#illinois x y/n

[lailakotori]

neat! Thanks.

fluff with maybe Snake owner reader? And dark. Or whoever you think is best!

Headcanons Snake owner!Reader | Illinois x GN!Reader

Finally I’m return to acttive this accout.

Thank you for your request while I’m burn out, It’s very help full. If anyone gonna asked that Did I open a request? The final answer is I’m always open no matter what even if i stop being writer or what you want to call.

Summary: Headcanon Snake owner!Reader meet Illinois

TW: Fluff, Stranger to Lover, Mention a lot of snakes.

Your first meet is in the forest, you camping with your baby anaconda. While you chill, some other travelers scream out loud making you uptight before you stand up and walk to that sound. You meet Illinois and his friend who see Mexican Black KingSnake. So you help and lead them to the road, Illinois flirts you how greets your help or whatever, you annoy him.

But it seems destiny wants you to bind him.

When you came back from the Holidays, You go to the snake museum and meet Illinois who talk with Dr.iplier.

“Come on, Let’s have some lunch”

“Go first, I need to meet Y/n. I want thier help”

“But I know about snake too!”

“You’re adventurer not snake caretaker”

“Ok, you’re right. But-”

“No means no, Illinois. Stop acting like a child”

When you join their chat, Illinois is surprise and happy to see you. You help Dr.iplier about make the snake clam while Illinois being such a casanova at you.

He will visit you after the adventure. Tell everything he saw or whatever he thinks it’s cool to make you impress. If he saw some snake’s eggs, He will make sure first that the mother or father will stay treat, If not he take them in bag and give them to you.

At first, He just sees you as a friend. But every time he’s near you, in his heart wants your reaction to him. Until he realize when sees you talk with Dr.iplier, you can make docter smile slightly, It’s make Illinois jelose little bit. And made him clear that’s he starts fall in love at you.

So he try hard.

He still being such a flirt but in tone serious. For other he’s playful but you? Very seriose. Look at those eyes, Listen his heartbeat, Please take his love.

Every Adventure, Illinois will calls a phone to you and ask about snakes or how to avoid them. Even if he know how to.

Illinois will buy food and drinks for you while you busy.

If you have to adventure, He will go with you no matter what.

Illinois finds out that You and Dr.iplier are best friends since college. Both of you meet in same class and talk about nerd things, that’s why Docter smile or not annoy you.

When you hurt from an accident, Illinois gonna recover and ask in soft tone about your scar. After that he’s not let’s you out the camp until you’re fine.

If your legs hurt, He carries you as royal.

He’s not a snake person but He tries to understand why you love them as a child.

He confesses his love by taking you to have some holidays and says short sentences like ‘I love you, Y/n’ or ‘I got my eyes on you’.

Then you and he become a partner, as a lover and worker same time.

He calls you ‘Mama/Dada snake’ or ‘My legacy’

you and he prefer to have a love language like Quality time and Acts of service because both of you are hard workers.

You and Illinois live the same house, He surprises that you have our own snake but also didn’t mind. To be honest he adore them like his own child.

Both of you love to have a date at camping in forest or the museum.

In my opinion, You and him don’t want to have kid or adopted. Both of you are too busy to takecare.

[jacksepticeye-simp]

Cover art for a fic I'm planning out, artwork is inspired by @mothgodofchaos

[amee-racle-ofmyown]

your hands have always held their own

Heist!Mark x reader | Words: 1,063 | read on AO3

Heist!Mark finally asks his partner in crime out on that date.

It was early evening and you and your heist partner sat nearly shoulder to shoulder in your shared living room. The sun hung low, just barely brushing its rays against the clouds, tinging their edges amber and yellow.

Recently, there had been a lot more of these calm afternoons where you would sit together, discussing everything and nothing, perhaps watching TV or whatever videos took both your fancy; sometimes you simply watched the sky until you felt sleepy. Occasionally one of his hands might come up to play idly with your hair (a more affectionate gesture than either of you had ever previously initiated, but you didn't really mind, and neither of you mentioned it).

'This next heist…’ he started, ‘it's supposed to set us up, pretty much for life. And it got me thinking—'

'That's dangerous,' you interrupted.

'Yeah, maybe for you,' he quipped back, eyebrows raised mockingly, but there was no malice in his voice.

'Anyway,' he continued, voice softening. 'I was thinking about the future and stuff. Like, what do we do after this? And as nice as it would be to be able to relax and just enjoy the rest of our lives without worrying about the next spot to rob, I think I would kind of miss doing these jobs with you.'

That got your full attention. He wasn't quite meeting your eyes — instead, a loose strand on his clothes was apparently very interesting — but something about his words and the gentle sincerity with which he'd spoken them took you a little off-guard.

‘...I hadn't really thought much about it. About what happens after.’ And it was true, you hadn't; nothing past the first few wild, exciting dreams that sprung to mind when reading the amount of money the pair of you were being offered for this particular artefact. No real, solid plans.

‘I think I'd miss it too,’ you continued quietly. ‘But I mean, who's to say we can't do a couple more every once in a while, just for the fun of it, y'know? We don't even have to go after anything that valuable. More like just… for old times’ sake.’ You caught his gaze and he smiled, a little fond and a little hopeful, dark eyes twinkling.

‘Yeah, cool… So, uhm,’ he averted his gaze again and you couldn't help but find his uncharacteristic hesitance and bashfulness adorable, wondering what was on his mind that was making him act this awkward.

‘So I was wondering, once this heist is over, if you'd maybe wanna go out sometime?’

‘Sure, is that it?’ you question, oblivious. (Or maybe not wanting to get ahead of yourself. Surely there's no way he meant it like that.)

Your crime partner’s head perked up, eyes wide and looking directly into yours, as if searching for something.

‘Really?’

‘Umm, yeah?’ you say, incredulous. ‘What's got you so nervous? And… surprised? We go out together all the time.’

‘No, buddy, you don't get it…’ he said, sat looking a little like a kicked puppy. The look of disappointment that crossed his face broke your heart and instantly made you regret your words.

His hands returned to fidgeting and oh, you wanted to take those hands in yours and ease the nerves from his palms, thread his fingers through your own, press your lips to his knuckles.

Mark sighed. One of his hands came to rest on his knee while the other carded through his hair. You found yourself wanting to do the same.

‘Listen…’ he began again, eyes downcast while his hand came to rest in his lap. ‘We've been friends for what feels like ages now, working together for even longer. I know we butt heads at times, I can be an idiot and you can get on my nerves but-’ Finally his eyes met yours, and the affection in them made your breath catch in your throat.

The sun was setting by now, casting a gorgeous orange glow through the room and over his features. It made his eyes appear almost golden, and it suddenly occurred to you that no shiny trinket you could steal could ever possibly be worth more than the look those eyes were giving you in this moment. You internally cringed at the thought, but you couldn't deny it was true.

‘You're really important to me,’ he said earnestly. ‘I don't always agree with you but I always trust your judgement. I probably trust you more than anyone else, to be honest. You're my best friend, and maybe I'm wrong, but I think there could be something else here? And I wanna try being more? If that's okay with you.’

‘You mean-’

‘Yeah.’ He took your hand, said your name, foregoing any of his nicknames for you. ‘I love you — I always have, as a friend, but I think I have feelings for you. So, if you reciprocate even a little, let me take you out. On a real date. And if things don't work out,’ (you didn't miss the small flicker of something sad as he added that part) ‘well, we can still work together. And we'll still be friends, right?’ he asked hopefully.

You could feel your heart thrumming wildly, from his words, the intensity of his gaze and the warmth radiating from his hand to yours.

You took his other hand, the one still atop his knee, and replied softly: ‘I'd really love that, actually. To go on a date with you, I mean.’

The smile he gave you was genuine, unlike the typical cocky. It was wide and crinkled the skin beneath his eyes. You briefly wondered whether he could feel your racing pulse through your intertwined hands.

‘Then it's agreed. After the heist.’

‘After the heist,’ you promised.

Inevitably, you would run into problems and possibly danger in your next heist, as you usually did, but you trusted Mark, and you knew you could count on him when push came to shove. You knew that you would follow him anywhere, and the two of you had a better chance of conquering any obstacles you faced if you were together, as you always had.

The sun dipped beneath the clouds, the room was warm, and things felt comfortably the same and yet like this was a turning point for the pair of you.

You were sure this heist would be one to remember.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

It’s Not A Big Deal

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

Tropes: Fluff, Frenemies (Dean and the Reader), Awkward Situation, Multiverse Problems.

Word Count: 3.1K (I promise I didn't mean for it to happen)

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just to be sure. There is some swearing (only a few times), Heated Kiss, Sexual Innuendo, References to Sex/Past Sex (it happens quite a bit). Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy (Everyone knows he’s a warning).

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person

Main Masterlist

A/N: Okay I know that I should be working on my other fics, but I had this idea after reading an INCREDIBLE fic by @justagirlinafandomworld called "Stranded" for @jacklesversebingo and I couldn't help myself.

Sam squeals the car into the parking lot of the motel so loud that Dean and you can hear the high pitched scream of rubber on asphalt from your room on the second level.

"If he ruins those tires he's going to pay for them." Dean grumbles under his breath from where he sits at the small wooden table under the window, wiping down his gun with a clean rag. The sunlight that came streaming through dramatized the sharp angles of his jaw and the soft sleepy strands of his hair that still stuck up from when he woke up an hour ago.

"I don't know what his hurry is." You don’t look up from the worn paperback perched in your lap, gently turning the page. "If he's that eager to get back here to tell us something he should have just called."

“Maybe there was a sample sale on hair gel.” Dean laughs at his own joke and you can sense him look up from the gun to try and catch your eye, but you don't raise your gaze from the text.

“That’s pretty brave coming from someone who owns 90% of the products in that bathroom.”

“What? I do not-“

“Really? If I walk in there right now there won’t be seven different half-used deodorant sticks?”

“They’re different smells." Dean says defensively. "And shut up. I don’t comment on how many books you bring with you. Don’t know why you need to shove a million in your bag and then just buy one while you’re here.”

“Because I might not feel like reading the ones I bring. I might want to try something new. And this book,” You wave the book in your hand for emphasis. “Is very good and I don’t have it back at the bunker, and it was only two bucks!"

“But the others ones might be good too. You don’t know.” Dean sighs, looking at you like you're insane. "You just let them sit and rot in your suitcase."

Today was the last day that you would be staying in Louis, Illinois. The current case that the three of you had been working on together had been solved, which meant that the townsfolk were no longer dealing with a zombie outbreak and you were at peace to settle down on your pull out bed with a good book, taking a few moments for yourself.

You desperately needed at least five, but you also wished that you were already back in your room at the bunker.

The bed there didn't have as many springs that stuck into your back at odd angles and didn't squeak whenever you moved an inch. Your inability to find a comfortable position meant that the mattress squeaked all night long and Dean had thrown his pillow at you to make it stop. He hadn’t been pleased when you returned it back to him. Then again, you had hit him in the face with it as hard as you could when you did.

And like hell you were going to give Dean Winchester the satisfaction of sleeping in bed with him. You’d had to do that one time on a hunt where there were no extra rooms and Dean refused to let you sleep on the floor or in his car. He said that you might make it spontaneously combust.  So you'd shared the bed and learned that he was the biggest blanket hog you’d ever met, not to mention when you woke up he was spooning you and you couldn’t be certain, but you thought he had tried to cop a feel at least once.

If anything you’d maybe sleep in Sam’s bed, but the guy was so much bigger than you he took up most of the space, so you were stuck with the pull out couch.

You couldn't wait to be home. You liked going out on cases, but you liked that you had a home now, a space that was only yours, and someplace where you could shut yourself away from the world. And most importantly, away from Dean Winchester, who had been the bane of your existence since the night you met him for the first time.

Of course this wasn't too bad either. Taking a few moments of quiet for yourself while Dean cleaned his guns and sorted some of his tools in his duffle. The two of you were getting more comfortable around one another. When you’d first met there had been a lot of screaming and several "she's not going to be there is she?" and "what the hell is she doing here?" questions that Dean moaned to Sam over and over the more the three of you teamed up.

You weren't used to working with other people, well, now you were,  but before it had just been you and the endless road. But as it began to happen more and more you tried to fit comfortably into the swing of things. Dean and you would occasionally bump heads, but it happened less now than it did before. After five years you'd hoped that the two of you could be more civilized, for Sam's sake at least.

Sam and you got along much better. You didn't understand what Dean's problem was with you, or why he hated you so much. He was always correcting you, insulting you, and snatching things away from you as if you hadn't been hunting your entire life. Occasionally it wasn't that bad, like right now, but it had been much worse a few years ago.

When you'd met Dean you'd hated him, thought he was a dick, but the more the two of you spent time together on cases the more you saw that he did those things to hide what he was feeling and the more you saw how big his heart was.

You believed that your relationship now with him had progressed to a sort of symbiotic relationship, but honestly it was more like passive aggressive roommates who fight over whose turn it is to clean the dishes.

Dean still tended to get high and mighty sometimes and annoyed you without end, but you stuck around and in Sam's words "bickered like an old couple."

Sam had gone to grab some snacks and fill the tank at the gas station down the street twenty minutes ago, leaving with a joyful "Don't kill each other."

So far there were no casualties, but apart of you itched to beam Dean in the back of the head with the paperback just for a little bit of excitement.

Sam bursts into the room out of breath. "Okay I-"

"Where's the fire Sammy?" Dean sighs looking up from his gun.

"I ran into someone when I was at the gas station." Sam says it all together, as if it's one sentence.

"And?" You move your hand in a come on gesture hoping that Sam will get to the point.

"Well he's- he's-"

The man that pushes into the room past Sam is not Dean, he looks like him, but that's not why he's so familiar. He's muscular with dark brown hair that hangs a little longer than Dean's, over the top of his ears, while a few strands fall forward on his forehead. He's allowed a dark beard to cover his cheeks, but his eyes are the same piercing green that they were the last time you saw him. And if that wasn't enough for you to recognize him, the dark green superhero suit would be a dead giveaway.

Oh shit.

"Ben?" You drop your book onto the thick carpeted floor in surprise.

Two months ago you had been unwillingly transported to another reality, a reality where superheroes were real, people had powers, and where you met a version of Dean that you actually got along with better than the Dean in your reality.

You hadn't told Sam or Dean what happened between Ben and you. You weren't about to admit out loud that you actually got along with another version of Dean or admit that you found the other version of Dean aka Ben, attractive. So attractive in fact that you had spent a good amount of the time in the other universe in bed with him before you came back to your reality.

Ben doesn't respond, instead he crosses the room in several powerful strides, and hauls you up off the pull out couch.

"What are you-"

One of his hands tangles in the back of your hair, pulling your mouth against his in a furious kiss that steals your breath away and silences whatever you were going to say next. A part of you registers that Dean and Sam are still in the room, but it's quickly swept away by how it feels to kiss Ben. You hadn't forgotten him, anything but that. Sometimes you actually kind of missed him, when you were lonely or when the Dean from your universe annoyed you too much. Because Ben annoyed you too, but at least at the end of it there was a way to relieve the tension. With Dean the only place you put all your frustration was into the hunt and there were only so many times you could bash a Djinn’s head in.

Ben's tongue brushes against your bottom lip, begging for entrance, and you let him in, bringing your hands up to the back of his neck to thread into the long strands of his hair. The strands fall between your fingertips, feathering out from your grip. You moan softly into his mouth as he deepens the kiss, feeling the familiar scratch of his beard against your cheeks, and feel his hand begin to slip down your back to rest on the curve of your ass.

Well, he certainly hasn't changed.

"Fuck I missed you sweetheart." Ben murmurs against your mouth squeezing your butt to emphasize the point. "You and this sexy fucking body."

"Ben." You roll your eyes with a snort.

"What? You didn't miss me?" He raises an eyebrow, forcing his mouth into an attractive pout. "Because you certainly seemed happy to see me a second ago." His free hand gently traces your plump lower lip with the pad of your thumb.

"I did and I am happy to see you, but what are you doing here?"

"Thought so." Ben leans his head back down towards yours, ignoring your question as he tries to kiss you again, but before he can Dean interrupts.

"What the fuck is going on?" Dean shouts, standing from the table under the window, and points his gun at Ben's unprotected back. "Who the fuck are you?"

Ben half turns over his shoulder eyes flicking from the gun to Dean with a sigh. "Look the only thing that's gonna do is piss me off. And you don't want that kid."

Dean makes a face. "Who the hell are you calling kid?"

"Now why don't you two fuck off for a few hours, let me give her a proper hello." Ben turns his dark eyes back on you, cupping your chin in his large hand.

"Y/n? You want to tell us what's happening? Or who this guy is?" Sam asks, but you can't look away from Ben.

You really had missed him. Ben was even more attractive than you remembered. The day that you'd left his universe, Ben had asked you to stay, well, had asked you in his own way. He'd said that he wasn't done with you and if you had stayed he would have made it worth your while. But you had to come back. You weren’t sure how Dean and Sam would survive without you and also because the universe that Ben inhabited was more terrifying than yours, and that was saying something, given that you dealt with demons on a daily basis.

"Guys this is Ben." You clear your throat. "Ben this is Dean and Sam."

"Ben as in Soldier Boy? From the fucked up reality with the people with superpowers Ben?" Dean sputters. He lowered the gun slightly, but he's still looking from Ben to you like he's just walked in on his parents making out.

"Yes." You say it slowly, trying to find a way out, but there really isn't any way to hide this.

It's not that big a deal, is it?

Ben releases you and turns to look at Dean, eyes skating over his body. "So that's Dean?" He tilts his head to the side. "Kinda scrawny. The way you described him made me think he'd look a little more like a man and less like a fucking pussy."

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" Dean takes a step towards Ben, holding his gun steady out from his chest. You noticed that Dean did try to puff it out more after Ben's insult.

"You heard me." Ben smirks, welcoming the challenge.

"Whoa!" You step between them. "Calm down ladies there's enough Prada to go around at this sample sale."

Ben's eyes narrow in confusion at your comment, but he doesn't back down from Dean.

"I'd say that you left a few details out of your trip!" Dean shouts looking from Ben to you in disgust. "Did you sleep with me?"

"What?" You look at him like he’s crazy.

What does he mean?

"You, and him." Dean gestures wildly with the gun. "Did you sleep with me?"

"What are you talking about? No I didn't sleep with you, I slept with him and it was only once!" You shout back.

Ben clears his throat.

"Fine. A few times.” You correct with a sigh.

“But- you- him-“ Dean’s head turns from Ben to you. “Him- you-.”

“Yeah. Me and her fucked.” Ben says it slowly like Dean is a child.

Honestly he was acting a little bit like a child.

Sam is holding back his laughter behind a hand while Dean’s eye begins to twitch aggressively.

This is exactly why I didn’t tell him. They aren’t the same person! Dean is Dean and Ben is Ben. Someone who shares the same face. And probably the same other things that I’m not going to think about right now because that seems crazy.

"How many times is a few?” Dean demands.

"Why does that matter?”

"HOW MANY?" He shouts so loud that you think the people in the next room over were probably having a wonderful time listening to this soap opera.

Because it kinda did sound like one right? The main character never gets along with someone and then gets transported to another reality through a colorful portal and immediately clicks with another version of him. And-

Maybe I need to rethink my life.

"Well..." Your face scrunched up trying to count exactly how many times that you and Ben had sex. It was difficult. Not that it was hard to remember, you knew that you weren’t going to forget it anytime soon, but just the amount of times the two of you were together was more than you could count on your fingers.

"Well what? You were there for five days!"

"I mean..." You shrug.

“Why?” Dean groans pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to scrub the images from his brain.

Honestly, if he’d told you that he had sex with another version of you, you probably would have had the same reaction, but you were not about to admit that to Dean Winchester of all people.

He’s not gonna win this argument. Especially not when he's waving his gun around like a psychopath.

“Because he's-“ You  glance over at Ben who winks at you. “I don’t know. He’s just kinda-.”

“Everything you’re not.” Ben raises his eyebrow at Dean.

“Sammy you gonna weigh in on this?” You look at Sam expectantly hoping that he can jolt Dean out of the never ending loop he seemed to be stuck in.

“Nope. I’m staying out of it.” Sam holds his hands up in surrender.

“I cannot believe you slept with me!” Dean shouts again.

“Stop saying that! I didn’t sleep with you! I slept with him. Can we please move on-“ You groan.

"Same thing!"

"What? How is it the same thing?” You plant your hands on your hips glaring at Dean.

"He's me from another universe!" Dean is gesturing wildly with his gun now. “How would you feel if I slept with an alternate version of you?”

“It’s completely different!”

“How?”

“They aren’t us!”

“He sure as hell looks like me!" Dean snaps back. "What did you close your eyes the whole time or something?"

Your cheeks flare bright red with Dean's question. "No I didn't!"

“And I don’t look like you.” Ben grunts crossing his arms over his chest and giving Dean a once over again.

“He also doesn’t act like you.” You add.

It was true, Ben didn’t. And for some reason you got along with him more. You didn’t understand what Dean’s problem was, but for the better part of five years he’d been treating you like you hadn’t been hunting your whole life. Not to mention the first three years were spent with Dean barely saying two words to you without some kind of insult attached.

“That’s beside the point!”

“How is that beside the point?” You demand.

“I can’t believe you did this!”

"I didn't kill anyone Dean. I didn't torture any babies or kill any puppies. We are consenting adults! We had sex-"

“No no no!” Dean puts his fingers in his ears. “Lalalalala.” He sings to himself to avoid the image.

"And we're gonna have it again. So the two of you should clear out, unless you're in to that kind of thing Deanie.” Ben wraps his arm around your shoulders to pull you into him, but you don’t take your eyes off of Dean.

“Fuck I’m gonna need so much therapy after this” Dean groans putting the gun down on the table. Which was a good sign because now you weren’t worried that he would accidentally shoot Sam in the foot.

“Really? After everything you’ve gone through that’s what pushes you over the edge?” You ask him in shock.

“Yes. Are you happy? You’ve driven me to the point of insanity!” Dean snaps.

"You're acting like a child."

"I am not! I am having a completely normal reaction to finding out you slept with Wannabe Captain America!” Dean gestures to all of Ben who looks at Dean like he can’t tell if it’s an insult or not. 

You take in a deep breath to calm your racing heart. “Why are you so upset that I slept with him Dean? I don’t understand how this is so earth shattering to you that two people had sex! You have sex with people all the time-“

“Not with you!”He snaps back, but then clears his throat when he realized what he just said.

“He is not YOU!” You shout rolling your eyes for the millionth time. At the rate he was going, you were sure they were going to roll out of your head. 

“As important as this conversation is… can we maybe put a pin in it and go back to why he’s here?” Sam asks diplomatically.

“No-“ Dean says at the same time you say.

“Yes! Ben why are you here?”

“Don’t really know.” He shrugs taking a long hit from a joint that seemed to materialize out of thin air, while tightening his arm over your shoulders. “All I know was that I was fighting Homelander and someone hit me from behind. Then I ended up here.” Ben’s eyes trace your body. “But I’m not complaining, especially not because I got to see you again doll.” He winks.

“Homelander?” Dean repeats. “That is the stupidest hero name I’ve ever heard in my entire life.”

“He’s anything but a hero.” You fight the shudder from the last time you ran in to him. “Think about Superman if Superman was a narcissistic sadist with a massive inferiority complex, no weakness, and an obsession with perfect hair.”

Dean looks Ben up and down with a heavy sigh. “I’m disappointed that I couldn’t have at least been a bit more like Batman.”

“Trust me. You don’t want to meet knockoff Batman from his reality either.” You respond.

"I guess I'll start doing some research." Sam says slowly, looking from Ben to you while hiding a smile.

He’s enjoying this way too much.

"Good." Dean frowns at Ben, before he claps him hard on the shoulder. You saw Dean fight the wince when he felt how solid Ben was. "Let's get you home buddy." His eyes dart from Ben to you. "Before you do anything else that'll scar me for life."

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are not required, but are always appreciated! 😊

Taglist: @roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester

[whoslai]

seventy two hours - l. heeseung 📓🧑🏻‍🎓

• ₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

↣ lee heeseung x fem!reader (both are 18)

↣ it’s the summer after high school; heeseung has been in love with his childhood friend, y/n. despite his efforts to make her see how he feels, she remains oblivious. with only three days left before they both go off to college, he must find a way to win her heart before it's too late. will he succeed, or will he have to let go of his love and move on?

↣ warnings: MDNI! making out, cunnilingus, fingering, jerking off, voyeurism, unprotected sex, overstimulation, love confessions, creampie, explicit sex, teasing, dirty talk, body marking, & more.

↣ genre: fluff, angst, smut, slice of life au

↣ wc: 4.1k

• ₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

“lee heeseung,” you called, poking your head out of your window to look down at the sweaty boy who just so happened to live next door to you. he’d been bouncing a basketball in his driveway all night and it was driving you nuts!

to your incredulity, heeseung cocked his head to look up at you, smiling from ear to ear as he saw you. “y/n.” he sighed, holding his basketball to his chest. “have you been standing there the whole time?”

“no! unlike you, i’m trying to get some sleep. it’s 2 in the morning and you’ve been bouncing that ball since 7.” you whined, leaning against the window seal as you rubbed your sleepy eyes.

“oh? so you’re keeping track of how long i’ve been out here..?” he smugly remarked, dropping the ball into his yard as he wiped sweat from his forehead. “do i interest you that much, y/n?”

“heeseung.” you glared at him, “please let me sleep.”

he smiled, “you should come out here with me. i can show you how to shoot a 3 pointer.”

shaking your head, you closed your window. you huffed as you laid back in your bed, tiredly sighing as you heard him pick his ball up and bounce it against the pavement again. another day, another night spent trying to drown out heeseung.

• ₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

your next few days were spent dorm shopping with your mother; you’d been accepted into northwestern university to study journalism on a full scholarship. you truly were excited to start a new chapter of your life and explore yourself and the environment around you.

you’d be even happier if you didn’t have a little baby whining in your ear every day about the fact that you were moving across the country. of course, living next to heeseung meant you two were very close, almost too close. it got to the point of him being immensely comfortable with complaining about how it was “odd” if you to look forward to moving away from everyone you’ve ever known.

while yes, moving from a small town in virginia to a larger city in illinois would take some time getting used to, but that didn’t mean it would justify you being fearful. what was there to be afraid of? people move all the time, it wasn’t as though you’d be the first person to leave family for college. heeseung was just being dramatic, per usual.

“you really should just stay here, i don’t see why you can’t just go to school online.” heeseung shrugged, holding his knees to his chest as he sat on your bed, watching you take down the polaroids of you and friends from your walk to pack away for your dorm.

you smiled, shaking your head at him. “heeseung, you’re acting like i’m not going to come back on breaks. it’s not my fault you chose to stay here for college.”

“you’re right, i DID choose to stay here. wanna know why?” he asked.

you propped your hand on your hip and raised your eyebrow at him. “i know you want to tell me, so just go ahead and say it.”

“because…” he trailed off, anxiously biting his lip as he began again. “because everything i’ll ever need is here, virginia is my home; our home. why would you leave all this behind when everything you need is right here?”

you shrugged, “i don’t see what’s here in virginia that i can’t find in illinois. my parents plan to travel while i’m gone so there’s not much keeping me here.”

heeseung pouted. “ouch.”

“aw.” you laughed, “you know im going to miss you when i leave. how could i forget you and that stupid basketball you keep me awake with…”

heeseung smiled a bit, but you could tell there was some sadness behind it. “maybe we could play together?”

“hmmm…” you hummed. “we could, but i’d rather do something else. why don’t we do like a sleepover and binge on a bunch of movies? pull an all nighter or something.”

“a sleepover?” heeseung asked, sitting up and licking his lips. “as in…like me sleeping over here or…you sleeping at my house?”

“either. it doesn’t matter to me.” you smiled, grabbing some tape to close the box of pictures and placed it to the side. “but, you and i both know how strict my mom is about you being over. she would make you sleep on the couch downstairs.”

he slowly nodded, “true…”

“so we should probably just go to your place, yeah?” you asked him, glancing back at him. “i’m assuming you want me in the same bed as you, so we’re better off just doing it over at yours.”

he scoffed, “what?! who says i want you to sleep in my bed?”

“me.” you smiled, tossing the box off to the side. “like helloooo, look at me. who wouldn’t want me to sleep in their bed?”

heeseung married his eyes at you. “you are so…”

“i’m kidding~” you laughed, taking a seat at your desk. “i’d only get in your bed anyway.”

“wait really?” heeseung asked you, his ears perking up. “why only mine?”

“because you’re my bestie. now, go clean your room. i’ll be over in a few hours.” you told him, spinning around to organize the papers on your desk.

he laughed a bit before kicking the back of your seat as he made his way out.

• ₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

a few hours after heeseung had left, you’d found yourself drying your hair after taking a quick shower. you slipped on some shorts and a tee whilst grabbing your bag full of sleepover essentials.

making your way over to his house, you caught sight of his bedroom light being on and reflecting a shadow; a figure all too similar to his own. squinting your eyes up at him, you began to make sense of what you were seeing.

he stood near the window, head lowered while his arm appeared to repeatedly move in a swift motion….was he jerking off?

your heart skipped a beat when his head fell back and you looked down at the ground, contemplating whether or not you could simply walk in and face him after watching his shadow through his bedroom window.

biting your lip, you slowly turned to walk back to your house, his front door opened.

“y/n!!” his mothers voice rang in your ears from behind. you quickly turned back, being met by his mother waving for you to come. “i saw you standing out here! come on in, heeseung told me you were sleeping over…?”

you nodded, walking over to her. “um yeah! that’s um…that’s the plan.”

she closed the door behind you as you stepped in and slipped your shoes off. “well, that’s cute. i’m happy to see you two spend more and more time together, especially with you leaving in a few days.” she sighed, clasping her hands together. “i’ve always adored your friendship.”

“ahhh..” you smiled, nodding your head. “yeah, just a few more days.”

she frowned, “we’re all going to miss you very much!”

“i’ll come back and visit!” you exclaimed. she smiled, patting your shoulder as she signaled for the stairs.

“heeseung is up in his room. i’m not quite sure what he’s doing but he’s expecting you so just feel free to knock. i’ve got food in the kitchen and his father is down in the basement. if you guys need anything, just let me know. okay?”

“yes ma’am, and thank you!” you nodded at her, hurrying up the stairs.

as you stood in front of his closed bedroom door, you inhaled a deep breath, nervous to step in.

after standing there for a while, you brought your hand up to the door and knocked. “hey, heeseung. it’s me.”

you waited a while, hearing him reply, “kay, one sec…”

you rested your back against the wall opposite of his door, placing your hand over your chest as your heart rate began to increase. you wondered if you truly saw what you thought you saw outside or if you were just reading the situation wrong. you wondered if he was done shooting his hot load onto the nearest surface. you wondered if his cock was still twitching in his hand as he helped himself ride out his high by teasing his tip or even continuing to stroke his shaft.

“hey,” he said as he greeted you. his hair was damp and his shirt hung low off his collar bone, exposing some of his chest.

“took you long enough.” you scoffed, brushing past him as you attempted to play it cool, not wanting him to suspect anything.

he closed the door behind you and you sat on his bed, tossing your bag on the ground as you laid back and took your phone out.

“i didn’t prepare anything.” he said, “i’ve been laying in bed since i left your house.”

you looked at him as he sat beside you, awkwardly bringing his knees to his chest. “are you sure about that?”

“sure about what? laying in bed…?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

you nodded, “surely you haven’t been in bed for the past 5 hours.”

“i mean, for the most part.” he shrugged. “what does it matter?”

“it doesn’t…i was just being nosey.” you said, looking away from him and sighing. “it’s hot in here.”

“it’s like 70 degrees…” he trailed off.

you sat up quickly, facing him. “we should play a game, you down?”

“yeah.” he said, “go for it.”

you smiled, “truth or dare?”

he rolled his eyes and leaned back against his wall. “truth.”

“is it true that you’re going to be a big cry baby and have a tantrum on my last day here?” you teased, pushing him.

“bold of you to assume i’m even going to your send off.” he scoffed.

your smile fell, “wait, you aren’t coming?”

“if i go, i’ll miss you too much while you’re gone.” he pouted.

you smiled again, “awwww…stop flirting with me.”

he shrugged, “truth or dare?”

“dare, of course.” you said. “give me the best you’ve got.”

his eyes glanced to the side, then back at you. “mmm, i dare you to tell me one of your biggest fears.”

you flared your nose. “that’s the lamest dare. that’s all you could come up with? make it fun!”

“i don’t know…um…do a handstand or something.” he shrugged once again.

you titled your head to the side, shifting your hips on his bed. “are you okay?”

“uh..why?” he asked you. it was obvious that something was off with him, anybody who knew heeseung could tell that his body language was different than his normal; he was being awkward and he wasn’t talking as much as he usually did. the fact that he wasn’t even making an effort to flirt with you in the grossest ways possible was throwing you off.

not to say you LIKED being flirted with but…come on, you kind of missed it.

“you’re being so weird.” you told him, glancing down at his shirt again.

he sighed. “i’m a bit tired, that’s all.”

you were quiet for a bit. was he tired from cumming a few minutes before? could his orgasm have been so intense that it made him groggy? reserved?

“truth or dare?” you asked him, your eyes fixated on your own. you wanted to know why he picked right before you came over to touch himself. why he’d do it right in front of his window, and most of all, why he was trying to pretend like he wasn’t just making a mess in his room before you came?

“truth.” he said.

“what are you tired from?” you asked him, intensely gazing into his eyes.

he smiled a little, “basketball practice this morning. just the usual.”

“that’s all?” you asked him once again, feeling a bit antsy from the smile that was plastered on his face.

“is there something else you’re thinking i did?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

your tongue slid over your lower lip, feeling a wave of heat fall over your head. “i…”

his eyebrow raised. “you..?”

“i saw you.” you admitted, feeling your once assertive demeanor fade into a timid one.

he bit his lip, attempting to hold back his smile from growing wider. as his eyes trailed down, he leaned his head back against the wall. “saw me doing what?” you looked away from him, reaching back to grab your phone but his hand grabbed your arm. “no, say it. don’t start something if you can’t finish it…”

“dude, i didn’t see anything. i don’t know what i’m talking about.” you told him, pulling your arm away from him and crossing your legs, hoping that he didn’t the arousal that was seeping through your gray shorts.

he stood up, walking over to his window and opening the curtains. “saw me standing here earlier, right?”

you ignored him, staring down at your phone and scrolled through your instagram. before you realized it, heeseung was standing in front of you. he slid his index finger underneath your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. “saw me hand fucking myself, yeah?”

you slowly nodded, entranced at his intense eye contact.

“ah ah ah,” he tsked in a disapproving manner. “use your words, you’re a big girl.”

“yes..” you whispered, feeling small underneath his gaze.

“there you go,” he cooed. “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“no. i just…why did you do that…right in front of your window? right before i came over?” you asked him.

“why do you think?” he asked, sighing. “isn’t it obvious?”

“no?” you replied, “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

he dropped his hand to his side. “y/n, i like you. i’ve liked you since you moved next door to me.” he admitted, breaking eye contact to look down at your phone that still rested in your hand. “i couldn’t go a whole night stuck in my room with you with a straight face. it would’ve been harder than you think.”

“you like me?” you asked him, shocked.

“you’re so oblivious, i swear..” he scoffed, walking away from you and closed his curtains. “anyway, it’s not like it matters now anyway. you’re leaving in a few days.”

you scooted forwards a bit, “w-why would you just now tell me? i had no idea, heeseung. you couldn’t have told me like…freaking years ago?!”

“i told you because i wouldn’t have to face you when you rejected me. duh.” he weakly laughed, turning away from you and shuffling through some of his clothing.

you held onto the sheets underneath you, feeling completely at a loss at his words.

“i wouldn’t reject you, heeseung.” you told him.

“yeah you would, no need to lie about it.” he shrugged. “i’ve already coke to terms with it, it’s over with.”

tears began to pool in your eyes. you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that your best friend, neighbor, childhood crush was admitting his feelings to you 72 hours before you moved across the country. “heeseung, i…”

“you don’t have to let me down lightly, y/n. it’s cool, don’t worry.” he sighed, sitting down back beside you as he rubbed his arms. “are you hungry? there’s some f-“

you cut him off with a kiss, holding his face against your own. he was stiff at first, shocked. but soon, he kissed you back and pulled you onto his lap. his hands roamed over your curves, from your waist down to your ass.

but then, he pulled away and held your wrists. “y/n, why…why are you doing this?

tears fell from your eyes as you looked ahead at him, feeling your heart sadden at him; heeseung was so perfect. he had the cutest pair of large brown eyes along with a beautiful smile and a soothing voice. how could you have been so blind before? he was all you could ask for in a guy. he never made you feel uncomfortable, he was sweet, and he went above and beyond when doing things for you. how could you leave him in 3 days?

“because i like you too, heeseung.” you told him. “please don’t push me away. please.”

he looked at you, his eyes reflecting the same sadness you’d felt. he pressed his lips back to your own, holding your chest against his as he gently mended his lips with yours.

he let go of your wrists, using his hand to lay you flat on your back and lay atop of you. your hands caressed his cheeks, melting into the feeling of him. as the kiss deepened, you felt his hands moving up from your waist to your breasts, massaging your erect areola through your shirt. you moaned into his mouth, feeling a wave of arousal wash over you. heeseung pulled away, looking into your eyes.

“do you want this?” he asked, his eyes searching for any doubt or hesitation in your expression.

you nodded, “so bad.”

with that, he leaned back down to kiss you again, this time with more passion and intensity. you felt his hands moving down to your shorts, slipping them off along with your panties. he broke the kiss to look at you, taking in your naked form beneath him.

“you’re so perfect,” he whispered, before leaning down to kiss your neck. “so beautiful, so pretty.”

you whined his name, feeling his lips and tongue working their way down your body. heeseung spent a long time exploring every inch of your skin, eliciting moans and gasps from you with every touch.

he left wet kisses down your stomach down to your thighs, laying between your legs and propping them onto his shoulders. “y/n,” he whispered, “has anyone ever…done this to you before?”

you shook your head, “no, heeseung. no one has.”

he licked his lips, sucking on your dripping outer labia, sticking his tongue inside to flick his wet muscle against your achining clit.

“oh!” you squealed, arching your back at the surge of pleasure that rolled through your pelvis. “heeseung, oh my..”

he continued to pleasure you with his mouth, soon slipping in a finger to add to your pleasure. you gripped onto the sheets underneath you as you felt his rough fingertips rubbing against your convulsing walls, feeling a knot build up in your stomach.

“oh shit, heeseung….” you cried, throwing your head back as he held onto your thighs, forcing you down harder against his mouth. “i think i’m gonna…i think i’m gonna..”

he lifted his head up, replacing his tongue with his thumb as he kissed your thighs. “cum for me, baby.”

you squeezed your eyes shut as your orgasm ripped through your body, making your hips sputter. essense dripped out of your tender pussy as you moaned, closing your thighs over his hand.

he kept rubbing his thumb over your sensitive clit, “heeseung, stop. please, please, i can’t. it hurts…please…”

he crawled back up to kiss you, running his fingers through your hair. “we can stop now, if you want.”

you held his face, caressing his cheek. “no, i..i want to go all the way.”

“have you had sex before?” he asked.

you shook your head, “i’ve only…done other stuff. never went all the way.”

he kissed you once before sitting up. “before we do this, i just want you to know that i’ve liked you for…a very, very long time. even on the days where we wouldn’t talk, all i thought about was you. i couldn’t bring myself to date anyone else throughout highschool when i would go home and see you through your window, looking as pretty as ever. my heart has always belonged to you, and i hope that even when you go off work college, you always remember that i’ll always hold tight onto the thought of you, keeping you close to my heart. forever and always.”

you felt tears welling up in your eyes at his words, knowing how much courage it must have taken for him to say them. you took his hand, squeezing it tightly.

“i will always remember, heeseung,” you said, your voice filled with emotion. “and i will always hold onto the memories we’ve made together.”

he leaned down to kiss you again, his lips conveying all the emotions he couldn’t put into words. you felt his hands moving down to pull his pants down and he tightly held your hand within his, signaling that he was going to begin.

you felt the his cock poke against your pussy, making you gasp when you felt how hot and wet his tip was.

“squeeze my hand if it hurts and i’ll stop right away. sound good, pretty girl?” he asked, looking into your eyes.

“okay, i’m ready…” you told him, glancing down at his length prodding against your entrance. slowly but surely, you felt him slowly begin to push himself into your tight hole, stirring when you subconsciously clenched at the stretch. “y/n,” he huffed half laughed, “don’t squeeze like that. you’re gonna make me cum.”

you smiled a bit, “sorry..”

he kissed you again, glancing down and applying pressure to your tummy. “just relax, let me do the work.”

you complied, biting your lip as he bottomed out inside of you, not moving. you felt stuffed, one wrong move and he would impale your cervix. but something about the whole ordeal was turning you on so much, you could cum again without him even moving.

“feel okay?” he asked.

you nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled him down to kiss you. you rolled your hips against his own, itching for some type of stimulation.

he thrusted his hips into your own, starting at a slow pace as he reached down to being your leg over his back.

you moaned with pleasure, feeling a sense of euphoria wash over you as he brought you closer to another orgasm. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you as you met his thrusts with your own.

heeseung picked up the pace, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. you moaned into his mouth, your fingers scratching at his back as you held on for dear life.

heeseung pulled back, breaking the kiss to look down. "shit, your pussy is squeezing me," he moaned. “i’m gonna cum…”

you could feel his cock twitching inside you, signaling his impending release. the mere thought of him coming inside you sent you over the edge, your own orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave.

you cried out his name, your body convulsing with pleasure as he continued to thrust into you, prolonging your orgasm. heeseung finally slowed down, his movements becoming more gentle as he rode out his own release.

with a final thrust, you felt his hot load shoot deep inside of your walls, panting the pink walls a tinge of white.

heeseung propped himself up, pulling his sensitive cock out of you and taking a deep breath.

he slipped his boxers back on and you claimed your breathing as you heard him walk away, coming back with a damp towel. you felt him wipe down your most sensitive areas and finish off with your face.

he tossed the towel to the side and helped you slip your panties back on along with your top. without a second thought, you held onto him, cuddling into the warmth of his exposed chest.

heeseung cuddled you back, laying beside you as he pulled his covers over the both of you.

“you did so well, y/n.” he whispered, planting a soft kiss against your nose. “was it okay?”

“more than okay…” you told him, closing your eyes and yawning. “thank you..for everything. for confessing to me and for making me cum twice in one night.”

he awkwardly laughed, shifting against you. “yeah…sure. are you sleepy?”

you order, “super sleepy.”

“sleep, we can talk more in the morning.”

and with that, you fell asleep. you weren’t sure what the future held for you and heeseungs relationship. all you knew was that you loved him for him. he was your friend, your first time, and now your first love. only time would tell for your relationship.

• ₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

authors note: here’s another lil fic! got bored and wanted to do a cute lil heeseung story, hope u liked it! 😊

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Playthings | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (Eventual ? ;) )

Warnings: DESCRIPTIONS OF CHILDHOOD PARENTAL ABUSE. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THIS. descriptions of parental death, canon violence, canon gore. please take care of yourselves, lovebugs. 

Word Count: 6025

A/N: look at his gorgeous face i'm gonna scream.

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

Dean definitely changed after that night with you before Sam disappeared. To be fair, you had as well. But both of you refused to talk about it. It was just subtle enough that Sam couldn’t pick up on it, but there were some lingering glances Dean stole at you and moments when your heart would swell in your chest just catching sight of him. 

Well, Sam probably would have noticed your change in behavior had it not been for the John-Winchester-level investigation he was doing into Ava’s disappearance. Papers covered every inch of your motel room in Peoria, Illinois; some of which were of Ava’s face, some of etchings of demons from the pages of library books, and some even you couldn’t quite make out. You were one-hundred percent beginning to worry about Sam’s mental state.

He’d been on the phone with Ellen for about thirty minutes now searching for more information. You sat on the floor, leaned against Dean’s bed, scribbling in your journal. Dean returned to the room carrying three coffee cups toward the end of Sam’s phone call. “What'd she have to say?”

Sam sighed. “Oh, she's got nothing. Me, I've been checking every database I can think of— federal, state, and local. No one's heard anything about Ava, she just— into thin air, you know?”

Your lips twisted to the side in confusion. He gave you a coffee cup and one to Sam.

“Ellen did have one thing,” said Sam. “A hotel in Cornwall, Connecticut. Two freak accidents in the past three weeks.”

“What’s that got to do with Ava?” you questioned.

“It’s a job,” he replied simply. “I mean, a lady drowned in the bathtub; then a few days ago a guy falls down the stairs, head turns a complete one-eighty. Which isn't exactly normal, you know? Look, I don't know, it might be nothing, but I told Ellen we'd think about checking it out.”

Dean’s eyebrows raised. “You did?”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah. You seem surprised.”

“Well yeah, it's just, you know. not the, uh, patented ‘Sam Winchester’ way, is it?” Dean joked.

Sam deadpanned at him, “What way is that?”

“I just figured after Ava there'd be, uh, you know, more angst and droopy music and staring out the rainy windows, and—”

You gave Dean a look.

He deflated. “Yeah, I’ll shut up now.”

“Look,” Sam huffed. “I'm the one who told her to go back home. Now her fiancé's dead, and some demon has taken her off to god knows where. You know? But we've been looking for a month now, and we've got nothing. So I'm not giving up on her, but I'm not going to let other people die either. We've got to save as many people as we can.”

Dean snorted. “Wow. That attitude is just way too healthy for me, and I'm officially uncomfortable now. Thank you.”

Sam ducked his head, chuckling, as did you.

“I’ll call Ellen,” you said. “I’ll tell her we'll take it.”

***

“Dean, can I pick a cassette? I’m dyin’ over here with Metallica. Love ‘em, but you haven’t changed the tape in, like, a week and a half now,” you groaned.

“(Y/N), you know the rules,” Dean warned.

“Yeah, but—”

“ ‘Sides,” he cut you off, “We’re almost there anyway. I’ll change it when we’re back on the road, deal?” 

“Deal.”

Sam looked between the two of you strangely. 

“What?” Dean questioned.

“When’s the last time you changed your music when somebody asked you to?” Sam questioned.

Dean thought for a moment. 

The younger brother shook his head. “Exactly.”

“I’m thinking,” replied Dean, scratching his head. He seemed to pick up on what Sam was suggesting and was doing his best to dodge questions. You understood; the two of you hadn’t exactly had an opportunity to discuss anything— not that you even wanted to. You were perfectly content just… “being,” as you’d written in your journal.

The car’s rumble quieted down considerably as Dean slowed in front of a victorian-style structure marked “Pierpont Inn” by the sign on the front. The air was slightly misty, blanketing the ground in a bit of a haze as your boots hit uneven gravel.

“Dude, this is sweet. I never get to work jobs like this,” Dean grinned.

“Like what?” you asked.

“Old school haunted houses, you know? Fog and secret passageways, sissy British accents— might even run into Fred and Daphne while we're inside.” He closed his eyes contentedly. “Mmm, Daphne. Love her.”

You jokingly shoved his head as if to say, “Shame on you, I’m right here.”

He chuckled at your antics. Sam turned to you strangely once more, but shook his head.

You noticed an urn on the porch next to the front door. “Hey, wait a sec,” you said, inspecting the urn more closely. You noticed a five-point symbol engraved on the urn. “I’m not so sure ‘haunted’ is the problem.”

“What do you mean?” Dean questioned. 

Sam nodded. “Good eye, (Y/N/N). That's a quincunx; that's a five-spot.”

“Five-spot,” Dean repeated. “That's used for hoodoo spellwork, isn't it?”

The brunet affirmed, “Right, yeah. You fill this thing with bloodweed and you've got a powerful charm to ward off enemies.”

“Only thing is,” you began, “I don’t see any bloodweed.”

“Yeah, anyway, don't you think this place is a little too, uh, white meat for Hoodoo?” Dean jested.

Sam shrugged. “Maybe.”

You held the door open for the brothers and followed in behind them. An auburn-haired woman briskly entered the room. “May I help you?” she asked.

“Hi, yeah, we’d like two rooms for a couple of nights,” Dean said. 

You jolted back as a young girl darted in front of your legs. You smiled at her as she ran away giggling; you couldn’t remember a time when you’d ever felt that innocent. 

“Hey!” the woman called after the girl. She gave you a weary smile. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem,” you said.

She sighed. “Well, um, congratulations, you could be some of our final guests.”

“Well, sounds vaguely ominous,” Dean stated.

You fought back a grin. 

“No, I'm sorry, I mean we're closing at the end of the month,” she said, seeming a little sad. 

“Yeah, I heard. I’m sorry about that,” you told her. “I’m into antiquing; this place came up on my radar. Figured I’d stop by before you guys shut down. I, uh, dragged these two along for the ride,” you finished, gesturing between Dean and Sam.

“Y'know, speaking of antiques,” Sam cut in, “you have a really, really interesting urn on the front porch. Where did you get that?”

“Oh, I have no idea, it's been there forever,” the woman shrugged. “So, two rooms, two kings?” 

“No, no,” Dean said hurriedly. “We’re brothers. (Y/N)’s just a friend.”

You nodded, feeling slightly upset by being called “just a friend,” but you understood why he did. Still, you wanted him to proudly show you off and claim you as his. “Two queens. And a king, please,” you said, handing her your card. 

Moments later, she handed it back to you along with a key. 

“Thanks,” you told her as she rang the bell on the desk next to her.

“You'll be staying in rooms two-thirty-seven and two-thirty-eight. Sherwin, could you show these people to their rooms?”

You turned to see a balding old man in a black blazer shuffling up behind you. You found him incredibly endearing. He grinned at you, introduced himself, and dragged your clunking duffel bag up behind him.

“I could give you a hand with that,” you suggested to him.

“I got it,” he politely insisted.

You smiled softly at him, grateful.

“So the hotel's closing up, huh?” Sam jumped in.

“Yep. Miss Susan tried to make a go of it, but the guests just don't come like they used to. Still, it's a damn shame,” he explained.

“Oh yeah?”

He went on to explain the history of the hotel; lots of weddings, politicians, and a popular spot for those passing through. He let you into your room, and you tipped him generously before telling him goodbye.

The decor of the room unsettled you quite a bit. An antique wedding dress was displayed on the wall in a weird configuration that almost made it seem like someone was actively wearing it. The room itself was clean, but everything about it made a chill crawl up your spine. You’d take a dilapidated motel room with possible bed bugs over an inn where someone definitely died on the pillow you were going to have to sleep on. 

You connected the victims from the file you put together that both victims were tied up in shutting the hotel down. However, Susan and Sherwin didn’t strike you as the type to be dabbling in spellwork. Given what she said about the urn, you thought it possible that someone who owned the hotel previously or worked here long ago was dealing in hoodoo. 

You caught sight of the little girl running around outside on the playground and heading over to one of the swings. Seeing her so happy sucked you back into your memories.

Reliving your memories always gave you an almost bird’s-eye-view of the situation; you weren’t you. You were standing in the corners of your memories, helpless to change anything and forced to watch your younger self go through those moments all over again.

Your dad was cleaning his guns on the “dining room” table of the motel you were holed up in for the week. You couldn’t have been anymore than ten at the time of this memory. Stevie was playing on the floor of the room with a truck while Scooby-Doo, his favorite cartoon, played in the background on the staticky television. 

“Dad, I want my toys back. I promise I’ll still practice, can I have them back?” you pleaded.

“No can do, kiddo. I sold ‘em,” he replied, not looking up at you. 

“What? Why?” you sniffled, beginning to well up with tears.

“Baby, my job doesn’t pay well. I needed that money to get Stevie his toys,” he sighed. “Besides, you’re better off training with me than playing.”

“But… I don’t wanna train,” you cried softly.

Your father’s head snapped up to you, and he slammed the gun he was cleaning on the table. “Too damn bad. This is important, (Y/N). You’re the big sister. I need you sharp for when mom and I are out.”

“But Dad—”

“(Y/N). Enough,” he stated menacingly.

You cowered away, wiping your nose with the back of your sweater sleeve. 

Your dad picked part of his gun up again. “And cut the crying crap. You’re too big for that.”

Your heart broke as you watched little you trying to stifle your cries. You knew if you kept crying for much longer, your father would be sure to punish you. You wanted nothing more than to hug your smaller self and tell her that it was okay to be sad, and your father was wrong. You watched Steven get up from the floor and bring you his well-loved toy airplane. He offered it up to you, and you took it, smiling through a sniffle. That gesture broke you even more. 

Your brother’s kindness truly knew no bounds. He was often the one to pick up the pieces after you’d gotten into a fight with your father or mother. As much as you tried to be the strong one for your little brother, there were just some things you couldn’t hide from him.

You were sucked into another memory from that stream of consciousness.

“Dad, I wasn’t gonna shoot with you standing in the way! I couldn’t get a clear shot!” you screamed at him. The two of you had gone after a werewolf in Arkansas, leaving your twelve-old-brother and mom back in the motel room. Your dad had insisted you needed to kill this thing yourself as one of the many tests he laid for you to prove your abilities. You were fourteen at the time.

“(Y/N), we’ve discussed this. You always. Take. The shot. No matter what,” he argued.

“What, even if it costs me somebody else’s life?” you protested.

“You should be a good-enough shot that that shouldn’t matter!” he roared. “You and I are going to the range. First thing tomorrow.”

“Dad, no,” you shook your head, backing up in fear. The last time you missed a shot on one of the moving targets, he beat you so hard when you got back to your motel room that he bruised one of your ribs.

He glared at you harshly, stepping closer to you. “What was that?”

“I— I’m sorry,” you said. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Uh-uh,” he said firmly. “You know ‘I didn’t mean to’ doesn’t mean shit. You argued with me. We’ll go to the range every day for the next week.”

You brushed the scar on the right side of your jaw from the beating that followed one of your sessions at the range that week as you came out of the memory. He punched you so hard that he split the skin deeply, and you had to stitch it up yourself. You refused to speak to your father for a month after that.

“I do this because I love you,” he’d said. “I need you to keep getting better, so I know you’ll be safe when you’re on your own. I want you to be even better than me.” 

You’d been doing well with keeping memories like that at bay while you helped Dean and Sam recover from their father’s passing. However, it was beginning to overwhelm you. The mental walls you’d built around those awful memories were beginning to crack. Leaking through those cracks was the memory of having to lay your parents to rest.

Their screams had been horrible. As fangs ripped through their gums, red rimming their eyes as the blood of the recently-decapitated vampire dripped from their lips. Your father approached you first, teeth bared. You ran through the hallways of the abandoned house, trying to find a way out. The windows of the house had been boarded, though, giving you no opportunity to escape. Cornered in a room at the back of the house, you realized what this would likely come to. You gripped the handle of your machete tightly, tears streaming down your face as your father broke into the room by destroying the door. 

“Dad, stop!” you pleaded. He approached you slowly, chest heaving as he noticed a cut on your arm that one of the vampires you’d slaughtered earlier had given you. He stalked toward you, teeth glistening in the room’s dim light.

“Dad, please! Don’t make me hurt you!”

“(Y/N), you have to—” he breathed out. “I can’t control myself—”

You shook your head furiously. “Dad, I won’t—”

“(Y/N)!” he roared. “You have to!”

Your tears flowed freely down your face.

“(Y/N)! Now!” he ordered, just as he reached you. 

Your sobs wracked your body as you sliced his head clean off. Your breath caught in your throat as you heaved, trying your hardest to gain your composure. You knew your mother wouldn’t be far behind him, and you were trying to keep yourself from breaking down and becoming vulnerable to your mother’s attack.

“(Y/N)!” she called. “Baby, please! Please, help me!”

You ran to her despite your instinct telling you not to. When you arrived, she was sobbing on the floor, shaking. You stayed a distance back from her to avoid her lunging at you.

“Baby, please— you have to—”

You shook your head. “Not you, too, Momma. Please—”

“Baby,” she sobbed. “I can’t control it. I don’t wanna be this. Please. Please!”

“Momma, I can’t—” You backed away from her. 

“I won’t be a monster,” she said. “Listen to me.” She temporarily stopped her cries and steadied herself. “You have to. Please. It’s okay.”

You took in a shaky breath.

“(Y/N), I don’t want to hurt you,” she continued. “I don’t wanna hurt Steven. Please.”

At the mention of her potentially hurting your brother, you nodded. “I’m so sorry,” you cried.

“It’s okay, my girl. It’s okay,” she said, closing her eyes in preparation for the blow.

You swung your machete forcefully to make sure her death was quick and as painless as possible. Horrified by your actions, you dropped the machete and screamed. You sank to the floor next to your mother’s body and cried, draping yourself over her bleeding, headless body.

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” you sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”

Forcing yourself back to the present moment, you took in a shuddering breath. You pressed your hand to your mouth to keep yourself from crying out as you sank to the floor. You buried your hands in your hair and pulled your knees up to your chest, allowing yourself to cry for the first time in quite a while. 

“(Y/N)?” you heard from the other side of the door.

‘Dean.’ You couldn’t respond due to the hold in your throat trying to suppress your cries.

“(Y/N), I think we got something, you in there?” he tried again.

Still, you couldn’t answer.

You heard him fiddling with the lock for a few moments before entering your room, searching for you frantically. When his eyes landed on your crumpled form, he rushed to your side. “(Y/N), hey, hey.” He held your head in his hands and swiped away tears with his thumbs. “Hey, I’m right here, sweetheart.”

You collapsed into his arms and wrapped your arms around his neck. You buried your face in his chest as you clung to him, and he held your head to him with one hand and held your waist with the other. “Shh, sweetheart, it’s okay.”

Comforted by his presence, your sobs turned to sniffles. You wiped tears away with the backs of your hands and apologized profusely for crying all over him.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “What happened?”

“Just… memories.” Your mind was still hazy.

He nodded solemnly. Neither of you needed to say anything after that. He just held your hand and sat with you against your bed while you tried to collect yourself. When you had, Dean talked again. 

“C’mon,” he said, standing. He pulled you up with him. “You want a burger? I’m starving.”

You snorted, grinning widely, and nodded. 

***

“So,” Dean began through a bite of his cheeseburger, “We think the shut-in granny might be our witch doctor.”

“What makes you say that?” you questioned, chomping a fry.

“She’s got a bunch of creepy ass dolls, Susan was really weird about us going to see her, and they’ve got a creepy ass exact replica of the hotel,” he explained.

“Dolls can be used in hoodoo spellwork,” you considered. “So, I’m guessing after dinner, you and I are lookin’ into the grandma?”

“Yahtzee.”

“What about Sam?”

“Left his ass back at the room. He’s got enough laptop research on his plate to last him enough time for us to look into the history of the hotel at the library.”

“Aw, why’d you do that to him?” you pouted, smiling a little. 

“He’s a nerd. Probably enjoys it,” he shrugged.

“You sure you’re not using this as an excuse to get me alone?” Your tone shifted to slightly more sultry, attempting to tease him.

He chuckled. “Sweetheart, I’m a professional. Just thought the two of us could cover more ground lookin’ up the records together.”

You hummed, unconvinced. “Sure.”

***

When you returned to the inn, police and EMTs were flanking the building. 

“What the fu—” you mumbled, looking around. You spotted Susan, and you and Dean hurried to her. 

“What happened?” Dean asked.

“Oh, the maid went in to turn down the sheets and he was just… hanging there,” she explained, covering her mouth with her hand.

“That's awful. He was a guest?” you asked.

“He worked for the company that bought the place.”

Dean hummed. You’d discussed your theory with him about the spellwork being used against people trying to get rid of the hotel. 

Susan shook her head. “I don't understand.”

“What?” Dean pressed.

“Had a lot of bad luck around here,” she sighed. “Look, if you'd like to check out, I'll give you a full refund.”

Dean shook his head. “No thanks. I don't scare that easy.”

When you arrived at Sam and Dean’s room, Sam had his back turned to the door and was sitting in an armchair.

Dean was all-business as he shut the door behind him. “There's been another one. Some guy just hung himself in his room.”

“Yeah. I saw,” Sam said.

You turned to him, surprised. His tone wasn’t usually that dark.

“We've gotta figure this out, and fast. What'd you find out about Granny?” Dean said, still pacing.

Sam raised his hands sarcastically, mocking his brother. “You’re the boss.”

Dean wheeled around in surprise. “What?”

“You’re bossy. And short,” Sam giggled. He actually giggled.

“Are you drunk?” you asked him.

“Yeah,” he replied, still laughing. “So? Stupid.”

You suddenly noticed the several empty bottles around the room.

“Dude, what are you thinking? We're working a case,” Dean scolded.

Sam began to tear up, staring at nothing. “That guy who hung himself. I couldn't save him.”

“What are you talking about? You didn't know, you couldn't have done anything,” Dean assured.

Sam moved his gaze to his brother. “That's an excuse, Dean. I should have found a way to save him. I should have saved Ava, too.”

Dean approached his brother. “Yeah, well, you can't save everyone. Even you said that.”

Sam slammed the table next to him. “No, Dean, you don't understand, all right? The more people I save, the more I can change!”

“Change what?” you asked.

He leaned forward toward you, a hand to his chest. “My destiny, (Y/N)!” 

“Alright. Time for bed. Come on, Sasquatch.” Dean leaned over and hauled Sam up by the shoulders. “Come on.”

“I need you to watch out for me,” mumbled Sam.

“Yeah, I always do,” Dean said simply.

Sam stopped his brother. “No! No, no, no. You have to watch out for me, all right? And if I ever... turn into something that I'm not… you have to kill me.”

“Sam—” Dean protested.

Sam shoved Dean to get him to face him. “Dean! Dad told you to do it, you have to.”

“Yeah, well, Dad's an ass,” Dean replied. “He never should have said anything. I mean, you don't do that, you don't, you don't lay that kind of crap on your kids.”

“No. He was right to say it!” Sam cried. “Who knows what I might become? Even now, everyone around me dies!”

“Yeah, well, I'm not dying, okay? And neither are you. Neither is (Y/N). Come on. Sam.” 

He pushed Dean down onto the bed, but Sam remained seated, clutching Dean’s jacket. “No, please! Promise.”

Dean shook his head. “Don't ask that of me.”

“(Y/N), please—”

“(Y/N), don’t you dare!” Dean cut his younger brother off.

“Sam, I can’t do that,” you protested.

“(Y/N), please.” Sam stared past his brother at you with sad eyes. “You have to promise me.”

You looked between Sam and Dean. Dean cut his eyes at you harshly. However, you knew Dean could never kill his brother if it really came down to it. You weren’t sure you would, either, but you would rather Dean not have another dead family member to blame himself for.

“I promise,” you mumbled.

“Thanks,” Sam grinned. He extended a hand to you. You grabbed it and squeezed. “Thank you. You are—”

“Alright. Come on,” Dean grumbled. He shoved Sam back on the bed. Sam hugged his pillow and snuggled into it. You stared at him sadly, afraid to meet Dean’s gaze.

You turned and left the room, Dean hot on your heels as you unlocked your door.

“How dare you,” he growled. “What the fuck, (Y/N)?! I’m not gonna let you kill my brother!”

“And I’m not gonna do it, either!” you argued, shutting the door behind him. “But I couldn’t let you promise that. I won’t let you.”

“And why not?!” He roared.

“Because I’m not gonna let you have another death to blame yourself for! You’re falling apart, Dean,” you pointed out. “No matter what I say, you’re always gonna blame yourself for John. I’m sure, in some ways, you blame yourself for your mom. Sam is your world. Trust me, I know how that feels. I won’t let you be the one responsible for his death.” You held your ground as he stepped closer to you. 

“You don’t get to make that call for me, (Y/N)!” he yelled. “I don’t care what happens, you’re not fucking killing Sam.”

“Dean, you think I wanna kill him? Fuck no! He’s family to me,” you retaliated. “You know I wouldn’t do that to him. But I also saw your face. You were gonna promise him, weren’t you?”

He didn’t answer, looking away from you.

“Exactly. I’d rather you blame me than yourself,” you said, voice quieting considerably.

Dean’s turned-away face was set in hard lines, but he seemed to have nothing else to say.

You stepped in front of him and held up your pinky. “I promise you, I won’t make a move on Sam unless it’s absolutely last resort. I promise I’m gonna do everything I can to try and save him, first. And even then, I won’t do anything until you give the okay.”

Dean considered for a moment, and you could see his brain flooding with conflicting thoughts. Finally and wordlessly, he linked your pinky with his.

“My parents begged me to kill them,” you said after a moment. “I didn’t want to. Everything in me screamed at me not to. But I realized they didn’t wanna become something that wasn’t, y’know, them. I can imagine Sam’s in the same spot. Except… he knows it’s coming. He wants to know that if it does happen, we’ll take care of him.”

Dean still didn't say a word to you for another few moments. “I’m gonna get a drink,” he said finally.

“Okay. G’night, Dean.”

***

The next morning, you were afraid to talk to Dean or Sam. You didn’t want Sam to remember the promise you made to him, and you didn’t want Dean to be upset with you because you were trying to protect him and his heart. You didn’t want him to have to cope with the guilt you felt every single day, clawing at your heartstrings and pounding against your memories. 

Knuckles rapped against the door of your room. Having been dressed since three that morning, you opened the door expecting Sherwin or Susan. Instead, it was Sam.

“Oh, hey!” you said cheerfully.

“Hey,” he grimaced.

“Hungover?”

He nodded. “Look, uh, we’re gonna go talk to Rose. You should come with.”

“Sure,” you said. You couldn’t quite gauge if Sam remembered what you, he, and Dean had talked about the night before.

Dean picked the lock to the private quarters after ensuring the room was clear. You headed up a winding staircase to see an old woman, possibly in her nineties, sitting in a wheelchair. She was trembling unceasingly, and you started connecting the dots as to what was going on here.

“Guys… she’s had a stroke,” you explained gently as the two of them were trying to soothe her tremors.

Dean turned and spoke to you for the first time that morning. “Yeah, but Hoodoo's hands-on; I mean, you've got to mix herbs, chant, and build an altar.”

“Yeah. So it can't be Rose,” Sam added. “Hey, maybe it's not even Hoodoo.”

“Or she could be faking,” Dean suggested.

You scoffed. “Yeah, what are you gonna do, poke her with a stick?”

Dean frowned, nodding.

“Dude! You’re not gonna poke her with a stick!” you hissed.

“What the hell?!” came Susan’s voice from behind you. “What are you doing in here?”

You and the brothers babbled, searching for an explanation.

Susan rushed over to her mother. “Look at her, she is scared out of her wits. I want you out of my hotel in two minutes or I'm calling the cops.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you nodded, leaving without hesitation.

***

When you got in the car, Dean pulled just down the road from the hotel to watch the entrance and exits for anything suspicious and searching for an opportunity to go back inside.

You and Dean still hadn’t spoken to each other. It was odd; usually you were talking to each other at a mile a minute. However, to your shock, Dean took out the Metallica cassette tape he promised he’d change and replaced it with your favorite Alice in Chains cassette; “Facelift.” You took it as a sign of goodwill and smiled to yourself.

About an hour or two passed before you saw Susan exiting the hotel and packing boxes into her car. You and the brothers ducked down when you noticed Sherwin driving in your direction. When your heads popped back up, Susan was walking over to the playground at the sight of a swing moving back and forth on its own. Without needing to say anything, you and the boys hopped out of the car and sprinted into the woods to get closer to the situation and help Susan, should anything happen. 

The see-saw moved up and down next, then the rest of the playset. Suddenly, her red car’s engine revved. Sam knew what was going to happen and ran at Susan to tackle her out of the way of the charging vehicle. 

“Are you okay?” he asked her while he pulled her up from the ground.

“I think so,” she replied breathlessly.

“C’mon, let’s get inside, let’s go,” Dean ordered.

Sam helped Susan into the inn and over to the bar.

“Whiskey,” Susan demanded when she sat down.

You headed behind the bar and slid it over to her.

“What the hell happened out there?” she asked.

“You want the truth?” Dean chimed in. 

She nodded.

“Well, at first, we thought it was some sort of Hoodoo curse,” the older brother began, “but that out there? That was definitely a spirit.”

Susan scoffed. “You're insane.”

“Probably,” you shrugged.

“Look, I'm sorry, Susan. We don't exactly have time to ease you into this, but we need to know when your mother had the stroke,” Sam urged.

She looked at him strangely. “What does that have to do with any—”

“Just answer the question.”

“About a month ago.”

You licked your teeth. “Right before the killings started.” 

Sam looked to you and Dean. “See? So what if Rose was working Hoodoo, but not to hurt anyone. To protect them.”

“She was using the five spot urns to ward off the spirit,” Dean noted.

“Right, until she had a stroke, and she couldn't anymore,” the brunet finished.

Susan laughed humorlessly. “I don't believe this.”

“Listen, sister,” Dean grunted, “that car didn't try to run you down by itself, okay? I mean, I guess it did, technically, but, but the spirit can— forget it.”

Sam interrupted his brother’s quickly derailing train of thought. “Look, believe what you want. But the fact is you and your family are in danger, all right? So you need to clear everybody out of here: your employees, your mother, your daughters, everyone.”

“Um, I only have one daughter,” Susan replied.

“One?” Sam questioned. “I thought Tyler had a sister named Maggie.”

“Maggie's imaginary,” she said simply.

‘Fuck,’ you thought. “Where’s Tyler?” you asked, trying to keep your cool.

“Uh, maybe in the playroom,” Susan suggested, sounding frantic. “Tyler!” she called as she burst through its door. 

You were horrified to see the floor littered with broken porcelain dolls, and Susan’s panic became worse. “Oh, my god. Tyler. Tyler!”

“Susan, tell us what you know about Maggie,” Sam demanded.

She tried to steady herself. “Uh, not much. Um, Tyler's been talking about her since Mom got sick.”

“Okay, did you ever know anyone by that name?”

She shook her head.

“No dead relatives?” you chimed in. “Maybe somebody who used to work or live here?”

“Oh, my god,” she realized. “My mom. My mom had a sister named Maggie. She died when she was little.”

“Uh-huh,” you encouraged. “Where?”

“She drowned in the pool!”

***

You and the Winchesters raced to the poolhouse with Susan in tow. You could see Tyler standing on the opposite side of the balcony, leaning forward.

“Tyler!” her mother screamed.

You ran to the other side after spotting a glass window across the way. You took the butt of your gun that was tucked into your jeans and smashed the glass with it. Your breath caught at the sight of Tyler falling into the pool below, screaming. 

Finally, you managed to get the glass broken enough to get through. You dove over the balcony’s railing headfirst toward the little girl wrapped in the plastic tarp from her struggling. You turned on your back and kicked with all your might over to the side of the pool, holding the unconscious girl in your arms. You gently laid her on the pool’s edge, listening for a pulse. Thankfully, it was there, and all you could do was wait to see if she woke up.

Moments later, Tyler sputtered, choking on water, and she woke up.

“Thank god!” Susan cried, pulling her daughter into her lap. “Thank god, thank god.”

Soaking wet, you crawled out of the pool. “Tyler, do you see Maggie anywhere?”

The girl shook her head. “No, she's gone.” She buried her face in her mother’s neck, hugging her tightly. Your heart broke a little at the sight.

You rung your hair out and followed behind Sam and Dean as they discussed Maggie’s potential whereabouts, heading back up to the hotel.

Susan held Tyler close as they climbed the stairs to get the eldest woman in their family and leave the hotel.

Cold and shaking from the pool mixed with the slight chill in the air, your teeth began to chatter. Wordlessly, Dean took his leather jacket off and wrapped it around your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you smiled sheepishly.

Suddenly, Susan screamed loudly. You and the boys ran up the stairs to see Rose slumped over in her wheelchair, dead.

***

Paramedics swarmed about as Sam attempted to comfort Susan and send them off. You were slightly drier, now, having changed into a different set of clothes. Still, you kept Dean’s much larger jacket wrapped around your body. The man in question leaned against the Impala next to you.

“Are… are we okay?” you asked suddenly.

He turned to you, arms crossed. “I don’t know, are we?”

You grimaced. “I just, after last night, I just wanted to make sure that—”

“Yeah, (Y/N), we’re fine. But I don’t wanna keep bringing it up.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

A moment of tense silence passed. Then, he draped his arm around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “Promise. We’re fine.”

You stuck out your pinky. He chuckled and linked yours with his.

Sam approached you and Dean, still seeming confused by the two of you. He shook his head, though, deciding against asking. 

“Feels good getting back in the saddle, doesn't it?” Dean smirked at his brother.

“Yeah, it does,” Sam nodded. “But it doesn't change what we talked about last night, Dean.” 

“We talked about a lot of things last night.” Dean’s voice had a warning edge to it.

“You know what I mean.”

“You were wasted.”

“But she wasn’t. And she promised,” Sam said.

You looked up at him. “Sam—”

“You promised, (Y/N).”

You had nothing to say to that. “But I am gonna try everything in my power not to have to do that,” you added. 

Sam nodded solemnly. The three of you got in the car without speaking to each other and cruised down the road as Alice in Chains played in the background. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[kjhbsies]

Waiting Room

Ellie Williams x fem!reader (wc: 1,156)

Synopsis: Ellie Williams married you, but her heart is occupied with someone else.

Warnings: angst??? arranged marriage trope bc i like to suffer. this is my first time to write a story, please don't mind the incorrect grammars.

pt. II pt. III

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You should be celebrating. 

Finally, the girl you’ve wanted ever since you were 16 years old married you. Of all people, you really thought you would never get the chance to be with her. After all, everyone used to say that Ellie and Dina were good together, and that they were each other’s soulmate. You can’t really disagree about that. You can see how both of them loved each other, and even if they broke up, you can feel that they cared for each other deeply.

So… why did she marry you?

Ellie and Dina broke up one year ago after a huge fight between them happened. Up until now, no one knows about it. Rumors say that Dina wanted to settle down, far away in Jackson, to start a new life with her and JJ. But Ellie couldn’t leave this town, especially her family, and Joel. Apparently, this caused them to break up eventually. Shortly after the breakup, Dina and JJ went and lived in a small town in Illinois. For months, Ellie tried to remain strong, seemingly fine and unfazed about the breakup with Dina. She went on to continue her life as if nothing really happened. For months, Ellie went on to continue the routine of drowning herself with alcohol, going home with a lot of girls, and throwing them away like trash. That was her life. And you just watched it from far away and you tried to avoid her like a plague. You liked her, but you don’t want to be her sex toy. 

Until Dina came back.

After a year, Dina and JJ moved in with their old house in Jackson when her older sister, Talia, got sick. Since both of their parents died before, no one is there to take care of her. So she came back, and Ellie’s life became worse. 

Her failure of coping healthily about their breakup started to show up when her mood became the worst. Ellie became a ball of rage, bursting into anger even in the smallest little thing. 

“You should take a vacation somewhere else. Breathe fresh air, enjoy other things, just don’t…” Joel tightly shut his eyes, “...don’t turn into a fucking monster, Ellie.”

Ellie lifted her brows before chuckling sarcastically. “So that’s what you think about me now, huh?”

“Everyone does. They’re scared of you. Do you want JJ to also be afraid when he sees you?” Joel’s voice started rising.

Ellie looked at him pointedly. “Don’t bring him into this.”

Joel sighed. “I know you were still a mess, Ellie-”

“I’m not.”

“-But you can’t keep living like this.” He says, eyes softening at her. “Forget Dina and marry someone else.”

Ellie’s brows turned into a straight line. “Are you insane? The fuck?” She coughed out a ridiculous laugh. 

“You should think about it. Y/N’s family is offering up a fortune if you marry their daughter. You knew her, right? Y/N?”

“Yeah… but-”

“Good. We can arrange a family dinner tonight.”

“Are you for real?” 

“It’ll be great. Her dad and I were pretty close and he always brings up that his daughter may have a little crush on you. Apparently, it’s in her grandmother’s will that she will not inherit the money, or have her farms and businesses if she’s single. She needs to be married in order to have those. Her dad offered that you will share a huge amount of money if you married her. Ellie, she’s a pretty young lady. And both of you need each other.”

“Little crush?” Ellie repeated, her ears perking up at those words. 

“Think about it, kid. You’ll like her, she’s a great girl.”

And yes, you are. 

Ellie thought about it for a week. Sure, she heard some great things with you. You're a prissy prim princess and the daughter of one of the richest families in the town. She’s always seen you hanging around the diner sometimes, wearing your dainty skirts and dresses, with bows clipped in your hair. She’s seen you in different spots of Jackson, immersed in your sketchbook, or oftentimes, you’re painting different portraits and landscapes. Ellie was always fascinated by you, because you and her are… contrasting.

The first time you and your family went into their house for dinner, Ellie couldn’t keep her eyes away from you. You noticed it, and it somehow made you uncomfortable. So, the whole night while your parents and her dad were talking about the future wedding, you were just looking at your plate. Sometimes looking up when one of them says something funny, cracking up a small smile or letting out a silent chuckle. But you couldn’t look at Ellie.

Ellie noticed it. The whole night you weren’t even sparing a glance at her and it made her curious as to why you seem to avoid her. Did you know about her history of girls? Did you see her at the diner, drinking her ass off? Why aren’t you looking at her?

When the dinner was done, Joel and your dad stood up and went to the living room to talk further about the said wedding. Your mom politely excused herself as she went to the bathroom to have a quick touch up. And you and Ellie were alone in the dining room.

The one time you looked up at her, Ellie was mesmerized. But of course, she wouldn’t show it, nor would she accept it. You were pretty. Everyone was right. You are pretty like a precious flower; your eyes were soft and gentle as you stared at her. You are a precious gem. And Ellie is a master of destruction.

She couldn’t touch you. She’s afraid that you’ll break. And maybe you might. 

“I’m sorry.” You said, kindly, as you looked straight in her eyes.

Ellie’s brows rose. “Why? You didn’t do anything.” She said, voice raspy.

Your heart beat doubled. “You didn’t have to agree to this wedding, you know. My dad proposed this crazy scheme to Mr. Joel and I feel like it’s all my fault.” You sighed.

“I will marry you.” Ellie says, determined. “Just… don’t expect that I’ll love you. We have to agree that you won’t fall in love with me, and I’ll assure you that I won’t bother you. You will get your grandmother’s money and land, and I will share your money. Both of us need the same thing and I don’t want you to think that there’s a single hope that I will love you eventually. Is that okay?” She asked.

You should be celebrating. 

Finally, the girl you’ve wanted ever since you were 16 years old married you.

But her heart is with someone else. 

“Okay.” You agreed, while staring at the small picture frame at the corner of the dining room.

It was Ellie and Dina kissing each other.

[myownwholewildworld]

11. NO MATTER WHAT?

chapter 10 | main masterlist | ao3 | series masterlist | chapter 12 pairing: post-outbreak!joel x f!reader. summary: in your pursuit to find tommy, you find out something else. a/n: hello there! c: eeeeeek we are getting close to the endgame here! i finally sat down and wrote down small summaries for the next chapters so i could have a better idea of how many there were actually left - a total of 15 plus an epilogue. so this story will be drawing to a close soonish but in the meantime, please enjoy this rollercoaster :D all interactions welcome, i'd like to read your thoughts on this! take care <3 x warnings below the cut! please beware, they contain MAJOR spoilers so read them at your own peril. don't come at me please. dividers by @saradika-graphics w/c: ~7.8k. taglist aka the drama wagon at the end of the chapter (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!)

warnings: 18+, mdni. some smutty smut. masturbation (m and f receiving). unprotected piv. sprinkles of anxiety, anguish and angst here and there. unplanned pregnancy. tempers run a bit high. sarah is in joel's mind. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 37. no use of y/n.  joel’s and reader’s pov.

“How are you feeling?”

Joel’s voice brought you back to reality, along with a slam of the driver’s door. Your mind had been drifting away, almost falling into a slumber, for the past thirty minutes. You had not even realised that the car had stopped until Joel closed the door behind him.

Your elbow was propped against the window frame, your face buried in the crook of it. Slowly you blinked with a pitiful groan, straightening out your crouched back. For the past month, sleep had been evading you. Funny that, considering how fucking tired you were. And the more tired you were, the more difficult it was to fall asleep. Your bones ached, your joints hurt, your mind was fuzzy ― you felt terrible overall. Many mornings you felt sick too, which did not help. On a few occasions you had woken Joel up with your retching ― and every time, he stayed awake with you, not even once did he complain.

The dreadful pain would vanish gradually over the course of the day and would worsen at night again. The clicker’s bite on your forearm had almost healed, but there were some tiny parts of it that were still open and oozed from time to time ― it didn’t matter how hard you both tried to keep it clean. Fits of itchiness would overcome you and Joel had to pin your wrists against his chest so you would not make the gash worse.

The first week after you were marked, you had actually been doing alright. The thrill of the moment and the adrenaline rushing through your veins as you crossed Illinois were, most probably, what had kept you standing on your feet.

And now that the imminent feeling of death had faded, Chicago well behind you, your body was begging you for a fucking break. But there were no breaks in the apocalypse.

“Darlin’?”, Joel placed his hand on your left thigh.

“Tired.” You sighed heavily as you rubbed your eyes with the heels of your hands. “I can’t sleep.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He lightly squeezed your thigh between his fingers, and you finally looked at him, a weak smile smoothing out your lips. “We’ll find a proper place to stay tonight.”

“Where are we?”, you asked, looking through the passenger’s window.

You had stopped in the middle of a road. A sea of green surrounded you ― a dense wood of pine and oak englobed the asphalt. And then, further afield on your left, you could see blue and sandy brown in between the trees. There was a mist coming off the water and blurring the atmosphere, giving the whole scene a mystic, eerie feeling.

“Lake Ontario, just circumvented Buffalo. I saw the gas station and thought to give it a go”, he explained, pointing with his thumb through the driver’s window.

Then you saw the service station he was referring to.

“Any luck?” You hovered your hand over his on your thigh and intertwined your fingers. His warmth was comforting in the bare coldness of January.

“Surprisingly yes. I was able to siphon out around four gallons from one of them pumps. I’ve just put it all in our tank. Should be more than enough to get to Oswego, even with detours.” Even though Joel’s voice was calm, you could tell he was preoccupied.

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, his eyes meeting yours. He was doing so much for you, and basically all on his own. He drove you out of Chicago while the whole city got swamped by hordes of clickers. For the first week after that day, you both took turns to drive and keep watch at night, but when your body finally gave in, you completely relied on him.

He hadn’t told you out loud, but you could see the worry darkening his chocolate eyes with greyish circles underneath. You knew he was concerned about your health, about the car and gas, about the food, about the safety of being back in the wilderness. Joel was taking good care of you ― you had been so blinded by your own battles that you had not even expressed your gratitude.

“I’m sorry I’m not much help. Thank you for―”

“Don’t even mention it.” He cut you off instantly, pulling from your laced hands so your cheek would land on his chest. “You’re sick, honey. It’s the least I can do.”

Joel’s balmy lips pressed against your forehead. You closed your eyes, letting his warmth seep into your cold bones, softening your taut muscles. You looked up at him with your mouth agape and Joel bowed down to brush your lips with his ― a chaste kiss in a rare moment of peace and quiet.

“I’ll drive to Pembroke and find a house ― we’ll spend the night there and resume the trip in the late morning or early afternoon, depending on how you’re feeling. Sounds good?”

You nodded, burrowing your cheek in his padded jacket. You both stayed still for a couple more minutes before Joel, with a heavy sigh, pulled back to introduce the key in the ignition and start the car.

For the last three weeks, you both had been reassessing your options. Chicago had been an idyllic dream for a short while, but congregating so many people in a small space seemed to have been a siren’s call for the clickers. After much debating, Joel and you had decided to stay away from civilisation.

It had also taken you as long to convince Joel to find Tommy. It was more than obvious that the brothers were not on good terms, considering how the younger one had threatened to kill you the moment he found out you had been bit. You couldn’t blame him for it, as you were sure you would have reacted the same way.

But Joel was not so inclined to forgive his brother. Tommy had made him choose between you and him, told him to get rid of you, even when he had tried to tell the younger Miller what his true feelings for you were. And despite it all, Tommy had ditched you both. But especially Joel, when he needed family the most ― when the dire situation required Tommy to step up, he had stepped down. With that you did not agree, obviously, although you could somewhat understand Tommy’s actions.

After long, dragging talks, Joel had agreed to look for Tommy. The group he was with was not the most convenient if their behaviour in Chicago was to be taken into account. The drugs, the alcohol, the late nights ― they could not afford such way of life out there, not without the safety net of a whole town. Tommy was the only family Joel, and by extension you, had left ― despite it all, family protected family.

Somewhere in Lake Ontario was the safest bet to find him. Laney would listen to Tommy, and if Joel was right, he would pick the same town the older Miller would: Oswego, especially in winter. That was where the Miller brothers and their father would go ice fishing on their weekend trips, so both of them were acquainted with the land.

The purring sound of the engine smothered your thoughts until that was all you could hear. Your eyelids felt heavy, dry even, so you unknowingly let them close with a deep sigh before you were lost to your dreams.

“Darlin’,” Joel stroked your hair, his fingers curling on your chin. “We’re here.”

Slowly you blinked, coming out of your sleepy stupor. Joel was standing outside the passenger’s door, the cold breeze bursting into the cabin. You had dozed off so hard, you had not even heard him leaving the car and opening your door.

“Can you walk? I can carry you.” He asked, no shade of doubt in his words.

Imagining Joel carrying you through a doorframe as if you were newlyweds made you smile. Maybe in a different lifetime or in a parallel universe could you have that destiny. Not in this one, sadly.

“I’m fine walking.”

Joel’s eyes met yours, a slight tilt to his head indicating he did not get why you were smiling. You waved your hand as if to say, “don’t worry about it”, and tried to step out of the car, but his frame was blocking your exit.

You cocked an inquisitive brow.

“What? You don’t think I can?” The challenge in his voice was there, ready for you to pick on it.

You laughed it off as you stirred in your seat, your legs dangling off the car seat now in between his legs. Joel didn’t budge one inch.

“I know you can. You’ve proved it a few times now.” You hoped that would ease him.

Joel grunted and you knew he was considering proving it to you once more. But you didn’t give him the chance to do so, standing up so close to him your body slammed into his. A strong arm wrapped around your waist to prevent you from falling back on to the car seat.

His welcoming mouth was so near hovering over yours, your mind just went poof for a second. Joel’s imposing presence always clouded your judgment, especially when he was this close to you. He made all your neuron synapses go haywire, even more when you were tired and achy.

“And you won’t let me show you again, I take it?” He whispered, his lips intently moving against yours with every word, your lungs taking in his sweet breath as if his oxygen was the only one that could truly feed them.

You were barely able to shake your head no. And then some neurons finally connected, allowing you to place a hand on his hard chest to push him back a bit with a sufficient grin.

“You won’t bewitch me so easily, Miller.”

He cackled, taking a step back and shaking his head with disbelief.

“You hurt my feelings, darlin’.” He faked some puppy eyes that made you swoon a little, but didn’t give in.

“I sure do…” You muttered, the shared joke letting you forget your fatigue.

Getting out of the car, the piercing January breeze knifed your skin. You were not accustomed to the northern cold ― Texas had treated you well with fairly mild winters but scorching hot summers. There had been instances where the Texan weather reached freezing temperatures, but it was not as common as up here.

You walked around the Jeep with Joel by your side, his arm draped around your shoulders to keep you close to his body heat. He had parked the car in between some tall, thick, evergreen bushes, tucked away out of sight. He then pointed to a house ― single storey, with a washed green façade and a tiny porch with a white door.

A couple of minutes later, you were inside. It was still cold, but not as bad as it was out there. The living room was small and outdated with clashing hues of brown, red and orange. The curtains were drawn, and it smelt a bit musky, layers of dust sitting atop the furniture. You were not expecting a five-star hotel, so this place would definitely do. It was isolated and off the main roads, so there would be less chances of running into some undesirable situations. Or people ― especially people.

You braced yourself to keep your core temperature as high as possible, and Joel noticed it.

“There’s a chimney but can’t get a fire going. It would give us away.” You could hear the unspoken apology in his tone. “But I’ve left a pile of blankets there.”

Joel pointed to the old-fashioned, floral-stamped couch that reminded you of one in your grandparents’ house. The quilts were bunched together, and all of your packed belongings were sitting on the floor ― you guessed Joel had taken everything out of the car while you had a little power nap.

As you approached and ran your fingers through the fleece to test the softness of the fabric, Joel grabbed one and wrapped you in it like a burrito.

“Do you have your gun?” He asked, lifting your chin up.

You nodded ― you always had it fastened to your belt. Since Chicago, you made sure you were armed at all times.

“Good. I need you to stay here while I go have a snoop around town.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You squinted your eyes with dissent, and then took off the blanket that he had covered you with to leave it on the couch.

“Not gonna happen, gorgeous. I’m coming with you.” Not because you were afraid of being left alone, but because you did not trust this world you lived in. If something was about to happen while he was out and about, you wanted to be right by his side.

He rolled his eyes at you but knew better than fighting you on this.

“So stubborn, aren’t you?”

“You wouldn’t love me any other way.” You replied with a beaming smile, lacing a hand with his and pulling him towards the door.

Joel snorted, a warm tautness nipping at the corner of his mouth.

“That’s true.”

“Chef Boyardee’s Beefaroni?” You read the label of a tin can out loud, brows pinching with amusement. “I thought they had gone out of business ages ago.”

“What? Of course not.” You could tell he was offended by the tone of his voice.

You smirked when he trotted towards you and snatched the can off your hand.

“It’s one of the best brands out there for canned food.” He lectured you, sliding the can in his backpack.

“I prefer anything from Campbell’s a thousand times over.” You jested as your hands travelled through the almost empty shelves, finding a sample of that same brand. “Their canned spaghetti is unbeatable.” You pinched your fingers together and smacked your lips, as if you were an Italian chef blowing a kiss.

“Do not start this feud between us, sweetheart. I can forgive many things, but not this senseless provocation.” His words were imbued with harshness, but his lips were softened by a crooked smile.

You giggled, putting away the can in your backpack, and proceeded to wander off further in the grocery store until you reached the pharmacy section. Medical supplies were really hard to come by and with an open wound like yours, they were very much needed. So, you rummaged through the shelves ― you would take anything you could find.

After a few minutes, you had located some sterile wound dressings, a couple of roller bandages, cleansing wipes and a small bottle of rubbing alcohol. You had also found one pack of expired painkillers ― you could not get too picky with expiry dates on the apocalypse.

You knelt down to put everything away in your rucksack when something caught your attention. There was a single pack of sanitary pads sitting at the back of the bottom shelf. Feminine hygiene products were so hard to come by, you seized it in the blink of an eye.

In doing so, you hit another cardboard box out of the way. Curious, you grabbed it and turned it around in your hands. The white letters against the blue background read, “Clearblue Easy digital pregnancy test.” You had seen the TV ads before the world went to shit, but didn’t pay them too much attention. Apparently, it was a new technology with a digital screen that would show the words “Pregnant” or “Not pregnant”. Fancy stuff, really. You kept on reading the small text on the package, mindlessly interested.

Your period should have come a few days ago. But ever since your teen years, it was never regular, making it very hard to predict ― so it didn’t worry you too much. In fact, it was completely normal for you, so you put the box back down on the shelf.

Wait. What day is it? You suddenly thought, trying to recall an image of a calendar in your head. With your fingers curled in a fist, you lifted one at a time while you did the mental calculations.

Then it hit you. Your period was not just a few days late, but two weeks. The latest it had ever been was five days, so fourteen ―fuck, fifteen!― days were definitely not normal for your cycle. Your hands began shaking as you started counting again ― maybe you had forgotten how to do basic maths mentally?

Your heart was pounding so hard and fast, a rush of blood heavily pumping through your eardrums, you almost missed Joel’s call.

“Hey, sweetheart. Where are ya?” His booted steps were fast approaching.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. HOLY SHIT. FUCK.

Panic boiled inside you as you wildly looked around ― Joel’s shoes were on the other side of the shelves.

Just in the nick of time, you shoved the pregnancy test box down in your bag, hiding it between all the other bits you had collected, just as Joel turned the corner into the corridor you were at.

You tried your best to feign normalcy as Joel inched forward towards you and extended a hand to help you get up. You accepted it and stood up, trying to hide your eyes away from him by pretending to secure your backpack.

“Did you find anything useful?” He innocently asked, and you almost choked with the bare air that filled up the room.

“Y-yeah,” you tried your best not to stutter, but your nerves had a tight grip on your vocal cords, “some first aid stuff for my wound.”

Why were you omitting your most important finding? Joel should be aware; you should tell him about what was plaguing you right now.

But you didn’t. Don’t want to worry him unnecessarily if it’s just a false alarm, you told yourself.

Joel cocked his head, and you were sure he had perceived your nervousness, but he didn’t press the matter, for which you were grateful.

“Let’s go back then. Found some more food and hygiene stuff ― a couple of toothbrushes, ain’t it exciting?” He grinned and you made your best effort to return the gesture.

“You do know how to make someone’s day.” You joked back, but your feeble attempt at normality ate at his conscience.

It was well past midnight and Joel felt you stirring in his arms. The couch was not too big, so any small movement would startle him awake. Not that he was really sleeping anyway, too worried about the threats out there that could ruin the fragile peace of the night.

Your elbow sank in his ribs, and he swallowed a painful grunt.

“Sorry, Joel. I just can’t find the posture to fall asleep. I can go to the other couch if you―”

“Nonsense.” He interrupted you before you could suggest sleeping apart.

Maybe the couch was not the best option, but the bedroom was far too exposed to the main road for his liking. The living room, on the other hand, was facing towards the back of the property and was close to the door that led to the backyard, where the Jeep was hidden. So you both had to make do with the uncomfortable sofa.

He liked having you splayed out on top of him, your cold toes pressed against his bare feet looking for some warmth. He had covered you both with three thick blankets, your head almost tucked underneath with your cheek resting on his chest.

He stroked your hair, knowing that something was off. Joel could not pinpoint what exactly, but he was sure there was something on your mind worrying you. It pained him that you wouldn’t share what it was, especially after everything you had been through together. There should be no need to fence off your feelings away from him, but he understood that he couldn’t push you to share with him whatever preoccupied your mind.

Mainly because he also had worries of his own that he kept to himself. Like keeping you alive, for instance. How close Joel had been to losing you had unleashed a new wave of anxiety ― there was no room for mistakes anymore, he had promised himself. He would die before having you in harm’s way again.

You snuggled against his chest, looking for some comfort, while his arms embraced you tighter. Then he felt one of your cold hands snaking under his tee shirt, caressing his lower tummy.

His body reacted unwillingly at your touch, your hand too close to where he liked it most. Joel took a deep breath, and you snickered above him.

“You okay?” You teased, chin planted on his left pec and wicked eyes staring up at him.

“Mhmm,” was his way of saying yes. “Are you achy?”

“If you mean if something hurts, then no. I took two painkillers a couple of hours ago, so I’m actually pain-free right now. If you mean achy, like really achy… then yes.” Your voice lowered to a seductive whisper, your thumb rubbing the hairy trail running down his belly button.

“Jesus fucking Christ, honey.” He cooed when the same hand dipped under the waistband of the loose pants he used for sleeping.

“Are you achy, Joel?” You whispered in his ear as your fingers curled around his length.

“You need to rest―” He started scolding you, but you were having none of it.

You squeezed his manhood so sweet, with the perfect amount of pressure, he could not finish the sentence because a groan bubbled up his throat.

“I need to stop overthinking stuff, and I can think of a way to achieve that…” You purred again, your hand so still it was driving him crazy.

“What’s on your mind?” Even through the sensual haziness, he worried about you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing important… Don’t worry about it,” you husked, kissing the corner of his mouth.

Your fingers firmly clutched around his girth while you began pumping him. Joel closed his eyes, swallowing a growl ― anything he was thinking about, had just gone out of the window of his mind.

He hunted down your mouth until a sultry dance of tongues ensued, your hand stroking his beating cock with determination. Joel fisted one of your ass cheeks when his balls began to feel heavy and hot. He then positioned you on top of him, straddling him, and sat up a little on the couch, the small of his back resting against the arm of the couch.

You pulled down his pants and underwear, freeing his demanding and leaking erection. You did not like to waste a drop, not even a tiny one, so you quickly smothered his sensitive head with your thumb, smearing the precum over his tip. Joel loved it when you did that.

Leaving a trail of wet kisses where your neck met your shoulder, Joel helped you remove your pants and panties; then cupped your molten core, his palm completely flushed against your needy pussy lips. You whimpered something unintelligible as his index finger dunked in your slick slit.

Joel loved how your velvety fold seeped for him. He lightly stroked that tight bud of nerves, while his middle finger quickly joined the other in the warm wetness of your pussy. It slid off your tackiness until it found your begging entrance. Joel circled it a few times, his thumb now attending your pulsing clit, until he dived it in.

You moaned audibly and your hand stilled around his throbbing dick. Joel felt relief when you finally resumed the pumping of his cock, most probably spurred on by his relentless fingering. The wet, sucking sounds your pussy was making around his finger was driving him mad with lust, especially when you tightened your walls around it.

His wandering middle finger sunk in your weeping hole too. Joel curled them both towards the front, caressing the soft, spongy spot that made you go wild with desire, while his thumb worked your clit diligently.

He knew you were lost to him the moment you let go of his hard, pulsating cock and placed your hands on each of his shoulders, finding your balance. You jerked your hips up and down on his lap as if you were riding his cock, your swollen cunt squeezing his fingers ever so sweetly.

“That’s it, baby. Come for me. Come on my fingers, I know you want it.” He goaded you while his free hand stroked his steely dick.

Joel felt the pulsation of your walls, what a tight grip they had on his fingers, announcing your orgasm. And before you tipped over the edge of your arousal, Joel took them out with a loud, squelching pop.

“J-Joel, p-please...” A pitiful whine escaped your mouth when you thought he was about to deny you an orgasm, but he wasn’t so cruel.

Joel forced your hips down on his beating cock, your creamy cunt sheathing him perfectly ― your quivering hole so well trained to stretch around him just enough. He held you down, impaled by his shaft, and then intensely circled your thudding clit again until you came hard on him. The intensity of your climax transformed your beautiful features ― the prettiest portrait he had ever set his eyes on.

This was his personal paradise, with you sat down on his lap and his engorged cock completely buried between your damp flaps. He didn’t know if it was voluntarily or not, but your walls kept on trembling around his dick, your face tilted upwards towards the ceiling. He could picture you with your mouth agape and eyes closed as you felt the last waves of your pleasure.

Joel released your waist and stroked your buttocks, burying his face between your regrettably covered breasts.

“Ride my cock, darlin’. Ride me hard and fast. Wanna feel this pussy of mine doing her job, working my dick as she should. What she was made for.” Joel could not ―would not― stop talking, knowing how much it turned both of you on.

Joel leaned back a bit while you looked for his mouth to muffle both of your moans. With the help of your knees comfortably placed on either side of him, you started swaying your hips back and forth, sitting on his pulsating, hot dick and almost releasing it entirely.

The pace you picked up was maddening, devilish even. You would harshly come down on him and then took your sweet time to free his manhood. Your motions grew savage and erratic, and Joel aided you by cupping both of your ass cheeks, guiding your rhythm and fucking up into you, meeting every thrust with one of his own.

The kiss got so sloppy you both needed a breather ― and you took the opportunity to sink your face in the crook of his neck while mewling like a kitten in heat, your saliva pooling on his skin while your hips smoothly rocked on top of him.

“I-I’m coming again, I can’t―” Your faltering voice tickled the wet skin of his neck.

“Let go, darlin’. Come for me, squeeze me hard, harder―” Joel didn’t need to incite you anymore, because as soon as he touched your writhing clit again, you melted all over him.

“Oh, fuck, Joel, yes― Mhmmm… A-ah…” You shrieked uncontrollably, choking his throbbing shaft with your squiring cunt, his mushroom head dragging on your g-spot just right.

Your cream coating his lap so thickly sent him down a spiral of lust he had learnt to crave. Joel felt the deep pulse, his veiny cock twitching with anticipation. Making use of the last remnants of his logic, Joel cupped your ass and push it up, so his dick slipped out of you just in time, the knob shyly and briefly caressing that tight ring.

With his needy erection lodged between your ass cheeks, he came hard with a guttural growl ― white, thick spurts of cum shooting up and landing on the curve of your buttocks. His head tilted back, rejoicing in the pleasure that was washing over him, exposing his neck to your sinful mouth. You scratched the stubble on his jaw with bare teeth, and then bit down on his skin, marking him yours.

His softening cock spasmed one las time in the fold of your skin, as Joel slowly came back to his senses, foraging for your lips. This time the kiss was not messy but needy as both of you came down from the high of your shared ecstasy.

“Joel,” you whispered into his mouth, “I love you. You know that, right?”

His chest swelled with your love confession ― he would never grow tired of you saying it out loud. But this time there was a different note to your admission, one he did not know how to interpret. There was as much love as there was doubt. Maybe you just needed some reassurance, albeit he did not see why.

He nuzzled your cheek before chastely pecking your reddened lips.

“Yeah, I know.” His mouth ghosted over your closed eyelids, caressing the delicate skin. “I love you too, no matter what.”

“No matter what?” You asked under your shaky breath.

“Yes, no matter what.” There was no hesitation whatsoever. He truly meant it.

You had never bit your nails before, but that was everything you could do while you waited for the pregnancy test to develop.

How could you be in this situation? You both were always careful, with Joel finishing outside every time. Except for that one night, you thought. The night you both believed to be your last. “Please, Joel, I want to feel you, I need to feel you,” you had whispered to him at the top of your climax, blind to the fact that those words would seal your fate.

Nothing you could do take it back. If you wanted to take it back, that was.

And then there was last night. You felt extremely guilty for using sex as a distraction, but you panicked. That “I need to stop overthinking stuff” had escaped your mouth before you could stop it and Joel, as perceptive as he was, had picked up on it. Sometimes you wished he couldn’t read you like an open book.

The wait was killing you, your racing thoughts going over every single scenario your brain could come up with. All the good and the bad flashing before your eyes ― and you were so intent on focusing on the bad.

This world was not made to be lived in. Surviving was not guaranteed, death closing in at every turn of the path. And if it was hard enough for yourself, how would it be for a tiny, helpless baby? What kind of life would you be giving them? There were too many things that could happen, too many threats out there ― not only the dead, but also the ones who lived. If the apocalypse had taught you anything, it was that the living could not be trusted.

What if you died? Or even worse, what if your baby died? What if you couldn’t protect them? What if someone hurt them? What would you do then?

But before all of that, you would have to go through a pregnancy in a world where coming by some measly tampons was already a fucking miracle. All the complications you could face paled in comparison to how that baby could suffer during childbirth if something went wrong.

And then there was Joel. How would he react? You had never spoken about this, so you truly had no idea what his thoughts were on the matter. He was a dad, always would be ― and you knew how much it hurt him to be a childless father. How much he missed Sarah. How much he regretted everything he didn’t do that fateful September night. Perhaps Joel would see this baby as a blessing ― or a death sentence. It was impossible to tell.

Would he stay with you, or would he abandon you? Would he want to keep the baby?

Did you want to keep the baby?

A dense knot formed in your throat as tears gathered at the edges of your eyes, your foot nervously tapping the linoleum on the floor. A metallic tang suddenly flooded your sense of taste, and you removed your thumb from your lips ― you had nipped at your cuticle so bad, it had started bleeding.

You sucked on the wound in the hopes it would stop bleeding while your eyes were transfixed on the test, your heart pounding so hard it was climbing up your throat.

Then a change on the screen made your heart jolt painfully.

You lunged forward, hand extended. Your fingers were shaking so much, the test dropped from your grip and hit the sink, falling facedown. With trembling hands, you reached for it again and turned it around.

The world stilled.

Pregnant.

And then the world spun around you.

Your vision went white for a second, your other hand grasping the edge of the counter tight to prevent you from falling. Your knees were quivering so much you ended up sitting down on the lidded toilet, trying to control your quick breathing.

Tears inevitably welled up as your new reality slowly dawned on you. A part of you wanted this child so much, so badly, it was overwhelming. Before Cordyceps, you had always wanted to be a mother but thought it would never happen when your last relationship broke off. Then the apocalypse happened, and such desire got drown by your new priorities, so never really gave it another thought.

And now your long-forgotten yearning was staring right back at you. A crack of happiness forced its way through your heart and for a brief second, you smiled through the tears. Maybe this was not what you had planned, maybe it was selfish of you ― you had not even met this baby yet, and you knew you would give your life for them.

A knock on the bathroom door derailed your train of thought.

“Baby, are you okay?” Joel’s voice came through the plank of wood separating you.

And a part of you was scared to bits. Sheer panic was what made you spring up to your feet, your hand still holding the pregnancy test.

“Y-yeah!” You quickly answered, wiping away your tears as you shoved the test down in one of the pockets of your backpack.

Tell him. I should tell him. He has the right to know. This baby is as much his as they are mine.

You tried to convince yourself and were determined to share the news, but the moment you opened the door and were faced with Joel, fear took over your being and the words got stuck at the back of your throat.

You smiled at him as if nothing happened, as if your world had not been turned upside down a minute ago.

“Yeah, all good,” you said, your smile a little bit wider as you kept the tears at bay.

Joel’s eyes squinted ever so slightly, but if he suspected something, he didn’t say.

“Are you ready to go? Everything’s in the car,” he asked, his fingers seeking yours to pull you into the corridor.

“Perfect, let’s go.”

No matter what. He said no matter what. This is “no matter what.” Just say it. It’ll be fine. It’s okay. Say it.

“Joel?” You whispered his name, a fleeting moment of bravery.

His head turned around to look at you over his shoulder as he walked a step ahead of you.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

Now. Speak up. Say the words. He won’t leave you. He’s a dad. Always have been. He’ll understand. It’s okay. Say it. Come on, open your mouth and just say it!

“I think I’ve forgotten my toothbrush, sorry,” the words left your mouth before your brain could register them.

You had panicked again and wanted to hit yourself for it. Why the sudden lack of trust? He loved you and you loved him. That was all that mattered, right?

You turned on your heels before he could see your glassy eyes and scurried away to retrieve a toothbrush that was already packed away in your backpack.

The detour to get to Oswego was eating up most of the fuel. For three days Joel had driven around, stalking out different roads to access the town. Perhaps he was paranoid but preferred to err on the side of caution. Chicago was still fresh on his mind, so the idea of getting close to civilisation again was not dear to him.

As much as he tried to focus, he was also distracted. You had been acting as always, but there was this nagging thought in the confines of his mind that told him there was something wrong. Joel did not know what it was but sensed something different in your attitude.

You were not distant with him, but you were cautious, almost reticent. Maybe coming closer to a town bothered you too, although he did not understand why. It was you who had suggested looking for Tommy, as much as he first loathed the idea.

He had been thinking about the reunion with Tommy since you both set your path towards Oswego. Joel did not know what to expect because Tommy could be as volatile as he was. He knew Tommy meant well, but in the end, he had left him behind when Joel needed his support the most. That memory, that betrayal, still stung ― badly. But according to you, forgiving and moving on would do wonders for him.

His thoughts drifted back to you as he watched you rummage through your backpack, looking for a lighter ― you were far enough from humanity and clickers that a little fire to boil some water with tea leaves before going to bed would not be an issue with the dense foliage sheltering you both. This was a quick pit stop before finding a house to spend the night.

Joel could not put his finger on what was bothering you, that harrowing feeling never truly left him since the night you spent on Pembroke. In retrospect, he even wondered if you had worked him up that night because he had asked you what was in your mind and did not want to answer him.

Whatever it was, you seemed intent on not sharing your worries with him. He was slightly hurt and felt like you had built an impenetrable wall around you. You would meet him at the door every now and then but wouldn’t really invite him in into the fortress of your mind.

But yet again, he did exactly the same. Perhaps if he opened up about his concerns, you would too.

As he was about to say something, you dropped your backpack on the fallen tree trunk and stood up.

“Silly me, I think I left it in the car,” you groaned, exasperated, as you made your way back to the Jeep.

Joel watched the backpack rock back and forth on the trunk before it fell forwards. He was able to catch it before it hit the frozen ground, but the contents of the front pocket spilled on the floor. He mindlessly picked each piece up and put it back in the pocket ― but the last thing caught his attention.

A white stick with a blue cap that was vaguely familiar. For a second, he thought it was a weird-looking pen until he flipped it around and was greeted with a digital screen that read, “Pregnant.”

It was just one simple word, but he could not make sense of it. That was until the pieces of the puzzle started to fit together, painting a clearer picture in front of him. His heart suddenly dropped to his stomach at the realisation of what was on the palm of his hand.

His jaw went slack as the news started to sink in. Pregnant? A baby? In this world? With all those threats out there? This was no life to bring up a baby. Always on the run, never settling anywhere ― it would be cruel to doom them to such an existence. He would not be able to protect them, he would fail all over again. That would kill him ― Joel was convinced he could not take another loss like that, cradling another dead child of his.

His memory shot back to Sarah, to the night that changed everything for the worse. He could still feel the warmth leaving her body, her teary eyes looking up at the night sky. The pain that shredded his whole being, leaving him an empty carcass to wander this Earth. His whole world had shattered to pieces ― pieces he was barely able to put together now.

What in another lifetime would have been a blessing, in this one it was most definitely a curse. A death sentence for the child, regardless of how hard both of you tried. Joel knew ― he knew very well. There were forces he could not control, and death was one of them. The moment his tainted soul touched an innocent one, he would corrupt them. The same way he corrupted yours.

The reality was, he was scared to death. There were not many things in this universe that would faze him anymore ― but this was one of them.

Was this what was worrying you? It had to be. Why had you not said one word to him about it? For three fucking days? Yes, he was scared, but he was madder.

“Joel, do you have the lighter? I can’t find―” You began to ask before turning around and closing the passenger’s door behind you.

Your eyes widened as if you had seen a ghost and froze in place. You seemed shocked enough, but what was your plan? Not tell him until you were literally showing? Not tell him at all?

“Why―”

“Care to explain this?” He barked between gritted teeth, his temper flaring, as he stood up.

He threw you the test and you just about managed to catch it. He watched your gaze drift down to the device, almost as if it was the first time you saw it.

For a minute you didn’t say anything ― nothing at all. His anger, but also his disappointment, grew. What did this say about you? About him? About your relationship?

“You’ve gone through my things?” You hushed, such a low murmur he hardly heard you.

Joel scoffed, not believing his hearing. Maybe he was deafer than he thought? Was that all that worried you? All that you had to say right now?

Your accusatory tone stung badly; a sharp dart directed to his pounding heart. You had really good aim.

“‘Course not! Your backpack fell―” Why was he explaining himself when it was obvious you had not showed him the same deference about way more important matters? “Doesn’t matter. When did you plan to tell me? Or were you gonna keep me in the dark?”

You just stared at him with doe eyes, your fingers wrapped around the test as if it was your lifeline. Why weren’t you talking? Why did you look at him as if he had booted you?

The knot in his throat got bigger, almost collapsing his airway. Fight me back.

“You said it was nothing important, dammit,” his voice broke on the last word.

Finally, you blinked and shyly took a few steps towards him. Joel’s eyes followed your every movement but didn’t meet you halfway as he should have, so you stopped in your tracks. The utter fear had him paralysed ― fear of losing you, of taking care of a baby on this decrepit world, of making another unfathomable mistake.

“And you said no matter what,” you whispered back, your heart seeking his but not finding it ― it was well tucked away, out of reach for the time being.

That was a low blow, one that would have made him fold if it wasn’t for his stubbornness.

“Are you keeping it?” He found himself asking, jaw clenched.

“It?” Again, another stab right to the centre of his chest. He didn’t mean it that way, but your rhetoric question made it sound awful now. “I wanted to speak to you first…”

“Ah, were you? So, I have a say in this?” He was genuinely surprised, his brows furrowing.

“Of course you do, Joel.” You muttered, dipping your hands in the pockets of your padded coat, a defeated look on your face. “This baby… is mine and yours. Ours. If you truly don’t want them, then…” You shrugged, a loud, heavy sigh leaving your mouth in the shape of a misty cloud. “Can’t force you, won’t force you.”

“Doesn’t look like we have much of a choice,” he snapped back, rubbing his face with one hand.

There were no hospitals, no doctors, no nothing. The reality was you both were stuck with the consequences of your actions.

“You do. I don’t,” Your voice cracked, your eyes watery and your head sinking between your shoulders as you took a step away from him. “It’s not my fault, you know?”

He suddenly felt like a fucking jerk. It was obvious his reaction was not what you were expecting of him. Damn, it wasn’t what he expected of himself. He had let his fear speak for him, instead of reassuring you everything was going to be okay.

Joel should have told you he would be by your side at every turn of this life and the next. Instead, it looked like he was blaming you for what had happened. But that was not his intention, not at all.

He then realised he was making it all be about himself, instead of about you and the baby. What an egocentric ass he was. He had been so worried about himself, about his fears, Joel hadn’t thought of how you were feeling. You, who was the most affected by it all ― not him.

Before he could change his narrative, before he could apologise and ask to start this conversation all over again, you turned on your heels and walked towards the car.

The slam of the passenger’s door had a definite fatality to it ― the kind that would make his stomach churn.

What the fuck had he just done?

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981

@fancyyoouu @smolbeanzzz @guelyury @bishtrouille

@harriedandharassed @thepalaceofmelanie @eternallyvenus

[hwadam-stories]

⊹ PHANTOM PAINS ⊹ PILOT EPISODE

(black!fem!) mea harper!reader x ceo boss!dhan tae-oh

ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ

I do not consent to my work being reposted, — stolen or translated anywhere else.

⊹ CW: long post, emotional cheating, unrequited love, depression, fluff, drama, etc.

⊹ SYNOPSIS: Celebrating his niece's birthday at a restaurant, Dhan recognizes you from across the room as his past lover from five hundred years ago and is determined to stop at nothing to be with you again.

⊹ A/N: this is my first serious fanfic, feedback on this pilot (comments, messages & reblogs only!) will help me consider continuing it with motivation. Canon divergent / somewhat canon compliant to the MEA CULPA (2024) film by Tyler Perry with some crossover aspects thrown in. I hope you enjoy!

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Does Your Majesty wish to meet again in our next lives?" You asked, wrapping your arms around him.

"Of course, were you considering abandoning me?" Dhan replied, chuckling.

"Okay then, when the time comes, I'll be your master once more." You promised. "Your love. Your pain. Even your very last breath, please give them all to me."

"They are all yours, y/n."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

There was a time when those words meant everything to him.

A time when finding you meant everything to him.

But after his fifth life, Dhan had given up on his search and the phantom pains have haunted him ever since.

It was a pain that wasn't his, a pain that never faltered in reminding him of his failure despite the many times you two were reincarnated throughout the last five hundred years.

Your souls were connected after all and even though this pain has brought him a great deal of misery, part of him hoped you weren't feeling anything.

Presumably, because he was always reincarnated as a man, he assumed you would be reincarnated as a woman but other than that, he never really had any concrete way of finding you. It was safe to assume that since his ethnicity changed, yours did too.

Not that he particularly cared what race you were now, all that mattered was that he was reunited with you. But that promise has become nothing but a fleeting dream. A delusion Dhan couldn't completely let go of because this pain meant that you were alive, somewhere out there. Hopefully looking for him too.

In every lifetime after the first one, he always accumulated a great deal of wealth somewhere in his mid to late twenties under the name of Dan.

In this era, he was Dhan Tae-Oh, the boss of a CEO corporation in Korea and came from a long line of gangsters that reinforced the values of family and business to a rather high degree.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Tonight, he was celebrating his niece's 9th birthday and his sister-in-law's most recent promotion in the fashion industry.

His younger brother, Charles Kang, arranged everything at the finest Italian restaurant in all of Chicago, Illinois, called up Dhan three days before and here they all were.

"You know, we got lucky tonight." Charles set aside his fork and knife for a sip of wine.

"I initially planned to invite more people for Abby's dinner party but a larger group had already reserved a bigger table and I snagged us the only one they had left."

Now that Dhan gave it a second thought, Piccolo Sogno was unusually packed tonight and much busier than he had initially anticipated.

Even looking over his shoulder he could still see the glimpse of the same crowd he passed through, still waiting in line outside.

His assistant, Seon-woo, mentioned something about a on the rise celebrity artist being one of its more known customers over the last couple of years. No one Dhan had really heard of or cared to for that matter.

"Their celebrating their mum's birthday, I heard." Susan remarked, her posh accent gleaming through. She looked past her husband and over her shoulder, seeing the large the table behind them.

There were about five people and that one particular redheaded woman must've been the birthday mom. "Surely Abby won't mind sharing her special day when two cakes come out." Susan teased.

"You got me a cake?!" Abby gasped, beaming with a smile. "Is it a big one?"

"You can only have two slices, young lady." Susan tenderly pinched her daughter's cheek. "The last thing we need is you bouncin' off the walls at 2 o'clock in the mornin' on a school night."

Abby pouted and brought those puppy eyes straight to her uncle.

Dhan stifled a laugh, hiding that cheeky smile behind a half closed fist. "I'm sorry Abby, not even that can convince me to break your parents rules but I'll make it up to you when dessert arrives, I promise."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Dessert was served in the form of a double stacked white and pink frosted cake decorated with strawberries and red icing for the words "Happy 9th birthday, Abigail!"

Candles were blown and nine year old Abigail Kang became tonight's birthday girl that the staff (and some nearby tables) sang to. Pictures were taken and there were smiles all around.

The gift that Dhan purchased was a reasonably expensive one but not something he would ever think to showboat about. He simply had some connections here and there and thought to put them to good use for the short time he was going to be in Chicago.

"All fourteen of Taylor Swift's albums!?" Abby squealed, wrapping her arms around her Uncle Dhan and squeezing him tight. "I love it! I love it! I love it!"

Dhan laughed nervously, patting her head and squeezing her shoulder tenderly. "Your arms squishing my insides make that explicitly clear."

Everything was going great. Dhan was feeling great.

That is, until things weren't great anymore.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Dhan suddenly gripped the edge of the table to stop himself from keeling over on the floor of the restaurant.

His chest became uncomfortably tight and his head began throbbed with a splitting sensation.

The phantom pain had returned.

For the sake not wanting to make a scene or ruin what was already a perfect night, Dhan got his breathing under control, keeping some stoicism to his face to not alarm anyone.

The tightness in his chest seemed to lessen but the throbbing in his head wasn't going anywhere.

"Pumpkin, why don't me and you freshen up in the girls' room and leave the boys here, yeah?" As if on cue, Susan took her daughter by the hand and headed straight for the bathroom.

"Dhan." Charles sighed, addressing him in a somber tone of their birth language. Entirely oblivious to what his brother suffering with. "I know we haven't always seen eye to eye but I'm really glad you could make it tonight."

He listened to his brother -- or at least tried to.

The words were being drowned out by a sudden ringing in his ears, leaving him momentarily stunned that it almost felt like the world around him was going to spin.

But he wasn't feeling nauseous from the alcohol or a sudden fever. It felt more like ... resentment.

It put a bitter taste in his mouth and made him clench his fist at the end of the table until his knuckles went white.

His brother hadn't done anything wrong and yet Dhan was being swallowed whole by the sensation, not knowing where to place it.

It's just ... if his brother wasn't the problem, then who?

"Oh look! Her Majesty, The Queen has finally arrived." A woman's voice cackled in the air.

She was an older looking caucasian woman with red curly hair and wine red lipstick, belonging to the group that booked a table for a total of nine and judging by what the already opened and nearly empty wine bottle, she must've had a bit too much to drink.

That's when he saw you approach the table.

It was you. It was really you.

His soulmate.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Don't worry son, your second wife will be on time." Azalia, your mother-in-law cackled, caressing the cheek of Kal, your husband.

His awkward shuffle of a smile made it crystal clear that whatever came out of her mouth tonight, he wasn't going to come to your defense anytime soon.

What can you expect from a man that holds his disrespectful mother over your marriage of three years?

What's worse is that Azalia had the nerve to invite the one woman she favored more.

Your husband's childhood friend, Jenna.

The same childhood friend that had become the topic of your marriage counseling session that your husband Kal had ditched midway through for this dinner party.

A session that you had to finish by yourself, making you the one who arrived late.

Jenna was a tall, light skinned woman with dark curly hair and a bright red dress with a V neck to show off a window of cleavage and a shortened skirt to show off her toned and slender legs.

And to add salt to fucking wound -- Azalia made sure Jenna sat next to your husband while you sat at the end of the table with your only friend and sister-in-law, Charlise.

"I'm sure you won't mind, y/n. You and Charlise probably wanna talk anyway."'

You looked at Kal, searching his gaze for something, any sign of him speaking up to his mother but to your utter disappointment he just let it happen.

You can only push down the intense feeling of resentment and agitation with a passive aggressive smile, taking your seat at the far end with Charlise.

This was going to be a long dinner to get through.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Apart from a brief exchange of words from your brother-in-law, Ray Hawthorne, and the couple sitting across from you, Charlise was the only saving grace at this table and frankly the only reason you kept it together as long as you did.

As much as you wanted to tear off that terrible red wig and burn it, you tuned out your mother-in-law whenever she made any more chide remarks about you.

Not much of a point in ignoring your husband, he was too focused on Jenna and giving Azalia one of the most expensive birthday gifts you had ever seen.

A silver and gold watch that you knew your unemployed husband didn't have the money for.

"Happy birthday mom, from me and y/n."

You scoffed in utter disbelief and stood up from your seat, grabbing your purse. "If you'll excuse me, I think I need some fresh air."

"Oh, well you take your time. We're doing fine here." Azalia insisted, smiling from ear to ear.

Kal was on the verge of getting out of his seat, expressing concern. "I can come with you babe--"

"No." You snapped coldly, barely sparing him a glance as you waved him off dismissively. "I'll be fine on my own, thank you."

Kal frowned, lowering himself back down with a defeated expression. "A-Alright, just don't stay out there too long."

You sighed into the night air, hands pressed against the metal railing while the people behind you carried on with their evening under the lit up patio roof. Glasses clanking, people laughing, wine pouring and plates clinking.

All of it was just background noise to drown out one particular thought that you couldn't run away from.

Maybe it's time to put this relationship on permanent leave.

It's not a pleasant thought. It never was. You and Kal had known each other for eight years and had been married for the last three of them. You've had your ups and downs like any other couple and got through it but this? This was too much. His mother was too much.

But that's probably what SHE wants. The sooner you're gone. The happier she'll be.

You only stuck it out this long because you genuinely loved Kal and Charlise was the anchor keeping you grounded.

As one of Chicago's most successful defense attorney's alongside your brother-in-law, you had everything and yet nothing at all with how your marriage was starting to fall apart, on top of shouldering the numerous bills since Kal lost his job as an anesthesiologist.

God, where did it all go wrong?

"Having a rough night?"

You were snapped out of your thoughts by the deep and smooth voice of a man walking up beside you. The cool night's breeze washing over you both.

He was a tall and handsome man of Korean decent. The darkness of his long hair making the crimson color of his eyes seem as though he were some beast straight out of a fairytale.

Alluring eyes that stared into you with a hint of sincerity and invitation.

You can barely hold in a chuckle, crossing one arm over the other to let your wedding ring glint in the moonlight. "That would be the understatement of tonight."

He sees this and can't hide the smirk on his face. "I don't blame you. In-laws can be infuriating like that sometimes. Especially mother-in-law's."

The restaurant wasn't exactly that big in terms of table arrangements so it makes sense one's antics would be overheard when they're standing around the biggest table in the room.

You chuckle again. The tightness in your chest starting to lighten but your smart enough to keep up you guard to shut down any potential flirting, even the harmless kind. "Can you expect anyone to act cordial on their birthday? I've been here all night without a single drink of my own and tolerating her has been exhausting."

You certainly weren't the type to open up like this to a stranger of all people but it felt good. Yes, you had your friend, Charlise, but there was something different about this man. Something oddly familiar.

"Because she's acting like a cunt towards you and only you and you feel that if you didn't step out when you did you would've tore her a new one right infront of her favorite son and the entire restaurant?" He guessed your exact feelings with a cheeky smile.

You exhale a baffled laugh.

It's like he knew exactly what you were feeling.

"Oh, so you're a mind reader now?"

He raises his right hand, jokingly. "Guilty as charged, your honor."

The both of you laugh.

"Dhan."

"Y/n."

Dhan smiled, staring longingly into your eyes. "A pleasure to meet you, y/n."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Eventually, you were back inside the restaurant. Sitting comfortably beside Charlise and ignoring another passive aggressive comment from Azalia.

You had been gone for a solid eight, maybe ten minutes tops.

The dinner eventually ended and everyone was putting aside their plates and gathering up their coats and belongings while Ray generously secured the bill.

That's when the waiter approached with an expensive looking bottle of wine.

Ray dismissively waved his hand. "No need to send over anymore wine, sir. You can take that back, the dinner party is over."

The waiter shook his head. "I'm sorry sir this isn't for the table. I'm looking for a y/n, is there a y/n here?"

You raise your hand slightly to get the waiter's attention. "I'm y/n."

The waiter smiled at you, presenting the bottle. "Piccolo Sogno would like to formally gift you our most exclusive wine to enjoy right at home. On behalf of a generous courtesy from Mr. Tae-Oh, ma'am who wishes you a fine night. Thank you for you dining with us."

A bit stunned, you still accepted the bottle. That name alone already clued you in to who this was from.

Unaware of your husband's jealous gaze, you can't hide the smile on your lips as you read the note on the bottle.

A drink to wash away all your frustrations - Dhan.

[lailakotori]

Headcanon Illinois is grandchild of noir!mark | Illinois x GN!reader

It’s not a request, Just some my imagination about the theory about Illinois and Noir!mark like- Their family? I don’t know how to explain but- you will find out in this story!

btw i forgot the credit who think canon if one of yall rememeber or even saw that, pls told which thier ac i want to the credit so much.

Summary: Illinois meet the person who be mysterious.

TW : Fluff, Angst, Illinois is the grandchild of Noir!mark, Y/n in the wkm adwm ahwm and swm are the same person, mention a past life, mention first love, Some violence of misunderstanding.

As Illinois remember, His grandpa, Mark always talks about his adventure in space. He’s told how cool or beautiful is it but not as much like his first love… The only love will never forgot until he’s pass. Of course he love his grandma but she didn’t the first thing on his mind. He fall in love with his captain who brave, clever, beautiful and handsome But they never know his feeling while theirs gone. He belive that one day they will come back.

Illinois has a theory like- They ran away with another crew without telling mark before until he realize that you will never come back, and also Question why He loves them so much. Did they make a love potion? Or just because mark is a simp.

Illinois didn’t seem to be care that much, Until he meet Y/n, The person who keep thier past life.

He meet them in the cave and meet them in space ship for twice. Then he meet they again but their seem look tried, Trying sleep or live in peace like old person.

“Long time no see, gorgeous” He says with a smile, Y/n looks at him and says back “Glade to see you, Illinois” “You look tired today….Want some vacation? I will tour around with you if you want, baby” They shook their head “Thanks but no, I’m too old about this stuff”

Too old? It’s make Illinois Question, Becaues you look young and pretty. what that suppost to mean???

He know that if he try to find out your past life, It’s kinda rude. But he still trying find out.

He begs you to adventure with him, At first you denied him until he’s annoy make you accepte his request.

Both of you adventure everywhere and have some conversation but It’s didn’t helpful to mention your past.

Also, he has weird feelings for you… Heart beat fast, Want to near you, Want to see your smile and heard laugh. He trying avoid you but it’s make harder and harder, Finally he fall for it.

One day, He’s want you visit his granpa. Because he want to make you impress and boasting.

But He didn’t know who you are…Even who you were to be.

When Illinois and you visit mark, The situation change… Every thing you trying to hind open up because him.

“….Long time no see, captian” mark smile weakly “Glade to meet you, mark. How your life? This is your granson?” You sit on the chair while Ililnois shock “hmm….It’s great but it’s will much if you stay with me and yeah…That is my grandson. What about you, captian. Where are you been? Why you look so tried more than before…” You bite your bottom lip with nerves “Long story….and don’t worry about its, It’s end now. Just…some nightmare and think some past”

When you end conversation, You and Illinois are polemic about your past life or your Identity.

“Why you don’t tell me that you’re that captian???”

“It’s not that importhan beside you didn’t ask that.”

“Jeez…. You’re freaking Selfish you know that?”

“Excuse me?”

“You run away from my granpa, Not tell reason why you go even last goodbye. Just run away start new life and look at you- Still gorgeous never look old. I wonder why you act like you care-”

“You don’t know me, Ililnois”

“THEN TELL ME, why are you look like-”

“BECUASE I’M DEAD”

“….”

“I’m dead for long time ago….Before i meet you and noir mark, and the death make me immortal but this immortal HURT me Illinois. You don’t know what i saw, you don’t even know why i’m always meet all of you. I’m die and stuck in fucking mirror nobody help me or care me, Damian and celine ran away because their revenge. AND THAT ASSHOLE MARK USE ME LIKE I AM TOY”

“….y/n”

“You think that I’m live in peace and perfect? Well, you’re WRONG. I’m in fucking loop hell, see everything and remember it. I saw the bad ending and the Good ending. You don’t know that days, The days i trying to protect your grandpa with my own life, The day I sacrifice myself for all of them. When It ends…. I’m gone becuase Asshole mark, He didn’t let me say goodbye to him or even give last hug!”

Now, Illinois understand the truth. The past of pain and lose, He feel bad for them and want to say sorry and listen the real story of you.

He’s apologized, sit beside and listen to what you saw. Ask detailed who they are or how you feel.

While end from visited noir mark. Illinois leads you to a mansion, Let’s you meet other Egos. It’d make he’s smile, to see you talk all of them in a calm voice. Besiad… Darkiplier and Wilford are hug you as old friends.

He’s stick with you all the time no matter what, Wanna go toilet? I’m come with you, Wanna sleep? Sleep on my lap.

When you have nightmare, He will hug you make you breath slowly calm until you feel fine.

He’s call you ‘Old men/women/dear’ or ‘Captian’

Some time, You saw him as noir mark how such a flirt to him. You adore him as Freinds first untilhe come closer.

He’s confess his love to you by hold your hand and kiss them, Told how you look or how you’re so fine.

After that, You and him also live in peace like old couple. Some little kiss, some words of love before he adventure. If you want to with him, He prefer let’s you come with him.

[jacksepticeye-simp]

Illinois Jones & The quest for the shadow sapphire - Part 1

(Based on this fanfiction)

Illinois spun around in his swivel chair, throwing darts on the wall. Each one of them landing everywhere except the board, he huffed and started to aim his last dart with the utmost focus. A loud, sudden knock at his front door caused him to miss his almost perfect shot, the dart falling next to a picture on his desk. The knocking only got heavier. "Hold your fuckin' horses, I'm comin." This mysterious person had clearly never heard of being patient. Illinois quickly ran down the stairs of his home, once he approached the door the knocking had ceased which made him curious. Considering whoever was there before seemed like they were about to turn the door into wood chips. Illinois cautiously opened the door and looked out, On his doorstep was a newspaper clipping stapled to a sealed envelope. He picked it up and brought it inside, he picked up the article clipping. 'VINTAGE RING STOLEN FROM AUCTION' this was definitely interesting. It seemed like this was a retrieval mission, and he knew just the person to contact.

[auras-moonstone]

say don’t go — ethan landry

word count: 3.2k

pairing: hockey player!ethan landry x fem!reader

based on: say don’t go by taylor swift

summary: ethan has to move to another state to play for his dream hockey team so he decides to break up with his girlfriend, leaving her heartbroken

warnings: angst. break-up. fluff.

author’s note: hiii! long fic bc of my absence:) LOVE writing about hockey player ethan 😫 by the way, i saw retribution the other day, i actually really liked it. it wasn’t as bad as people painted it.

Y/N AND ETHAN HAD BEEN DATING FOR ALMOST A YEAR, which meant that they knew each other like the back of their hands, hence why Y/N had the intuition that his boyfriend was planning on breaking up with her.

The distance started when Ethan was signed off to the Chicago Blackhawks. As soon as he finished college, he would move to Illinois and Y/N didn’t know where she would fit in his new life, if she would even fit. He hadn’t talked about it with her, he barely even mentioned hockey around her anymore. And she just knew—she would soon stop being part of his life and it was a matter of time until Ethan sat her down and tell her.

The waiting was sadness, and as the days flew by it was slowly driving her into madness. And then she finally got the text from him, asking her to go to his house. She drove there with a heavy heart, knowing it was going to be the last time she passed those streets.

Meanwhile, Ethan was pacing around his living room with a tight chest and tears threatening to leave his eyes. He did not want to do it, he had been pushing away the conversation because he wasn’t ready to let her go. He still wasn’t ready, but it was for the best.

When Y/N parked the car in his driveway and got out, she walked towards the entry with slow heavy steps. It was like standing in a tightrope—she held her breath so hard and felt like one wrong step might make her collapse to the ground. She didn’t want to reach the end of that metaphorical tightrope because nothing good was awaiting her on the other side. Yet, she had no choice, so with the knuckles of her shaky hands she knocked on the door.

Ethan stared at the door for a few seconds, and eventually ordered his body to open the door. He faced the most devastating sight—his girlfriend, standing there looking smaller than ever, with dark bags under her saddened eyes and wearing an expression of defeat. At first, he thought something had happened to her but the reluctance of meeting his eyes was enough to make him realize that she knew. She knew what was going on.

“Hi.” he said in a low pained voice. “Come in.”

She greeted him with just a nod and a pathetic attempt of a smile, aware that opening her mouth would just trigger the tears she was trying so hard to hold back. Y/N just wanted him to rip the bandaid off so she could walk back to her car and cry her heart out.

“Let’s sit on the couch.” he said, his heart breaking by her crest fallen state.

“Just say it, Ethan.” in her mind, the way the words left her mouth were harsh and sharp like a knife, but truth was, her voice reached the highest level of vulnerability. The pain in her voice was clear.

He swallowed down the knot in his throat. This was even more painful than he had imagined. “Y/N… I’m sorry.”

She hated herself for feeling the urge to wrap him in her arms and brush away his tears. He was the one tearing up the relationship, not the other way around.

“I don’t understand.” she frowned sadly, trying to make sense of the decision.

“I know you don’t… I just, I can’t do this anymore, Y/N/N. I’m going away, the first months are going to be rough. I need to show them they didn’t make a mistake when they chose me. I can’t afford any distractions” as soon as those last words left his mouth, he knew he fucked up.

Y/N flinched, and took a step back as if he had slapped her. “Oh, wow. That’s just the cherry on top, Ethan.”

“Shit, no. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Maybe you didn’t mean to say it, but it’s what you think. That I’m a distraction. That’s why you’re breaking up with me.”

It wasn’t that. She would never be a distraction—not the bad kind, at least—, but he couldn’t tell her the real reason why he was breaking things off. She would try to fight it, and that’s not what he wanted.

“No.” he sighed. “I just need to focus on doing my best, and I won’t have time for a relationship. I can’t just keep dating you when I can’t give you what you deserve.” he took a step closer, and cupped her cheek. “I don’t want you to hate me. Please don’t hate me, I really think this is for the best.”

“I just… why didn’t you tell me this sooner? These past few weeks were hell, I was constantly scared of this moment to come. It was agonising.”

“I was so selfish, I know. But I couldn’t let go, I wanted to spend a few more days with you. I didn’t know I was already hurting you.”

“You always knew you were going professional.” she whispered. “Did you always know you would break up with me in the end?”

“I didn’t expect to like you so much.” he said truthfully. “You know I didn���t do relationships, so I thought the thing between us would end way before I had to leave.”

“And you couldn’t have told me our relationship had an expiration date? Why’d you have to lead me on?”

“I… I don’t know, Y/N. I thought it was obvious that we couldn’t do long distance.”

Y/N’s scoff resonated in the room. “No, Ethan. It wasn’t fucking obvious. I thought we would try…”

“For what? These things never work. And with my schedule, I don’t see how this could not end in disaster. Why would we risk it?”

Y/N didn’t even contemplate it, and blurted out the words she had been meaning to say for a while “Because I love you…”

Ethan’s mind went blank, and he stood there in front of her completely speechless and frozen. He didn’t even noticed the way Y/N’s eyes got glossy, the way her hands shook or the anxious glances she threw his way.

Finally, Ethan fell on his butt on his couch and buried his face in his hands. It was painful, the way he wanted to say it back and the strength it took to restrain that urge. Ethan loved Y/N, and he knew perfectly well that she would follow him anywhere head first, but he just couldn’t let her do that. Her whole life was in New York, no matter if she was willing to let go of that for him, that wasn’t what Ethan wanted for her life. What if she ended up resenting him for allowing that?

Y/N didn’t know how long she stood there, waiting for him to say something, anything at all, but he wouldn’t even look at her. It was like twisting the knife he had already pierced her with, and she needed to get out of there. The silence was so loud she wanted to scream.

“Guess you didn’t like me that much.” she laughed a humourless laugh. Guess she was his, but he wasn’t hers. It sucks that she had to found out that way. “Good luck, Ethan. That team is lucky to have you, and I’m sure the coach will think so too. You’re going to do so well.”

And then she walked away, and a small part of her was hopeful he would suddenly react and say ‘Don’t go’. But he didn’t, and she had to hold back the tears until she was in the safety of her car, where Ethan wouldn’t be able to hear how much he had hurt her.

MONTHS FLEW BY, and Ethan was still being haunted by those three words and the way things had ended with Y/N. He was living his dream—he was part of an incredibly team, his teammates had been super welcoming, as well as the fans, and he managed to bond tightly with some of them, they were winning matches and the coach was delighted with his talent. He should be the happiest man on earth, but something was missing and he knew exactly what, or who.

Some of his teammates preferred to enjoy the female and male attention that being famous brought to play the field, and others were fully committed to their partners. And then, there was Ethan, who didn’t want to play the field and he had let go of his partner and only person his heart had belonged to. Missing her was painful, especially knowing it was all on him.

Y/N watched every single game of Ethan’s, not matter how overwhelming it was. She loved seeing him achieving his goals and dreams and felt beaten every time the team lost and she had to witness Ethan’s crestfallen face. She still loved him very much, and missing him was the hardest thing in the world.

But the fact that she missed his face didn’t mean she was ready to see him again, which was why the news hit her like a truck.

“Are you okay? You look like you’re going to pass out.” her teacher asked worriedly.

Tara looked at her with pity, knowing exactly the reason behind her weird reaction to something that was supposed to be an incredible opportunity. “She’s just shocked.”

“Oh.” the teacher smiled. “I assume you’re a fan of the Chicago Blackhawks, then.”

“Something like that.” the girl managed to say.

Apparently, one of the professors had contacts in the team and they managed to convince the coach to let two of Blackmore’s top marketing students work on a special project that involved the team’s publicity. And Y/N had been selected, which meant that he would be seeing her ex-boyfriend for the first time in six months in less than twenty four hours.

THERE WAS A MIX OF NERVOUSNESS AND ANXIOUSNESS IN THE LOCKER ROOM. Knees bounced and no words were uttered because of the uncertainty of the situation.

“Morning.” the coach spoke, exiting his office to stand in front of the team. Rolling his eyes, he let out a laugh then he said, “Unclench your asses, boys, there’s nothing wrong.”

“Why’d you ask us to come minutes early, then?” the captain asked.

“I just wanted to tell you that the following practices and games are going to be a bit different.” the team exchanged confused glances. “We’re having two marketing students present. They’re going to work on the team’s image as their final project for college.”

“Oh, cool. What’s the college?” Chad, goalie and Ethan’s closest friend, questioned.

“Blackmore University. It’s in New York. I have a friend working there and he asked me if I would be up to working with the students.”

Ethan’s hockey stick fell from his sweaty hand, landing on the ground with a resonating thud. Every pair of eyes landed on him, but his shocked face was focused on the wall.

“You okay, bud?” Chad asked, shaking his shoulder.

“W-what?” he blinked a couple of times, then shook his head. “Yes, sorry. I’m just- nothing.”

“You know the school? You’re from New York, right?” the captain asked.

“Yeah… I actually go there. I’m finishing the year online.” he answered.

“Oh, shit.” Chad said, eyes widening as the realization kicked in. “She goes there, right? Tell me she’s not in marketing.” but Ethan’s anxious eyes answered for him. “Well, fuck.”

“What’s going on?” Wes, another teammate, asked.

“My ex… she’s a marketing student. We broke up the night before I moved here.” Ethan said running his fingers through his hair.

“Let me guess, it did not end well.” Danny grimaced.

“It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great either.” Ethan began to explain everything about that night.

“Why didn’t you say it back?!” the coach asked as if it had been the juiciest gossip he had heard in years. “You didn’t love her?”

“Of course I loved her. Fuck, I still do. So fucking much. And I miss her like crazy, I’m just not ready to see her yet. She probably hates me and I still think of her everyday.”

Everyone looked at him with soft eyes. Ethan was like a golden retriever, and everyone had a soft spot for him despite having meeting him a few short months ago.

“But no matter how badly I want her back, I can’t. She lives in New York, and I live here.” he sighed. “I’m probably overreacting, though, maybe she’s not one of those two students.”

“Well, you’re about to find out because they are already here.” coach said, looking at the text he had received. “Let’s go.”

It wasn’t hard for the team to realize that Ethan’s ex was there. The two teenagers couldn’t keep their eyes off each other, and the tension was obvious to everyone in that rink.

“So, what are we doing, bosses?” Chad asked Tara and Y/N once the introductions were made.

“Well, Y/N had this idea and I think is amazing.” Tara said, tilting her head at Y/N urging her to go on.

“You’re probably going to hate me.” Y/N started, which was followed by some Oh, god’s and groans. “So I thought we should focus on Tik Tok. Not only is the most popular app right now, but hockey players are super trending there.”

“Why?” the captain frowned in confusion.

Tara and her exchanged smirks. “Hockey rom-coms.” they said in unison.

“Of course.” the words left Ethan’s mouth unconsciously and followed by a deep laugh, remembering when he would catch Y/N giggling and swooning over fictional hockey players.

The beautiful sound went straight to Y/N’s chest. Even though part of her still resented the way he had left her, she couldn’t help but smile. At that moment, the feeling of having missed him was stronger than the hurt and sadness of their break-up.

Two minutes within his presence and she was already a mess. She didn’t know how she was going to survive getting used to being so close to him again, only to board a plan in a few days and go back to just daydream about him. She was already dreading to go back to New York, a place that didn’t feel like home anymore.

FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MONTHS, Ethan lived his victory with pure ecstasy and happiness. Winning always felt good, but he never got to enjoy it fully because he had no family to celebrate it with. But now, even though it was not for him, Y/N was there in the stands. She was clapping and cheering with Tara, and when her eyes connected with his, he swore he was levitating.

“Hey…” Y/N said when he and Chad skated towards them. “Congratulations, guys. You were amazing as always.”

“Thanks, Y/N/N.” Chad smiled. “We needed that victory after the last match.”

“Don’t beat yourself up for that. That referee sucked. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if the team bribed him.” Y/N shrugged.

Ethan looked at her in surprise. “You watch our games?”

Y/N blushed and cursed herself internally. “Uh, yeah. Anyways,” she cleared her throat. “Are you going to celebrate?”

“We usually go to a bar after a victory. You’re very invited, of course. Drinks on us, you’ve been doing an amazing job in our social media.” Chad said.

“Told you. Miss Y/N is a marketing genius.” Tara pinched her cheek, making the girl squeal.

“She is.” Ethan said with a proud smile. And fuck if it didn’t make Y/N want to kiss him.

“We’ll drive you. You can go with me and Y/N can go with Eth.” Chad and Tara shared knowing glances.

“Perfect.” Ethan spoke up before Y/N could object. He gave her the keys to his car. “I’m going to take a quick shower, you can wait there.”

After a couple of minutes, Ethan climbed into the driver’s seat “Did you enjoy the game?”

“Yes. It was insane!” she said with an enthusiastic grin. “I’m really happy for you, Eth. You’re living your dream.”

Ethan forced a smile. “Yeah.”

Y/N frowned. “Well, don’t sound so thrilled. What’s wrong? You looked very happy out there.”

“I was. I mean, I am happy. For the first time since I played here, I can truthfully say I’m the happiest.”

“Why? You have won before.”

“Because it’s the first time I get to share my victory with someone I love.” he looked at her with bright eyes. “Every game, I would look at the crowd, hoping to see you there, cheering for me with my number on your back. But you never were, until today. And I have never felt so on top of the world.”

Y/N stared at him dumbfounded. “Eth… fuck. That’s… I- I watched every game. I’m so fucking proud of you. And I would’ve been here, you know that. But you left me.”

“I know.”

“I would’ve stayed forever if you’d said don’t go. I would’ve followed you everywhere. I told you I loved you, and you said nothing back.”

“I loved you, too. And if you hadn’t noticed yet, I still do. My dream had always been playing professional hockey, but ever since you walked into my life, you became part of that dream. I wouldn’t be happy without hockey, but being without you? It feels fucking void. And I’m sorry that I hurt you, I should’ve never let you go.”

“Why did you?”

“You have your family in New York, you have friends, you were about to finish the degree you’d worked so hard for… I couldn’t be selfish to ask you to come with me.”

“It would’ve been selfish to force me to come. But ask? That’s what you should’ve done. We could’ve talked about it. But you didn’t even fight for us, you made your choice and didn’t let me do the same.”

“I was scared you would’ve chosen to come with me, and then regret it and hate me for it.” he confessed, eyes glossing with tears.

“Babe, I could never hate you.” she said softly, brushing his dump hair away from his forehead. “You know what my decision would have been?” Ethan shook his head as he grabbed her hand. “I would’ve told you I could finish online. I would’ve told you that my family isn’t going anywhere, and that I could still visit them. I would’ve told you my friends and I would still be able to text everyday. And above all, that you’re the love of my life. That I want to be cheering for you on the stands with your number on my back. And then, depending on how the match goes, we’d go celebrate together or cuddle as I reassure you that everyone has bad games and you’re one of the best players I’ve ever seen.”

Ethan didn’t know it was possible to fall harder, but there he was. “Do you still want that?” he asked hopeful.

“More than anything in the world.” she pressed her forehead against his and they both smiled. “I missed you horribly. I don’t want to be apart from you ever again.”

“God, me neither. I’m keeping you forever.” he gave her a soft kiss. “You’re moving in with me.” another kiss. “I’m going to marry you.” another kiss. “We’re going to have kids.” another kiss. “And we’re going to grow old together.”

“I love you so much. That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard and I can’t wait to live that life with you.”

[delusion-mostly]

Regina George x Reader

Part 3/32

Warnings: kissing 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩, lotta fluff

Word count: approx. 1,500

"There is nothing to talk about?" You laugh out, hiding your irritation in a chuckle.

"No. There is," she grips your hand, "I judged you way too quickly when I wrote that about you. It was our freshman year right after you had asked Karen to the spring fling!"

"And Karen said no? I respectfully said 'okay, I hope you have a great time with whoever you go with'? I don't see the issue?" Your face grows more confused and curious.

"We were freshman. We didn't think that was okay. We hadn't learned that not all gay people had diseases and stuff." You give her a shocked look.

"Wow, okay, you are not making this any better. It took you until highschool to realize gay people weren't dirty?" You give her a sarcastic laugh.

"No! Not what I meant. Oh my god I'm so embarrassed." She covers her face with her hands and you quickly grab her wrists, moving them.

"No. Communicate, George. What do you mean." You look at her, practically piercing her soul to get her to spill.

"We were always told that gay was bad, we live in Illinois, Y/N. The midwest hates that stuff. To keep up looks, I always just went along with it. It's stupid," she continues her rant by standing up and pacing,

"I mean, why do we even have to label who we kiss! I kiss boys, you kiss girls, Karen kisses her cousin, and I don't even know if I would say I'm straight! Can't a girl kiss a girl every now and then without it being a little gay! Why do we have to label it all! Just fucking be you!" She stomps over to the couch and lays her face in a pillow, panting while trying to catch her breath.

"George..." you pat her back, and she sniffles before looking up at you, "you are okay. You are safe. Its okay not to label yourself. Just be a human who kisses other consenting adult humans. You, just like everyone else, do not owe anyone an explanation on who you choose to be with."

"I was such an asshole to you for no reason Y/N. I owe everyone an explanation for everything, I'm Regina fucking George. I'm a massive deal!" She sobs a little into the pillow, "I don't even know who I am. Am I nice? Am I a mythic bitch? Do I kiss boys? Do I kiss girls? I don't know!"

She still sits knelt on the ground with her face in the pillow on the couch, she quickly switches it to the knee on your uninjured leg. She wraps your leg in a tight hug, and you tug on her to sit on the couch. The mechanical whirring starts again and then stops, and your mom comes up the stairs.

She tosses you the meds, "These do cause drowsiness so Y/N may be out quickly!"

Regina gives you a concerned look, and you speak up, "I'm going to head to my room, Regina will help."

Regina helps you off the couch and offers herself as a crutch, letting you put your weight on her. She is surprisingly strong considering you are being a huge baby and dragging. You make it to your bedroom door and she opens it, setting you on the bed.

She sits in awe at your room. Tan walls covered by DIY record sleeve panels, deep green ivy strung across your ceiling and down the wall, a black tapestry of a mandala hung behind your bed. Bright red LED lights shine brightly and reflect off of your black bedding and fluffy grey blanket. Your bookshelf holds tons of books, some old, some really old, and some new. Your desk has papers upon papers stacked with drawings and ramblings. You grab the remote on your nightstand and turn the lights to a deep green.

"This is the coolest room I have ever been in." Regina smiles.

"Don't you quite literally live in a mansion?"

"Yeah but this room is all vibey and nature-y. This is so cool!" She looks at your record player.

She starts sifting through your record collection, nodding and giving approving hums at several and giving slight 'nuh-uh's at others. She finally comes over to your bed and lays by you.

"Oh my god even your bed is the best." She drops open her jaw and looks at you as you scoff and look at the ceiling.

You grab some sticky fidget toys and spend at least 30 minutes staring above you, catching and throwing them.

"How did you figure it out?"

"What?" You catch the ball that you had just thrown and look at her.

She shifts on to her side to look at you and you do your best to repeat the action.

"How did you figure out you like kissing girls? I won't say gay because, you know?" She smiles and references the conversation from earlier, "I fucking hate labels."

"Can I be so for real?" You say, she nods, "Orange is the New Black." You both laugh.

"I am so serious! One look at Ruby Rose or that chick that plays Alex? You know, the ginger from That 70s Show? One look and boom. Girl kisser." You tell her in a silly matter-of-fact voice.

"You didn't try any hands on? You didn't go out and kiss a girl?"

"Well, no. Like you said, Illinois isn't a big fan of queer people. It wasn't until sophomore year that I actually started dating around like you said in your book. Not a dig, by the way." You smile at her.

You look back up at the ceiling, and Regina places her hand in the spot between your jaw and neck, and forces you to look at her. She puts her forehead against yours as you set your hand on top of hers. You can feel how warm her breath is on your hands, and how warm your cheeks had gotten.

She shoots up, "uhm, I'm gonna choose a record!" You had just gotten Queen Bee all flustered.

She sifts back through the records and lands on one, she picks Folklore. She skips tracks until it starts playing 'this is me trying', and lays back down in the same way you were before.

She puts her hand back in its spot between your meck and jaw and shoots you an awkward smile. You lay your hand on top of hers, rubbing your thumb against her knuckles.

"Can I kiss you?"

You sit there shocked, mouth open, eyes closed, unable to respond.

"Nevermind I shouldn't have asked, that was so stupid, I'm so sorry Y/N that was really fucked up of me." She moves to get up.

You pull her back down and roll onto your back, pulling her with you.

"Wow you are strong," she reaches for your muscle as she speaks.

"Hockey, honey. Not the point," you lift her chin to look at you, "it wasn't fucked up of you. I was thinking it too, but only if you are sure."

She lays her head on your chest, you tangle your hand in her soft blonde locks.

"I just want to know... this is all so hard. I don't get it. My therapist said I need to explore myself outside of school and the plastics. I just don't want to fuck things up. I can't lose the one thing I have control over..." she starts to cry into your chest, the second time shes cried on you today.

"Sh, you're okay Regina. It's okay Regina. You're gonna be okay G." You keep repeating her name and it feels so good on your lips.

You quickly realize she was meaning the one thing she has control over is the school. You guess after last year everything really did fall apart for her.

"No matter what. If you kiss girls or not. It will be okay. You will still have control over aspects of your life. If you do like girls? Nobody will force you out. You have control over that."

She sits up and looks at you, pulling herself to sit straddling your hips. She runs her fingers through your hair and sets her hand under your jaw when she's done.

Regina slowly leans in, intertwining your fingers and pining your hand above your head. Your other hand trails down her side and makes its way to her hip. She finally, after what feels like a painful eternity, closes the gap. Every moment moves so slow, but she deepens the kiss. You can feel how warm her cheeks are.

Well that was an unexpected turn of events

[heartthrobin]

round and round the garden (1)

sam winchester x fairy!reader

wc: 4.7k

warnings: soulmate!au (partners share scars), fem!reader, limited use of y/n, timeline is foggy but we’re working with s8 sam lookwise, reader is a creature, implied age gap (reader is early 20's), reader is uber tooth-rottingly sweet, highkey dumbification of sam winchester, references to thick reader (everyone cheered) but can be ignored, dean being dean, destiel is canon, animals, canon warnings (child kidnapping, violence ect.)

an: literally just wanted to write something fantastical and cutesy so here it is !!! this is part 1 of (probably) 4 :))) let me know if you want to be added to taglist <33 love y’all

summary: the case was bizarre, but no aspect more so than the “witch” at the end of town with the prettiest goddamn face Sam had ever seen and the long pink scar up her arm that matched his own.

part two part three part four

The house wasn't big.

If Sam could really call it a house.

It was more like a cottage, reminding him of children's illustrated stories he never had the childhood to read. Of picnics and fireplaces.

The cottage dazzled like a water colour painting: green shrubbery seeping into every corner of the canvas, with lush pink and orange and yellow fruit speckled across the page.

Creeping around it, wrapping it's branches over the house like an arboreal hug: was the largest tree Sam had ever laid eyes on. The trunk was almost as wide as the street they were parked on and it's leaves draped low over the windows peeking from inside. It stood like a monolith against the backdrop of the forest leering behind it.

The line of trees were inched back just enough to almost convince Sam that this tree, the one engulfing your cottage, made them nervous.

A stone footpath lead to the door.

"I-- looked away for just one minute ..." the woman was inconsolable.

Jenny Perez sobbed into the arm of her couch. Her sister leered in the doorway.

Sam and Dean watched her from the couch over.

"Ma'am," Sam stepped carefully. "We know this isn't easy, but are you sure you didn't see anything in the moments leading up to Manny's disappearance? Even anything ... strange?"

Washington State. Five kids. Two months. Missing.

Each snatched out their gardens where they played.

Sam and Dean had been in Illinois on the tail end of a wendigo hunt when the news of a sixth missing kid blew far enough across the country to land a tiny column on the front page of the Chicago Tribune.

Manny Perez (7) was taken from the backyard of his home this past Sunday night in Fernglade, Washington.

His mother, Jenny Perez (38), said she heard rustling in the bushes behind their house and her son laughing before going to take some food out of the oven. When she returned, her son had disappeared.

Sure it was a terrible story, but regardless, it didn’t arouse enough suspicion out of either Winchester to make it their problem. To convince them it was anything more than a 53-year old psychopath holding children in his basement.

Not until Dean found the entry. The one in John’s journal.

He’d been looking for a passage he swore was in there on wendigo hunting seasons when the ruggedly clipped article fell from between it’s pages.

“Sammy …” he’d flashed him the clip, “look familiar?”

Several articles actually: eight kids missing from the little town of Fernglade. Every Autumn, every twenty years out of some poor mother’s backyard. John had only scribbled one lonely note amongst all the newspaper staining: THE TREES

“No! It’s like I told the police … I just heard him laughing.” Her voice came out as broken shards between the heaving and the hands clutched close against her chest. “I thought I heard another child’s voice, but that was—”

“Jenny, enough.” Sandra Perez piped up from the doorway, clearly enflamed. She turned from her sister to face the brothers on the couch. “What my sister is refusing to consider, and what the rest of us know to be true, is that Manny was taken by that witch.”

“Hermana … she isn’t a witch—”

“A witch?” Dean’s calibre had twisted to intrigued.

“She lives on the edge of town. By the forestline.” Sandra’s arms were crossed tightly. “Jenny always used to let Manny go afternoons out there, God knows why—”

“A lot of the neighbourhood kids did too.” Jenny interrupted, desperate in her approach: hands outdrawn. “She’s not a … a witch. She’s a bit strange but the kids loved her and she was kind to them—”

“And now look. All those children are gone, Jenny.”

The woman deflated back into the couch again, her tear-soaked sleeves came up to find purchase against her cheeks again. They muffled a sob.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. Dean shrugged with a look that said “maybe?”

Dean turned to the sister, “What has you convinced that this woman is a witch?”

Sanda Perez looked affronted by the question. Like Dean had slapped her clean across the face.

“Oh! Well she’s … there’s always things burning at that house and people have said they’ve heard … like, chanting at night over there.” She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, grasping at the straws of gossip that had dripped down to her willing ears. “And her house is strange and she’s always in the forest at night when it’s unsafe. Who knows what … what rituals she’s doing out there!”

The brothers nodded. “Sure. Would you mind giving us that address?”

Now that Sam was faced with the house, getting his first view through the grimy passenger side window, he’d stray from the description of “strange”. He might have agreed that “enchanted” or “mystical” fit the description of the cottage better if he didn’t resent the magic clichés.

Dean’s finger pressed into the open journal page, tapping along the stained ink of John’s nearly illegible handwriting. THE TREES.

“Now that’s a tree if I’ve ever laid eyes on one.” He leaned over so his eyes could find the top of the tree from under the cover of the car.

Sam nodded. Something felt off when he watched the house, his stomach was twisting up past his other organs in his throat.

“I don’t know man …” his finger reached up to tug at the collar choking him at the neck. Maybe the fed suit wasn’t helping. “Something feels weird about this place.”

Dean scoffed loudly. He picked up the takeaway cup from the centre console, coffee long cold, and slugged the last of it down in one long sip. He surfaced again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Every place we go to is weird.” It was clear he didn’t share the sentiment. “I’m sure we’ve faced worse.”

He unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Well, come on. Let’s go meet this witch.”

Despite Sandra Perez’ less than convincing account of the “witch” at the end of town, it was still worth a visit to know who the townsfolk had decided was guilty in the matter of several counts of child kidnapping. How evil and vile of a person they must be.  

The air was crisp outside the car and the further they ventured up the path, the more delightful the aroma became. There was a thin string of smoke curling from behind the house, it carried a warm woody scent and the tussles of flowers lining the bannister of the porch was making Sam’s head spin happily. He managed a small smile.

“Nice garden.” He whispered offhand.

Dean seemed unconvinced, eyes flashing over the shrubbery with skepticism. “Yeah, well don’t get too close to anything. And don’t touch anything either.”

The door was tall, intimidating and clearly made of some fancy wood. It was slot between the white brick on the face of the house. The feeling from the car had only tripled on the walk up and Sam had his hand against his stomach. He could feel his blood rushing past his ears.

“Dean, I’m really not sure about—”

Dean’s fist connected with the door three times. Curt and professional, like a fed’s would be.  

There was an obvious shuffle behind the door, by then each beat of Sam’s heart was like a foghorn against his vibrating ribs and for a moment he was sure he was going to be sick.

Suddenly, there was sniffle by the foot of the door. A dog? And a voice, caressed gently by a giggle, ushering the animal away.

Sam’s brain was swelling too large for his head, the doorknob creaked from inside – his fists grew ice cold – with a soft grunt, the door was pulled ajar …

It stopped.

With a smile that knocked the wind clean out of Sam’s lungs, you greeted. “Good morning, gentlemen.”

Warmth flooded back in to his palms and the thumping of his head cooled to a dizzy buzz. The nausea subsided to a hot bubbling.

Your frame took up the doorway. It seemed to fizzle around the edges, glimmering like light off a rippling pond.

Sam’s eyes slipped down your body like warm coffee down his throat. Your face was gentle, eyes round and wet beneath a set of suffocatingly black eyelashes. Wide-set thighs rippled all the way down to soft calves and pink painted toenails.

A cream crochet top reached over the expanse of your shoulders, sloping down where the rugged sleeve edges hung off your palms, a sparkling green skirt flirted at the top of your thighs. It’s silk ruffles shivered with your every breath.

If he was momentarily able to lift his eyes from you, which he most definitely was not, maybe he'd notice how Dean didn't seem even moderately as amazed as he was. That might have been the first sign if he did.

"Good afternoon ma'am, I'm agent Alice. This is my partner agent Cooper." Dean dug out the FBI identification from his jacket pocket, flashing it casually. "We just have a few questions regarding some recent--"

"Oh please," you waved your hand airily, "No need for the semantics. I've been expecting you, lunch is out in the garden."

The sound of your voice was sending waves of warmth through his stomach. Like he was sipping hot cocoa at your every syllable.

The ID in Dean's hand wobbled, his face clenched in confusion. "I-- sorry, what?"

In the shift of Sam’s gaze back up your form, he came to find your eyes set on his.

You smiled again. His tongue felt heavy and half-formed words gurgled at the back of his throat: begging to be spat out.

“I-I’m–“

“I know who you are.”

Your eyes flickered back to Dean and Sam felt hollow at the loss of their warmth.

“Not every day you have the Winchesters at your door, now is it.” You finished, stepping aside to allow them in.

“You know who we are?” Dean’s cadence dropped warily, clearly spearheading the conversation where Sam was finding difficulty. But your figure was already disappearing into the darkness of the house.

Despite his sceptic tone, Dean stepped in quickly after you. Sam trailed behind.

The cottage was warm. At least that was Sam’s first thought.

It was quickly ribbed out the way by the sheer visual of the interior.

There wasn’t a single blank wall or spot on the floor uncovered by carpetry.

Rows of paintings and stacks of photographs lined the space between wooden countertops and cherry red couches. Persian rugs and indoor plants spilled from a technicolour mirage of pots.

Desks were cluttered with books, paint supplies abandoned still wet. A dusty chandelier.

But more striking than the portraits and the vinyls and the rugs and the botany textbooks, were the creatures.

“Just watch for Goose,” she waved vaguely at a moving creature that was quickly nearing Sam’s feet, avoiding Dean’s question. “He won’t bite but he will try lick you—”

For a moment, Sam connected that this had to be the dog at the door. But the dog, Goose, was hardly a dog at all. Only once he was licking a stripe up the strip of bare skin at Sam’s ankle did he realize that … it can’t … that’s a fox.

And that wasn’t the start nor the end of it.

Draped over the couch was the largest snake Sam had ever seen. It was curled into the red frilled cushion, fast asleep. On the countertop, two ferrets were dipping in and out of sight behind the fruit basket. A gecko bathing in a sunspot on top of a stack of books. A flock of white budgies perched between the crystals on the chandelier. Three pairs of brown twitching rabbit ears peeking out from a basket of laundry.

It seemed Dean had also taken stark notice of the menagerie that was the cottage, so distracted that he’d forgone mentioning that his question had gone unanswered.

His finger pointed weakly at down at the white boa on the couch. “That’s … that’s a snake.”

You laughed again and Sam was sure he could get drunk off the sound.

“Nothing gets past you boys, hey?”

You kept walking, motioning for them to follow through another arched door out into the garden behind the house.

“Her name is Lydia. She’ll come join us when she’s awake.”

“I sure as hell hope not …” But it was muttered and Sam gave Dean a stern look for his comment. You didn’t turn back.

The garden behind the house was impossibly even more beautiful than infront. Vines creeped up the outer walls, a lemon tree grew along the underside the of the bigger tree engulfing the house. Shrubs and bushes and stark purple flowers. Your whole patch of land seemed untouched by the fingertips of Autumn that was reaching over the rest of town.

In the middle of it all: sat a small white painted table. You’d lined it with sheer cloth and platters of pastries, sandwiches and cakes.

There were three chairs around it.

“Sit, sit, sit.” You were wringing your hands, a light waft of nervousness fluttering off you. “I didn’t know what exactly you hunters eat or don’t eat … so there’s a little bit of everything–“

“Oh, hell yes.” Dean’s initial skepticism seemed to dissolve at the prospect of food and his ass was in the chair before you had chance to say anything else.

You seemed pleased. 

Sam’s face flushed red. He remembered that he still has yet to say a full sentence in your presence.

“Uh,” you turned to the sound of his voice. “T-Thank you.”

The speckles of light through the canopy of the trees drifted over your face. Sam had never noticed that on a person before.

He’d also never paid much mind to people’s hair. Not before yours. It looked like something ripped off the cover of a fashion magazine from the 70’s.

“You’re so very welcome.” Your voice was kind. “It’s more of an indulgence. I haven’t had guests in a while, not since …”

It faded off. “Well, not for a while.”

Jewels jingled around your neck, crystals wrapped in black string: dipping low down between the swell of your breasts that was just visible above the hemline—

Sam quickly swung his gaze back to the table where Dean was scarfing down an icing covered puff pastry.  

His brother was making wildly animalistic groans over the taste. For a moment, it was the only noise filling the space against the shiver of the trees in the midday gust.

Sam didn’t know where to find his tongue. He couldn’t get himself to step away from you.

“Coffee or tea, boys? I have it inside warming on the stove.”

“Coffee.” Dean responded blurrily around a mouthful. You turned to Sam again.

“I—just, I’m—coffee is good.”

You nodded. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

He watched your figure retreat towards the house. The nausea was bubbling back into view.

“This is some fucking good cake.”

When your frame had disappeared back into the house, Sam turned back to his brother who was cleaning remnants of a second pastry off his plate with a tiny fork.

He quickly neared him, pulling out the chair across from him hastily.

“Dean, have you even considered the possibility that this food is poisened?”

Dean’s face twisted to a grimace, but only for a fraction of a moment before shrugging. “Hey. Worse ways to go.”

But Sam was shaking his head. The dizziness had returned.

“Do you feel sick? I’ve been feeling like … like off since we first step foot on this property.”

Dean watched him with hooded eyes, gaze flickering between his brother and the sliced ham and cucumber sandwich resting at the top of a nearby plate.

“Is that your explanation for the fool you’ve been acting since we walked in the door?”

Looking up from wiping sweaty palms down his trousers, Sam stalled. “W-What?”

“Exactly.” Dean gave in, reaching for the sandwich. “You haven’t been able to string three fucking words together since we got here.”

“I—she’s a witch, Dean.” Sam pressed. “I think she put like a … a spell o-or a hex on me!”

“She couldn’t have done that in the five minutes we’ve been here.”

“She knows who we are, she could’ve hexed our motel room.”

“Looks to me like someone has a crush—"

But Sam’s face was earnest. And maybe turning a little cherry red at the accusation. “Dean.”

Dean huffed. “Fine, fine, we’ll interrogate her and see what she says. If she’s a witch, we just gank her. Problem solved.”

“But—”

The sound of footsteps were reapproaching. The brothers fell quiet.

“Here we go.” Ringed fingers clinked against the side of an ornate red pot where you leaned over Sam’s shoulder. Steaming black liquid slipped into the teacup resting against it’s matching saucer in front of him.

His breath caught in his throat.

“You like the sandwiches?” You aimed at Dean.

He nodded, “Yeah, great stuff.”

You rounded the table and Sam worked hard not to make eye contact with the expanse of thigh peeking up at him as you moved.

“I have to admit, I really wish you’d brought along your angel.” You poured into Dean’s cup.

His head flickered up at the comment. “Cas?”

“I’m a big fan of his.” Your voice buzzed with eagerness, “The whole rebellion against heaven thing. I thought it was really cool.”

To label Cas "his angel" was a fair assessment. The matching fleshy red handprint on each of their chests had confirmed it a long time ago.

Dean nodded slowly. “I’ll be sure to pass on the message.”

You smiled and it made Sam’s stomach contents bubble again. He was starting to worry that maybe you really had cursed him.

The chair grumbled against the grass where you pulled it out. “Right, so I’m assuming you guys are here to question me? Kill me maybe?”

Awkward silence fell. Dean and Sam exchanged glances.

“Uh—”

“Well—”

Between another bout of laughter, you poured your own cup. “Don’t worry. You’re not the first, probably not the last.”

Dean took a long enough break from scarfing food down his gullet to look up at you. “Yes. To question you, for now.”

You nodded. Eyes finding Sam.

“What about you, Bigfoot? Here to kill me?”

Sam reached deep to find his voice again. “Uhm, just a few questions.”

Smiling, you sat further back in your chair. “Great. Go right ahead then.”

“How do you know who we are?” Dean leapt right in, repeating what had been previously left unanswered.

“Someone like me’s gotta know when hunters are moving in and out of town, don’t you think?”

“Someone like you?”

“Yep.” You nodded, seemingly unwilling to offer more than what was being asked.

Sam leaned forward. “So you are a witch then.”

You chuckled under your breath, leaning forward to stir your coffee as if he hadn’t tossed an accusation in your lap. “I see you’ve been speaking to people around town.”

Nobody answered.

So you filled the space again.

“No, I’m not a witch. Slimy bunch them, but then again, I guess you’re not too far off.”

“So what then?” Dean’s voice held that rough edge that dripped through when he was growing annoyed.

Grinning, you shrugged.

A chime, like a ringing sleigh bell, filled the space. Sam’s eyes were drawn just past your shoulders where a tall pair of opal pearlescent wings had appeared behind your head.

“No fucking way.”

Sam choked around nothing. There was a long pause, interjected with a long stare between the brothers across your table.

“Fairies don’t … they don’t exist.”

You reached for a sip of your coffee, looking unperterbed. “Dryad, actually. Give it a google.”

The wings shivered against the movement.

"So what," Dean's glare was heated over the set table, "Evil fairy godmother is that it? What did you do with the kids, eat them?"

For the first time since he'd lain eyes on you, Sam could make out a shine of something unkind crossed your features.

You set the teacup down slowly and your eyes met Dean's with the same heat of the sun glaring down into the garden: "I had nothing to do with those children going missing. I loved them."

Sam wanted to interject, but his chest was tight ... a straining grip of guilt was tightening his throat. She's cursed me, she's cursed me, she's cursed me--

"A couple of the parents said their kids used to come visit around here. Visit the witch at the end of town. That true?"

Gathering a breath and another sip from your cup, your face distorted from indignant to disconsolate. Sam could feel the tightness in his chest ebbing.

You nodded.

"Yes. That's true." From behind your seat, accurate to your predictions, the wide white outline of a snake-- of Lydia-- was creeping through the grass.

Dean's eyes fixated on her approach, all way up until she bound the foot of your chair up into your chest. She rested her head there like a lap dog. You stroked a hand over her head like one too.

"They used to come visit," you continued, "after school some days. I'd make them tea and cupcakes, and they'd come to visit my animals. I taught them about the trees."

A fond look had crawled onto your features. There was another tinkle of bells and the wings behind you disappeared.

"Now nobody comes. Parents are scared. They think I'm ... hiding their children in my basement or something."

Dean surveyed you for a few moments, seemingly deciding you were of little enough danger to dare another piece of white chocolate cake.

"Yeah, you can spare us the pity party sister." He muttered around his fork.

Sam sent him a short lived look. "Well, then if it's not you--"

"We haven't yet decided that it's not you, just by the way."

"--then what is it? Surely you have some idea?"

Lydia was curling up around the back of your neck now. Your eyes found Sam's - he momentarily felt like he was melting - and you sighed softly.

"I've heard some things, nothing definitive." Your hand stroked over the section of the snake still draped in your lap. "It's coming from the forest."

"And you heard this where?" Dean's tone dripped with skepticism.

"The trees told me."

Where Sam was sure would normally be laughter echoing from his older brother, instead, his hand stilled over his plate.

THE TREES.

His eyes flickered to Sam. It was quiet. Dad's journal.

"You can speak to trees?" Sam question was clement.

You seemed refreshed by it, watching him for a moment before nodding. "Part of the gig."

Another silence fell. You sighed. Sam could smell Dean's thoughts from across the table.

"Let me get this straight." Dean cleared his throat, leaning forward in his chair. "You're the garden fairy and you're telling us that the trees have something to do with this? Not really working your best angle here, if you ask me."

The garden rustled again. A white duck emerged from one of the bushes followed by a string of ducklings. You shrugged tiredly.

"I'm trying to help." Your voice was soft. Melancholic.

Your hand reached for a strawberry sitting on a tower of others just past Sam's cup, crocheted sleeve slipping back to your elbow to reveal the scores of golden, beaded jangling bracelets and--

Sam's blood ran all the way icy, turning to a slurry in his veins.

"Care to explain that?" Dean's voice came passing over him as if said from the end of a very long corridor.

Twisting your wrist to look, you shook your head. You grabbed the strawberry and brought it to your lips with the other hand.

"Oh, this?" A jagged scar peaked from the edge of your elbow up into the palm of your hand. It shone pink with marred tissue. "You think I got this from kidnapping children?"

Sam's heartbeat was ringing in his ears, he gripped the edge of his seat with whitened knuckles. His eyes chased up to the side of your face, finding the little spot by your eyebrow where ... the end was split with the mark of the edge of a blade in a fight gone wrong.

"Not mine unfortunately." You continued, dissolving the strawberry to pieces between your lips. "My other half's. I swear they're a bull-fighter or a boxer the way they bang me up."

Somewhere a bird chirped. There was a turbo washing machine in Sam's stomach on full blast and he thought he was about to be sick. At the same time, he was washed over by a feeling of inexplicable warmth. Like a cooled stream of bubbling champagne down his gullet. Like how they always said it might feel. Only now he could put a feeling to the talk.

"Listen, if we find out you've got something to do--"

"D-Dean," Sam's voice tripped over pebbles, "We should go."

The hands now released from the edges of his seat were shaking and his palms were scorching.

Dean looked at him, confusion tugging on his hardened face. Sam thought he might argue, but he nodded slowly. Maybe he noticed his brother's red, sweating face. Again, maybe he was just bored.

"Uh, yeah." He started to push the chair out, but his eyes drifted on a ham and cheese sandwich lingering on his plate. He hesitated.

You jumped up quickly, wrapping Lydia like a scarf, all in the same motion. "I've got a box you can take some food, if you'd like? I could just run inside--?"

"That would be great--"

"No, that's really not necessary--"

Your eyes drifted to Sam, waving him off with a smile that buckled his knees now that he was standing. "Don't be ridiculous. Let me go grab them."

Figure disappearing into the house again, Dean surveyed his brother. "What's up with you?"

Sam didn't answer. In fact he didn't say anything at all until you'd returned, Dean had stuffed as many sandwiches and pieces of cake he could fit into the tupperware and you packed Sam a box against his will.

Not as soon as he would have liked, they were standing at the door again out on the porch front.

"We'll be back, probably." Dean quipped officially, but he lifted the box of food all the same. "Oh, and uh ... thanks."

You were smiling again. "Sure. You know where to find me."

Not for the first time that morning, Sam was struggling to peel his gaze off your face. Your eyes were a swirling mess of colour and the light was flickering off of them at him.

"I'll see you around, Bigfoot."

Your shoulder peeked at him from under your top, a deep red welt matching his own left collarbone.

He nodded curtly, turning back down the path even before his brother. His collar was sticky against his neck and his brain was firing off signals the whole walk down, it begged him to turn back.

Dean jogged to catch up.

"What the hell is going--"

Sam slammed the door on him, crashing into the passenger's seat. He began ripping off his suit, the black jacket flung mindlessly into the back of the Impala.

By the time Dean fell into the driver's seat he was already fighting against the button securing the shirt to his right wrist.

"You have been acting all sorts of crazy since we got here, Sammy. What the hell is--"

Sam pried back the sleeve: bunching it at his elbow. He stuck his arm out to his brother.

Dean glanced between his face and his arm only once before pausing. The long jagged scar from his palm up his arm was impossible to miss. The one that sat identical on your arm.

"Oh."

Sam was sucking in deep breaths through his nose.

Dean's eyebrows rose into his hairline. He let off a disbelieving laugh.

"Well, I'll be damned."

-

taglist:

@firstsnowdrop @writerofthewinds @aria1245 @nyx22-blogs @lucysaloser @britishscum @pookiesnatcher @music-keep-me-sane @cryptid-with-a-cane @sammys-concubine @i-live-for-fantasy @grimbunnie @crystalreedwifey

[cherrycrushes]

a little help - chapter 1

a vox x actress!reader story.

a/n: okay so i caved and decided to make this an actual story wml

it was the 50’s. the golden age of hollywood. here you were, sister to a famous actor and daughter of a famous actress. always looking up to them in your childhood, you also wished to have fame.

your family traveled often. you and your brother were born in nebraska, grew up in california, and moved to manhattan by the time you graduated from college. you and your mom were the only ones who stayed in manhattan, with your brother and father leaving to illinois. the state where you are expected to go now.

“y/n, honey, i’m just scared for you to travel alone! you know in this day and age it is very dangerous to do for a pretty young woman such as yourself!” your mother pestered you as you packed your luggage.

you planned to go on a train to illinois. just to get more job opportunities as an actress. sure, new york had a handful of stars but you were always hired just to be in commercials! it was time for a change and fast. you were in your 20’s afterall! stardom could not come quicker if you stayed in manhattan.

“i get it, ma, but I need to leave! you know it’s just 20 short hours on a train and i will be reunited with marlon and daddy,” you responded with a slight sigh.

your mom picked up one of the discarded dresses on your bed and folded it. she neatly put it in the messy pile you made in your luggage. it was the last one. you and your mother closed the briefcase, with one hand on either side. you locked it.

“i guess so, huh? but you better take care of this gordy luggage of yours! gosh you’ve had this since we first moved to cali,” ma rolled her eyes as you walked out of your room and down the stairs.

“i get it, ma,” you hissed. you put the briefcase down as you put on a coat over your travel dress. ma pointed and shook her finger at you. you opened the door and was about halfway out when she shouted.

“and i better not see any ankle-biters running around when you get back! i love you baby!”

“i love ya too, ma.”

and you were on your way to 42nd street. ecstatic as ever, you reread the brochure you got when you first bought your ticket. a discount given graciously after the vendor recognized you from a couple commercials you’ve filmed. the train was a diesel one- only just have made the switch about five years ago. people even called it the world’s greatest train, with the amount of luxuries it provided.

you walked up the carpeted stairs. being on the poorer side of passengers, your seat was all the way back. finding it, you went face to face with your seat. it looked a bit small and uncomfortable but you could make it work. you stepped backwards, your head colliding into someone’s shoulder. the briefcase in your hands springing open.

“im so sorry oh my christ im so sorry…” you rambled to the stranger.

“no no, don’t worry about it dear,” he chuckled in response. “mistakes happen here and there.”

“please accept my apologies. my name is y/n brando,” you stretched you hand in front of him for a handshake. he took it and pressed your skin to his lips.

“call me vox.”

[idontplaytrack]

✧ ‘…a lot of things happen in parked cars.’

Janis ‘Imi’ike x tall dancer! reader

Warnings: MDNI, smut. dom!reader/bratty sub! Janis + switch dynamics. Mentions of masturbation and phone sex, clothing gag(Janis receiving), squirting(reader receiving)

Requested? [Yes]/No ps. I'm not a dancer so pls forgive any errors in terminologies :') here you go, anon! hope you like it.

Janis hasn’t seen you in two weeks. Because you’d been training for a dance competition and then out of town for it. So…that meant that you haven’t been able to see her as well. Your third and final competition was in Illinois, so you were at least closer to Janis. You'd been planning on surprising Janis the minute you were done with your competition once you found out that your last stop was back home.

Taking a final bow onstage with your teammates, you rushed offstage to change and get rid of your makeup. Weaving through the crowd of fellow dancers, and some parents, you've failed to spot a certain someone. You stood in front of a mirror backstage to remove your makeup, all the while thinking about being able to see Janis soon. In the reflection, a familiar silhouette catches your eye- you blink furiously and squinted, but it was long gone. Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped around you from behind, causing you to gasp. "Oh, my God."

"Hi, y/n."

Janis...Janis?!

You quickly spun around and you saw her looking up at you. "What are you doing here?!" You asked excitedly, leaning down to capture her lips. Finally.

"To surprise you." She shrugs, "I just couldn't wait any longer to see you."

“Your hair…” You notice the colour change in the ends of her hair. It was now a dark pink.

“Decided it was time for a change.” She shrugs.

“Well, I think you look amazing as usual.” You smiled and she mirrors yours. “Let me just finish removing my makeup then we can go, alright?”

“Sure.” Her eyes fell onto your team’s trophy that was on a teammate’s dressing table behind you, “Second place? That’s amazing.”

“Eh.” You shrug. “Okay, I’m ready- let’s go.”

“Where to?” Asked Janis.

“How’d you get here? On Damian’s grandma’s jazzy?” You teased.

“No, he’s on a date.” She guffawed, “I got my license and a car.”

“Your what? And- a what?” You stopped in your tracks. “When was this?”

“A week ago.” She flashes you a playful grin, “How were you planning on getting outta here?”

“I didn’t think you’d come here, and my parents are both way too busy with their work to care, so probably the bus?” You shrugged.

“Okay…is your sister home?”

“Yes, she has her friends over. Why?”

“Then we’re not going to yours…” She pulls you in for a kiss. Not just any kiss, but a deep, longing one. You broke away, “And where do you suggest we go then?” You interlaced your fingers together.

“My house, but we’re gonna be spending some time in my car first.” Janis shrugs.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” You ask, opening the door to the front passenger’s seat. You got in, and she does the same on the driver’s side.

“What do you think I’m saying, exactly?”

“That you’re horny.” You stated. Janis’ eyes widen, pursing her lips together as she started the car and drove off.

“Say it, tell me you want me to fuck you.” You demanded.

“In my car? Wow.” She quickly regained her composure. But that didn’t last for long, because once your hand found its way onto her thigh, she got flustered and you saw her cheeks flush a bright pink. “Two weeks is a long time, isn’t it, sweetheart?” You tickled her thigh lazily as she drove, “Besides…a lot of things happen in a parked car.” She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, telling you to wait. Then, she tells you to stop so you did, letting her drive in peace.

Eventually, you end up in a secluded park with her. No one was around, and with (barely) tinted windows, you had privacy to an extend. But, it was still a public place after all. “Get in the back?” You suggested, gathering that there was going to be barely enough room for both you and her up front. She obliged, quietly crawling into the backseat through the gap. While you on the other hand got out from the front seat and walked to the back, opening the door to get in. “Phone sex and touching yourself didn’t cut it?” You teased, twirling a lock of her hair with your finger as you cupped her cheek and kissed her.

————

“You have curtains. Nice.” You realised, drawing them shut. She licked her lips, looking at you eagerly. “You wanna take your clothes off for me, baby?” You requested, fingers tracing her side. “Mhm.” She nodded, beginning to strip off her clothes, giving you a little show in the meantime. You watched her in anticipation and when she was fully naked, you pushed her onto the seat firmly but also making sure she didn’t hit her head on the door. Janis laid down across two seats, her legs spread wide open for you. She was absolutely ready for you- she’d been waiting for this moment for two weeks and it was finally within reach.

Beneath your touch, Janis was like putty- you could make her do whatever you please. “Palms up against the door.” You ordered, “I don’t want you to touch yourself.”

You’d gotten ahold of her underwear, holding on to it with your finger looped through the hems. You decided to stuff it in her mouth so she couldn’t make any noise for most of it. “Is that okay with you?” You asked her first, though. She agrees, so you went ahead with your decision. Next, your fingers started to tease her folds, ghosting her swelling clit in the process a few times. You saw her bit down onto the fabric in her mouth whenever you did, so that’s how you figured out where she wanted you to pay attention to first. Seeing that she was looking up at the ceiling of the car, you grabbed her face by the bottom of her chin so you could tilt it and have eye contact. “I want you to look at me, Janis. Look at me while I do this.” You smiled, leaning closer and closer to her cunt. Then, your tongue dove right in licking a stripe up from her entrance up to her clit. A muffled scream resounded through the small space.

“Naughty girl.” You chuckled against her folds, making her squirm, “So needy, so fast.” You spread her lips with your fingers to allow yourself easier access to her cunt, right as your middle and ring finger mercilessly rubbed her clit in circles. Loud whines and whimpers fell from her lips, you could hear them as though a layer of fabric wasn’t obstructing the sound.

“Look at me, baby girl. Don’t look away.” You reminded her, your voice low as you continued lapping up her juices that only seemed to keep flowing out of her. She was still looking at everywhere but where you wanted her to. “Look. At. Me.” You emphasised on each more. Your tongue alternated between pressing against her clit and circling it, forcing higher pitched sounds of pleasure from her throat. When you teeth were felt just grazing her sensitive bundle of nerves ever so slightly, her head snapped towards you in an instant, her eyes fixated on yours. Satisfied, you continued your mission to bring her to her climax. “Good girl.”

“y/n.” She calls your name, causing you to break away from her.

“Yeah?” You ask.

One of her hands leave its position on the door and she pointed to the piece of lingerie in her mouth. She wanted it out, so you removed it. “I’m sorry, it was getting a little- uh, a little suffocating.”

“That’s okay.” Your eyes softened as you observed her face, little beads of sweat were forming along her hairline, flyaways clung to her skin and her chest, heaving due to the slight breathlessness your advances. You placed the underwear on her stomach, soon paying no mind to it as you continued to pump your fingers in and out of her. As you continued to work her clit with your tongue, you feel Janis tighten around your fingers a couple times. “Oh, fuck,” She cursed. “Yeah, nothing beats you actually inside of me, y/n.”

“Good.” You smirked, curling up your two fingers inside her to attack her g-spot, at the same time having your thumb pressing down on her clit. A sure-fire move to push her over the edge. And goddamn, she was practically creaming on your fingers as her walls continued to clench around you in an erratic manner. Hearing her repeatedly moaning your name brought you close enough to your own orgasm without even needing any other form of stimulation from her- that’s how much you’d missed her in the two weeks. You were desperate for release, just like she was. Janis’ petite frame shook uncontrollably as she came down from her high, you found yourself whining hearing her voice, her noises…every little one sent electric shocks down your spine as you worked yourself to your peak. “Hey!” She exclaimed, “That’s not fair, babe. You said i couldn’t touch myself and here you are, touching yourself.”

“You wanna help me, then? Baby?” You pulled her up by the hand as she pushes your back against the door on your side.

“Of course, I do, y/n.” She grins happily, watching your dripping cunt. Janis grabs your ankles and held your legs above the height of her shoulders as she immediately plunged three fingers into your tightness to drive you nuts, moaning and crying for her.

“You’ve been such a good girl, Janis.” You smiled contentedly.

“Always have, always will.” She winks, her shyness was soon taken over by eagerness the more vocal you were. She enjoyed watching you fold under her actions, but not as much as she enjoyed being overpowered by you, having you boss her around. Still, you being the bottom was a treat for her all around. Her little trick to provide you with more friction as good as sends you flying over the edge as you watched yourself unravel, squirting all over her face. “Holy fuck!” You gasped, “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not.” She wipes her face off swiftly, “You’re so hot when you’re whining for me, y/n. Such a treat for me when you’re not the one fucking me into oblivion.”

You licked your lips, pursing them together in order to not give her what she wants- another whine from you. Your breath was ragged, your cheeks warm and red as she continued to stare into your soul, “Nuh-uh, we gotta play fair. You gotta keep your eyes on me too.” Janis caresses your cheek, crashing her lips onto your own. Her teeth tugs onto your lower lip just enough to give her a moan. “Can you give me one more, y/n?”

You knew she could make you come again. And she did, minutes after the first. Proudly having you shaking from the intense climaxes, she finally stops, allowing you catch your breath.

“Where the fuck did that come from?” You panted, referring to her topping you for a round two.

“Like you said…two weeks is a long time. I’ve learnt a thing or two from having to fuck myself every time I was yearning your touch.”