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awkness · 3 days ago

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Written in the Stars

Platonic Yandere Older Brother & Younger Selkie Genderneutral Reader

Your home life is tense at the best of times, with your mother fickle and moody and your father more concerned with her than his children. It would be complete misery without your brother, Cillian, who looked after you the way your parents should have, a bright light in your gloomy days.

But as family secrets come to the surface and your life starts to unravel, you're forced to wonder if your brother is any better than the parents that raised him.

Content Warnings: confinement, forced marriage (not between reader), unhealthy relationships, abandonment issues, mentions of mental illness, child abuse, child endangerment, isolation, death, and general yandere shenanigans. Let me know if I missed anything

Word Count: 10.5k

Authors Note: I played it pretty fast and loose with this one so I have no idea when exactly this takes place, but it's somewhere before the industrial revolution in Ireland. So if you're wondering why there's no modern technology, that's why lol also this turned out way longer then it was supposed to, I have no idea why, it was supposed to be a quick 2k story and then it just got away from me. Whoops. Also the mother and fathers story is loosely based on traditional fairytale of fish wives and selkies. I remember reading a couple and thinking "wouldn't it be messed up if they had children?" And. Well. You can tell me how messed up it turned out lol

You're sick. You were born sick, and you always will be. It's all you remember.

Your first memory was of little four year old you wandering out of the house. Father was fishing, Cillian was tending to the animals and Mother was resting because of sickness as per usual, so there was no one to stop you. No concerned caregiver to bustle you back into the house and scold you for your carelessness as you pouted for being denied your will.

You simply walked out the front door.

You had no understanding of what you were doing. Just a unceasing tug propelling you out and way from the house until the air smelled of salt, and you could hear the faint crashing of waves steadily growing louder.

Then there was the sea.

Your memories get fuzzy then, as your mind grew clouded by pure, blinding need. But you do remember the feel of grass slowly turning to sand under your bare feet. The way the rolling of the waves enveloped your mind completely, your eyes unable to move away.

Then your feet hit the cold of the water, and you snap awake, looking around, finally aware of where you are, and how far away from home it was. Confused and on the verge of panic, you try to call out for your brother only for your eyes to be pulled back into the blue, and all thoughts are gone, and you feel a deep, primordial comfort, the same comfort you imagine children feel when being embraced by their mother.

You step forward.

First, it's up to your feet, then your knees, then your waist. The salt water saps away at your body heat the deeper you go, but you don't mind it, you don't mind anything at all. After all, you're right where you're meant to be.

The salt water is almost up to your chest when you're swept off your feet and taken away from the water. You begin to thrash and cry, a horrible, searing pain in your chest at being separated from the sea, like a part of your being was torn from your body. Your cries are so loud, you don't even realize that it's Cillian who took you away until he turns you toward him and starts yelling at you.

The specifics of it are lost on you, but it's not hard to guess, given the circumstances. What you do remember is his young, acne covered face contorted in unfamiliar anger that you've never seen before or since.

It might have frightened you more if it wasn't for the immense pain and loss you were feeling.

But yelling wasn't enough for him. He starts shaking you by the shoulders and demands why you were there in the first place. You were still crying, nothing but running snot and big, hot tears, but you managed to wail an answer, even if it wasn't the one he wanted.

Put me back, put me back. I'm supposed to be there. It hurts. Put me back.

The shaking stops, and so does the yelling. There's nothing but your loud, desperate sobs as you beg to walk back into the sea.

Without warning, he picked you up and began to make the trip home.

You started to thrash again, increasing loud "NO NO NO"s running out of your mouth as your soft, weak body tries to slip out, but his grip is iron. He only squeezes you tighter until you eventually tire.

You spend the rest of the trip shivering in his arms, finally able to feel the cold again.

When you arrive home, he ushers you into your room and tells you to change out of your sea-soaked clothes as he heads towards another part of the house.

You obey, more out of habit then anything else, your mind still numb. When you finish, you sit and wait until he comes and grabs you, taking you into your parent's room.

Mother was sitting up in bed.

Cillian placed you beside her, and for a strange, uncanny moment, you stare into her unblinking, dark eyes. It's all you can do.

This moment last so long, you think she has fallen into one of her stupors. But she blinks, and the spell is broken. With her same blank face, she pats the bed. You tentatively comply, taking your place next to her.

"Cillian has said you've been to the ocean. Is this true?"

Her voice is soft, sweet, slow, and so foreign on your ears.

You nod, refusing to look into her eyes again.

"Tell me, what was it like?"

Your little mouth twist into a grimace. Something deep in you tells your mind to keep silent.

Your brother steps in.

"They were going to drown, Ma! They said-"

"Hush, Cillian."

She didn't spare him a glance, eyes trained on you.

Her hand snakes over your face, her cold flesh cupping your face as she turns your head to face her. Her eyes burrow into yours, and you can't help but feel small and weak. You have no more will to resist.

"Why did you go down there?"

"It was calling me."

"What was?"

"The sea, it was singing to me. I needed to go to it. I couldn't help myself"

For the first time in your life, you saw your mother smile.

It was a disturbed smile. The kind that didn't reach her eyes, that looked more like bared teeth then a sincere display of joy.

"I knew it. Your father tried to hide it, but I knew the moment you were born. You're just like me."

She let you go, and without another word, laid down, with her back turned to her children.

The entire thing disturbed and confused you, and you immediately looked to Cillian for explanation and reassurance.

Instead, you saw him frozen, a look of terror on his face as he stared at Mother's form.

But then he caught your eye, schooled his features into something more neutral, and carried you out of the room, out of the house, and into the sheep pen, where you wordlessly helped him take care of the animals until your Father came home.

Father was much more laissez-faire about the whole ordeal. Cillian explained everything to him, nerves alight after Mothers declaration, and to your Fathers credit, he listened patiently, never once interrupting the younger boys nervous speech. When Cillian was done, Father turned to you, and in a disturbingly casual manner, explained to you that your mother had passed on her sickness to you.

When you asked when it would go away, he laughed until Cillian yelled at him to stop.

That was when you got the news that though it wasn't as potent as your mother's illness, it was still permanent. You would live and die with this affliction.

You stood there dumbly as your father idly ruffled your head and told you that there were worse things to have. You think he was about to tell you to get ready for bed before Cillian exploded on him.

It was obvious you had no place in the conversation anymore, and you tried to make your way to your room before Cillian snatched you and took you to his room, his face red with tears.

You slept in his bed that night.

The following day, you were no longer allowed to stay in the house and play like you usually did. Instead, Cillian made you follow him wherever he went, not letting you stray from his line of sight. When your father came home that following day, he brought with him a bell at Cillians' request, which you were made to wear at all times, even as you slept.

Slowly, more symptoms began to manifest. At times, your mind would fog over, unable to focus on anything for periods of time. The sound of waves would ring through your ear, though you were nowhere near the shore. And occasionally, dreams of the sea would haunt you. Beautiful, painful dreams that would leave you crying in your wake, which in turn woke up poor Cillian. But ever the loving brother, he would go to your side and sooth you until you fell asleep again. In the case of especially distressing dreams, he would sleep with you, and no nightmares would dare plague you when Cillian was with you.

And, on very rare instances, you would feel it again. That same tug that changed your world, that demanded you return to the ocean where you belong. Your mind would switch off, and your feet would move of their own accord towards the shore. But you would misstep, or trip, or some other mishap would occur, and the bell would ring. The spell would break just long enough for you to run back towards Cillian and tell him what was happening before you slipped away again. He'd take you in his arms and mutter soothing words, keeping you close until the episode passed.

But those were few, and grew fewer as you grew older. Most days, the worst of your symptoms were brain fog, which was not pleasant but much better than walking towards a cold death in the sea.

No, most days were rather enjoyable. You would wake up to Cillian making breakfast and wait to eat until he finished serving your mother, who only ate in her room. Then you would follow him around as he did his errands for the day, sometimes helping, sometimes busying yourself with your own task. If he got done early, he would read to you or help you with your writing. He used to try and help with your arithmetic, but it became obvious that he wasn't good enough with numbers to teach you. Then, if your mind was clear, you would help with dinner and sneak bites whenever Cillian wasn't looking. Dinner would then be ready, and Father would usually be home by then, give you both polite greetings, and then he would take two plates and make his way to his room to spend the rest of the evening with Mother, as you and your brother spent the evening with each other until bed.

True, there were times when it felt like you were being smothered by Cillian and his constant worry and argue that you didn't need the constant monitoring. Sometimes, these arguments would get the both of you irritated beyond reason with each other, having you both oscillating between petty bickering and the silent treatment.

But those were few and far in between. Most of that time was marked by the games you would play with him when you should have been working, by the silly songs he taught you when you got bored of watching him work, of the gentle coaxing he would give when your mind wandered from you. Those moments when he would take you into the field in the middle of the night and teach you about the constellations, or help you make flower crowns, which he would gladly wear until they withered and fell apart. Those days he'd grow morose about one of the many worries he had, and you would comfort him the only way a child like him could be comforted: hugging him until he felt better. Or those dark moments when you were reduced to tears by your despair at your illness, afraid that one day it would grow worse, and you would end up like your mother. He would hold you tight while crying himself and reassure you that it would never happen. And if it did, he would be there to care for you and keep you safe until the end if his days.

But this wasn't meant to last. As the years went by, Cillian was slowly coming into his adulthood and needed to find a way to make a living for himself. Father had talked to him about teaching him how to be a fisherman, but he wholeheartedly rejected the idea. Instead, he went to town and asked for an apprenticeship with the local carpenter.

The first few weeks, he brought you with him, claiming it still wasn't safe for you to stay at home without him.

Though you loathed the thought of being treated like an unruly toddler and not a child old enough to keep house by themself, the thought intrigued you. You couldn't remember the last time you got to see the village, and the mere thought caused butterflies in your stomach. New places, faces, sights, and smells... perhaps you would enjoy this.

Unfortunately, reality had different plans for you.

It became obvious that you and your brother were not welcome in the village. There was never any violent confrontation or hurtful words thrown your way, but instead a lack of interaction. The other children avoided your presence, and the villagers avoided you and your brothers gaze, only speaking to you when polite conduct forced them to. You could swear you heard them gossiping about you, talking about "cursed blood" and something to do with the sea, yet every time you came up to them, they would act like nothing was said.

The carpenter himself was much kinder, but his time was spent teaching your brother his craft, and you were left to your own devices, more lonely than ever.

After the first few days of begging, Cillian finally relented, and you stayed home with Mother.

The following weeks were painfully uneventful, with you taking over Cillians chores and adjusting to the new workload. Your brain fog made it difficult, causing complications, frustrations, and occasional minor injuries, which Cillian would fret over when he got home. Not that he needed those to worry, as every day he came home, he would rush through the house, his face frantic with worry. He only relaxed when he found you, and you reassured him that nothing had happened, and you were okay.

By the fourth week, you couldn't tell him that anymore, because Mother had begun taking trips outside of the house.

It was the middle of the day, and you were doing some cleaning around the house when the door to your parents' room creaked open, and Mother came out. You called out to her, but she ignored you, steadily making her way out the front door and towards the shore.

You trailed after her a safe distance away, unsure of what else to do. You were always slightly wary of her, as her presence was always a disquieting one in your home. But a vague sense of familial duty kept you from letting her wander unaccompanied.

When the shore finally came into your view, she was already on it, knelt down in the sand, in the company of an adult brown seal.

Upon this image, you felt it again. That pull towards the sea, weaker than before, but just as familiar. You tried to stop, but your feet began to move against your will. Terrified, you used the last of your free will to clench your fist, digging your nails into your palms until they punctured your skin. Only then, the spell broke, and you were able to run back home, uncaring of what would happen on the shore.

An hour or so later, she came back, a faint smile on her face as she lazily wandered back to her room.

Not long after, your brother came home, and you told him everything.

His face sunk further and further as you spoke, and when you finished, he looked like a man twice his age. He took your hand gently into his, and all but begged you not to follow her again.

"To lose Mother would be sad, to lose you would be unspeakable. I couldn't forgive myself if something happened to you."

He then made you promise to not tell Father anything that happened, and you readily agreed.

But then Mother went to visit the beach the next day. And then the next. And the day after, and the one after that, until it became common place. The visits also grew longer, to the point where you and Cillian were worried she wouldn't be home when Father returned from fishing.

That day didn't take long to come.

She had left. You had worked. Cillian came home. You both cooked dinner. Then Father came home, grabbed dinner for both him and Mother, and headed towards his room.

Then the plates shattered on the floor.

He rushed out with the eyes of a madman and interrogated the both of you on where Mother was. Cillian answered for the both of you, saying she had felt in good spirits and had gone on a walk. Your father lost it on him, struck him across the face, and let out a string of curses before marching out the front door, leaving Cillian on the floor and you crying in his wake.

You did your best to help nurse Cillians swelling face as he did his best to console your silent weeping.

Little time had passed before you heard Fathers stomping and yelling once again, with the stern voice of your Mother mixed in. You both quickly took shelter in Cillians room before they made it through the door.

The arguing continued as they went inside and into their rooms, the walls doing little to muffle their voices. It lasted for ten minutes, twenty, thirty, and then an hour, with no signs of stopping. You held onto your brother as you both tried to wait out the storm happening in your house until Cillian decided that enough was enough.

He gently nudged your shoulder, then looked towards his bedroom window, and then back down towards you.

"You want to leave?"

You practically jumped at the opportunity.

He climbed through the window before helping you down, taking your hand and leading you towards the field where the sheep grazed. It was summer, so the night was comfortably warm, a full moon lighting your way. Your bare feet carefully tread the grass, making sure not to step on any burs or briars hidden in the greenery.

He stopped at a small flower patch that the both of used to love lazing around in before he had to take his apprenticeship. Cowslips, wild garlic, and wood sorrels dotted the area. He laid down and looked towards the sky, and you followed his lead, laying down next to him.

"Do you remember any of the constellations I've taught you?"

"Of course!" You say, a little indignant. How could you forget those nights of stargazing?

You search the sky, easily finding a few.

"Lets see, there's Aquarius...Capricorn... and I think that one's Gemini?"

You point in the direction of the cluster of stars, and he brings his head closer to see where your fingers led.

"Yes, that's the one. You know, some people believe the stars control your fate. Something about being born in a certain time of year connects you to certain constellations, and they determine everything about your life, even when you die."

Your brows scrunched together in confusion. You knew you were pretty sheltered, only having your brother, your father, and various books for news of the outside world, but this seemed rather confusing.

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, I don't know too much about it myself. Some spinster stopped me in the street a few days back and asked me if I wanted my fortune read to me. I didn't know what she meant, so she explained to me how everything about our birth, when and where you were born, determines what will happen to you. She offered to tell me about mine if I paid her."

"And what did she say?"

"Nothing, her fees were too expensive, so I left."

"Boring."

He let out a chuckle. "Maybe."

The conversations then lapsed into silence, your eyes lazily gliding among the stars until he spoke again. His voice was hardly above a whisper.

"I wouldn't have asked for it, even if I had the money. Something about the whole thing didn't sit right with me. I mean, if your whole life is written out the moment you're born, what's the purpose of it all? All your struggles, all your accomplishments, completely meaningless. And those that are destined for a horrible life, what's the point in living, if it will only end in disaster?"

You turn over to look at him, his face almost imperceptible in the faint moon light as he stares up at the sky. His hands restlessly fidget with his sleeves as he starts talking again.

"No, I can't believe that. It's too cruel. Our feelings, our thoughts, our actions, they matter. We're more than our birth."

He turns to look at you, his eyes soft and a faint, an almost apologetic smile on his lips.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is, I know a better life seems impossible now, but it'll all be okay in the end. I promise."

You nod back with a smile. It's always been easy to believe the things your brother says, even if you know otherwise.

You both turn back up towards the sky, watching the stars until Cillian got up and told you it was time to head home.

The next morning, things only got worse.

It all started with you waking up in Cillians' bed, confused and disoriented, before remembering that you had refused to creep back to your own room, too afraid to run into your own parents.

Next, you noticed the sun was higher in the sky than it was usually when you woke up. Blearily, you realized you slept in late.

So you decided to wake your brother, still sleeping on the floor, and inform him of the situation. After a few minutes of calling his name, you finally decided to shake him awake. He grumpily protested the whole ordeal and was about to go back to bed until you informed him of the time.

He then threw off his thin blanket, sprang up off the floor, and opened to door with you following behind.

Until he stopped.

You peered from behind your brother and saw your father sitting at the table.

Shouldn't he be away by now?

He gave a smile to the both of you.

"Good morning, children. Why don't you take a seat? I've already prepared breakfast."

For a moment, Cillian didn't move, and neither did you. Briefly, you contemplated turning around and taking refuge in his room again, but then he started to cautiously make his way forward, and you reluctantly followed.

You and Cillian took the only two seats left, both located close to Father. You distantly wondered where Mothers chair had gone.

Your brother started to place food on his plate, and you grabbed a slice of buttered bread, immediately taking a bite out of it. The sooner you could leave the table, the better.

Father grabbed nothing. He simply watched the both of you, the same smile from before still plastered on his face.

It was only now that you could make out the dark circles under his eyes and his unkempt hair. You could also see he was still wearing the same work clothes from yesterday. You don't think he slept a wink.

After a tense, quiet moment of watching the both of you eat, he turned towards your brother and began to speak.

"Cillian, my boy, are you still going into town today?"

He avoided his gaze as he replied.

"Yes, sir. I can't afford to skip any lessons."

"But you're already late. Surely, you couldn't do any more harm by skipping today?"

"I can't, sir. It would be disrespectful to miss an entire day without reason."

"I expected as much. I suppose it can't be helped."

Father gave a thoughtful hum before turning towards you.

"Well, I guess that leaves you, then."

You froze as your heart rate picked up. You briefly caught Cillians eyes, and saw your own panic reflected back.

Father continued on, like he hadn't noticed.

"I need to ask a favor of you. Your mother has been getting worse, as the both of you seem to know already."

He pointedly shot your brother a look before returning his gaze to you.

"And she needs her rest. Unfortunately, she does not want to rest. That's why I've taken it upon myself to make sure she does."

He gestured over towards the door of the room Mother lay, and you saw the missing chair propped up securely against the knob.

"All you need to do is make sure she stays inside. Don't let her out for anything. Not for food, or water, or even the bathroom. No matter what she says or does, you do not open that door."

He then reached out and placed a large, cold, and loose hand on your shoulder. It took everything in you not to shake it off.

"Am I understood?"

You nodded rapidly. "Yes, Father."

His smile grew wider and he gave your shoulder a pat before retracting his arm.

"Good. Because if she isn't in there when I come back, I will be very disappointed."

With that, he slapped his legs before pushing himself off the chair.

"Well, I'd best be off now. Take care, I'll be back as soon as I can."

He grabbed his coat, put on his shoes, and headed out the door.

After the sound of his footsteps subsided, you quietly got up and headed towards your parents' door.

Your hand had only come to touch the chair before Cillian grabbed you and pulled you away.

You wrestled out of his grip and turned to face him before his hands landed on your shoulders as he gave you a slight shake, his hands warm and unmovable.

"What do you think you're doing?" He hissed.

"What do you think you're doing?" You countered.

"Keeping you from making a mistake. Did you not listen to Father at all?"

"I did, and that's exactly why I'm doing it. You know this can't be right, Cillian, he can't keep her locked up."

"Of course this is awful, that isn't the point." He spat out.

You recoiled as far back as his hold would allow.

That seemed to make him pause he decided to close his eyes and take a deep breath, his features softening a touch. His voice was less harsh, but just as urgent as he spoke again.

"I know you don't want to be a part of this. I don't, either. But we don't have a choice here. With Father becoming more... unpredictable, it's better to play along with whatever he wants. Just until I can save enough money to get us out of here, okay?"

"But what about Mother?"

"I don't care about Mother, I care about you. Your safety goes above everything else."

You turn away, your eyes growing wet.

"I don't like it."

"You don't have to like it, you just have to listen."

You wipe your eyes. He lets out a sigh and loosens his grip.

"Why don't you stay out of the house for today? Focus on tending to the sheep and chickens, or tend to the garden, or whatever you want. It'll be easier on you if you don't have to hear her, okay?"

You didn't move.

"(Y/N), please, look at me." He said quietly.

Against your better judgment, you did.

His face was fallen, his eyes starting to water like yours were. An unwilling feeling of guilt formed in your heart.

"Promise me you won't let Mother out." He pleaded.

You nodded, even though the thought of going along this made you sick.

He gave you a genuine smile.

"Thank you."

Cillian left soon after, and you tittered about in the house, trying to keep yourself busy. You thought about going outside the house and focusing on taking care of the animals like he suggested, but your guilt wouldn't allow you to leave Mother.

You had quickly come to regret that decision as not even an hour after Cillians departure, Mother tried to open the door.

Simple attempts at opening the door had rapidly grown more frantic until she was pounding on the wood. The sound encompassed the whole house, and you could only stand and stare like a trapped animal, torn between your duty to your mother and your duty to your brother.

And then she stopped.

And the whole house was quiet.

For some reason, you found the silence profoundly more disturbing than her hysterical attempts to break the door, and you half longed to hear them again.

As you debated calling out to her, the silence was broken by the sound of glass shattering.

The only glass in the room was her window.

You rushed out of the front door and ran around the side of the house to where the window was, only to see her exiting through where the glass used to be. He dress was torn, and her arms and legs were covered in minor cuts that dotted her in red.

"Mother!" You shout. "Are you okay-"

She turned towards you, came to an abrupt halt, and stared.

Her dark, dead eyes bore into you, leaving a weight on your chest you had never felt before. She knows, you thought. You didn't know what she knew or if there was anything to know, but it was the only thought in your head as she looked at you. She knows. And it made you wither before her.

She turned away and headed towards the tool shed. You followed her at a distance.

She emerged from the shed with a shovel and walked towards a small group of trees, of which she stopped in front of the old, brittle husk of what used to be a mighty oak.

And she started to dig.

It was obvious she was struggling. She had done little manual labor in her life, mostly content with wasting away in her room most days, so she had little muscle. She huffed and puffed, and even as far away as you were, you could see her arms shake with every shovel full of dirt. A foot into the ground, and you could see her hands start to bleed, the delicate skin tearing against the rough wood of the shovel.

But her face had stayed just as determined as it had been when she started, and her pace never slowed. As you watched, you could swear that not even hell could stop her.

You stood there and watched her toil knee-deep in the dirt, wondering what could drive such a woman to go to these lengths when you heard the sound of metal hitting metal.

With frantic movements, she began to shovel faster, then abandoned the tool altogether and desperately clawed at the dirt with her fingers.

Then she began to pull.

One tug. Then another. And another.

And then one final tug, and it was free. She staggered back, a metal box as big as her chest held firmly in her hands.

She wasted no time throwing it to the ground and undoing the latches that held it closed.

She took out something and stared at it for a moment before carelessly tossing it to the side. Out of her grasp, you could see it was a fur of some sort. Though you couldn't tell what animal it belonged to, you could see that it was rather plain looking, definitely not worth burying like it was some valuable treasure.

Yet why did it seem to tug at your heart, trying to draw you closer?

Your attention was torn from the fur as the sound of crying filled the air.

It came from Mother, now hunched over a larger, more beautiful fur, her face buried deep as he let out more heart-wrenching sobs. It was the most emotion you've ever seen from her.

You felt like a voyeur. This moment wasn't for you, yet you couldn't leave, transfixed by such both the fur and Mother.

It took moments for the crying to subside, at which point she slowly got to her legs, and she draped the fur over her shoulders like an oversized shawl.

It was like this you could see it better. It was white, and the fur sparkled in the sun like a jewel. It was also obvious that this was the fur of an adult seal.

Her head turned towards you, and you held her gaze, only for a moment, before she turned away and walked towards the direction of the sea.

As she made her past the horizon and beyond your line of sight, she didn't once turn back to look at you.

And you were glad she didn't.

You didn't know how long you spent watching her leave. Even after she disappeared from your sight, you still watched the last spot you saw her. You knew she wouldn't come back, and you hoped she wouldn't either, but that didn't stop the expectancy from growing inside you. There was more coming, and you just didn't know what it was or where it would come from.

Eventually, your mind snapped back to the present, and you became aware of your surroundings again. The sun had climbed quite a ways across the sky, telling you it was afternoon now.

With little else to do, you made your way to the discarded fur.

The closer you got, the more your heart trembled in your chest, and your skin itched in anticipation. It was so similar to the way the sea called to you, but more intense, and completely irresistible.

When you finally knelt down and grasped it, the world melted away along with the fog around your brain, and your mind gained a sense of clarity and sharpness you had never experienced before. And a beautiful, overwhelming feeling of completeness washed over you, like this fur was a long lost part of you, and you were finally, blissfully whole again.

This is what Mother felt when she touched her fur, wasn't it? It must be, because you started to to cry just like she did, face buried in your fur- no, a small voice in your mind said, your lost skin, as you tried to take it all in.

What relief, what clarity, what pain it is to be complete again. Who knew such an immense joy could bring so much hurt?

You only stopped crying when you heard a yell in the distance.

"(Y/N)! WHERE'S YOUR MOTHER?"

It was Fathers voice.

You whip your head to see the figure of your father coming towards you, only to stop as your body twisted towards his, revealing your second skin bundled in your arms.

His shocked expression quickly twisted to something dark, ugly, and angry.

He started walking towards you again, his movements similar to the confident prowl of a wolf coming across a stray lamb, far away from the safety of the herd.

And you felt your heart kick up, exactly like a lamb's would.

Without further thought, you draped your skin across your shoulders like Mother had, scrambled towards your feet, and sprinted away.

Father's heavy footsteps followed.

Past the sheep fields, beyond your property, from well trodden footpaths to completely untamed land, you dashed across the land with your father steady in pursuit, unable to escape his sight.

You didn't realize you were headed towards the ocean until you saw the sand of the beach and the deep blue of the sea.

Logically, you knew that the beach was a dead end. There was nothing there to help you down there, and you couldn't swim. But something inside you urged you forward, saying you would be free, if only you could reach the water, and after everything that happened today, you were inclined to trust it.

As your feet hit the sand, Father began to shout, all threats and insults.

When your skin met the sea, the sharpness in his voice disappeared, replaced with a desperation so unbecoming of a man once to confident.

When you were up to your waist in the salt water, and the rolling waves threatened threatened to knock you off your feet and sweep you out to sea, your father started to plead. To beg you to come out of the water and help him find Mother. He had momentarily lost his temper, he didn't mean to frighten you so. He's not mad any more, he's sorry, and only wishes you could come out and tell him where Mother went. To help him figure out a way to find her and to bring her home. If only you would get out of the water.

You didn't bother to look back.

You dove into the rolling waves, and something fantastical overcame your body.

Your clothes fell away from your body, and your seal skin filled with a strange energy, latching onto your human skin and merging until they were one. Your arms shrunk into flippers with dull claws, and your legs and feet merged into a sleek, powerful tail. Blubber formed around your body and neck, and nestled you in warmth. Your hair receded, and your head shrunk, with your nose and mouth forming the short snout of a seal.

Soon, you were darting through the water, further and further away from the cries of your father, and deeper into the blue.

You swam so far and for so long that when you finally came to the surface to breathe, you could no longer see the shore, with no recollection of which direction you came from. All round you was nothing but a yawning stretch of unbroken blue.

The sun had finally set, transforming the water into the same inky darkness of the sky, and you had still not found your way back to land.

You had tried to head back in the direction you thought you had come from, only to find nothing. So you tried another direction, then another, and another, only to wind up more lost than before.

Frustrated, you had given up for a time and decided to explore what lay under the sea, both in childish curiosity of what the world was like under the water and in foolish hope that you would find your mother, and she could guide you back.

Instead, you found dozens upon dozens of colorful fish and bizarre plants that you could scarcely dream of. You would follow these alien creatures as they scuttled and swam about with a sense of whimsy and awe, captivated by their strangeness. It was the most fun you had in a very long time. If only land could have creatures like this, it would be a much more beautiful place.

But soon, you had lost yourself in your exploration, just like you had lost yourself in the sea. When you finally stopped and resurfaced, the sky and sea had darkened, to the point you could hardly tell which was which.

It was only then you felt the effects of being at sea for so long. Though your blubber did much to keep you warm, the sea was always cold, and a chill had crept deep into your skin. Your stomach gnawed in hunger, and a great weariness started to overtake you. How much longer could you keep swimming?

You grew panicked, head whipping around in despair as you tried to find something, anything to lead you home.

In confusion and fear, you turned your head towards the sky, and it was there you found your answer.

The north star.

It was the first thing your brother had taught you when he took you stargazing. He would still quiz you on it every once in a while, just to make sure you remembered how to find it.

You can still hear his voice like it was yesterday.

"As long as you can find the north star, you can always find your way home."

A renewed feeling of energy washed over you, filling your weary body with resolve, and you pushed yourself towards home.

On and on, you fought against the choppy waves trying to push against your own struggling body and pull you further into the ocean, with nothing but thoughts of home to push you forward.

But after an unknown amount of time, you came across not the shore, but there, upon the horizon, the silhouette of a man upon a fishing boat, harpoon raised, as sharks circled him... no, those weren't sharks.

They were seals.

And that man you your father.

You abandoned your current course to swim closer, trying to understand what was happening.

As you crept up on the ship, you finally heard Fathers shouting over the rough waves.

"DAMN ANIMALS!" His voice was venom.

"WHERE IS SHE? I KNOW YOU HAVE HER! WHERE IS MY WIFE?!"

The seals began to nudge the boat, throwing him momentarily off balance. However, he quickly gained his composure.

"MY LOVE, COME BACK TO ME!"

There was no response.

"I'LL DRAG YOU BACK, ONE WAY OR THE OTHER, AND I'LL KILL WHATEVER BEAST GETS IN MY WAY!"

He regained his footing and raised his harpoon as if to attack, his face alight with manic anger.

But beyond his sight, you saw a beautiful white seal barrel towards the side of his boat, with no sign of stopping. In a flash, her body collided with the wood, and the ship was overturned, throwing Father into the dark sea before he could scream.

It was only a moment before he resurfaced, harpoon gone, struggling to keep his head above water.

"DON'T, PLEASE-"

A seal broke off from the circling pack, bit down on his leg, and dragged him down, disappearing beneath the surface. You tensed, afraid that the seal hadn't let him go, but he broke through the waves in a manner of seconds, choking on salt water.

He struggled against the current, coughing his lung out as he tried to make his way towards his capsized ship.

Then another seal did the same, taking him underwater but holding him down just a little longer. When Father resurfaced, he began to exclaim in fear, begging for mercy, and then for Mother, before he was dragged back down again into the inky abyss.

And then it happened again.

And again.

You caught sight of the same white seal who had brought this fate upon him. She had positioned herself slightly away from the rest of the herd, content to watch from afar. Perhaps she thought her part over, or perhaps she was merely waiting for her turn again.

Slowly, she turned her head towards you, as if she knew you were here all along.

She didn't say a word as she looked at you, but you knew what she was trying to tell you.

You don't belong here.

And perhaps she was right.

You turned away from the brutality happening in front of you, and found the north star again. With your bearings, you continued your journey home.

When the shore finally came out of the horizon, you could have jumped for joy. You pushed your tired fins to the max, wanting nothing more than to finally return to land.

As you came closer, you could make out the dark figure of another person, frantically walking along the shore line, calling out to the sea.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N)! IS THAT YOU?!"

It was Cillian.

You felt such a sense of relief upon seeing him, you could cry.

You tried to call out to him, but it only came out in the strange barks of a seal.

He ran towards the water, only stopping as it reached his waist, your abandoned clothes clutched it his hands as he continued to shout your name like a madman.

You pushed and pushed, willing your aching body to go faster and faster until you were upon him. His arms were held wide, and you leaped into them as he caught you with ease.

Then that strange, magical sensation happened again.

Your skin warped and twisted, growing and then separating itself into two, your seal skin wrapping around you like a robe. Your tail and fins turned back into arms and legs, with the rest of your body following suit. All the while, Cillian still held you, red rimmed eyes in awe over what he saw.

And just like that, you were human again.

He took your face in his hands, one cupping your cheek as the other stroked your hair ever so gently. His hands were cold from being out for so long, and they shook slightly, whether from adrenaline or exhaustion, you couldn't tell. Yet you found yourself leaning into them anyway.

His face was red, and his eyes were wet and puffy. His chin wobbled as much as his voice, unable to contain his emotion.

"I thought you were gone. I came home, and you weren't there, and I couldn't find anyone. I looked everywhere, and when I found your clothes, oh God, I thought I would never see you again. I thought I would be alone."

His voice broke down into wordless sobs, his hands letting your face go only to wrap you into a crushing embrace. You found yourself beginning to cry with him.

"I'm here now." You told him, your own voice faltering from your tears. "It's okay, I'm here."

His sobbing only picked up, sounding like those rare occasions when he cried as a child.

"Oh, my baby. Thank God, thank God."

You stood there, held fast in his arms, as the ocean waves pushed against the both of you, sapping the warmth out of your body, but you couldn't bother to care. You thought you could stay like that forever, safe and sound in his hold.

But his hold began to loosen, and he looked down at you, face haggard and tired.

"Let's go home."

You nodded and took his hand as he led you out of the sea and towards land. But you felt like your body was made of lead, and you kept stumbling, almost falling back into the water. That's when Cillian decided to pick you up, arms under your knees and back in a princess style hold. You didn't protest, exhaustion leaving you too weak to reasonably object. Instead, you lay your head on his shoulder, arms securely holding your second skin around your body, as he took you out of the water.

As you exited the beach, the cold had finally caught up with you, and you began to shiver violently.

Cillian looked down at you, face pinched in concern, before focusing back on the path ahead, picking up his pace.

"I know, I know. We'll be home soon. We'll get you dressed in dry clothes, and I'll get a fire going, and you'll be warm before you know it. Just hang on."

You nodded, pressing yourself further against him, trying to share his body heat.

The journey dragged, the cool night temperatures making your symptoms worse. With each breeze, your shivering would pick up, and he would hold you tighter, as if he could solve the problem by only keeping you closer.

By the time you made it home, your fingers, toes, and nose were numb.

He tried to set you down carefully in front of your room, but his shaking, tired arms had you plopped on the ground more roughly then he intended, leading to him profusely apologizing and checking if you were okay.

You looked up to him and saw the way his fatigue wore on him, from the droopiness of his eyes to the sag of his shoulders and the way his wet clothes hung off of him. You wish he wouldn't apologize so much.

"Change into something warm, and I'll get the fire going, alright?"

You nodded and then went in your room to change, clumsily slipping on your normal nightwear. Still shivering, you then grabbed the blanket off your bed and bundled yourself with it before taking your wet seal skin and walking out of your room.

When you went back to the living room, Cillian was in dry clothes kneeling next to the fireplace, having finished loading the logs into the chimney. With a few strikes of the fire steel, a small fire began to grow on the wood, bringing a welcome heat with it.

You carefully hung up your second skin near the fireplace so it could dry and then sat down next to your brother, watching as he tended to the small flame, making certain it wouldn't go out. After a few minutes of carefully feeding it small, dry branches, it had taken to the bigger logs and grown to a healthy size. With a noise of contentment, he pulled the metal screen over the fireplace opening and leaned back, a drained expression falling on his face as he took a moment to soak in the heat.

Then he turned to you with a small smile.

"Feeling better?"

You nodded, your shivering having gone down some.

"But I'm still cold."

He opened his arms and waved you over. You didn't hesitate to go to them, taking your blanket and wrapping it over his body as well as yours as he wrapped his arms around you. Your head leaned against his shoulder, and his chin rested on your head.

And for a while, no one spoke. You sat snug in his hold, the warmth of the fire, the reassuring weight of his arms, and the steady rise and fall of Cillians chest, you were easily lulled into a state of half consciousness, bringing you a sense of peace.

But then your brothers voice, rough and low, spoke.

"Why did you leave?"

It took you a moment to process the question, mind fuzzy and slow from your exhaustion.

"Father was chasing me. I didn't know where else to go."

"You didn't have to stay gone for so long. You knew I would be home soon."

"I got lost."

With those words, his chest hitched, like he couldn't breathe. You hastily tried to reassure him.

"But when night fell, I used the north star to guide me home, just like you taught me. It all turned out okay in the end."

He shifted, his hold growing tighter.

"Don't you realise how lucky you were? If the sky had been overcast and you couldn't see the stars, what would you have done? How long would you have lasted at sea without its guidance? What if you had swam into a shark, or God forbid, a fisherman..."

His arms grew suffocating, to the point of pain.

"Cillian, please." You whimpered.

His grip immediately loosened, and he looked down on you, apologies spilling from his mouth once more.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, it just- it scares me. You scare me. And I hate how frightened you make me. You can't go back there, (Y/N)."

What could you say? You felt guilty about making him so upset, but you couldn't promise to not return to the ocean, either. Yes, your first trip in the water was terrifying, but it was also freeing and beautiful. You wouldn't feel complete without being able to go there again.

You chose to stay silent.

He pressed you gently back into his chest and began softly rocking you, one hand around you and the other carding through your hair.

Eventually, you drifted off, the soft crackle of the fire and the gentle sway of Cillian's hold following you into your dreams.

The next thing you know, you're swaddled in your bed, sunshine streaming through your windows.

It takes you a while to get up, the ordeals from yesterday still weighing heavy on your body. But eventually, hunger pangs form in your stomach, and you force yourself to leave the safety of the blankets to get food.

With your blanket wrapped around your body like a cloak, you slowly shuffle out of your room and towards the kitchen. You dully make note of how high the sun is, meaning you had slept well into the afternoon. You hope Cillian let the animals out before he left.

Once in the kitchen, you cut a slice of bread and stand there, chewing on it slowly, eyes half lidded as not one thought crosses your mind.

Then it hits you, a delayed wave of dread washing over you.

Your skin.

You had left it near the fireplace, right? You were fairly certain of it being wet, and you had wanted it to dry. Therefore, near the fireplace was the most logical place.

Uncertainly, you take the few steps it takes to get to the living room, and can find no sign of it.

But you remember putting it here. At least, you think you remember.

It occurs to you that, upon separation from your skin, that mental acuity you had gained from it was now lost once again, and your brain fog has rolled back in with a vengeance.

You look around the fireplace, turning over baskets and boxes and whatever gets in your way, before expanding your search to the living room, then the kitchen, then your room. You even dared to look through your parents' room and Cillians room for no other excuse than your rising panic at not being able to find that vital, beloved part of yourself.

All higher reason left you as you left your house to trace back your journey from the beach on the wild belief that you could have dropped your skin, despite knowing that it had stayed wrapped around your body the entire time.

The further into your walk, the more the pit in your stomach grew, climbing its way into your throat until you threatened to choke on it, tears leaking from your eyes all the while.

It was only upon not being able to find the skin anywhere on the beach that you collapsed down on the sand, your wailing a companion to the roaring of the waves.

It was there Cillian found poor you, face a red, blotchy mess of snot and tears. He knelt beside you, out of breath from running to find you. He tried his best to calm you down despite looking panicked himself, but you had worked yourself into an unmanageable state.

After a desperate few minutes, you had slowed down just enough to wail out, "I can't find my skin."

His mouth formed a grim line, face becoming unreadable. Without another word, he picked you up and carried you home once more.

You didn't bother fighting it, only continuing to cry until it tapered off to pathetic little whimpers, and then total silence.

You barely registered that you were home, that Cillian had placed you upon the floor, near the dwindling fire where you collapsed. You stared into the small flame, not being able to comprehend anything. The world had become too much, weighing heavy on your mind and body to the point that you didn't have a will to care about much anymore. Except, of course, for one thing.

After an unknown time, Cillian sat down next to you, apple in hand. He made a gesture as if offering you the food, but there was only one response on your lips.

"Do you know where my skin is?"

He turned away from you and faced the fire again, taking a bite of the fruit, and you stared at him as he chewed. Chewed, chewed, chewed, and then swallowed it all down.

He nodded.

"Yes, I know where it is."

You felt your eyes light up, a surge of hope coursing through your body.

"Where is it?!"

He didn't turn to look at you. His face didn't even so much as twitch.

"Cillian, please, where is it? Where's my skin?"

"It's somewhere safe."

"That's isn't an answer." A heat began to form in your voice. "Where is it?"

"What are you going to do with it, when you get it again?"

The question took you off guard, making you sputter for a moment.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you going to try and leave again?"

Your patience gave way to your anger.

"I didn't leave you, I was trying to run away from our crazy Father, who would have done God knows what to me if he caught me. And I didn't want to be stuck out at sea for hours on end! And I came home, didn't I? I want to be here, why isn't that enough for you?!"

His finally turned towards you, face twisted and sharp.

"You came back this time." He spat. "But what about the next? What's to keep you from deciding to stay in the sea if I can't be there to stop you? Just look at you! A day hasn't even passed, and you're already running back towards that accursed beach."

Heat rose in your cheeks, and your voice rose.

"And so you steal from me? You take a part of myself and hide it from me? How dare you! How dare you do what Father did!"

The veins in his head began to pop up at your words.

"I'm nothing like him, Father was a monster!"

"Then prove it! Give me back my skin!"

He stared at you, eyes wild, huffing like he had just run across the property. You held his gaze, just as angry and stubborn, unwillingly to back down.

He jolted up, then stalked across the floor and exited the house with a slam of the door.

You could only look after him in silence.

After Cillian left, you had slunk off to your bed, not knowing what else to do except to lie down and wait.

Eventually, you fell into a fitful sleep, not even able to find reprieve in your dreams, where you saw your mother taking your skin and running as you desperately tried to catch up to her. But no matter how fast you ran, or how hard you pushed yourself, you fell further and further behind until she was nothing more than a speck in the distance.

A hand came to rest on your head, and you jolted awake with a start, heart racing and eyes wide and unseeing, until a voice called out to you.

"It's okay, (Y/N), it's okay, it's only me, Cillian. Calm down, you're safe."

In a few short seconds, your eyes focused on the figure sitting on the edge of your bed in front of you, and it was indeed your brother, face composed in a reassuring smile.

You took in your surroundings, noticing it had gone completely dark, with only a candle placed on your nightstand to offer any light. There was no sign of your skin.

"I didn't mean to scare you, I just wanted to wake you up. It looked like you were having a nightmare."

You slumped back in your bed, and frown easily forming on your face.

"I was." Is your meager reply.

"I'm sorry about that. Do you want to talk about it?"

You look away from him, frown deepening.

He sighed. "You're still mad at me, aren't you?"

Silence.

"The first time you wandered off, trying to return to the beach, Father had taken me aside, and told me a story of a young, lonely fisherman who had come upon a beautiful, naked lady dancing on the beach. The fisherman had become enchanted with this strange woman, believing to have fallen in love at first sight. After having watched her for some time, he came to spot a stark white seal skin near the lady. It was then he figured out that the woman was not a human, but a selkie, a mythical creature with the ability to change their form from seal to human. He knew he had to have her and crept closer and closer, until he was able to snatch the skin away. She pleaded for it's return, offering anything to have it back. He had said he would, but only on the condition she became his wife. She relented, not having another choice. Of course, Father had then revealed that this was the story of how he met Mother."

You sat there, staring at him in shock.

"You knew that Mother and I were selkies, and you said nothing?"

"No, that's not it. I didn't believe a word of what he said, I thought it was the delusions of a sad man trying to find a reason for why his wife was so ill. I didn't start thinking of the story until Mother went visiting the beach, and even then, I wasn't sure until I saw you transform in front of my very eyes."

He sighed once more.

"But that wasn't all. Father had said that though I was human, you were a selkie, and that he had taken your skin as soon as you were born and hidden it away with Mothers. He believed that if you never had the chance to transform, the illness from Mother would lessen, and eventually, you would turn human. I thought he was mad, but now that I am able to think... he was right, wasn't he?"

You felt your heart drop to your stomach.

"Your illness wasn't as severe as Mothers. You were able to live normally for the most part. Sure, you couldn't always focus, and your mind would wander, but it was getting better, wasn't it? In a few more years, you might have turned human. Unfortunately, Mother stopped that from happening, but it can be done again."

He placed a hand on your shoulder, cold and iron tight, with a sickening smile stretched on his face.

"You'll be rid of this disease, and you can be human, like you were meant to. And I'll be here to take care of you until it happens."

You couldn't speak, couldn't move, could scarcely breathe. You could have cried, but all the tears and anger had left you earlier that day, leaving you to mutely stare at your brother, your only family, the only one you trusted, who you thought would protect you from the horrors of the world you lived in, in a complete and all consuming horror you have never felt in your life.

A moment passed, and you managed to find your words once again.

"Cillian." Your voice is quiet. A gentle breeze could drown it out.

"Cillian," you try again, "please. Where is my skin?"

His face falls and shoulders sag in disappointment.

"I know it will take you a long time to adjust, but I promise, this is for the best."

You shake your head, but he only brings you in for a hug, holding you gently as if you would shatter at a moments notice. You have no energy to fight back.

"Please. Give me back my skin."

He only shushes you, rubbing circles into your back as you continue to plead for the only thing that could make you feel whole again. You stay there until your voice goes silent, your body slack, and your eyes shut. Until you fall asleep in the arms of your brother, under the roof of your father, and under the stars that sit unmoving and unforgiving in the darkness of the night sky.

#platonic yandere #yandere platonic #yandere original character #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader

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waynes-multiverse · 1 day ago

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*gasps in excitement* FINALLY 😍😍😍

I also remember our fireplace conversation vividly 🔥 and I'm so glad it inspired such an amazing fic! You've outdone yourself with this one, Alex!! Such a sweet, incredibly romantic, and yet angsty story 🤍

Such a strong and hot start, wow! 🫠🔥

Full honesty, as a writer, starting chapters with smut always freaks me tf out. Like, where do you put the damn "keep reading" line without flashing some innocent people at work 😂

Even with the fire going and the heater running in the cabin, the frigid air outside is unforgiving.

Ooof, I know the exact feeling you're describing here. Kinda like when you're taking a hot bath but the room is cold and so everything not covered by water is freezing... 😅

You have no problem with the way Dean guides you down from the chaise to take advantage of your nest on the floor, right in front of the fire.

Oh, here we go! Executed to perfection 😏

You don’t know this, but it’s been a while since anyone but his own hand has touched him. That’s not the only reason his body has been calling to yours, but it plays a part in how fucking good it feels, and how much more he wants you.

First of all, I was just reading this whole, intensely scorching scene with a thundering heart and squeezing my damn thighs hard 😂

Secondly, I loooove this trope! It's sorta romantic?! Idk 😅🤷‍♀️ Kinda gives "waiting for the right one and not in the mood for anyone else" vibes. I did that kinda with Russell recently lol

But I love the extra intensity and specialness it gives, y'know? ❤️‍🔥

Once again, he hears you. His teeth sink into the back of your neck, making you cry out. But your pain is quickly overshadowed by a deepest pleasure, thrumming along with his.

Loved the callback of him hearing her again, although his instincts had taken over. It shows how much he cares about her and respects her 💕

And I truly wonder what Sam will say when Dean comes back with a mate lol

His words both warm you and make you sad. Just how little does he think of himself?

Oooh boy, you're about to find out, girl 😂

You sense that he’s not telling you everything. How could he? A lifetime of blood and wins and incredible losses; family gained, and family lost, endless saves, and so many near misses.

Lol I was gonna say, "How long do you guys plan on being here? This might take a while" 😂 But I'm so in love with their little afterglow bonding session ❤️❤️❤️ I honestly could read about their convos forever. They're so cute 🥹

“After the whole Chuck thing was done, I thought we’d just…go back to status quo. Me and Sam against the world, you know?” Dean says. He gives a rueful smile. “Then Sammy tells me he knocked up his mate.” You smile. “You’re happy for him though.” “Course I am,” Dean nods. “He never thought he’d get to have all that. A badass chick who can keep him on his toes, a house, the kid, the whole damn thing. He’s downright respectable again.” His brotherly pride and his humor are tinged with something else though. You think you begin to understand. His losses have weighed him down, leaving him aimless and living in that in between, not unlike the ghosts he used to hunt. You know the feeling.

We've already talked about this when he mentioned Dean jr. the first time, but my headcanon is, too, that Dean would be super happy, incredibly sad and lonely, and definitely a little envious and sour lol 😂😂

You really nailed him here! I could hear every word out of his mouth, too!! 😂🫶

It’s another week in the cabin before Dean insists on helping you down the mountain. Your ankle has gotten a little better, but at this point, you need to see a doctor. It takes a couple of days, going as slow as you need to. He ends up carrying you for most of the way anyway. You tell him over and over that he doesn’t have to, but your alpha is stubborn.

Can totally seeing him doing all of that and arguing with her throughout lol Our hero 🥹💚

He grins at the look on your face. “Hey, sweetheart. Come meet my Baby.”

Oooh, I completely forgot she doesn't yet!! Aww, she loved him before she knew he had a cool car. This is like finding out he was a millionaire and kept it a secret to find true love and weed out the gold diggers 🤣

Dean gives you a teasing smirk. “Well, technically, she’s been with me a lot longer than you.”

This had me DEAD 🤣🤣🤣

Dean blinks at your question. He whistles lowly. “About a year. Jesus, since my nephew was born.”

A year???? Jesus fuck, this is even sadder now!!! Sam was really like, "Ciao, jerk." lol

Damn, this man is old school.

Oh she's about to find out how much 😂😂💚

That was such a perfect ending! They literally drove off into the sunset together *swoon* 😍🫠🫶 (And I could totally see Dean singing along to the lyrics at the end there)

I seriously enjoyed this series so much, friend!! 🤍🤍🤍 Totally gave me those vibes 🥹💕:

Against the Wind - Part 4

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: The grand finale...

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, knotting, claiming, fluff and feels.

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 4: Running to Live

His cold hands are warming on your skin as he slides them underneath your sweater. They move smoothly up your back, bunching up the material. You break from his kiss only to help him get the sweater off you, followed closely by his pants.

Your sweatpants slide down your legs with just a sharp tug, baring most of your body to his gaze. His eyes drag over your exposed neck and shoulders, your breasts cupped in your bra, down to your panties and bare thighs.

A shiver runs through you, both from his heated gaze, and from being exposed to the cooler air. Even with the fire going and the heater running in the cabin, the frigid air outside is unforgiving.

You have no problem with the way Dean guides you down from the chaise to take advantage of your nest on the floor, right in front of the fire. He draws you into a sensuous kiss, sucking your lower lip into his mouth and grazing with teeth.

“Were you nesting, Omega?” he teases, between the sinful meetings of his lips with yours. You hum your affirmation before his tongue swipes across your lower lip, seeking entrance.

You open yourself to him in more ways than one; you slip your hands across his naked shoulders and explore the smooth planes of muscle, the dips and softness in between. You encourage him to lower down, to cover you with the length and broadness of his frame. His weight is a welcome one between your thighs and against the softness of your body.

“Was worried about you,” you whisper a confession against his lips. Dean briefly pauses, meeting your eyes.

“Thanks for waiting up,” he says, with a hint of a smile.

Your lips curve upwards in return. You reach up to caress his cheek, feeling the prickling of his stubble. Your fingers thread into his hair, and you pull him back down for a devouring kiss.

Dean’s brows furrow as he holds you to him, wanting to feel every part of your skin against his. His calloused fingers map their way down your side, and across your back to unhook your bra. His lips veer away from yours to burn a wet, heated trail along your neck. His teeth come out to graze your skin, down your throat, down the lovely valley between your breasts.

“Dean,” you gasp, encouraging him when his hand cups one of your breasts. He explores the other with his mouth, teasing a pebbled nipple with his tongue. Your fingers tighten in his hair, your thighs rubbing together between the cage of his knees in the mess of blankets. Already you feel slick forming at the apex of your thighs and slipping down in between.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin. “Fucking beautiful, you know that?”

You can’t help but smile. Your face warms either from the fire dancing shadows across your bodies, or from him, his attention, his warmth, and the heat in his eyes when they meet your again. His hand slides down your body, over your hip and squeezing your thigh as he opens you up further for him.

“Tell me what you want, Omega.” While I still have control, his tone implies. His voice is gravel and sin while his hand moves swiftly and smoothly up the inside of your thigh.

“Touch me,” you breathe.

Nodding, he hooks his fingers around the hem of your panties and slides them down. You help him kick them off. Afterward, his thumb brushes over your mound, making you sharply inhale and squeeze his shoulders encouragingly. His fingers dip inside your wet heat, his brows raising with a smirk, as he feels the sheer amount of your slick already coating his digits.

“Fuck. This all for me, baby?” he remarks.

You hold onto the back of his neck with both hands as you nod, biting your lip. Your hips begin to cant against his hand on reflex, urging him to touch you.

“Alpha, please…” you implore, in a ragged whisper. He swallows your plea with a ravaging kiss, but he still gives you what you want. His thumb circles your clit, earning a moan from you into his mouth.

Soon, two of his fingers plunge slowly inside you, working you open, drawing more gasps and shudders of pleasure from your body. His length continues to strain hard against your thigh, but for him, it’s worth it to draw every sound, every time your body writhes and arches against him, craving release.

With a few more purposeful strokes, your inner walls clamp tight on his hand, and a flood of slick coats his knuckles even more. You gasp his name, your hands squeezing his arms just as tight as your pussy around his fingers.

Your skin is beginning to get dewy with sweat, and he kisses some of it off you when he trails down your chest. You stroke down his arms, down his back, whatever you can reach as you catch your breath. But then, his name falls from your lips with a firmer tone.

Dean raises his head, and you gently push at his chest. His brows furrow in confusion, only for it to be replaced with a smile of surprise when you curl a thigh over his hip and guide him onto his back. His head just manages to fall on one of your pillows, but he still utters a small grunt. You giggle down at him, bowing to meet him for a kiss.

He smirks and holds onto your hips, playfully squeezing your ass. “My wily omega.”

“Thought I was your cheeky omega,” you tease.

He snorts. “That too.”

You giggle some more as you treat him to the same path of open-mouthed kisses down his neck. Except this time, you hook a hand behind his neck, and you trail your tongue around his mating gland. You feel his jolt of surprise, as well as his instinctive growl of pleasure in response to his mate. Or at least, not yet…

His heart pounds in his chest.

“Omega,” he says, a warning not to tease as his grip tightens on your hips.

The command in his voice makes you shiver, but you smile and nuzzle his cheek in affection. You kiss your way down his body, playing special attention to his nipples, his stomach, the soft V and the happy trail of light brown fuzz leading you down between his hips.

Your fingers slide down his hardened desire through his underwear, earning a grunt from him, along with a shifting of his body against the blankets. Your lips curve as you nuzzle him there as well, letting your lips drag across his impressive length.

His fingers tangle in your hair when you hook your nails around the waistband and free his cock from its confines. His boxers join the rest of your clothes somewhere, and finally you get to see all of him, as much as he takes in all of you. Your hand wraps around his girth, your thumb circling around the sensitive, weeping head of it. Dean groans, a sound from deep in his chest.

He feels your intentions when your hand moves down his shaft in a teasing caress, your fingers tracing around his knot. A shudder rattles down his spine, makes his desire burn hotter in the pit of his stomach.

He can’t fucking take it anymore. He needs you, needs to be inside you. Needs to take you the way his instincts demand.

He grasps your shoulder before you put your mouth on him. You blink up at him, with a question forming on your lips, but he hefts you up onto his chest by your arms. He cages you there with a kiss filled with abject need.

“I can’t. Can’t wait anymore,” he says. He drags his fingers through your folds and earns another moan from your when he finds your clit. “You ready for me, Omega? Need my knot?”

“Yeah,” you nod, agreeing against his lips. “Need you, Alpha—”

No sooner had the words escaped your lips, when Dean rolls you back underneath him. But this time, he guides you onto your stomach, then raises up your hips, until you’re on your hands and knees. You catch your breath as you regain your bearings, shooting an incredulous smile over your shoulder at Dean. He smirks back at you, but his gaze is intense, his pupils darkened with the alpha inside him.

Still, he soothes a hand down your back and steadies you with a hold on your hip. You feel him slot himself behind you, guiding his cock at your entrance. His chest presses hotly against your back.

“Last chance, Omega,” he says, his voice tight with restraint.

You look back at him again over your shoulder, your mouth threatening to frown. You reach back and sink your fingers into his hair with a sharp tug. “Do it.”

He sinks into you with one smooth plunge. It’s a relief for both of you, your mingled moans echoing in the near silence. All that’s left is the sound of your quickening breaths, of skin against sweat-slick skin as you move together.

Dean brushes your hair away from your neck. He kisses and licks his way along your bare shoulder, and finally the back of your neck. You’re trembling by the time his lips find the sensitive flesh of your mating gland. It echoes with the pulsing from your core as he continues to drive into you.

“Alpha,” you gasp on reflex. You squeeze his arm; he has it wrapped tight around your middle. Your pleasure builds ever closer to that crescendo, especially as his thrusts become ragged, at an angle that zips delicious tingles through your core. “Close…just…I need…”

Dean isn’t so far gone. He hears you, and helps you, reaching his hand around to strum his fingers insistently on your clit, along with his final thrusts.

Finally, it tumbles you over. Your inner walls become impossibly tight around him as he draws out your second release—one that triggers his own. Dean groans into your ear; his knot swells and locks into place, and he spends himself deep inside you. He pants hot against your neck, but even though he fastens his lips there, he hesitates, once again making you shudder.

“Do it,” you repeat, in a coarse whisper. You’re close to tears. “Please. Want you, Alpha. Need you…”

Once again, he hears you.

His teeth sink into the back of your neck, making you cry out. But your pain is quickly overshadowed by a deepest pleasure, thrumming along with his.

Afterward, Dean holds you in his arms. The warm glow of the fire paints your skin in its light, despite the utter darkness in the rest of the house.

While you both wait for his knot to subside, you revel in the fact that you know he’s content. You can feel it through the newly formed bond. He traces random shapes in your skin, which still glistens with a fine sheen of sweat. The fire he stoked doesn’t help to cool you down, but you don’t care.

Nothing else matters but this. You turn your head toward him over your shoulder. He meets you there with a gentle kiss, much more gentle than any other you’ve shared before. It feels right.

When he parts from you, he presses another kiss to your forehead. Then he leans back a little and sighs. You feel his thumb trace the raw flesh around the claiming mark on your neck. A small shiver runs through your body. Maybe on another day, you’ll mark him in return.

“It’s too damn late,” he says, breaking the silence. “You realize that right?”

You shoot him a frown. “Too late for what?”

“For me to let you go,” he says.

His words both warm you and make you sad. Just how little does he think of himself?

“Dean,” you say, endeavoring to be patient. “You’re my true mate. Do you know how rare it is that we’ve actually found each other?”

Dean remains quiet.

“And after everything you’ve done for me,” you add, “how can I not think you’re a good man? How can I not think this is right?”

He seems to consider your question. His gaze briefly falls, then meets your eyes again.

“You don’t know me that well,” is his answer, with a wry turn of his lips.

You reach back to caress his cheek. “Then tell me. Tell me about, um…tell me about how you became a hunter. From your dad’s journal, I got the sense that it’s a family thing.”

A vendetta, you wanted to say, but you keep that thought inside.

Dean chuckles, dropping another kiss onto your shoulder. You feel the pleasurable rasp of his stubble.

“Yeah, more like a family business,” he says.

He tells you why John Winchester started writing in that journal in the first place. Dean explains it in his own words, of what his family was before and after a demon broke into his brother’s nursery. Your heart continues to break for him, over and over, the more story he tells. Your shock can only reach new heights when he tells you about angels and demons and everything in between.

There are moments where he pauses, needing the time to find his words. He’s talked for so long that his knot finally softens, allowing you to withdraw from him, just to turn in his arms and be able to see his face. He bundles you in the blankets to keep you warm, but he also keeps you close, with a loose arm around your waist as he continues.

You sense that he’s not telling you everything. How could he? A lifetime of blood and wins and incredible losses; family gained, and family lost, endless saves, and so many near misses. You listen with rapt attention (and a lot of shock) to everything he can share, but your heart twinges when you see how he struggles to talk about his mother’s most recent death. Then his best friend Cas.

You realize that this man, for all his self-deprecation, is a hero. More so than you already knew.

You smile. “You’re happy for him though.”

“Course I am,” Dean nods. “He never thought he’d get to have all that. A badass chick who can keep him on his toes, a house, the kid, the whole damn thing. He’s downright respectable again.”

His brotherly pride and his humor are tinged with something else though. You think you begin to understand. His losses have weighed him down, leaving him aimless and living in that in between, not unlike the ghosts he used to hunt. You know the feeling.

You thread your fingers with his, earning his attention.

“You can have that too, you know,” you say. “I mean, I don’t want to skip ahead, but I feel like things are going well here, despite the whole busted ankle thing.”

Dean slowly smiles, shaking his head. He brings your hand up to his lips.

“Okay, enough about my Hallmark movie life. What about you?” he asks.

So you tell him.

You two continue to share and explore, both in words and with your bodies, until morning comes.

Once he gets you back to the city, you two take a shuttle to the nearest hospital. X-rays are taken, and you get a new cast for your officially fractured ankle. At the very least, you don’t need surgery. You’re able to call your mom from there and let her know where you’ve been, that you’re all right, and best of all…that you’ve found your mate.

You cry along with her on the phone, this time for a good reason. The best reason.

When you’re eventually released from the hospital, Dean picks you up in a sleek, black Chevy that has your eyes wide.

He grins at the look on your face. “Hey, sweetheart. Come meet my Baby.”

He parks the car and keeps the heater running while he comes around to you in swift strides. He takes your crutches and slides them into the backseat, then helps you into the passenger seat.

“It’s beautiful, but my God, how old is this thing?”

“She. She’s a she.”

“Oh, pardon me,” you say in amusement. “Do I have some competition here?”

Dean gives you a teasing smirk. “Well, technically, she’s been with me a lot longer than you.”

You scoff incredulously. He laughs and takes your hand, pressing a kiss into your palm. You discreetly study him and marvel at how much lighter he seems. You don’t know how much is because of this, what your hand in his symbolizes, and how much is because he’s reunited with something important to him.

“It’s okay, Omega mine,” he says, with a measure of desire in his eyes. “From now on, you’re my priority.”

Your spine prickles with the same arousal you can feel from him through the bond. You lean across the way and share a thorough kiss.

Until a horn honks loudly from behind. You both jolt, but Dean’s face falls into annoyance. He shoots up a choice finger at the car behind him in the rearview mirror. You laugh as he begins to peel out of the curved pick-up and drop-off zone in front of the hospital.

“Where are we going, Dean?” you ask, still smiling in amusement.

“Wherever we damn well please.” He turns to you with a hint of a smile reforming on his lips. “Want me to take you back home? We can sort out the logistics on, uh…well, this.”

You think about it. He poses a good idea, but at the same time, you’re not quite ready for this part of the adventure to end.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen Sam?” you ask.

Dean blinks at your question. He whistles lowly. “About a year. Jesus, since my nephew was born.”

You smile and reach over, resting your hand on his thigh.

“Let’s go see him, then,” you say. “I want to meet your family. Then you can meet mine.”

After that, you two can figure out the rest, like where to live, and how you’ll live.

Dean raises a brow. “Really? That’s like, a thirteen-hour drive.”

You shrug. “I’ve always wanted to go on a real road trip. Can we get some food first though? I’m starving.”

He laughs and nods as he stops the car at a red light.

“What do you know? A woman after my own heart,” he says. His amusement eases into a gentler smile the longer he stares at you. You smile back, and you give into the urge to lean in again, meeting your lips with his. He brushes your cheek tenderly with his thumb.

“I know what this needs,” he says lowly. Your brows draw together in a silent question.

He pulls away to reach into the side compartment along the driver door. He fishes out a cassette tape labelled Zeppelin IV. You bite your lip and try not to say anything smartassed.

Damn, this man is old school.

He skips ahead until he finds Track 7, just as the light turns green. A melodious guitar riff fills the car as he turns onto the main road with your hand wrapped in his.

Made up my mind to make a new start.

Going to California with an aching in my heart…

AN: And that's all, folks! 🥹 I truly hope you enjoyed Against the Wind!

Like I said in a recent update, I have more stories in store for you guys. January 3 will be Part 1 of Outlander -- sequel to The Honorable Choice -- a Western AU with Dean as our resident cowboy! I'll post a sneak peek on that one soon.~

But in the meantime, I hope you'll let me know what you thought of ATW! 💜💜

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hoonieyun · 3 days ago

Text

meet the potential and future lovebirds!

welcome to, "is he mr. right?", the dating game! where a lucky girl who is looking for love has the opportunity to go on a date with four handsome and eager bachelor's who are also looking for love.

this is an interactive dating show au where the readers can vote on "yn's" decisions, ultimately leading to who she will be with at the end... but more on that later!

heeseung 𐐪♡𐑂 jongseong 𐐪♡𐑂 jaeyun 𐐪♡𐑂 sunghoon

warnings: nothing really? maybe like judgemental glances and awkward tension? lmk if i miss something, 18+ not proofread lol!

wc: 2571

episode one: meet the potential and future lovebirds

“welcome! welcome! i’m your host, the love guru, and today we’ve got a great lineup of people who are looking to find the love of their lives!” the host of the dating show, “is he mr. right?” says to the audience, a roar of applause erupts within the room as she addresses the crowd. the host was beautiful, big bouncy hair and a bright smile as the spotlight found its way to her. waving and greeting some audience members.

“let’s get right into it, shall we?” the love magician says as she further hypes up the crowd. “now let’s go over how this show works…

we bring in a lovely contestant who we call “the dove” and she will have the opportunity to get to know our bachelors before she chooses who she wants to go on a date first. once she’s able to go on a date with each bachelor; she’ll have the chance to make her final pick on who her mr. right will be! and with the help of you guys at home and in the live audience, you all will be able to vote on who you think she should choose as her mr. right!

got it? good, because i’m not repeating myself.”

the host jokingly says and a successful applause and laughter can be heard in response.

“now, let’s bring in our dove! every one please give a warm welcome to YN!” the love guru says, waving her hand around as a wall rises, revealing you.

you were fairly nervous, you weren’t entirely sure why you were going on a dating show so soon after your breakup but your friends pushed you to do it, having signed you up without your knowledge and by the time it came around you were too deep into it to back out. you had to do several background checks and interviews with the show's producers before you were even chosen but it seemed like you were the right pick for them because the producers loved your energy and smile. your friends had convinced you to go further with the interviews and before you knew it, you were willing to go along with all of it.

even when you would tell your friends that maybe it’s too soon to get back into dating, they would all roll their eyes and remind you that it’s almost been a year since the breakup and that you need to put yourself out there.

so here you are now, standing behind a levitating wall and waiting for the dating show host who calls herself “the love guru” to introduce you and begin the show.

your nerves were through the roof because not only has it been a long time since you’ve dated but you never thought that it would be on a dating show of all things– your heart was beating in your ears when suddenly the wall in front of you was raised and you’re met with bright lights and and the sounds of applause drown out the sound of your own heartbeat.

in almost an instant you snap into a different person, like your show mode just activates.

a smile spreads across your face as you carefully walk down the stairs, waving at the audience and taking in all of the cheers and welcome from the audience.

“you are so beautiful, yn! are you ready to find mr. right?” the love guru asks you and you nodded, your smile widening as your eyes squint just a bit as you adjust to the lighting.

"so, yn.. tell us a little bit about yourself?" the host asks you as you’re waving to everyone cheering you on.

"well.. i like to read books, baking, and taking long walks to the bank because my future man better have a hefty bank account." you joke with the audience and to your surprise they accept your humor just fine as you were a bit scared that it wouldn’t come out as a joke and you didn’t want to be seen as a gold digger.

“perfect answer! now, tell us why you are on this show?” the host asks and you explain your somewhat long history of dating and what ultimately got you on the show. the crowd ooh’d and aww’d at your story of how your last relationship ended because the two of you just couldn’t see eye to eye on where your relationship was going.

you wanted to have more freedom in your life and felt that you were too young to settle down but your ex was ready to do just that. he often would talk about your life in the future, having a family, buying your dream house, and raising your family until the two of you became old and wrinkly.

and although it sounded nice, you weren’t ready for that and it seemed like it was all moving too fast. so you ended up breaking off your year and a half long relationship and fast forward 8 months; here you are now ready to find your mr. right.

“what are you looking for in a man?” the love guru asks.

“aside from a man that has a wallet that’s heavy–” you joke once again.

“i want someone who understands me the way my best friends do, someone who is honest and smart, maybe a little shy? but he likes being outgoing with me..

oh! and a guy who knows how to communicate and has a good hold on his emotions. i’m not looking for someone perfect because i wanna grow with him but i’m also not here to look for someone who has no idea of who he is.” you confidently respond and you earn nods and smiles from the audience, indicating that they either agree or find your answer admirable.

“love these answers, yn! we’ve got some really cute bachelor’s lined up for you so why don’t you put these sound proof headphones on as we introduce our bachelor’s to our audience!” the love guru instructs as you take the headphones from one of the assistants, sliding it onto your head carefully so you don’t ruin your hair.

you were excited to get to know the bachelor’s because eventually they’d be someone you were going to go on a date with and potentially be your future boyfriend. the audience smiled and laughed at you as you slightly danced around to the music playing through the headphones.

“isn’t she cute, guys?” the love guru asks the audiences and they all cheer.

“alright! let’s get to know our bachelor’s and potentially, yn’s future mr. right!” she says and with tv magic, four guys suddenly appear, all of them sitting on stools and waving to the audience present in the studio.

“ok! let’s go down the line! please introduce yourself, starting with you.” the love guru says, gesturing to the first guy sitting on the stool from the left.

“um.. hi guys. my name is sunghoon.” he says timidly with a tightlipped smile and the love guru just knows the girls in the audience and at home are swooning at his shy demeanor. “tell us sunghoon, what are you looking for?” the love guru asks, trying to get more information out of the shy boy for television purposes.

“um..” he begins, scratching his head slightly. “i’m not sure.. i want her to be sweet and nice.. i think?” sunghoon says and as the audience oohs and awws at his response, a shade of pink spreads across his cheeks as he gets shy from their reactions.

“well, best of luck to you sunghoon! maybe our dove can bring you out of your shell.” she teases and he just nods with a small smile. sunghoon wasn’t completely sure why he ever decided to be on this show. he wasn’t the most outgoing person and truly he only had a few friends who have ever witnessed his true persona. he was shy, there was no hiding that, but he was looking for someone he can be himself around.

someone who wouldn’t force him to be outgoing and would welcome his naturally timid demeanor to the point where he’d be comfortable enough around them so that he could slowly but surely, show more of his personality. a lot of sunghoon’s friends say that he’s funny and a sweet guy and that any girl would be lucky to have him as their boyfriend; but sunghoon thinks his shyness was a curse. sure, some girls found it cute at first but the longer they realized he was shy and not just putting on an act, they’d lose interest just as fast as they got it.

he just wants someone to get him.

“alright, your turn! tell us about yourself, fluffy hair!” the love guru once again gestures to the next guy and he chuckles at her nickname for him. his soft and slightly curly hair does make it look like he’s extra fluffy and the audience definitely agrees as they all cheer for the cute nickname.

“hi everyone, my name is jake, im from australia and i’m here to not only be someone’s mr. right but to be their mr. forever.” jake announces and his thick australian accent instantly has all of the girls in the audience melting. his voice was like silk and everyone was instantly entranced.

“love the accent! what brings you over here?” the love guru asks.

“to find love. i want to settle down and start living my dream world with my dream girl.” jake explains and he’s slightly startled when the audience erupts in adoration for him. his head whips around from looking at the host to the audience and although he can barely see them because of the bright stage lights, he can make out a few smiles in the crowd.

“well mr. aussie, let’s see if our dove is ready to live with you in your dream world as your dream girl!” she says enthusiastically before moving to the next bachelor.

jake was ready. for all of it. he’s wanted to settle down and build a family for a while now but after his last failed relationship he had to reevaluate a lot of his decisions. was he ready to settle down? he was so young but that’s what he wanted.

he wanted to live in his dream home with his dream girl and build the family of his dreams so they could all live happily. sure it may seem a bit immature to imagine such a fairytale life, but that’s what he wanted and hopefully this show will be the start of that.

“you know the drill, tell us about yourself.” she says shortly as she arrived to the third bachelor. “what’s up, everyone. i’m heeseung and i know i’m going to be mr. right.- looking beautiful by the way miss love guru.” he says while flashing his smile and twinkling eyes. the audience absolutely falls in love with him.

his charm was on a different love and heeseung just oozed a different type of confidence that the show hadn’t seen prior. “why, thank you.” she responds.

“but flattery will get you nowhere, i’m not the dove.” she teases and the audience laughs at her joke while heeseung nods and chuckles, his laugh causing the audience to fall even deeper for him. they look at him adoring as the spotlight seems to shine so much brighter on him than the previous bachelors.

“what are you looking for in a girl?” she asks and heeseung’s face slightly contorted with thought.

“someone my parents would be proud of. i want them to look at my future wife and think about all the ways they can brag to the world about how i’ve got the best wife.” heeseung says and although the answer wasn’t traditional in the slightest, the love guru nods her head in response.

was she impressed with the answer? sure. was it slightly strange? a bit!

the audience however, didn’t care. they were going to love anything that heeseung said because he was just so charming and alluring, he had the audience eating out of his palm.

heeseung was somewhat known as a playboy within his friend circle. sure he’s only had 1 or 2 girlfriends but he was known to be a serial dater. it may seem like a bad thing but he doesn’t think. unashamed that he’s gone on several dates because he was looking for the right girl. he wanted to make sure that the girl he’d be marrying was the one his parents also wanted him to marry.

it’s where his charm came from. his parents always boasted about how good of a son he was, bragging to his relatives about his intelligence, successes, and prowess. it was only fair that heeseung also found someone his parents would be proud of.

“last in line, hello hello! tell us a bit about yourself.” she says once again and the last guy clears his throat before answering and the room is dead silent. his presence alone was so strong that the audience couldn’t help but have their mouths agape. he was handsome with sharp features paired with a mysterious aura that surrounded him.

“hey, i’m jay.” he says, short and sweet.

although he didn’t have much to say, the audience swooned at his cool demeanor and laid back vibe. incomparison to sunghoon who had received a few awkward glances for his short response because of his shyness, jay received heart eyes from the crowd because they found him to be mysterious, like he was a puzzle to be solved.

“we’ve got a few shy ones in the cast this time huh?” she says, looking directly into the camera and as if on cue, the audience erupts in laughter. “nah, not shy. just saving myself for the dove.” jay speaks up and although he wasn’t necessarily addressed by the love guru; his confidence in answering her regardless of being referenced made the audience want to know even more about him.

“well! there you have it! our four bachelors and one of them will be our dove’s mr. right! tune in next week for the question and answer portion and first rounds of voting on who you, at home, think she should go on a date first!” the love guru says and continues to go on about the show's logistics. the first episode is typically the shortest as it only includes introductions while the rest of the episodes would play out a lot longer.

jay tunes her out once she steps away and does her job as a host to close out the show. he was slightly relieved that she didn’t ask any questions further and wasn’t a victim of the audiences judging glances like the first guy. he felt bad for him because he could tell that he was just shy and wasn’t deserving of the perception of the audience for one instance.

jay wasn’t sure what he was looking for in a girl nor did he know what he was even doing here. he had a lot to go through in his head and he somehow found himself on a dating show. he was trying to understand who he was as a person and he assumed that what better way to get to know yourself than through the lense of someone who loves you right?

surely, he’d find love one way or another.

𐐪♡𐑂 next ep

hoonieyun notes: first ep is out wooo!! i wanted to keep what number each enha member would a mystery because moving forward, they will be referred to as bachelor's 1-4 instead of their names. only i will know which number they are so you guys will also be playing into the mystery of who yn will end up going on a date with when you guys vote! also updates will be every saturday at 6pm pst <3

copyright 2025 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

ᡣ•.•𐭩♡ @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @17ericas @manaah02 @heeseung64 @zorange13 @firstclassjaylee @leipforggy

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bylrndgm · 6 months ago

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JULIE AND THE PHANTOMS (2020) // JULIE E OS FANTASMAS (2011) 1.01 - Wake Up // 1.01 - Enfrentando Fantasmas -> Julie meets the Band.

#julie and the phantoms #julie e os fantasmas #jatp #mine #mine:gif #storytime: when i was in middle school i found myself to be obsessed with julie e os fantasmas (jeof)#and by watching it i have learned some words in portoguese which - later in my life - i have always wanted to learn better #besides that - in middle school i used to wear julie's iconic side ponytail !! i was THE biggest jeof fan like EVER #i used to watch it with my little sister and i would pretend i had some ghosts friends as well - popping out of my stereo (lol)#so... flash forward to 2020. i can't recall HOW i found out about jatp... it's just that i have heard of it and i was like hold on...#does this have to do anything with jeof? so i was super intrigued and watched the pilot and YES!! a brand new up-to-date remake #of my favorite tv show as a kid LIKE WOW. and idk i thought it was somehow underground as the og one ... saw NO ONE talking about it online #until up recently when i got back on tumblr (actually 2 years ago) and i saw there was this LIVELY community of people appreaciating this #show AS MUCH as i was appreciating the og as a youngster.#goes without saying that it was so surprising to me and it healed parts of me that i didn't think needed to be healed. wow. just wow.#i have never posted content for these two bad boys #mostly bcs i was salty that jatp was canceled (ugh) until now!! i hope you enjoyyyyy #ALSO i remember as a kid i was watching jeof on tv right? but i had missed some episodes so i remember LMAO going online and there was this #website (like a random person's own website) that was hosting all of the episodes. my very first experience with streaming series online

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sysig · 4 months ago

Note

Maybe requestober prompt of soft?

Day 5 - Pile o' plushies

#My art #Requestober #Webkinz #Original #Tala #A whole big bunch of plushies! Everyone here is a plush! ♥#Or well I guess Embroidery (Floppy Eared Bunny) isn't she's a digital pet but everyone else is!#Tala lives on the same shelf as my Webkinz - or at least the one's that I've got on display #Some are still lost in the shuffle - specifically my horses for some reason?? What's with that #Sapphire (lilKinz Unicorn) at least makes some degree of sense since she's so small but I found Duke and Halloween!#(Which are the lilKinz Basset Hound and Oriole respectively - isn't it fun that certain birds were lilKinz exclusives hehe)#Of the group she's the only one missing tho - everyone else is here and now!#Got all the full sized 'Kinz on one side - Sugar (Googles) Fluffy (Pink Poodle) and Diamond (B+W Cat) were my first three <3 #Although lol I never got to play with Diamond digitally because her gift-giver wasn't familiar with the concept so got rid of her tag #Someday tho!#I've recently gotten back into Webkinz (again lol) and brought smol with me this time :)#It's been fun! Though it's had me itching to go shopping for codes and plushies again lol #There's one Webkinz that looks Kind of similar to Tala's plush form but I've never owned it so I opted to just leave her as herself #It might be fun to see if I could get that one and have her in-game haha #Webkinz are definitely her jam :) She's fully adopted Mimzy (Whimsy Dragon) as well!#I don't hold out a lot of hope of recovering my old account at this point but I would like to recreate my old cast if I can #Several are available in the eShop! Or at least aren't retired so #Plus the thrill of the hunt is fun >:3c #But just the thought of play is enjoyable ♪ Of the rest and softness hehe <3

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rogerbarel · 1 day ago

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I am very fond of interpretations that are, "the text, but a little to the left," because I think they tell us about what the reader finds interesting and meaningful. I want to see things I wouldn't have thought of! There are as many Treys in this world as there are readers, and that's exciting! Tbh I originally came from the TWST community on Twitter, which did NOT see it this way and loved to throw around the accusation of nonexistent media literacy (while clearly not knowing what that entails), so I didn't share my thoughts very often.

I agree, that person would have to prove it! Trey is too cautious to be so forthright with just anybody, and I'm sure he knows that some people think they can handle the truth when they absolutely cannot. That process of earning trust is something I think about a lot and want to watch. Sorry to Vil but l I kind of love his "spoiling/babying." Some of us want a little of that in our lives!! l think that even if he manages to drop that anxious anticipation of every possible bad outcome, he will still be prone to spoiling his loved ones (with a big side of teasing). But he's gotta have a positive--not so anxious--relationship with that behavior before he can indulge in it without risk of burning himself out. Basically... I hope he can take that babying urge and apply it not to avoiding crisis/placating people, but showing appreciation when he wants.

I also love a self-indulgent HC. I've been in different fandoms where people were way more willing to go off the walls with those, and I miss it. I just wish we had a chiller fandom environment, man. I love his lil mean streak!! I've referred to the TWST boys as sour patch kids in the past, and I'll stick by it. Mean on the outside, something not-nice-but-perhaps-more-affectionate on the inside. Trey is just kind of reversed in that regard. I don't think he'd pull a Floyd Dorm Card busting down someone's door if he didn't check himself, but he could get... Hmm. What's the word I'm looking for... Sneaky? The tiniest bit sleazy? And also shady. Definitely shady. There's definitely some deadpan sarcastic internal commentary going on there.

The teasing is one of the BEST parts of a big brother archetype!! 😭 He's a tease, kinda goofy, and plays childish pranks when he can! Like Malleus, his juxtaposition of maturity and childishness ends up making him cuter imo.

I want him to be doted upon! Praised, spoiled, given what he deserves and then some! 😭😭😭 He wouldn't have a damn clue what to do with himself! This reminds me of how much I miss Ghost Bride. Trey got absolutely no game... Either he's gonna woo someone half by accident or someone's gonna have to eat him up.

Nope, never cried! Just kind of... in shock. Where did he develop that habit of immediately trying to fix things? Is it because he's an eldest brother who needs to be (and look) reliable, or something else? I think if he cries, my wailing will be heard throughout the world. I'll put it on my wall.

I know he's more popular, at least with yumes, in JP, and I've seen a blog or two discussing that his subtlety is probably a big part of that. Not only is this an EN/JP difference, but it could an age difference, too--EN has a younger audience, supposedly, who are perhaps less charmed by the concept of "Boring" but steady.

I think people consider him both boring and not... as visually exciting... as much of the cast lol. He is just a guy with grass on his head. And so, as you said, people aren't as interested in delving into his appeal. I think a small twist would be nice. Something to give Ace and Deuce a good surprise when they get into his dream. But not a supervillain one. Albeit I will probably still be in love with him if that happens, too. (I actually kinda like Hans ngl. The buildup sucks, but conceptually he is so yummy.)

Triple-Layer Cake/A Half-Baked Trey Clover Ramble

I've done this rant in more private places but am finally putting it on tumblr. This is going to be its third rewrite (if you count the time I did it as a fifty-tweet thread on yumepriv, which I'm not sure you should), but it is probably not any more cohesive since that isn't my strong suit. I'm basically throwing possible motivations for Trey's behavior at a wall and seeing what sticks. I also still don't know if I'm cooking, stating what everybody already knows, or am drawing completely unreasonable conclusions unsupported by the text. Nonetheless, I scream into the void once again. Actual material under the cut.

contains spoilers for EN-unreleased birthday vignettes

A while back, before I was even on tumblr again, this screenshot of a tumblr post about fandom misinterpreting a character in the exact way that character would want to be misinterpreted was floating around. And it made me think of Trey because approximately 50% of things do. For as long as I've been adjacent to the fandom, there's been this whole debate on how much of his "responsible big brother" image is deliberate/fake vs how much of it is genuine.

And I don't know if I like that more either/or approach to him. Trey's like Shrek. An ogre. An onion. He's got layers. But he's also a baker, and cakes are sexier than onions, so I'm opting for the more thematically appropriate analogy even if it doesn't work as well as far as visibility goes. (Although I suppose you might taste the layers separately/in order.) I'm honestly just being stubborn with this analogy. Bear with me, please.

Everybody sees his nurturing top layer, both in- and out-of-universe. But beneath that, he's a little selfish and vindictive. There's no denying this based on how he capitalizes on any chance to incur a favor as well as his preferences for revenge over forgiveness (see: wanting to watch Savanaclaw get their asses handed to them after his injury, making his underclassmen eat their cataclysmic cake after they insulted his work, Doodle Suiting his upperclassmen's cakes to be ultra spicy after they threw him under the bus as a freshman). He even admits to Epel that he's not a good person. He knows what he is.

But the way he does it has always sat oddly with me. It seems like overkill. Unnecessary. Why not let people think well of him? It reminds me of Vil's labwear vignette where he downplays his skills. He gives a too-quick protest that Vil suspects is part of an intentional image of humility. In that case, insisting that he has bad traits is just showing that he has another trait people tend to like (modesty). It's not like Epel responds to Trey's self-effacement by saying, "Oh, you really must be kinda shitty if you say so!" So I think this modesty contributes to his super average "everyguy" image as well as lightly dissuades people from thinking he's too good or reliable. No "You can count on me!" hero volunteering.

If he seems too nice, like Neige, folks might become suspicious and start playing closer attention to him, especially at a school like NRC. They may either want to see him finally snap and show what he's "really" like (to be fair, I also want to see him snap), or they may look for a way to take advantage of him. And he has enough on his plate as is!! Can't have more people who think he can shoulder it all. Trey needs to be unremarkable, so he needs to remind people that he has flaws besides his taste in hats, even if he rarely lets them show. (More on why they don't show in a bit.)

I think my reading diverges from some others' (at least those I've seen in the twt circles I inhabit) here: Even with all his vindictive tendencies, he's still deeply devoted to his loved ones. I don't think it's accurate to say that the cruel, manipulative Trey is the "real" Trey, or at least the whole real Trey. It's just a part of him. The care that he shows for Riddle, his siblings, and the named Heartslabyul characters is largely genuine.

He can act selfishly, don't get me wrong. It bugs me when people forget that. He's been dismissive toward Cater in favor of Riddle (moreso in EN than JP), and he subtly and not-so-subtly manipulates people for his benefit and the group's benefit multiple times. But it's not necessarily because he sees them as tools or playthings, which is a reading I've seen a surprising amount of times. (That being said, it is a fun one if you're exaggerating a character's villainous traits! I think he could treat someone like this under the right circumstances. You could write Trey with more of this quality, and it could be believable. But I don't think it cancels out his ability to care for people entirely.) It's just something he thinks is at least somewhat acceptable to do to others, even his loved ones. Maybe he rationalizes it. Maybe he can't help but find a little pleasure in playing with him, no matter how much we cares. If we can accept that Jade shows Floyd and Azul love through his desire to put them through an emotional saw trap, it's not too far-fetched to suggest that Trey's definition of love allows for manipulation or desire to see someone cry. He can rationalize lying to them for the sake of stability or not letting them know about his own desires. I also think that the internal conflict between "I care for these people deeply" and "I will still manipulate them" is more likely to drive him to admit that he's not a good person than not caring for them at all. Seems like a bad strategic move to admit that if you're really just using them as playthings.

Trey doesn't always know the best way to support his loved ones (understandable! How many of us struggle with this far into adulthood?) and thus conflates the stability they need with an unrocked boat. He doesn't recognize that a situation like Riddle's is inherently unstable and always will be if nothing changes. He, at least at first, seems to believe that the shitty situation you know is better than risking it all and potentially losing everything. He knows that he's failing Riddle, but what can he do? From Trey's perspective, he is a large part of the reason--if not the reason--that Riddle was locked away from the world once. What if he fucks it up again? What if he loses Riddle forever this time? (I think this history and fear is also one that keeps him from trying to close the distance between himself and Cater.)

Convincing himself that he's a bad person (which seems like a needlessly heavy judgment for the fairly mild pettiness we've seen from him in the text) might also soften the blow if things do go wrong. This way, he can convince himself that he didn't care as much as people assume he did. Love doesn't go into the things he does, or so he says. (It's even more questionable since he directly contradicts this statement in his alchemy dialogue. What is the truth, Trey Nicole Clover?)

So, to bring it all back around to the Trey cake, I think his bottom layer is anxious. And tired. Not in a way that is consistently, consciously anxious. Don't write him up a Prozac prescription yet. He's internalized these ideas that he shouldn't be noticeable, because when he does noticeable things, they go very wrong. His purpose is to keep people's lives running smoothly. So he sends those caregiving tendencies into overdrive. He's got it covered, he doesn't need more to cover, and hat's all anybody really needs to know about him. Even that is a bit too much sometimes.

Based on how Trey talks about his family, I don't think he was neglected or super duper parentified, but he doesn't talk much at all about things that they've done for him in comparison to how often he talks about what he's done for them (cooking when his parents' work took precedence, sewing his siblings' Halloween costumes, getting Magift tickets for his brother). He never shows any bitterness about it, and I think their relationship is genuinely pretty okay. No resentment there. But it is noticeavle, and he also won't even be straightforward about what he wants for himself on events where he is expected to want. He says he's joking after requesting that other people take on his chores for the day on his birthday; he uses indirect rather than direct methods to persuade Riddle to get a food processor for Heartslabyul during Starsending. Dude, you probably could have just asked.

I think Trey has this idea that he doesn't need to (or at least shouldn't) ask for anything. If I reach reeeeeeeealllll hard, I could say that one of our biggest examples of Trey wanting and pursuing something as a child--Riddle's friendship--clearly traumatized Riddle, and it had a massive impact on Trey, too. So Trey learns not to want, or at least not to be SEEN wanting.

Is this why he wants to seem so average, unremarkable, modest in others' eyes? Because wanting something is dangerous, even if it's just recognition? Just how much did the loss of one his best friends as a child fuck him up? He might not even recognize the mental association he makes; lots of people don't until they've done a lot of really intentional work about that. He just says it's easier this way, to be a cog in everybody else's lives. And it is, to some extent, but it's also deeply frustrating and exhausting. (I'd like to see more interactions between him and Jamil, who also hides his true potential, and very clearly suffers for it.)

So I think some of Trey's middle layer pettiness--not all of it, since his birthday vignettes show that he's been a bit of a troll ever since he was a kid--comes from the tension between his visible "caretaker" layer and his ultra-hidden "appreciation would be nice" layer. He reminds me a little bit of a mom who occasionally wants to snap because she feels like she does everything, and everybody just takes it for granted. He's not all "let daddy take care of you kitten," but he's not all cruel and calculating, either. And he might be less vindictive (but no less of a prankster) if he felt appreciated, but he's never going to tell anybody that he wants that. (There's a nonzero chance that he finds openly craving emotional validation somewhat too feminine for him because he's one of the only characters to comment on something being embarrassing "as a man," the other being Epel obvs, and I, like many others, have zeroed in on what this could mean about his feelings on masculinity overall in comparison to other chars. Some people think he's a straight up closet malicious misogynist, but I doubt it. That's a whole other conversation, though, which would probably run entirely on vibes.)

Does he even recognize that he's got a third layer to his Cake of the Self any time other than when Kalim semi-inadvertently calls him out? Or does he consciously push down the desire to be apprecaited? Is it painful? How painful? Does he want a break, or just acknowledgement? Does he feel like the desire to be a caretaker can't coexist with the desire to be gifted a break, to be the one taken care of for once?

This has been really really all over the place, and I apologize for that, but it just really gets my goat when people don't consider that third layer. "Trey is just a shitty guy who doesn't experience attachment or empathy (and goes out of his way to say the things he does aren't about love and then contradicts himself later) or guilt and simply feigns kindness" feels too easy. Like another thing he'd be happy to let others believe so that he can continue to hide something else. And I, in my delulu heart of hearts, think that "something else" is desire and the fear of it.

I'm currently divided on if I think the boys' dream bubbles represent their wants or just what Malleus thinks they would want, but either way, I'm hoping Trey's dream will give us a little more insight into his head. And if I was wrong about all of this, then I'll go sleep under the bed for a while and cry about how much of the fic-that-only-exists-in-my-head must be rewritten, but at least we'll have some answers. Oh Heartslabyul, I miss you so.

#trey clover #twisted wonderland #twst

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