Unfortunately, the pro heroes who just watched him take down the Scourge of Kamino have no intention of letting him just wander off, and he finds himself stuck in an interrogation room with a bunch of humans who he's sure will never believe a word he says.'

To See with Eyes Unclouded by CrazySatan

series | oneshots | ongoing | gen witch au, witch midoriya, quirkless mido, bkg is not a good friend series summary 'Midoriya Izuku is a witch. A powerful witch. And even though he doesn't have a quirk, and magic doesn't Work Like That, Izuku ends up a hero. Somehow.'

Demons and Darkness by wolfsrainrules

series | oneshots | ongoing | gen dadzawa, shinso and mido and bkg are becoming friends, they can see monsters/spirits/bad things summary of first part 'Izuku has believed in the things that go bump in the night since he was small. That means he can see them, and almost everyone he knows....can't. So he decides he's going to be the shield humanity needs, no matter what. Eventually, he finds others that See too.'

know what i've made by the marks on my hands by simkjrs

multichapter | ongoing/maybe discontinued | gen dadzawa, quirk spirit au (this inspired most of the others on this list), also eri summary (shortened) 'Midoriya Izuku just wants to lead a quiet, peaceful life. This is foiled by the fact that a) he can see spirits, b) his good nature demands that he help anyone he sees in trouble, and c) he, by all rights, should not exist. [...]'

Izuku haunts class 1-A by Artistic-Gamer

series or multichapter whichever floats your boat | incomplete (hiatus) | other there are some triggering themes! such as suicide, blood, body disfigurement! please take care of yourself and avoid reading if this will hurt you! in other news: so much dadzawa, so much friendship, hurt mido summary (of first part) 'Class 1-A is rumored to be haunted, only the residents are aware it’s more than just a rumor..'

U.A's Resident Ghost by BeyondTheClouds777

multichapter | ongoing/maybe discontinued | gen ghost midoriya, dadzawa, friendships!!!! summary 'There is a ghost at U.A. Not haunting U.A. Not even hanging out at U.A. There is a ghost. Enrolled. As a student of U.A. And it's just Shouta's luck that he has everything to do with it.'

and now, the weather by xylophones

oneshot | gen CRACK, paranormal/ghost hunters au, dekusquad stuff summary 'Izuku runs a fictional horror radio show. Because ghosts aren’t real. Right? (“Holy shit, ghosts are real,” Izuku whispers. Then, with the smugness of a sixteen-year-old who just won a decade long bet, “I knew it! Kacchan owes me five hundred yen!” “Midoriya,” Todoroki sighs, “this ghost is trying to kill us.”)'

U.A Unsolved by handcrusher(ameliafromafairytale)

oneshot | gen (it's a fic of a fic, so if you've read yesterday upon the stair then you'll understand better) izuku can see ghosts thats his quirk summary ' "Hey there, ghosts," Midoriya says, "it's me, ya boy." The dorms are haunted. Shenanigans ensue.'

The Haunting of Class 1-A by BritishRobutt

multichapter | ongoing/maybe discontinued | n/a ghost midoriya, vigilante au, crack, the ghost bit is izu's quirk summary 'Everyone always told Izuku he couldn't be a hero, so when he dies and discovers his quirk, he becomes a vigilante out of spite. Whoops. After becoming Spectre, Japan's most wanted vigilante, Izuku realizes he can just fulfill his dreams of going to the top heroic school- after all, who can physically stop him from attending UA when he's a literal ghost?'

Caged by SternStunde

oneshot | gen tododeku, fantasy au (todo is a dragon, mido is a princess), genderbent deku (fem deku) summary 'Then she held up one of the books and smiled. "Want to learn an ancient language with me?" She was kind of a nerd, and she really hoped the dragon was too.'

Magic Runs Deep by draconicschinx

multichapter | ongoing/probably discontinued | gen mido has a quirk and he can see mythical creatures. summary '"Midoriya Izuku has always been good at making friends. Not human ones, really, but they are good friends nonetheless. " Izuku can see and talk to and interact with mythical creatures. It's not exactly the quirk he was hoping for, but he's going to use it to help humans and his non-human friends all the same.'

[where-dreamers-go]

James Conrad x Fem!Reader (Soulmate AU) Part One

(A/N: I wanted to experiment with another soulmate alternative universe. Predominantly in James’ point of view. This has been (slowly) in the works for a long while. Again, I went back to this now in 2021 when this was typed from a notebook in 2019. I kind of forgot about this one…my bad. So this is for @girl-next-door-writes Bingo Challenge~! Yeah, I know I have a few other insert readers that I’m working on, but this one was basically finished and I can’t believe I forgot about it. Part One, Erica? Yeah, I know...we get there when we get there. Bingo Card: Soulmates Warnings: Brief and vague mentions of people not surviving on Skull Island. Word Count: 3,246 words )

A world with ancient creatures long forgotten and slowly being remembered was an intricate puzzle. There were believers, those who were neutral, and those who spit negativity at the notion of something against their beliefs.

A society and world where soulmates could found one another on their own was exciting for the hopeful. Bioluminescent glow of the skin acted as a compass with one’s soulmate in place of North. A part of the body closest to the direction of one’s soulmate would glow. It could be the tip of a nose, an extended elbow, or any small pinpoint glow unless one’s soulmate was closer. The more near to one’s soulmate, the larger the glowing area. 

✧ ✧ ✧

James’ skin never glowed more than the size of a small coin. He had traveled more than the average citizen. He had been a captain, Special Operations, but was a civilian once more as a hirable tracker. Yet agreeing to go aboard his last job changed everything. What he knew about the world and her creatures was altered. Skull Island was only a part of it all.

On top of being forced into Monarch’s containment and learning that there were other monsters out there around the world—his skin was glowing in large patches. It was distracting for himself and those with him. The others were getting quite interested and offering to help. As it had been glowing more noticeably since he and Mason were briefed on the ancient super species.

“I can handle it. Let’s stay on topic, shall we?” James asked, as he walked out of the concrete holding room.

“Are you sure? Because—,” the boy, Houston, swallowed his words at the quick glance from James. “Right.”

It was no secret that the two scientists, Houston Brooks and San Lin, found James’ glowing skin to be a big deal. Seeing someone’s skin glow about the size of their hand was nothing to ignore. Yet that was what James intended to do. There were larger situations to consider, especially as the two scientists took Mason and James to another area—finally—once they were on board.

“More of your skin is glowing,” said Mason, her voice hushed.

“I know.” James stated, but not as flatly as he intended to end the conversation.

“I wonder who it is,” Houston stated.

“Someone in Monarch definitely,” San added.

“Again, may we stay on topic?” James looked pointedly at each of his companions.

“Sorry.”

“Yes.”

He did not have a clear idea where they were being lead in the government building, but he did know it would lead to more information on the matters Monarch was involved in.

✧ ✧ ✧

Work had been left ignored, procrastinated for hours. Your eyes studying your own skin as its bioluminescence when you had walked through the compound and as you sat in your small office.

You were brought into Monarch almost a year ago with promises of knowledge and helping others. Your curiosity had sucked you in. It was a home, workplace, and life like no other. There were many surreal moments, definitely, considering ancient creatures not being just legends. Something a zoologist like yourself dove into researching.

You were happy. You had a purpose of helping others. The more you learned and researched, the more you felt actually fulfilled. Also, the more paperwork and notes you had pinned to the wall and filed onto your desk.

Seeing your skin’s soulmate glow broaden in size seemed more otherworldly than writing down a wingspan for Mothra.

Sighing, you rotated your forearm as the glow spread to your bicep.

This week just keeps getting more intense, you thought. First an expedition on Skull Island, now—

Knock knock

You quickly rolled down the sleeves of your shirt.

“Hey, (Y/N).” Houston walked in through the open doorway, “got a minute?”

“Sure.” You answered, standing from your seat.

Three more people walked into your office, one of which you recognized as San.

“May I help you?” You asked as you made an effort not to make any direct eye contact with the newcomers for at least a moment longer.

“Ah…” His eyes were on the man he had brought with him.

“Houston?”

He coughed before speaking and turning his attention elsewhere, “This is Mason Weaver—.”

“Hi.” Mason waved, a woman with dirty blonde hair.

“Hi,” you smiled and waved in return. The glow appearing out of your hand. You quickly tucked your hands behind your back. A glow then brightening your face.

“—And…this is James Conrad.”

“Hi.” The tall man swallowed dryly, his face and neck glowing warmly. Extremely obviously.

Oh, dear, you thought.

Clearly, out of everything that happened in the past week, he was not prepared for meeting his soulmate. Neither were you.

“Hi.” Your voice lacked the strength you were hoping to pull out of yourself for one second away from your work. Although it did not seem to hurt any of the introductions.

Quiet quickly took over your small office. Multiple pairs of eyes looked between you and the Mister Conrad. With your desk behind you, you were a cornered little mammal.

“So, what’s your job here?” Mason asked, breaking through the other’s silent stares.

“I’m a zoologist and here at Monarch I try to figure out how these species live—survive in their environments. Hoping to learn about their evolution and habits. Basically the animal kingdom.” You answered, your shoulders slacking some.

“She also has an interest in mythology, which is a great help to us,” Houston piped up.

“If I was more into cryptology it would make this a little more fun. If not give me a small head start when I first came here.”

“Speaking of head start…How much time do you think we have?” Mason asked.

“Time… Uh. Considering we survived this long as a species, how technology is progressing, and how your expedition unearthed some of the creatures….I would say that we still have time before the world—our society as a whole—knows them as facts. That much can be said.”

“That’s good news.”

“But that doesn’t mean all humans or even our technology will be prepared for their arrival or even living amongst them.”

“I’m not sure I want to live next door to one of them,” Houston pointed out.

“The creatures already live here. They were here first.” San added.

“We are the ones who must adapt.” James said, arms crossed over his chest.

Your breath came in quickly as your eyes reminded you of the man’s own bioluminescence. It covered all of his arms’ skin that was visible from his short-sleeve shirt. Mesmerizing you in thoughts that seemed too supernatural and much too distracting for the topic at hand.

“Are we not gonna talk about you two’s skins glowing?” Houston asked, jolting you out of your thoughts.

You straightened up hastily.

“Learning all we can about ancient creatures that could possibly destroy the human race and other creatures of the world comes first.” You said, though perhaps more to yourself. It wasn’t entirely a ‘no’.

“Agreed.” James stated, arms still crossed and glowing.

You had only taken a glimpse at him from the corner of your eye.

“Alright,” Houston drew out the word. “The world is top priority.”

“As it should,” San added. “And we should show Mason and James the other wing. Show them their rooms and where they can eat.”

“It was nice meeting you,” Mason said as she turned towards the door.

“Likewise,” you smiled.

“A pleasure,” James said shortly before leaving just before Mason.

Houston and San gave their short goodbyes as they left you to your work.

You plopped down onto your chair. Heart thumping loudly in your chest, you shuttered as you let out a breath of air.

“He’s here.”

✧ ✧ ✧

Mason and James were shown more of the facility on the way to the living area. A whole opposite wing inside of the secret facility where those in Monarch could stay. It was impressive. Their separate rooms would be the final stop on the tour.

James wondered if there would be no leaving that place. After time, would he want to?

I’m going to have to help people. I’m alright with that. If they need help—the world, I’ll do what I can. He thought as he counted off the doors they passed.

Houston and San lead the way.

“I can’t believe you didn’t stay and talk with her,” Mason declared from beside James. “Actually I can. Nevermind.”

“There’s no time.” James said.

“That’s a poor excuse for someone who just heard that we do have time. Years even.”

“But would it be worth it?” He countered.

“That’s up to you and her. You could also learn a lot more about this place.”

“I think I’ve heard enough about this place for one day.”

He knew that Mason was trying to bait him, but also to genuinely help. It wasn’t an everyday thing to hear about someone finding their soulmate; let alone see it happen.

It had to happen this way, didn’t it?

When night fell and James was finally alone, he was reminded of everything he had pushed to the back of his mind. Well fed and cleaned up, he laid in bed. He could not help but to stare at the glowing of his skin on his left side. It meant that you did not leave the facility either. Could you though? He reached out his left arm and watched as his entire hand glowed. Bright whites and warm yellow tones. Even when he was in the UK his skin never glowed more than the size of his thumb. His soulmate was there. Alive and healthy.

He sighed.

Normally he would not even think about his soulmate or even remember about a glowing patch of his skin because it was always out of sight or not enough to notice. Too many changes and discoveries. Then he met you. However brief of a meeting, James had felt something spark in his mind and his veins. Somewhere in him, he felt a connection. An interest that rooted itself inside of him where he could not see.

Closing his eyes, James settled with his thoughts.

She’s safe. That’s what’s important.

✧ ✧ ✧

James awakened from his half-sleep state from a knocking on the room’s only door. Rolling out of bed, he walked to see who needed to see him. It was not until his entire front was glowing brighter than yesterday did he know for certain who was behind the door. He flicked on the room light. Sleep faded from his mind completely.

He took a breath in.

Upon opening the door, he did not mind greeting who he saw.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning,” you smiled all tense with your face all aglow.

A small smile curled his lips.

Guess it didn’t take her long to figure out which room I was in.

“I’m sorry if it’s too early.” You said, voice hushed.

“It’s fine. Truly.”

“I was just…wondering if you were okay.”

He could of laughed at the statement, but he chose against it.

“Considering I was lucky to return alive from an island full of monsters, was taken against my will to be brought here, was shown a presentation of other monsters on the planet, and still haven’t left this place—I would have to say that simply ‘okay’ doesn’t quite fit.”

Silence filled the hall.

James felt a twinge of guilt seeing the mixture of hurt on your face unfiltered. Your fingers intertwined tightly. He waited to hear what you would say.

You finally found words you wanted to share, “Monarch tends to be a bit dramatic and secretive, but I think that’s because it’s difficult for Monarch as a whole to find people they can trust.”

“They seem to trust you a great deal.”

“I’ve just gathered information. I’m a zoologist and I also want to make sense of what our world really is—but that doesn’t mean I’ll figure out everything we should even know about one of these creatures. I do my best. I don’t go out recruiting or anything. I haven’t even been out in the field in months.”

He saw more than he had yesterday how the subjects at hand were making you distressed. Seen from how your eyes looked panicked and you hid your hands in the sleeves of your sweater.

“I’m sorry for what you went through on the island. No one should have gotten hurt or…,” your voice trailed off.

“Each of us knew the risks—to a degree.”

“But you weren’t told the truth. It wasn’t fair.”

James leaned against the doorway. New thoughts coming forward in his mind.

“Were you available to go to Skull Island?”

“I—,” you cocked your head at him before your eyes glanced elsewhere. “Bill Randa told me to look over my research. Basically like writing a second draft to a paper. He told me that I was missing something. But…we didn’t have any new information coming in at the time.”

“Any chance he was wary of whether or not you would have told those he hired why we were really there?”

That would have been helpful. But Houston and San did not say anything either.

“I…I don’t know. I’ve never told a secret before. Not that any of this is really a secret. It’s more like myths and stories that people wouldn’t likely believe at first glance.”

He watched as you rubbed your arms still deep in thought.

James straightened up.

“Would you care to come in? I think we’ve stood out here long enough.” He smiled.

You smiled kindly in return.

“Would it be alright if we talked about something other than monsters?” You inquired.

“Sure. Did you have anything in mind?” He dearly hoped you were not going to ask about the War or that part of his past that interested most others.

No doubt she had heard something from Houston or San. Or she asked.

To his surprise and only partial relief, you held up a single glowing finger.

Right. That.

James’ chest rose and fell before he nodded in agreement. The man moved back inside the room given to him and held the door open as you gingerly entered.

As you passed him the side of your face glowed a bright white that his eyes seemed to follow without a second thought.

Seconds ticked by and you were both still standing around and not sure what to do as you both glowed, keeping a distance.

You rose your eyebrows, amused with the silence.

One of us has to say something, he thought.

What was there to say? It was not the most ideal of circumstances around.

“I…I must apologize for being so blunt when we met.” James said. “Everything has just been adding up and piling on more information. I didn’t want to put any of that emotion towards you. None of this was expected.”

“It’s alright. I mean, I always figured I’d miss my chance at meeting my—uh, you know…”

James nodded.

“Because of my work and usually being inside or one place. Not really moving around. Plus I figured I’d somehow walk right passed or something and not notice because I’m focused on other things.”

“Your work is important to you. That’s good.”

“Yeah,” you smiled a bit as you rested your hands on your hips. “Nothing like good work ethic in something your interested in. Though right now it’s quite the topics.”

Narrowing his eyes for a moment, James figured you were talking about more than just monsters. About him, perhaps?

We keep dancing around the soulmate subject. What do we even want? What do I want?

“It’d been nice to focus on other things.” You said.

What?

The corner of your lips quirked up as you looked at him.

“Things about what other people do or are interested in.” You clarified. You had read his expression well enough.

“I’m not sure what information I could offer.” James stated softly. “I was still a tracker for hire when Monarch offered me the job.” He had not entirely wanted to bring that up to you, however there was not much else. How personal did he want to be? This was the most time he had spent in your presence since meeting you the day before. To him, you did not seem the radical type like those he encountered while on Skull Island. Time would tell when he would open up more to you. Even the whole soulmate subject was a heavy topic.

You seemed determined enough to push through the conversation.

“Could…,” you pressed your lips together in a tight line. Eyes no longer meeting his. “This is probably extremely personal, but—if you wanted to…would you had been able to find me on your own?”

“The glowing would had made it exceedingly easier. Yes.”

You nodded, taking in his words.

“Would you?” He asked.

Eyes returning to his, your shoulders perked higher. You shook your head.

“Even working for Monarch, I couldn’t.” You said quietly. “I think it worked out though.” You shrugged, trying to defend your happiness of meeting James.

She really is happy to have met me. Finding me though…That’s what I figured, he thought. She can’t travel the world with her expertise without support. She couldn’t have been able to find me in Vietnam. Seeing her office, she probably would had been helpful on the trip. He froze at his thoughts. No. That would had been terrible.

“I know that we agreed not to speak about any more monsters, however,” he inhaled visibly, “I am glad that you were not on that expedition.”

“Why?” Your question was out of curiosity not pride.

“Your presence would had made it more complicated. None of it would have been of your own doing. Rather, uh, the stakes would have been higher. Greater.”

Just the start of his mind thinking about if you there bothered him. The creatures, the people, unknown environment they found themselves in, and the secrets that were held.

“Oh…that sort of makes sense.”

“Sorry,” he took a step closer to you. “It’s just there were guns being pointed to anyone who disagreed with the Lieutenant Colonel. And if you were there I’m sure he would have used you as leverage or had threatened you or worse. Our glowing skins would have made us easy targets.”

“Not to forget the wildlife as I heard briefly.”

“That too. I’m so glad you weren’t there and I say that with much respect to you.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

That didn’t sound forward, did it?

“At least this is a much more safer environment to get to know one another.” James said.

At the closer proximity he could see that even the tip of your nose was glowing. He had never seen someone’s entire face illuminated before. To know it was from his presence, gave him an emotion he could not immediately place.

“How long do you plan on staying?”

The question struck him deep. James had not even left Vietnam when the war was over and even in Monarch he was not sure where he would stay. Was there a place for him in Monarch? He was a tracker and they were discovering monsters who lived below the Earth’s surface. He could find work there, but could he find a life there?

“As long as I am needed.”

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful.

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

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[superbadassnatural]

A Lot to Make up For

Summary: Dean threw a fit when he saw something he didn’t like. To say you were angry with him was an understatement. The least thing he could do was make-up for his behavior. Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: 4,647 Warnings: smut, oral sex (fem receiving), p in v, little bit of spanking, jealous!Dean, mentions of fwb relationship, a bit of crack? A/N: this was written for “SPN Bi-Weekly Challenge” hosted by the amazing @supernatural-jackles. There are three prompts in this one and they are all bolded. I’m trying to understand why tumblr flagged this post when I uploaded the gif I made, which is similar to this one, but not flagged it when I used someone else’s. Either way, at least one of them worked. Please, enjoy it!

(x)

When you decided to come to the bar, you didn’t expect it to be this crowded. Loud conversations competed with the sound of the electronic music. Somehow you managed to find an empty barstool and ran for it. You ordered a beer, sipping at it, unsure of what you were really doing here.

You needed a night out. It had been a while since you last went out by yourself. You usually hung out with the boys, but this time you didn’t want to. It’s not like you didn’t want to be around them, you just wanted to enjoy some quality time alone.

A man sat beside you. He seemed to be around your age and he was definitely a sight for sore eyes. The man turned to you, introduced himself, and started a small talk that turned into an interesting — and mostly funny — conversation.

Andrew was good to be around. He was a stranger, but he somehow knew how to make you laugh. He even bought you a couple of beers and fries.

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get out of the bar and have your way with him between the sheets. Or maybe it was the way he was flirting with you that was making those thoughts run through your mind. You didn’t even notice he was that close to you. Your knees brushed each other under the wooden counter. His knuckles ran down your forearm. Every now and then his brown eyes would descend to your lips as you spoke. He wanted it as much as you did.

“You know, I was thinking...” he scooted closer, eyes leaving yours to dart to your painted lips. “Maybe we should-“

“Oh, there you are,” a familiar voice interrupted him.

Dean. He stepped towards you, a smile playing on his lips. Both you and Andrew frowned.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you, sweetheart,” his hand made its way to your waist as he planted a kiss to the side of your head.

“Dean, what’re you doing here?” You asked, trying to pull away from his hold.

“I was worried sick, baby,” he said. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“I’m sorry,” Andrew stepped in just as confused as you. “Who are you?”

“I’m Dean, her boyfriend,” he beamed, holding out his hand, but Andrew didn’t take it. “Listen, thanks, man, for taking care of her. I’m glad you were keeping her company. Who knows what would happen if you weren’t here. Maybe some bastard would’ve tried to take advantage of her.”

“Her boyfriend?” The man was trying to wrap his mind around what Dean was saying.

“No!” You jumped it.

“Yeah,” he said at the same time as you did. “I don’t know why she’s saying I’m not.”

“Sorry, man,” he looked at you as if you were some lying bitch. “She told me she was single.”

“I am single! He’s my friend.”

“Well, I don’t know if she’s told you, but she suffers from short-term memory loss,” Dean pursed his lips.

What the hell is he talking about, you thought to yourself.

“You know, like Dory from Finding Nemo,” he added. “She probably forgot we were dating. She’s probably going to forget about you too so I suggest you go away. If she forgets you and sees you, she won’t understand a thing. It’ll only make her poor mind even more confused.”

“It must be hard to deal with that,” Andrew sighed, buying Dean’s crap. “Well, I’ll leave you guys be. Sorry about that, man.”

Andrew headed out of the bar. You were too dumbfounded by the whole situation to go after him and explain that your best friend was delusional. He probably wouldn’t believe it anyway. Dean burst into laughter.

“Are you out of your mind?” You nearly roared at him, slapping his hands off of you.

“Oh, you gotta admit that was funny,” he gushed between laughter.

“No, Dean, it wasn’t,” you glared at him. “It was ridiculous and extremely disrespectful. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home.”

You stormed out of the bar with Dean hot on your tail. Your blood was boiling. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he just let you get some tonight? You stopped in front of your car and turned to him.

“Get lost, Winchester. I don’t want you near me tonight.”

“C’mon, sweetheart. I’m your best friend. I’m your favorite person in this whole world,” he bargained.

“Best friend?” You chuckled humorlessly. “Since when best friends do stuff like that? Seriously, Dean, that was low even for you. I don’t wanna see you tonight or tomorrow or for the rest of the week! Not even if you’re covered in gold.”

“Not even if I’m naked and covered in gold with your favorite chocolate?”

“No. Actually, the thought of you naked just made me throw up in my mouth a little.”

“Well, that wasn’t what you said a few days ago,” he had the cockiest grin playing on his lips. Maybe he thought he could charm his way and you would forgive him.

“Fuck you,” you sneered. “If you do so much as follow me, I’m gonna murder you!”

Hopping in your car, you turned the engine and headed home. Your hands gripped tight the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. You couldn’t for the life of you understand what had gotten into him. He’d never acted like that. He didn’t have the right to.

In about ten minutes you arrived at the condominium you live in. Parking in your spot, you let out a frustrated sigh before climbing off the car. You were glad he didn’t follow you. At least he had a little respect for you.

As you stepped foot into your apartment you rushed to the bathroom. A shower would do wonders for your tense muscles. Maybe it would even wash your anger away. You turned on the water and checked the temperature before hopping in. You relaxed immediately as the warm water hit your skin.

Although you felt more relaxed after showering, your mind was still on a thousand miles per hour. Dean had never behaved the way he did tonight. Throughout your eleven years of friendship, he had never disrespected you or crossed any boundaries. But tonight he did. Maybe he was angry because you decided to hit a bar and didn’t invite him. It doesn’t justify his behavior.

You’d be lying if you said you were just friends. Over a year ago, after many drinks you and Dean had sex. It was nice, but you barely remembered anything the following morning. So you did it sober. It might have been a dumb idea, but boy it felt good. Dean suggested you should keep doing that and you agreed. No strings attached. No exclusivity. Just two friends blowing off some steam every now and then.

What you have with Dean doesn’t give him the right to act the way he did. He’s not your boyfriend. Both of you agreed that it was okay to see other people and even have sex with them — always with protection. Aside from Dean, you only had sex with one person since you started to fool around. Now, when you finally got the chance to hang out with some guy, he decided to show up and throw a fit? Who does he think he is?

“Ah, screw him,” you mumbled.

Shifting into your ideal sleeping position, your body relaxed on the mattress. Thank God for memory foam. It didn’t take long for tiredness to take over and for you to drift off to sleep.

The unceasing sound of the doorbell ringing startled you. You stood to your feet abruptly, but soon regretted when you felt dizzy. Putting on your robe, you headed to the front door not even bothering to look through the peephole. It seemed to be some kind of emergency. No one would be ringing the doorbell this late if it wasn’t urgent. Unlocking the door, you opened it.

“Hey. How can I-“ you stopped once you met his green eyes. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Y/N, I’m sorry-“

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” you hissed, trying to push the door close but his feet stopped you.

“I need to talk to you.”

“I don’t care. It’s fucking three in the morning. I have to get up early to go to work,” your hand gripped tight to the knob, ready to close the door in his face if he tried to come in. “I’m sorry, but not everyone works for their dad and can show up late everyday.”

“We both know tomorrow is your day off,” he said. “Please let me in. I need to talk to you. Then you can kick me out and go back to your beauty sleep.”

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes, stepping aside for him to come in. “But only because I’m mad at you and I’m in the mood for a fight.”

“Can we fight so we can have angry make-up sex later?” A smirk appeared on his plump lips.

“Sex with you?” You snickered. “Never again.”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he pleaded. “It’s been two weeks since we had some fun.”

“Did you come here so you could get laid? Did ou wake me up just so you could have sex with me? Really, Dean?”

“No, of course not. If I wanted to have sex with you, I would have texted you first,” he said. “I came here to apologize.”

“Oh, so you know you screwed up. Good.”

“Would you let me finish?” You rolled your eyes crossing your arms over your chest. “I came here to surprise you. I thought we could have a sleepover since you don’t have to go to work tomorrow. I even brought my Die Hard collection so we could watch it tonight. I bought two slices of pie on the way. Cherry for me and apple for you. Imagine my surprise when I open the door and there’s not a single light on.”

“So what? Are you telling me that it’s my fault now? I should have stayed home waiting for you?” You pointed your finger at him. “Is that the reason why you did what you did at the bar?”

“I looked for you everywhere. Then Jess told me you went out for a drink at Hardy’s. So I went after you. When I saw that guy with his hands all over you, I flipped. I knew I couldn’t punch him and start a fight so I did that.”

“You know you’re not my boyfriend, right? Or my father for that matter?” You stepped closer to him. “So why did you have to ruin things for me tonight? I’ve never done anything like that to you. Never! Why did you have to be such an idiot?”

“I was jealous, okay?” He growled.

“It still doesn’t give you the right to do that, Dean,” you yelled at him. “You know, Dean, every time you, Sam, and I go to a bar, you leave us on the table to hit on the bartender. I wouldn’t have a problem with that if your brother was single. Don’t get me wrong, I love Jess, but if Sam was single then he’d hit on someone and I’d be free to do that too. Or even better, I could make out with him!” You exclaimed, knowing it would piss him off. “Oh, Jess told me some things that you probably don’t wanna know, but they were really interesting. In case you don’t know, girls talk about sex too. From what she’s told me, I bet he’s better than you. I mean, he’s definitely bigger so-“

“Shut up!” He yelled. You could see his jaw tightening as the veins in his neck throbbed.

“You know what’s even worse? When Jess comes with us, I’m third-wheeling most of the time. For some reason, they won’t let me get two feet away from them.”

“I hit on the bartenders to make you jealous. It’s all fake,” he nearly barked. “I thought that maybe if I did that I’d get a reaction from you because I’m too much of a coward to do the right thing.”

“You do remember our agreement, right? Just sex. No feelings. We are non-exclusive. We can see other people and even have sex. We made a bunch of rules back in that day. One of them was no cockblocking,” your blood was boiling in your veins. You could feel your anger grow with every word you said.

“I’m sorry, okay? But I couldn’t just stand there and watch that son of a bitch getting all handsy.”

“While you were having fun with bartenders and girls you met every time we went out, I was alone. Since we started this, I’ve only had sex with one person and it was-“

“Terrible. I know you said the guy was awful.”

“It’s not that I think I should be having sex with half of the men in town, but if you can have sex with everyone you want then why can’t I? Every time I try to hang out with someone, I get sabotaged.”

“Ever since we started this, I’ve only had sex with you. I tried to be with someone else but it didn’t work because she wasn’t you.”

“Oh my God, it was you!” Reality downed to you as you ignored him. The sound of your raged heart much louder than his voice. “You sabotaged me every time! The broken lock, flat tires, and all that crap that happened every time I got close to a guy. They were all you.”

“Yeah, it was me,” Dean barked. “You deserve better than those guys.”

“Who gave you the right to do that, you idiot? Why did you have to do that?”

“Because I love you dammit!” His voice was much louder, causing you to flinch.

“Well, maybe that’s the problem!” You yelled back at him.

You spun around completely done with him, your head was pounding in your skull. The last thing you saw before storming out of the apartment was his jaw wiring shut as his eyes filled with rage.

The door slammed with a loud thud, startling Dean. He was pulled out of his angry trance when he noticed he was standing alone in the middle of your apartment. He knew he had screwed up big time. He’d not planned on confessing his feelings to you tonight. Especially not like this.

You stood dumbstruck in the hall just outside your door. Everything happened so fast. One minute you were peacefully asleep, the other you and Dean were almost jumping at each other’s throats. He shouldn’t have said he loves you. And you shouldn’t have stormed out the way you did.

“God, what have I done?” you sighed.

The sound of the door opening and closing echoed through the corridor. You didn’t want to turn around. You couldn’t face him.

“You realize you just stormed out of your apartment, right?” He let out a small chuckle to try to light up the mood.

“You see what you do to me?” You turned around to face him. His green eyes held anything but anger. “You make me so mad that I do stupid things like storming out of my own home when I should’ve kicked you out.”

“Hey, you don’t need me to do stupid things. You can do that on your own,” he held his hands up, a cheeky grin playing on his lips. “Now let’s get inside, shall we?”

You only nodded, following him back inside.

“So what do we do now, huh?” He asked, shutting the door.

“You don’t love me. I mean- you do, but as your best friend.”

“No, Y/N, I love you as more than my best friend.”

“Stop,” you argued. “You can’t, okay? Or you’re gonna ruin everything.”

“Ruin what? We both know this is not a friends with benefits shit. It never was.”

“Dean-“

“This is not one-sided and you know it, Y/N,” he said, voice deeper than usual. “What we did… what we do is not just sex. Or do I have to tell you how many times we actually made love?”

“Why are you doing this?” Your voice wavered.

“Because I love you, Y/N.”

“Then don’t. You’re screwing things up.”

“Why can’t you just admit it? Why is it so hard for you to finally say it?”

“I can’t risk losing you,” you said low enough that he almost didn’t hear you. Almost. “The moment we take that step there’s no going back and I can’t risk losing you. I can’t.”

“You’re not gonna lose me,” he placed his hands on both sides of your hips, his body incredibly close to yours.

“You can’t promise me that.”

“You’re right. I can’t, but I’ll do anything to be with you.”

Fingers curling in the collar of his flannel, you pulled him to you, capturing his lips with yours. Your heart skipped a beat as he returned the kiss. It was slow at first, almost uncertain. The soft press of his lips made you melt into his touch. Your tongue caressed his plump lips in a plea for him to allow you to delve into his mouth. A muffled moan escaped his lips as his hands came up to cup your face, thumb circling your cheek.

You pulled away in need of air. Your eyes were still closed as you rested your forehead against his.

“I don’t know about you but I’m still down for some angry make-up sex,” he said between panted breaths.

“Dean-“

“Stop denying what you want, Y/N.”

Swallowing thick, you opened your eyes only to meet his green orbs hooded with lust. With arms around his neck, you wrapped your legs around his waist, lips colliding with his. Warm hands held you by the back of your thighs as he walked towards your bedroom. He pushed you against the wall, placing you back on the floor. His lips graced the skin of your neck with sweet yet hungry kisses. Your body was pressed flush to him. You could feel his heart beating fast against your chest and his growing bulge against your pelvis. A moan left your lips as one of his hands hiked up your leg and squeezed your thigh over the silky robe. Dean pressed himself to you and you bucked your hips, the feeling of his erection against your soaked pussy setting your body on fire.

Hurried hands fumbled with the knot tying your robe. He pushed it off your shoulders, revealing your naked before him, the soft material pooling around your feet.

“Fuck,” he said in a low grunt as his eyes wandered over your bare chest.

A smile spread on your lips. Always the same reaction from him. You unbuttoned his flannel, dropping it to the floor. As Dean yanked his white shirt over his head, your hands reached for his naked torso, traveling down to his abdomen and stopping over his belt, quickly unbuckling it. He pulled down his pants, standing in front of you only in his boxers. You pushed him towards the bed, straddling his hips as he sat. Hungry lips captured his plump, pink ones, his hands snaked to your back. The soft touch of his fingertips sending shivers down your spine.

“Need you,” a breathy moan escaped your lips.

Dean’s back met the softness of the mattress, green eyes sparkling at the sight of you on top of him. You leaned and his hands reached for your breasts. Fingers nipped at your hardened bud as his mouth enveloped the other. His name escaped your lips in a tiny whimper as you rolled your hips against him. He released your nipple with a pop and planted kisses everywhere he could touch.

You pushed down his boxers, revealing his hard cock in all its glory. Your small hand wrapped around his length, stroking it before circling the head with your thumb.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he hissed. “Want you. I need to taste you. Come up here.”

You crawled up, knees around his broad shoulders. As your hands met the headboard, he lowered your body to his face. Dean wanted to take his time. He peppered open-mouthed kisses on the inside of your thighs. He ran his nose over your folds and you let out a frustrated moan.

“Stop teasing.”

“Tell me what you need, sweetheart,” although you didn’t see it, you felt his lips curl into a smirk.

“I need to cum.”

Three teasing licks from your slit to clit caused your breath to hitch on your throat. He wanted to drive you insane and he definitely knew how to do it. Dean licked and sucked your most sensitive parts. Parts he knew by heart. His tongue entered your channel and you saw stars. Fingers finding their course to his hair, gripping it to the point of pain. A guttural grunt from him made your whole body shudder. You tried to buck your hips against his sinful mouth, but his strong grip on your hips restrained your movements. He kept pushing his tongue as far as he could, tasting your sweetness as he feasted. Muffled moans and husky hums escaped his lips, reverberating through your soaked folds. He enjoyed this as much as you did.

“Hmm, yes,” you moaned.

When you felt his grasp on you loosen, you rolled your hips. All your self-consciousness fading as the need to come grew stronger. Your hands dropped to the mattress, ass angling up. His tongue started to circulate your clit, sending small shivers through your body. You glanced over your shoulder, eyes landing on his hand stroking his cock slowly. Your cunt clenched around nothing. His teeth grazed over your bundle of nerves, nipping slightly. The burning coil in your abdomen tightened. Dean sealed his lips around your clit and you went off as a rocket. Your legs trembled around his head as he kept sucking. Waves of pleasure washed over you.

“Fuck, Dean,” you yelled out his name along with a bunch of obscenities.

Dean moaned as he lapped at your juices. He licked you clean until you rode out your orgasm. He kissed your sensitive clit before helping you scooting down so you could meet his face.

“Hi,” you smiled as you laid on top of him.

“Hey,” his plump lips were shining with your release, his cheeks a bright pink.

You leaned to capture his lips. A moan was muffled by his mouth as you tasted yourself in his tongue. The kiss didn’t last though. Both of you were in some serious need of air to make it last.

“I bet the neighbors know my name,” he beamed with the cockiest smirk.

“Oh, shut up,” with a roll of eyes, you started to plant open-mouthed kisses down his throat.

“You know they do. Especially after tonight. The way you-“ he stopped as you sucked at a sensitive spot on the side of his neck. “Shit, Y/N. Need to be inside you.”

He flipped you onto your back, laying on top of you. His lips attacked yours in a hungry, bruising kiss. Your hand reached for his cock, positioning it at your entrance.

“No, not like this. I have other things in mind,” he said with a crooked grin. “On all fours, sweetheart.”

Dean pulled away and you did as told. Your ass perked up and his warm hands gripped your hips. He squeezed your skin and you groaned in anticipation. The tip of his cock circled your entrance.

“Please,” a sweet little cry escaped your lips.

You whimpered as he pushed inside you ever so slow. His massive size stretching your walls to fit him. Dean groaned. He slid out almost completely before thrusting into you with such force that you gasped.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he grunted. “You feel so good. So tight.”

His blunt fingernails digging into the flesh of your hips as he pounded into you relentlessly. Sweat broke through your body as your breath started to come in short spurts. His hand collided with your right cheek, causing your body to jerk. Then he did the same to the other one and you hissed. Dean leaned against you, kissing your shoulder blade.

“You like this, don’t you?” His voice barely upon a whisper, hot breath fanning at your clammy skin. “You like it when I take you just… like… this?” His thrusts matched his words, sending you over the edge once again.

“Yes!”

His hand smacked harder at your right cheek as he pulled away. That definitely was going to leave a mark. Your skin tingling at the stingy sensation. He slammed in and out of you like a madman. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room along with shameless cries and husky grunts. The heat in your core started to grow even more. You fell forward into the mattress, fingers curling the sheets. Your walls pulsated around him as your orgasm hit you abruptly. Dean sent another five deep-seated thrusts and had you screaming into the pillow in pure ecstasy.

You were so lost in the feeling that you didn’t notice Dean flipping you into your back. He leaned down nuzzling into your neck, before sliding back into you. He kept driving in and out of you, his breath erratic. Your hands slapped against his back, nails digging into his skin, heels digging into his ass. You needed as much of him as you could get.

“Come with me, sweetheart,” he nearly pleaded as he pulled away from your neck.

His hips pistoned against yours, sloppy thrusts aiming for the final push. The thumps of the headboard  banging against the wall mixed with the sound of his balls slapping against your ass. Dean delivered three deep thrusts before his body stiffened. He held himself there as he painted your walls white with his seed. Your orgasm rippled through you. You clenched around him so tight, milking his cock for all its worth. His green orbs locked in your lust blown eyes as his lips parted in a perfect “o” shape, mirroring your expression, though no sound came from any of you. Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes as pleasure washed through you.

Dean collapsed on top of you, his head nuzzling in the curve of your neck. He placed a kiss to your skin before rolling to his side. Both of you waited for your breaths to even. Only then, when the room had grown quiet, you noticed the orange glow in the room caused by the strays of sunshine that managed to get past the blinds.

“Hot damn,” he let out a content sigh.

“What we did tonight… it should be illegal,” you half-chuckled.

“I know, sweetheart. I know,” he had a stupid grin on his face the whole time.

“Don’t sweetheart me,” you pouted. “I’m still mad at you.”

“Really? C’mon! I thought I had made myself up to you by making you come three times. Wasn’t that enough?”

“Of course not! You cockblocked me. Who knows how many times I would’ve cum if I was with that guy,” you shrugged.

“None. Plus, he doesn’t love you so it wouldn’t be nearly as exciting as this was.”

“You still need to make yourself up to me. ’Sides, you didn’t even tie the record, Dean. I’ve made myself come more times using just my fingers and a couple of toys.”

“Is that a challenge, sweetheart?”

“Only if you wanted it to be,” you smirked.

Dean rolled over you, his hand making its way to cup your mound. “I bet you still have my cum dripping from this tight pussy.”

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

I’d love to know what you think of this one! Please, consider sharing your thoughts with me via reply, reblog or ask!

Dean Sweethearts:

@maya-craziness @akshi8278 @spookytaylors​ @thisismysecrethappyplace @witch-of-letters

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Sounds of Someday

Dean Winchester x Reader

Words: 3108

Summary: A fight leaves a rift in your heart and a split in Dean’s soul. Going your separate ways, you find that every road leads back to each other. 

Notes: Eeeee, I loved writing this one so much guys! I’ve been wanting to write a Dean imagine based on a Radio Company song and I just had to do this one. I also incorporated the song “Who’s Cryin Now” by Journey because I felt it fit the plot. 

Warnings: This one is a little steamier than other imagines I’ve written, but only for like, two seconds. I’m a tease.

Special shout out to my amazing beta reader Sarah, @suckmysupernatural​ . I love her so much and honestly, she’s helped me so much in getting these imagines out for you and she has some absolutely killer writing of her own!

Want more Supernatural? Find it HERE

-

All gone is here today

Finding room to breathe

“I’m done.” Those two words ripped through you as they left your lips. The anger on Dean’s face changed into remorse. 

“What?” 

“I can’t live like this anymore, Dean.” Your voice was hoarse from screaming at each other. This wasn’t the first fight you had had. But they’d never gotten this bad. 

“So what, you’re just going to pack up and leave?” He crossed his arms. He may have started this fight, but he hadn’t anticipated it to go this far. 

“Dean…” You ran a hand down your face in aggravation. “I can’t keep staying here, waiting for you to start the next apocalypse and then die trying to stop it.” The comment stung, but Dean wouldn’t show it. He set his jaw in a hard stare. 

“Fine.” That was it. That’s all he said to you. 

He stayed in the library while you went back to your shared room. You didn’t pay any attention to the clothes you grabbed, you just stuffed them into a duffel. The faster you got out of that bunker, the sooner you could stop fighting the tears that were burning your eyes. Dean hadn’t moved a muscle when you stormed back through. He wouldn't even look at you. 

“I-” You started, but you stopped yourself. It didn’t matter. You got up the stairs before he finally spoke.

“This is on you.” He said in a steady, seething voice. You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. 

“No, Dean. It’s not.” 

The sound of the door closing echoed through the bunker and in his head. Dean kept his eyes trained on the ground even when Sam entered the room. 

“Where’s she going?” His brother didn’t answer. “Dean, where is Y/N going?” 

Dean just stared up at the closed door as if he were waiting for you to come back in. The silence weighed heavily on his chest, crushing the air out of him. He’d pushed too far this time. You weren’t coming back.

-

As soon as the bunker was in your rearview mirror, you broke down. This wasn’t just a break up. You had just left the only family you had. Your heart was screaming at you to turn around and forgive him. To let him hold you and kiss you until you forgot what you were fighting about. But it wouldn’t work. Not this time. 

Dean’s words still rang through your head. 

“Maybe you just aren’t cut out for this.” He had spat. “You can’t bear the idea of losing us because you wouldn’t last a day on your own.” 

In your relationship, Dean had always helped you find your strength, but in that moment, he made you feel weak. Useless. You couldn’t stay. 

You turned on the radio to drown out your thoughts. 

Dean did the same as he laid in his bed back in the bunker. It felt… strange without you in it. He thought of your hurt and angry response. 

“Yes, Dean. I am terrified of losing you. Every time you go out that door, I pray that whatever it is your facing won’t take you away. But you leave without a second thought. You go out, guns blazing and ready to die.  It’s like you don’t care if you come back to me.” 

He pressed the button aggressively and listened to Journey fill his room. 

“One love feeds the fire. One heart burns desire. I wonder who’s crying now?”

You were half tempted to turn it back off. It was too fitting. The words made your heart ache.

“Two hearts, born to run. Who’ll be the lonely one? I wonder who’s crying now?” 

Dean covered his face with his hands. Hearing your tearful voice was like listening to your heart break. And it was his fault. 

Why couldn’t he just accept that someone cared about him? He had been pushing and pushing you away for months now and it finally got to be too much. You’d given up on him just like he’d given up on himself a long time ago. 

You found a motel to crash at and plan for the days to come. You needed a case and you needed one fast. You pulled up news sites from surrounding areas and checked for anything strange. 

Dean needed a case. It was the only thing that would get his mind off you. He enlisted Sam to help him with the search, though his younger brother kept badgering him with questions. 

“Where is she going?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is she coming back?”

“Don’t count on it.”

“What happened?”

“Just help me find a damn case!” Dean yelled. Sam stared at him and leaned back in the chair. He wasn’t surprised by his brother’s outburst, but he wasn’t backing down. Y/N wouldn’t just pick up and leave. He raised a brow, waiting for an explanation. Dean sighed. “She’s done, Sam.”

“What do you mean, ‘She’s done’?”

“I mean, she said she’s done. She said she can’t live like this anymore.” Dean ran a hand down his face and took a swig of his third beer. “She’s not coming back.” 

“Dean, I’m sure if you just call-”

“No.” Dean gave him a silencing stare. “Sam, just stay out of this, okay? She’s a big girl and can make her own damn decisions. This isn’t the first time a woman walked out angrily and it certainly won’t be the last. I’ll live.” But you weren’t just any woman. You weren’t a one-night-stand. He loved you. Which meant he would just have to try harder to forget you. 

-

Go on beyond your way

And see

Yellowstone National Park. You used to visit this place all the time when you were a kid. Your parents were park rangers here until they walked into the woods one day and never came back. You never did find out what happened to them. After they disappeared, you were taken in by your aunt, who spent her days hunting down monsters, trying to find the one that killed her sister and brother-in-law. You watched the job destroy her. 

You wouldn’t watch it destroy the man you loved. 

You had found some reports of campers going missing over the years. Not the usual bear attack either, though that’s what local authorities assumed. You had a particular creature in mind; wendigo. 

Dean threw his duffle onto the cabin bed and surveyed his lodgings. He had told Sam to sit this one out. He needed to clear his head, but he told his skeptical brother that he would call if he thought he couldn’t handle it. From the research he’d dug up, it looked like a possible wendigo. It had been years since he fought one of these bastards, so he would have to stay sharp. 

Dean figured that a fed would stand out too much in this environment, so he posed as a researcher looking into bear attacks. The ranger just gave him a smile.

“You must be that nice woman’s partner! She was looking into the same string of attacks you are.” He shook his head grimly. “A damn shame. If people just left the animals alone, we wouldn’t have such a problem with these attacks.” He rambled on for a moment before Dean cut him off. 

“Young woman?” The ranger’s brows furrowed. 

“Yeah, she was in here just a second ago. Wanted to know about those campers. Tough-looking, but man, she was a pretty one.” With a glare from Dean, the ranger corrected himself. “Didn’t know she was here with anybody.” Dean rolled his eyes. 

“Do you know where she was headed?” 

After you checked in with the main desk, you found your cabin. The mountains around you gave you a bittersweet nostalgia. You used to love it here. You sighed and stuck the key in the lock, freezing when you looked at the cabin next door. The slick-black exterior shined in the sunset. Son of a-

“Of all of the gin joints...” A voice mused behind you. 

You quickly unlocked your door and went inside. Dean caught the door before you could slam it on him. His expression was grave and his eyes still held the hurt that they had just two days ago. 

“This is my case, Dean. You can go.” You looked anywhere else in the room but him. You could brave leaving him once, but you didn’t know if your heart would let you do it again. 

“I found this case fair and square, so I’m not going anywhere sweetheart.” He said gruffly. You put your hands on your hips and he crossed his arms over his chest. Unless one of you said something, you could be in this stand-off for God knows how long. 

“I don’t have time for this, I have a wendigo to fry.” You started to pack your backpack, but Dean still didn’t move. 

“We have a wendigo to fry.” 

“No.” You shook your head. “No we. Just me.” You stuffed the last of your flare guns in your bag. 

“You’re not seriously going to take this on by yourself.” Dean scoffed. You narrowed your eyes. 

“Oh, and you are?”

“I hate to break it to you, Y/N, but wendigo’s are nasty sons-of-bitches. They’re big and they’re fast and would snap you in half before you could even light a match.” 

“Right, and a big macho man like you would be totally safe.”

“I’d have a better chance of fighting it off, that’s for sure.”

“Look here, Winchester.” You stalked towards him, jabbing a finger at his chest. “I know this area better than you, I’m a better tracker than you, and I can fight just as well as you can.” 

“This is different.”

“It’s really not.” 

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I want you to stop underestimating me.” 

“I should just lock you in here and throw away the key!”

“And I should give you a black eye!”

“When are we leaving?”

“Nightfall!”

“Fine!” 

“Fine!”

You dropped your bag on the floor as Dean’s lips collided with yours. His arms lifted your legs up and you wrapped them around his waist. This kiss was fervent and intense. Your back was pressed against the door and Dean helped you shed your jacket and you undid his belt. Your lips moved down to his neck, leaning forward to encourage him towards the bed. 

You slammed down onto the mattress, his green eyes looming over you and making your head spin. You started to lift his shirt over his head, but he paused. 

“Wait wait wait,” His brows furrowed together in a way that could only be described as extremely hot frustration, “is this break-up sex or make-up sex?” You used your legs to roll him to the side that you were straddling his waist. 

“Let me get back to you on that.” 

-

Even the fires on the road

Trying to get away

You hadn’t really said anything since you started hiking. It was just after twilight and stars were starting to dot the sky. You were focused on listening to the nature around you, hand prepped on your can of bear-spray. Just because a bear hadn’t killed those campers didn’t mean one wouldn’t kill you. 

Dean had a very uneasy feeling. Every snap set his nerves even more on edge. A wolf howled in the distance and he grabbed your arm, eyes wide. He definitely was not in his element out here. You just chuckled and shook your head. 

“And you said I couldn’t handle it.” He just gave you a cocky smirk. 

“Hey sweetheart, you’re legs sore from hiking yet?” He raised a brow and your cheeks flushed. 

“You’re a pig, Dean.” You scoffed, quickly turning around. It was his turn to chuckle. A silence fell between you as you continued to listen to the sounds of the night. A seriousness came to Dean’s expression. 

“Look, Y/N, about what I said back at the bunker-”

“I don’t think we should talk about that now.” You interrupted. Your head was fuzzy enough from the last couple hours in bed with him. Revisiting the break-up wouldn’t help anything. But Dean grabbed your hand, forcing you to stop. 

“I know that you can handle yourself. And I know that you’re afraid of me getting hurt and leaving you. But that’s not going to happen, baby.” He brought your hand to his chest so you could feel his heartbeat. 

“You don’t know that.” You looked at the forest floor. “Dean, how many times have you walked out ready to sacrifice yourself to save the world, or Sam, or me?” He didn’t answer. “I can’t live like that. I’ve watched too many people I love destroy themselves. I won’t watch it happen to you.” 

Before he could respond, a voice cried out in the woods. 

“Y/N! Help us!” Your eyes went wide. 

“Mom?” You gasped. 

“Baby, come find us!” 

“Dad?” Dean grabbed your shoulders. 

“Y/N, those aren’t your parents.” He said, trying to get you to focus on him rather than the phantom voices. “Your parents are gone.”

“Y/N!” 

“Mom!” You screamed. You broke away from Dean and took off into the trees. 

“Damn it, Y/N. Don’t!” Dean yelled after you. He tore through the foliage, but it was too late. You were gone. 

-

And all the stars seem on a roll

Out of control today

You groaned, your head feeling like a bowling pin. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” You muttered angrily. How could you have fallen for a trick like that? Wendigos could mimic human voices. But how did it know what your parents sounded like? 

That’s when it clicked. Their disappearance in the woods, the destroyed camp site, the wendigo’s memory of them. This was the bastard that killed them. 

You were tied to a root or something in the ceiling of the cave. It was dark, but as your eyes adjusted, you could see the faint outline of other people across from you.

“Hello?” 

You were greeted with a quiet whimper and a little movement from the smaller form. The other body remained still. 

“Who’s there? Did that thing get you too?” It was a woman. You wracked your brain to remember the report

“Yeah,” You sighed, “Yeah it got me. But I have a friend out there. He’ll find us.”

“It’ll come back.” She cried. “It already… it killed Steven.” She was on the brink of hysterics, so you did your best to calm her down. 

“Jessie, right?” You said softly. You could just see her nod. “Jessie, it’s going to be okay. Dean is going to get us out of here and then we’re going to kill this thing.” How Dean was going to find you… you tried not to think about. 

A figure materialized from the dark. At first, you hoped it was Dean, but it was too big. It’s limbs were too lanky. 

“Oh my god, it’s back.” Jessie cried. You assessed the situation and spotted your bag just behind Steven’s hanging form. 

“Jessie, I need you to get a hold of that bag.” 

“I can’t! I can’t!” She bawled. You gave her a hard stare. 

“If you want to get out of here, you have to try.” You ordered. Seeing her movement, the creature picked her as its next target. She started to scream. Here goes nothing. “Hey!” You shouted at the monster. “Come and get me you freaky bastard! I taste good!” 

Thankfully, the beast took the bait. You started swinging back and forth, hoping that the root holding you would break, or at least wear down the ropes that bound your wrists. The wendigo clawed your arm, making you cry out as blood spurted from your bicep. 

“Hey!” Another voice added to the chaos and a flash of red zoomed by your face, nearly singeing your hair. Distracted by the newcomer, the wendigo turned away. Luckily, the creature had also scratched the ropes and with a few more jolts, your bindings snapped. You rolled towards your bag, ignoring the flood of pain that shot up from your arm. Jessie had been able to move it closer so in a few quick motions, you grabbed a flare gun and shot it into the monster’s stomach. The glare was bright enough that you needed to shield your eyes. 

Once the creature was fully cooked, you could finally see Dean. He moved towards you, but you motioned to Jessie. 

“Get her first.” He cut the frightened woman down and she threw her arms around him. 

“It’s alright, you’re safe now.” He tried to keep her line of sight away from her shredded boyfriend. You couldn’t help but watch him with admiration. The way he cared so much… it was what made you fall for him. He looked at you. “I’m going to take her out of here.” His expression was reluctant. He couldn’t stand the thought of leaving you here. 

“I’ll be fine, Dean. Go.” 

He swiftly ushered the woman out of the cave and you dug through your pack for bandages. Dean gave Jessie a can of bear spray and told her to wait while he went back for you. When he found you, you were leaning over a pile of old human bones. 

“At least now I know what happened.” You held up a small gold chain that you had found on one of the skeletons, buried beneath years of other victims. It was your mother’s. Dean knelt beside you and you took a shaking breath. “You were right, you know. Maybe I can’t handle this. I mean, I rushed into that forest with even a little hesitation. And I know what those bastards can do. I just didn’t care. I heard their voices and I just ran.” A tear fell down your cheek and you quickly brushed it away. 

“Y/N, you nearly got your arm clawed off and you still killed that thing.” Dean exclaimed, helping to wrap your injury tighter. “You are a great hunter. I just said that stuff because… I’m just as afraid of losing you as you are losing me. When that thing took you, I lost my damn mind.” 

You leaned your head against his chest and let him wrap his arms around you. You clutched the chain in your hand. Someday, all of this would make sense. How you found each other, how you continued to be pulled together even when you had given up, how you were willing to risk everything to stay together. Until then, you would enjoy the view. 

And though, the Sounds of Someday

May

Be 

Home

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado​

Supernatural: @desimarie12; @deandreamernp; @vicmc624; @halesandy; @livshaes; @d-whinchestergirl87; @mrspeacem1nusone

[a-winchester-fairytale]

Forgive Me

Summary: Sometimes the memories you make are worth the risks you take

Word Count: 2005

Warnings: lots angst in this one, mention of fears, anxiety, and broken hearts

A/N:  I am participating in @supernatural-jackles​ Bi_Weekly writing challenge and this is my first submission.  (Thank you for a fun challenge)  I ended up using 6 of the prompts and they are all bold in the fic below.  

Please feel free to let me know what you think.  I love the feedback. <3

You stood frozen, staring at the huge door and trying to force yourself to reach up and knock.  It had been two months since you stepped across that threshold, leaving your home and the only man you had ever loved behind.

“You can do this, Y/N.” You told yourself under your breath. You closed your eyes, squeezing them tight, and wrapped your knuckles on the door before you could change your mind. As soon as you did, you felt a knot in your stomach and you planted your feet sternly to keep from running away.  

Dean flung open the door, surprised to see you standing on the other side.  You watched as the muscles in his face twitched, his eyes scanning you to be sure he wasn’t seeing things before they rested intensely on your face.  He crossed his arms smugly and leaned a shoulder against the door frame.

“What are you doing here?” He asked without revealing anything in his tone.  

You’re eyes immediately fell to the ground in front of you and you took a deep shaky breath.  “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me, but I wanted to see you.”  You replied softly, glancing back up at him.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“But Dean….”  You began, hating yourself for sounding like you were begging.  That wasn’t why you had come.  Dean scoffed.

“No, Y/N.  You made it perfectly clear what you wanted when you walked out.”  He snapped. You caught movement over his shoulder, taking your attention away from his glare for a moment.  Dean glanced behind him when your eyes darted in that direction.

“Is everything okay?” A velvet voice asked.  You watched in stunned silence as a beautiful girl walked up to his side with concern on her face.

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’ll catch up with you later, okay?” He replied, gently.  She let her fingertips rest on his arm for an instant and gave you a tight lipped smile as she stepped past you and walked away to her car.

“Is that your girlfriend?” You asked, watching her get inside and drive off.

“I don’t owe you an explanation.”  

“You’re right.  You don’t.”  You admitted with a sigh.  “But, Dean, are you going to hate me forever?”  You pressed.  

Dean just shrugged his shoulders, but you could see his anger crack, revealing a sadness in his eyes. He must have realized it because he rolled his eyes and his tongue darted across his lips instead of answering you.  

“Guess I can’t hate you for telling the truth.  Loving me is a death sentence.”  He finally mumbled, his arms unfolding as he did.  He shoved his hands in his pockets.

“I didn’t mean that.” You told him, the words coming out in a whisper. Hearing those words thrown back at you felt like a dagger in your heart and you felt a panic as your vision blurred with tears.  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come.”  

You turned to leave, wanting to run before he saw your tears.  A solitary sob broke free from your throat as you dropped your purse and you scrambled to pick it up.  

“Wait….”  Dean said.  You looked up at him to see him flinch, his own inability to let you leave frustrating him.  He closed his eyes for a moment and then reached out his hand to help you back up off the ground.  “You don’t have to go.  Come on inside, if you want.”

You couldn’t hide the surprise on your face, feeling like you hadn’t heard him correctly.  He grinned slightly and his thumb brushed a tear from your cheek.  “Come on.” He added, stepping to the side. With his free hand, he gesturing to the door and followed as you timidly went inside.

Everything looked exactly the same, and for a moment you almost forgot that it wasn’t your home anymore. When the realization hit you again, you quickly shook it out of your mind to keep from crying again.

Your eyes followed Dean as he walked confidently past you and headed to the bar.  He filled a glass that already had a small amount of whiskey in it.  He offered you one, but you just shook your head and he shrugged.  He took the glass in one hand, the bottom sliding along the counter as he dragged it with him.  He walked back around and sat down at the table.

“Don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but what exactly did you think was going to happen when you knocked on that door?”  He asked you.

You looked up at the ceiling, almost laughing at how much you had missed his bluntness.  His eyebrow raised, and you just shook your head to brush the thought away.

“Honestly?”  You began, slowly walking over to the table and sliding down across from him.  “I don’t know what I expected.  I just wanted a chance to tell you that I am sorry for everything that happened and to tell you that I missed you.”

“Missed me?”  He huffed.

“Of course.  Dean, you were my best friend.  Then, you became so much more than that.”  You insisted.  Dean took a drink from the glass in his hand and set it down on the table next to him as he slid forward.

“Then why?  Just tell me the truth, Y/N.  I loved you, really loved you, and I thought you…I thought you felt the same way about me.   I mean, it’s like one day you just stopped and I still have no idea why.”

“I didn’t stop.  I got scared and stupid.”  You admitted.  “When I was lost all those years ago, you found me and you convinced me that everything would be okay.  You made me feel like there wasn’t anything in the world I couldn’t do as long as you were right there beside me.”

“I didn’t really just find you.”  The tiniest sliver of a smile returned to his face, but only for a moment.  “We found each other.  That’s all that matters - at least it was to me.”  He added, the smile disappearing along with his last words.

“It was for me too.” You admitted, letting your thoughts linger for a moment.  

Dean took another drink and looked away.  “This isn’t making a whole lot of sense.”  He told you, rolling his eyes.  You stood up and turned away from him then, pressing the palm of your right hand with the thumb of your left.  

“I could see the road ahead and the way you always sacrifice yourself.  It’s noble and heroic and makes it so easy to fall in love with you, but when it’s over…..”  You let your words fall away.

Even now, standing in the same room and knowing he was alive, you were still unable to think about the worst without feeling like you were suffocating.  You took a deep breath, running your teeth along your bottom lip.  Dean just watched you, thinking back to the night you walked out and seeing it in a different light.

“I was afraid that no matter how hard we tried we wouldn’t be able to find a way to stop what was coming – and I just couldn’t watch you die.” You finally found the words to continue.  “I could feel myself pulling away the closer we got to the end and wanting to cling so tightly to you at the same time.  I thought I was doing the right thing, that somehow if I didn’t know how it all turned out I could just trick myself into believing that you were safe and happy.”

“And when I tried to stop you from leaving, you said the one thing…”

“…that I knew would make it impossible to change my mind.”  You interrupted as you turned to face him once more, confirming he was right.  

Dean let out a deep sigh, slowly lifting the glass to his lips again.  He let it sit there for a moment, closing his eyes as your words sank in. Finally he let the last of the liquid slide past his lips, swallowing his pride along with the whiskey.  You watched in silence as he set the glass down again.

“I wish you would have just told me how you felt.”  He practically whispered, shaking his head.  He had never gotten used to the idea of having someone care for him the way he cared for others.

“You were meant to save the world.  I’ve always believed that and I didn’t want to change you.  I just didn’t think I was strong enough to live in a world without you in it.  Besides, would it have made a difference?”  You asked, laughing a little.  Dean chuckled along with you.

“I don’t know.”  He admitted.  He chewed on his lower lip, his green eyes watching cautiously as you walked around the table and knelt down in front of him.  You reached out and took his hands in yours.

“I know it’s too late, Dean. I just needed you to know that whatever happens, I’m sorry I made you feel like I stopped loving you.  I couldn’t – not ever.”  You promised.

“What if it’s not too late?” He asked.  You could hear the hope in his voice mirroring the hope you felt in your heart.

“But, what about your girlfriend?”  You asked, glancing at the front door as though she was still standing there.  He laughed, which only confused you more.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” He replied.  “She is just an old friend of Sam’s.  He ran into her on a case a few days ago.  She came by looking for him and to drop off some books that he let her use for research.”

“So, are you saying you could forgive me?”  You pressed. Dean smiled, his green eyes staring lovingly at you.  He reached up and brushed back a strand of your hair as he nodded.

“Come here.”  He said, standing and pulling you up with him.  He wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tightly against him.  

You hugged him back, your fingers barely tangled in the soft strands of hair.  You inhaled, enjoying the smell that was so uniquely Dean it made you feel like home.

“I can’t promise you that I’ll live forever.”  His words mumbled as he buried his face in your hair.  “But I will do everything I can to make sure I don’t leave you.”

“I can’t promise you that I won’t worry about you, but I realized that I don’t want you to be anyone different for me.  This is what you and Sam do.  It’s who you are and I will never walk out on you like that again.”  You told him.  

Staying away from Dean had been the hardest thing you had ever tried to do.  As much as you didn’t want to pull yourself from Dean’s embrace, you leaned back so you could look him in the eye as you continued.  

“No matter what happens, I want to spend every moment of this life with you.  I want to know that if the world turns against us, and one of us doesn’t make it home, that we have all our memories to hold onto.  I want to us to say good-bye knowing that we lived a life where we were happy and loved – no matter what, because we deserve that.”

“I still love you so much, Y/N.  I want to spend the rest of my life showing you that you mean the world to me…that is, if you think I won’t scare you away again by doing it.”  He added with a mischievous smirk.

“I dare you to try.” You teased, slipping back into a familiar rhythm with him.

“Oh yeah?”  He chuckled as you smiled up at him and nodded enthusiastically.  Dean leaned his forehead against yours, his smile lingering on his face.  “I dare you to kiss me.”  He said, returning the challenge.

And you did.

**Thank you to @talesmaniac89​ for the beautiful divider**   

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[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

Night at the Museum | Adam Milligan x Reader

Prompt: Family

Fandom: Supernatural

Words: 2230

A/N: Wasn’t feeling well for a few days (still don’t but oh well), so here’s yesterday’s story prompt. This is a continuation of [True Winchester Fashion]. I’ll have today’s prompt up later.

-

The cases were getting more confusing with each passing day. One incident looked clearly to be the work of a vampire, the next is a witch, and another a werewolf. All in one town in the span of two weeks. Sam and Dean gathered in Adam’s apartment, their things scattered on the medium sized Ikea dining table.

Adam had been checking up on you every now and again, and you appreciated it, which was why he was the first person you thought of when something bad happened again. You had been working in the museum after hours when you heard noises coming from one of the exhibits under construction.

“Larry?” you called out to one of the security guards in the walkie talkie.

“Everything alright, (Y/n/n)?” Larry asked.

“Yeah, just thought I heard something from the west wing.”

“I’ll check with surveillance and have someone stick with you until you go home if you want.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“No problem.”

You went back to finish sorting through the bookstacks, a small hand radio softly playing nineties music on one of the desks.Twenty minutes later, you were finished with one large stack and deciding to call it a night. You checked your phone and realized how late it got. Looking sound, you had assumed that one of the security guards were guarding the library entrance, but no one was there.

“Larry?” you said through the walkie talkie. You waited, hearing nothing but static. “Larry? Bill?”

You grabbed your things, stuffing a thick and old leather bound book in your bag, and clutched the walkie talkie close to you as you closed up. With every sound or movement you thought you saw in the corner of your eye, you would try to contact the security guards again.

Whenever you had seen these types of situations on screen, you always thought of how foolish that person was for being in a building after hours, alone at night. But, you had always felt safe in the museum. The staff was friendly and the security guards were caring and protective. The fact that none of them were answering was worrying. You thought back to the night that your friend died, your heart racing in your chest as you try to make one last call out before leaving.

“Larry?” you tried again as you made your way towards the exits.

You waited. Static. Then tried again. There was an echo of your voice from a walkie talkie nearby. You turned, but saw no one. You squeezed the walkie talkie, pressing the button one more time without saying anything. You heard the noise again, looking around the dimly lit room and spotted the walkie talkie lying on the ground next to a pool of dark liquid.

You forgot to breathe as you rushed out of the building, your back feeling vulnerable as you jogged to your car. Your hands shook as you tried to unlock the doors and climbed in, locking them again as soon as you sat down, then started the engines.

This was a small town, so you had always tried to stay out of trouble or else the entire town would know about it. Meaning, not once had you gone above the speed limit, in fear that your parents’ friend and classmate gave you a ticket and then they would never stop bringing up the one ticket you ever had and how you disappointed them. This time, however, a ticket and frustrations was not as scary as the possibility of getting murdered.

Once you were locked away in your apartment, you sat in your bathtub and called Adam.

“Hey, everything alright?” he asked.

You let out a long breath, wanting to steady your heartbeat. “I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know why this is happening,” you whimpered, “I didn’t know what to do, I just… i needed to talk to someone to calm down.”

“Okay, we can do that. Do you wanna talk about what happened?”

A hot tear rolled down your cheek as you tried to make sense of the past events. “I think… I think something happened to the security guards at the museum. I panicked. I didn’t get a good look, but I just wanted to get out of there as soon as I could. Am I being silly?”

“No, of course not,” Adam assured you, “Listen, I’m in contact with those feds that came by that night at the bar. I’ll go speak to them and see that they can look into it, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Adam. I’m sorry for bothering you-”

“You’re not bothering me. I want you to be safe.”

“Okay,” you said softly. “I, uh, I’m gonna call a coworker and see if she can notify the police of what happened. Can you… can you come over?”

“Yeah, sure. Just text me your address.”

Adam hung up, clenching his jaw as he pictured you at home, too afraid to even go outside after what’s been going on around town. You didn’t deserve to deal with all of this. Whoever or whatever is killing people will have to face the Winchesters for what they’ve done. 

He walked out to the living room and slumped down in a chair next to his brothers. Sam noticed his tired expression, wordlessly passing a can of beer to him. Adam nodded in thanks, popping it open and taking a swig.

“What’s up?” Dean said, looking up from his laptop screen.

“Something’s going on at the museum and I want to go and check it out,” Adam said.

“What, like a Night at the Museum thing or like a new contemporary modern art exhibit with canvases that just have random splashes of paint worth thousands of dollars kind of thing?”

Adam frowned, thinking back to cases in the past few weeks and how they were connected. You were always nearby when they happened. He stood up and grabbed his jacket and car keys.

“I don’t know. The police are heading over there right now. I’m gonna go and check on (Y/n).”

“Right. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Dean teased.

“So do everything except eating healthy?”

Adam shut the door behind him before Dean could retort. The oldest brother shook his head. 

“What an asshole. Where the hell does he get it from?”

Sam gave him a pointed look, then turned his attention back to his research as he cleared his throat.

-

Sam and Dean had arrived at the museum, flashing their badges and speaking with the sheriff. They had found one surviving security guard who was knocked unconscious while the rest who were on duty had been killed.

“Anyone else was here during that time?” Dean asked the museum’s director.

She shrugged. “Usually some curators, conservators, and one or two archivists. Everyone’s been working hard to get the new exhibit up and running, which is why we usually have more than one security guard on duty.”

“Exhibit?”

The director’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yes. We’re doing something fun this year and diving into myths, legends, and magic. These stories have contributed to our history and we’ve wanted to do something different. We even had a few donors who’ve had records and items from the Salem witch trials-”

Sam and Dean exchanged a knowing look. “When did these donors come in?” Sam asked.

She tapped her chin and hummed. “About two weeks ago? Oh, dear. You don’t think someone would kill for these items, do you?”

Sam offered her a reassuring smile. “We’ll figure out who did this. In the meantime, I suggest postponing the exhibit.”

“Of course, of course.”

“Mind if we check the exhibit? You know, just to make sure nothing was stolen.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Follow me.”

The director led them to the back where they stored the items and displays, leaving them for a moment to retrieve the inventory list. Her heels echoed through the spacious warehouse until she reached the back. She frowned at the list, going back and forth between the opened crates.

“Oh, dear, there’s something missing,” she muttered, “Oh, I see. It must have been one of the historians or the archivists. Usually they’d make a note of it, though. They know not to leave the building with any of the items here.”

Dean asked for the list, which she readily handed over. She pointed at the missing item, a thick leather bound book with a metal lock on it. He flipped through the pages, looking for a picture of the book before handing it back.

“Are there cameras in the warehouse?”

-

Adam pulled up in front of your building, double checking the address and apartment number. He climbed out and immediately felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“Be careful,” Michael said to him, “There’s something here. Get to your friend quickly.”

“Why do you think they’re all after (Y/n)?” Adam asked, speed walking towards the steps.

Michael paused for a moment. “There must be something they’re not telling us.”

Adam knocked on your door and waited a beat. He could hear shuffling on the other side of the door followed by two locks clicking open. You poked your head through the door, opening it wider when you saw that it was Adam. He walked in, watching as you relocked the door and made your way towards the couch.

You slumped against the arm rest, burying your face in your hands. “This is all my fault,” you mumbled.

“What do you mean?” He slowly sat next to you, eyes scanning the room before looking back at you.

“I knew better than to take the book, but… I don’t know what I was thinking. It was almost like it was telling me to take it. Because of me, Rachel is dead. And so is Larry and Billy.” You rubbed your face hard, tears falling out before you could do anything about it.

“(Y/n)), start from the beginning. What book?”

You got up on shaky legs to retrieve your bag from your room. Reaching over to your desk, a bang from the window startled you. A shriek escaped your lips, heart threatening to follow after. Adam rushed over, wrapping a protective arm around you. He narrowed his eyes at the window but saw nothing. He led you back to the couch where you handed him your bag.

He unzipped the bag and pulled out a heavy leather bound book with a padlock holding it closed. In closer inspection, the leather material may not be leather at all, just that it was dyed and weathered to look like it. With one quick look, Adam could easily identify it as some kind of grimoire.

“Where did you get this?” Adam asked.

“The museum,” you said, wrapping your arms around your knees as you curled up again, “The director needed someone who spoke Latin to help translate some of the pages. The historian that usually does it is away, so that left me, though I can’t translate quite as well as the historian, the director insisted that I translate it as soon as possible… Now that I think about it, it seems all ridiculous. I don’t know why I listened.” You shook your head. “I guess I was too scared of losing my job, but I didn’t really realize until I translated the first few pages how dangerous it was.”

“What does it do?”

“I didn’t think that it was real! I just thought… I didn’t know…”

“(Y/n),” Adam said more gently.

You took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly. “It… apparently it has a spell that draws in all creatures within the vicinity, as if it was a beacon. It sounds crazy-”

“(Y/n), trust me. This is not crazy.” Adam inspected the book before putting it down on the coffee table. “Those feds that you met at the bar a couple of nights ago?”

You nodded.

“Well, they’re my brothers…. And they’re not feds. They…. My family comes from a line of hunters,” Adam began to explain.

“Hunters are quite different from brewery owners,” you muttered, trying to lift your mood up.

Adam chuckled. “Yeah, they hunt everything that goes bump in the night and then some. They’re the best at what they do and they’re looking into what’s been happening around town. They can help you with the book, (Y/n).”

You huffed out a laugh and shook your head at the situation you brought yourself into. “That’s great, but is there anything else that you failed to tell me?”

Adam looked down and smiled. “The, uh, the notes from micro lab? I didn’t need them. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

“Adam, if you’re lying to make me feel better about endangering the entire town-”

“I’m serious!”

There was another thud at the window closest to the living room. You jumped, your eyes immediately landing on that cursed book lying among your stained coasters, ripped envelopes and spare rubber bands. The cursed book that started all of this. It shook with each thud that hit the window, a tall dark shadowy figure standing on the other side of the curtained window. You covered your ears as Adam stood, quickly texting Sam and Dean to hurry over.

“Don’t worry, (Y/n). I won’t let anything happen to you.”

[sanktnikolais]

What Keeps You Up At Night

A/N: one last writing before I disappear for quite a long time. Or idk maybe i’ll be back again soon, but it’s burnt out season these days. No more will to write and live HAHAKLDHFS so have this mess of neighbors au, and i might still write more of this in this au, maybe not just too soon. ;-;

Happy Halloween, ig. 

Word count: 2151

AO3

The first time Zoya had finally talked properly with her noisy, infuriating neighbor without them arguing was in the middle of the night. 

          The endless readings for her upcoming case had taken a toll on her for the past few days, and the sleep she got was not enough to make her last the next day without verbally murdering someone in the firm. Tonight was no different, but she decided to go to bed earlier, as the noises from next door were starting to get louder again, and she was tired of going over and trying to knock his door down. They had been arguing off every little mistake they could pinpoint and use it against each other.

          When Zoya had moved in the apartment complex more two weeks ago, only the ones from across and by the end of the hall came to greet her, while the one next to hers was silent the whole time, and the rest of the day. 

          A firefighter, the other floor tenants had said, so he was gone most of the day. 

          She would've appreciated it at some point, if only if he didn't make so much noise at nights whenever he was back. It was during the third night that she finally had enough rage to stomp over the adjacent door and knock, only to end up with the firefighter arguing back that she, too, was too noisy every morning.

          Those arguments only got frequent for the two weeks, until they got a notice from the landlord to settle things down otherwise they’d get evicted. They had both ‘compromised’ with each other’s time schedule, but it really just involved them glaring at each other and arguing very quietly. Though their interactions had gone much calmer in the past few days, there was still no denying about the bad blood between them.

          Now Zoya was just about to retreat back to her bedroom when there was a loud scratching on her front door. It wasn't the type that one would suddenly hear but was gone after a moment. Instead it was continuous and hurried, as if someone or something was trying to get in. 

          She raised an eyebrow, eyeing the time on her phone. 1:03. What the hell could it be at this time of the night? 

          The scratching continued as Zoya slowly approached the front door, her heart starting to hammer in her chest. She wasn't the type to believe in the supernatural, but who's to say it was impossible? 

          She stopped in front of the door, and then the scratching stopped. Coldness seemed to wash over her, the suddenness of the feeling making her shiver. Whatever it was may have left already, most likely a stray rat or something. But the sound was too loud for something as small as a rat. What if it was—

          Zoya stopped her thoughts with a dark chuckle, feeling silly for even thinking about the impossible, though there was still no denying the slight fear in her chest. With a shake of her head, she took a deep breath and peeked through the peephole on her door. 

          There wasn't anyone outside. 

          She scoffed. Maybe the lack of sleep for the past week had made her imagination and hearing tacky. 

          "Being scared of mere sounds now, huh, Nazyalensky?" she mumbled to herself, stepping away from the door. 

          Only to stop when another sound came from the other side. A soft cry. 

          By this time, her fear was replaced by annoyance, and Zoya just turned the lights on, grabbed at the knob, and opened the door. 

          As expected, there wasn't any soul outside. Even the hall was dim and quiet—except for the occasional ones coming from the infuriating firefighter's slightly open door—when she turned to look in both directions, the small light by the end made it possible to see. Otherwise, the floor was empty. 

          She eyed the next door with a frown, shaking her head. Was he so confident to leave it open during this time of the night? 

          Then a thought came to her head. If she ever caught Lantsov trying to play a prank on her in the middle of the night, she would definitely not hesitate to strangle him on the spot. She shook her head, feeling annoyed with both herself and whatever it was that made the scratching sound. It surely wasted her time to check when she was supposed to be dozing off already. 

          She stepped back, ready to close the door, when she felt something brush past her ankle. 

          It was enough for a yelp to erupt from her mouth and jump, almost crashing over to her door. 

          Zoya quickly recovered and whirled around, expecting to see something scary, probably a ghost that had finally decided to become visible to her or anything supernatural that she's read and watched far too many times. 

          What she didn't expect was an adorable fluff of golden fur poised down on the floor as if it were trying to get her to play. 

          She gaped at the dog, turning back to the hall and expecting its owner to come over to get him. But no one came. 

          A soft whine made her turn back to the dog. It was now sitting up, head inclined to the side with a curious look on its face. If this was some other time, Zoya knew she would've melted on the sight. But now there was only confusion and bewilderment in her mind. 

          The dog couldn't be any older than several months. It was still a bit small to be an adult Retriever, but definitely not a puppy anymore. 

          She crouched down in level with it, and the dog immediately got up to run towards her. It only took a blink before it was jumping to her with an excited bark, and Zoya caught the dog mid-air. 

          The Retriever started attacking her with kisses, and the annoyance she was feeling just now disappeared completely. She laughed lightly when the dog's tail started to wag too vigorously as she stood up. 

          "Where did you come from?" Zoya asked, giving its head a ruffle. There was small ringings coming from the bell on its collar, and she turned the tag over. Sturmhond. "Storm dog, huh?" She leaned back to look at the golden fluff. It reached over to lick at her nose, causing a chuckle from her. "Who in the world would name you like that?"

          There was a squeak of a door being opened. "Sturmhond?" a deep voice echoed in the hallway, followed by rushed footsteps. "Sturm—" 

          Zoya turned around to Lantsov stop by her door, already in his black shirt that had a printed Ravka Fire Protection on the upper left. 

          The firefighter’s stare at her lingered for a second too long before he was blinking and averting his eyes from her and to the bundle of golden fur in her arms. "Sturmhond!" His hazel eyes that had a deep look of worry before suddenly lit up when they landed on the dog.

          The dog—Sturmhond—immediately squirmed off her arms and leaped over to him. 

          He caught him with a laugh. "Saints, there you are," he said in obvious relief. He gave the dog a ruffle on the head as Sturmhond bombarded his cheek with kisses. After a moment, he turned to her with a small wince. "I'm sorry about that, I only got him several days ago from the alley at the back and he's still trying to adjust—" He seemed to realize his own blabbing and he shook himself. “Yeah, I’m sorry for the disturbance.”

          Zoya raised an eyebrow. Did he just apologize to her? “I think this is the first time I heard you apologize, Lantsov," she said, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorway. “You ought to close your door if you don’t want him escaping your place.”

          The firefighter frowned. “It was closed, alright?”

         Zoya raised a brow at him. “Oh, really, now?” she said. “How come he got to my door?”

          “I don’t know,” he said, a tad bit too sharply, and he seemed to realize his tone. “Maybe I did leave the door open. My shifts have been longer these days, I really would tend to forget a lot."

          She fought a smile on her lips as she took in this whole new character of her neighbor. He was so far from the one that she had been arguing for the past two weeks. “Is this character development? You are awfully different today.”

          Lantsov only rolled his eyes as he adjusted the dog in his arms. “Nice to finally meet you,” he said sarcastically. Then he shook his head, a small smile on his lips. “Taking care of this one probably did the trick.”

          Zoya made a surprised huff. It was the first time they had talked without wanting to verbally murder one another, and it was a new thing to see. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. 

          “Anyway, my shift starts in about ten minutes and it won’t end until lunch I think,” he said with an amused smile, “at least I don’t have to endure your loudness at eight in the morning.”

          She erased her previous thought. Still the infuriating and idiotic neighbor. “For once, I thought you actually had some character development, Lantsov.”

          Nikolai laughed, and Zoya felt the strange ease in the air that was never there before. “Only for you, dear,” he said. “Well, then. I have to go—”

          He was cut off when Sturmhond suddenly jumped off from his arms and padded his way inside Zoya’s apartment, hiding behind her legs. She furrowed her eyebrows and looked down at the dog behind her. It seemed to have shrunk smaller as Sturmhond continued to hide. 

          “Sturmhond. Come on, buddy, I have to go,” he said gently, bracing his hands on his knees to crouch lower. He tried to call the dog once more, but Sturmhond didn’t budge. He sighed and stood up, checking his watch. “He’s still having issues with leaving. He thinks he’s going to get abandoned again.” Then he winced, closing his eyes as if he were in pain. “Can I, uh, ask for a favor?”

          She narrowed her eyes, a laugh bubbling out from her lips. The night was definitely going on a weird turn. “Nikolai Lantsov is asking a favor from me?”

          His wince only worsened. “I know, but it’s all because I forgot to call my friend that’s supposed to take Sturmhond tonight,” he said, rubbing at his face. He looked up after a moment, a defeated look on his face. “Can you watch over him?” 

          Zoya raised an eyebrow, and before she could reply, he quickly added, “I will pay for the dog sitting, don’t worry.” He looked past her and down to the dog hiding behind her. He had a worried crease between his brows, and for once, his usual smug expression was gone and replaced by a genuine emotion she never saw him have before. “He really looks like he doesn’t want to leave tonight.”

          Her frown got deeper as she contemplated the firefighter’s request. He hadn’t been the most likeable person on their floor, at least for her, and she had every right to say no. But what she couldn’t understand was her lack of resistance over the favor and the sudden urge to help him.

          She sighed. “Fine, I can watch over him,” she said even before she could think of changing her mind. Then with much more surety, she added, “I’m on a day off tomorrow, anyway.”

          His eyes lit up like a child being allowed to play outside. “Really?”

          “He seems behaved enough. And I’m sure he’s much quieter than you.”

          To her surprise, Nikolai laughed, and her stomach did a weird flip at that. “He definitely is quieter than me. And he sleeps a lot too, would pass out anywhere he lays down.”

          “My rate is not cheap, though.”

          “I don’t mind.” He chuckled, the expression in his eyes was soft when he said, “Thank you.”

          Zoya blinked, the direction of the night catching her completely off guard. It was only then that he looked much better with a smile on his face rather than the frown he always had every time they argue, and his eyes were definitely much warmer up close. 

          Lantsov was indeed quite a looker.

          She shook herself out of her thoughts, covering them up with a glare on the blond. “Don’t thank me yet, I am planning to use this favor against you.”

          Nikolai chuckled. “Of course, anything for you, Nazyalensky.”

          Oh, she still hated him for having a sudden effect on her. 

          She’ll charge him off big time for dog sitting.

---

But when he came to pick the dog up much later in the afternoon, Zoya hadn’t charged him off with anything. 

[leeholtwrites]

Magical Girl Reunion Tour - C6

Sarah 

Sometimes there seemed to never be enough space in her bag. Sarah hiked her bag back up on her shoulder as she climbed the steps to her small apartment. She wished she lived in a building with an elevator, but it was one of the many prices she paid for chasing her academic aspirations. At least her studio was large, if a bit strangely shaped. It had been remodeled before she moved in, and she quite enjoyed having her own small washer and dryer stacked by the fridge in its own alcove.

She unlocked her door. Once inside, she heaved her bag onto her bed and sighed in relief. Sarah had some time before office hours, so she'd thought she'd come home and eat while going over some of her dissertation work which was code for hunkering over left over take out while watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer for the fifth time with a notebook and a scowl. Sarah was beginning to think that doing a deep dive into the representation of women in late nineties and early two thousands genre television wasn't so good. What hadn't been talked about already? She tried to convince herself that her own magical experiences hadn't influenced her decision, but all she as doing was lying to herself.

The glass top of her stove clicked when she set a skillet on one of the burners. She turned it on and added some oil before opening the fridge to retrieve the box of left over sweet potato fries from the day before. She placed the box on the small square of counter and stared off to the other side of the room as she waited for the pan to heat. Looking over her possessions on the shelves framing the window on the other side of the room allowed her brain some time to focus as she catalogued her collection of books, shows, movies, and things. Academic tomes on feminism and film, sometimes both. The occasional fiction book. Seasons and seasons of shows, because she was one of those hardcopy people, most of them bent in a fantasy or science fiction direction. The worn copies of Veronica Mars always stood out.  Movies were a different story. She only had so much space, so many of her films crowded hard drives instead of her precious shelf space, but she did have a few precious ones. Amongst her media - usually shoved in front of it - were a couple of photo frames and the occasional Funko Pop, gifts from friends. The photos were of her family, and one was of her high school friends in between the magic crime fighting.

Next to that photo lay her wand. She had long ago wondered if hiding it would have been smarter. The truth, she discovered, is that everyone thought it was some prop from some obscure genre show, maybe an anime. It's bright blue diamond textured handle, and pale blue orb patterned in little gold arrow heads could only be found in blurry twenty year old newspaper photos, but no one really questioned it. If they did, she said she made it up.

She crossed her arms and pursed her lips. Now that she had time to think, things had felt a little off lately. For one, her friend and down the hall neighbor Michelle hadn't sent her one cat gif in the last two days, and that was unlike her. Normally, her program coder friend would bounce down the hall at random or throw open her door to wave at Sarah as she headed off to class. Michelle was also a graduate student, albeit way more perky and put together that Sarah herself felt. Michelle was life and loved her work. And that is why she was worried.

She knew she was home, Sarah could hear Michelle's taste in obscure bands blaring through her door, no doubt upsetting the rest of her neighbors. She looked down at the sad box of sweet potato fries. No, today she would see if Michelle wanted something to eat. Maybe get her out of her apartment.

In the bathroom, she brushed out her wavy dark hair - resisting the temptation to tie it back up in a messy bun - and cleaned her glasses. She arranged her bag for her afternoon schedule. Now a lot lighter, tossed it over her shoulder. With her hand on her door knob, she paused and turned back to her shelves. Something was telling her to grab her wand. It was probably her intuition. It had always been pretty solid. Slipping her wand into her bag, she marched down the hall to Michelle's apartment.

"Michelle?" she called as she knocked. "It's Sarah. Want to go for lunch?"

No answer.

"Michelle?"

"Go away!"

Her hand hovered over the door. What? That was so unlike Michelle. Normally it was her  yelling at Michelle to go away when she was struggling with some particularly hairy bit of theory. She hesitated, then knocked again. "Come on Michelle. Come eat. Then you can get back to whatever your doing."

The door flew open. Sarah recoiled from what she saw. Michelle stood framed by the door frame, gaunt and grey with dark circles around feral eyes. Her red hair was dirty and unkempt, and she still wore the clothes Sarah had last seen her in. Behind her, her massive computer set up glowed with an eerie light. Sarah narrowed her eyes. She knew what Michelle's computer set up looked like when she was working, and that wasn't it.

"Fuck off, Sarah," Michelle snarled. "All you do is get between me and my work with your… friendship."

Michelle tried to slam the door in Sarah's face, but she caught it. From Michelle's appearance, Sarah imagined she would be much weaker, but there was something supernaturally strong about her. A thought began to itch at the back of Sarah's brain. A thought she didn't like.

With a all her body weight, she shoved Michelle's door open. Michelle stumbled back into her studio apartment. It was the same size as Sarah's, so she practically stumbled into her desk chair, catching herself at the last moment on the edge of her desk.

"You're going to regret that," Michelle sneered.

"Look, you're sick," Sarah said placating, her hands up. "Did you find some strange magical device, uh, thing. It can look like anything. Maybe it was something that gave you a bad feeling, but you touched it anyway. It told you it would make you great. It would give you the skills you needed to achieve your dream. It knew your insecurities. It knew just what to say."

By Michelle’s hand, her mouse unfurled. It grew legs, six from by Sarah's guess and skittered up Michelle's arm. Michelle cried out in shock. Sarah rushed forward to pull it off her before it could reach the back of Michelle's neck. She grabbed her friend by the left shoulder and began to reach over her. With her unnatural strength, Michelle shoved her away. She tripped over the edge of a rug, smashing into the door frame, and spun around to land face down in the hall. Her bag had fallen off in the tumble, spilling its contents next to her. In the hall's dim lights, her wand glowed softly.

Michelle screamed. Sarah looked over her shoulder. The place where she had hit the door frame protested. She grit her teeth, ignoring it. She had to see.

The mouse had latched onto the back of Michelle’s neck and grown. Chitinous growths sprung from her neck and along her shoulders, slowly expanding down her arms and over her chest. It was the shiny black of the tech it had impersonated. Worry and dread ran through Sarah. Hitting someone covered in the stuff was like punching steel, and trying to hang onto her would be nearly impossible. The device would turn Michelle almost superhuman. There was only one answer.

She reached her hand out towards her wand, scooting forward, her hand outstretched. It flared the moment her fingers brushed it. Warmth flooded through her and a strange wash of joy. Sarah had long suspected that the wands might have their own feelings, but now was not the time to dwell on it. With the wand now firmly in her hand, she jumped to her feet, her wand in the air, and shouted, “Dress me in patience!”

Time slowed. Her arms stretched, one before her and one behind, as glittery golden light ran along them. In its wake soft, shiny gloves covered her once chipped nail polish. The light spread to her torso. She spun on her toes. The light revealed a vibrant blue short sleeved tunic, an enormous voluminous bow of soft blue at her throat. She kicked a leg up, drawn by the golden light. Bright blue, knee high boots and soft white leggings. Her arms over her head, she spun again, her loose hair drawn into an elegant braid, a gold band across her forehead. With a flash, she struck a pose. “I will not stop till this fight is through!”

Sarah tried to ignore how silly she felt. At least she had pants this time.

Michelle roared, if Sarah could even call her Michelle anymore. Her eyes were pure black and her skin had grown even whiter. The black growths had spread, giving her a tech-like armored look, all shiny black plates. “A Defender. How predictable.” She said, her voice layered with whatever magi-tech parasite the mouse had been.

Sarah held her wand out in her left hand. “Reveal your true form!” Another flash of glittery gold and she held a bow, soft blue with gold filigree. She grabbed the string with her right hand and drew it back, a streak of iridescent light appearing in place of an arrow. “Let Michelle go.”

The creature laughed, a twisted smile on its lips. “Did you really think I would make it that easy?” It spun around and dove out the window.

A scream wanted jump from Sarah’s lips. She tamped it down, dropping her right hand and running for the broken window. Fighting the urge to stop, she threw herself out into the air, spinning to face the sky. She grabbed her string, pulled, and shouted “Rainbow braid!” She let go. A streak of rainbow light shot towards the top of her building, embedding in the brick. She grabbed the line as it solidified and slid along it to the ground, moving much faster than she wanted to. Swallowing another scream, she hit the ground in a roll. Sarah jumped to her feet just in time to see the black armor of the creature, now having entirely swallowed Michelle, charging down the street still laughing.

Sarah dashed after her, arms pumping, the pain in her back forgotten. With her magically enhanced abilities, she caught up to the creature quickly. The creature hadn’t just been running from her. It had been busy. A cloud of technical components surrounded her. Broken bits of cell phone screens, computer boards, SD cards, and other bits stolen from the screaming crowd orbited the creature as she whipped around to face Sarah.

The pieces began combine, turning into four orbiting satellites. There was the gleam of camera lenses, the glitter of metal, the shine of the black material that covered Michelle. The creature had used a piece of itself to create whatever circled it now. Sarah wasn’t going to find out. She raised her bow, the streak of light appearing when she drew the string, and fired. The magical arrow bounced off an invisible force before the creature, leaving a blue ripple in its wake. She fired a couple more times. Same effect.

The creature laughed in its strange voice. And then it multiplied. Four of the armor-plated creatures stood before her. Sarah struggled not to look dumb-struck. The parasites drew on their host’s passions, their work. What had Michelle been working on again? Some kind of encrypted security software that automatically made back-ups of whatever the user was working on. And protected it.

She swallowed a curse. Defenders didn’t curse, openly. That explained the copies, the armor, and the force field. It had been a long time since she longed to be surrounded by her team, but now the feeling threatened to swallow her. Sure, she kept in touch with them, still played virtual Dungeons and Dragons with Shonda, but as friends. The barely even talked about their magical girl soldier days, and actively avoided speaking about Maggie.

God-damned Maggie, who she would need to defeat this parasite properly.

Her hand brushed her hip, feeling for her phone. She could at least call Shonda or Chloe or Kelsey for backup. Unfortunately, it was still on the floor in her building’s hallway outside Michelle’s room.

“Well, of fucking course,” she muttered.

[gabriel4sam]

The weeping stone, a little crossover, the Mummy x Star Wars

 Beta-ed by @wrennette, a little fic The Mummy x Star Wars. 

Under the cut; the fic:

Our story started a long, long time ago and in a galaxy far away and never really ended. There was just a pause. A long pause. Eons passed.

And then it started again, just like that: 

Two men, alone and desperately human, fighting against abominations from the dawn of civilisation. Monsters with a taste for human flesh. One favoured his left side. They made their last stand at the forgotten temple of a forgotten goddess, erased from human memory with great care by Ptolemy III Euergetes, his mages and what would become the Medjai, more than two centuries before the modern era. A forgotten goddess now trying to make a comeback heralded in blood, famine, and other happy events.

Those men should have never left the scene, or only in very, very, very tiny bits.

Sadly for the beasts, that sort of situation had become terrifyingly normal for Jonathan and Ardeth.

Not everybody can have exotic dancers as a bad habit, like most of Jonathan’s Oxford friends.

With a yell like a woodsman putting the last axe wound in a giant tree, Ardeth cut in two the latest giant crocodile with two heads. The left head, apparently not the quickest to apprehend new circumstances, continued to flail a moment. Ardeth watched it carefully, with an air clearly meaning: Try it, if you dare.

Since no one glared like Ardeth, the left head wisely died, instead of incurring his wrath again.

“These things definitely don't conform to the traditional representation,” Jonathan remarked, with the blasé attitude of a man who had become sadly used to giant animals with too many heads, resurrected priests and other fun ways to pass the time in the charming country of Egypt. If he didn’t go bankrupt every time he put a foot on the soil of the Mother country, he would have refused to leave England. There, dead things stayed dead and even if Arthur had risen, Jonathan was sure the lad would have been much more amiable than Imhotep.

Perhaps it was a question of the soil temperature…. Would dead English sovereigns rise if transplanted in Egypt? Or Scottish ones? The Scottish ones seemed more fun.

“Carnahan, stop dreaming and come help,” Ardeth ordered and Jonathan thought of protesting. Harvesting hearts of two-headed magical creatures was gory and smelly. Even if it was to stop a giant wave of drought which would devastate Egypt and probably cause a lot of deaths. But Jonathan had seen enough death during the Great War; deaths he could never forget, no matter what new horrors Evy and her brand new husband Rick, and Ardeth, half friend half pain in the ass in Jonathan’s opinion, discovered every day.

“Life was so much simpler without the supernatural,” Jonathan grumbled, but it was weak and he went to help. The sooner they had the hearts, the quicker they could leave, and supposing Evy and Rick had successfully harvested the brains of their own two-headed monsters, they could stop the drought, leave their third lost temple this year and go back to Jonathan favourite way to pass life: searching for a way to earn money.

Preferably without the dead rising, for once.

They stayed with the Medjai for the night, since it would have been pretty stupid to try returning to the city after dark. The night was beautiful, all stars and an enormous moon and Jonathan was finding himself quite enamoured with life. His sister and her husband disappeared into their tent and he hoped they remembered they were not alone and currently surrounded only by cloth.

The Medjai were extremely pleasant hosts, even Ardeth for all his glaring, and whatever the pastries and strange herbal tea they were distributing were almost making Jonathan not care they didn’t drink alcohol… or that Ardeth took Jonathan’s secret stash at the beginning of their current adventure to prepare a makeshift bomb.

Against a giant Mesopotamian…thing, because evidently the local monsters and undead weren’t enough. Some had apparently been imported too.

Jonathan let himself fall into the nest of covers loaned to him for the night. He was sore, but not too bruised, and the satisfaction of saving people had an edge even a cynic like him couldn’t deny.

“You know, the only thing missing is gallant company. Not that yours isn’t charming, old chap, but nothing beat a scandalously clothed lady. With the bosom, you know,” Jonathan said, gesticulating to illustrate.

Ardeth grunted and didn’t answer.

“But perhaps there is a Mrs. Bey in one of the tents? Or several? Are your people polygamists? Because that’s something I could get behind. Never too much of a good thing, you know, even if I always asked myself how it worked. I mean, some men must go without riches for other to have more? Very capitalistic and –“

“Carnahan, stop babbling. And no, there isn’t a Mrs. Bey, as you say. And if there was, you would be literally the last person in this country I would introduce to her.”

“Rude!”

“Sleep, Jonathan. We leave at dawn and I don’t enjoy having to throw water at you to force you to rise.”

“No need to grumble. Also, you totally enjoy it! And I’m sure you’ll find the perfect Mrs. Bey one day and sweep her off her feet. Very heroically, probably. There will be fireworks, old chap! ”

“Thanks, I suppose. But this isn’t…. My friend, there is-“

A snore interrupted him.

Ardeth turned to the side. Jonathan Carnahan had succumbed to the exhaustion of the day. Ardeth snorted, amused despite himself, and happy his confidences to his grating, but strangely attaching, friend had been stopped just in the nick of time. Some words couldn’t be unsaid. And he liked the Carnahan and O’Connell trio, despite their habit of stumbling exactly where they shouldn’t. He went on his last stroll around the camp, saluting the sentinels, as was his habit before sleep, and didn’t think any more of this conversation. Sadly, the sudden interest of Jonathan about his love life distracted him enough – should he tell him the truth or not, the English could be very strange about that – that he forgot for a moment a bad habit of Jonathan, where he pickpocketed everything shiny like an overgrown Oxford-educated magpie, and didn’t go through his pockets like he ought to after one of their expeditions.

Therefore, Ardeth missed the amulet in Jonathan’s vest, found in the temple of the day. And he missed the crystal, strange, shining, definitely nothing he had seen before, embedded in it.

***************************************

A woman was leaning down over Jonathan. She wore the strangest headdress he had ever seen, with two long tails of bizarre material, blue and white, and it was also crowning her, giving her a royal air, despite the blood running down her face. There was something slightly wrong about her face, like the proportions were slightly different from what they should normally be in a human.

“I’m sorry,” she was saying. “I’m sorry, Master, this is the only way to be sure he doesn’t get you too. Someone will come find you. The Alliance has our coordinates, they will find you.”

An older man stepped up behind her and he was bleeding too, the left part of his face a terrible wound, which had taken one of his eyes. The blood congealed on his beard and he used the wall to stay upright. The still intact eye shined with determination despite the probably terrible pain.

“Ahsoka, there isn’t time left,” he said and something sharp came to mask the despair on the woman’s face.

“I know,” she said. She took something from around her neck and it was the strange crystal in the amulet Jonathan had found. She leaned down and placed it on Jonathan.“Anakin’s crystal,” she said. “May you use it more wisely than him.”

She pushed a metal cover over Jonathan and it seemed so much like the lid of a sarcophagus. Jonathan wanted to yell for help but he was paralyzed. The last thing he saw was the woman turning, two swords of white flame in her hands, then whatever he was lying on went far away. There was an acceleration, like a plane taking off, and Jonathan knew nothing but the cold light of stars.

***************************************

Jonathan woke up shivering, his mouth already open to cry out. Ardeth was on the other side of the campfire, getting it going again for the morning tea.

“First time I've seen you up without help,” Ardeth smiled, but his smile died when he got a better look at the other man’s face.

“Jonathan?”

“Just…just a nightmare.”

Ardeth wisely nodded. Even he, who had been trained all his life to protect humanity from what was laying underneath the sands of Egypt and the neighbouring countries, would sometimes be visited in his dreams by the horrors he was regularly exposed to.

In silence, Ardeth offered his water skin for Jonathan to rinse the bilious taste of nightmares from his mouth.

***************************************

The woman was there again. The one with the strange headdress going down on either side of her head. The headdress was smaller and the tattoos on her face smaller too, like they hadn’t been finished. She was silently watching the cold coffin Jonathan was in, agony on her face.

“Oh Master,” she only said. “If only you were there… Really there. More than ever, I need your help.”

A man entered the room. He had brown skin, brown hair too long for even Cambridge and smart eyes.

“The Ghost is leaving in ten minutes, we can’t afford more.”

“I’m ready, tell Hera I will be on board.” The woman with the headdress said. Jonathan wanted to yell at her to take him with her, that he wanted to help, that it was his responsibility to help, but his mouth was cold and his tongue dead inside it, like a block of ice.

***************************************

 “Don’t you think your brother is…you know?” Rick asked one morning and Evelyn’s eyes left the reproduction of a Nekhen tomb painting she was admiring, realized she was about to put marmalade in her tea, took her glasses off and turned to her husband. Rick hadn’t put his shirt on yet, a fact she deeply appreciated.

“There are many answers to that question and some of them are about secrets I swore to take to my tomb when we were teenagers, so I will need you to elaborate, darling.”

“Don’t you think your brother is strange?”

“Did he try to convince you to invest in a bar in Casablanca again?”

“If I was trying to start a business with him, I would be the strange one. No, I mean, don’t you think he’s stranger than usual?”

As one, they turned to the patio of the decrepit house they were renting in Damietta.

It was eight in the morning and Jonathan was up.

That itself was strange.

Not that Jonathan couldn’t, in crisis time, wake early. But when they were still recuperating from their latest adventure, he liked to only get up at what he called “the crack of dawn,” meaning something like thirteen o'clock.

Eight in the morning, and he was awake, seeping tea slowly, and trying the meditation Ardeth had once tried to teach him, before pronouncing him totally inept. That itself was strange. The tears slowly flowing on his cheeks were making it unreal. 

Jonathan hadn’t shed a tear since coming back from the trenches of the Great War. What he had lived through there had used up all the tears for one life. After, there was only room for laughter,  sometimes slightly hysterical, alcohol, and women of ill repute, with the occasional supernatural menace.

“I think the last mission we accompanied Ardeth on was particularly difficult for him.”

“Nobody died!” Rick protested. “Nobody didn’t even almost died!”

“Dear God, we’re setting the bar quite low those last months….”

Rick turned again to Jonathan. At the beginning of his marriage to Evy, he had seen Jonathan more as an unfortunate consequence of Evelyn, someone to endure, until they had bonded with their experiences from the war. Some things they had shared with each other, they hadn’t even told Evy, the most important person in both their lives.

“I’m taking him for a drink tonight with my old  buddies from the Legion,” Rick decided. “Mano a mano.”

“That really doesn’t mean what you think it means,” Evelyn smiled and Rick couldn’t resist that smile, never had, and he swallowed an impromptu Latin lesson with a tender kiss, which lead to other things, and Evelyn quite late in her morning program for the study of the Nekhen tomb paintings.

 ***************************************************

There was a demon, more frightening than Imhotep himself. It was black, prowling in the shadows around Jonathan. The only thing Jonathan could perceive of it, a noise like lethal gas escaping its canister. The thing, the monster, the nightmare, carried a sword made of blood and at its feet lay the bodies of everyone Jonathan had ever loved.

Lost.

All of them were lost, because Jonathan had not been enough.

The despair should have a taste but Jonathan hadn’t tasted anything in years. There was just the cold, the after taste; spicy, of the last thing he had tasted, long ago, months ago, years ago, centuries ago, before laying down in his tomb, silent, vigilant witness of the end of everything and the rise of darkness.

****************************************************

Rick and Evelyn were waiting for him when he got back from his nightly walk. He had exchanged his usual nightly shenanigans in bars for slow walks across the landscape. By day, the sounds of so many people had become a torture and even at night, it was like Jonathan could feel them pressing around him. Only in the empty surroundings of Damietta could he find peace now, following the stars, which always seemed wrong to him, like they were in an incorrect configuration.

“Evy?” Jonathan asked, surprised, because they were always in bed when he came back.

“This is an intervention,” his sister said.

“Oh come on. I swear to you, I haven’t started using again. I know the effect of Forced Marche on me, I wouldn’t…"

“I know, darling,” Evy said with warmth, taking his hand in a gesture of comfort. “I know you wouldn’t do that to me, or to yourself again. But, you have been…you haven’t been yourself, those last weeks. At first, I confess I thought you were, how do I say it-“

“Hitting the bottle pretty hard,” Rick completed with no tact at all.

“But I remembered when you started to change and I called a specialist.”

There was a movement behind Jonathan and he turned and Ardeth was there, his face harder than Jonathan had seen in a long time. And in his hand, cradled like the simple contact was dangerous, was the amulet with the crystal Jonathan had found weeks ago, abandoned on the red sandstone altar in a temple of a forgotten goddess in Latopolis.

“That’s mine,” Jonathan yelled immediately, his hands raising to seize the jewel, but Rick’s arms were around his shoulders, as hard as steel.

“I failed you, my friend,” Ardeth said gravely.

“Ardeth, that’s mine!” Jonathan said again, already suffocating on tears, “That’s the only thing I have left!”

Another Medjai was there, one Jonathan didn’t know, and a foul-smelling cloth was across Jonathan's mouth, and he struggled, but Rick was stronger, and Ardeth was there too, helping Rick contain his thrashing, and the last thing he heard was Evelyn crying.

Beyond his eyelids, for a second, he would have sworn Evelyn’s silhouette was different, her belly round as the sun, and shining too, shining like a newborn star, but it made no sense and he lost himself to the dark of drugged sleep. 

********************************************************

The woman was there again. There was a man with her, blond hair, brown skin, a hand on her shoulder, comforting her as she put her two hands on the lid of Jonathan’s sarcophagus. Behind them, there was a man with darker skin and a dash of yellow across his nose and even if Jonathan had never seen him in his life, he wanted to beg him to take care of her, of her and the first man, the blond one, because if Jonathan himself couldn’t, this man with the yellow markings was almost him, brother, support, friend.

********************************************************

Jonathan woke up in a tent. Someone had tied his ankles together, not tight enough to stop him from walking, but tight enough to stop him from running. Ardeth was there, offering him a cup of tea, and even if Jonathan wanted to throw it to his face, his throat was parched. He accepted it.

“Was it poisoned?” Jonathan asked, voice hard with anger, once he had drunk everything.

“No, it wasn’t, and this is perhaps a question you should ask before accepting a drink.”

“Well, not like I can stop you, as the last hours demonstrated!”

“I understand you’re angry.”

“Well, you’re so brilliant to decipher emotion, if Medjai doesn’t work, perhaps you could become a disciple of Mister Freud.”

“We’re here to help you.”

“You have a strange way to show it,” Jonathan pointed out.

At that moment, the flap of the tent opened. Jonathan’s heart jumped in his chest. It was Evelyn and Rick and the sense of betrayal went higher. Ardeth was a friend, a good one, yes, but still only a friend. Rick and Evy were family. Family wasn’t supposed to betray each other. 

Ages old grief rose. Older than Jonathan, older than twice cursed Imothep, older than every temple in Egypt, and he choked on the wave of anguish. The infinite sadness was the only thing in his soul and it went higher, plugging his lungs, crushing his heart. On his cheeks tears started to flow again and he would have died of this pain, it was impossible to survive such sorrow.

Hands found his own. Darker hands with tattoos. Ardeth’s hands, scarred and dependable, hands which had saved Jonathan’s life countless times. 

A head was against his. Dark hair, the same as his, and their mother perfume, and the embrace of blood, a link he only had with Evey now, their English family dead and buried, but Evy, Evy was there, his beloved sister, and they had survived so much together, from their parents’ loss to the countless disappointments of life. 

Strong arms around his shoulder, his waist and the scent of that awful cologne. Rick. Rick, who made Evy happy, Rick who had seen the trenches too, Rick, the brother their parents didn’t have the time to give him.

Jonathan crashed into his body and into reality with all the grace of a drunk camel trying to run across a dune.

“What’s wrong with me!” He yelled, quite strongly, into poor Rick’s ears.

There was some fussing, a fortifying potion poured by Rick into Jonathan’s tea, despite Ardeth’s opinion that alcohol really wouldn’t help Jonathan, then they congregated around the fire with stew and explanations. Jonathan was famished. It was like he had survived only on tea and slow walks across the Egyptian landscapes for days.

“It was a very long time ago,” Ardeth explained. “During the Thinite Confederacy, before even the First Dynasty. One day a great fire fell from the sky into the desert. The tribes which formed the Confederacy sent an expedition to follow the trail of the fire and they found a great stone at the centre of a dune entirely crystallized, like an intense fire would have done. They brought back the stone to the city. Little by little, the members of the expedition who found it began to have visions. They could predict other tribes attack, they could sometimes know where a venomous snake was waiting in a bush, they knew where to go for good game in the hunts…”

“Seems like a pretty friendly stone,” Rick commented. “Very useful stuff.”

“But their new talents had a price,” Ardeth continued, like Rick hadn’t interrupted him. “The ones with the most talent, the ones who could sometimes heal wounds or ease a birth for example, were the most touched. They wept during feasts, they yelled into the night, they were taken apart by-“

“Sadness,” Jonathan said. “Infinite sadness.”

Ardeth nodded. Evelyn’s hand found her brother’s own hand and pressed on it.

“Most of them took their own life, at the end. A temple was built, coming from a vision one of the men touched by the stone had and the stone placed in the sanctuary. Once a year, young people were send to it to earn its wisdom.”

“That’s…that’s quite cold,” Evely shivered, “They were sacrificed. Fated to kill themselves or go crazy.”

“Yes, they were. Officially, they were designed by the oracles, but of course, most were chosen as a way for the most powerful to strike down their enemies.”

“Charming.”

“Some of them survived. They endured and went to become great souls, leading their people, or taking the places of advisors of the proto-kings. They said Menes, the founder of the first dynasty was one of them, that used what he learned from the stone to unify Egypt. They also said that the stone stopped talking to him because of the bloodshed, and that is why he was killed by a hippopotamus, because he had gotten too close to the beast, confident in a gift which had been taken back. They also said that Menes was the only one ever succeeding in opening the stone, and that he never said what was inside. Simply brought back that strange crystal in the amulet Jonathan stole.”

“Liberated, thank you very much,” Jonathan interrupted.

“All of this is fascinating,” Evelyn admitted. “But if we need the stone to help Jonathan…” Her brother was quite touched. For Evy, Evy! To interrupt Egyptian story time like that….

Ardeth nodded again.

“Yes, we need the stone and, praise Allah, I know where it is. The temple is in Thinis. Some said the weeping stone contributed to the abandonment of the city for Memphis as a capital.”

“Then we have a problem,” Evelyn realized. “Nobody has ever found Thinis.”

“The English haven’t,” Ardeth said with half a smirk and Evelyn made the same noise Rick made when he found a scorpion in their bathroom.

“We had this conversation before,” Rick immediately intervened, before Evelyn lost herself in an archaeological rant. “Ardeth certainly doesn’t have to tell you everything his people know and keep from the scientists.”

He kissed her pout. Knowledge was Evelyn’s grail and she could become a little insensitive to indigenous peoples' reasons for keeping secrets in her quest., Nobody was perfect, neither she or he or Ardeth, and their friendship could endure some friction.

**********************************************************

The woman had come back again. On Jonathan's coffin, she placed a strange helmet, white and half burned…

“Cody,” she said, then a long silence and she added: “He was himself at the end. He called for you.” And, in his coffin, Jonathan’s heart wept, like another wound had been added to his burden.

**********************************************************

Jonathan woke up kneeling, his face close, too close to the dying embers of the campfire. Ardeth hands, steel strong, the only things stopping him from burning himself.

A grief too big to bear pulsed in his heart, something so immense he couldn’t swallow it. He turned to Ardeth and saw in his friend’s eyes compassion and support. He didn’t deserve that man’s friendship. Friends could be taken so quickly, died in a flourish of a blade, Jonathan should….No, no, those thoughts weren’t his. Ardeth was a dear friend, yes, but he was in no danger of any blade.

It was such a freezing thought to realize the inside of his own brain weren’t exactly his own anymore.

“How far away is this city again?” Jonathan asked.

***********************************************************

Later, when Jonathan, pale and with too deep shadow beneath his eyes, had been put to sleep by a few drops of a potion made by one the Medjai specialist, Ardeth, Rick and Evelyn divided the hours of day and night between the three of them.

Jonathan couldn’t be left alone.

They left the camp at dawn, escorted by ten of Ardeth’s men. Jonathan was trying very hard to put his persona on, like a mask, and Rick was keeping him company at the moment, so Evelyn guided her camel next to Ardeth.

“Are you here to grill me about Thinis' secrets?” Ardeth asked and she made a face.

“I’m sorry,” Evey admitted. “Sometimes I lose myself in my desire for knowledge and I act harshly. I wouldn’t want you to think your friendship is only a means to me.”

“I know the truth of your heart, Evelyn O’Connell,” the Medjai simply said. “You are a good person, if not a very patient one. Which is a surprise for a woman capable of speaking ten dead languages.”

“Only nine,” Evey corrected and everything in her tone confessed she found it a terrible shortfall on her part.

He smiled and didn’t admit to her he spoke more. Instead, he told her old tales of the lost city of Thinis, stories of the beginning of Egypt, when the Medjai were simply one tribe of several, before the rise of the united country, before the Pharaohs. Evelyn listened, eyes shining. In return, she recited the Culhwch and Olwen to him, translating on the fly from middle Welsh to English and Ardeth was in turn fascinated.

“When Jonathan is healed,” Ardeth said, refusing to entertain the idea that his friend could die. “I think I would like to see your country.”

“I would like to be your guide,” Evelyn answered, “and to guide you to its secrets. Even if we are sadly lacking in lost magic cities.”

“Perhaps we will find them together,” Ardeth said. “Perhaps there are Medjai in your country, keeping its secrets, like my brothers and myself are keeping the secrets of Egypt.”

***************************************************************

There was a child. A small, strange child, with green skin and a bizarre headdress. She was a girl, and young, so young, and Jonathan knew that one day, she would have been his to teach. He had always known and she had too, and sometimes, when he could, he had visited her and the other children, happy to see her grow safe and happy, like every child should.

But a shadow entered the room. A shadow with a cowl obscuring its face, but Jonathan knew. He knew that shadow had been his child too and if his lips were sealed by cold and death, his heart yelled and cried and raged, as the shadow cut in two the one who should have been his sister.

***************************************************************

Thinis slept under the sand but the Medjai knew a way. They always knew a way, custodians of so many secrets. Ardeth guided their small expedition and they started to dig, taking turns, to excavate the entry to the lost city.

“How long since you last dug it out?” Rick grumbled, as he was on the team excavating the sand. “It seems that door hasn’t seen the light of the sun since it was built, with all this freaking sand on it.”

“We haven’t come back since the sixteenth century,” Ardeth explained. “The amulet was stolen from a group of Medjai at that time, and we tracked the buyer, and tried to save his son who had touched the crystal.”

“And did it work?”

Ardet’s grimace told everything of the answer.

“Perfect, just perfect,” Rick growled and he started to work even harder.

Once the path to the door was cleared out, Ardeth left half his men outside on guard with Evelyn and Rick, and entered the city with Jonathan and the rest of the Medjai. Evelyn had protested, and Rick too, and it was Jonathan’s own voice that finally had convinced them. How could he fight the despair in his soul, if he was afraid for his family?

“You’re going with Ardeth!” Evelyn had protested and the Medjai had been touched by this casual inclusion in their family.

“Sometimes attachment isn’t enough,” Ardeth had told the young woman. “We have been trained since childhood for this. We won’t fail your brother. We won’t fail our friend in his time of need.”

The Medjai had been trained for this. To protect the world from everything that slept under the sand. To stand guard, silent, vigilant, between the people of Egypt and the different horrors the past had left. Ardeth thought about that as they progressed. It was his duty and also his honour, but even he found the slow walk into the city buried under the sand difficult.

Not physically.

Here, there weren't any of the traps or undead abominations which had marked his first adventure with Rick and company, when together they had stopped Imothep.

No, the difficulty was in all their hearts and it didn’t come from their own feelings. It was a song of despair, of infinite sadness, a grief which tore them apart and still asked for more. But where men of the past had succumbed, the Medjai didn’t. Perhaps the only ones who wouldn’t. 

Duty. A life offered to duty. The desire to protect, even the people who didn’t understand them, who would have spit on their way of life. That was the Medjai way. And whatever was waiting for them in the heart of the city understood that, perhaps more than anything else in the world.

Perhaps even more than infinite sadness.

Duty, even in the time of grief.

For this, the warriors and Jonathan arrived alive at the ruined temple. Gritting their teeth against despair, but alive, if slightly dusty. Ardeth left his men there and guided Jonathan further in. The Englishman couldn’t walk anymore, despite courageous effort. Ardeth, a hand around his waist, dragged him into the sanctuary, and almost let go of him the moment they entered. In the light of the torch, the stone glittered in a way no stone should.

Slowly, Ardeth helped Jonathan to the base of the steps. When Jonathan was sitting down, he went closer to examine the stone. It was no stone, something his ancestors hadn’t included in their reports, perhaps for fear to seem insane.

Ardeth touched it.

It was metal, he was certain of it. A metal he couldn’t identify, but a metal. And there, at the base of it there was….

There was something deformed by heat, by time, by the shock of a crash in the desert centuries ago, but that a modern Medjai could identify where pre-pharaonic and fifteen centuries Medjai couldn’t.

Some sort of handle.

Some sort of door handle….

Ardeth, in a moment of dumb courage his Medjai teachers would have walloped his behind for, turned the handle. It was stuck, but with a bit of effort…

A hiss, stale air, and it opened.

On the stone floor, Jonathan had passed out.

Ardeth looked inside the stone which wasn’t a stone.

There was…there was some strange statue. A man. Certainly not Egyptian, but no people he could identify. Simply a man, very realistic, but only three-quarters of him could be seen, the rest lost in the mass of stone, or metal, behind him, like the sculptor had been interrupted. On the side, there was some metal contraption with lights, all red, and blinking like crazy. And one by one, they were going out.

Ardeth had half decided to throw Jonathan across his shoulders and start running, because he didn’t want to be there when the last one went out, when suddenly all of them failed and went dark.

There was a light, a noise, liquid falling on the floor, and a man stepped out of the statue, into Ardeth’s arms.

“Ahsoka,” he said, opening eyes as blue as the sky in the desert, and then he passed out. At the same time, a fog of grey lifted from Ardeth’s heart and he understood that whatever spell had come from the stone, the…thing, it was forever a thing of the past.

To say the Medjai, Rick and Evy were surprised to see half their team coming back with an extra member was an understatement. Their usual was more: 'sudden monster trying to eat their heart and liver,' not: 'mysterious human with red hair stepping out of a statue.' Nevertheless, camp was established, and Jonathan was examined from head to toe, then the man.

“He looks…normal,” was the very helpful diagnostic.

And he did. Only one head, blue eyes, red hair, red beard.

“He would seem more at his place in England, if not for the strange armour,” Evelyn commented, and then forget a little about their guest, because Jonathan had woken up. A little hungover, exhausted, but definitely himself.

And the stranger slept. Days after days. As they stayed in camp the time necessary to let Evelyn visit the ruins, which was both the sweetest gift the Medjai could give her, and the cruellest. The sweetest, because her soul thirsting for knowledge saw and learned things no archaeologist had ever dreamed off. The cruellest, because she could never talk about it, or publish about it, or even use the knowledge gained. Then they hid the entry of the city again and departed.

Every day, the sleeping stranger was tied up to Ardeth on his camel. Every night, they moistened cloths in milk and water, pressing them between his lips to nourish him. Every day, the stranger’s skin lost a little of his pallor as his health seemed to get better.

Jonathan helped the Medjai care for the man with a patience he hadn’t demonstrated in years. He felt a strange kinship with this stranger who had almost caused his death. How could he blame him when he remembered the depth of his sadness? 

Sometimes, late in the night, when the memory of his pain was too much on his heart, he searched for Ardeth. He didn’t remember exactly what had happened in the temple, but he knew the warrior had saved his life and his sanity and he remembered his arms around his shoulders, his silent protection. Late in the nights, they talked. 

They talked about Medjai training and Oxford. They talked about what they had seen of the world. They talked about their family, Ardeth’s grandfather and uncle who had led the Medjai before him and his father whom he hadn’t known, killed in battle before his birth.They talked about Jonathan and Evelyn’s parents and how their English family had never quite accepted this union and the children resulting…

One night, Ardeth even talked about why there never would be a Mrs. Ardeth Bey, something no person outside the Medjai had ever known, and Jonathan had thanked him for his trust and admitted some  youthful indiscretions, in the terms used by his Oxford peers. This night, there was no more talking but every night they sat a little closer and neither the Medjai or the O'Connell interrupted their time together, happy to see the slow progress of their dance, the seed of happiness.

************************************************************

Obi-Wan woke up.

It was the strangest thing. It felt alien, unreal. Things were definitely quite jumbled upstairs, his brain as scrambled as if he had spent a weeklong bender with what the clones pretended was alcohol, but he knew it had been longer than that, far too long. He knew he had spent more time in carbonite thant he was supposed to for their infiltration of the Citadel. Images were rushing around in his mind, and pain and anger and grief and Padme yelling and Ahsoka, tall and proud, everything a Jedi should be, and Rex’s blood on the floor and Anakin’s eyes a sickly yellow and nothing, nothing made sense.

Obi-Wan called to the Force and pushed himself into healing with the rest of his strength.

He passed out.

The next time he woke up, he could perceive people around him.

Strangers, not Force sensitive, but…friendly? Or at least, not unfriendly. But his body was still terribly weak and again, Obi-Wan called to the Force.

The third time waking was the good one.

Around him, Obi-Wan knew it was night, all souls at rest save one, at his side, and others further away. Guards, probably.

Carefully, he pushed a little in the Force and perceived no other Force Sensitive around, so he latched onto the closest person and slowly, very slowly, tipped them into sleep.

Only then did Obi-Wan open his eyes.

A stranger, dressed for the desert. Human, or humanoid…no, human.

Obi-Wan carefully stood up. Even with the healing, his steps were hesitant. How long….

He stepped out of the tent, silent as only a Jedi could be. Someone had taken his armour, and changed his clothes. He was dressed in blue like the stranger he had sent to sleep. He needed to find his armour and where he was.

But first, and most importantly, his lightsaber. He concentrated, searched into the Force, encountered a sleeping man next to the embers of a dying fire and stopped.

In the Force, not only could he perceive his own kyber crystal in his lightsaber, in another tent, but also Anakin’s lightsaber. Anakin wasn’t there, of that he was sure, the sun of his power would be impossible to miss.

Obi-Wan found his lightsaber easily and his brother’s kyber, not in Anakin lightsaber but in a strange necklace. With a shrug, he put the necklace around his neck. Evading the place where he could feel the guards, Obi-Wan stepped out of the camp.

He had only trekked two dunes when he felt Ahsoka. Strange, more powerful Ahsoka, but definitely Ahsoka. He had already understood time had passed, so when he broke into a run, he thought he would find his Grand Padawan all grown up, regal and powerful, a Knight of her own. Perhaps already a Master!

When he saw her, it was a shock.

Blue and transparent and shining, waiting for him across the dunes, compassion written on all her being.

Obi-Wan had always known he was fated for infinite sadness and he understood the time he had waited for all his life had come for him.

***************************************************************

Ardeth was the one who found him.

It had been easy to track his steps across the sand, once he had found his cousin asleep next to the covers of their strange guest, instead of standing guard.

The man was kneeling in the sand and crying. Ardeth, who already had his knife out against what he was sure was a trap, hesitated.

The man looked up and, like in the sanctuary, the Medjai took the blue of his eyes like a shock. He saw the man shoulder his pain and shake himself, with the fortitude of one who had borne too much burden too often. Then the man stood up and touched his chest.

“Obi-Wan,” he said.

“Ardeth,” the Medjai answered and Obi-Wan bowed politely.

Ardeth designated the direction they had come from, like a question, and Obi-Wan obediently started the trip back. Side by side, they walked, Obi-Wan lost in his thought, and the Medjai observing him.

It had been this man’s pain that had resonated from inside the stone.

What sort of grief could be so terrible….One day, perhaps he would know.

For now, tea and food, for the stranger and for their expedition.

They had time.

As they were approaching the first tent, Obi-Wan turned a last time and saw Ahsoka. She bowed and disappeared, probably going back to the Force, or to the New Republic, which Anakin’s children had made happen, and then his grandchildren, great grandchildren, countless generations while Obi-Wan had been prisoner in the carbonite, the module damaged, stopping him from  waking up.

Across the stars, far, far away, there were still Jedi, but what could he do, for people who thought his name was an old legend? People who weren’t even sure Anakin’s Fall and the End of the First Republic hadn’t been a legend for children, with how long ago it was?

Obi-Wan, resolutely, turned to the camp. He knew the world. Whatever the strange planet he had winded up, he was pretty sure there were people to help and things to learn. Starting with their language!

A man whom Obi-Wan had never seen but who was definitely strangely familiar, like Obi-Wan knew the shape of his soul, was running to them and he threw his arms around Ardeth, before babbling something the Jedi couldn’t understand, going beet red. Ardeth answered something, his tone firm, and put an arm around the other man’s waist in return, not letting him turn away. The other man went ever more red. 

Obi-Wan smiled. Yes, people were people, whatever the species or the era. 

The other man turned to Obi-Wan and again the Jedi had this strange impression of a resonance in the Force. The man wasn’t Force Sensitive, of that Obi-Wan was sure, but he almost could have been tipped in this direction, with just a small nudge from fate. What stayed was a strange connection, when their eyes met. 

The man bowed in a fluid movement, ceremonial and old, which was pure Jedi, like he had learned from Obi-Wan himself better than Anakin ever learned it, not interested as he was in protocol, or even in being polite. 

“Jonathan,” he said and Obi-Wan gave a bow in answer and said :

“Obi-Wan,” and the man smiled and said something he didn’t understand but which, Obi-Wan would have bet his lightsaber, meant some variations of ‘I know’.

At the side of the two men, the Jedi entered the camp and stepped into his new life. 

[scarlettwitcher]

You’re Mine Omega Chapter One

Summary: Jensen had everything he wanted in life except the one thing he needed: his omega. After a fateful encounter, Jensen has to make a life changing decision for himself, his omega, and his wife.

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Danneel Ackles, Reader, brief mention of other cast members and Cliff

Word Count: 2732

Warnings: Lots and lots of angst, growling(?), mentions of ruts and heats

Author’s Note: It’s finally here everyone! I’m finally going to release the first chapter of YMO. It’s going to be a relatively small series buuut the chapters will be long AF. I really do encourage lots and lots of feedback since I am starting to doubt my writing, cause self deprecation. If you’d like to be added to any tag list, including forevers, please let me know. And as always, Thanks for reading babes!

Carry on my wayward son

There’ll be peace when you are done

Lay your weary head to rest

Don’t you cry no more!

“You’re missing the finale! Get your ass in here before I drag you by your hair!” You couldn’t believe your roommate was missing the intro. You popped a handful of popcorn into your mouth as you felt your heart beat faster after every lyric. You couldn’t help the small whines that left your mouth every time you saw his emerald eyes on the screen. You wouldn’t ever admit it but you were enamored with the big Alpha that appeared on one of your favorite shows. You didn’t know what attracted you so much to him but you knew you felt the pull. You couldn’t even bring it up to your roommate as you knew she would make fun of you but she knew and it was a silent rule to never bring it up. It was strange for Omega’s of your age to be unmated but then again, you were 23 and not getting any younger. Your roommate appeared a few minutes later and plopped down next to you on the couch as you both watched the finale of Supernatural together.

*~*

“Jensen!” Jensen was on the side talking to the director when Jared walked in, calling him out. 

“Yeah, Jare? What’s up?” Jensen made his way over to Jared who was stuffing his face at the snack table. “Hey! So I’m going to the airport in an hour. You’re coming with me right?”

“Oh yeah… Hiatus. I forgot. Yeah, I’ll join you. I have the tickets.” Jared nodded as he took a second to finish eating before talking. 

“Good. I’m sure both wives will be excited. I’ve been dying to get back to my Omega. Her heat will hit soon and I want to be home to take care of her.” Jensen gave Jared a tight smile as he thought about home. Danneel wasn’t his Omega, she wasn’t even an omega. After searching for his Omega for so long, he knew if he didn’t settle down, he’d become feral. He met Danneel, a sweet beta, and settled down. Jensen knew she wasn’t his true mate but they both knew that going in and always knew, that if the opportunity ever came and Jensen met his true Omega, he’d be free to pursue her, at least, that’s what they agreed on years ago. 

“Yeah.. Yeah man I get it. Take care of your girl.” Jared sighed as he watched his friend and placed a hand on his shoulder, concern etched on his features. “You’re close to your rut, aren’t you?”

“Yeah…and every time, it gets harder.” Jensen let out a sigh as he looked at Jared with somber eyes. “Every time they hit, I feel it. I’m starting to lose control. As much as I love Danneel, she’s- it’s not enough.��� Jensen dragged a hand down his face as he placed both hands on his hips as he stared at the floor. “It’s taking a toll on both of us. I’ve been thinking of ending things, just accept my fate." 

"Don’t talk like that. Look, I think you just need a few days off, take a break from work. Go home and enjoy yourself as much as you can. We have a convention next week. You always love going to those. Seeing the fans, the hotels, the panels, even the photo ops bring a huge smile to your face. I’ll let the crew know you’re close to your rut, in case it hits during the convention, so we can take the precautions. I’ll see you in a bit man.” Jared gave Jensen a reassuring smile as he now had both his arms on his shoulders, before pulling him into a bro hug. Jensen nodded as he let out a shaky breath. After saying their goodbyes, Jensen walked over to his trailer and packed his few belongings, purposely taking his time, knowing he really didn’t want to be home. The guilt started to creep up into his head, knowing Danneel deserved so much better than what he was giving.

A week after arriving home, Jensen couldn’t help feeling distant towards his wife. It wasn’t her fault but he couldn’t bring himself to even touch her. He knew he was hurting her but he just couldn’t. Jensen had his moments every time his ruts hit. He wanted to be away from everyone. But knowing that this was the first convention of the tour they were doing, he just couldn’t miss it. Of course, they’d go easy on him considering his state. Danneel tried to offer to help him through it but she knew it only fell on deaf ears. The day before he had to leave for his flight, Jensen waited by the door, Cliff on his way to pick him up to take him to the airport. He had his bags ready since the beginning of the week which was when he had arrived from Vancouver. Waiting by his door and checking his phone two or three times every minute, Danneel approached him to say goodbye. “I know you’re going to be gone for a few weeks and then go back to filming but… Do you think they could give you a few days off? Be home for a bit? I feel like we really haven’t had much time together. We can plan a small getaway… Go to our cabin even? I miss you.” Danneel caught herself whispering the last part, knowing her husband was now slipping through her fingers. She bit her lip as she slowly inched closer, resting her hand softly on Jensen’s bicep.

He instantly tensed at her touch and couldn’t bring himself to relax as he clenched his jaw. He took a deep breath, looking at her hand on his arm, before looking at her. He had heard the last part and felt his resolve lessen more and more. He couldn’t take all the guilt swirling through his body, knowing he was making her suffer. He knew what he had to do but he didn’t have the strength to do it. Jensen sighed softly as he nodded, and swallowed thickly before speaking. “I’ll see what I can do.” Danneel looked a tad bit hopeful as she nodded softly, taking what he gave her, before pulling her hand away and wrapping it around herself. She heard the distinct honk of a car and knew Jensen had to leave. She watched him grab his bag and open the door. He sighed and stopped halfway out the door as he looked at her. Jensen was starting to look how he felt. Dark eyes, uneven scruff, sad eyes. Danneel felt a pang in her chest, knowing why he looked so defeated but didn’t dare utter a word about it. It had caused countless fights in the past and that was the last thing anyone needed. Jensen licked his lips, his mind racing with all the words he wanted to say, the words he needed to say, but after careful thought, he only said what he knew she needed to hear. “I’m sorry.. for everything. I’ll see you soon. Take care of yourself.” With that, Jensen nodded softly and left closing the door behind him. It was going to be a long weekend for him.

*~*

You couldn’t stop the bright smile that appeared on your face as soon as your eyes fluttered open. It was the day of your first big convention and the excitement was bubbling all over your body. You’d finally meet your hunter heroes. You jumped out of bed and ran into the shower, giddy from your head to your toes. You made sure to scrub extra hard, shave, and even exfoliate which you never, ever did but it was a special occasion. Once you were done in the shower, you made your way to your room, making sure you had your small luggage packed. Even though the convention was happening in your city, you and Emily were going to stay in the hotel where the convention was held. You worked so much overtime to be able to even afford a room for a few days but it was completely worth it. Once you were dry, you dropped your towel to the side and slid into your lucky underwear. You sat at your vanity as you stared at yourself in the mirror for a few seconds. You patted your cheeks gently as you felt the anxiety start to creep in. You willed it away and narrowed your eyes at your reflection before pointing at your mirrored self. “Look girly, today we are going to meet the guys. Today we are not going to panic. Today we are going to look hot as fuck for our pictures.” You smiled wide and nodded, feeling enlightened with your pep talk. Making quick work, you dried your hair and curled it into loose waves and did your makeup simple enough to highlight your eyes and lips. Then you quickly changed into your favorite jeans which made your ass look great, a simple black halter top, that would hang just an inch over your jeans and your back exposed nicely, and your favorite pair of sandals. You bit your lip as you stared at yourself in the mirror and smiled, feeling confident in your look. 

Grabbing your luggage and bag, you walked to your door where Emily was waiting. Once you checked you had all the passes and the tickets, you both grabbed your things, piling into your car and driving over to the hotel. Checking in and going to the room, you finished setting up before making your way back down to the convention area. You looked around in awe as everyone was walking around, looking at all of the stands and signs. It was everything you’d imagined. You loved watching all of the cosplays, stopping a few people here and there, taking pictures. Once a few hours had passed, you realized you had your first pictures of the day and decided to make your way to the line. Emily wanted to finish looking around and promised to keep in touch. You finally found the line and saw it was starting to build up, and moved quickly, securing a spot with around 20 people in front of you. 

Jensen had arrived at the hotel that morning, checking in. Once in his room, he let his body collapse into the bed, groaning out. It had been a long flight and the night before with Danneel was causing a lot of grief on himself. Knowing today wasn’t about him, he got up and made sure to prep himself for the day. He evened out his beard and took a cold shower, feeling his skin starting to rise just a tad bit in temperature. Once he was ready, he met up with Jared in his room before both of them made their way down to the conference room where the convention was being held.

“Okay, so we have photo ops first thing and then a panel. Since it’s Friday, it’s a pretty chill day today. Take it easy on yourself.” Jensen nodded as he only listened, not trusting himself to speak. The handlers guided both of the men to the areas where they were needed and prepared for the first objective of the day: photo ops. 

Before you knew it, the line started to move. You were too nervous. You knew the pose you wanted for the photo and you knew you looked good. What was making your stomach do thousands of flips was the idea of actually meeting the man that plagued your thoughts most days. The idea of touching him, holding him, smelling him was enough to make you have to fan yourself with the papers you’d gathered from the convention. You swallowed thickly but tried your best to calm yourself, knowing you couldn’t lose your cool. Being so into your head, you finally came back to reality and realized that you were in fact next. You took a few deep breaths, calming yourself enough to get through meeting them. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, one of the handlers came forward and signaled you in. Passing through a few curtains, you finally entered the room. You bit your lip seeing Jensen and Jared near the corner of the room, both with their backs to you. One of the handlers approached them, letting them know you were there. Jared nodded and turned towards you with a wide smile. “Hey there! It’s nice to meet you!”

You let out a small nervous giggle as you nodded to the giant man. “I-it’s nice to meet you too. This is, uh, this is my first time at one of these. It’s exciting.” Jared laughed and nodded as he hugged you, leaving an arm on your shoulder. “Yeah, they can be. What’s your name?" 

"It’s Y/n." 

“Well Y/n, this is Jensen.” Jared signaled for Jensen to speak, as the man was too concentrated on looking at the floor. The man took a deep breath and took a step forward with his arm outstretched like he was going to shake your hand before slowly raising his eyes to yours. It was like time stood still. Everyone and everything around you disappeared. His breath hitched in his throat as he felt it. He felt it. Every worry, every pain that he had was gone. All that mattered at that moment was you. You couldn’t deny the fact that you felt it too. Every instinct and every part of you screamed to run into his arms and kiss him until you suffocated. But then you felt it start to boil in your lower belly. You had only known about true mates from the countless stories your mother told you as a child. That you believed them was a different story. But now, you couldn’t deny that every word your mother spoke was true. You had found your true mate and it wasn’t long until you’d go into heat. Jensen could smell it before it even began. He could smell you. Your scent was getting stronger by the second and it was now going to push him into a rut. He couldn’t stop himself. He took a step towards you and another until he was towering over you.

Jensen was now taking heavy breaths as his eyes scanned over your face wildly as if he’d look away, you’d disappear. He reached a tentative hand up towards your cheek and the moment his hand touched your skin, burst of sparks courses both your body and his. You closed your eyes tightly and leaned into his touch. Jensen would give anything to watch you seek out his touch. Before he could stop himself, he heard himself utter the word that he had on the tip of his tongue since the moment he laid eyes on you. "Omega." 

Jared watched on from the back, confused as everyone watched Jensen. Nobody dared to say a thing, but Jared knew what was happening. The way Jensen touched you, spoke to you, looked at you. It was obvious to everyone around you both. Before he could take a step forward to hopefully alleviate the awkward situation, he watched you crumble forward as you cried out in pain. You didn’t expect for the cramps to hit you so quick and hard as your heat started to overtake your body. You fell into Jensen’s arms as he held you protectively against him. Jared had to react fast to get the situation under control. He took a few steps towards the couple as he held his hands up almost in surrender. "Woah Y/n are you o-” Jared jumped back as Jensen was now growling at him, baring his teeth at Jared. Jensen growled at everyone who even tried to get near you. Everyone watched in shock as Jensen held you possessively as you cried from the cramps. Losing control of you will, you grabbed onto Jensen’s shirt tightly, willing his attention to you as you cried softly. “It hurts. H-help me please… Alpha.” The moment the title left your lips, Jensen had you in his arms, running out of the room, leaving everyone dumbfounded, wondering what the hell just happened.

*~*

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You’re Mine Omega Tags: @janicho88​ @gryffindorqueensworld​ @spnfamily-thewinchesters​ @shamelesslydean​ @band-and-sadness​

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Makayla Part Two

Sam Winchester x Reader

Words: 2529

Part One

Summary: With your secret revealed, Sam has no choice but to help you. Dean, still holding a grudge, reluctantly joins. Makayla gets to know her family. 

Notes: I hope you guys are liking this series as much as I loved writing it! Thank you for all of your support already, it really means the world to me. Continue to let me know what you think and enjoy more of Winchester October. 

Special shout out to my amazing beta reader Sarah, @suckmysupernatural​ . I love her so much and honestly, she’s helped me so much in getting these imagines out for you and she has some absolutely killer writing of her own!

Want more Supernatural? Find it HERE

-

Five Years Ago

Sam held you a little closer tonight. Seeing Jessica… it just brought back so many bad memories and took his mind to a darker place. It was the place that gave him nightmares of losing you or his brother. So he held you a little closer. You didn’t mind. It helped you fight your own night demons. 

Of course, you couldn’t sleep anyway. You laid there, gently running your fingers through Sam’s hair and staring up at the ceiling. There was this dread gnawing at your insides. You weren’t her. You would never be her. It wasn’t that she was beautiful. She meant more than that. She was the life Sam always wanted but never got. The life he still dreamt about. The one he hoped for someday. You couldn’t give him that life. You were too far gone. 

“You okay, kid?” Dean was looking over at you from his bed, unable to sleep himself. He had been doing more research on the leviathans. You turned your head, eyes glistening in the dark. 

“That was one sick bastard.” You whispered angrily. Dean sighed. 

“Sometimes that's how they get us. They can make us see things. Stuff we want to forget.”

“But he doesn’t want to forget her.” You looked back up at the ceiling. “Not really. I think her memory gives him hope.”

“Hope for what?” 

“For the life he could have had with her.” You didn’t say anymore, but you didn’t have to. Dean understood you pretty well. You two were a lot alike. That’s why you scared him. 

-

Present Day

“Sam?” Makayla gasped, looking at you with wide eyes. Dean’s eyes kept darting between you and Sam and the little girl. Makayla was beaming. “My dad’s name is Sam!” You inhaled sharply. 

“Kayla, why don’t you go back with Miss Naomi and show her those drawings you made me?” 

“But I want to stay here and meet Sam.” She pouted her lip and gave you those big puppy eyes that her dad was always so good at. You kissed her forehead. 

“You can meet him later, but mom needs to talk to them first, okay?” 

“Okay.” She frowned and scampered off to find Naomi. Without her, the three of you fell silent, everything slowly sinking in. 

“How old is she?” Sam asked quietly. You barely heard him. 

“What?”

“How old is she?” This time he looked at you and his eyes with a mix of sadness and anger and confusion, but most of all, he looked devastated. You had to look away. 

“She’s four. She’ll turn five in March.” 

“Jesus Christ, Y/N…” Dean sighed, running a hand down his face. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sam was trying to keep himself together, but this was too much. First, you come back after five years of leaving him in the dust and then you tell him he has a daughter? 

“I wanted to, Sam. I swear, I was going to.” You cried. “But I never knew if you were alive or dead or in hell! I didn’t know what to do Sam.”

“You find me and tell me I have a child!” He yelled, towering over you. “You had four years, Y/N. There’s no excuse for that.” You wanted to reach to him, but your arms just fell limply to your sides. 

“I’m sorry.” There was nothing else you could say. 

“Sorry?” Dean scoffed. “Sweetheart we are so far past sorry, we’re in a different time zone.” Dean was almost as rattled as Sam. This whole time, you had been hiding a kid. After the way you left… Sam deserved better than this. 

“What do you want me to say, Dean?” You exclaimed. “I have been doing the best I can to raise a little girl, and in our world, that isn’t easy.” Sam stiffened. 

“You’re still hunting?” 

“Don’t start with that, Sam.” You didn’t like his accusing tone. “I tried settling down, okay? For the first year, we lived nice and quiet in New Mexico. Then those vampires came for me and I had to run. So I started hunting again.” It was all you knew. “On big cases I bring her here to stay with Naomi.” 

“I can’t believe you.” Sam laughed bitterly, turning away. Dean crossed his arms over his chest. 

“If you’ve got this all figured out, why come to us now? Why tell us now?” 

“The vampires and I have a history. I thought if I could just keep ahead of them, they would give up.” You explained, Sam refusing to look at you. “But they got too close this time. Kayla almost got hurt and I realized that I had to take the bastards out once and for all.” The brothers didn’t say anything. Dean had his angry stare locked on you while Sam watched the sky.  “I can’t do it alone, Sam. I have to do this. For both of them.” He finally turned back to you. 

“They’re the vampires that killed Makayla… aren’t they?” 

You named your daughter after your best friend. You grew up with Makayla, went to high school together, even roomed together in college. You were practically sisters. One night you came back to your apartment and there they were. Three vampires leaning over her body with her blood dripping from their mouths. It was why you started hunting in the first place. 

You nodded and Sam took a deep breath. He didn’t have a choice now. He had more to lose. 

“Can I…” He started, his voice trailing off as he glanced at the house. “Can I talk to her?” You mustered a small smile. 

“She’d love that.”  You watched as he nervously fixed his jacket and walked inside. 

“Of all of the things you’ve done, this is by far the most messed up.” Dean growled, staring you down. You kept your eyes on Sam, another tear falling.

“I know.” 

Sam slowly opened the door and found the little girl sitting on the floor, the TV going as she drew pictures in a little notebook. Sam sat down across from her, grabbing the remote and turning the volume down. He looked at some of the pictures she had finished. They were mostly stick figures, of course, but all of them were of her and her mother except the one she was working on now. Beside her were two taller figures with big smiles drawn with purple crayon. 

“Hi Makayla.” He greeted softly. It was like he didn’t know how to interact with a child anymore. How could a person whose height barely reached his knee make him so nervous? She looked up from her drawing, her eyes bright and curious. 

“Hi Sam. Are you my dad?” She said it so frankly that it took him off guard. You appeared in the doorway. 

“Makayla.” You scolded. Sam held up a hand to stop you. 

“No, it’s fine.” He took a deep breath and gave Makayla a smile. “Yeah, sweetheart, I’m your…” He looked over at you and you just gave him a reassuring nod. “I’m your dad.” If he hadn’t been paying attention, this four year old would have tackled him to the floor. 

Makayla threw her arms around his neck and Sam had to hold her up so she wouldn’t fall. His arms wrapped around her gently, like he was afraid he’d crush her. The two just sat there for longer than you thought Makayla was capable. She was always running and jumping and fidgeting. But in her dad’s arms, she didn’t squirm. Your heart swelled at the sight. Sam had his eyes closed to try and keep from crying, but a tear still slipped down his cheek. 

“You must be Sam.” Naomi appeared in the doorway, cleaning off a machete. For a moment, you almost forgot who you all were. 

“He’s my dad!” Makayla squealed happily. Sam stood, using one arm to keep her up and holding out his other hand to shake Naomi’s. 

“Sam Winchester.” She shook his hand with a smirk. 

“Oh honey, I know all about you.” Sam’s eyes darted over to you and you could have sworn that he gave you a smug smile. 

“We should probably be going.” You thanked Naomi and grabbed Makayla’s things. She clung to Sam all the way out to the car. You saw something flash in Dean’s eyes, but you weren’t sure what. You threw Kayla’s things in the back. “Wait, I almost forgot.” You ran back to Naomi’s car and grabbed the car seat. Dean cast you an annoyed look. 

“Dean, she’s four.” Sam exclaimed. 

“Okay, okay.” The older Winchester huffed. You could tell he was just being ornery for the sake of it. Sam pried Makayla off of him and buckled her in. You slid in the seat next to her. 

“Alright, I’ve already scouted a motel in Lebanon that isn’t far from you guys.” You started. Sam turned around. 

“What are you talking about? You’re staying with us.” The look on his face didn’t exactly make you want to argue. 

“You don’t have to do that-”

“As much as I dislike you, I’ve got to agree with Sam.” Dean glanced at you in the mirror. “The safest place for that little girl is the bunker.” You knew they were right. You weren’t super excited to explain the situation to their not-dead mother, but as long as Kayla was safe, it didn’t matter. 

“Uncle Dean?” Makayla chimed. Dean’s eyes widened, the title giving him a weird feeling. 

“Uhh, yeah?” 

“Can you play Flatwheat Macaroni?” Both Winchesters looked extremely confused. You sighed. 

“She means Fleetwood Mac.” You could see Dean slightly smile. 

“I like her.”

-

After a very eventful day, Makayla was asleep by the time you got to the bunker. Sam carried her inside and you grabbed your bags. Inside, you could hear Mary talking to someone. You knew that monotone voice anywhere. 

“Cas?” You dropped the bags on the floor and rushed into the library. There stood your favorite trench-coat wearing angel. Mary crossed her arms, still giving you a suspicious glare. You ran to Cas and crashed into him with a hug. 

“Dean said I’m not supposed to like you anymore.” He hesitated to hug you back, but slowly, his arms wrapped around you. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, announcing that he was going to take a shower. 

“I missed you Castiel.” You beamed. Sam tapped you on the shoulder. 

“I’m going to take her to your room.” He whispered. Mary’s expression softened as she looked at the little girl in her son’s arms. 

“Sam, who is this?” 

“I, um, I’ll explain when I come back.” He said, grabbing your bags with his free hand and finding your room. Cas looked curiously at you and Mary sat down, pointing to the chair across from her. 

“Sit.” She ordered. You obeyed. Honestly, she was more terrifying than the vamps. Mary placed her hands on the table. “Look, I don’t know who you are or what you are doing here, but I know that something happened between you and my boys.” 

“Mary, uh, Mrs. Winchester- ma’am,” You stuttered. “I can explain-”

“I just need to know one thing.” Again, her expression changed to a gentler curiosity. “Do I have a granddaughter?” Cas’ eyes went wide and he stared down at you. 

“Yes.” Sam answered, coming back into the room. “Makayla is my daughter.” 

“How long have you known?” Mary asked. How much had she missed?

“About three hours.” 

“Sam and I were together about five years ago. I…” You closed your eyes, not sure if you could face her for this part, “I left and I found out I was pregnant. I’ve spent the last four years trying to raise her alone.” 

“What do you mean you left?” Mama Bear was starting to resurface and Sam put a hand on her shoulder to settle her down. 

“It’s okay, mom.” But you could tell he was lying. “It was a long time ago.” 

“I need a minute to just… absorb all of this.” Mary sighed and retreated to her room. Cas stood awkwardly beside you, the silence growing more and more uncomfortable by the second. Sam looked at the angel and then pointedly looked at the door. It took a second for Cas to catch on. 

“Oh… I should go and do some… angel things.” You couldn’t help but laugh at his complete inability to be subtle. Damn, you’d missed him. Your amusement instantly dissolved when you looked back at Sam. He didn’t look angry, which was somehow so much worse. 

“I’m sorry it had to be like this.” You would give anything to keep from hurting him. 

“It never had to be like this, Y/N.” He sighed, sitting across the table from you. “I went five years never knowing why you left. And now you turn up and reveal that I have a daughter? Just… tell me why.” You were actually taken aback. Dean never told him. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Sam.” 

“Like hell it doesn’t!” He exclaimed. “Y/N, you just vanished. No note. No phone call. Nothing. You were just gone.” 

“I left because I loved you.” You watched his face just contort with more pain and confusion. He pushed away from the table. 

“You know what? I can’t do this right now.” He ran a hand down his face with an exasperated sigh. “I’m going to check in on Kayla and then I’m going to bed.” He was absolutely exhausted, but he knew he would just lay in bed and stare at the wall for a few hours before trying to lose himself in some lore. He left without another word.

Five Years Ago

Sam was in a better mood today. A much better mood. He laced his fingers with his while his other hand rested against your bare thigh. Dean had spent the morning driving around town. He figured the two of you could use some alone time. You were grateful. You wanted Sam to hold you, to kiss you and touch you just one last time. 

You couldn’t stay. You knew eventually, he would see it too. He would figure out that you weren’t what he wanted and you would just end up alone and heartbroken. At least now, it was on your terms. 

“Dean will probably be back soon.” Sam sighed, kissing your cheek. “Him and I are checking up on some intel on a possible case. You want to come?” You stretched, lounging comfortably in his warm embrace. 

“I think I’m going to take the day off.” You would spend it packing, not that you had much to take. You kissed him fervently, wanting to savor the feeling for as long as you could. Sam climbed out of bed and gathered up his clothes. Once he was dressed, he started towards the door. “Hey Sam.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I love you.” You smiled, trying to hide the sadness in your eyes. Sam just beamed. 

“I love you too. I’ll see you soon.” With a giant grin on his face, he left. You were gone before he got back.

-

Continue to Part Three

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto;

Supernatural: @desimarie12; @deandreamernp; @vicmc624​; @halesandy​ @livshaes​;  @d-whinchestergirl87​

Sam Winchester: @theamuz​ 

Makayla Series: @rhiannon-the-troublemaker​; @hoboal87​

[abcreid]

Wrong  Choice Ruins Everything (2)

Spencer Reid x Reader

Hey guys this is me posting a new story since June last year. I’m sorry for whoever wait for me to update something and sorry for the bad english. i might forgot some vocabs and ending up using the common word over and over. but i hope you enjoy! Inspires from Season 15 Episode 06 - Date Night.

Contains of Spoiler if you haven’t watch the episode.

Part 1

Masterlist

-

“Hey what’s up?” That was the first question he askes when he picked up his call. Emily perhaps. “All right i’ll be right in.” “Uh-huh. All right. Understood.”

He hung up the call, turn back facing you eating the pancake you made in the tiny kitchen in your and Spencer’s apartment. Judging by his face, something wrong happened at BAU. “What happen? New case?”

“Yup.” He took his coat and kissed my forehead. “I gotta go.” Then he kissed your big tummy. Well actually he tried to kissed you and his soon to be daughter. You’re 8 months pregnant and you took your sabbatical because you weren’t in shape to be a field agent anf lately you felt more tired than you ever be. And now you just sitting silently at home waiting for your husband to come home.

“Call me when you get there. Say hi for everyone okay?” Spencer smiled and closed the door behind him. You sighed. You really missed being at BAU but your body couldn’t take any fatigue or you fainted.

Meanwhile at BAU, Spencer walked in hurry to brief room and met Rossi and Emily. “Catch me up.”

“Early this morning, Garcia got an email from an anonymous server.” She pointing remote to the monitor and the picture of a woman between an old man and a young girl. “She’s not obscuring her face, telling us she’s got nothing to hide.”

“Any ideas on the victims or unsub?” Spencer asked.

“No, Only the unsub's demand. That we release Catherine Adams in 24 hours.” Emily handed him files of Cat Adams. “I'm having her transferred here for questioning, but we have no illusions. This is just a game to her. We know that. “ She hesitated. “The question is, do we want to play it or not?”

Right now, Spencer was speechless. He thought his life would be happy without anyone’s shadow.

The rest of the team gathered in front of the glass door to see Cat Adams being escourted to the interrogation room.

“She's a contract killer?” Simmons asked. Garcia nodded. “Yeah. But she’s much, much more than that, too.” ”She's a black widow. She preys on men she can seduce. She thrives on psychological seduction.” JJ added.

Tara explained more to Simmons. “She's one of the most dangerous criminals we've ever arrested, and she is obsessed with Reid. He's the only man to ever outsmart her.”

“Oh, and don’t forget the part that she’s YN cousin.” The way Garcia said it made Simmons gaped in disbelief. “Long short story Cat went missing for 10 years accorded to YN then Spencer tried to outsmart Cat and she got arrested, she met YN outside the restaurant. Bla bla bla she hated YN so bad and vice versa. OH and you remembered when Reid got arrested in Mexico when you were still in IRT? It was all Cat’s game to destroy YN and Spencer. I feel bad to YN. She’s very strong.”

“Did she knew about this?” Luke asked. Everyone just shrugged. “I can’t imagine being pregnant and this thing came up from nowhere. I hope she already knew it.”

at the same time, Spencer lean against the wall in the interrogating room facing the only Cat Adams, who tried to ruin his life multiple times.

Cat started to smirked. “Classic negotiating technique. First one who speaks loses, right?”

“You arranged the kidnapping of two people and you did it the same way you did it before, through a partner on the outside. But her demand, "release Cat Adams," that will never happen. So, tell me what you want right now, before I send you back to prison.” Spencer started to outraged.

“Calm down, Spencie. I would like to go on a date with you. I want to look pretty and i want to have fun.”

“The only date that I'll be there for is the one where they stick a needle in your vein.”

Then Cat laughed. “I hear a wedding bells right know. Did you hear it too?” Her eyes spotted a gold ring in his finger. “Is that a ring from 4 years ago? When you said you wanted me to kill your pregnant wife, do you still mean it until today?”

“How did you... don’t you ever dare to touch YN.” He yelled and slammed the door. He ran to the conference room and the theam already there to discuss about the case. “It has something to do with YN. I don’t want to burden her with all of this.”

-

An hour later YN was picked up by JJ and Simmons. They didn’t tell her the reason because they didn’t want to frightened her.

“YN,” Spencer greeted her at the elevator when it reached level 6. “I’m sorry to involved you but this is important.” He lead you to the conference room and you could see a familiar picture at the monitor. “Do you recognice those people on that picture?”

You frowned. Not because you angry or something, but you confused. “Yeah, that’s... uh... George on the left and i think she’s her daughter Millie. And i had no idea who’s the girl between them.” You can read Spencer’s face that he need more explication. “They’re Catherine’s relatives from his dad. Wait, is this something to do with her? What happened? Did she tried to hurt them?

You started to panicked and Spencer hugged you. “Don’t worry honey, everything is controlled.”

“Do you know her?” Garcia came from nowhere and gave you a flyer.

“That was Susan, her mom. What the hell?” You pulled out from his hug and smelled something suspicious. “Tell me what is going on or i will walked by myself to where Catherine is.”

Spencer explained everything he could while Garcia held youd shoulders. You breathed heavily and tried to processed everthing Spencer said. JJ offered you mineral water and you drank it.

“I let you twice near that hit woman, Spencer. That Mexico event was really hit me hard.” Your tears start to fall from your eyes. “I want to see her now.”

“YN, YN please listen to me,” Garcia interupped you. “You are 8 months pregnant and it much bigger than watermelon sweety. You have to rest and you can’t be stressfull and i don’t want something happen to my beautiful god daughter.”

Emily finally let you to see Cat.

You opened the door and saw her smirked.

“That belly is very big, YN.” Her glare really want to make you puke. “So you are the pregnant wife Spencie told me 4 years ago at Harry & Glenn’s Grill and Bar.”

“What are you up to? You really sacrificed your family for your own sake. Sound really desperate at the end of your life.” You pull the chair and sit. “You were manipulative, right at 14 years ago, you convinced me to steal money from your dad and i did it. You were vengeful to your ex’s new girlfriend and you almost killed her. Just like what you did to Spencer in Mexico. We were months away of getting married and somehow you at the prison knew shit and tried to tear us apart by made Spencer went to jail, then made someone kidnapped my mother in law. And now, you really want to take away my husband, don’t you? Why you didn’t try harder... like kidnapped me, tortured me, or even killed me?”

She silenced for a while. “I would never do that to you. I didn’t want to hurt Spencer either.” “You should tell Garcia to check her email.”

You went out and watched the video that sent to Garcia’s mail. 

“We have fewer than 12 hours left. I don't think she'll fire blanks again.” Emily worried. “If we give Cat what she wants, we can profile what she says on the date.” She looked at you begging. “She always trips up. She always reveals her Achilles heel. And she always does it with Spencer. Please YN, this is the only way.”

-

She held your husband’s arm and walked confidently to the lift. But before they reach the elevator, they stopped right in front of you who stood alone while holding your belly. Cat signed him and he took of the ring off his finger and handed it to you.

“Don’t wait up.” Then they entered the elevator leaving you crying.

tags:  @chocok22 , @cynbx, @literallyprentissstwin, @literallyreid, @princessjellyfishbitch, @eideticreid, @saltedfire, @everyday-imfangirling, @stories-you-wont-hear, @dontshootmespence, @pandedios-carli @spencerreiddaily @spencerreidreads @spence-imagines @reid-effect @lil-loki @bloodylollipopkid @starsshines-blog @photogrxphinggg @queenofthehobos @twosaylorghosts @yukitsubute @thatwrestlingfan91 @qu3n-elizab3th @romee125 @scatchia@nomajdetective @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @xocriminal-minds-imaginesxo @supernatural-dolan

[verai-marcel]

The Pure Taste of You (RDR2 Fanfic, Incubus!Arthur x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: After the greatest night of your life, you wake up to a promise. As time goes on, do you still believe in that promise? How far will you go to find out?

Author’s Notes: The Sweet Taste of You won the poll for getting a sequel fic; this starts right after you wake up.

Tags: spoilers for chapter 4 onwards, incubus Arthur, high honor Arthur, emotions or some shit, angst, smut, HEA

AO3 link is here, sweetheart.

Word Count: 4466

--------------------

You awoke to someone stroking your head, a soft song wafting through the air. There were no words, but it sounded like a sweet melody, one that felt like love and devotion. Blinking your eyes as you got accustomed to the morning sun, you turned your head towards the voice.

Arthur was sitting on the edge of your bed, fully clothed, as if he were waiting for you to wake up.

“G’mornin’, darlin’.”

“Morning, Arthur,” you said, your voice cracking a little. “Are you leaving?”

He nodded, looking solemn. This got your attention, so you sat up in bed and gave him your full attention.

“I want you to know that I have e’rey intention of making you mine. I’ll be doin’ some jobs that take me farther away, but I will come back to you.” He leaned in to kiss your forehead, cupping your cheek in his big, warm hand. “But if two months pass and I ain’t back, well…”

You grabbed his hand. “I don’t want to think about that. I’ll wait for you.”

He smiled. “Thank you,” he said reverently as he brought your hand to his lips, your promise to wait meaning the world to him.

***

It had been two months. At first, you got a letter every other day, with him telling you how he was doing, and usually the letter was accompanied by a sketch from him of a building or an animal, something to remind you of him. Then a few days would pass before you got another letter. Then a week.

Then nothing. A whole month passed with no contact. You hoped that he was too busy to get to a post office. But deep down, you had a sinking feeling, a dread so heavy it weighed down your heart.

The dreams didn’t help. Jungles and gunfire, running, always running, and a cough that racked you through to your very soul. Then a mountain cave, and a lot of anger and helplessness. But within all those swirling emotions was a strong feeling of purpose, like you were trying to reach for something, and you couldn’t give up that hope because it was the only thing keeping you going.

You weren’t one for believing in the supernatural, but your dreams were so vivid and yet very much not yours that you wondered if you were seeing things from Arthur’s side.

That only made you worry more.

***

His chest had never felt heavier. It hurt to move, to breathe, to even exist.

Yet despite his best efforts, he continued to do so, driven by just one thing.

He spoke a name in barely a whisper, so faint that even he thought he imagined it. The name carried on the wind, and he hoped and prayed like a fool that he would be forgiven.

***

You woke up in a cold sweat. You swear you heard Arthur whisper your name, and bolted upright in your bed, looking around, hoping it was him. Instead, your room was silent, as if to mock you for thinking he’d come back.

Five days ago, your head started to hurt. You thought maybe it was all the crying that had caused the pain. But you started to notice that whenever you walked in a certain direction, the pain ebbed, and whenever you walked in any other direction, the pain returned. The exact direction changed every day, but always, always, when you were going northwards, you felt better, as if you were being drawn somewhere.

Today, the pain was particularly bad. As the sun began to set, you looked out the window, and your head cleared for just a moment, long enough to hear something.

You heard your name.

“I’m going crazy,” you muttered to yourself, turning back to your work. Then the ache in your head spiked. You maneuvered yourself around quickly to face north, and you breathed slowly as the pounding lessened. 

This was insane. 

A thought came into your head and it evolved into an idea, then a fully-fledged plan. You were about to do something out of the ordinary, but you were sick of this headache, sick of worrying about Arthur, and sick of not doing anything about it.

You wanted to know.

After you finished the last of the linens, you ran home, pulled all of your saved cash out from under your mattress, and put together a day bag: some dried meat, a bread roll, a canteen of water, a scarf, and a small pistol that Arthur had left you for your protection. Leaving your place and practically running to the livery stable, you hoped that they would still be open this late.

You arrived just before they closed and breathed a sigh of relief.

***

After renting a horse, using your savings as collateral, you made your way north, following the road until your headache increased. Then you just went whichever way you needed to go, turning this way and that, off the paths, across streams, up and down the rocky hillsides. You were grateful that you grew up on a farm and knew how to handle a horse. Part of you missed that life, but if you hadn’t run away when you had, you’d be dead and you would have never met Arthur.

You shudder at what could have been.

The night passed by as you spent hours traveling in a strange direction that led you to a tall mountain in Ambarino just as the sun was rising. Your headache was almost gone, but your heart was racing. Why were you being led here? You looked around; halfway up the hillside, you could see people leaving on a path below, some carrying out dead men, as if some kind of battle had been waged here. You urged your horse away, not wanting to be stopped. You were so close to where you needed to be. You could feel it deep in your heart.

Making your way up the steep hillside, the soft light of dawn illuminating your path, you saw that the path was becoming too narrow for a horse, and hitched her on a tree nearby before starting the climb. Over rocks and boulders, you clambered and scrambled until you reached a flat area where your headache disappeared.

And your heart stopped.

“Arthur!”

***

His eyes could not open. He wanted to see, even if he knew he’d be disappointed. He knew she wasn’t here; there was no way for her to have found him, way up here in the mountains. He imagined her voice was tinged with worry as she yelled his name. Were her cries getting louder? Maybe he was in hell, to be forever tortured by the voice of his beloved, unable to see her, touch her, taste her.

He would deserve it, for all that he had done.

Arthur’s chest rattled, desperately trying to breathe. He had gone for too long without feeding. The doctor had told him he had tuberculosis, but he knew what this was. Wasting away from the inside without the love he needed to survive, but he had no time to go to her. 

No time. 

There was no time.

He felt a hand on his. Felt a drop of water on his dry lips, salty and sad. Still, he could not open his eyes.

Then a kiss.

As if pure sunlight was being poured into his mouth, he gasped. 

And he drank.

And drank.

***

At first his lips were cold as you kissed him, finding your darling Arthur on this cold mountainside, his face pale, his features sunken. You poured all of your love into this one final kiss, wanting him to know how much you cared, even if you had only known him for a short time. 

So when his lips moved against yours and became warm under your touch, you gave him everything. You hoped for a miracle as you kissed him more and more.

You grew tired. Your arms wrapped around his body, as if to protect him from the world while you kept kissing him.

You became cold, so you snuggled closer to him as his body grew warmer.

You opened your eyes at the same time he opened his.

He rasped your name and smiled.

You smiled back.

And then you saw no more.

***

You awoke in a bed. Looking around, you figured you were in some kind of cabin. The birds chirping outside, the sound of the wind through the trees, and the trickle of water nearby was so idyllic that you almost forgot how you got here.

In fact, you had no recollection of how you got here.

Stumbling out of bed, you noted you were wearing a sheer sleeping gown, soft and comfortable. You felt like a sleeping princess as you carefully made your way towards the front door, the wood floor cold against your bare feet. You felt weak, every breath you took seemed to rattle in your rib cage, and your stomach growled with hunger. Seeing an apple on the table next to the small kitchen, you grabbed it and devoured it as you finally stepped outside.

The view that greeted you was like out of a dream. A peaceful lake, the mountains, the forest, all framed by a sky so blue that it looked like a painting. 

And on the shore of that lake stood Arthur, fishing peacefully, a look of concentration on his face. You watched as he caught a fish, pulling it out of the water and considering it for a few moments before mumbling, “Sorry, little guy. I’ll let you grow a bit more.”

He unhooked the little fish and tossed it back into the lake. Watching it swim away, he put new bait on his fishing hook and cast his line out, wedging the rod between some rocks before turning around.

He stopped short when he saw you.

Arthur called your name, almost in disbelief.

Then he ran to you.

“You shouldn’t be out here, you’ll catch a cold,” he fussed, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders to ward off the chilly mountain air.

“Arthur, what happened?”

He stepped away from you, one hand gripping his other arm, shame radiating from his posture.

You stepped closer. “Arthur. Tell me.”

He sighed and let go of his arm. “I… I was dyin’.”

You gasped but stayed quiet to let him continue.

“You saved me, darlin’. Fer that, you have gratitude. Forever.” He took your hands in his. “But I have to tell you somethin’. It’ll sound insane. But I tell you, it’s true.” 

He took a deep breath.

“I’m a demon.”

You cocked your head at him. “Arthur, you’re not-”

“Let me explain.” He walked over to a large log, one that spanned at least twenty feet. He squatted down and lifted it up with ease. 

Even you had to admit that no regular human could lift a log of that size with that little effort.

Putting the log back down, he walked back to you. “To be clear, I’m only half.”

“Half?”

“My mother. She was a succubus. Fell in love with my father, a human. Though he was more a demon than she was. She was sweet, kind, gentle. He… weren’t.”

You were a little familiar with the term. From what you could recall, a succubus was a sex demon. Which meant he was half a sex demon.

“How did I save you?”

“You kissed me. Filled me with yer love.” He held your hands again, bringing them to his lips and closing his eyes. “But I took too much, drained you. I couldn’t control myself, I was so weak.”

He opened his eyes and looked so sad, so guilty. “I shouldn’t keep you to myself. If I lose control again, I…” Looking away from you, he trailed off, taking a shuddering breath, unable to even consider the consequences. Then he suddenly turned back to you, his eyes hardened with determination. “You can’t stay with me. I’m just a danger to you.”

You were shocked. But you could tell from the guilt he wore on his shoulder that he was blaming himself for extraordinary circumstances. “I wasn’t in danger the first time you were with me, was I?”

“No, no, I was in control then.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I need to feed off yer, uh, attraction to me. That, uh, energy, is what keeps me alive.” He gestured with his hands. “If I’m too hungry, I might feed too much, and that’s what happened to ya.”

You pondered his words for a few moments before asking him one simple question. 

"If I leave you, will you die?" 

He was silent. 

"Arthur."

He would not speak; he only looked away from your piercing glare. That was enough of an answer on its own. 

"I won't leave you," you said firmly. 

"But—"

"No buts," you interrupted, walking towards him. "I can't get you out of my system, and clearly neither can you."

He retreated away, stepping backwards into the lake, his boots crunching in the river gravel with every step. 

Still you followed him, into the ice cold water. 

"Darlin', don't come in here, you'll get cold," he said in a panic, immediately rushing towards you, taking you by your arms and pushing you out of the water.

You dug your feet in and grabbed his arms, pushing back at him. "I'll go where I want." Looking up at him determinedly, you lowered your voice. "I want to be with you, Arthur."

A moment passed, and then another and another as Arthur stared at you, emotions flying through his eyes like lightning across the sky. He finally leaned in, wrapped his arms around you, picked you up, and carried you back to the shoreline. He refused to put you down when you began to wriggle out of his grip. "You absolutely sure, sweetheart?"

"As sure as the sun is in the sky, my dear."

He smiled at you, his eyes shimmering with emotion. 

***

A week passed in rustic bliss as you recuperated. Arthur hunted and sold pelts in town to make money while you rested or cleaned around the house or fished while he was away. He was never too far, but whenever he was gone, he always asked that you stay inside in case of predators. You usually did as he asked, but as you regained your energy and got tired of being cooped up in the cabin, you would sit outside on the dock and fish during the early mornings.

Arthur knew you had not listened to his request when you had grilled fish for dinner, but he didn’t say anything. He only gave you a disapproving look, while you always just smiled innocently at him. 

As the second week in the cabin began, you noticed that Arthur was starting to look a bit pale. After he returned from a day hunting, you walked up to him and put his face between your hands.

"Arthur, do you need… Me?"

He looked at you and then looked away, conflicted. "I'll be fine."

You shook your head at him and hugged him tight. After a few moments, he wrapped his arms around you. Looking up at him, you cupped his cheek.

"Kiss me," you whispered.

He swallowed, leaned down, and gave you the most chaste kiss. 

"More, Arthur!" you whined. 

"Darlin'—" 

"Don't treat me like I'm made of glass, Mr. Morgan. I've been resting for an entire week. I feel great.” You poked his chest with a finger. “You need to trust me.”

“Alright, alright,” he relented. “I just… I can’t get that image out of my mind, you lying on the ground, pale as death.”

“Then let’s get a different image in your head, shall we?”

You pushed him onto the bed and straddled him.

“What’re you doin’?”

“Hush. Just enjoy.” You removed your clothes slowly, gyrating your hips in a slow circle as he watched you, his eyes darkening with every bit of flesh revealed. He couldn’t stop his body from reacting to your almost nude form, gripping the edge of the bed and breathing heavily.

You got up just long enough to shimmy out of your pants and drawers before you lay on top of him and kissed his nose. “Will you make love to me, Arthur?”

“Of course, my heart,” he said, his voice straining under the weight of his emotions. He wrapped his arms around your waist and held you close, pressing his lips against your skin and simply breathing in your scent.

You winked at him as you pushed yourself up and began to unbutton his shirt. He watched with a lazy smile as you reached the last button and tugged it off his shoulders, revealing his toned biceps. He sat up and removed the rest of his shirt as you started working on the buttons of his jeans. 

Arthur lay back down and lifted his hips as you pulled off his pants and his short drawers, wanting to see him gloriously naked. He was beautiful with his scars marking his skin, telling a story of a rough life, smoothed over with time. The trail of hair from his chest went down his stomach and lower, leading you to his thick shaft. 

You gently brushed your fingers along the length of him, looking up to see his reaction. Watching the heat in his eyes ignite as you stroked him, you gave him a cheeky grin before you wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock. 

"Oh lord, darlin'," Arthur moaned, his head lolling back as he tried to keep his hips from jerking upwards into the warmth of your mouth. “Where'd you learn that?"

You just winked. You'd tell him later. Right now, you just licked him slowly from base to tip before engulfing him in your mouth. 

Arthur's strangled cry of pleasure made you hum happily as you languidly lapped at his sensitive skin. His hands rested on your head, petting you lovingly as you explored him, wrapping your lips around him and sucking hard. 

A litany of creative curses escaped him as he grabbed your head and thrust up into your mouth, mindlessly giving into his lust. When you pushed down on his thighs and made a surprised squeal, he quickly let you go and breathed heavily. 

"Git up here," he growled, sitting up and pulling you into his lap. "I need to be inside of you."

Straddling his thighs, you slowly lowered yourself onto his cock, nearly crying with relief as you felt that carnal connection, rejoicing in that feeling of being filled up by him.

You moaned his name as he grabbed your hips and started to move you up and down, urging you faster and faster. You rode him hard as he wantonly chased down his pleasure. Feeling yourself flying towards the brink of an ecstatic high, you held Arthur’s face and pulled him towards you.

“Dar—”

You didn’t let him finish; you kissed him almost violently, pouring your love into him, forcing him to take all of your pent-up lust. He swallowed and moaned, kissing you back, and you felt a returning energy that pushed you over the edge and made you fly. The kiss broke as the two of you went over the edge of ecstasy together, arms holding each other tight as your hips spasmed, wringing out every last drop of his essence as he pumped upwards into you, gasping your name and pressing his forehead against yours.

After his last thrust, Arthur held you tightly against him, catching his breath while you caught yours.

“That… that was amazin’,” he finally said to you.

“Will it always be like that?” you asked.

“I hope so,” he said, a wry smile on his face.

You pulled back to look at his face. The color had returned to his cheeks and his eyes seemed much less sunken. You stroked his cheek gently. “You look better.”

“How’re you feeling’?” he said, his brows furrowing in concern.

“Never better.” You rolled your hips and smiled when he moaned, his cock hardening inside of you once more. “I could go for a round two.”

“You cheeky girl,” Arthur said while laughing, rolling over to make love to you until the two of you fell asleep in each other’s arms.

***

“So where’d you learn that trick?”

“What trick?” you asked around a mouthful of biscuit. 

“You know. The one where you put yer lips around my…” He gestured towards his lower region.

You laughed. “You’re not going to like the answer.”

“Jus’ tell me.”

You got up from the kitchen table, taking your plate back to the sink so you wouldn’t have to face him. “I, um, read your mother’s journal.”

You heard a fork drop onto a plate. Turning around, you saw Arthur looking at you, aghast.

“I’m sorry!”

“No, that ain’t… you don’t hafta apologize,” he quickly corrected. “I’ve read her journal. I never saw nothin’ like that.”

Your eyebrow raised. As you watched, Arthur went to grab the journal and returned to stand next to you, flipping through the pages.

“There, there it is,” you said, pointing at one of the pages towards the end of the journal.

“Huh? These’re blank, darlin’,” Arthur said.

You blinked. You looked up at him, confused. Then you looked down at the page he had flipped to, and sure as day, you saw a flowing script with detailed descriptions of sexual acts that drove men wild. It even had illustrations. 

“Arthur… where do the blank pages start for you?”

He flipped to a page about ten sheets away from the end. “Right here.”

Taking the journal in your hands, you started to read the text. You admit, you had started at the end and stopped when you saw the lewd artwork and never read before that part.

“It says, ‘To the one who captures the heart of an incubus.’” You looked up at Arthur, who looked bewildered, his jaw hanging slightly open. You continued. “‘Only you can read these last pages, because it holds things that I’m sure a son does not want to hear from his mother. But I want you to know my boy is special; even though he is half a creature of the night, his soul is all human. Please cherish him, care for him, and know that if he gives you his heart, he will give it all to you, and not an ounce less.’”

You looked up to the ceiling, trying not to cry, but glancing at Arthur, whose eyes were glistening with unshed tears, you let a few drops fall.

“That all it says?” he asked quietly.

“Um, well… the rest says, ‘On the following pages, I’ve shared my knowledge of carnal acts that are sure to enrich your life. But please don’t tell my son, as I am sure he will burst from shame if he knew his dear mother has intimate knowledge of such things.’” You glanced back at Arthur. “Whoops. I guess I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

Arthur choked back a laugh. “Ma, you never cease to amaze me,” he rasped as he looked up at the ceiling.

You looked at Arthur, who was halfway in tears, halfway laughing. “So… should I not use her techniques?”

He shuddered. “Please don’t call them ‘her’ techniques,” he grumbled

You laughed wholeheartedly. “Of course. They’re my techniques now, after all.”

He smiled at you; you smiled back. As he pulled you into his arms, you quietly thanked his mother for bringing Arthur into the world.

***

The spring months had passed in a blink of an eye as you and Arthur lived together in this small cabin, unbothered by anyone for the most part. The occasional traveler or merchant would go by on the road in the distance, but most days, the only person you saw was Arthur.

You didn’t mind one bit.

You still had the horse you rented; at this point, you figured the horse was a purchase and your savings long gone. Arthur had taken to him quite well, and he would take Ol’Trigger out to go hunting. He wasn’t looking too healthy when you rented him, but somehow, with all this clean mountain air and fresh grass, he was growing strong. 

The sun was beginning to set on this first day of summer when you heard Arthur and Ol'Trigger coming back from a day of selling furs to various traders. 

"There you are, my sweet," Arthur said with a big grin on his face as you approached. He held out his arms. 

"You're probably smelly from being out all day," you groused, but you still stepped into the circle of his arms and held him tightly. 

He leaned down and gave you a chaste peck on the lips. "Would you take a walk with me, darlin'?" 

"Sure," you answered easily. The two of you would often walk up the nearby mountain trail to an overlook where you could see a fantastic view of the whole lake. You knew you would always love this sight; it was so tranquil and beautiful, and every day the sun hit the water just a little bit differently. 

The two of you walked in silence, hand in hand, as the trees rustled and the birds chirped their goodbyes to the daylight. As you reached the overlook, you gasped. The solstice sunset dyed the world a rich red and gold, reflected on the lake like a mirror to the sky. 

"I could never get tired of this view," you said in awe. 

"Me either," Arthur said in a hushed tone. 

You turned to find him gazing at you, a small smile on his face. You smiled shyly back at him. "Oh, you're too nice to me." 

Without saying a word, he let go of your hand for a moment and got down on one knee. 

"Ar-Arthur?" 

Pulling out a ring that sparkled in the light, he looked up at you, his eyes showing a bit of vulnerability. He said your name so seriously that you stood up just a little straighter. 

"I love you. More than anythin’. It would mean the world to me if you did me the greatest honor." He took a deep breath. "Will ya marry me?" 

Tears had already started flowing the moment he pulled out the ring. But his earnest speech just filled your heart with joy. 

"Of course I'll marry you!" you exclaimed.

He grinned and stood up, took your hand, and slipped the gorgeous ring onto your finger. Then he leaned down and kissed you, sweet and unafraid, full of love.

As the sun set over the horizon, you thought that today, of all days, was the most perfect one of all.

--------------------

End Notes: I was deep in my feels, fam. So a bit of lore: Arthur is the only one who can't read the text in the back of the book; it was written with enchanted ink made with a drop of Arthur's blood when he was a child. Also the bonding that Arthur & Reader have is because Arthur claimed her last time they fucked. I know this sequel was more plot than porn, but I still hope you enjoyed it!

[nayutai]

Sleep Walker

⇢ Genre fluff (this nearly killed Jesus Christ fluff authors are powerful)

⇢ Pairing Jimin x OC

⇢ Word Count 4251

⇢ Summary Jimin finds himself wandering into a 24-hour coffee shop after his efforts to sleep have proved unsuccessful where he finds more than just the caffeine boost he needs to get through his day

⇢ Notes this goes out to my love bug @tae-tae-drives-me-kray​ 

Working the night shift at a 24-hour coffee shop makes for a very boring shift. Most of the customers clear out by the time that two o’clock rolls around and those who do pop in are on their way to their own early morning shifts and generally don’t stay long. They also don’t usually start arriving until at least 4:30. For Amira, this means that she can eat snacks and binge watch Supernatural until the day time people show up for the most part. At $11 an hour it’s a pretty cushy gig if you don’t mind the fucked up sleep schedule. 

The sound of the bell above the door tinkling loudly just before three sends Amira flying from her perch on a stool behind the counter. Whoever it is giggles melodically at the flurry of creative curses that come out of her mouth as she rises to your feet dramatically. She gives them a dirty look that softens at the way their eyes twinkle even in the low light of the cafe. 

“Are you okay?” At least they have the decency to ask about her well-being after nearly giving her a heart attack. The lower half of their face is covered in a mask and a baseball cap sits low on his head. If it weren’t for the fact that this person’s eyes look so friendly she’d be standing a lot closer to the silent alarm and the baseball bat that her manager allows her to store under the counter. 

“Just peachy for someone who was on the verge of death. What would you like to order?” He rattles off the name of some frappuccino thing with an assload of ingredients and Amira has the sudden urge to beat her head against the granite countertop. Being that she works night shift, most of her barista knowledge circled the memory drain a long time ago due to the fact that the most complicated thing the early morning demographic orders is flavored iced coffee. A walk in the park compared to the science experiments that the daytime crew is required to mix up throughout the day.

“I’m gonna keep it real with you, chief. I forgot how to make this but I don’t have the authorization to do refunds so if it’s bad you’re stuck with it.”

“At this point, it could be dishwater and I’d drink it as long as it’s got caffeine.” 

And yet he ordered one of the froo froo drinks Amira thinks to herself. Those drinks have the least amount of caffeine out of everything on the menu. He’ll be asleep before he even finishes his drink.

“Well if caffeine is what you need, this drink isn’t what you want. I’ve got just the thing though.” You put away the clear cup for the frappucino with his consent and reach for a regular coffee cup. “What’s your name? I know you’re the only one here but it’s against store policy for any cup to leave this hellhole without a name on it.” He seems to panic at the thought of giving up his name, a wary look morphing his gaze. Her brows creases as she watches him contemplate how he wants to answer what she thinks is a very simple question.

“Jimin...” He says after a minute.

“Ha, that’s cool. There’s a guy in BTS with the same-“ Amira’s hand freezes halfway through writing his name as her drowsy brain starts connecting some very important dots. The news lady on channel six had said they’d be in town this weekend but never in a million years did she expect something like this to happen. She peeks at him from beneath her lashes. He looks ready to bolt out the door at the slightest provocation so she do her absolute best to remain calm for his sake. 

Alright, sis you can do this. Just stay cool, calm, and collected. Mama ain’t raise a loser you can do this.

Jimin visibly relaxes when Amira starts writing again and turns to start making his drink. It’s a special concoction she makes for her fellow graveyard peeps. It’s strong enough to knock a donkey on its ass which is why it’s such a hit. One of her regulars, a long haul trucker, tells Amira all the time that he doesn’t know how he’d make it through his long drives without the liquid defibrillator that he practically orders by the gallon. Definitely doesn’t seem safe but he’s got an incredible driving record and he always brings her a fistful of the soft peppermint candies she’s partial to. 

“Thank you for not freaking out. I’m not really supposed to be here.” Jimin mumbles as he accepts his drink. He loves interacting with fans but not at two a.m when he’s barely able to stand up from his lack of sleep. 

“I gathered as much. Not many global superstars stroll through here at this hour or at all really.” Amira give him a smile that she hopes puts him at ease and, judging by the way his lips turn up a bit, it may have worked. 

“Couldn’t sleep and we’ve got interviews all day so at this point I don’t have time to sleep hence the desperate need for caffeine.” He takes a cautious sip of the drink in his hand. She wasn’t kidding when she said that it would help. The caffeine hits his veins with the force of a speeding bullet train and Jimin already feels more alert just a few sips in.

Somehow, talking about his sleep troubles snowballs into a conversation about Disney movies and why Maleficent is the baddest bitch in the Disney realm when the blaring of his ringtone cuts her rant short. A heavy sigh escapes him at the interruption. He’d much rather listen to the adorable barista in front of him continue her impassioned argument, but duty calls. 

“Guess that’s my cue. Thank you for the drink and the company.”

“No problem! If that shit starts fucking with your heart rate though you did not get it here. I refuse to be attacked by your twitter army for giving you heart palpitations. I ain’t built for that type of guerilla warfare.” Jimin full on belly laughs, nearly dropping the rest of his drink in the process. He couldn’t get rid of the goofy smile on his face even if he wanted to. 

He grips the door handle in his hand but something is holding him back. Something feels unfinished and his feet refuse to move any further until that changes. Jimin turns around to see the source of his frozen feet standing behind the counter again, staring at his still form curiously. Before he can stop himself, Jimin crosses the short distance, snatching the pen stuck to the top of her apron to scribble his phone number on a nearby napkin. The gagging noises she makes when she realize what he’s just done make him feel justified in his rash decision. This time when he backs away, the smile on his face is one of mischief.

“Don’t let this be the last time I talk to you or I’ll never forgive you.” Jimin’s steps feel lighter as he treks back to the hotel to face the wrath of his manager. He hopes desperately that she texts him later. A frown replaces the grin behind his face mask at the prospect of his new crush not contacting him after tonight. His steps falter slightly as he processes the fact that he just met her not even a full hour ago and has already developed a full-fledged crush on her. Oh, Amira, so powerful and yet so unaware of it.

[Amira]: best friend

[Amira]: rise from the dead

[Amira]: I have a story to tell and before you even ask no it can’t wait until a decent hour

[Pomegranate]: if this doesn’t involve you meeting BTS or you hitting the lottery and paying off my crippling student loan debt I promise I don’t care 

[Amira]: ….sometimes I swear you’re psychic

[Pomegranate]: BITCH DID YOU HIT THE LOTTO????? 

[Pomegranate]: I BEEN YOUR BEST FRIEND FOR 13 YEARS DON’T FORGET ABOUT ME

[Amira]: shut up I didn’t hit the lottery but I did meet someone from BTS…

[Amira]: Jimin to be more specific

Incoming call from Pomegranate

“Well look what we have here. A traitor.” Jimin rolls his eyes at Taehyung’s dramatics but his best friend and bandmate is having none of it. “How dare you go traipsing off into the concrete jungle without me? We’re supposed to cause mayhem together and you left my ass in the middle of the night like I’m some side chick.”

“It’s really not this deep, Tae.”

“To you. Which is exactly why I snitched to Sejin.” Of course, Taehyung was the one to rat him out to their manager. He could be quite vengeful when he felt that he’d been wronged and obviously he took not being invited on his late night coffee hunt as a personal affront. The Capricorn energy coursing through his veins absolutely could not let that stand.

Jimin opens his mouth to respond when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He ignores it for the sake of pacifying Taehyung but when it vibrates twice more his curiosity gets the best of him. 

[Unknown]: uhhhh hi? 

[Unknown]: ew that was awkward as hell pls forgive me

[Unknown]: shit I didn’t even tell you who I am wow anyways this is the barista you tried to kill earlier also known as Amira

Jimin snorts at Amira’s messages which piques Taehyung’s interest in a major way. He can’t recall a time when his friend has ever looked so disgustingly happy over a text message from anybody. Just as he’s about to lean over to look at the screen, Jimin shoves the sleek iPhone right in his face. He’s babbling on and on about how funny and cute this Amira person is which only serves to further confuse Taehyung.

“I just want you to know that none of that made sense to me.”

Taehyung is almost sorry that he asked as Jimin launches into an impassioned retelling of the beautiful girl that made him a drink that is sure to keep him up until the end of time. A slow smile spreads across Taehyung’s face as he connects the dots. Jimin has a crush. A big one. He can’t wait to tell the other members that their precious Jiminie has finally found someone that meets his incredibly high standards. Out of all the idols back home, both male and female, that have practically thrown themselves at Jimin’s chelsea boots and it’s a random cafe employee that manages to make him totally enraptured.

“So let me get this straight,” Amira’s eyes follow her best friend Cameren as she paces back and forth across her living room. “It’s a regular degular night at work until some guy in a mask walks in and scares the shit outta you. Lo and behold that guy is fucking Park Jimin from BTS and you make him drink that god awful elixir of the damned you insist on serving to people and he actually liked it?”

“Not just that.” She fishes the napkin with Jimin’s number on it out of the pocket of her sweatshirt and carefully unfolds it so that Cameren can see the string of digits scratched into the napkin. The creative string of curses that fly out her mouth would make most people blush but after more than a decade of impassioned screaming, Amira doesn’t even flinch. Her eyes widen comically though when she notices Cameren reaching forward as if to snatch the napkin out of her hand. She thanks God for gifting her with reflexes quick enough to keep it out of Cameren’s reach.

“Bitch! Let me see it.”

“No! He gave me this because he obviously trusted me not to pass it around and I don’t plan to disappoint my future husband this early in the game.” She replies indignantly. 

“Look at you. All delusional and shit but whatever I respect it.” Cameren declares as she props herself on the coffee table in front of her best friend. “So, did you text him?”

“Of course I did. Who do you think I am?” Cameren opens her mouth to respond with what is no doubt going to be some witty quip about exactly who she thinks Amira is, but she’s interrupted by the tell-tale ping of her phone receiving a text message. The shocked look on Cameren’s face is perfectly mirrored on Amira’s as she slowly picks her phone up from the couch cushion she’d sat it on. 

[Kristoff Hater]: you’re too adorable to be awkward

Amira sits frozen in place as she reads and rereads his message. There’s no way he just said that. There is absolutely no way in hell that the Park Jimin himself just called her adorable. Have the heavens finally opened up? Did God decide that today is the day that she secures the biggest win of all? She’s in such a state of shock that Amira doesn’t even notice Cameren trying to get her attention until she starts physically shaking her shoulder. Amira’s voice box is still refusing to function so she simply hand over her phone to let Cameren see the message for herself. Her friend’s answering shriek perfectly voices Amira’s own feelings.

“He’s typing again!” Cameren thrusts the phone back into Amira’s hands just in time for another message to appear on the screen but she quickly close the conversation when Jimin starts typing once more. It takes longer than expected but the tell-tale ping from her phone makes Amira’s  heart skip a beat at what he could possibly have said this time. 

[Kristoff Hater]: speaking of you being adorable I need a contact picture so go ahead and hand one over and no one gets hurt 

[Kristoff Hater]: or don’t because you’re an autonomous human being and that’s totally up to you but I would really appreciate a picture of your face because I think you’re you’re cute and wow I’m rambling over text which is super embarrassing so I’m going to stop typing now byeeeee

This time, Amira is the one screaming.

“It’s official. You scared her away.” Taehyung claps Jimin on the back from his spot behind him in the van. Jimin continues to stare dejectedly at the stagnant conversation with his mystery woman. It’s been hours since he’d went out on a limb and asked her for a picture with not even a hint of a response. He’d originally thought that he’d eventually get over it and go back to normal but now he’s not so sure.

“Leave him be, Tae.” Namjoon pipes up from Jimin’s left. “It’s important to fully feel and process your emotions no matter how depressing they are.”

“Oh, so now the wannabe philosopher is going to preach to me?” 

“It was probably too good to be true any-she texted me back!” 

[Coffee Almost Bae]: I’m so sorry 😭

[Coffee Almost Bae]: In the interest of total transparency I had a meltdown because you called me cute and I’ve spent the last fourteen hours trying to psych myself up to respond 

Jimin nearly melts into puddle of feelings right where he sits. This girl is entirely too cute for her own good and she doesn’t even realize it. His fingers start flying in response, but his frantic typing is interrupted by another message.

[Coffee Almost Bae]: I believe you asked for this {image attached}

He’d thought that Amira was cute when he’d first met her at the coffee shop but seeing her in this picture is making his heart race. She’s clearly at dinner with friends judging from the crowded table full of food behind her. He’s incredibly appreciative of the way her jeans snugly hug the hourglass frame that her work uniform hides. His eyes are then drawn upwards to her face and he finds himself getting lost in the sheer brilliance of her smile. Eyes bright with a playful energy. Jimin is sure he’s never seen anyone more captivating.

“Yeah I’m definitely in love.” He proudly shows off Amira’s picture to the rest of the group, relishing in the comments about how pretty she are. Jimin chooses to ignore Yoongi’s comment about how he wasn’t sure that she actually existed until he saw the picture. His heart flutters in his chest as he stares fondly at the picture on his screen. He’s so caught up in her beauty that he forgets that you have to actually reply to the text messages in order to keep a conversation going. Until his phone vibrates in his hand.

[Coffee Almost Bae]: OH MY GOD YOU THINK I’M UGLY DON’T YOU I KNEW THIS WAS A MISTAKE I HATE IT HERE 

Jimin’s eyes go wide as he realizes the unforeseen consequence that his awestruck staring has resulted in. The concerned questions from the other members roll off his back as he tries to fix the mess he made. The two extra concert tickets that he’d been holding for two of his friends suddenly come to mind. Frustrated with the way he keeps misspelling words in his haste, Jimin throws caution to the wind and hits the call button. He doesn’t know why he’s so desperate to fix this, especially since he just met this girl less than forty eight hours ago but he can’t deny the nerves coursing through him as he waits for Amira to answer the phone.

“Cameren, he thinks I’m ugly. I just know he does.” Amira whines and it’s nearly Cameren’s breaking point. She sighs frustratedly over the phone as she does her best not to yell at Amira for overthinking and sending herself into a panic. 

“This man saw you in an unforgiving barista uniform, bare-faced, at three in the morning and still somehow thought you were cute.” Cameren can hear Amira inhale to interrupt her but she powers through, giving her no option but to listen. “If he saw you looking like that then there’s now way he thought the picture you sent him was ugly so stop overreacting. He’s a fucking international superstar someone probably stopped him for an autograph or something. Or maybe he thinks you’re insane for losing your shit because he took more than five minutes to respond.”

On a more rational level, Amira knows that Cameren is right, but it’s not every day that a girl actually gets to live out their fantasy like this. So naturally, she’s insecure and full of nervous energy that is near impossible to get rid of. What if his sleep deprivation made him delirious? What if fully awake Jimin thinks he made a mistake? Cameren is still ranting when Amira’s phone beeps with another phone call. She pull the device away from her ear to see who it is and nearly choke on her own spit.

“He’s calling me! I gotta go.” She ends the call with Cameren and answer Jimin’s before her overactive nerves can convince her not to. The second Amira accepts the call, all that can be heard is Jimin apologizing profusely. Somewhere in there he mentions something about concert tickets and soundcheck and her brain decides to finally kick in to get some clarification.

When he finally starts speaking slow enough for her to understand him, Amira is stunned even further into silence. Front row tickets to their next concert with a primo soundcheck position? Yeah, there’s no way she could pass that up, but there is one issue. Their next concert is in Toronto. As if he can sense what she’s thinking, Jimin immediately offers to fly Amira and whoever she wants to bring with her to Toronto. The sound of raucous laughter in the background drowns out his next sentence, so she can only assume the rest of the group is giving him shit for that.

“I can’t let you do that, Jimin.” Amira already knows that Cameren is going to kill her for this when she fills her in later, but she doesn’t want him to feel like she’s using him for free stuff. He tries his absolute best to change her mind but Amira doesn’t let up. 

“At least promise me that last night won’t be the last time I see you.”

“I promise. Now go to sleep before I tell army you’re neglecting yourself because I can hear the exhaustion all in your voice.” Jimin laughs at her playful threat which makes her heart swell with pride at being the one to make him laugh like that. After being a fan for so long, Amira can perfectly picture the adorable way his eyes have probably scrunched closed as he laughs with his whole body. The reluctantly bid each other goodbye after Jimin makes her promise once more that they’ll meet again.

Months have passed since the day Jimin turned Amira’s life into a wattpad fanfiction and since then life has changed in numerous ways for both of them. Amira has gotten a new job. A new dog. A new house. Meanwhile, BTS has hopped from country to country playing to sold out stadiums. Broken fistfuls of records that established western acts admittedly balk at. And yet, despite all these changes, Jimin and Amira’s presence in each other’s lives has remained constant. Whether it be a funny meme he saw online, a FaceTime call at an indecent hour because time zones are weird, or even a postcard from whatever part of the globe BTS has ended up in. Despite their best efforts though, their late night conversation over coffee did not get the follow up that they’d promised to have. 

Amira is on her way back to work after meeting up with Cameren for lunch when she gets a text from Jimin. It’s a picture of what looks like a schedule for the upcoming month and it looks pretty empty save for a flight to LA on the fifth. The image is accompanied with several eye emojis and Amira connects the dots immediately. The second she returns to the office, she submits a request for two weeks of leave time. After snapping a picture of her screen, her fingers fly across the screen with a quick message to Jimin.

Amira hasn’t seen Jimin in person since that night at the coffee shop and that thought keeps her up at night as the days fly by. No matter how much careful planning they put in to try and see each other something always seemed to come up and foil whatever plans the two of them had concocted, but this time feels different. Like everything might actually fall perfectly into place. That brings up the question about how Amira is going to handle being face to face with Jimin again. All of his flirting and little pet names have been hard to handle over text but to be in the same room with him and keep her cool is going to be a new kind of challenge. He’s been very direct about what his feelings are and though she feels the same, Amira has been hesitant to reciprocate his romantic sentiments in fear that what she feels is rooted in her love for BTS as a fan. Cameren has been Amira’s saving grace with her pep talks but nothing could ever truly prepare her for the force of nature that is Park Jimin spending two uninterrupted weeks in her house. 

Jimin arrives in a whirlwind of designer luggage that he quickly tosses aside in favor of peppering kisses all over Amira’s face while she playfully attempts to fight him off. Her terrier Luna runs circles around the both of them in a frenzy at having a new friend to play with her. Amira’s heart is beating erratically in her chest as Jimin switches tactics, choosing to simply hold her close to him.

“Hello to you too, Ji-” His lips pressing against her own stops Amira’s sentence in its tracks. 

She’s always admired how soft his lips looked but to find out just how soft they actually are sends a rush of endorphins coursing through her. All of the qualms she’d had about falling for him melt away like ice cream in the summer sun. Her insecurities suddenly seem so significant as his lips mold against her own like they were meant to be there. A deep groan rattles Jimin’s chest when she gets over her initial shock and reciprocates. He tastes of strawberries and the faintest hint of mint when he explores her mouth with his expert tongue. Amira decides then and there that she would gladly die of suffocation if it meant she could kiss Jimin till she croaked.

They could’ve remained locked together for an indefinite amount of time if not for Luna tugging on Jimin’s pant leg with her teeth, demanding her fair share of his attention. He doesn’t hesitate to scoop the energetic fur ball into his arms, scratching behind one of her ears as Luna practically vibrates in his arms.

“I think this is the part where I tell you I’m in love with you and want to be your boyfriend.” He lifts Luna next to his face and Amira knows she’s in trouble. “Don’t you want to wake up to us every morning? At least for the next two weeks?”

“Kiss me again and you’ve got a deal, boyfriend.”