#i was gonna finish it and just... forgot... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sonotpattismith · 2 days ago

Text

while i'm here writing songs for you

pairing: musician!choso x childhood friend!reader word count: 10.6k content: childhood friends to lovers, everyone knows they're in love except them, jealousy, mentions of virginity loss, dying on the grunge choso hill, lil angst, fluff, smut, 18+ inspired by: bless the telephone by labi siffre

“Hah! Your old man’s gonna kill me.”

Through shut eyes, a freshly eighteen-year-old Choso bit back an amused grin as best he could as to avoid disrupting his uncle’s work against his face.

“Nah, he caught Yuji at a casino this week, so I’m the golden boy for the foreseeable future while he’s grounded.” The boy muttered with a small smirk. He did feel for his little brother, often sneaking into his room with his console to entertain him for at least a short while in the midst of his prison sentence. Still, he had to admit that his timing was impeccable— giving the older sibling the perfect cushion to fall back to when Jin sees what his son had done to celebrate his birthday.

“Shit, yeah, I almost forgot.” Sukuna mumbled with a tickled shake of his head as he gripped at his nephew’s forehead in concentration. “Let the brat know I’ve still got his money whenever my boring ass brother lets him off house arrest.”

“Choso!”

The boy was eternally grateful that his uncle wasn’t as jumpy as he was, the man tightening his grip around his head in preparation for his jolt of surprise at the sudden shout.

“Ohhh, I’d be more scared of your girl than your dad, punk.”

You had burst through the doors of the tattoo parlor like a bat out of hell, your breath heaving slightly with the expended effort of hauling ass all the way over here from the restaurant you worked part time at. After receiving a cryptic picture from your best friend of him sat in his uncle’s tattoo chair with that deceivingly sheepish smile on his face, you could barely concentrate on taking orders correctly the remainder of your shift. Huffing out a sigh, you spotted those familiar, black combat boots hanging off the end of one of the leather seats.

Choso didn’t bother to correct Sukuna’s labeling of you as his girl, as it was proven a wasted effort after years of telling him that wasn’t the case. It also didn’t hurt that the title made his stomach flip excitedly each time he heard it.

“Oh my god.” You gaped once you finally reached the chair he was laid at. Half of the deep burgundy, nearly black mark that was being tattooed across his nose was already finished, and you could already picture the crash out Jin Itadori would have when he laid his eyes on his eldest son.

Cracking one eye open, the birthday boy took in the sight of you, cheeks still red and puffing from the run you took to get to him. Underneath that first layer of shock though, he could see the barely disguised wonder in your eyes as you assessed the situation at hand. Sukuna paused his ministrations to give his nephew a break, and so that you could see the progress.

“What the fuck! Your dad is gonna kill you.” You laughed incredulously, stepping closer to get a better look. Choso was just glad that his face was already tinged red from the irritation of the needle so you wouldn’t notice how he flushed insecurely under your gaze.

It was his main reasoning behind the oddly placed tattoo, actually. Since he was little he could remember his face growing noticeably hot over the tiniest of compliments, looks, or touches. Maybe it was far-fetched, but he hoped the imposing mark across his nose and cheeks would draw the attention away from that little quirk of his. It also didn’t hurt that the stencil looked cool as fuck.

“Not if you’re with me, he won’t.” Choso suggested with a sly, hopeful smile on his face, and you quickly shook your head at him. His face fell into that pout he had mastered to use specifically on you. “C’mon, he’ll take it easy on me if you’re there, please!”

“It was bad enough having to be your human shield when you got your nose pierced, Cho— no way.”

“I’ll let you check my back for blackheads.”

It fell silent for a moment as you contemplated his offer.

“You two are fuckin’ freaks.” Sukuna scoffed in disgust beside you before dragging his nephew’s chin back to face forward to continue working. You winced watching the needle begin to pierce at his already irritated skin, and you found yourself instinctively slipping your hand into his to squeeze it.

“Does it hurt?” You grimaced, leaning a bit closer to watch.

Choso almost said no, because, truthfully, he had gotten used to the pain about half an hour ago, but he took note of the way you clutched at his hand to comfort him. His lips twitched nervously at the feeling as he closed his eyes once again.

“Uh— yeah, kind of.” He mumbled, taking the opportunity to lace his fingers through yours under the guise of having something to squeeze onto when he was in pain. His uncle watched the interaction with a deadpan expression, knowing full well that the kid hadn’t so much as flinched once since he’d sat down. Shaking his head with a quiet tut, he barely tried to conceal his amused smirk.

“What about you, birthday girl, huh? You getting some celebratory ink too?” Sukuna questioned, wiping at the side of Choso’s nose that he’d just filled in. You cringed as you watched the tiniest amount of blood trickle at the bridge of his nose.

“Don’t know, I think Cho took all the balls in this friendship.” You admitted with a defeated smile.

“Don’t be such a wimp.” Your best friend teased with a careful smile as he stretched his lower half against the stiff chair. The black sweater he was wearing rode up a bit, practically commanding the attention of your wandering eyes. There was a barely noticeable trail of dark hair leading down into the band of his joggers, and your lips parted as you tried to recall when the fuck that had happened.

The last couple of months in your friendship with Choso had been… getting a little difficult. You two had been practically joined at the hip since you were six years old and yelled at a group of first graders for not singing happy birthday to him as well after having overheard his dad wishing him a happy birthday that morning during drop off. For a while, the two of you would tell people at school that you were twins even though it was so clearly not the case, but six-year-old you and Cho were sure that you had everyone convinced.

He had always been a bit of an introvert, so you had been the greatest birthday gift he could have ever hoped for. So, the awkward boy stuck to your side from that day on. Wherever one was, the other was never too far behind, and this would now be the twelfth birthday you two would be spending together.

Choso had certainly been… changing though from that lanky little boy who would sniffle and cry each time you two parted for the day (as if you didn’t attend the same school). He had grown taller, his voice had dropped a few octaves, and these days you were finding yourself worrying about the timeline of your best friend’s happy trail. For a while you blamed it on the raging hormones that came along with puberty, but you were eighteen now and weren’t sure how much longer that excuse would hold up in your denial-filled brain.

This was just one more way he was changing, you convinced yourself as you anxiously waited for him to unlock the front door of his house, his nose and cheeks still glistening with the antibiotic ointment Sukuna had slathered onto his fresh tattoo. He would have never had the courage to do something so bold even just a couple years ago. You had to admit though, the odd choice of tattoo did suit him, emphasizing those tired, chocolate eyes of his so nicely.

It was silent in the Itadori house as you two crept in, scanning the area apprehensively with each step you took. You clutched at the back of his shirt, tugging him to lean down as you whispered into his black-studded ear.

“I don’t think anyone’s—”

“Happy birthday you—” Poor, sweet Jin Itadori’s shout of celebration got stuck right in the back of his throat as his eyes fell upon his eldest son, a lit up birthday cake still clutched in his hands. He blinked a few times as though there was possibly just something in his eyes, but the wide-eyed expression of anxiety on the boy’s face gave him away. “What in god’s name did you do to your face? Was this your uncle? Did he tell you this was a good idea because I—”

“It was my idea.” Choso corrected, not-so-subtly attempting to nudge you forward as if you would soften the blow of his father’s wrath, who’s honey eyes fell frantically upon you.

“Did you know about this? Please tell me you two are punking me or something.”

“She didn’t know.” He quickly defended despite the fact that it would have been a lot easier to share the blame. Rubbing at the back of his neck, he attempted a light-hearted smile. “C’mon, don’t I look—”

“You look like you’re about to be stuck working in that tattoo shop with your uncle the rest of your life because no one is going to hire you with that thing!” The man had begun pacing the length of the kitchen with the cake still in tow, shaking his head in disbelief before stopping to gape at his son in horror once again. “You couldn’t have at least waited until after prom? Graduation? All your photos— ruined! Oh god, I think I’m going to pass out—”

“Calm down, it’s not that big a deal— not like I did anything illegal, y’know like sneaking into a casino while underaged.” Choso attempted to distract him with a sheepish smile, stepping forward to take the cake out of his hands lest he really pass out. With his now free hands, Jin was tearing at the roots of his hair as he continued his frantic pacing, mumbling about not reminding him of Yuji’s recent run in with the law. “Besides, I’m not going to prom anyway.”

Now it was your turn to gape at the freshly-tattooed birthday boy.

“You’re not?” You questioned, desperately trying not to sound as dejected as you felt. Though you two had never talked about it, you had just assumed that you’d be going to prom together given all the other important milestone events that you had completed hand in hand. Hell, you had even been putting off an offer from a fellow classmate of yours with the impression that Choso would be asking you to be his date— platonically, of course.

“You’re not?” Jin echoed in horror, finally looking up from where his face had been shoved into his hands. The man didn’t miss the disheartened expression that flashed across your face despite your best efforts to conceal it. “Why not? You’re only a high-schooler once, Choso, don’t be silly.”

Perhaps his nervous convincing was a bit overkill, but damn it how he was tired of watching his clearly love-sick son grow older and older without growing any wits about him on what was going on right under his nose. After hosting years worth of playdates for you two as mere children, to encouraging his son to be a little gentler with you as you began going through those awkward years that plagued every pre-teen girl, all the way to having to watch with barely concealed frustration at the way you two fell into one another’s ebb and flow so gracefully without any semblance of self-awareness— Jin was sure that he was more excited than the actual seniors for prom to come around, eager to force you two into the most obvious of couple’s poses for photos before sending you off for the night.

“Why would I go to prom? You know I hate that kind of stuff.” He explained obviously before turning to see the settling shock lingering on your face. It made him blink a few times, brows furrowing in confusion. “I-I mean, are you going?”

“Um…” You stammered over your words, trying to suppress the flush of embarrassment that you felt creeping up your neck for having assumed that Choso would ask you to prom. He felt his heart in his throat, breath hitching in slight anticipation, because he was sure he wouldn’t have too terrible of a time if it was you he was going with, but the last thing he wanted to do was make things weird by asking you to be his date. “Y-Yeah, I was planning to go. Geto had asked me a few days ago, so—”

“You’re going with Geto?” It felt like his heart had fallen straight through his ass, and it took every inch of restraint in him to not begin banging his head against the dry-wall in a bitter rage, because why did he not think to ask you first? “I didn’t know you two talked like that.”

Jin wasn’t sure how much more of this he could stand to watch before he wrung his son’s neck out. He cleared his throat in an attempt to subtly get Choso’s attention and hopefully send some sort of telepathic communication to him, but he was far too focused on this Geto character that you had mentioned to get his head out of his own ass.

“We don’t really, but… he asked me, and I wanted to go.”

My god, does she have to spell it out for him? Did I fail somewhere along the way as a father that my son turned out such an oblivious hard head? Just ask her— ask her!

“Oh. Well… that’s good, I guess.”

Jin hoped to god that as Choso blew out half the candles on you two’s shared birthday cake that he was wishing for some common sense.

You two did the best you could to shake off the sudden awkwardness following the conversation about prom. At the very least, you two still had to give each other your gifts, so you figured that would cushion the tension. You followed him up the familiar path to his room where you had had Yuji drop off his gift for you so it’d be here when you two got back, biting down an excited smile.

“No way.” Choso gaped just seconds after opening the door. Stepping in to get a closer look, he quickly turned on his heels to stare incredulously at you. “No way— this is too much. I-I can’t take this.”

There leaned upon the side of his bed was a sleek black electric guitar— one he’d been keening over since the acoustic guitar his dad had gotten him damn near nine years ago now had mysteriously snapped at the neck. Okay, maybe it wasn’t so mysterious because you did tell Choso that climbing up onto his shoulders to get the spider that had been terrorizing his ceiling wasn’t a good idea, because sure enough as soon as the wretched thing moved an inch, you jolted back, sending both of you tumbling to the ground with only his poor guitar to break the fall.

“After all the fake flirting I had to do to rack up enough tip money for it? You sure as hell can take it.”

“Please, I can’t—”

“You can, and you will.”

His face was burning with the guilt of how much you had spent on him, but the glimmering shine of the fresh guitar in his peripheral was helping to soften the blow a bit. The boy’s fingers were practically twitching with the anticipation of getting his hands on the thing, but he stopped himself. With a shy smile shot your way, he crouched down to pull out a box that had since been hiding under his bed. You smiled eagerly before sinking down to sit criss-crossed straight across from him, your present filling the small gap left between you.

He laughed affectionately as he watched you struggle to pry the box open, deciding to put you out of your misery after a minute or so and tearing the cardboard apart for you. The first thing that caught your eye was a vinyl record— your favorite album that you had introduced Choso to a few years back. It held a tender spot in both of your hearts for that very reason, and its lead single had consequently been the first song he learned to play on his guitar all those years ago.

Even all these years later he could still feel the sting in his fingers that had yet to callous protectively against the instrument’s strings as he stayed up until the sun rose that next morning trying to perfect each chord so that he could play it for you when you came over. It was choppy at best, what with all the scrapes on his irritated fingers and the lack of sleep, but the dewey eyed look on your face made him feel like he was Jimi fucking Hendrix, only fueling his motivation to get better— to impress you. So, despite how his fingers began to bleed, he played it for you over and over again until you were satisfied.

The sight of the nostalgic album nearly made you tear up pathetially, but you pulled yourself together to beam up at him with all the light of a thousand suns. He flushed under your gaze, quickly looking down to push the box toward you again with a jut of his chin.

“There’s still something in there.”

Tearing your eyes from him, you pushed back the flaps of the box to get a better look, finding a far too expensive looking record player sitting at the bottom of the large box that he’d definitely been begging neighbors to let him clean their car or mow their lawn in order to afford. Gasping softly, an incredulous laugh bubbled up your chest as you shifted onto your knees.

“Cho, this is so cool!” You guffawed, fingers struggling to wrangle the turntable out of the damned box to no avail. Unable to fight back his smile, he moved to brush your hands away and grab it for you, setting it down atop his black comforter. Running your fingers down the glossy box, you looked up at him with raised brows. “You’re gonna come back to my house to help me set it up, right?”

“You putting me to work on my birthday?” He quipped with a smirk as he fell back against the bed, hoisting up his new guitar to rest on his stomach.

“I’ll give you the day.” You caved in mock resignation as you laid beside him, head shifted to observe the way he fiddled with the tuners. “New face tattoo, new guitar— your rockstar look is really coming together.”

“Yeah?”

“For sure— just missing some guyliner.”

His nimble fingers paused against the strings, lips pursing as he peered over at you. It was dead silent as a slow smile spread across your face— because you could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. It was only a mere five minutes later that you found yourself digging your fingers into his jaw to stop him from flinching away each time the eyeliner pencil drew a little too close to his iris.

“Sit still, dude.” You grumbled, stepping closer between his spread legs as he sat impatiently in his desk chair.

Huffing out a sigh, he tried not to squirm at your burning proximity. Your tongue was creeping out the corner of your mouth in concentration, and the hand that had since been on his jaw moved to brush the hair away from his forehead. He could feel the warm puffs of your breath fanning against his face, driving his legs to squirm against the floor, which seemed to be the final straw for your patience.

Choso thought his heart would leap out of his chest when you planted yourself firmly on his lap, your legs hanging over the side of his chair. His arms quickly fell to his sides as though weighed down by bricks, dangling limply as his fingers flexed apprehensively. Gulping anxiously, he tried not to focus on the way the fat of your thighs squished against him.

“Close your eyes, Cho.” You murmured quietly as you began working on his lids. He did so swiftly, eager to not have to worry about where to place his gaze.

“So, um…” The boy cleared his throat, trying desperately to get his mind anywhere else before he created a problem that would be embarrassing for the both of you. “You’re really going to prom with Geto?”

“Mhm.” You hummed simply, chewing on your bottom lip as you smudged the freshly placed liner with the edge of your thumb. Perhaps you should have said more, but you weren’t sure that you trusted your voice if you were to speak right now.

“Do you… I mean are you—”

“Look up for me.”

Cursing himself mentally to just get it the fuck together, he tried again as he did as he was told, warm eyes glancing up at the ceiling.

“I just didn’t know you liked him is all.” He finally got out as his pulse pounded against the fingers you had pressed against his jaw and neck once again. “You’ve always told me about stuff like that.”

With a tickled smile, you leaned back in his lap to narrow your eyes knowingly at him. Upon noting your silence paired with the way you had stopped your work against his eyes, he finally looked back down, and you had to bite back the delighted gasp from seeing the way the smudged, dark liner paired so beautifully with the rest of him, making his already mysteriously dark eyes that much more sultry.

“You’re jealous, Choso!”

“What? N-No, I was just—”

“You are so jealous that I didn’t tell you about Geto.”

“I’m not jealous!”

“You are!”

“Am not!”

He was so jealous, Choso determined as he stared up at his ceiling the dreaded night of prom. His fingers idly strummed at the new guitar that laid across his stomach, trying to get his mind off of the fact that you hadn’t even bothered to send him a picture of your dress. It had always been him that was the first to see your new haircuts, fresh manicures, and imaginative outfits, and it was eating him alive that for the first time in twelve years, another guy was going to get to witness that little spin of display you did each time you wore something you felt particularly pretty in.

It didn’t help that he’d already gotten an earful from his dad when he got home from school that day about the fact that he still hadn’t righted his wrong and asked you instead. Jin must have gone on for at least an hour about what a shame it was that of all the experiences you two had shared, one as important to you as this one would be hand in hand with someone else. For the first time since the start of your long-winded friendship, he was sharing you with someone, and Choso was quickly realizing that he was selfish— and unashamedly so.

The event had already been going on for about two hours now, and he was coming to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t hear from you tonight. The familiar notes of that favorite song of yours that he had learned all those years ago filled his ears as he began absentmindedly plucking at the strings under his fingertips. Ever so slowly, the melody began shifting into one he’d never heard before, taking its own shape as it filled his melancholy room with feelings of you, and how much he’d taken it for granted all those times he had you laying beside him as he toyed with the notes, telling him what sounded nice and what he needed to work on.

The notes suddenly screeched awkwardly as his phone began buzzing in his back pocket, yanking him from his pensive sulking with its imposing tune. Blinking a few times, he frantically tossed his hips up to wrangle his phone out from behind him, the head of his guitar smacking him in the face with the sudden movements.

He shot up out of bed pathetically upon seeing your name lighting up his screen along with a picture he’d taken of the two of you in the mirror a few months ago when you tried to give him red highlights. There was dye nearly everywhere except where it was supposed to be, yet you still beamed up at the mirror despite the red streaks covering your face and arms, gloved hands still tangled into his hair.

Clearing his throat, he quickly swiped to answer the call before it went to voicemail.

“Did someone spike the punch or—”

“Choso?” Your voice sounded hushed, but it still wavered ever-so-slightly against the sound of music blaring in the distance. The smile quickly fell from his face. “Do you think you could… come get me?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah, I’m coming. What’s going on?” He was barrelling through his hectic room to find any pair of shoes to shove on, nearly tripping over himself as he hopped toward the front door on one foot.

“Um… nothing, I just… really wanna go home.”

There wasn’t even the tiniest part of him that was convinced, but that would just have to be a conversation for later because there was a timid vulnerability and tremor in your sweet voice that he’d never heard before. Snatching his dad’s keys from the hook by the door, he was requesting your location before racing down the street. There was a slight possibility that he had run more than a few red lights on his way to the hotel that was hosting your school’s prom in the banquet hall. The car had barely come to a stop when he was flinging the door open to rush toward the bench you were sitting at out front.

“What are you doing out here by yourself? Where’s Geto?”

But your eyes were fluttering around you cautiously, scoping the surrounding area with a shake of your head as your best friend pulled you up by your arm.

“Please, can we just go? I don’t—”

“Right— yeah, okay, come on.”

It was silent on the ride home save for your hushed request that he take you back to his house for the night instead. Cautionary side long glances were continuously tossed your way throughout the drive, and you could practically feel the concerned curiosity eating alive at him as your body faced the passenger side door. You were eternally grateful for the fact that the other two residents of the Itadori household had already turned in for the night when you two arrived.

Choso flipped the lights on in his room, carefully inching the door of his room closed so as not to wake anyone up. When he turned, he was finally able to get his first good look at you, and he was absolutely bursting at the seams to know what Geto must have done to fuck up a night with you as his date looking as ethereal as you did standing in the middle of his room.

You were sighing dejectedly as you tugged open his drawers to fish out something to change into, but Choso was still stuck by the door, eyes taking in each detail of your glittering makeup and intricately lined lips.

“You…” His words drifted as you turned your back toward him so he’d undo your zipper. “You look beautiful.”

You paused, head slowly turning to look over your shoulder at him with misty eyes.

“Thanks, Cho.”

Quickly working your zipper down, he turned to face the door as you stepped out of your dress to shrug on a pair of his sweatpants and a crewneck. His leg swayed anxiously while he listened to the gentle rustling of clothes behind him.

“Did… did something happen?”

Upon hearing the subtle creak of his bed as you sank down onto it, he carefully turned around. The bed dipped by your head where he sat himself, and you felt him absentmindedly begin pulling the myriad of pins from your hair. Flushing red, you covered your face with your hands as you recalled how your night had progressed, not caring how you were smudging your makeup against your hands.

“He… he just wanted to have sex with me.”

Choso felt his heart crack at your shaky explanation, the guilt he had been experiencing for not having asked you to prom himself returning tenfold. The bobby pin in his grasp bent between his fingers as he thought about how Geto had ruined what was meant to be a special night for you.

“That guy’s a loser, he’ll probably die a virgin anyway.” He attempted to lighten the mood with a hesitant, breathy laugh, but it died in his throat when you slowly sat up to look at him, your now loose hair falling messily in your face and tears brimming your eyes. His stomach dropped at the mortified expression scrunching up your typically cheerful face, and he gulped down the bile rising in his throat. “Oh.”

A sob racked your body as you moved to curl into a tight ball, your head resting against his tense thighs. His hands hovered over you uncertainly before slowly coming down to brush at the hair invading your face.

“So, you…” He couldn’t even bring himself to say it, the words tasting bitter on his tongue.

“I feel like an idiot.” You cried, fisting at his pajama pants. “I stopped him right after he— he put it… in, but—”

“It’s okay.” Choso cut off your embarrassed rambles, pulling you up to wrap you in a tight embrace. He wasn’t sure if he could handle listening to the details. “Did he stop when you asked him to?”

A heavy sigh of relief left him when you nodded against his shoulder. It was silent for a few minutes, your soft cries soaking into the fabric of his tattered, band t-shirt.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered dejectedly, trying desperately to get the image out of his head of you underneath of Geto with your makeup done up so prettily for someone who didn’t deserve it. He thought about how none of it would have happened had he just grown a pair. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to prom. I should’ve taken you, none of this would have—”

“It’s not your fault.” You interrupted, finally lifting your head from where it had burrowed into his neck to look up at him, your lip still trembling as your once pristine makeup smeared down your red cheeks.

As you stared into his dewey, warm eyes, you allowed your thoughts to wander to how your night might have ended had Choso been your date, how you had stopped Geto after the gruelling realization hit you that no hands felt as right against your skin without the gruffness of guitar-string callouses. Your stomach churned nervously, and you laid back down against his lap, unable to face him as the words came tumbling from your lips.

“I wish it would have been you, Cho.”

Choso’s heart sputtered to an abrupt halt— at least that’s what it felt like as your words sunk in. Slowly, he laid back against his pillow, careful not to jostle you in your spot against his thighs. Staring up at the ceiling, his mouth opened and closed a few times.

“Y-You mean as a prom date, right?” The question came out apprehensively, because, deep down, you both already knew the answer. You closed your eyes nonetheless, a final tear slipping down your cheek.

“Yeah, as a prom date.” Your lie came out barely a whisper as he chewed on his bottom lip.

“I wish it would’ve been me too. Y’know, your… prom date.”

It was the first time both of you knew that something had shifted in your relationship, though neither of you were brave enough to mention it the next morning when you woke.

That fateful night was two years ago now, and you had had ample time to come to the realization that perhaps you should have been more upfront with him, because Choso was now hundreds of miles away at an arts school with only a telephone keeping you two together.

It had been a difficult conversation with shifting eyes and unnecessarily guilty frowns, but when your best friend had broken the news to you that he’d been accepted into a different university than the one you’d be attending, you couldn’t have been happier that he was pursuing his passion for music. When he dropped the bomb that it was nearly six hours away— that was a tougher pill to swallow.

You two had been doing the best you could though— calling each other every other night and texting in between to make sure to keep up to date on everything university life had to offer you. Still, things would get busy sometimes, what with Choso’s occasional shows that he’d been playing with a local band in his college town, and your downright diabolical class and exam schedule. Things certainly weren’t the same anymore, but you desperately tried to cling onto him.

Additionally, in your absence Choso was reminded of just how much of a clutch you had been for him. He had never been the best at talking to others, relating to the types of casual niceties that seemed to connect people, but he had never had to until now because you had always been just enough for him. Sure, he had warmed up enough to his bandmates, but it was never the same— not when he sat alone in his room at night strumming melodies he only wished he would have played for you earlier when he still had the chance to do something about these things he was feeling.

On your end of the world, it certainly didn’t help that his band had grown a modest following, and it seemed that for the first time, the rest of the world was also beginning to notice Choso.

Choso, the one boys and girls alike used to veer away from in the halls at school because of his terrifyingly blunt, resting bitch face.

Choso, the one who spent the majority of highschool with limbs that seemed too long for his body until he grew into his own.

Choso, the one who, unless you were beside him, often took jokes too literally and ended up embarrassing himself each time he opened his mouth.

Choso, the one who you had stuck beside throughout each awkward phase and experimental hairstyle until he landed on the shag cut that suited him so nicely.

Choso, the one who had been receiving the nastiest of thirst comments under each of his band’s social media posts as the rest of the world caught onto what you had known all along.

And, god, how it stung to scroll through each one, but it was like you couldn’t look away, wondering with each username if he was enjoying all the new attention he was getting. You wondered how far he had leaned into this rockstar persona he had been dreaming of his whole life, if he snuck girls backstage and pocketed their bras as evidence of his conquests.

I mean, the guy had gone damn near his entire life without so much as a second glance from any girl he’d come in contact with— except for you, of course, and you underestimated just how deep his loyalty ran and how much he remembered who it was that had been with him through it all.

So, to hell with every creatively intricate thirst comment under photos that even had you contemplating starting a burner account to appreciate with the masses, none of them mattered despite all the nights you’d spent chewing at your fingernails with thoughts of what he might be up to. Each fan account could burn in hell though— because it was you he called as soon as he’d received the news that his band would be touring, opening for an indie band that you two had actually been fans of for quite some time.

“I wanna fly you out.” Choso insisted breathlessly, still winded from the sheer velocity at which he raced for his phone upon hearing the news. It made your heart stutter, because it had been now going on three years since you last saw him, your schedules never having seemed to line up just right. There were a few times when you had contemplated flying out to surprise him at one of his local, bar shows, but with your building mountain of school work, you’d had little to no time to get a job that could afford you the extra change at the end of each month to buy a plane ticket. At your silence, he huffed, and you could practically hear that damned pout from over the phone. “C’mon, our birthday is coming up. We used to spend all our birthdays together.”

Smiling wistfully at the memories of how easy you two once had it, you shook your head.

“Well that was before you became some heart-throb rock star, Cho.” You teased, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you wondered if he still blushed so easily at little comments like that, and, if so, what shade his cheeks were at the moment.

“How am I supposed to be a rock star with no groupies? That’s just lame.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m sure you have a long list of contenders waiting in line. Have you been checking your instagram comments lately?”

This made him pause, the tiniest of knowing smiles creeping onto his face.

“No, but it sounds like you have.”

For once, it was you flushing that burning shade of red that once graced his cheeks so frequently, and you wondered when he’d begun reciprocating your teasing banter instead of just stammering through his responses while trying not to look you in the eyes. Shaking his head with a nearly silent chuckle, he decided to put you out of your misery, clutching his phone tighter against his ears.

“Let me fly you out, please? I know you’ve gotta break coming up. I wanna see you.”

So just three months later, though truthfully it felt like a year as you and Choso counted down the days until you would see each other again, you were on a flight courtesy of his now modest earnings from his band. And sure, it was no fancy seat with the luxury accommodations he just knew you deserved, but he felt so proud to know that he was able to do something for you. He had been waiting at the airport nearly two hours before your flight was actually supposed to land, flowers clutched in his clammy hands as he checked the time repeatedly.

Much to his frustration, your flight kept getting delayed, and, after the third push back, he had to begrudgingly resign himself to the fact that he wouldn’t get to be there when you landed, having to get back for sound check for the show tonight. After sending a long winded explanation text, he insisted that you text him as soon as you land as well as as soon as you got to the hotel and as soon as you made it to the venue, and— well, you got the point.

With all the sudden delays, you only had time to drop your luggage off at the front desk of the hotel, who assured you they’d get it to your room for you before you had to haul ass to the venue before you missed any second of Choso’s band opening. He had given your name to security, who had your pass waiting for you when you arrived and quickly led you toward a less crowded section reserved for the talents’ guests.

You were slightly winded from the nonstop moving you had been doing since you woke up this morning, but even with how spent you felt, you weren’t sure anything could have woken you up faster than the sight of your best friend on that stage after three years of not seeing him. Sure, the two of you had been keeping up with pictures and the occasional video call, but none of it did him justice— not with the way the boy you once knew had grown into such a… man.

The once lanky limbs that hung awkwardly at his sides had certainly filled out, emphasized nicely by the gaping muscle shirt he currently had on. His biceps flexed with each rip of his guitar as his grown out hair fell into his chiseled face. To your surprise, he had a mic situated in front of him and was occasionally offering back-up vocals that you were straining with everything in you to pinpoint amongst the rest of the music.

His eyes swept across the designated guest area, and you and your poor, weak heart nearly gave out upon realizing that he had begun lining them just as you did for him all those years ago, smudged out across his lids and adding a spine-tingling depth as they spotted you in the crowd. That earth-shattering smile lit up his face as he took in the sight of you looking up at him, because none of this success and fulfillment of lifelong dreams felt nearly as sweet without you being in the audience for him to impress.

Choso was breath-taking on that stage, commanding it with a confidence you had never seen on him before. It was a blur as the set went on, your shouting out the lyrics to the songs of theirs that you’d kept up with over the year, your already spent body expending the fumes of energy it had left to thrash around to the eardrum-crushing beat.

You found yourself anxiously checking your phone when his band finished their set and disappeared backstage, not knowing if you were going to have to wait until the end of the show to see him. Thinking back to the phone conversation you two had had months prior, and how you really were starting to feel like his groupie. The thought made you smile in amusement, shoving your phone back into your pocket as the main band came out on stage.

Your questions were answered just one song in when a pair of nearly steaming, sweat clung arms wrapped around your shoulders and chest from behind, squeezing you into an equally sweaty chest.

“Ew, Cho, get off! You’re soaked!” You tried to sound disgusted, but your delighted laugh deceived you, because you were sure that he could have been covered head to toe in blood right now and you’d still allow him to latch onto you as he was doing so ardently.

“What happened to being my groupie?” He shouted over the blasting music, surprising you when his lips met your cheek in a sloppy kiss. Even he wasn’t sure where he’d worked up the gall to kiss you, but maybe it was the fact that he’d spent the last three years regretting his inaction, and he’d be damned if he was going to let you board that flight back home without at least trying.

Hoping he didn’t see the way your cheeks flushed at the little stunt, you took note of the fact that he had yet to release you.

“Your groupie is gonna need a few drinks if she has to deal with your stench for the next hour.”

In typical Choso fashion, he quickly obliged your request, planting yet another kiss against your temple before disappearing in the blur of security and venue workers to find you something to drink. You felt like your head was spinning with his sudden forward shift in behavior, but you chalked it up to the fact that you two hadn’t seen each other in so long.

So, you didn’t question it when he came back with two vodka Red Bulls and continued to cling onto you the remainder of the show. He hoisted you up on his back when the crowd around you began to grow so you could get a better view of the band and didn’t care that you were screaming along to the songs right into his ear because you were finally here with him, and he could buy you drinks and give you front row seats to one of your favorite bands, and for once he thought that maybe he was brave enough to admit that he wanted something more with you after all these years of convincing himself that there was nothing he could offer you that’d be worth your while.

He was riding on the high of your giddy smile the entire taxi ride back to the hotel, unable to wipe that lovesick grin off of his face even when you asked him if there was something on your face that was warranting all the staring.

“I’m just gonna shower really quick, and then I’ll come to your room so we can order some food, ‘kay?” You explained while fishing out the room key that you’d received from the front desk earlier that day.

Choso’s brows furrowed as he pushed the respective button on the elevator and adjusted his guitar case over his shoulder.

“What do you mean? We’re going to the same room.”

Looking up from the inside of your bag, you stared at him with a slightly dumbfounded expression.

“You only booked one room?” You questioned with a fluttering gaze.

“We’ve always shared a room.” He explained obviously, making his way down the hall once the elevator doors opened. You could hardly argue with him on that logic, because you two had been sharing a room, hell— sharing a bed since you were kids. As you followed close behind him, butterflies churning in your stomach, you came to the conclusion that Choso had neglected to account for the fact that you two weren’t kids anymore.

Still, he had flown you all this way, and you had missed the endless nights you two would spend together watching horror movies until Jin would stumble into the room, exasperated as he asked you two to please turn down the volume or, better yet, watch anything else that didn’t have him jolting awake from the incessant sounds of blood-curdling screams emanating from his son’s room at ungodly hours of the night. Bonus points if you two had snuck Yuji in to watch them with you and had to shove him under the bed until their dad left the room lest he find out his youngest was watching movies far too mature for his age.

Yuji and Jin weren’t there to interrupt though, and you were currently hyping yourself up in the bathroom mirror to go out and spend the night with the man you’d known for fifteen years now. Looking down at yourself, you cursed at your choice of sleep wear that you’d clearly chosen before you knew Choso would be sleeping beside you. His old Metallica t-shirt had tiny holes in the shoulders and was discolored from so many years of wash cycles, but it was just so perfectly worn in, and it was a little reminder of him each time you went to sleep.

The tattered hem fell just above your mid-thigh, and you were once again punching yourself in the leg because why would you not pack any pajama shorts? Pants? A longer shirt? Literally anything other than your fucking jeans that you’d rather bear the humiliation for than wear to bed? Huffing out a final sigh, you hung up your towel before exiting the steam-filled bathroom outwardly displaying far more confidence than was actually present in your muddled mind at the moment.

“Shower’s open, Cho.” You informed with your eyes cast downward, shoving your dirty clothes into the respective section of your suitcase.

He looked up from the room service menu he’d been studying for the past few minutes, his heart nearly leaping out of his chest at the sight of your bare thighs that still glistened from whatever lotion you had slathered on after your shower, and oh god was that his shirt? His brain was short-circuiting on the spot, and he was so grateful that he was jumping into the shower now, knowing that knob was about to be turned to the coldest setting he could manage.

You sighed in quiet relief when the bathroom door shut behind him, thanking your lucky stars that he hadn’t mentioned anything about your choice of sleepwear— or lack thereof, hoping it meant that he didn’t notice.

Finally allowing some of the tension to fall from your shoulders, you looked around the slightly bougie hotel room, smiling at the sight of his guitar leaning against the wall. Taking the opportunity to be a little nosy for nostalgia’s sake, you unzipped the case and carefully pulled the beloved instrument out. It was hardly recognizable now, what with all the decals and stickers he’d adorned it with over the years, but it was that same electric guitar you had scraped up all your tip money to buy for him.

Humming fondly, you sat crisscrossed in the middle of the plush bed to fiddle with the strings, recalling all the nights Choso had spent desperately trying to teach you how to play, but you never could make good on his diligent efforts. You could only vaguely recall the chords to that first song he’d ever learned to play, the one you’d watched him strum what must have been hundreds of times for you. Pursing your lip, you tried to angle your fingers just right along the neck as you dug into the far corners of your memory.

“Your hand is too far up the neck.”

In your fierce concentration, you hadn’t even heard Choso exiting the bathroom. Not looking up at him lest you break your focus, you shifted your hand as he’d instructed.

“Here?”

He tutted softly, though you could practically hear the fond amusement oozing from him. After a moment, you felt the bed dip behind you, and your breath hitched as you felt his chest press against your back, and you suddenly didn’t feel as embarrassed at your lack of clothing since he hadn’t bothered to put a shirt on following his shower. His hands soon came up to close around yours, guiding them to the proper placement.

“Try now.” He instructed softly, tucking his chin over your shoulder to watch your movements.

Trying to control the way your fingers trembled with the feeling of the muscles he never used to have pressed right up against you, you tried again. When he let out a quiet hum of disapproval, you didn’t have the chance to ask what you had done wrong before he was scooching you back to sit in his lap for better access to the instrument.

“You’ve gotta spread out your fingers a little more.” Choso’s tips were falling on deaf ears, because his scent was enveloping you like a warm blanket, he was so warm pressed right up against you, and his cheek was brushing against yours as he adjusted your fingers.

As he had been telling himself since he saw you in the audience earlier for the first time in three years, he wasn’t that awkward boy anymore who was too scared to be honest with himself, and he knew better than to believe that the flush in your cheeks right now was from your shower. Smiling softly, he eased up his hands as you began to get the hang of it, only occasionally reaching up to correct your placements. You gradually allowed yourself to relax against him, your shoulders drifting back to fall along his broad chest.

“Do you ever think about that night of prom?” Out of all the ways he could have eased into this conversation, he wasn’t sure why that was what had come out of his mouth, but he was relieved when you scoffed out a light laugh.

“You mean the night I lost my virginity to Suguru Geto?” You shook your head at the once damn near traumatic memory, a bitter smile gracing your lips. “I try not to.”

It was silent for a moment, and just as he thought you had all but forgotten what you had said to him that night, you spoke up hesitantly.

“Do you? Y’know— think about it?”

“All the time.”

Your fingers paused against the strings, but a hushed whisper in your ear to keep playing had you jolting back into action, but your subtle squirming against his lap gave you away.

“Why the hell would you be thinking about that?” You mumbled, keeping your voice low as you desperately tried to maintain your composure.

“Because I can’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened if it was me instead.”

His hand came up to tighten your grip around the neck of the guitar that had loosened with the implications of his words, and you heard those familiar words falling from your lips just as they had from his three years ago.

“You mean as my prom date, right, Cho?”

His head shifted ever so slightly, and you shivered as his nose grazed against your temple. The hand that had been guiding your fingers over the strings drifted down to ghost over your bare thigh.

“Yeah, as your prom date.” He lied, just as you had that night. The pads of his fingers dug into the fat of your thigh momentarily, giving you the opportunity to push him away should he have been reading all the signs wrong. You didn’t though, you only held back the softest of whimpers when the metaphorical green light prompted him to run his hand further up, brushing back your already maddeningly ridden up shirt. “I think about how much of an idiot he was, what I would’ve done different.”

The way your comparably smaller frame was expanding and deflating against him in tandem with your labored breaths was making it hard for him to think, and he was sure his body was acting purely on autopilot.

“Like what?” You dared to whisper, not even quite sure that you were ready to hear his answer, but oh was he willing to give it to you.

“I would’ve told you how pretty you looked that night— because you did. You looked like an angel.” Choso rasped out against your ear, and his fingers were curling around the warmth of your inner thigh, just barely grazing against your rapidly heating core. Your fingers stuttered once again against the strings, and his other hand quickly came up to grip at the column of your neck, pressing you back against him. “Keep playing for me, angel.”

And you tried, hands trembling as they fumbled to find the right chords again.

“Did he touch you like this before he ruined your night?”

“No!” You gasped out desperately, arching against him as he pushed your panties to the side to collect the pooling slick at your entrance, using it to aid in the tentative circles he began working against your clit. “H-He didn’t touch me at all— ah!”

With a vexed tut of disapproval, Choso’s fingers dipped down to plunge into your sopping heat. His movements were choppy, and it was clear that he wasn’t sure what exactly you would like, but his focused gaze on your side profile as he studied each of your reactions told you that he was going to figure it the fuck out.

“I would have taken the time for you— I would’ve made sure you were ready.” His regrets were spilling past his frantic lips in a manner teetering on a whine as your head fell back against his shoulder. “Keep playing.”

“I can’t— I can’t, Cho.” You cried deliriously as his fingers began curling up in response to your frantic reaction. You were soaking through the underwear that had been pushed haphazardly to the side, and if you were more lucid you would have been embarrassed at the way it pooled onto the sheets below you.

At once, he had released the firm grip he had on your neck to push his guitar off the bed.

“Then come up here and let me show you how I would have taken care of you.”

Choso, with his eagerness to please and this newfound Herculean strength of his, didn’t give you the chance to comply with his request, because he was ripping at your flimsy underwear and shifting you around to face him. It was enough to give you whiplash, but the bruising grip he had around your waist assured that your balance wouldn’t fail you as he laid back against the unsuspecting hotel sheets and yanked you up to hover over his crazed face.

“Choso, y-you don’t have to—”

“I want to.” He pleaded, his lips glistening with an anticipatory drool as those puppy-dog eyes of his locked onto your core, and he was once again reminded of the fact that Suguru Geto had to be the dumbest man on this fucking planet. Craning his neck up, he couldn’t help himself as he dragged his hot tongue up the length of your folds, his strangled moan vibrating against you. “Mmph, sit— please.”

Leave it to Choso to not forget about his manners as he begged you to suffocate him between your trembling thighs. You complied, moving ever-so-slowly to lower yourself against him before he dug his fingers into your thighs and made you sit. Hunching forward, your forehead fell against the plush headboard with a choked cry as he all but unhinged his jaw around your core.

He watched through dazed eyes at the way your face crumpled with each symphony of pleasure that slipped past your bitten lips. There was no sense in dwelling on the past now, but he couldn’t help but feel so utterly idiotic for having been so blind all this time. It had always been there— in the lingering touches and the intimacy of trust that had forged between you two over fifteen years of falling back on one another.

Choso’s eyes rolled back as you rolled your hips against his tongue, momentarily blocking any passage of air through his mouth and nose, but, even with the clenching in his lungs that told him that he needed to breathe paired with the ringing in his ears, he thought he’d much rather have your weeping pleasure as the cause of death on his obituary, because any life where he hindered that impending high you were cravenly grinding toward wasn’t a life worth living.

His tongue dipped into your entrance for an exasperatingly brief tour before its pointed tip was dancing up to swoop under the hood of your already painfully sensitive clit. You squeaked out a pitched moan, nearly tumbling down if one of his hands hadn’t shot up to press against your sternum to keep you upright. A choked sob of pleasure shook your shoulders, and your hand flew down to tangle into the very haircut he maintained for so long just because you said it looked cute on him.

There was a sharp sting on his scalp as you yanked at the roots, the subtle pain at the hands of you nearly sending him to an early grave as his hips bucked up against the air. He was only met by the infuriatingly gentle friction of his sweatpants brushing against his leaking tip, but you were crying out his name and using him so sweetly with every craven thrust of your hips, and it was enough for him after all the sleepless nights he’d spent wishing he could have changed the past.

Evidence of you was dripping grotesquely down his face, dragging as far up as his nose that glistened proudly in the wake of your sloppy thrusts against him. His eyes were barely open by the time you timidly glanced down at him, half-lidded to match the dopey smile you felt morphing against your folds.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You murmured through burning cheeks as he leaned you back to sit on his chest.

“I’ve waited fifteen years to look at you like this.” His words were damn near slurred, but the sentiment remained the same. Brushing the dishevled hair from his forehead, you slid down slowly to straddle his waist, gasping tenderly at the feeling of his abs brushing against your sensitive clit, though your eyes never once left his.

With wanton eyes drifting down his pink-tinted face, his eyes drifted shut as he leaned up to meet the kiss he was sure he was finally about to get, but it instead landed tenderly on his forehead. A warmth spread down his spine, making his fingers curl tighter around your waist.

“Put me out of my misery already.” Choso whispered, but his actions deceived him as he reached up to keep you pressed against his forehead. Just as you slipped out of his grasp, lips dragging down the bridge of his nose until they ghosted over his. With a clouded gaze, he whispered against your lips, “Did he tell you he loved you?”

With a delirious shake of your head, you crashed through the tiniest of barriers that had been left between you.

“I love you.” He mumbled desperately against your kiss, hands sneaking up under your baggy shirt to graze along your spine. “More than just a— ah— a prom date. I love you.”

“I love you, too— more than just a friend.” You confirmed as you snuck your hand down between you to creep into his waistband.

He flinched away from you with a quick, hissing breath, reaching down to grip at your hand in record timing. Pulling away from him with a start, you blinked down owlishly at him.

“Oh— I-I’m sorry, I just thought you wanted to…”

“I do!” He sat up faster than you could blink to miss it. With that signature flush of his cheeks, he cast his gaze to the side. “Just… give me a little bit, okay?”

Raising a brow at his sudden timidness, you decided not to make it known that you had already felt the tacky wet splotch currently making a mess of his sweatpants. Saving him the wallowing self-pity you just knew he’d fall into for the rest of the night, you opted to lay beside him, tracing the tattoo that lined his nose absentmindedly as he looked anywhere but you. With a soft laugh, he finally turned his head to face you again after a moment of silence, smiling sheepishly down at you.

“Happy birthday, angel.”

Glancing over at the bedside clock, you noted with a cacooning warmth that it read 12:02 AM.

“Happy birthday, Cho.”

masterlist | requests | talk to me ❤︎

I love hearing everyone's thoughts! ◝⠀(ᵔᵕᵔ)⠀◜

195 notes · View notes

em1989ts · 3 days ago

Text

𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭

five hargreeves x reader

part one.

word count: 2.2k

summary: you wake up in the apocalypse, with no memory of what life was like before. five years later, you meet another survivor. what happens when the two of you reluctantly decide to work together?

author's note: sorry i took a little break lol, now that school is starting again i have motivation to write so i'm continuing this story that i forgot about. part two is gonna have all the good stuff: enemies, tension, smut, so hopefully i can finish that this week ;) enjoy!

not proofread!

You were on fire.

The skin on your arm felt as if it were melting off as you sat up quickly, patting your opposite hand against the flame to put it out. A large hole was fringed into the sleeve of your shirt, framing the bubbling pink flesh of the burn on the outside of your arm. You grimaced as you stared at it, the pain remarkable and all you could think of before you fully registered where you were.

The sky was a dimming blue, telling you the sun had set not long ago. You would soon be in pitch darkness if it weren’t for the hundreds of glowing fires surrounding you.

Looking around, you couldn’t find anything familiar. Nothing to recognize. Nothing that would give you a hint as to where you were or how you got there.

You racked through your brain for anything that would tell you what caused this.

Climbing off the pile of rubble, you carefully walked through the bricks and glass to find flat ground, gagging as you saw the state of the main road.

There were bodies. People were burnt. People were in pieces.

Turning around, you noticed limbs sticking out from the piles and piles of concrete. People were crushed.

You yelled and screamed, running around pleading for someone to hear you, to call out to you.

You wished there was another survivor but there wasn’t.

Something bad had happened here.

And you were the last one standing.

It had been five years since that night. The first night of your new life in the apocalypse.

As an eighteen year old, you have become adjusted to living on your own, surviving however you can, even if it means eating cockroaches for dinner. You still couldn’t remember what caused the end of the world, or how you even survived, but after years of searching, you’ve come to the conclusion that you’re the sole survivor.

The only reason you could come up with to explain your survival was a glitch in the matrix. After years of brainstorming through the little memories you had, only bits and pieces made sense. Of course you knew your name, you knew you lived in New York City because that’s where you woke up, you knew you were thirteen when it all started, but that was pretty much it. A newspaper you found during one of your first few days in the apocalypse told you the date of which it happened: April 1st, 2019. This never made sense to you, due to the fact that you were born in 1989. How could you have possibly woken up in the future?

At first, you were extremely cautious. Examining bodies that lay in the street, making sure there were no bites taken out of them, in fear of the possibility that zombies were somehow the end of the world. But no, no zombies. Not even killer robots. The most logical explanation you could think of was a natural disaster. Possibly an asteroid impact that shattered the globe and scorched its people, but who knows.

The apocalypse was hard to adjust to, having to teach yourself a lot in order to survive, but soon enough you knew how to live a stable life on your own.

You learned to wield weapons, always having a loaded gun or sharpened knife with you, just in case you ever found someone alive who would try to fight you for your supplies, yet no one ever did.

Until today.

You had been walking down the highway for a few days now, heading south for the winter to escape the cold. Dragging your wagon behind you, which carried all your necessities, you noticed a gas station on the side of the road in the distance. Your food rations had been running low, so you were thrilled to be able to stock up before continuing your travels.

Swerving through the abandoned cars that were left on the road, full of bones, you quickly walked to the rest stop. You would’ve opted for running but you did your best to preserve your energy for when it was needed most.

Like always, there were no footprints indicating there were others present. No signs of survivors, just the occasional pile of bones.

Before you brought the entirety of your belongings inside, you went through your backpack for a small pistol and quickly loaded it before shoving it in your pocket. A knife was snug in your sock for easy access as well. Your wagon was left just outside the door for a moment as you went up to the glass and scanned the interior of the gas station. Nothing looked suspicious so you grabbed your wagon and made your way inside. It was difficult to maneuver the metal cart through the door but once it passed through, you hurried over to the closest aisle and started examining its contents.

You were thrilled to find pads that hadn’t been entirely burned up, stuffing a good amount of those into your backpack. There was a good amount of medicine and health supplies still intact but you didn’t entirely trust the expired medication. The wall was lined with shelves of unrefrigerated drinks which you were about to stand up and look through when you heard something. It almost sounded like a shoe squeaking against the smooth floor.

You froze. You mustn’t have heard that correctly.

There were often times where you hallucinated people. Just simple people, families living their normal lives in a normal world like it hadn’t burned to the ground. Noises that you knew weren’t real played in your head. But this made every alarm ring in your brain

Survival kicked in as you remained low, your shoes were scuffed up and you were careful and light on your feet. It couldn’t have been you that made that sound.

You slowly crawled to the edge of the aisle, lifting each foot as quietly as possible until you made it to the corner.

Instead of sticking your head out of the aisle to look, in fear of a headshot, you looked for a reflection that could tell you if anything or anyone else was in the store.

In the corner above your head, there was a circle reflective mirror that allowed you to see the entire store, but as you noticed it, you weren’t fast enough to dodge the figure around the corner that lunged at you as soon as your eyes saw its reflection.

The figure covered most of their face with a cloth mask and a hat with goggles that covered their eyes. They pinned you down onto the hard floor by your shoulders and it knocked the breath out of you initially but you quickly stabilized and kicked your knees up into them to shove them off. Neither of you had gotten up onto your feet yet, both brawling, almost forgetting how to fight after only imagining it for so long. The two of you quickly stood up to continue the fight and before they could lunge at you once again, you drew the pistol from your pocket and aimed it straight for their head. You didn’t want to shoot the only other living person in the world, yet you would if you had to.

You couldn’t make out their eyes through the goggles but you could see them freeze at the sight of the barrel pointing at them.

The gun was as steady as your stance. They slowly raised their hands as they reached for the hat. You cocked the gun, warning them not to dare to reach for anything. They raised one hand in reassurance as they pulled off the hat, the goggles coming off with it.

A boy.

His hair was shaggy, dark brown and awkwardly grown out. His eyes were a piercing green, brightly contrasting from the dust and dirt on his forehead.

As he pulled his bandana from the bridge of his nose, he revealed the rest of his face to you.

Damn.

You cursed your initial thoughts, yet they only made sense.

Stuck in the end of the world with a boy your age, what was the universe trying to insinuate?

He could tell you were caught off guard as your eyes were caught on his face. Noticing your faltering hands, he quickly twisted the pistol out of your hands, kicking it away as it fell to your feet, and twisted you around until your back was firmly pressed against his chest. He had your arms pressed down to your side as his wrapped around you and held you down. You tried to shake him off but his voice in your ear made you freeze. The warm breath on your cheek soothed you, even with his threatening demeanor.

“How are you alive?”

Your chest rose and fell as you tried to stabilize your breathing in his hold.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

How was it possible that there was another survivor, coincidently your age, who you just happened to avoid for the past five years? It made you question how many others were out there, or if it was only the two of you left on the planet.

He squeezed you harder in his hold, an uncomfortable tightness in your sides, as he demanded into your ear, “Answer the question.”

There was no point in struggling further, “I don’t know, okay? I woke up one day and the world was destroyed,” you gasped.

He loosed his hold and turned you around, eyes frantically searching over you, searching for a sign you might continue to fight him.

You stood still, staring at him in return, not sure what to do. He seemed deep in contemplation, but that’s what happens when you’ve spent years living in your own head.

“I don’t remember anything from before,” you elaborated, “I just remember waking up in a pile of rubble, surrounded by fire and bodies.”

You analyzed his face as he took in your story, imaging if the same thing happened to him. Does he remember anything from before? Could he tell you what happened?

When he made no move to verbalize his thoughts, you said one last thing on your mind.

“I didn’t think anyone else survived.”

With this, he looked up at you with a furrow in his brow.

“Well great, as if there weren't enough resources to begin with.”

He bumped your shoulder as he made his way back to the aisle he was originally in, kneeling next to a backpack as he resumed filling it with whatever he found necessary.

You were shocked to say the least. How could he be so indifferent to find out someone else survived? Did he want the whole fucking world to himself?

As he paid no further attention to you, you decided to grab your own bag and continue filling it with as much goods as possible, concerned he would selfishly take everything good.

You hopped over the counter to grab the entire supply of lighters, lighter fluid, and batteries. When you looked up, the boy was standing in front of the counter with a pissed off look on his face.

“Did you take everything?”

You shrugged, “Maybe.”

This time, you actually walked around the counter instead of hopping over, and as you were doing so, you noticed a case of water bottles. Clean drinking water was unfortunately hard to come by, so this was a good score. You picked up the case with a smug grin and walked by him out the door.

He followed right behind you, “Oh come on, you have to share that,” he pleaded.

“Oh I have to? I don’t think so, I don’t owe you anything,” you said as you plopped the case onto your wagon.

As you walked off, you could tell he was in a bit of a mental dilemma, yet you were also in the same boat.

Should you turn around and work together with him? Combine resources and stop the other from going mad in isolation? Or should you go your separate ways? Stay on your own, only focusing on keeping one person alive.

You came to a stop, deciding it might be better to stick with him. If he threatened you or if he was too much of an asshole, you could just kill him.

When you turned around you jumped, not realizing he had walked up to you.

“I have a base, not too far down the road,” he said to you, “We could work together.”

You signed, contemplating one last time. You only made a base once, but it didn’t hold up well and you ran out of supplies quickly. It was easier to be on the road and travel for food and make temporary stops. However, something told you to go with him. Call it instinct if you will, but you stuck your hand out. He immediately took your palm in his and gave it a firm shake.

If only you knew what you were getting into.

~~~

#five hargreeves #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves x reader #tua fandom #five hargreaves x reader #tua five #number five #aidan gallagher x reader #enemies to lovers #five hargreeves smut #five hargreeves x reader smut #five hargreeves x you #number five x reader #number five imagine #five x you #five x reader

72 notes · View notes

dianawinchester03 · 2 days ago

Text

Season 3, Episode 3 - Bad Day At Black Rock (Part One)

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: Hiiiii. HAPPY NEW YEAR LOVES. It’s been a minute since I’ve updated but I finally hauled my lazy ass and finished up the new episode🤣

Random but the song inspo for this chapter is Best Friend’s Brother by Victoria Justice💀

So my dumbass FORGOT that in the actual show, Ruby revealed herself to be a demon in season 3 episode 2💀I just widdled it into this episode with my own twist, as per usual hahaha.

This chapter stands at 24.7k words combined and this is part 1. Here is part 2! Hope everyone enjoys it🫶

Trigger Warning: mentions of sexual assault towards female character (no sexual assault actually takes place)

____________________________________________

Third Person POV

Aurora, New York

•One Week Later

Sam and Y/N were currently in a diner, both nose deep into information on lores, searching for any type of way to get Dean out of his demon deal. They left Dean back at Y/N’s safehouse, leaving the elder Winchester passed out after having one too many last night and almost getting into a bar fight.

Luckily, he made it out of there intact, thanks to getting hauled out on his ass by Sam and Y/N. His actions earned him multiple smacks to the noggin by his loving girlfriend and a lecture from his caring younger brother while getting driven back to the house. He barely heard a word that went past Sam’s lips since he fell asleep in Y/N’s lap in the back seat halfway through the drive.

Then after getting tossed over his brother's shoulder from the Impala to the room and stuffed into a thick fluffy blanket, Y/N made it her duty to coddle and love a half conscious, drunken Dean Winchester. Changing him out of his clothes, which he ended up barfing all over. Then having to clean up and help him shower while he yapped about “how sorry he was for ruining her jacket”, “how much he loved her” and “how much his little brother meant to him”

All while threatening to castrate her in her sleep if she uttered a word of his drunken ramblings to Sam. Y/N simply snickered at him while she placed fresh clothes on his body, tucked him away, then whispering a soft, “I’ll never tell him your secret, charming. No matter how sweet they are” Before swaddling him away into her arms and falling soundly asleep.

Now back to the current time, since they’d been on the road for the past week, Jo took a detour for a case in Long Island with her mom. She said she’d be back in a few days tops but it had already been a week and no signs of the Harvelle ladies. Sam was on his third cup of coffee, growing antsy by the second.

Y/N was busy typing away on her laptop, her eyes flickering up to Sam when she noticed him finished his third cup. “Over caffeinating is not gonna make her call faster, Samuel. She’s fine” Y/N assured him in a deadpan tone as she scrolled through a dark website. “I know that” Sam retorted with a huff, “I just miss her” He said in a low tone as he fidgeted with his coffee mug, staring into the now empty cup. Y/N glanced up from her laptop at him with a raised brow.

Sam let out a sigh, leaning back in his chair, rolling his eyes when he saw the look on her face. "But it's been a week already. You know how dangerous hunting can be. And they took a job on Long Island, no less. Not exactly a hotspot for peaceful demons and ghosts." Y/N snorted in amusement, "And there it is" She shook her head as she wrapped her fingers around her own mug.

Sam raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "What do you mean by, 'And there it is'?" he asked, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. She shot her best friend an unimpressed look before reaching over and tapping him on his forehead. Sam swatted her hand away with a scoff, trying to look annoyed. "What the hell was that for?" Y/N raised a brow in response. "You're getting all flustered, like a schoolboy who just got dumped by his high school sweetheart." She smirked as she continued, leaning back in her seat.

"And it doesn't do you any good worrying yourself sick over it. You know they can handle themselves just fine. Besides, I'm sure Jo will call as soon as they finish dealing with whatever's going down in that sleepy beach town." Sam huffed out a sigh, hating how well she could read him. "I hate you" He grumbled, beginning to bite at his thumbnail as he scribbled down details to a possible soul-ritual on a piece of paper.

She chuckled, shaking her head. "No, you don't." She glanced down at the notes on the table, her eyes skimming over the page. "Any progress on finding anything that can reverse a deal?" Her fingers tapped against the rim of her mug as she took a sip. He shook his head as he ran a hand over his jaw. "Not much." he confessed. "Most of these soul-retrieving rituals seem like some sort of voodoo bullshit. Nothing that's actually gonna get us anywhere." He groaned in frustration, tossing the pen down on the table.

Just then, a sound of the diner door bells jingling echoed through the crowded diner. They paid no attention to the patron entering, indulging in their own conversation. The duo was caught off guard when a familiar face sat next to Y/N, across from Sam. “Hello, Sam” The blonde haired woman smirked at the younger Winchester, paying no mind to Y/N. Their eyes widened in surprise and a tinge of fear. "You" Y/N gasped.

“You've been following us since Lincoln" Sam pointed out at Ruby, slamming a book over his paper as Y/N slammed her laptop shut. "Not much gets by you, huh?" Ruby mused as she reached into Y/N's plate, stealing one of her fries "Hey! Get your own bitch" Y/N exclaimed as she snatched her plate back, giving Ruby a death glare. Sam leaned forward in his seat, trying to ignore Y/N's obvious anger. He kept his eyes trained on the demon.

Ruby moaned as she bit into the fries, "Mmm, these are amazing. It's like deep fried crack. Try some" Her last few words had an underlying skittish tone as she smirked at Sam. He scoffed in disgust at her words as Y/N continued to glare at her, gritting her teeth. Something about this chick didn't rub her the right way. Ruby's smirk only widened as she watched Y/N's expression.

"Calm down, kitten, you'll give yourself a stroke," she quipped, stealing another fry from the now guarded plate. Y/N clenched her jaw at the nickname, "Cut the bullshit" She spat. "That knife you had, you can kill demons with that thing?" She asked, keeping her fries guarded. “Sure comes in handy when I have to swoop in and save damsels in distress” Ruby quipped back, causing Sam and Y/N to roll their eyes in annoyance.

“Where'd you get it?” Sam asked as Ruby slid a plate over, squirting a hefty amount of ketchup into his plate, now digging into Sam’s fries, “Skymall” Sam and Y/N scoffed again, “Why are you following us?” He asked. “I’m interested in you” Ruby smiled as she chewed, “Because you're tall. And I love a tall man”

Y/N couldn't hold back the eye roll as Ruby continued to flirt with Sam. "Can you stop trying to charm the pants off of him?" She grumbled. "He's taken, by a much hotter blonde, thank you very much. So I'd suggest you scurry along back to whatever hole you crawled out of" Y/N growled, defending Sam in Jo's absence, glaring at Ruby once more.

Ruby raised a brow at Y/N with a smirk. "Ooh, the little kitten's got claws" She teased as she took another one of Sam's fries, much to his annoyance. Sam quickly intervened, trying to keep focus on the reason for why Ruby was really here. "Cut it out" He snapped, "And there's the whole antichrist thing" Ruby added, dipping her fry into the ketchup.

“Excuse me?” The two hunters echoed in unison, suddenly intrigued by what the hell she was talking about. Y/N was on the edge of her seat, her previous annoyance replaced by curiosity. “You know, the generation of psychic kids. Yellow eyed demon rounds you up, celebrity deathmatch ensues. You’re the last two survivors” Ruby mused, taking up Y/N’s mug of coffee to sip on it.

“How do you know about that?” Sam asked as Y/N remained dumbfounded. “I'm a good hunter” Ruby shrugged as she leaned back into her seat, placing the mug back down onto the table, “So, Yellow Eyes had big plans for you two” Ruby smirked, “Had, being the keyword” Y/N bit back as Sam glared at Ruby.

“Oh, yeah yeah yeah. That’s right. Ding-ding, the demon’s dead. Good job with that.” The demon mused, “Doesn’t change the fact that you two are special..in that Anthony Michael Hall and Jennifer Love Hewitt, ESP-vision kind of way-”

“No. No, that stuff’s not happening to me anymore. Not since Yellow Eyes died” Sam cut her off, “Well I’m thinking you’re still big deals. I mean, after all that business with your moms” These words from Ruby made Sam and Y/N’s heads snap in her direction.

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock and fear, “What about our mothers?” She asked, her heart starting to beat violently against her ribs. Ruby casually leaned her chair back, taking another sip of Y/N’s coffee, “You know, what happened to their friends” She mused. Sam and Y/N exchanged looks as their brows furrowed in confusion but they tried to mask it with hard gazes.

“You guys don’t know” Ruby playfully gasped, Sam’s nostrils flared as Y/N clenched her fists, tearing her eyes away from Ruby. “You’ve got some catching up to do, friends” Ruby smirked as she took out a pen from her pocket and took Sam’s hand into hers.

Y/N’s heart pounded violently in her chest at the sight of Ruby grabbing Sam’s hand, but she tried to keep a straight face. Sam snatched his hand back from her touch, recoiling in disgust as she tried to write on his hand.

“Don’t touch me” He snapped, his voice cold and serious. Ruby chuckled at his reaction, “Awh, that’s no way to treat a girl” She pouted mockingly, taking his hand again, “What the hell are you doing?” he snapped, trying to swat her away with his other hand, but Ruby was persistent.

“Seriously, dude, knock it off” Y/N snapped, noting Sam’s discomfort. She shoved Ruby’s hand harshly away from Sam’s. “Easy, kitten” Ruby scoffed, rolling her eyes at the psychic as she took up a napkin, waving it their faces before scribbling her number onto it.

Y/N’s blood boiled as she heard her nickname leave Ruby’s lips. "Call me that one more time, I'll cut your goddamn tongue out" Y/N sneered, her expression hardening as she clenched her jaw. Ruby simply chuckled, unaffected by the threat as she slid the napkin with her number on it across the table to Sam.

“Go look into your mothers’ pals and then give me a call, and we’ll talk again” Ruby said in a sultry tone before getting up from the booth. Y/N watched as Ruby walked away from the booth, feeling a sense of relief and hatred at the same time. Her eyes turned to Sam, who was watching the demon through the window.

“Please tell me we’re not actually gonna call her” Y/N’s voice was stern, but with an undertone of concern. Sam sighed, taking in the information that was just given to him. “Aren’t you the least bit curious about what she just said about our moms?” Sam asked lowly, contemplating looking into it.

Y/N leaned back in the booth cushions, crossing her arms as she thought about it. Part of her was curious and intrigued about the mention of her mother, but the other half was still on edge and skeptical about Ruby's motives. "I am, but I don't trust her" Y/N admitted, her eyes narrowing.

"Who's to say she's not lying just to get our attention?" Y/N continued, watching as Ruby's figure disappeared from view. Sam thought for a moment, fiddling with the napkin in his hands. "If she's telling the truth, then it's something we should look into" He said, his tone serious and cautious.

Y/N sighed, nodding her head. “Alright, I’m gonna go order some breakfast for Dean. Drop me off at the house and I’ll meet you at the library after” she told him as she slid out from the booth, walking over to the counter to order Dean some breakfast.

Sam watched her go before letting out a sigh himself. He looked down at the napkin in his hands, Ruby's number scribbled on it. He folded the napkin and shoved it in his pocket before getting up from the booth.

•One Hour Later

Y/N watched as the Impala roared down the dirt street with Sam behind the wheel before turning a corner and disappearing from sight. She shoved her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket and started making her way back to her safehouse.

Her mind kept going back to that knife, she had an itching feeling towards it. She forced herself to shove it to the back of her mind as she slid the key into the door. Y/N entered the empty, making her way up the stairs and to the room where she found Dean, still fast asleep, tangled in the sheets and sprawled across the bed. She chuckled to herself at the sight, setting his breakfast down on the nightstand.

She sat at the edge of the bed, gently pushing some of the hair at the side of his head behind his ear. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, his temple, his cheek and lastly at the dimple below his chin before she pushed herself up from the bed. She stopped in her tracks when she remembered he would wake up with a banging hangover soon, so she shifted her gaze to her duffel bag.

She unzipped it and rummaged through it, coming up with a pack of ibuprofens, a bottle of Tylenol and a water bottle. She set the pills down next to his breakfast, along with the water. She then dug through her bag again, pulling out a pack of sticky notes and a pen from her pencil case.

Y/N scribbled a note and stuck it on the lid of the pill’s bottle that read:

‘Hangover cure. Eat your breakfast, take two and watch an old movie on my laptop. Doing research with Sammy, be back in a few hours. Love, your ESP Thing’

She signed it off, before picking up her things and shoving them back into her bag. She stuck another with a little heart drawn and colored in with the pen, saying: ‘Make sure you hydrate, dummy’, onto the water bottle, next to the breakfast, hoping Dean wouldn’t go batshit when he wakes up alone.

Just as she set her bag down onto the bed, she saw a familiar blue glow omit from the bag. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows as she watched her bag glow a soft blue. She quickly knelt down at the foot of the bed and unzipped the duffle bag, her eyes widening as she was greeted by the glowing knife.

“What the-” She gasped, quickly shutting her mouth when she heard a light groan come from Dean. She tiptoed over, hoping she didn’t wake him, but he simply rolled over onto his belly and began snoring again. He seemed to still be asleep so she let out a soft sigh of relief before bringing her attention back onto the knife.

She took in the blade’s appearance, her eyes tracing over the intricate runes and symbols etched along the edges. She was still in shock as she reached a shaky hand out to hold the blade, watching as the light seemed to glow brighter at her touch.

None of this made sense, she knew she gave it to Bobby. So how did the knife reappear back into her possession? This couldn’t mean anything good. So y/n quickly fished out her phone from her pocket and began dialing Bobby’s number.

Just as she was about to click the call button, her finger froze. She shifted her gaze back to the knife that seemed to glow softly in protest.

No, I have to tell him. Knives don’t just appear out of thin air. Y/N’s inner thoughts pleaded with her.

“Fuck” she muttered, letting her hand fall back down to her side as she shut her phone with a loud click. Her eyes stayed fixated on the knife, her mind racing with all the possible explanations for the blade's sudden reappearance in her duffle.

She sighed, her mind conflicted and confused, as the knife continued to emit a soft glow. She knew she should call Bobby and inform him. But for some reason, a strong force inside her screamed at her to keep it from everyone, even Dean.

Y/N softly groaned, not too loud to wake up her boyfriend. Before tearing her eyes away from the knife, she placed it gently on the bed. She sat on the edge and placed her head in her hands, frustrated at the internal struggle going on inside her head. Her thoughts were swirling around the blade that was still sat next to her, the glowing blue light that seemed to call to her.

She knew it was stupid. Why was she feeling this attachment to a goddamn knife? And more importantly, why did the idea of losing the knife fill her with more dread than she’s ever felt before?

"Why me?" she muttered to herself, her eyes darting between the knife on the bed and the still asleep Dean on the bed. She knew she should call Bobby, but something was holding her back. She was torn between listening to her instincts and going with her head.

She succumbed to the pressure and snatched up the knife, sticking it into her black leather knee high boots. She convinced herself that keeping this knife would ensure that her family remain protected, seeing as it somehow exorcised two of the Seven Deadly Sins back to hell and the knife Ruby had killed two others.

Maybe she could somehow save Dean from going to hell. Who knows?

Y/N took a deep breath, her resolve now set. She stood up from the bed, her boots thumping against the thin carpet. She took up her motorcycle helmet from the floor and the keys from the nightstand as she took one more glance at the sleeping form of Dean. Her heart felt painfully heavy as a small content smile spread across her lips.

She pressed her palm to her lips, blowing a kiss towards him before making her down the stairs and towards the front door, quietly slipping out and closing the door behind her. Y/N stepped out of the house and took a deep breath. The cool air felt refreshing as she made her way over to Quinn parked outside in the yard, slinging her helmet on and strapping it.

She flung her leg over the bike and settled in, grabbing her keys as she started the engine. The bike roared to life, the sound echoing through the empty parking lot. With a final quick glance back at the house, Y/N took off down the street, headed towards the library to meet Sam.

____________________________________________

•Time Montage

Y/N groaned, rubbing her stiff neck. The library was practically empty except for a handful of other students, most of them with their heads buried in laptops or textbooks. Y/N leaned back in her chair, her eyes going blurry from staring at the computer screen.

She stretched her arms above her head, feeling the tension roll off her shoulders as she spoke into her phone. “Hi, I needed to check some facts with your…uh..secretary about a fire that occurred on November 24th, 2006 in Lawrence, Kansas” She said as Sam bit his thumb nail nervously.

Her breath hitched in her throat upon the woman’s answer, "Okay, thank you so much." She added, before hanging up and turning her attention to Sam, she smacked his hand away from his mouth. “Are you insane? You're gonna bite your nails down to stubs" She scolded, before he could even respond.

She then stuck her own nails into her mouth, now biting her own nails nervously. Sam shot her an unimpressed look, shaking his head.

“This is Police Chief, Phil Jones” Sam said into the phone, making sure no one heard.

“Hardecker was his name….Okay. Great. I’m just trying to find out the day he died” Y/N asked as she pressed the phone between her shoulder and cheek, typing away on her laptop. “July 13th?” She and Sam shared a look of horror.

“Can you check the records for me for a Robert Campbell and a Marcel Blackwood, July 19th 2001” Sam asked the coroner over the phone, waiting patiently. “Both dead on arrival?” His tone dropped.

Y/N listened to the conversation, her eyes scanning over the laptop screen. She felt a sense of dread growing in the pit of her stomach as they continued, scratching off both names from the list.

“What I’m after is the cause of death” Sam grumbled as he rubbed his eyes, “Heart condition?” He tilted his head in confusion as Y/N furrowed her brows. “What the fuck?” She mouthed to him as she scratched off the name. He placed his hand up, telling her to wait. “Wasn't he a cardiac surgeon? Wouldn’t he have known about that?”

“I’m looking for information on Mrs. Wallace’s death….three deaths? Who were the others?” Y/N’s eyes widened, running a hand over her mouth. Sam groaned as he scratched off another name on the list. “Ed Campbell and Jackson Blackwood” Y/N ran her hand over her face again as Sam scratched off the last remaining two names on the list.

“No, that’s all I needed. Thank you very much” Y/N finished before turning the phone off. Y/N let out a deep sigh, her mind racing with the new information. “Oh my god.” Sam muttered. "This is crazy," she muttered back in agreement, her eyes moving from the laptop screen to Sam.

____________________________________________

Now in a motel room they booked for a couple of hours, Ruby stood across from them as Y/N glared at her once again and Sam stood with his arms crossed. “They’re dead. All of my mom’s friends, all of y/n’s mom’s friends, their doctors, their uncles. Everyone who ever knew them, systematically wiped off the map one at a time”

“Someone went through a hell of a lot of trouble trying to cover their tracks” Y/N scoffed as she crushed the bud to her burst of cigarette in the ashtray. “Yup. Yellow Eyes Demon” Ruby deadpanned. “So, what’s your deal? You show up wherever Sam is like a creepy stalker, you know all about us, all our moms” Y/N spat accusationally, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Just trying to help," Ruby responded, her tone almost innocent. Sam gave Y/N a warning glance, silently asking her to keep her temper in check. Y/N let out a frustrated sigh, her eyes narrowing at Ruby. She didn't trust her one bit, but she couldn't deny that Ruby seemed to have information that they needed.

Y/N let out a frustrated huff, her fingers tapping against her wrist. “Help us? How?” she retorted, her voice dripping with skepticism. “I already told you, I’m just a-” Sam cut Ruby off, “Oh, right. Right. Yeah, yeah. Just a Hunter? Just some Hunter who just happened to know more about our families than we do” Sam shot back with dripping sarcasm.

Y/N clenched her fists, feeling a surge of anger rise within her for no reason whatsoever, she couldn’t figure out why she was extremely snappy but she wanted nothing more than to punch Ruby in the face, but she kept her cool, barely. "Yeah, a 'just a Hunter' who seems to know a hell of a lot more than we do" she gritted out between clenched teeth.

Sam shot her another warning glance, silently urging her to calm down and stay focused. Y/N took a deep breath, trying to control her emotions. “Just tell us who you are,” Sam said, asking Ruby, trying to remain calm. “Sam, it-” Ruby chuckled, shaking her head as Sam stalked over to her form. She was leaning against a table.

“Just tell us who you are” Y/N repeated, trying to remain calm also. “It doesn’t matter,” Ruby shook her head. "Of course it matters!" Y/N snapped out of frustration, "You know who we are, what we are, and all about our families! You know things that we don't-"

“Fine,” Ruby said calmly, cutting Y/N off mid sentence. She shut her eyes before opening them back up. Her eyes flashed over a ball of black, indicating she was a demon. Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she stared at Ruby's eyes, horror and confusion coursing through her veins. Sam’s eyes widened in horror as he backed away, scrambling over to his bag for holy water. “Think twice before going for that holy water” Ruby mused,

“Give me one reason I should” Sam growled. “I’m here to help you guys” Ruby shrugged, this made Y/N snap, instantly grabbing the demon by her collar. “Like hell you are!” Y/N exclaimed, her voice laced with anger and resentment as she slammed her into the wall. Anger rose in Ruby’s veins, but she shook with fear when Y/N pulled out her knife from her jacket.

The dagger glowed fiercely in her right hand as she pressed it to Ruby’s throat. Sam stood frozen, “How the hell did you get that back? I thought you gave it to Bobby?” His voice shook. "It doesn’t matter," Y/N spat, her eyes still fixed on Ruby. A mix of anger and hatred in her eyes. “Is this some kind of fucking joke?” She growled at the demon.

“Is this some kind of fucking joke?” She growled at the demon. “God’s honest truth…or whatever” Ruby snorted, raising her right hand before dropping it. She winced as Y/N pressed the blade harder against her throat. “You know, I could kill you right here” She shot back at Y/N.

A small smirk tugged at the corner of Y/N's mouth, “I’m the one with a knife to your throat right now that could send your ass back to hell, so I'd say the advantage is mine” She grinned menacingly. “You’re a demon” Sam spat, grappling his holy water in his hand as he stalked over to Y/N and Ruby. “Don’t be such a racist” Ruby rolled her eyes, “I’m here because I want to help you. And I can, if you guys trust me”

"Trust?” Sam scoffed incredulously, holding up his holy water. “Sam, Y/N, calm down” Ruby pleaded. "Start talking. All those murders, what was the demon trying to cover up?” Sam demanded. Ruby didn’t answer so Y/N gripped her by her throat and slammed her back into the wall.

"Answer the question” Y/N ordered, her voice trembling with anger as she held the knife to the Demon's throat. "Okay, okay, okay" Ruby choked out, her voice strained. “I don’t know what he was trying to cover up.” She admitted, “What happened to our moms?” Y/N demanded as Sam shot Ruby a nasty glare. “I honestly don’t know! That’s what I’m trying to find out. All I know is that it’s about you two”

"What?” Y/N and Sam exclaimed in unison, their eyes wide with confusion and disbelief. "Why would it be about us?" Y/N demanded, her grip on Ruby loosening slightly, her expression a mix of anger and curiosity. Ruby scoffed, “Don’t you get it? It’s all about you two, what happened to your moms, what happened to their friends. They’re trying to cover up what he did to you two”

“And I wanna help you guys figure it out” Ruby added with a shrug, her eyes fixated on Y/N’s knife. “I told you to be careful with that,” She said with a dark smile. Y/N bristled at the demon's words, her grip on the knife tightening again as she pressed it harder against Ruby's throat. "Why would you wanna help us?” Sam spat.

“I have my reasons. Not all demons are the same, Sam and Y/N. Not all of us want the same thing. Me? I wanna help you from time to time. That’s all. Like right now, I’m helping you by saying that knife you’ve got…you don’t know what it’s gonna do to you” Ruby smirked. "What do you mean by that?” Sam questioned, his eyes narrowing as he clutched the cap of the holy water bottle tighter.

“She’s full of shit, Sam” Y/N snapped, narrowing her eyes at Ruby. "Am I?" Ruby sneered, trying to shake her head. "You want to believe that? Okay.“ Y/N pressed the blade harder into her throat, a small trickle of blood running down her skin.

“How can I not sense you?” Y/N asked, gritting her teeth. "Maybe because you’re not that good” Ruby mused with a smirk. Y/N fought the urge to stab the demon right then and there. So she reeled her back again, slamming her into the wall to knock the wind out of her. “How?!” Sam bellowed, throwing holy water into the demon’s face.

“Goddammit!” Ruby exclaimed, her eyes squeezed shut as the holy water burned her skin. A small smile tugged at the corner of Y/N's mouth, a twisted satisfaction in her eyes as she watched the demon's pain. “Talk!” Y/N demanded again.

Ruby grimaced, looking up at Y/N with a glare. "Fine. Let go of me first." She growled. Y/N rolled her eyes but reluctantly loosened her grip on the demon, allowing her to stand upright. Sam stood ready to strike again with the holy water.

"Talk" Y/N repeated again, her voice firm. Ruby rolled her eyes, scoffing as she peeled off her brown leather jacket. She allowed it to plop to the ground before revealing the symbol etched into her skin. It was practically burnt in, the symbol was the exact same one Y/N spotted on Envy.

Y/N and Sam stared in shock at the symbol on Ruby's arm. "What the hell is that?" Sam asked, his eyes wide with disbelief. "That..." Ruby drawled, gesturing to the symbol with her left hand, "...is a protection symbol. It hides my presence, aura, whatever the fuck you wanna call it. From people like you” She stated as she pointed to Y/N.

"You're telling me that's why I can't sense you?" Y/N demanded, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the knife tighter. "Exactly" Ruby nodded, a smug smile on her face. Y/N resisted the urge to stab her right there and then. “I don’t believe this,” Sam scoffed, shaking his head.

“Oh believe it” Ruby snarked, “And if you let me help you…heh…there’s something in it for you” Ruby whispered. “What could you possibly-” Sam scoffed but Ruby interrupted them, “I could help you save your brother. I can help you save Dean” Y/N and Sam stiffened at the mention of Dean's name.

Y/N froze. Her heart skipped a beat, and her grip on the knife faltered slightly.

____________________________________________

“Because demon, that’s why!” Dean shouted at Sam and Y/N. “Because the second you find out this Ruby chick is a demon, you go for the holy water. You don’t chat” He ridiculed the two as if they were children.

They were now back at Y/N’s safehouse, currently in the kitchen. They woke Dean and spilled the beans about Ruby’s true nature. As much as one side of Y/N’s mind screamed at her to not tell Dean about the knife’s sudden reappearance, Sam insisted, begging her to do so.

He stuck the fact in her head that in general, she wouldn’t keep these types of secrets from them. So from the knife’s sudden reappearance and Y/N’s insistence to keep it a secret from Dean of all people. It couldn’t mean anything good.

“No one was chatting, Dean. Y/N had her up against the wall with that weird ass knife. She almost looked scared!” Sam defended, “Exactly, she couldn’t do us shit even if she wanted to” Y/N aided to Sam’s defense, crossing her arms over her chest. “Oh yeah, then why didn’t you use the damn thing and send her ass back to hell?” Dean shot back.

Y/N gritted her teeth, her eyes narrowing as she clenched her fists. "Goddammit, Dean, it's not that simple!” She exploded, her frustration boiling over. “What’s not simple about exorcising a fucking demon?!” Dean exclaimed, pushing himself up from the bed. “She said she might be able to help us out, Dean!” Sam revealed as Dean made his way over to the fridge.

“How?!” Dean snapped, opening the fridge and grabbing a beer. Sam and Y/N exchanged a skeptical look. Y/N shook her head, urging Sam not to tell Dean because knowing her boyfriend, he’d yell at them for wanting to save him from going to hell.

Sam sighed, knowing what Y/N was thinking. He knew Dean would be furious if he found out they were planning a way to save him. But deep down, he knew it was the right thing to do.

"Well?” Dean muttered, standing there with the beer in his hand, his eyes darting from Y/N's face to Sam's, waiting for one of them to say something. "We..." Sam started, his voice trembling. He glanced at Y/N, silently begging her to take over.

Y/N closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before she spoke, her voice low and steady. "She told us she could help you, okay?" She began, glancing at Dean for his reaction. “Help you out of the crossroads deal” Dean was in utter disbelief, he was almost amused at how naive his brother and girlfriend were being.

“What’s wrong with you two, huh? She’s lyin’. You’ve gotta know that, don’t you?” Dean scoffed as she took a swig of his beer. “She knows what your weakness is, it’s me!” Dean shouted. "We’re not idiots, Dean" Y/N retorted, her voice laced with anger. "We know she’s a demon but she might be telling the truth." Dean let out a harsh, humorless laugh as he took a swig of his beer.

"How gullible are you really?" He sneered, shaking his head in disbelief. Y/N looked hurt by his response, it made her laugh humorlessly. Sam’s head darted up by his brother’s words, “Dean, listen." Sam tried to reason with his older brother, his words firm. “We’re desperate here man. This is your life we’re talking about.”

“What else did she say?” Dean asked, Sam and Y/N exchanged another look. Remembering Ruby’s words about their mom’s deaths being all about them. The two’s eyes went wide for a split second, both urging each other not to say a word about it.

“Guys?” Dean urged them to talk. "Not much" Sam lied, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. "Nothing" Y/N said at the same time as Sam. Dean raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Nothing, okay?!” They exclaimed in unison. “For Christ’s sake, we’re not talking about trusting her. We’re talking about using her!” Y/N exclaimed as she placed her hands on her hips.

“I mean, we’re at war here, right? And we don’t know jackshit about the enemy. We don’t know where they are, what they’re doing. I mean hell, we don’t even know what the fuck they want!” Sam aided Y/N’s point. Dean’s eyes flicked between Y/N and Sam, his expression turning serious. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this.” He muttered in disbelief.

“Hear us out, charming.” Y/N pleaded, Dean’s face softened upon looking into her eyes. She strode over to him, taking his hands into hers. “This Ruby chick knows more than we ever will find out on our own. Now, yes, it’s a risk. We know that, but we need to take it” Y/N stated softly.

Dean let out a long, deep breath as he stared into Y/N's eyes, his gaze unwavering. His eyes dropped to their intertwined hands before looking over at his brother, who wore the signature puppy dog eye look Y/N was sporting. He looked at them with disbelief, “You guys are okay, right? I mean, are you feeling okay?” He asked Y/N and Sam.

Sam and Y/N groaned exasperated as Y/N snatched her hands away from Dean, “Yes, we’re fine. Why are you always asking that?!” Sam exclaimed, running a hand through his hair as a phone started to ring. “Because it’s my job to make sure you guys are fine” Dean retorted, his eyes never leaving Y/N’s.

Y/N rolled her eyes, letting out a scoff as they all checked their pockets. “It’s not mine,” Sam said, holding up his phone. Dean checked his pockets before shaking his head, “Nope”

“It's not mine either” Y/N said, her brows creasing in confusion as the ringing of the phone continued. “Well where the hell is it coming from?” Dean grumbled as he scanned the room. Y/N’s eyes darted to the living room, “I think it’s my dad’s” She muttered as she crossed the room and headed into the living room, “F/N’s?” Dean questioned, confused.

He followed behind, leaning against the doorframe as Y/N crouched, unzipping her other duffel bag and digging through it. Sam stood behind his brother, his eyes watching her. After a second of rummaging through the bag, she retrieved her father's old flip phone. “Yeah, I keep his phone charger up in case any of his old contacts call” she confirmed, holding up the ringing phone. She flipped it open, pressing it to her ear, “Hello?”

Y/N’s brow furrowed in concern as she held the phone in her hand, her eyes darting to the brothers. Dean’s eyebrows were furrowed in confusion as they silently listened. “Uh, no this is not Edgar Cayce. This is his daughter….” She lied fluidly as she shrugged at the boys.

“Oh- nonono, don’t call the police. I’ll handle this myself. Thanks. You know, can you just, uh…? Can you just lock it back up for me? Great-“ She cleared her throat before gesturing for Sam or Dean to get a paper and pen with her free hand. “Uh- Dad was always bad at writing stuff down, do you have the address so I can write it down?”

Sam handed Y/N a piece of paper and pen, watching her intently as she wrote the address down. “Uh-huh…right. Thanks a lot” She muttered into the phone before hanging it up and turning around to face the boys. “Did my dad ever tell you he kept a container at a storage place?” Y/N asked Dean with a raised eyebrow. “What?” Dean gaped, confused.

“Outside of Buffalo?” She added as Sam also gaped, “No way” Sam muttered, shocked, “Yeah. And someone just broke into it” Y/N nodded, tossing Dean the phone. Dean caught the phone with ease, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he looked at Y/N. “Your dad had more secrets than I thought” He said with a small scoff.

“Apparently” Y/N muttered, crossing her arms over her chest “But the question is” Sam began, a curious look in his eyes, “What was in there?”

____________________________________________

Black Rock, New York

“Man” Dean chuckled to himself as he shook his head. The trio were now in an elevator to the storage facility, heading up to the room F/N had. “What?” Sam asked, “Just F/N. You know? Him and dad with their secrets. Spend all this time with them and it’s like we barely knew em” Dean snorted. Y/N chuckled in agreement as the elevator came to a stop.

“Well, we’re about to learn something” She said, leaning off the wall as the boys lifted the shaft door up. All three of them stepped out, their footsteps echoing through the hall. They started walking forwards, passing countless other storage units. Y/N lead them, pulling out the key from her pocket as she stopped in front of the one labeled “159”.

She inserted the key into the lock before twisting it and opening the door. In front of them was the dark storage room, filled with countless boxes. They all fished out their flashlights, shining it through as they entered the storage room. Sam then shone his light on the ground, his eyes were met with a large devils trap. “No demons allowed” He muttered as Dean pointed out the bloodied footsteps. “Blood”

Y/N crouched down, shining her light from side to side. “Check this out, fellas” She pointed out the tripwire at the entrance. “Damn, your dad was prepared” Dean muttered as knelt down next to Y/N, following the tripwire with his light. He chuckled to himself, a grin forming on his face as he stood back up. “Classic F/N” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Whoever broke in here got tagged” Sam said aloud. “Daddy dearest” Y/N muttered sarcastically with a roll of her eyes, ignoring the painful stab she felt in her heart at the thought of her father keeping this a secret from her. Dean frowned when he noticed the twinge of angst in her tone. Instead, she focused back on the job.

“I got two sets of boot treads here, this was a two man job” Y/N stated as she stood back up, Dean’s eyes followed the direction her flashlight was shining, following the footprint. “And our friend with the buckshot in him, looks like he kept walking” he added, his eyes following the path of the footprints as he continued further into the storage room. Sam and Y/N followed behind him.

“So what’s the deal? You think Dad and F/N would do work here or something?” Sam inquired, “Living the high life as usual” Dean snorted, he shook his head in amusement when his eyes landed on the skeleton of a gator head. Dean’s eyes landed on a trophy, he picked it up, dusting it off, “1995”

Sam’s head darted over to him, immediately recognizing the trophy. “No way” He gasped, taking it from Dean. “That’s my division championship soccer trophy. I can’t believe dad kept this” He chuckled as he dusted it off, “Yes, that’s probably the closest you ever came to being a boy” Dean snorted in amusement as he eyes landed on a familiar gun.

“Oh, wow. This is my first sawed-off” He grinned, taking it up before turning to Y/N. “I made it myself in sixth grade” He bragged, laughing as he cocked the gun. Sam chuckled as Y/N let out an amused laugh. “Of course you’ve been making guns since sixth grade” She mumbled as they continued walking. She paused when her light landed on something.

“Hey, check this out” She said as she crouched, shining her light behind a pile of boxes. A bright smile stretched across her face when she saw a trophy from Sioux Falls High for MVP Varsity Cheerleader with her name engraved on it. Y/N picked the trophy up, delicately dusting it off as she stared down at the plaque with a smile. “Dad even kept my MVP cheerleading trophy” She chuckled.

Sam chuckled as he and Dean peered over her shoulder, their eyes glancing over the trophy. “You still got that uniform?” Dean teased, a smirk on his face. That earned him a playful gasp and smack to his chest from Y/N as Sam groaned dramatically, “Kill me now” He gagged.

“I thought I was hot in it” Y/N retorted, a smirk on her face, which Dean was quick to agree to, “Oh, you still are in it” He winked, to which Sam groaned aloud once again.

Dean and Y/N laughed as she knelt down again to rummage through a box. Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise as she pulled some photo albums out, opening it up. “Oh my gosh” She muttered as her eyes scanned over a few pictures.

Sam and Dean were quick to crouch down, peering over her shoulder to get a look at the photos. Y/N held a particular picture up. Dean’s breath hitched at the sight of the photograph, his eyes widening slightly as Sam stared at it in shock.

In the picture were Y/N, Dean, Sam, F/N and John. They stood with their arms wrapped around one another, smiling brightly at the camera. Their faces were much younger and more youthful, filled with genuine happiness. “Wow,” Dean muttered, staring at the photo in shock. “When was this taken?” Sam asked aloud.

“1987” Y/N stated as she flipped through the book. It led straight up to 1999 with various pictures. Sam and Dean were glued to the photos as Y/N flipped through them. “Wow, look at you guys” Dean chuckled as an old picture of five-year-old Sam and Y/N dressed up for Halloween as Wonder Woman and Batman. Their outfits looked homemade, the trio snorted in amusement at the picture.

“And what the hell are you supposed to be?” Sam questioned with a chuckle, pointing at a picture of a 9-year-old Dean, dressed in the most hideous of outfits. “A pimp..?” Y/N mumbled, letting out a loud laugh as Sam and Dean immediately burst out into laughter.

“I was Superman! Bobby made me that outfit!” Dean defended. “He made you that?!” Sam practically wheezed, clutching his stomach in laughter as Y/N let out hysterical laughter. She flipped the page again, her jaw dropping when she found their prom pictures. “No way!” She laughed as Sam covered his face in shame.

“Oh my God, I look like a fetus” He groaned at the picture of him hopping up on Y/N’s back for a piggy back ride, all while in his white tux and Y/N wore her black dress. The piggy back ride was per Dean’s request, just for his own shits and gigs.

Dean bursted out laughing as he pointed at the multiple pictures of Sam cringing and screaming because Y/N was jumping up and down and he was so scared she would drop him, “I remember this, she said you weighed like a baby gorilla!” Dean cackled, wiping his tears away from his eyes from laughing so much. Y/N’s face started to heat up when she looked at her picture with Dean.

Dean wore his black tux, his shaggy hair neatly slicked back. Their bodies were flush against each other. His eyes locked onto hers, a hint of longing and desire flashing through them. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph” She muttered as she traced over the picture.

“You wanted me sooo bad” Dean teased, poking his girlfriend's cheek, a twinge of cockiness in his tone. Y/N’s head whipped to his direction, playfully smacking away his hand, “Hey! You wanted me just as much, shut up” She defended with a grumble, Dean snickered in amusement though he didn’t deny it.

Y/N shook her head as she continued flipping, her eyes widening when she landed on a picture of her and Xander in 2001. She was sitting on his lap on the porch of her safehouse. She bullied Sam into taking the picture of them kissing so she could keep it for memories.

She quickly snapped the book shut before Dean could see it, “Okay! Enough of that” She said quickly, tossing it back into the box. Sam chuckled, a smirk on his face as he watched Y/N frantically slam the book shut. “Why did you slam that so fast?” Dean questioned, his eyebrows furrowing in curiosity as he peered up at her.

Y/N’s internally panicked but played it off like it was nothing. “Nothing, nothing. Just say a spider coming up the spine” She said casually, “Oh, what’s that?” She pointed to a grated gate to the back of the room. Changing the subject. It was chained and locked prior but the lock was busted open, presumably with a sledgehammer.

Dean’s head snapped over to where she was pointing, his eyes narrowing as he spotted the busted open lock. “What the hell?” He muttered, standing up as he approached it. Sam and Y/N followed close behind. Sam reached over and pushed the door inwards, a loud creaking from the metal echoed through the room. It was filled with all sorts of arsenal.

Their mouths fell agape as they peered around the room. “Son of a fucking bitch” “Jesus fucking Christ” Dean and Y/N gasped in unison, they looked like kids in a candy store. Sam let out a loud whistle, “Holy shit”. Dean was the first to venture in, a grin spread across his face as he looked around. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me” He practically laughed in excitement as he picked up an old Colt .45 off the table.

“Look at this, they had land mines” Y/N pointed out as she scanned the area. “Which they didn’t take,” Dean pointed out as he placed the gun down. He and Y/N knowing shared a look. “Or the guns…I guess they knew what they were after, huh?” She added as she turned to Sam. The younger Winchester wore a skeptical look on his face as he shone his light on some old wooden boxes.

“Hey Y/N/N, check these out. You see these symbols?” Y/N made her way over to him, squinting her eyes as she looked at the boxes. “Yeah, that’s binding magic” She said aloud, pointing at one of the symbols. Sam and Y/N exchanged a wide eyed look as Dean looked confused, “These are curse boxes” Sam said aloud,

“Curse boxes. Aren’t those supposed to keep the evil mojo in, right? Kinda like the pandora deal?” Dean questioned. “Yeah, yeah. They’re built to contain the power of the cursed object.” Y/N nodded in confirmation. “Dad’s journal did mention a whole bunch of stuff, you know? Dangerous hexed items, fetishes. He never did say where they’d end up” Dean stated as Sam and Y/N nodded.

“Yeah, well this must be their toxic-waste dump,” Sam deadpanned. He narrowed his eyes at an empty space. It had dust around it, the center was dust-free. Indicating a box was previously there. Y/N noticed this and brought her finger up, pressing it to the dust. “One box is missing” Sam pointed out, bringing his own finger up to the empty space before dusting it off simultaneously with Y/N.

“Great,” She muttered sarcastically. “Well, maybe they didn’t open it” Dean said hopefully with a shrug, smiling awkwardly at Sam and Y/N. Sam gave him a look that clearly said “really?” As Y/N let out a scoff. “When has our luck ever been that good, babe?” She pointed out, patting his shoulder.

____________________________________________

The Impala and Harley pulled up to the beat down apartment complex in quite a sketchy neighborhood. Parking side by side with their respective drivers holding the wheel and handlebars. Y/N flicked up the visor on her helmet to get a better look at the car they saw on the tape back at the storage facility after greasing the palms of the security guard to get the footage.

“Connecticut. Last three digits, 8-8-0” She said the plate number out loud as she turned to the Winchesters. “Yup. That’s it” Sam confirmed as Dean clicked his tongue. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Should’ve blacked out their plates before they parked in-front of the security camera” He snickered.

“Damn morons” Y/N muttered as she pushed her visor back down. She let out a chuckle as she looked over at the complex. “Nice place” She deadpanned, peeling her helmet off. “If you’re looking to get shot, that is” Dean added with sass as he shut the Impala off.

The trio clambered out of their rides, staring at the shady place. Sam looked less than pleased as his eyes landed on the cracked door that looked like it was practically hanging by its hinges by the entrance. “What an absolute shithole” He muttered as Dean shut his driver door, heading round to the trunk with Y/N.

Y/N was now kneeling in-front of the door to the apartment of the suspects from the video, trying her best to make the least amount of noise to pick the lock. It sounded like the two were inside so Sam and Dean cocked their guns behind her.

They stayed close behind her, keeping guard with their weapons readied and at the ready as she picked the lock to the door. It didn’t take too long before the lock clicked open and it slightly creaked as she pushed it in.

Dean and Sam were immediately on high alert when they heard movement from inside the apartment. “I can’t lose…I mean, really. I- I can’t lose” Wayne said as he picked up his drink from the table. Y/N whipped out her own gun as they trudged down quietly the dusty hall to the apartment.

“I mean, this thing really works. You know what I’m saying?” Wayne told Grossman as he picked up the cursed rabbit's foot. Sam, Dean and Y/N exchanged a look as they pressed their backs to the wall, “I’ll tell you one thing, there’s no way in fuckin’ hell, we’re handing it over to that stuck-up bitch now. Not after all we’ve been through” Wayne insisted.

“Mhm” Grossman agreed, Wayne smiled as the two men got up from the couch. “Let go, huh? Let’s get out of here. Let’s go have some fu-” Wayne didn’t get to finish his words when Dean made himself known, “Freeze, freeze! Nobody move” He bellowed with clear authority as they all emerged from the corridor.

Wayne and Grossman were frozen in absolute shock and terror as Y/N and Sam stood by Dean’s sides, guns aimed directly at them. They were completely outnumbered; and it clearly showed by the panicked looks on the two men’s faces.

“Don’t move. Don’t move!” Sam commanded. “What is this?!” Wayne demanded, fear potent in his voice as they held their hands up. “Stop and give us the box!” Y/N shouted as she inched towards Wayne, “And please tell me that you didn’t-”

“Oh, they did” Sam interrupted her words, nodding his head towards the opened curse box on the table. Y/N audibly groaned with annoyance as Dean’s eye twitched. “You opened it?!” He growled before grabbing Wayne by his collar and backing him up into the wall, pressing the barrel of his gun to his throat.

“Uhh! Are you guys cops?!” Wayne groaned, “Huh?!” Dean glared at him, “Are you guys cops?!” He asked again, panicked, “What was in the box?!” Y/N demanded as she trudged over to Dean, pointing her gun straight to the middle of Wayne’s forehead. Wayne breathed heavily as his eyes flickered over to the table.

The cursed rabbit’s foot rested perfectly in the open for taking. Their eyes moved over to the table, “Oh, was that it? It was, wasn’t it?” Dean asked, his attention now on the table as Y/N kept her gaze on Wayne. “What was that thing?” He muttered, Wayne took this opening to smack Dean’s gun away from his throat.

Causing him to accidentally pistol whip his unsuspecting girlfriend across her nose. “Fuck!” Y/N cursed as her hands instinctively went to her nose, dropping her gun in the process to stop the blood from spilling out from the wound.

Her gun dropping on the ground caused a bullet to go off, ricocheting around the room three times before the same bullet narrowly grazed Sam’s hand, resulting in him dropping his gun with a painful hiss. Almost as if it was….dumb luck.

They all instinctively covered their head, except for Y/N, who was nursing her nose. The bullet died, narrowly missing Dean and hitting a nearby lamp. Sam was dumbfounded, until he realized Wayne’s friend, Grossman, was eyeing Y/N’s discarded gun on the ground. He gritted his teeth as he tried, retrieve it, only to get pushed by Grossman and into his brother, their backs hitting each other.

Dean’s accidental back blow from his brother, resulted in him toppling over onto Y/N. The two lovers went crashing into a table with heavy grunts, as the rabbits foot went flying into the air and onto the ground. “Sorry!…AAHH!!” Sam apologized, only to get tackled by Grossman.

Dean’s body was somehow tangled between Y/N’s legs from the fall, his upper body pressing into her inner section. “Motherfucker, you’re heavy! Get off, you’re crushing my vagina!”

“Sorry, sorry” Dean mumbled as he tried to untangle himself from between Y/N’s legs. Dean grunted as he got up off of her, looked over at Sam and Grossman who were in a scuffle on the ground.

Wayne was slowly inching towards Sam’s gun when Y/N tried to sit up, “Oh no you don’t!” Dean attempted to reach for it, only for Wayne to retrieve it. Comedically whacking the elder Winchester across the face, causing him to grunt and fall once more on top of Y/N.

Y/N winced as her still bleeding nose hit the carpet, “Oh sweet baby Jesus…” She mumbled as Dean muttered another groggy ‘sorry’.

Meanwhile, Grossman was strangling the younger Winchester. His head was beginning to get hazy when he realized the cursed rabbit's foot was just fingertips away. Desperation kicked in and Sam reached for it, retrieving it within a matter of seconds.

Suddenly, a rush of adrenaline took him over once he had the rabbit's foot in possession. So he yanked Grossman’s hands off of his throat before lifting his knee between them, kicking him in the mid section.

The single kick sent Grossman flying a few feet into the air, landing across the room. “Dean! Y/N!” Sam shouted as he scrambled to his feet, “I got it” He held up the rabbit's foot, as Y/N helped up a groggy Dean, still weak from the slight blood loss.

“No you don’t” The cocking of a gun caught his attention, Wayne held Sam’s gun towards him. Dean’s eyes widened as tears welled up in Y/N’s. “No” She winced. Sam braced himself for impending death by his own gun, only for when Wayne pulled the trigger. The gun got jammed.

Dean took his chance and pushed himself to his feet, in an attempt to snatch the gun from Wayne, who was repeatedly trying to fire the jammed gun. Faith seemed to step in and a panicked Wayne ended up tripping on his own feet and into the couch. The couch went toppling over, rendering Wayne unconscious with a blow to his head.

Sam and Dean shared a surprised look as Y/N shouted, “Sam!” To gain his attention, upon seeing Grossman attempt to use the bookshelf to pull himself up and shoot Sam. But the bookshelf came down onto Grossman, resulting in the gun he had prior in his possession, being launched into the air.

Sam caught the gun one handed with ease as Grossman fell to the ground with a grunt, falling unconscious with one last book to his head. Everyone looked disheveled and confused, Dean and Y/N’s heads went from the unconscious man to Sam. “That was a lucky break” Y/N groaned as she clutched her nose.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Dean asked softly, looking a little shaken from the strange set of events. Y/N nodded before wiping some blood away with her thumb, the metallic substance now staining her cream colored T-shirt. “Yeah, I’m alright” Y/N assured, giving his arm a light squeeze as Sam trotted over, still clenching the now cursed rabbit's foot in his hand.

“Is that a rabbit's foot?” Y/N raised a brow as Sam lifted the foot to get a better look. “I think it is” He responded as he furrowed his brows. Dean looked equally flabbergasted, “Huh” He muttered before turning to Y/N again to get a better look at her busted nose.

The Impala and Harley were now parked outside of a diner, Y/N had sunglasses on along with two cotton swabs sticking up her nose. Her head was tilted back, resting on the seat in the back as Sam sat in front, trying to find anything about the rabbit’s foot from John’s journal.

Dean emerged from the convenience store next to the diner with a plastic bag in hand. “I’m not finding anything on it in Dad’s journal” Sam piped up as Dean clambered back into the driver's seat with the convenience store bag. “Good grief” Y/N murmured, still pinching her nose with two fingers.

Dean nodded as he pulled out a Gatorade, a bag of frozen peas and a pack of smokes. Handing it to Y/N. “I think I got everything you need to help reduce the swelling” he explained as she sat up straight, letting out a slight hiss as she took the items before dropping the bag onto her lap. “You’re a saint, sweetie” Y/N mumbled with a weak smile before taking a sip of the bottle.

“Yeah yeah, whatever” Dean huffed with a sarcastic tone, but his voice held no trace of hostility “Just trying to keep your pretty little face in tact” She rolled her eyes with a scoff as she pressed the peas to her nose but there was a tinge of a smile playing on her face.

Dean then took out the last item from the bag, a bunch of scratch offs. He smirked as he handed it to Sam. “Dean, come on” The younger Winchester scoffed with disapproval. “What?” Dean asked exasperated. “Hey, that was my gun he was pointing at your head. My gun don’t jam, so that was a lucky break” Dean defended as Y/N snorted from the back seat.

Thinking of an innuendo from Dean’s words, only to groan in pain again from the snort which was painful to do.

“That’s what you get” Dean shot back with a wink, only to receive a playful middle finger from his girlfriend. “Not to mention them taking themselves out, also a lucky break” She added. Dean nodded in agreement, shoving the scratch offs in his brother’s hand. “Here. Scratch one”

Sam snorted, rolling his eyes. “Come on, little Winchester. Scratch and win” Y/N urged as she tossed the peas beside her, digging into her pocket for a coin. Sam sighed as he accepted the coin, Y/N dropping it into his palm. “Dean, Y/N. It’s gotta be cursed somehow” Sam mumbled as he scratched at one of the tickets. “Otherwise Dad and F/N wouldn’t have locked it up”

He then handed the ticket back to Dean who did the math quickly in his head, his jaw dropping. “$1200. You just won $1200” He gaped. “No fucking way” Y/N exclaimed as looked over Dean’s shoulder to peer at the ticket. Sam’s jaw dropped also as Dean laughed, “Whoo!!!” He exclaimed celebratory as he and Y/N high-fived.

“I don’t know, man. That doesn’t seem that cursed to me” Dean smirked, handing his brother another ticket. Sam wore a stoic expression, snatching the ticket from his brother. “Lighten up, dude. Maybe it’s a lucky rabbit's foot, not cursed” Y/N suggested as Sam began to scratch another ticket. “Well, that’s a hell of a lot of luck” Dean muttered, but a smirk still played on his face.

Dean was practically giggling to himself, laying out all the winning lotto tickets on the hood of the Impala while Y/N spoke on the phone with Bobby, who was reprimanding Sam. She leaned against her bike, which was parked next to Dean’s car as Sam paced infront of her. “Sammy, calm down” Y/N tried to ease his tension.

“Look, Bobby, we didn’t know” Sam defended as he stopped in front of her. The phone was on speaker but Dean was too distracted by the tickets to hear the conversation. “You touched it? Damn it, Sam” Bobby exclaimed as he held up the rabbit's foot. “Well, Dad never told us about this thing. I mean, you know about his storage place in Black Rock?” Y/N shot back.

“His lockup? Yeah, I knew. Hell, I built those curse boxes for ‘em” Bobby confirmed as Sam’s eyes spotted something shiny on the ground. “Look, you have got a serious problem. That rabbit's foot ain’t no dime-store notion” Bobby warned them as Sam knelt down and pushed the newspaper side. Underneath was a gold watch. He lifted it up and showed Y/N, who’s jaw dropped as Bobby said.

“It’s real Hoodoo. Old World stuff” Bobby explained as Sam turned to show Dean the gold watch, raising it to the air. “Awesome” Dean mouthed in awe. “Made by a Baton Rouge conjure woman about a hundred years ago” Bobby told them. “It’s a hell of a luck charm” Y/N muttered, “It’s not a luck charm. It’s a curse. She made it to kill people, kids” Bobby exclaimed.

“What?!” Y/N exclaimed as Sam looked equally shocked at the revelation. “Yeah. See, you touch it, you own it. You own it, sure, you get a run of good luck to beat the devil. But you lose it, that luck turns. It turns so bad that you’re dead inside a week” Bobby explained.

“Well, so I won’t lose it, Bobby,” Sam assured him, “Everybody loses it!” Bobby exclaimed, “Well, then how do we break the curse?” Y/N countered as Sam shoved it into his pocket, “I don’t know if you can. Let me look through my library and make some calls. Just sit tight” Bobby muttered in frustration.

“Thanks, Bobby” Y/N muttered as Sam paced over to his brother. “Oh, and Y/N” Bobby added, she then took the phone off of the speaker and pressed it to her ear. “Yeah?” She asked, “That knife you gave me, I think I lost it. I’ve been trying to do my best to look it up but I keep coming up empty” He told her lowly.

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat, part of her mind was yelling at her to tell Bobby that it appeared in her bag but the other part was screaming to not say a word. Her mind was spinning trying to come up with a response but was coming up blank.

“Oh, yeah?” She asked slowly, trying to keep her voice neutral so that Dean and Sam wouldn’t get suspicious. There was a beat of silence before Bobby exhaled slowly on the other end of the line. “Yeah, it sucks. I think I’d have luck finding a needle in a haystack” Y/N forced out a short snort.

“Well, I guess that’s better than finding out if something was wrong with it. Don’t stress it, Bobby” She told him, her eyes darting over to the boys. “Yeah, I guess so” He responded, he didn’t sound very convinced but didn’t say anything else on the matter. “I’ll talk to ya later” He mumbled. “Yeah, alright. Bye” She muttered, hanging up the phone.

“Babe, we’re up 15 grand” Dean cheered as he waved the tickets. Sam frowned along with Y/N, he still hadn’t told Dean that the rabbit's foot was anything but good luck.

“Don’t worry, Bobby’ll find a way to break it” Dean assured Sam and Y/N as he opened the door to the diner. Allowing Y/N in first. “I’m sure he will” Y/N agreed, placing a hand on Sam’s shoulder giving it a reassuring squeeze as she walked into the diner which made her realise how hungry she was.

Sam still looked worried but Dean was trying to make the best of the situation. “Until then, I say we hit Vegas, pull a Rain Man. You can be Rain Man” Dean said excitedly. “I like it” Y/N added with a short laugh as they approached the host. “Look, we just lay low until Bobby calls back, okay?” Sam insisted before turning to the host.

“Hi, uh, table for three, please?” He said politely. The host wore a wide smile before shouting, “Congratulations!!” He then pulled an alarm, causing a bell to ring throughout the restaurant. “Exciting, I know” Dean muttered as he and Y/N shared a confused look and Sam looked around the restaurant with an expression that said, ‘What in the holy fuck is going on?’

The host then presented Sam with a large check, “You are the one millionth guest of the Biggerson’s Restaurant Family!” The trio held up the large check with faces that said, ‘the fuck?’ The entire staff emerged from the back with cameras, snapping pictures of the three. Suddenly they all started blowing party horns as everyone cheered.

Yellow, red and orange balloons came falling from the ceiling along with streamers and onto them.

Y/N peered over the check to read the prize, “Dude, free food. We’re getting free food for a year! Way to go, Sam!” She cheered excitedly. Sam cringed in discomfort as Dean and Y/N smiled widely for the camera, mainly at the fact that they could stuff their asses for free. Not caring whether the food was terrible or not.

Now sat at a booth, Dean was shoveling his third bowl of ice cream down his throat while next to him, Y/N was gnawing at her second cookie. “Bobby’s right. This lore goes way back. Pure Hoodoo” Sam confirmed, sitting across from them as he shut his laptop. “You can’t just cut one off any rabbit” He began. “Hmm” Dean hummed.

“It has to be in a cemetery, under a full moon, on a Friday the 13th.” Sam finished as Dean placed his bowl down on the table, “I say from now on..we only go to places with Biggersons” He suggested, Y/N smiled in response as Dean started groaning from a brain freeze, clutching his forehead.

Sam chuckled in amusement, “Serves you right, I told you to eat slower” Y/N teased through her mouthful of cookies as she placed a soothing hand on his shoulder while he hunched over the table, shaking his head. “Usually you’re begging me eat faster” Dean shot back with a wide grin.

“That’s a different type of faster” Y/N responded with a wicked smile. “Yeah I could've done without hearing that” Sam muttered with a grossed out face and a groan, causing the couple to laugh in response. “You know, Sam, you should really try their pie” Y/N joked, still munching down on her cookie. Sam frowned slightly, shaking his head, “No, I’m good” He replied reluctantly.

A very attractive waitress suddenly approached their table, her short skirt riding up slightly. “Can I freshen you up?” She said in a sultry tone, gesturing to Sam’s mug. “Yeah, yeah. Sure” Sam muttered, avoiding eye-contact with her. The waitress flashed him a wide beaming smile. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how hot she was, her eyes roaming over the woman.

The waitress smirked at the psychic, taking her attention off the mug just for a second. Only for a little bit of coffee to spill from the mug, onto the table. The woman gasped before placing the mug on the table, “Oh gosh. I’m so sorry” She exclaimed, grabbing a rag which was tucked into the pocket of her apron. Y/N leaned back into her chair, watching as the waitress bent over to clean up the coffee.

Her seductive smile towards Sam didn’t falter. “Oh, no don’t worry. It’s okay, I got it” Sam assured her, attempting to help her clean the mess up. “It’s no trouble, really” The waitress giggled with a bright smile. Dean looked almost starstruck, his jaw slightly hanging as he stared at the waitress.

“Okay” Sam mumbled, clearing his throat. “Sorry about that” The waitress said as she wiped up the coffee, purposely leaning in to swipe the rabbit's foot from Sam. She pickpocketed him so quickly, none of them noticed due to how they were all shamelessly ogling her as she walked off, her hips swaying with every step she took as she looked back at them with a sultry smirk.

Y/N was the first to snap out of it, “You’re both taken man, quit staring” She grumbled, firstly kicking Dean in his shin and then Sam’s shin underneath the table. Both brothers flinched simultaneously, hissing from the kick she sent to them with her boot. “Ow! What the hell, woman?” Dean exclaimed, rubbing his shin.

Y/N rolled her eyes at her boyfriend, “You were eye-raping her” She said in an annoyed tone. “And you weren’t?” Dean retorted with a huff. Y/N opened her mouth to retaliate, to call him a hypocrite but quickly clamped her jaw shut when she realised that he was right. “Hey, I have no idea what you're talking about” She denied hotly, crossing her arms across her chest. Dean barked out a laugh at her response.

“Bullshit, you were checking her out more than I was” He teased her. The two weren’t actually mad at each other, however. They were quite secure in their relationship, for it being new, you’d think there would be a lot of insecurity between them. But truth be told, Y/N would rather stick a hot poker in between her legs than be with someone other than Dean. It goes both ways.

“Fine, I’ll admit that I looked at her for longer than appropriate but you were staring like a perv” Y/N replied in fake annoyance. Part of her was still a little jealous, even if she wasn’t actually annoyed. “What can I say? It’s in my DNA” He said with a shrug and a smirk. Y/N rolled her eyes with a soft smile. “You’re an ass,” She muttered.

“Yeah but I’m your ass,” He reminded her. Sam fake gagged at them from across the table as he shook his head, earning middle fingers from both Dean and Y/N. Dean stuck up one of his fingers, his other hand resting behind Y/N’s backrest of the booth while Y/N stuck up both her fingers at the younger Winchester.

Sam simply cackled in return, picking up his hot mug of coffee. Which ended up slipping from his grasp, onto the table and began dripping onto his pants. “Oh! Oh, shit. Ah” Sam panicked, quickly pushing himself up from his side of the booth.

Only to accidentally bump into a waiter behind him, who was carrying a tray of food. The array of food scattered across the ground as the waiter fell back first, due to Sam’s ‘structured’ build. Dean and Y/N were agape at the sight. The waiter groaned as he sat upright on the floor, covered from head-to-toe in food.

Sam looked mortified as he muttered a quick and embarrassed “I’m so sorry”. He then turned to his family with a similar expression, Dean and Y/N shared a confused look. “How was that good?” Dean muttered, Sam quickly dug into his pocket. Only to come up short, now realizing they had been conned by that waitress and the rabbit’s foot was now gone.

The trio let out collective groans when they came to the same realization. “Son of a bitch” “Jesus Christ” Dean and Y/N exclaimed in unison as they all made a break for it to the door of the diner, they all frantically looked around for the black haired waitress.

When they realized she was nowhere in sight, they began running towards their vehicle. Sam then stumbled and tripped comically with a loud, “Whoa!” Resulting in Dean and Y/N freezing in their tracks. Sam grunted on the floor from his faceplant as his brother said, “Wow, you suck”

Y/N shot him a slight glare as she and Dean rushed over to help Sam up. When they got to his side, they each grabbed one of his arms and pulled him to his feet. Both his knees were cut open, the fall causing his pants to rip. “So what, now your luck turns bad?” Y/N asked as Sam painfully dusted himself off.

“I guess” He responded as Y/N wiped the dust off of his face. “I wonder how bad” Dean muttered. Sam gave his brother an unamused frown, “Please don’t say that” He winced.

_______________________________________________

Taglist: @hjgdhghoe @rach5ive @tiggytaylor @star-yawnznn @quarterhorse19

@deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @mrsjjkwinchester

@juwu-theliciosa @magiccliopleurodon @nesnejwritings @karrah89 @whattheduckisupkyle

@iloveyou2mia @thelittlelightinthedarkness @lmhf1 @littletomboy2 @zigzoggy

@hey-its-zoe @modiddys-blog @thvxr @tommysaxes @cookiemonstermusic258 @elite4cekalyma

@ladykitana90 @strawberrykiwisdogog @barnes70stark

Xoxo

#dean winchester #supernatural #sam winchester #spn #dean and sam #sam and dean #supernatural fandom #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x you

47 notes · View notes